Pathfinder-ish Campaign...

[Tk'ya'pyk]

I am going to regret doing this, but this might be the best place to set it up.

I'm bored. I've been playing D&D in some way, shape, or edition since I was 8. I am now... just shy of 43. Most of that time I was the DM. Therefore I pose a challenge: Is anyone interested in doing another forum RPG? This will use Pathfinder/D&D 3.5 edition rules. I would be game master, but players would have a reasonably free hand/talon/whatever in their characters' actions. Right now, I'm just looking to see if anyone is interested. If you are, DO NOT POST HERE. Send me a Private Message, please, along with what you would like to play.

HOWEVER, while I will be keeping track of things like your equipment and stuff, keeping track of your character stuff will be YOUR JOBS. This may be a deal-breaker for some, but I don't have the time to do all of the book-keeping. Good news! Pathfinder 1st edition rules and books are ALL ONLINE AVAILABLE FOR FREE!

Seriously. Look here: http://legacy.aonprd.com/ Paizo made them available a while ago, and while not totally up-to-date, they will work for this campaign.

As I said before, if you are interested, send me a PRIVATE MESSAGE. DO NOT POST HERE.

 

[Tk'ya'pyk]

As adventurers, you have spent a good deal of time studying and honing your skills. Of course, this time spent was not without its dangers.

Over the last year, you and some choice companions managed to overcome whatever challenges that came your way, but companions, allies, and friends, were all lost in the execution of those adventures.

Things have settled down in this region, so in order to find more challenging tasks to perform you and your companions will have to journey to more... dangerous... locales. There are two ways to do this. The hard way, and the easy way.

The hard way involves traveling across three hundred miles of waterless, salt-laden desert

The easy way... requires a ship! So you and your associates are in the port of Al'Akhdar, seeking voyage to other lands. It turns out there is a small merchant convoy that is hiring adventurers and mages as guards and for other tasks. They do not care about the adventurer's race or class, merely that they are willing to work. The pay... is not so great, but as an adventurer of journeyman rank, you qualify to earn 15 silver coins a week. For an adventurer, that isn't much, but many merchants struggle to earn that much in a month.

You have some time to kill before the convoy leaves, and have spent much of this time in the company of each other and various townsfolk. Equipment needs repairing, supplies need to be purchased, and the loading of cargo continues apace as you bide your time. But soon, soon your voyage will begin.

A voyage that will take you places you could only dream of...

 

[DeathBringer125]

I am Drakk, I have always had a gift of reading the stars for ancient secrets, known only to the most studious Diviners. As a Kobold, my love of the Heavens was strongly frowned upon and I was exiled from my tribe at a young age. None of my tribemates actually knew where I came from, my parents are unkown, though I definitely stand out with my Blackish purple metallic style scales, and fairly large dark wings, thought of as a blessing in Kobold society. After my exile, me and my pet Leopard Gecko named Calabash set off the discover what it was like above ground, and to search for knowledge of the Stars. Pretty soon I realized I had some strange power, I could hurl tiny meteor shards down from the sky or even see the future, this led me to discovering I was a Sorcerer. Now with Calabash and a slew of other companions I set out from Al'akhdar on a quest, which I hope will lead me to new discoveries about the Heavens, maybe even who my parents were.

 

[Erta Wanderer]

izema is obviously not human his mouth is all sharp teeth like the points of swords he has learned that those who don't know him are not reassured by a friendly smile. his ears are pointed like an elf but with notches in them so that they resemble more fins of a deep sea creature then any thing else. his skin while at first glance looks normal is less pliant and more rubbery then it should be. and his eyes when roused to anger or fear turn predatory and compleatly black as the pupils expand to block out all else.
despite this and the treatment it has caused throughout his life Izema is a Cheerful man quick to laugh, quick to brawl, and quick to make friends after.
he is dressed in traveling clothes, knee high boots, brown pants, a auburn shirt from which steal rings can sometimes be seen underneath, he has a cowl that shimmers in the light and has all kinds of hidden pockets.
his arms are covered in tatoos from places he has been and the scars of mistakes he has made. he caries a shield and leather gauntlets with spiked knuckles but beyond that no weapons can be seen
and last and most importent he has a pendant made from a materiel not found on this plane. it has no useful or valuable properties

 

[TheCrazyKhorneGuy]

I'm Drew, I am a loner and have survived for years on my own. I haven't relied on anyone's help since my parents' deaths when i was only 10. 25 years without encountering any decent people has built up a strong wall of distrust against anyone I meet. I have learned to kill and honed my skills in that art in the years of fighting off countless small groups of bandits. I yearn for brotherhood and friendship but do not want them for the fear of betrayal. My parents' deaths came only from betrayal. The only people i have encountered that i haven't killed are my employers. in every city or town I come to I take up small jobs to keep myself fed and clothed, but besides that the wilderness is my only companion. One other thing i am willing to tell you, now that you are going to become my companions through this journey, is that sometimes when i get alone with my thoughts, they catch up to me and i think about the dying faces of my parents. It haunts me that i couldn't save their lives that day, if only i knew how to kill then like i do now. These people seem to be decent but i still have trouble trusting them.

 

[Tk'ya'pyk]

Ships... ships are nice...

 

[Lizerd]

Me am Garutis. Is the introduction of the strange north lander. Clad in furs of various creatures most of his form is hard to make out, although from what can be seen he has a tall, stocky form like other northmen. He wears thick half plate armor, covered in scratches and scrapes from dozens of fights. Garutis wields an unnaturally cold and sharp axe that he plucked from a Knight who foolishly challenged him. His helmet obscures most of his face, except for his eyes. On both sides of his helmet are horns, torn from savage beasts in the north, and curiously in between them on his helmets brow is a single red shiny rock that Garutis likes the look of. Ever since he accidentally saved a passing noble from a pack of wolves, various people have been hiring him for bodyguard jobs. They give him these round shiny objects in return that have utterly no meaning to Garutis. However he has noticed people give him food and ale if he gives them various amounts of shiny things (although counting for him is extremely difficult). Now he is being employed by a food seller for more shiny things.

 

[Tygon]

I'm Kiaccawwirowk.

Most people call me Kia.

I'm a kenku. A crow-person, as some say. I guess it's a fitting enough description, although most kenku don't like it. I did not grew up among my kind though. My mother was the servant of a wizard, and I grew up in his tower. I'm a little over four feet tall, have black feathers, dark grey feet and hands and a dark grey beak. I usually wear simple linen clothes, dark by preferences and a simple cloak.

I learned to read early in my life, since there wasn't much else to do in that tower. So I read a lot. I even tried to do some magic, but nothing ever worked. However, I did discover that I am good at mixing potions. I tried it in secret, nicking ingredients and tools and mixing things in an old cupboard. Until I blew it up. My mother was furious with me, but the wizard was delighted. He proceeded to teach me alchemy, herbalism and all the skills required for that and I became a pretty good at it.

For a while things were really nice. Until the wizard died. He was pretty old, so it wasn't a big surprise, but still sad. The wizard who took his tower had his own servants, so mother and I had to leave. She decided to return to our own people, but I had read a lot about the world and wanted to see it. That's how I ended up as an adventurer.

 

[Sudsinabucket]

I am Tarkaz, a Minotaur.

I hail from the region where rivers flow and meet with the ocean, where savannah meets desert. My tribes appearance is not that of the typical Bullheaded Minotaurs that roam throughout the world, we look closer to as humans say, water buffalo. My slate blue skin and black fur is mostly hidden by my armor, tunic and pants. What most people notice first are my horns: Tattooed in the symbols of my people and adorned with rings that clang against one another in the heat of battle.

My tribe was attacked by warring dwarves, calling upon my deity I was able to help thwart total annihilation of my village, but not before many including my mother and our chief was slain. In cold blood they took our riches and many of our people. Through mercenary work as a warpriest I slowly hunt down those who wronged the innocent and any who stand in my way. Using my greatclub I smash in many skulls, and my banded armor deflects and protects my hide from blades.

 

[Tk'ya'pyk]

(apologies. I was going to have pictures for this, but my drawing skills aren't what they used to be)

Dawn comes early in the port of Al'Akhdar, the rising sun casting a brilliant flare of light that makes the walls of the old citadel glow green. Like the citadel, most of the town is crafted from the green-tinted marble hewn from the surrounding hills. This makes the entire town look like a mossy blotch among the white sand of the desert, and causes the bleached, weather-worn wood of the docks to stand out like old bones. Al'Akhdar is an important mid-point in the local trade routes, and thus the perfect place for a group of adventurers to find passage to other lands, or perhaps work.

Because of that, your party stands on the docks as the sun peeks over the horizon, waiting to board the Moonsister, a Caravel (ship) in the service of the Moonsail Trading Coster. Your group have been hired on as crew for the duration of the voyage, at a salary of 15 silver each per week plus hazard pay. Daybreak is a horrible time of day to be awake, but it is necessary as the ship will be sailing with the tide. For the last three days you have watched as load after load of trade goods and blocks of the local green marble have been loaded onto your ship, and finally she is ready to sail.

As you clamber up the gangplank, you are... greeted, for lack of a better word... by the captain, Naresh al'Dyeshar. Tall and proud, she stands eye-to-eye with your tallest party member, her body hidden by the loose silken clothing she wears. Her dark skin is in stark contrast to the white silk. Her face is somewhat round, her cheeks high and full, her nose broad. Green eyes look out past it, though your gaze is drawn away from them for a moment to the ring of silvery metal that pierces one nostril. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at the lot of you as you board her ship.

This is the deck plan of her ship:

"Good, you are all here. I want to sail within the hour. Come with me, I will show you to your quarters." She leads all of you towards the front of the ship, talking as she goes. "Front of the ship is the Bow. Port is the front-and-left side, Starboard is the front-and-right side. Rear of the ship is the Stern. Try to remember this, as I will be barking out orders during battle to direct people where they may be needed." As you approach the bow, she opens a door under the forecastle (raised front deck) and ushers you inside. "This is the crew quarters (area 5 on the above map). Singling out Kia, Drakk, and Ohmen, she pulls them aside and addresses the others. "The rest of you will bunk in this room. You three," she adds, gesturing to those she pulled aside, "follow me."

She guides kobold, kenku, and Ohmen down to the cargo hold, then to a room at the very back (15 on the map). "You and you," she indicates, pointing out Drakk and Ohmen are helmsmen. You will be bunking in here along with your feathery associate." Turning to the kenku, she casts the alchemist a wry smile. "Try not to set the ship on fire. We will be leaving port shortly. Stow your gear and meet me in the helm room (room 12) above us when you are ready." Turning on her heel, she stalks away, leaving you in the care of the room's fourth inhabitant, an elderly human.

Getting to his feet, he bows low in the local style and tugs at his beard. "Good dawning," he says to the three of you. "I am Rasmus, and will be sharing the helm duties with two of you. If you have never done this before, I cannot explain it. You simply have to experience it. Let me know when you are ready and I will escort you to the helm room."

 

[Tk'ya'pyk]

For those in the forecastle crew quarters: The crew quarters fill most of this bow room. Your bunks are hammocks made from very heavy rope, suspended from the beams that reinforce the ship's hull. A series of wooden "lockers" are built into the walls to either side of the door leading back onto the deck. One of the crew indicates which lockers are yours, and hands each of you the key to your locker. He gestures to which hammocks are unclaimed, and leaves you to settle in. "When you are done," he adds, "let me know. I have been instructed to escort you to the Helm room."

For those in the aftcastle helmsman quarters: This room is kind of rectangular, but the floor slopes oddly. Four hammocks, on rather odd-looking supports, are suspended across the short wall. Two low, two high. Rasmus has obviously claimed the lower hammock on the port side. There are four lockers in the room, two to each side of the door, for storing your equipment. They are... odd things, as anything put inside is meant to be held in place with netting for some reason? Regardless, each of you get a locker and a key.

Rasmus introduces himself slowly. He is human, a little over five feet tall and rail-thin. His skin is tanned and lined with his years of age, his sparse white hair hidden under a broad turban swathed in faded blue silk wraps. You cannot understand why he would willingly work on board a ship at his age until you see the silver slave-cuffs on his wrists. When your attention is drawn to them, he laughs and hides them back in the sleeves of his saffron-colored, silken robes. "Pay no attention to those, they are decoration these days. I have long paid off my debt to the Trading Coster and continue to work for them as I like to travel. As I said, I am Rasmus, the third Helmsman." You can hear the capital letter fall into place in that word, as if it bears some hidden weight that you don't understand. "I am a mage like the two of you, once skilled in the arts of Conjuration. Alas, I was not as skilled in my choice of investments, causing me to fall into paupacy when a ship I had sunk my savings into was lost at sea. I had borrowed money from the Coster to make my investment, and when I could not pay it off they rightfully insisted on my joining their crews in my current capacity. Before you ask, I was a little resentful at first, but I have come to enjoy my work. Now, let me know when you are ready and I will take you up to the Helm room."

 

[Sudsinabucket]

Tarkaz looks around at his new living quarters, and lets out a grunt, "This will do". Going to the Stern Side he claims a lower hammock, putting his bag in it. Taking the key given to him he opens up the wooden locker and puts all his belongings but his armor and greatclub into it, it still attached to his back by the crocodile leather strappings, a common sight amongst his tribe. Having claimed his hammock he then puts the bag into the locker, secures the lock on it, and loosens a ring from his horn where he then puts the key before tightening it back in.

"I am ready" his deep bellowing voice lets out to the crewman

 

[DeathBringer125]

Drakk takes a step into the room, and takes a deep breath. This would be his home for quite awhile and he suspected he would like it very much. The sky above Al'akhdar was beautiful during the night time, especially near the sea where the city lights but a distant memory. Seeing the old man arise Drakk took a step forward, offering his right hand to the man before saying "Good dawning to you Helmsman Rasmus! I am eager to become acquainted with my new duties. If my colleagues agree I think we could start at once." With this final word, Drakk walked over to the hammock on the bottom right and said "I will take this one if you don't mind.", before stowing his leopard skin bag inside the locker closest to his hammock. After this, he waited to see what his companions would do.

 

[Erta Wanderer]

Woo! i don't even have to fight for a top bunk! Izema stows his gear, he packs like a old adventurer having something for every occasion you could think of and many that you can't, and every thing neatly in it's place.
tat done he turns to the guide "i'm ready tell me where you need me"

 

[TheCrazyKhorneGuy]

Drew waits in silence while the others claim their hammocks, and takes the last one. He sits down and says "ready."

 

[Lizerd]

Garutis eyes his “bunk”. He’s never seen anything like it. Garutis pats the weird object, and decides to stow some of his gear, including his heavier winter clothes on the bunk. He deposits a pat with leather straps that look eerily like some kind of skin, and various furs. His cabin mates wrinkle their noses at the smell, clearly he hasn’t cleaned himself in a long time. However the fact that Garutis is massive and his axe has red stains on it prevents them from taking any action.

Having deposited his equipment, Garutis goes back up deck and begins to talk to Rasmus.
“You make sparkle flash? Garutis not like sparkle flash.” Garutis is clearly not a native speaker. He continues. “However me am ready”

 

[Nazqua]

-My Character Introduction-

I am everybody.

I am what I want you to believe, What I want you to see.

I am but a Wandering Shadow, a friendly face, joyous trader or grieving widow.

Brave and reliable like a valiant templar.

Destitute and poor like a streetside beggar.

Arrogant and imperious like a noble heir

Barbarous and Cruel like a troublesome thief.

Wretched and abhorrent like your worst nightmares.

My name is a scrawl of twisting characters and syllables. You however, You may call me Ohmen. Back where I originate from this branding of the soul, this label is barely spoken aloud by decent folk and referred only in children’s tales designed to fear and indirectly teach, all for good reason too… Many fractured memories still haunt me, even now…

My past is as twisted as my own limitless ambition. My own personality is now foreign to even myself, To even call it my own would be to butcher the intent of those that I share it with, Or rather, those that I have Solten it from.

To allow a more simple mind to picture it easily I would say the personality which I now loosely clutch with aged hands is one which reflects the ever-shifting, ever-dark colour and nature of my all-encompassing cloak. To stare too long at such a fine piece of perverted embroidery is to condemn one’s mind to fleeting minutes of crazed bewilderment and disorientation. Its forming, melting colours and images becoming emerald forests, opulent treasures, dazzling starlights, screaming faces or ever-more dubious wonders. wonders which arise and ripple from its uneven surface like the bodies of drowned men, thier faces and identity faced down to be obscured by the ashen lake which is the fragile, too easily corrupted human, or in this case, changeling mind. Swirling with a serpentine suggestion my cloak’s shadowy tendrils flow down to drape along the floor clinging onto its rugged surface in attempts of escape whilst I simultaneously embrace its chilling caress and burning grip, both of which my tortured cage, or as others say ‘Body’ has long gotten used to.

The bars of my cell from which I look out and witness what has become of this world are but dark pits, many find themselves instead drawn to the collections of strange beads, suspicious trinkets, crystalline spires, ribbons and seemingly animated fetishes which cling onto the interior surfaces of my cloak. Well its ethier that or thier eyes are instead faced to Wisdom, She who perches upon one of the dear antlers which protrude from the skull obscuring my face. She is my Raven, and will be the one who ensures your every move is watched with four eyes instead of just the two. As if in agreement at this moment the completely silent raven, so still it looks as if it could have been stuffed stirs before whispering yet another few sentences of sweet nothings into her master’s ears which would undoubtedly sow more seeds of suspicion of his companions within Ohmens fractured mind.

In a similarly grating, suggestive voice Ohmen now speaks out “W-Well… Thats enough about me, Lets perhaps Talk about you and your p-p-personality I-Instead …” before what seemed to be an overstretched, warped smile could be made out across his cracked skin. Leaning in his slender form and unnatural height only becomes more apparent as the cloak which drapes around him almost threatens to smother you.

Spoiler: Ohmen

​

Spoiler: Inspiration For Cloak

 

[Tk'ya'pyk]

As you get settled into your new quarters and stash your gear, the ship lurches a bit as the crew casts off from the docks. Interestingly enough, there don't appear to be as many crew on the Moonsister as there are on other ships at dock. This seems a little odd to all of you, but as the ship seems to be casting off with no issues, you assume everything is fine. As those belowdecks head up to the topdeck, you notice something a little odd about the cargo hold. Normally, you would expect the cargo to be spread evenly across the floor of the cargo hold. Instead, it has been stacked up in neat columns, filling all of the space floor to ceiling, with wooden shims filling any height gaps. Anything not in those stacks has been attached to the hold's side walls with netting and copious amounts of rope.

One by one, you gather on the main deck, where Rasmus and the unnamed crewmember await you.

 

[Nazqua]

The sound of metallic, rusted boots applying pressure onto the ship’s deck replaces the normal blur of speech as Ohmen walks toward the other rooms below in a strange, slow and methodical manner whilst his cloak gently flows with the salty sea breeze. Letting the others pass by he proceeds to unfurl his arm from a resting position before doing some sort of motion with his fingers and saying a handful of muffled words toward his left shoulder.

To no surprise Wisdom quickly stretches out her wings before cautiously looking around and taking flight to settle upon the ships extensive rigging where she now merges into the background absorbing in the full view of Al'Akhdar at dawn. Instead of gazing out in awe as the sun’s light bathes Green-tinted marble structures Wisdom instead watches with a more, curious and investigative glare, one that Kiaccawwirowk felt more than the others.

Now with the others having made thier way below-deck Ohmen abruptly stops in a slight shiver before his cloak begins to drift downwards. Seconds later Ohmen, Or well some form of smaller humanoid now grasps the cloak’s hood and pulls it away revealing a ruddy young halfling face. His hair is well kept and looks recently combed whilst his face is put at a gentle smile, there is however something seems off about it… an unnerving feeling likely arose from both the fact that those around the halfling knew that this was, in fact, a changing and the weird, unnatural sort of expressions placed upon his face as Ohmen got used to this new form like a puppeteer hidden behind his own work.

Having transformed Ohmen now proceeds down following the path of those before him freed from the disadvantages of being abnormally tall and slender.

 

[Tk'ya'pyk]

Once you have regathered on the main deck, Rasmus gestures for all of you to follow him. He leads the way towards the aftcastle. Not, however, to the top deck where the wheel is, but to the door below it. He leads you down a short hallway, then into the room at the far back of the ship (room 12). Along the way you have to step around the trunk of the stern-mast. "This is the helm room," Rasmus says calmly as he opens the door. When you all cast him confused looks, he glances at each of you in turn and frowns. "You have no idea what I am talking about, do you? Oh Naresh, what have you done?" Shaking his head, he leads you into the room beyond.

The form of the hull dictated a trapezoid-shape to the room. Large windows, the shutters closed over them, cover the far wall. The Port-side wall is covered in star charts, a large map-table immediately below them. Contrary to that, the Starboard-side wall is rather unusual. Charts cover that wall, but they are not charts any of you have seen before. Broad ellipses encircle a star in the center of one chart, with little dots marked on each oval. Each dot has a label, and one has a familiar label. The fourth dot from the center, for example, bears the name Tinsenail, which happens to be the name of the planet you are on! The table before that one is large and round, with a glass-domed center almost three feet in diameter! Currently the glass is dark, but even from here you can sense an aura of magic about it!

But the star of the show sits in the center of the room. A massive-looking chair, ornate and very solid looking, sits in the dead center of the chamber. Captain Naresh stands next to it, a sour look on her already annoyed face. "What I have done," she snaps at the elderly mage, "is hire the people I could get. Trained helmsmen are hard to find on this rock."

"But groundpounders? None of them will have any idea how to run the helm!"

"And that is why part of your job will be to train the newcomers," she replies with a smirk. "You are the one who told me we needed new blood! I have supplied that blood, it just needs the training!" Straightening up under the seven-foot ceiling, she pats Rasmus on the shoulder as she walks past him. "I have faith that you will do an excellent job. Now get to it. We're out of port and I would like to get moving soon!" Having said her piece, she turns and leaves the room.

Shaking his head, Rasmus looks at the lot of you, one at a time. "Lord of Storms, preserve me," he mutters irritably. "At any rate, this is the helm chamber, and that," he adds, pointing to the chair, "is the helm. It is a magical device that allows us to make the ship do miraculous things. It requires a spell-user of some kind to operate, arcane or divine. Be warned that it drains your magical ability for the day to power its abilities, so you will not be able to cast spells during or after use until you rest." You notice that he refrains from touching the chair as he explains. "Be warned as well that once you have been attuned to the chair, only a touch will cause the connection to start draining your magic for the day, which is why I am refraining from touching it right now." Crossing his saffron-sleeved arms over his chest, he casts his gaze over Ohmen, Drakk, and Tarkaz. "So which of you wishes to be first?"