|
Recently I decided to start running the Serpent's Skull for some friends on a biweekly basis. I already had Council of Thieves going every Saturday, so another weekly game wasn't happening. Anyhow, there isn't much more introduction to it, so I'll cut right to the characters!
Joshua Frost / Arceso (LN Elf Conjurer 1): Josh decided to make a wizard for this campaign, and went with a conjuration specialist. Knowing he would be summoning a lot of monsters, he opted to go a rare route and have his elf worship Lamashtu. As some may know from my posts on other threads, I am open to the idea of worshiping gods of vastly different alignments. His choice of deity hasn't really come up much yet, he just highly respects her mastery over monsters. Also, he has a Scottish accent.
Mark Moreland / Aman Tor (LG Human Paladin (Irori) 1): Mark knew he wanted to do a Lawful character, but wasn't sure if he wanted to go Monk or Paladin. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that he would try to do both. Though the character was hard to make (relying on a larger then usual number of ability scores), he came through and made his paladin of Irori (who would later multiclass into Monk). He sounds like Batman when he talks.
Jourdan H. / Whistlin' Jak (CN Halfling Rogue 1): Jourdan is a player of mine from a few years ago in my first big campaign, the Age of Worms. He wasn't able to do a weekly game, but the idea of a biweekly one was appealing and he decided to come back. His character was Whistlin' Jak, a halfling that was raised by a killer who whistled when he was nearby, a moniker that Jak decided to take on for himself. Very mistrustful at first, his quick fingers and nimble frame means he can steal, stealth, and shank with the best of them.
Jeff S. / Dr. Brahms (LN Cleric (Asmodeus) 1): Jeff is a friend of mine from long ago, and I have been trying to get him into more Pathfinder for a while. He played one Society game, but a lack of time on both our ends meant that I wasn't able to get him into another game since. The biweekly game was perfect, and Jeff knew the party needed a Cleric. He wanted to go the Alchemist route as he did for his Society character, but decided to make a Cleric instead, albeit one who was still somewhat based in science. So was born Dr. Brahms. A priest by necessity, he still practices medicine and is not afraid to break some fingers to get the answers he needs.
Those are the players. I told them if they wrote some kind of a session summary, then the next session they could get a bonus to a skill. Some will take me up on that, others may not. The results shall be posted here.
Enjoy!
I woke up with sand in my mouth and something nibbling on my foot. If it wasn’t for the sand I would have figured it for a “traitorous” rat. I thought I had bought their loyalty with scraps of food.
Snapping myself back to reality I realized I was wet and on a beach, some sort of crustacean was eating my foot. Jumping up I grabbed for my long stiletto at my belt. It was gone. Checking my inventory of daggers, I found only one, the one I keep strapped to my back, underneath my shirt.
Whipping it out, I realized I couldn’t get an advantage against the beast, its shell covered all of its vulnerable spots, except for a spot under its scorpion-like tail. Probably an area used for mating. Seeing another person on the beach, a human, I ran over and kicked him none too softly. With a grunt he rolled over and looked into the sun. Hearing the clicking of the creatures claws he “kipped up” like he had some training and assumed a fighting stance. As he tried to kick it in the face, I moved behind and stabbed it in the spot hoping to do some damage. It worked, there most have been a vital organ underneath because it died quickly.
Wiping my dagger off on my pants, I saw the human run off towards more of the creatures. A small group of my “shipmates” were attempting to hold a couple of the beasts off with spell and crossbows. Tempted to ignore them I looked around for my stuff. Unfortunately it was on the other side of the beasts. I leapt past one, having to flip over its lunging tail but as I came up I saw the same weak spot and thrust my dagger in, killing that one as well. I saw that it had acid burns all over its face.
The last creature crawled back into the sea, wounded and unwilling to stand against the large group that had assembled. In the confusion, I grabbed my stuff from the pile of equipment that had washed ashore. I also grabbed a beaded necklace that looked valuable and had tangled itself on one of my daggers.
The group introduced itself to each other, I hung back. Seeing a woman with a mantis tattoo on her back I attempted to pass myself off as a human child. It works sometimes with those not too familiar with Halflings. I forgot that I had a couple days of beard on my chin; it didn’t make my disguise too convincing. She wasn’t fooled, or even too mad about it. I wondered about the tattoo though. Was she a Red Mantis? Was she here to check up on me?
A few members of the castaways wanted to check out the wreckage of our ship that we could see from the higher ground. I figured I would go with them, it was better than setting up camp. Besides I could see no one recognized me, I wasn’t technically a passenger on the ship. If I was gone, it would avoid questions.
We approached the wreck but had to wait until the tide went out, before we could quickly scurry onto the deck. I noticed movement behind me and jumped just in time to avoid a claw of an even bigger crustacean than those on the beach. Unfortunately this one was more coordinated and lashed out with another claw and its tail. It drew blood and the tail stung when it pierced my shoulder. One of my companions shot a bow at it, but it didn’t penetrate its shell. Knowing I could probably kill it if I could behind it, I waved him over. Dodging all of its attacks, now that I knew they were coming, I thrust my stiletto in the same spot and found the same organ. It died just as quickly as the others.
One of my companions, a doctor, came over and looked at my wounds. Deciding they were serious he took out a vial of blood and dripped a bit in the worse cut. He said a few words and stroked a symbol of Asmodeus. A waft of brimstone filled my nose and my wounds burned, a little too hot to be comforting, but I could see them begin to close. Whatever he did, it was working.
We explored the rest of the ship; we found some valuables in the Captain’s quarters. Everyone was a little too observant for me to slip them into my pack. I was the only however that realized the true quality of a model ship. A number of maps and logs were there too, the hooded man seemed to be a spell caster so I offered them to him. He grunted as if he was pleased.
We found some supplies and brought them back on a make shift sled. I rode back for most of the trip aboard it; it was hard to keep up with my long legged companions.
Time passed back at camp, a serviceable shelter had been made, and all the castaways attempted to get to know each other. I robbed the snitty gnome of his money pouch, he didn’t have as much as his demeanor suggested.
The cleric Jask, was an enigma though, he was chained in manacles that resisted my picks. I hated to see a person locked up and wanted him freed. Besides, if I did so, he would owe me a debt. I took a ring of keys that I had found and unlocked him. The paladin in the group objected and quickly locked the cleric back up and talked to him a bit before freeing him. I guess he wanted the credit for being the good guy. Damn paladins.
Snakes attacked during the night, I rolled over threw a dagger in their direction, and went back to sleep. It seemed the problem was taken care of by the rest of the group.
The next day we decided to find a lighthouse the robed wizard knew of. Maybe the height would show us more of the island. We passed a shipwreck, but nothing was of value there. Everything was pretty boring until that night when we heard the rustle in the woods. Our fire showed the forms of thousands of spiders coming at us. Waking my companions up, I ran a little bit into the woods hoping that the spiders would pass us by. They didn’t. The doctor kept invoking Asmodeus’ name. It seemed to awash the spiders in flame, weakening them each time. The spiders still managed to swarm around the doctor, choking him with their bodies. He managed to crawl out of the swarm, when the paladin threw himself in their path. Using nothing but will power and healing potions to withstand the pain of the all of the bites the paladin stood there and endured. After what seemed like an eternity, but was likely only a few seconds, the last of the spiders shriveled up and died in the flames of the doctor’s power.
We were saved -- for now. I was starting to hate this island.
|
Erastus 2nd
Aboard the ship at last. A week in The Shackles is enough for any man, and I’d spent nearly twice that in that stinking port of Quent, wading through beggars, drunks, thieves, and whores, and doing my best to avoid stepping in the waste and excrement that practically pave the roads—good shoes are damnably hard to come by in this region. The price of information does seem to scale quite nicely with the quality of life and it came as a pleasant surprise how loquacious some of these fellows become when you have a full bottle to offer. Maybe this whole priest thing has it's advantages after all. One tavern keeper made himself a bit of a problem and not only began asking me too many questions in return, but he also cared little for my answers. How rude. I reminded him cheerfully that fingers are a luxury and demonstrated the lesson in a manner most self-evident.
Near the end of my stay, I had the wonderful fortune to run across a healer by the name of Jorahn Heidor who had stopped in the port in hopes of finding a group of like-minded altruistic souls to bring the light of civilization to the savage jungle. A very pleasant chap, and quite well-meaning too, but he really should have been more careful. The alleys can be quite dangerous here. Pity, the poor fellow. His loss is my gain, however, and I have secured passage on just the sort of vessel poor Mr. Heidor was seeking. The Jenivere happened to pull in to port not an hour after I learned of his unpleasant end, and as fate would have it they are indeed in need of someone with medical skills.
My quarters aboard the Jenivere are uncomfortably tight, the smell is only marginally better than the pub toilets in Quent and I seem to be sharing them with a sizable brigade of rats who doubtless paid far less for passage than I had to, but at least we're moving. I've found what I came for in Quent and I'm eager to proceed. My understanding is that our course is now set for Port Peril which will be our last stop before finally leaving The Shackles and turning towards that dark Mwangi Expanse.
Erastus 23rd
Departed Bloodcove at dawn. The journey so far has been largely uneventful. I've taken it upon myself to reconnoiter the rest of the vessel, wandering under the guise of confusion and misunderstanding. I'm reasonably certain that there is a stowaway aboard, but vocalizing such suspicions now would gain me nothing.
On my fifth day aboard and several days still out from Port Peril, a sailor suffered a terrible fall from the rigging, breaking a number of bones including a rather nasty compound fracture of his femur. His screams through the night produced an absolutely dreadful racket and made sleep nigh impossible. I offered my surgical expertise for this soul and, lacking much in the way of recourse, the captain obliged me. The operation was a resounding success and afterward my sleep was sound and restful. The sailor's burial at sea took place that morning and was quite touching; colorful anecdotes, sea shanties, and what I must say was a surprisingly eloquent eulogy from the captain.
Arodus 8th(?)
Upon reflection, perhaps Quent wasn't such a bad town after all. A little dangerous, perhaps; dirty, sure; but such things are no problem if you are a skilled navigator of conversation and possess a modicum of charm. Even the Jenevire, for all it lacked in creature comforts, was an environment that suited someone of my particular skill set. This island? This is not what I had hoped for.
I awoke this morning with a feeling that things weren't quite as they should be. The crab-scorpion creature doing its damnedest to abscond with my foot quickly confirmed this suspicion. Gradually, several of my erstwhile traveling companions came to and we were able to dispatch our crustacean welcoming party before any serious harm could be imparted. I was reminded in the process why I've previously left my crossbow as a last resort; this situation will be unpleasant enough without blame being laid at my feet for punching a hole through a comrade's skull.
After recovering and assessing the situation, a group of us, headed by a self-righteous but clearly talented and supremely useful paladin, headed west along the coast to explore the wreck of the Jenivere. Some useful supplies were obtained, and I narrowly managed to prevent our teetotalling paladin friend from smashing a perfectly good bottle of brandy. Another of our little group, a rather vertiginous robed fellow with a charming accent, discovered the captain's log. The first officer's body was also amongst our findings, and coupled with the contents of said log, it's looking more and more like our little nautical mishap was an intentional act by the captain. When I find the bugger, I plan on expanding my medical practices into dentistry.
|
|
Arodus 8th, (cont.)
Back at the camp, it seemed a natural time to take inventory of our little group of castaways and see what can be done. A brief discussion took place over the fate of a manacled prisoner claiming to be a cleric. Naturally, he protests his innocence (never a guilty man in prison, right?) and while it seems clear to me he's telling the truth, I'd previously taken steps to ensure a need for my talents in this group—thereby reducing redundancy of duties and streamlining our party by increasing efficiency—and it would be prudent not to rule out any potential courses of action at the current juncture. I did find tremendous amusement in Dear Leader's wild changes in attitude toward the prisoner. He'd better watch out or that self-righteousness will cause a nasty case of whiplash. The halfling seemed eager to free the man and clearly harbors an anxiety towards restraints and imprisonment. It has not escaped my attention that he was not among the passengers or crew of the Jenevire and confirms my belief that a stowaway was on board.
The half-elf is certainly an interesting specimen. Clearly a mid- to late-stage alcoholic, despondent, withdrawn, and sullen. Clearly, a great deal of weight is on her mind, and I'd read enough tales of adventure through my youth to know that whatever she is hiding will be quite pertinent to our present situation. More amusement ensued when the paladin, upon noticing her particular thirst, embarked on an impassioned lecture on the evils of alcohol. It was all I could do to hide my laughter! Maybe this little island detour is not so horrible after all. How myopic can one be? If a subject has information you have an interest in, and you are in possession of the one thing they desire, you have power over them. He is hamstrung by his altruism and cannot see how a little moral flexibility (not to mention tact!) can pay vast dividends down the line in helping the cause. After he'd tired of running himself into a stone wall, I stepped in and offered to share the bottle of brandy I'd rescued earlier in a gesture of goodwill. Naturally, it worked well. Until that robed fellow got a little too cheeky and was nearly laid low in two blows from the girl. Best laid plans and all that. At least it afforded me another opportunity to make use of my medical skills.
Arodus 9th
This evening, the paladin engaged me in a brief discussion regarding my beliefs and intentions, considering them quite suspect. How can someone such as myself—a priest who follows what other men consider an evil god and healer capable of doing great bodily harm—possibly be a good man? How can I of all people purport to serve the causes of good? It is this sort of shortsightedness and narrowed scope of thought that I fear may cast a blight not only over our group, but perhaps the world itself one day. Have I done things that may be considered by some who lack understanding to be wrong, or even evil? Yes, there can be no argument there: I have killed men before; I have lied and practiced the arts of deception; I have threatened men with bodily harm and carried out those horrifying threats with a surgical efficiency. But I do it precisely because I am a good man. And to the blind and the naïve, this does not follow.
In an ideal and perfect world, the path of good would be straight and clear; etched with impossible beauty and lit with warmth as it guides us along and ever upwards towards Utopia. There would be no strife or conflict, the right choice would invariably be the easy and obvious choice, and never a drop of blood shed or sacrifice made. The truth, however, could not be further from this idyllic vision. This upward path does indeed exist, but it is not paved with fine stone and precious jewels, it is built with the bones and blood of men—sometimes good men, righteous and hardworking—who have been called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice in order to benefit the world. In reality, the choice is rarely to save a man or to let him die, but rather to kill one man or let a thousand die. Those who do true good in this world must by necessity become the accountants of souls; weighing, assessing, and adjusting ledgers and scales accordingly.
I ask you, think of this: our world is on the precipice of great change. Technology itself is a device perpetual motion and the progress of which cannot be halted; the tools of death will rapidly grow more complex and more efficient. As time goes on, the human cost of conflict will skyrocket as we become more and more practiced at the task of taking lives. Soon the technology will exist to lay waste to entire armies like grain before the scythe. We will not measure the toll of conflict in the thousands or even tens of thousands. Likewise, our population will continue to grow; pushing cities to expand ever outwards and forcing endless expansion in the search for room to breathe. Resources are different. They are finite, like the world itself. Over time, we will see our nations grow, and, as boarders press more tightly against each other, become increasingly entrenched. As this happens, the casus belli will bloom like wildflowers and these nations will be over more eager to lash out and put to use these new weapons of war and ignite conflict on a scale that is nigh-unimaginable. If a man must die—even an innocent one—to prevent such a conflict, surely it is for the good of the world, is it not? Men like myself, men with drive and clarity of vision, have been tasked with safeguarding the very world itself, and is there a cause more just or good?
That road to the heavens exists, and I am its architect.
Arodus 10th
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep, the spiders will eat me.
Can't sleep....
This place is a waking nightmare. Diseases have taken hold in all of us, only our adventuring doctor is keeping us up and about. However I have doubts about his cures, they seem to be worse than the diseases. He tells us with a gleam in his eye that the diseases would get to the point we would no longer be up and moving about if he doesn’t treat us. What scares me is that he takes more joy in his knife work than my namesake ever did.
Where did you go Whistlin’ Jak? I may have taken on your name, but I don’t have your confidence yet. This island is getting to me. The dreams I have had and heard others mention scare me. I keep going, fighting the strange creatures on this island keeps my adrenaline up, and while it is pumping I find the courage to go on another day hoping soon we will find a way off this cursed isle.
It’s still hard. The flying dinosaurs swoop out of the sky and poison our mage, he keeps going every night, but underneath his heavy cloak I know he falters. We found some potions that help him to regain his strength, between those and the doctor, I hope he keeps up.
The strangest thing we have encountered was a woman with moldy yellow clumps growing out of the sockets where her eyes would be. I have heard tales of men risen from their graves, zombies. That is the best name I could give her, but it seems wrong. The paladin went into a cold fury when he saw her and his sword sizzled with energy when he struck her. It appears when he faces a truly evil abomination his god lends him some divine strength. It was inspiring to behold.
Giant crabs have been keeping us fed while we are away from camp, although the mage weakened from all the poison in his system seems to have trouble with it. The doctor was quite intrigued with a stool sample that he took from him one morning. Mother may have wished that I had become a doctor, but seeing the joy he takes in the macabre, I am glad that I have chosen another path.
Speaking of which, the traps that my mentor chose to show me, are nothing like the ones on this island. They are cunning in their simplicity and blend in with the surroundings, even while looking for them they caught both me and the paladin by surprise. They also appear to be set to kill and not just impede us. We both suffered grave wounds, which required the doctor to make prayers to his dark god.
One of the castaways, Sasha, is a skilled hunter. She showed us a few tricks on using our surroundings as a diversion when we attack our foes. Giving us a few extra seconds to ready our attack and hopefully strike before our opponents. I wonder if there is anything else she could teach me. I do not know how long we will be on this island. I will take any advantage that I can get. I need something to keep my mind occupied, the days have started running together I can hardly tell one stretch of beach from another.
|
|
Arodus 13th
This damned jungle. We continue to the south, in pursuit of some lighthouse the elf claims to have seen in his dreams, and while it may not seem the most tactically significant of destinations, my curiosity has been sufficiently aroused. A rational man's first impulse upon discovering himself shipwrecked on an uncharted island, covered in thick and menacing vegetation and populated by zombies, spiders, and carnivorous crabs, might be to construct a means of escape; gather supplies and cobble together some sort of raft and head off in hopes of drifting into a merchant's shipping lane. And yet I cannot escape the feeling that there might be something useful gained by exploring this godsforsakened chunk of land. And so we, our little merry band of adventurers, march onward.
A bit about my companions. I have written at some length regarding the philosophical disparities that exist between myself and the paladin, and yet, truth be told, any real animosity is academic; verbal sparring, and little more. It is unclear where precisely our course will take us, but he seems more than capable of leading the way—if only because he seems far more willing to subject himself to the stabbing, burning, poisoning, and maiming that is inevitably tied with this hobby. I, being the gentleman that I am, acquiesce and indulge him.
The halfling (note to self: do not refer to him as a dwarf. Unwise.) has proven himself to be problematic. On the one hand, he is quite convivial and pleasant, and in combat has proven himself superbly efficient with that little blade of his. On the other hand, objects have such a peculiar tendency to find their way into his pockets. That diminutive little pilferer not only stole one of my potions, but had the nerve to try and sell it back to me for a profit! The temerity! I may have committed a plethora of questionable acts in my past, but never for the purpose of greed or personal profit. I'd suggest making use of those now-free manacles we have in our possession, but it does seem that, all things considered, he's more useful walking free. For now, at least.
That leaves the elf. A most mysterious and intriguing fellow. Frightfully tall, and thin enough to raise concerns of malnourishment or some other wasting disease. He's rather fond of demons, much to the chagrin of the paladin and thus my amusement, and possesses a most peculiar affinity to acid as a means of defense. Of the other members of our group, he is probably the closest to my own sensibilities and the most enjoyable to engage with in conversation. A great source of shade when the sun is particularly effulgent, as is often the case on this island. That bone he's always carrying around is a bit unnerving, even if I can't put my finger on exactly why....
Arodus 15th
The last few days exceedingly painful. Operation successful and the leg was saved. Numerous traps have slowed progress and spilled a great deal of blood. Beginning to suspect that a change of course would be most prudent. Further entries will follow upon recovery.