Pathfinder Rise of the Runelords Play-by-Post Game Thread.



  • This thread is for use by the following player’s: TheDarkerOne, Captainzaku, Rexen and SoloTredici. Anybody else posting in this thread is going to have their post deleted.

    Chapter 1: Burnt Offerings

    Early morning, the Autumn sun rises on the day of the Swallowtail Festival. The turnout for the opening speeches is quite respectable, Mayor Deverin’s friendly attitude and excitement get the crowd excited for the festivities, cracking jokes about the local townsfolk to everyone’s amusement.

    Image of Mayor Deverin
    http://www.imarvintpa.com/Imagery/d/1053-1/Mayor±+Kendra+Deverin.jpg

    Sheriff Belor Hemlock brings the crowd down a bit with his dour mood, his reminder to be safe around the evening’s bonfire, and his request for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in the fire that claimed the town’s previous church several years ago. He also excuses the next scheduled speaker who was to be local nobleman Lonjiku Kaijitsu who was suddenly ill and unable to attend the ceremony, to nobody’s surprise.

    Image of Belor Hemlock
    http://dawnofanewage.wdfiles.com/local–files/balor-hemlock/pic_sheriff_hemlock.jpg

    Cyrdak Drokkus manages to bring the crowd’s mood back up with his rousing anecdotes. He delivers a not-completely irreverent recap of the long process the town went through to finance and construct the new cathedral and even throws in a bit of self promotion in at the end for the Sandpoint Theater to see the new production of “The Harpy’s Curse”.

    Image of Cyrdak Drokkus
    http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/assets/211021/SP-drokkus.png

    Finally Father Zantus steps up, but rather then give a speech simply declares the Swallowtail Festival to begin.

    Image of Father Zantus
    http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/assets/47961/FatherZantus.png

    Four soon-to-be heroes are in the crowd, 3 Humans and a Dwarf. Unaware that they are all about to be thrust into a fantastical adventure. Around the festival there are numerous games and contests take place before lunch including sack races, games of hide-and-seek, weight-lifting challenges, balance beam contests and tug-of-war events.



  • This thread is for use by the following player’s: TheDarkerOne, Captainzaku, Rexen and SoloTredici. Anybody else posting in this thread is going to have their post deleted.

    Chapter 1: Burnt Offerings

    Early morning, the Autumn sun rises on the day of the Swallowtail Festival. The turnout for the opening speeches is quite respectable, Mayor Deverin’s friendly attitude and excitement get the crowd excited for the festivities, cracking jokes about the local townsfolk to everyone’s amusement.

    Image of Mayor Deverin
    http://www.imarvintpa.com/Imagery/d/1053-1/Mayor±+Kendra+Deverin.jpg

    Sheriff Belor Hemlock brings the crowd down a bit with his dour mood, his reminder to be safe around the evening’s bonfire, and his request for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in the fire that claimed the town’s previous church several years ago. He also excuses the next scheduled speaker who was to be local nobleman Lonjiku Kaijitsu who was suddenly ill and unable to attend the ceremony, to nobody’s surprise.

    Image of Belor Hemlock
    http://dawnofanewage.wdfiles.com/local–files/balor-hemlock/pic_sheriff_hemlock.jpg

    Cyrdak Drokkus manages to bring the crowd’s mood back up with his rousing anecdotes. He delivers a not-completely irreverent recap of the long process the town went through to finance and construct the new cathedral and even throws in a bit of self promotion in at the end for the Sandpoint Theater to see the new production of “The Harpy’s Curse”.

    Image of Cyrdak Drokkus
    http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/assets/211021/SP-drokkus.png

    Finally Father Zantus steps up, but rather then give a speech simply declares the Swallowtail Festival to begin.

    Image of Father Zantus
    http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/assets/47961/FatherZantus.png

    Four soon-to-be heroes are in the crowd, 3 Humans and a Dwarf. Unaware that they are all about to be thrust into a fantastical adventure. Around the festival there are numerous games and contests take place before lunch including sack races, games of hide-and-seek, weight-lifting challenges, balance beam contests and tug-of-war events.



  • One of the humans moves out of the crowd and makes their towards the stalls. An oversized Greatsword rests firmly on his shoulders, whilst a well-worn Bag pack dangles loosely to his side. On his back rests a longbow and quiver, with enough arrows to turn any unfortunate adversary into a pincushion.

    http://www.blackborder.com/q/sites/default/files/images/li74_7vse95bieujt5.jpg

    He strides confidently towards the traditional shooting gallery stall, no doubt to test his aim and walk away with the tempting prize…



  • As the speeches end, the townspeople split apart to enjoy the festivities.  One person in particular chooses to just mill about.  His outfit had already began to return to its usual dusted appearance even though he had just gotten it washed the day before.  He entered town a few days ago with the plan of asking to see the local library or, if he was lucky, be able to explore the ruins of the old lighthouse that dominated the northwestern portion of the town.  However, the busyness that the town showed in preparing for the upcoming festival made him decide to instead help out with any small jobs that needed to be done and enjoy the festival, for he knew the ruins and books would still be there to look at after the festivities, whereas festivals are uncommon.  After looking around a bit he decides to watch people attempting the weight lifting and balance beam competitions.



  • I wade my way through the crowd, jostling people who get in the way looking for a sign post that points in which direction each festivity is happening.



  • Amid the passing colors of the festive crowd, a man of red-brown clad in traditional Varisian garb slid his way through with an unusual grace. In one hand, he clenched a deck of odd-looking cards that glittered in the autumn light. With his other hand, he cast a shadow over his eyes in an attempt to observe his surroundings. After spending many days as a boy observing the actions of the trash-searching goblins far below Junker’s Edge, the man has developed a keen eye for finding what he needs. Finally locating one of the few empty tables at the festival, he smiles with relief and continues to weave through the crowd towards it. It appears that Desna has something to show me, the man concluded as he arrived at the table. There, he sits down at one of the chairs nearby and starts to shuffle through his deck to make sure no cards slipped out…



  • Rexen:

    The Ranger strides over through the crowd to the archery gallery, the range itself is quite small with only a few targets at a range of 50 feet, judging by the vast amount of arrows on the ground it would seem like nobody has been able to hit them yet. You hear the gamemaster yelling, a small man with a green vest and a tiny moustache.

    “Come all and try your luck at the archery range, only 1 gold gets you three shots. Score a Bullseye and get an illustrious archery hat to show just how deadly you are of a sharpshooter, this event is open to all ages!”

    Captainzaku

    The sorcerer stands around watching the folk walk around when he notices somebody who stands out, a dwarf seems to be puzzled and frustrated looking around.

    TheDarkerOne

    The frustrated dwarf has a hard time getting around, shorter than the rest he is unable to locate and easy way to navigate the festival grounds. Kids running by him and cutting him off don’t do anything to help his already growing anger of being so lost.

    SoloTredici

    Shuffling his deck of cards he sits in solitude for some time until an elderly man approaches him, recognizing him as Father Zantus who gave the final call for the festivities to begin and as a cleric of Desna. He says to him:

    “That’s a very nice deck of cards you have there.”


    OOC: There’s no need to post narratives if you don’t want, the writing style should be Third Person Limited. Simply posting what you want your actions to be are sufficient though if you want to describe how you perform them to a greater extent that’s alright too.



  • God damn these people have no manners. Force my way forward until I can find something that can help me with directions.



  • Watching the competitions and being so far unimpressed, the sorcerer scans the crowd and sees a frustrated dwarf wandering in what appears to be circles.  Seeing that the dwarf is rather bulky, he decides to make the weight lifting competition interesting.  Pointing at the dwarf and whispering a phrase, he casts message on the dwarf.

    He looks away in order to not draw attention and says in dwarvish,“you seem to be lost.  This is a festival, you should just take your time and enjoy it.  You look like you could do well in the weight lifting competition.”  He then proceeds to give directions to the weight lifting competition.

    After he finishes talking, he ends the spell and smirks.  “Maybe I can watch someone actually win something now,” he thinks to himself.



  • Without a word, I toss a gold piece at the tiny man, dexterously drawing my bow at the same time. There might be some trick behind this, but nonetheless I grit my teeth and take aim. I let loose an arrow.



  • I look around to try and find where the voice came from and say in dwarven “Who deh bloody hell said dat? Sounded like a blitherin, knife-eared, milk drinkin, oaf facED, DANDY BOY, NON-DWARF. IF I GET ME HANDS HANDS ON YER DRESS WEARING, YANKY DOOFIN PENCIL NECK, THEY’RE GOIN TA FIND PIECES OF YA ALL THE WAY IN ARCADIA!”



  • The garbed man immediately stops shuffling and turns his head up towards the cleric.

    “Ah Father, that was a fine closing you made up there. I was just getting ready to offer answers to those who wish to know.” He pauses a bit, and then continues: “I’m afraid it has been a while since I have last done this, and I’m concerned that my abilities may be a bit rusty. Do you mind if I perform a test run with you?” He quickly adds: “Do not fret about expense; my services pale in comparison to the service you have done for this town.”



  • Rexen:

    Dexterity Check: 1d20[13] + 2 = 15

    The ranger pulls the bowstring back and fires, the arrow soars through the air and hits a bullseye. The short man’s jaw drops and is stunned for a moment as cheer erupt from those who witnessed the shot. The man turns to the ranger with a look contempt for a moment before changing his demeanour;

    “Well… It looks like we have a winner! Congratulations… what would be your name?”

    Captainzaku and TheDarkerOne

    The Dwarf begins to mutter insults in an angry voice, thankfully all also in dwarven leaving much of the people bearing witness to this in the dark as to what is being said. However he is not able to discern where the voice came from.

    The Sorcerer who was acting casually the whole time witnessed the Dwarf’s fit.

    SoloTredici

    Father Zantus sits down.

    “I suppose there’s no harm, it is a festival after all might as well indulge. But I would rather know what is in store for the town if you can perform such a reading.”



  • Noticing the dwarf only getting more frustrated, the sorcerer sighs.  Suddenly, he hears a loud cheer from the direction of the archery range and decides to walk over and check out what’s causing all the commotion.



  • I hesitate at the request, but I decide there can be no harm in telling him. I reach into my pocket, and after a brief moment of scrabbling around, I sigh as I pull out a small sheet of paper and pen. I scribble down something and hand it to the man.

    “Thrax Kiteblade”



  • I choose a random direction and go until I find anything interesting.



  • After hearing the cleric’s request, the garbed man paused again. He has heard of harrowings done for relatives and friends of the curious, but not quite for an entire town. Still, would he let an opportunity like this pass right by him? Absolutely not.

    “A bit sizable, but I’ll see what I can do,” the man responds with a smile, and proceeds to finish his shuffling. At last, he deals out nine cards face-down in a three-by-three arrangement onto the oak surface. He motions to the column of three on his left. He resumes his smile and adds, “Let’s see what Desna has to reveal to us.” He flips the cards.



  • Rexen and Captainzaku

    The sorcerer approaches the crowd in time to see the Ranger raise a sign, though he cannot quite see what it says.

    Confused for a moment at the ranger’s way of introducing himself, he turns to the crowd and announces “Ladies and Gentlemen, Thrax Kiteblade!”

    He turns to Thrax and pulls out a Robin Hood hat, puts it on his head and in a begrudging voice says

    “I guess you earned this.”

    TheDarkerOne

    The Dwarf makes his way through the crowd, forcing himself wherever just to get out of it until he comes face to face with the sack races as they are about to begin.

    SoloTredici

    As he reaches for the first card, a feeling a malevolence comes over him as the first card revealed is The Beating, an unrelenting assault from all corners. Hesitantly the second card is flipped over to reveal The Crows, symbolizing murders and violent loss of that which is loved. The third card feels just as malevolent, looking at Father Zantus the Sorcerer can see that Father Zantus can also feel the ill-omen of the cards. The third card reveals The Cyclone, an unstoppable, destructive force unleashed through the plots of intelligent creatures. The significance of these omens can mean only one thing, a great evil is about to be unleashed… Something is coming.



  • I accept the prize and hastily move away from the archery range, rather flustered by the experience but nonetheless proud of being the owner of a rather dapper headpiece. As I do so, I begin to wonder if the hat is enchanted or perhaps valuable to some extent.

    _Maybe it belonged to a hero of ancient times? A mythical relic from the mists of time handed down through a multitude of generations until it’s legendary effects became long forgotten. It could be an Elven artifact, somehow stolen from the vault of Celwynvian, and through a mixture of fenced sales and trades it somehow ended up in my possession….

    Unfortunately, I don’t have the ability to tell. But what I can tell, is that there is an unusual man amidst the crowd staring at me. His presence is giving off a weird vibe, and he is clearly an outsider. A magic user perhaps? Maybe he could have the ability to tell me? These magic users seem to know everything nowadays._

    I move forward to confront the strange man.



  • I utter “Nope.” as I turn 360 degrees and walk backwards back the way I came.


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