Blog Archive

Friday, 25 October 2013

Not So Undead - The Unfinished Race

Almost in time for All Hallow's Eve, a not so dead undead. Just think of someone who had died in battle or adventure, but simply arises, without explanation or reason. Who or how these beings come to being is up to you, but these are individuals that caused a glimpse of the "Other Side" and have returned. They are always hiding as they are neither fully part of either the living or the Dead communities. Fully sentient but with the foul appearance and horrible smell of their much better known counterparts.

The Unfinished 

CR 2
N Humanoid
Init +1; Perception +6

AC 16, touch 10, flat-footed 15 (chain mail 5)
hp 9 (2d10-2)
Fort +3, Ref +1, Will +2

Speed 30 ft.
Melee Dagger +2 (1d4+1)


Morale 12

Str 13, Dex 12, Con 9, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB 2 CMD 13
Feats:  Alertness, Endurance
Skills: Perception +3, Survival +3, Knowledge (Religion) +6, Stealth +6 and Sense Motive +5

Typical Weapons: Short Sword, Long Bow or Dagger
Languages: Jackalla, Dwarven & Common

The Unfinished (also sometimes called Necrites) appear as walking corpses, just entering rigor mortis. Most wear little clothing, and have little in the way of arms or other equipment. Since they appear as undead, they are greatly feared, shunned if not outright fought. However, their transformation and escape from the final death, they gain in both knowledge and sagacity. Many of these individuals become clerics of death gods or rogues, as they spend so much time in dungeons and other shadowy places of death and wealth. They have an significantly decreased appetites, surviving on a diet of fare found in dungeons: rats, bats or snakes but they can consume as per their original background. Since they are not traditionally born into existence, they do not have the same pull of romantic companionship.

Low level or mindless undead generally ignore the Unfinished unless they take action opposite to their base goals. More powerful, calculating undead often desire the Unfinished as their servants; evil ones often serve willingly.  It is not known whether the Unfinished die their own versions of a natural death, as most succumb in battle. Since they seem to find no respite in any location, locked between life and death, most Unfinished seem to find their place as adventurers.

Racial Levels: Racial levels work the same as class levels, they gain the benefits as listed. They can always take a non-racial class but they are then unable to rise in their racial class any further.

2 HD      +2 Wis, +2 Int, -2 Con, -4 cha;
               Pact of Tranquility
               Dual Nature
               Dmg Reduction 2 / blades;
              Gain BAB & Saving Throws as Cleric
              Gain Skill Ranks as Ranger (use Cleric or Ranger Skill List)
              +2 on knowledge (religion), Stealth and Sense Motive

Pact of Tranquility: They are never able to use a spell, feat or ability that enables them to command               or charm undead. While rarely allies,their nature prevents them from affecting their kin in a                             negative way

Dual Nature: Treat any spell or affect as a positive if it would affect either undead or living                             humanoid. If acting as either, cannot later act as the other during the same encounter on saves vs                   necromancy and undead effects

3 HD +2 Wis or + 2 Dex; Chill Touch 3 / day
4 HD Speak with Spirits or undead 3/day; +4 saves vs on necromancy and enchantment spells
5 HD Resist cold & electricity 10; +2 Wis or + 2 Dex
6 HD Death Pact I; Protection from Energy (10) 3 / day
7 HD +2 Wis or + 2 Dex; Damage reduction 5 / blades
8 HD Immune to Poison, Vampiric Touch 3 /day
9 HD Death Pact II; Damage reduction 5 / magic weapons of +2 or lower; +2 Wis or + 2 Dex;
10 HD Resist cold & electricity 20; Immune to necromantic and energy draining undead attacks; Treated as undead except they cannot be turned

+1 HD or level        Gain one level of a standard class

Death Pact I: Non-intelligent undead creatures of your HD or lower will not attack you (and your group if you are leading them) unless the group takes some sort of offensive or threatening move agaisnt them. It will take 24 hours of any pack member not seeing / interacting with any member of your group before the DPI is available again. You can have three times your HD as protected allies under your protection, if any take action all of you take face the potential attack of the angered undead.

Death Pact II: Intelligent undead creatures of your HD or lower will not attack you (and your group if you are leading them) unless the group takes some sort of offensive or threatening move agaisnt them. If you do break the pact, that intelligent undead will never have the treaty with you again. You can have three times your HD as protected allies under your protection, if any take action all of you take face the potential attack of the angered undead.

Wednesday, 16 October 2013

Sea of Stones - Pt 1 - 10 (Our Start)

The storm finally started to calm in the early Vornic morning, as the early morning Defenders came out of the town to keep an eye on things. A downed ship just off-shore sent out multiple magical flares in the dead of night, but nobody dared enter the storm to search for survivors until the rains calmed down. Almost as soon as the Zernic soldiers saw the signs of the Galjain ship, they turned back. They didn't care nor want even healthy ship-mates (or worse) coming to their town, and they certainly wouldn't help them get there.

Galjaic adventurers came here for one main cause: treasure! There were plenty of caves filled with rumoured pirate bounty on the sea-shore, but it is the ruined temple of Lagosh that most came for, to search for magical artefacts of the past. The lawful Zern would permit the (would-be) adventurers in town if they didn't cause trouble. But that never lasted long.

For those interested, I would like to run a play-by-post game using mostly Pathfinder rules for anywhere between 3-5 players.

How we play: DM will post, will give everyone one day, then post a response answering questions and leading the story.

This is a game about adventure, challenge and choices. It is NOT a game about dice, players will roll NO DICE to determine outcome.

Classes: Pick from below, all classes can pick ANY skill

Fighter, 6 skills, 3 feats
Priest, 6 skills, 2 feats, 4 spells/level + turn undead
Thief, 12 skills+2 feats
Ranger, 6 skills+track+animal companion
Sorceror 6 skills+2 feats+3 Spells+Spell-Burn
Paladin: 6 skills+2 feats+holy weapon

Human: Gain Extra Feat
Tenderfoot: (also called Halfling) Bonus to Stealth + Diplomacy
Jahlen (golden horned goat humanoid): Horn attack +Bonus to Climb
Dwarf: full shield+bonuses to poison saves
Mechanoid: (golem) does not eat or breathe, not affected by poison
Ratling: night vision + smell

Who is on shore? If you are interested, send me a response, stating, character name, race & class and what you are doing. Send a follow up email telling me your skills, feats and if appropriate, spells.

GOT GAME.....prove it!
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Slag Mechanoid Rogue

Slag wandered the town slowly and carefully, much like he did anything , his sensors keeping track of things around him and cataloging everything into it's proper place. He was in search of work to be sure, his own upkeep wasn't cheap and his inventions and artwork all took resources, resources he was growing low on. He searched for something well suited to his particular abilities, and even more so anything that might increase his knowledge of machinecraft or his own history. His last memories had led here but ended outside the city gates...everything from there was a blur, lost to him. Why had he been here? what had happened? Why didn't he remember any of it??
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Response 1:

Slag continued to walk deeper into town, carefully observing the people who though not outwardly ignoring him, were trying to keep their distance. There were some of the foot soldiers, but they didn't pay much attention after realizing what he was. And in a flash, he heard a sound, a whistle that summoned him back. He turned around and without thought or impulse walked immediately to the beach. As he did, he saw more of the survivors, approximately two dozen onshore now, some helping their mates, or handling the dead, or  scrounging around for equipment. Slag did nothing to assist any of them, this was not his assignment. "Slag!" someone called out, he walked toward the Quarter-Master Tolish, who held a commanding rod, "Assist with recovery. DO NOT LEAVE THE UNIT!" (What action do you want to take?)?

Slag looked at the survivors guaging their worth...they seemed if anything a hindrence to the group..he would begin to salvage what items of value he could find amidst the debris. If there truly was nothing of value there then he would begrudgingly help carry survivors back to the soldiers and whoever he thought most likely to have medical skills.

A cloaked form woke, dazed and confused amongst the chaos.  His good eye coming into focus, his magic felt depleted save for the basics.  Shocked at the large form that approached him, he tried to rise but was pinned down.  Turning to look at what was pinning him down, Orin Ragebearer, was confused but not shocked to find a body slumped over his legs...

Kaily, was watching the ship from a distance when it was going down and made her way the shore line to see if there were any valuables to add to her hidden collection. She went down, ignoring most the survivors, unless they looked wealthy.  It was easy enough to persuade them to accept her help but in reality she was “helping” herself to the contents of their pockets and jewellery.  She knew exactly what will bring in a good price in the right places. She wasn’t too concerned about others that may be doing the same thing or watching out for those like her-self...
 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Response 2:

Two human soldiers reached down, to help Orin up to his feet...they saw what he was and backed away. Any non-noble spellcasters were looked down upon, and Orin was far from the upper class of society, or else why would he be here? He came to his feet and saw the effort going on and had no spells that could quickly assist. He went to the nearest officer, Quarter-Master Tolish, who told him to stand-by.

Kaily found little to speak of, soldiers and sailors were the worst to loot, they drank all their money away. Though not dressed for it, she volunteered to be apart of the relief efforts.She quickly found her way standing next to a metal soldier and more humans, all looking ragged.

There were small groups of humans and dwarves helping to bring the injured over to Jadic, the highest level cleric on board the ship who did her best with spells and items to assist as quickly as she could. None of the Minotaurs who ruthlessly kept order on the ship among the "crew" were around; nobody really liked the smelly brutes but they were efficient and loyal which was what the Galjaic navy were always looking for.  Small crews were doing their best to bring provisions on board, on the escape shuttles. The main vessel, their war ship was the most visible item on the horizon, it's damage from lightning was apparent, some sort of magic was keeping it afloat for now...the crew, would do emergency repairs until they could get it to a dock for proper repairs.

Some of the non-aligned citizens from Ervatos, the nearby city, had started to come out to determine what had happened, and many of them began to assist in getting the hurt people into town. Officially the two cities, were among many in the Sea of Stones that were in competion for magic and slaves, unofficially many of the lower castes didn't care about their own Masters and tried to help or connect with each other when they could.

Slag, Orin & Kaily were called over, to help in securing the supply ships, hauling the long chains into shore. It was slow, heavy-going, but they kept a steady pace and in a few hours, helped to lead the shore crews bring four of the ships onto land. It was the last ship, that Slag noticed the carpet was half over the goods, in this case half a dozen of official emblazoned Pernic heavy armor. One of the lesser officers came over almost immediately after to cover up the goods, but said nothing to the mechanoid who kept on doing his duty.

Now there were more than 75 soldiers and others on shore with a makeshift camp. The worst injured were brought into the city, and the others were in the camp.

Seeing their exhaustion, Tolish told them they were relieved until later in the hour. What do you want to do? It is late afternoon.

Slag for the most part was quiet and stoic moving through the camp with an eye to details but not necessarily to people, if nothing presented itself as outside of the ordinary he would eventually settle down into a small space to himself and make any necessary repairs both to himself and to his equipment. He was a bit of a tinker in general , constantly at work on some new device or sketching out some new idea. When his self and equipment were in good repair and maintenance he would begin to sketch. His pencil flying across
the paper carefully detailing any ideas of the day so they would not be lost. He knew better than to get attached to any of the people, they were fragile and in ill repair. He had made the mistake of letting himself grow attached to one and would never make it again. People broke down, they stopped functioning and there was no way to fix them. ?

Response 3
Nothing particularly grabbed Slag's attention to the assorted mercs assorted on the beach, a little over half of the original crew, with none of the Minotaurs, the brutes that normally kept everyone in line. Nobody here were True Slaves, they all chose to come to the raiding mission - if it was the same as most of their missions, either the wildly chaotic elves or the savage lizardith.  As he began to outline the group and noticed the dwarves, unlike the humans, were in very tight formations as to where they stationed their tents and fires,  more so than the others. Then he realized their armor and weapons were considerably better then anyone else, not just an individual but the entire group. These weren't mere sell swords,these were true Myrmidons, recognized battle-hardened warriors...why were they here on simple raids?

After awhile they came back to the Quarter-Master who assigned them no actions, so they settled in place getting ready for the evening. There was some commotion, as merchants from the city started to come out, to see if these soldiers, these men-at-arms needed any food or ale. Short, tense conversations was the rule, little politeness between these sets of strangers, yet they both wanted something, so the trade kept on.

Slag sat down and began to outline the area in his drawing, saying nothing and starting to add the incredible layers of detail. After awhile as was his nightly habit, he closed his eyes and began to hum the only song he knew, the song that kept creating him, the one that echoed in his circuits every night, this was his refresh, the only time that he could heal any external damage. Though not asleep, this was one of the few times he was lost in something bigger than himself.  

He rose just before sunrise, and saw a set of officers meeting. A dwarf came over and stood nearby one of the sleeping tents, and as was there customs, began beating the morning drum,getting them awake, fed and started to move out. There were three main groups set up, patrol, transport and night-soldiers. Which group do you want to be assigned to first?

Slag ended his reverie refreshed and ready to face a new day. His contemplation of the day before had been how fragile these creatures seemed to be and an attempt to understand how they could be repaired or maintained.  He would keep track of the transactions going on about his general area, keeping an eye on prices and general demand..

He needed nothing from the merchants yet and had made nothing he wished to sell so he barely acknowledged them as once more he patrolled the camp looking for irregularities. He had little other plans or activities. It seemed likely that he would be of most use on the transport side of things using his superior strength and indefatigable endurance to provide a boost to such activities while still being able to double as a guard should the need arise.?

Response 4

There were no lots drawn for assignment, dwarves, humans and the few Minoutaur simply went to their duties. Dwarves, like Slag, went to the trading carts. The Dwarves put away their weapons and armor and began organizing the four carts, packed full of goods. There was virtually no space for the workers or their equipment, but somehow everyone was crammed in. Another two carts were for the soldiers. All six of the carts were pulled by Hederak, monstrously large creatures, a combination of horse and elephant, often used to attack giants. They seemed out place with their heavy fur in the jungle, but were well cared for by their Minotaur handlers.

For the first six hours, nobody said anything to you, other than the starting caravan passed by the local city, until it stopped at almost a random location, then you were asked to help unload the goods. As always, he did as commanded. They assigned most of the heavy lifting to you at first, you noticed that a few of the other dwarves had the same or greater strength than you, but your expertise at moving the boxes, especially in the wagons, was far more expert, so you were assigned there. That first day of travel there were three brief stops to sell goods, common placed ones that you could find at almost any trading spot. Yet, each time they stopped, customers were waiting to purchase their goods. Many of them came into one specific wagons, and each time left with a weapon in hand.

That first night, the day soldiers retired early, and the night ones came out, as the dwarves settled down. Many of them complaining about the drive, the conditions or their wagons. With no other mechanoid, you
were alone, at least at first. some of them offered you food and ale, but you politely turned them down. You spemd three hours on a superb outline of the camp and the jungle trees in the diminishing light.  One by one the dwarves fell asleep, and you, wishing to copy their pattern did the same, starting to listen to your internal hum. Less than twenty minutes later, you feel a hand agaisnt you. You realize one of the dwarves are trying to open your body cavity up...what do you want to do?

Slag would stop humming for the moment a subtle reminder that he was more than a machine. If the Dwarf continued with its actions he would step back one step, his hand moving to close the compartment. His voice loud enough to draw attention if any were close enough by "Was there something you required?" he would ask as always quiet calm and seemingly unflappable. ?

Response 5

The dwarven hand continued to rummage in the half darkness, franticly searching for the switch to open the chest cavity.  Your voice frightened the dwarf who Slag could easily make out the desperate act of running away, the would-be thiefs awkward backwards movement caused him to lose his footing. This had caused several other dwarves to be alerted, many grabbed their near-by weapons to come rushing.

"Dolok...what are you doing?" came one screaming dwarven voice. This was enough for Slag to open his eyes to see four dwarves immediately pounding down on the would-be thief. The whimpering response was not enough, as one of them bashed their comrade, knocking him to the ground once more.

"Golem... thing" the voice roared out, "Has this whipering snake stolen anything from you?"

This was one of the few dwarven names you knew Gnalid D'Kaepen, he was First Hammer on the mission, leader of the crew. "No."

Gnalid thought for a moment as his soldiers kept the would-be thief down. "Dolok, you are confined to the tent, when we get to proper civilization your arms are revoked, and you leave the Company."

"For what?" Dolok yelled, struggling to get up, "I didn't take anything, I was searching for contraband."

'For dishonour...and that's enough." Gnalid yelled, then went into one of the tents a few moments later came out with a pair of chains, throwing it down to his keepers, who quickly locked-up the would-be thief, and took him into one of the carts.

Gnalid came over offering you his hand, "My apologies for the lesser acting as a ...Tharon. We may take the spoils of victory, but we earn it with honour."  Slag knew Tharons, as the true lords of the water, the human empire that controlled everything they touched in the Sea of Stones. This was not their official lands, but they still claimed what they wanted and nobody was strong enough to stop them. "We have two more days until we reach the cavern, you are welcome to enter with us or change units,."

"My name is Slag." you say, and he begins to walk back to his tent...

Slag would take the dwarf's hand. It was a strange custom, a gesture of distrust that had evolved into a form of sincerity and greeting "I hold no one responsible for another's actions." he said earnestly, though as usual his words were clipped and measured and it might be difficult to discern his true meaning. "I see no reason to change units".  He would slide back to his place and go back to his reverie, his mind now on ways to ensure the person you were meeting with was not carrying a weapon...a machine to replace the primitive
device of clasping hands and shaking them to see what fell out.?

Orin sat patiently for a while but no tasks were assigned to him so he started to observe the various activities around the area. He noticed a perculior sight. It was some sort of construct but seemed to have its own motives. He followed the construct, who was called Slag. Orin hung back while the events unfolded with the dwarves. He quietly passed Slag and gave him a glance, then nodded. Orin then found an area with less of a crowd and waited for the Golem.?

Response 6

The remainder of the night passed by quickly, as Orin who was assigned to night patrol came to rest near the dwarven camp... he spent a hard night on patrol, with none of the humans and Jahlen saying a word to him, others came in groups, he was alone, and saw that like him the Golem was also mostly alone.

Crajin, Second Hand, came over and started a conversation with the lanky spell-caster just before morning meal.

"You carry no heavy armor, you...cast spells?" You nod.  "Priest or Wizard?

"Innate spells...Sorceror."

"Are you looking for a unit to join?" You nod again.

"You can carry stuff? Heavy stuff?" Again you nod, you know your leviatate spell would make a heavy load seem light and easily maneuverable. He points to a load of boxes, and in a second they were levitating a few feet off the ground. This time it was Crajin's turn to nod. "You'll work with Slag." He calls over the metal-man and introduces you to him, both of you recognize each other from the beach.

"Crajin, I was hired for delving...why are we acting as merchants?"

"We are on Zernic territory, they could stop us or make trouble with the Tharons. We come as merchants, and they let us pass."

"They know?"

Crajin nods, "We come twice a Turn. We have some weapons to sell, not enough to make a profit. But we know there are huge caches of coins in some of these caves. They don't have the ground forces, as they are pounded by the lizardith. Most times they let us take away what we find."

"Sounds fine to me, I know sometimes one needs to avoid unnecessary questions... Merchants move more freely. I am up for some treasure seeking. Any trouble we need to know about?". Asks Orin?

Response 7

"Mostly raiders - the lizardith are the worst, strong in number. The fey elves are quarter their number. but we have no quarrel with them, but the Zern have fought wars of intrusion. The zernic magic is far more powerful than the Galjaic, but they are spread out with their forces. That's why...we've come. Stories are told of great evil artifacts hidden beneath the caves. The Galjaic nobles know this is two jobs in one, fighting back the evil beneath and keeping the Zern at bay, that's why they indirectly hire us."

You hesitate, "You're not Galjaic?" you thought these were members of the aristocracy in Tonnax, their home city, High Galjaic where you and many of the crew come from.

He shakes his head, "We buy our rights, or they pay us to do their dirty work, which keeps the Zerns happy, which likewise keeps the Tharons away."

"You're all just..."

"We all pay the piper." He smiles and nods. It is crazy but that just seems to be the way.

Crajin says, "Tigers, girallons, apes, and snakes...the most common jungle beasties, but anything is possible, and always stay wary of the undead. Remember, bury or burn anything you kill, as that which is not put to rest will always return."

Morning meal quickly morphed into the trail, as the night soldiers traded positions with the day ones, and they headed out. Orin noticed even more soldiers out there, some he wasn't entirely sure were originally on the ship.  He was on a cart with four dwarves, none of them wearing armor, that spent their little free time playing cards for nobles.  He said little, and declined their offer to game...but he did watch enthusiasticly, studying strategy and techniques.

Slag too was in a cramped cart with other dwarves, they spent half their time drinking, half sleeping and a bit of the other time doing chores fixing up some of the product for sale. Again they stopped half a dozen times to quickly get their stock out...weapons, that's all the citizens of this fine island seemed to buy. They were high quality stuff hidden underneath the carts, not exactly illegal but certainly frowned upon.

Near the end of the day, the carts slowed down, but unlike the other times, did not stop, as it crawled past a death post. a gruesome scene as a a dozen lizardith in various stages of decomposure. Members of the military unit posed, besides claimed kills, some even cutting off pieces of scale to claim as trophies. The dwarves scowled disapproval very low, this was crass and looked down upon in their culture, but they knew not to show their feelings too openly. They were waved on, then continued for another hour before making camp.

A tall stony fissure loomed on the horizon, maybe an hour away from camp...a spyglass was shared among the dwarves to get a better look at it.

"Your day duties are completed." Crajin, Second Hand spoke, "Did either of you want to do anything tonight?"

Slag had seen the man and his furtive motions and gestures but saw no reason to meet up with him that night and was carried into the day without issue or comment. He mostly just observed, words were something he saved for important circumstances, wasted very seldom. He learned little from conversation but spent much of his time in silent contemplation, his mind always running as the day dragged on, when the night finally closed in he saw no reason to change his usual routine and would spent it as he always had , in sketches and quiet and finally in reverie. ?

Valimare awoke on what appeared to be a gurney by the shore. The drinking part he remembered, up to a point it would seem, but the rest was a rather large question mark.  Didn't matter much anyway, he would carry on and do what he did until orders arrived anyway. It wasn't normal for Valimare to black out from drinking, but it did appear fortuitous to have passed out on shore at the far end of town this particular day. He checked his blades and proceeded to look around.?

Response 9

Had it been five days of cards and drink and other  unmentionable things that he was on that damned cutter? Valimare  was aboard another ship, when they docked with the Galjain one, and he and his counter-part was invited aboard for drinks...and now he was here, in Zern, apparently signed up to do a damned cave dive. The bloody Arjaxs sold his contract to a bunch of Galjaic dwarves. Some dwarf was screaming at him to get into another cart, this one slowly heading away, he climbed aboard to see six dwarves, no armor on
sitting have a sip and a game of cards, smiling, he soon joined them.

He half stumbled out of the dwarven cart he was in at the end of a couple of days, the ale was wet enough at least, and he stayed afloat in coins .Their drinks were cheap, and he made some friends on the two day trip... they were headed to some dead fissure, where scaled beasts had been seen. A lizardith encampment perhaps...they could find some coin or jewelry, they could all be lined up for years. He felt a scratch on his arms, he looked to see a tattoo; by the Abyss he was bonded, he couldn't slip away and find another "job"!

Mostly dwarves here, but a sorceror and a walking golem. Bashint, one of his card buddies, came up to Valimare and slipped him some advice, don't sign up for the first wave. Valimare nodded agreement.

In the morning, First Hammer shouted out, "Dwarves, arm yourself into three waves. We enter the lower caves. Each group will enter a different cave - explore, come out with info. Only engage if it's a foe!"

Valimare, Orin and Slag, along with three dwarves in heavy armour and maces as their primary weapons and an old human female wearing vestments of Quanna, Goddess of Light (LG), she introduces herself as Nara D'Olinna.  "Greetings. I am a healer but prefer to eliminate the threats before they engage. My only request is no inter-party non-sense. If you are a detriment, I will not heal you." Just like every other priest you've seen, she wears a holy symbol necklace, except hers is one to Casna, (LN) god of justice.

Unnare D'Fastano, the lead dwarf also makes take orders from him, don't run from battle or refuse an order, those are his only instructions to you.

Questions or heading to the volcano?

Valimare nods and smiles, his scarred face forming a slightly comical scene.  He knows better than to question an order, although he studies the Dwarf, wondering what sort of leader he has dealt.  He looks around and wonders if this is the same Golem Bashint said had been "molested", but says nothing wodering what kind of humour golems have instead.  Well met all!  he says, and turns for the volcano.

Slag would simply nod his eyes flickering among those assembled, the rules of the mission seemed little more than common sense to him and would have not needed to be said were it not for the others who were going. He shifted slowly, readied whatever ranged weapon he had been built with and prepared for the descent. 

Response 10

The dwarves organized themslves into a square unit, aproximately twenty feet apart, all carrying their heavy crossbows. They moved into the jungle forest without saying a single word to the rest of their crew, moved bruskly, methodically trying to find a trail and scan for anything dangerous ahead.

Slag was impressed, those metallic bows had punch. His arms cranks held two arrows each, capable of firing one shot a round and then a woefully slow reload time. He was a young machine and his creator was no longer active, there would come a time for an upgrade, or, if he could find someone that could make upgrades to his unit frame. The trees were plentiful, but much smaller, less than forty feet high. The foilage was heavy, broad green and purple leaves near the lowest sections of the tree. Only reddish snakes that clung to the tree trunks and colourful avians could be seen at their pace.

The sorceror Orin could move faster than the dwarves, but decided to stay in the rear. He felt a magical connection here, much stronger than he thought possible outside of a city or Spell Tower. If he casted slowly, he believed it would be possible not to lose the mana, the spell energy that powered his spells. He had heard of this happening in heavily concentrated places of mana but never in the Wild. He wanted to follow his innate impulse and run to the library to research the place but he knew that he had to act on impulse alone, and hope that would be enough.

Valimare was impressed by the formation of the dwarves, unless they spoke without using words, they seemed to understand and obey their leader each other by instinct...not always a good thing. He glanced over to see the human cleric a few feet away from him, she floated instead of walked,  and wore armor unlike last night, and she had that glowing smile on her face. The fighter seemed to stop at the same time as the dwarves, a trail. The dwarves immediately changed positions, and motioned for the cleric to come forward, she did and then nodded at them.

Two dwarves continued going forward, another trailed the entire group. Unnare asked for the spellcaster to raise him up so he could have a look. Orin sighed heavily, closed his eyes and began to wave his arms very slowly, whispering arcanish words, a yellowish magical energy seeped from his hands, falling down to the ground then slowly dripped up...the dwarfs eyes bulged and then he was lifted up as the dust fell upward. The energy dissipatated before it reached the ground, but it surrounded the dwarf as he slowly rose. Orin smiled and then showing a confidence not there before opened his eyes,  never stopping waving his arms or keeping his chant alive. "Aye! On the way, the trail will lead us there!"

After returning to the ground the dwarf leader says to the rest of the group, "Some of you are faster than us Stone-Brothers. Better to stay together, but did you want to go ahead of the group or stay behind?"

Monday, 14 October 2013

New Setting Overview - Sea of Stones

Sea of Stones

You are all near the low rung of human society. Nobles buy magical education for a valued guild position: they make sure nobody revolts with their network of spies, magic and their pets - green tyrants, generally known as Dragons to everyone else. 

It's a hot, jungle environment, think of the Greek Isles as the epitome of civilization, at least to the aristocracy that rules. To the south is huge dangerous desert, to the north, the Never-Ending Winter rages.

Humans are top of the heap, and they keep other races as around as long as they don't have magical powers, and at the elite position are the Tharons who fight more among each other then any one else. 

Minotaurs are the brute body-guards, dwarves are the technical ones guarding and maintaining specific sites or duties, tenderfeet (or halflings) are house-slaves, ratlings are sewer city folk that are barely tolerated. 

Elves and the fey are the most hated enemy because they are paragons of purity, goodness and have discovered secrets that still elude the Tharons. Lizard-men, usually called Lizardith can be either very intelligent with huge cities, that are as complex as any other culture or horribly savage. 

Cities are a hotbed of intrigue, as all the groups and many hidden ones fight for intrigue or favor. The Wild is a place of danger, as dungeons hide secrets better left unfound, but there is always the hope of discovering something to help tip the balance...this is where we begin.

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I am re-using one of my oldest settings for my updated group. The last on-site group had to bow out because of changes, but many have opted for this online game. We post almost everyday, but we are still getting the bugs out of the system.