AA's Kingmaker Part I: The Stolen Lands

[Winterfell]

Viktor continues to frown as Jhod speaks. When the cleric of Erastil finishes, he sighs. "We cannot fault you for misinterpreting your dream," he says, voice only slightly more gentle than before. "What do you intend to do with this temple? Restore it to the worship of Erastil? Such a venture is fraught with perils, for the wilds south of here still remain untamed."

"You have done well," the paladin says, but he continues to stare suspiciously at Vasily. "Continue on this law-abiding path and you may yet prove your repentance." Or perhaps simply manipulate us all to win your freedom.

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Detect Evil on Vasily Derorn. Also didn't Estanos give the ring to Svetlana? I think you forgot to respond to that, AA.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Svetlana receives the ring from Estanos with an eager smile. But her face falls as she looks it over. "Oh..." she says. "I'm afraid this one isn't mine. I hope it wasn't any trouble for you to get it, considering." She looks away awkwardly. "It is lovely though," she adds lamely.

"Aye," Vasily replies to Ilya. "An' once you change out of them fancy clothes, you might just make a decent human being." Being charming is not on the bandit's list of priorities. "And I wish I knew where the knife came from. But you know, you never did search us well after you caught us, he could have hidden it them, the cunning bugger." To Viktor, Vasily simply smirks. "Yes sir paladin sir, repentance is all I think about these days, every waking bloody minute."

Viktor

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He's still registering as evil.

Merrin nods to Estanos. "Of course, sir. I'll tell 'em all... But, err, I've got a question, father..." The boy stares down at his feet, chewing his lip in thought. "Well I guess what I want to ask is why... uh... well I don't rightly understand everything that happened at that old temple, but I don't think it's right to do something like what that old priest got. And... er, I was hoping that Sarenrae doesn't disagree with me, father Estanos sir..."

[Blisstake]

"Well, I'm convinced," says Tireas, quite unconvincingly. He seats himself down on a nearby table and pulls out the group's maps. "We can either go through every single region, starting with the northwest, or head straight for the kobolds to deal with them all the sooner. There appears to be an award for sorting that mess out, so maybe we should make that a priority? What do you think Zinovia? Planning seems to be more your specialty than mine."

[Leviathan]

"Yes, yes, we're all very pleased for you, bandit..." Zinovia says brusquely, shaking her head contemptuously. "We can't all be heroes."

Zinovia sighs at Tireas' question; she had intended to bury herself in her spellbooks, until this interruption. "I care little for such trivialities," she says. "In the end, we must explore all of it, so it seems the order will matter little. But if we wish to do it quickly, I would suggest that we not head straight for the kobolds' lair, if only so we do not have to backtrack."

[Oh My God]

" She does not disagree with you, Marrin. In fact, she is pleased that you ask the question in the first place. Too often we accept the decisions of those with power, and mistake it for righteousness. To walk a worthy path ourselves, we must examine the world around us and seek what is right, always."

Gesturing up at the orb of fire that blazes with such perfect clarity, Estanos finishes with," Even in her anger, Sarenrae is merciful. That leaves aside entirely the danger to -everyone else- that creating such a monstrous bears leaves behind. The Eternal Dawn cares too much for each and every one of us to generate such a hazard."

[RocketMan]

Ilya laughs at Derorn's comment. "See, I was just thinking the exact opposite about you - your bandit rags do nothing for what otherwise might be the noble visage of a good man." The prince smirks, clearly thinking he has got the upper hand. "And perhaps a bath wouldn't be amiss either; your crimes may well be discernible from your rather pungent smell. Someone might mistake it for sulphur, rather than the wafting malodorousness of your body, which would probably give away your wickedness," he says, with mock seriousness, concluding with an ironic wince of sympathy. Then he giggles again.

"On the otherhand, I am marked as an upstanding citizen by my cleanliness and well-mannered conversational abilities. You should give it a try, Derorn."

[ApatheticAbacus]

The remainder of your stay at Oleg's passes uneventfully. Svetlana serves you a hearty traveller's dinner of pork pies and beat stew on the long tables in the courtyard, while a fire crackles in the firepit. Jhod tells a quiet parable that has nearly everyone listening closely, and Kesten Garess recounts the tale of his first skirmish two years ago. By the end of the evening, as, one by one, the Post's inhabitant's retire, even shy Merrin has come out of his shell a little.

21-24 Gozran, 4708

In the morning, Estanos recites his prayers with a few early risers: Svetlana, a couple of guards, and Merrin. And then you are off, back into the wilds.

Kesten gives you a warning as you pass him at the gates. "Good luck out there. Don't let your guard down. We've beaten the bandits so far, but this Stag Lord won't give up his hold on the Greenbelt easily."

You spend the next hours and days traversing plains that have begun to become familiar, their brown and gold grasses and glacier-shaped rocks no longer unusual. The very last patches of snow are gone from the ground, both on the grasslands and in the forest, the northernmost reaches of which you pass through on your second day.

On the fourth, you come to the edge of your Charter. Far to the west, little more than a grey-green carpet veined with dark rivers, you can see the vast bog known as the Hooktongue Slough. As you turn your horses northward, with the day drawing into evening, the sunset a vibrant orange, you spot something on the crest of a hill.

It is a ring of ancient stones, each taller than a man. Riding closer, you see that they are engraved with faded, worn depictions of bare-chested warriors, swords and spears held high, with shields on guard. In the centre of them sits a hewn rock sarcophagus, its heavy lid firmly in place. Moss has grown up all around the edifice, turning grey stones to a deep green colour.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia's eyes glint up at the strange circle of rocks with undisguised, feverish lust, her gaunt, callow cheeks flush with a sickly sort of energy. Finally, she thinks to herself, I have found something that may hold some value to me, some knowledge...

Without waiting for anyone, she gives her horse a rather vicious prod with her staff to get it moving towards the stones. Once she arrives, she wastes no time in inspecting them.

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Throwing some skill checks up:

Knowledge (arcana): (1d20+10)[27]
Spellcraft: (1d20+10)[16]
Perception: (1d20+1)[5]
Linguistics: (1d20+10)[22]

[RocketMan]

Ilya approaches the strange stones idly, seemingly disinterested. "Well, here we have the works of some truly industrious savages, who laboured ever so hard to make these rocks stand just so," he says sarcastically. "Had I the misfortune to find myself in a similar situation, I should I hope I might find more productive activities, but..." he sighs, "men will be men, preoccupied with making their stones stand erect in all ages." He giggles, before peering at the ancient ritual site more closely.

"Hmm, I wonder if there is any magic here? On this fine gentleman's sarcophagus, perhaps?"

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Detect Magic on the sarcophagus and the stones.

Also rolling any applicable skills:
Knowledge: Architecture: (1d20+6)[10]
Knowledge: Geography: (1d20+6)[17]
Knowledge: History: (1d20+6)[21]
Knowledge: Nobility: (1d20+6)[23]
Knowledge: Anything Else: (1d20+2)[3]

Perception: (1d20+3)[8]
Spellcraft: (1d20+6)[25]

[Oh My God]

The foreign cleric doesn't dismount and advance on the stones with the others. Perhaps his dislike of the ruins stems from the same cultured derision that Ilya evinces, but it is more likely that in these stones he finds echoes of Erastil's shrine. Echoes which remind him of the fate of the fallen priest. Estanos shivers.

Regardless of the reason, Estanos hangs back from the ruins, remaining astride his horse. He chats quietly with Marrin, speaking about nothing particularly important or pressing.

[Blisstake]

"Maybe you should try looking inside of it." Tireas suggests dryly. "I don't know who would try to keep something hidden outside of a... sar-coffin-gus? Sarcophagus?"

[ApatheticAbacus]

There's definitely something magical inside of the ancient stone sarcophagus, Ilya reports.

Up close, it is apparent that the pictograms carved into the standing stones form some sort of message. Zinovia is able to conclude that it illustrates the life of an ancient warrior, likely the person entombed in the central sarcophagus.

Ilya

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Based on Zinovia's information, you believe this to the be tomb of a Tiger Lord, one of the aristocrats of the fierce barbarian tribes who still hold sway in along the Eastern Sellen River.

[Winterfell]

"Ha!" Viktor laughs loudly at Ilya's joke, his voice booming and echoing off the stones, before he catches himself. Cutting his laugh short, he looks sheepish and defiant at the same time, glancing at Estanos as if expecting a priestly rebuke. [COLOR]="DarkOrange"]Damn Ilya, that's not a decent way for a servant of Abadar to behave, to go around laughing at every childish jest. I can't help it though,[/COLOR] the paladin thinks affectionately.

"Yes," Viktor agrees quickly with Tireas, eager to resume his ordinary steely demeanor. "Let's get this opened." The man strides over to the coffin and pushes the stone lid off, muscles heaving and plate clanking with effort.

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If there's a strength check necessary, here goes: (1d20+4)[11]

[Leviathan]

Even if Estanos does not, Zinovia glares daggers at Viktor, likely because the paladin isn't using his physical prowess to remove the impediment to whatever lies under the sarcophagus. She watches imperiously, leaning heavily on her staff, her pale eyes on Viktor as he pushes.

[Oh My God]

Distracted with his conversation with Marrin, it isn't until the burly Paladin is applying his shoulder to the stone lid that he notices anything untoward is occurring. By then, all he can do is call out a futile," Wait! "

He's off his horse and hurrying towards the others," I.. have no words, Viktor. What on earth do you think you're doing? ," asks Estanos, utterly aghast.

[Blisstake]

"I would think it's rather obvious," Tireas answers. "We're explorers; if we see a cave, we go spelunking, if we find a building, we go investigating, and if we find a sarcophagus, we open it."

[Oh My God]

Estanos is just a -touch- snappish as he retorts to Tireas," Explorers venture in to caves. -Grave robbers- pry open sarcophagi. There is ever so slight a difference."

[Leviathan]

Zinovia is hungry for the contents of the sarcophagi. She can practically taste some magical secret. Then the priest interjects. She turns her cold eyes on him. "You had no compunction about taking the valuables from the bandits we have slain. And yet now you object. This is a barbarian tomb; you've seen how the ancient men of this land treated each other at the temple of Erastil. Reconsecrate it if you must; I'm sure he will sleep all the more soundly with a kindly goddess watching over him."

[Blisstake]

"If there's something of value in there, I think it would be put to better use in our hands than any bandits who might happen to come across this way," the tiefling responds. "But if you insist, we can put it to a vote, yes?"

[ApatheticAbacus]

Before Estanos can raise his objection, Viktor has pushed the lid off the old sarcophagus with the heavy noise of rough stone grinding together.

The inside is illuminated by the setting sun, casting in fiery orange light the skeleton within. It is obviously that of a large human, laid out with hands across its chest. The empty sockets of its skull seem to bore into you disapprovingly, as if asking why its rest has been disturbed.

The skeleton was clearly given a warrior's burial: the tattered remains of the pelt of a white tiger has been draped over its shoulders, and its phalanges are wrapped around the hilt of a finely crafted, long-handled sword. Around one of the finger bones, there's a golden ring encrusted with an opal.

[Oh My God]

" Of course 'now I object', Zinovia, for now is when we are erring. The two situations you describe are as entirely different in detail as they are superficially similar in circumstance. Seizing the possessions of lawless criminals who have tried to kill us themselves is simply an execution of justice. That their ill-gotten gains allow us to further prosecute the task of hunting their brethren is poetic. Whereas taking the possessions of -this- man," Estanos jabs an accusatory finger down at the revealed skeletal remains," is as wrong as any other theft. He has done us, nor anyone else so far as we can know, any harm."

He sighs and rubs at one of his temples with a thumb. " I shall have to reconsecrate it now in any event, but to attempt to justify such craven behavior with motives more holy is twice the sin. To fall to avarice is one of the surest paths to outright villainy. That we do not simply snatch up whatever we fancy to take into our hands is rather what separates us from the bandits we purport to hunt."

[Blisstake]

"I'm guessing you're voting 'no' then." Tireas comments. The tiefling then looks at the newly revealed skeleton, examining, but making sure not to touch, the ring. "Is it magical?"

[Winterfell]

Viktor heaves the lid of the coffin off, letting it crash into the earth with a satisfying thud, before standing up, chest heaving. He scowls as Estanos rebukes him. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glances at the skeletal figure in the coffin.

"He's dead," the paladin says gruffly, jabbing a gauntleted finger in the direction of the ancient warrior. "If I must disturb the tomb of a dead man to help keep the living safe, I will. That is my priority, and it should be yours as well." The man turns back to look at the skeleton.

"This sword, and this ring, are they magical?" he asks Zinovia.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia waves a gloved hand over the ring and sword, muttering a few words of a simple incantation. "We shall find out soon enough," she says.

"And Estanos," Zinovia says, her tone frustrated, though she has notably deigned to use the priest's name, rather than calling him by his occupation; "if you will not accept Viktor's reason, consider what will happen if someone with less compunction than us comes across this place. Then it shall be looted, more likely than not, and whatever good these items may do will be lost. Indeed, such a person is likely to be a bandit. I should not like to see this blade turned against you or I, or Oleg or Svetlana." She lets out a soft, rattling chuckle. "That insufferable Jhod on the other hand... But you take the point, Estanos?"

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Using Detect Magic.

I forgot to roll spellcraft for identification purposes, so it'll be OOC.

[Oh My God]

Estanos looks over at Marrin as the sorceress speaks at him. He's clearly thinking something that he doesn't say, swallowing his words with an effort. When he looks back to Zinovia, what he -does- say is," I don't know that I will be buying the argument that whenever we come across something that -might- be stolen by someone else that we steal it -first-. Are you planning on swinging by the hut of that old alchemist and doing a bit of preventative looting? "

Looking over at Viktor, Estanos continues to ask questions that he feels need answering," And what possible 'need' is there to fill here? What possible urgency compels you to disentomb this poor man? Is grave robbing a routine contingency preparation in the service of the Lord of Vaults? Or do you too hold to the idea that we should be preemptively looting the world?" Estanos raises an eyebrow. " Did you even offer a prayer of apology before you violated this man's tomb, or did you just set your shoulder against the lid of his sarcophagus and shove as though it were merely the balky front door of your favorite tavern back home in Brevoy? "

Estanos heaves a massive sigh. " I just don't know sometimes. I honestly don't," and with that, he turns his back on them and returns to his horse, his shoulders hunched.

[RocketMan]

"Let's all take a deep breath," Ilya says soothingly, stepping between Estanos and Viktor. "Oh right," Ilya says, feigning a revelation. "We can take a breath because we're all alive. That good chap isn't. I'd like to keep breathing. And for my part - I won't speak for you Estanos - the Stag Lord is a quite compelling urgency. It's true, we may not need this ring or that blade to defeat him, but, unfortunately, we won't know for sure until we've had a go at him." The prince pauses for a moment. "I don't want to be the one saying 'whoops, I suppose we did need that magical ring to defeat the Stag Lord, so sorry' to any of your corpses!" he finishes with a dramatic flourish.

"If they turn out to be less than valuable to our cause once dearest Zinovia has identified them, I suggest we return them to the barbarian king's tomb. That, at least, seems reasonable enough."

[ApatheticAbacus]

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The ring is magical. It appears to be a ring of protection +1. The sword is not. It's a masterwork bastard sword.

Also, for that RP (which I quite enjoyed reading), I'm giving 100 bonus EXP.

Estanos' objection is noted, though the party decided to take the items. The skeleton's grip on the sword's hilt is surprisingly strong, as though even in death the ancient warrior is proud and vigilant. The ring slips off the finger bone on which it rests.

25 Gozran, 4708

The days are beginning to grow longer with the onset of spring. The next day carries you back towards the Post along Restov's southern border. Off to the north, far in the distance, you spot the occasional faint form of a watchtower or hamlet nestled in the hills.

The day creeps on, the sun rising high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the land, and then setting. As it falls into a bank of white clouds, evening fast approaching, heralded by the hoots of snowy owls seeking for field mice, you come upon what seems to be a camp of sorts.

It sits high on one of the Kamelands' ridges, almost precariously close to the edge. There are a half-dozen tents, laid out in neat rows around a central firepit. Around the camp, you can see a few swords, spears, and shields lying around. It appears to be completely devoid of life.

One edge of the camp is guarded by the natural cliff-face; it's a long way down, and, you reckon, equally difficult to ascend. The direction of your approach is covered by a few logs that have been driven into the ground to form a barricade of spikes. A pair of banners flutter, hung on spears. One is the two-headed red dragon of Brevoy. The other is the grey ship on deep blue water and black sky of House Surtova.

[Winterfell]

Abadar, guide me.

Viktor's heart sinks as he sees the banner of House Surtova flapping in the dusky night air. A low hoot followed by a quiet beating of wings is the only sound. The silence seems unnatural. The paladin takes a tentative step forwards, his boot seeming to crunch the earth as if he had stomped with all his might. He unsheathes his sword, which emerges, glinting in the near-darkness, with a metallic swishing noise.

"Get behind me, now," the man hisses to his companions, his deep voice low and urgent. His grey eyes bore into Ilya's, beseeching the other man to listen. "They won't take you from me," he growls, almost imperceptibly, to the prince.

"We need to leave here, as fast as we can. But they must think us bandits, that is imperative," he whispers to the party. "We need to quickly seize anything from the camp that might look valuable, - weapons, coin, anything - set fire to the tents, and leave, quickly." His voice sounds desperate, and he looks frantically from Zinovia to Estanos to Tireas, hoping for support.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia's eyes glimmer underneath her hood in the evening's last light. "Why," she rasps coldly, "is it imperative that we ransack the camp of our patron? You are a fool, Viktor, but even you would not abandon all sense." She stands stalk-still, her figure unmoving, slightly hunched, her deep red robes blowing. When her voice comes next, after a long, disconcerting pause, it is soft and icy, as though she wishes to bore into the paladin's soul: "What are you hiding?"

[Blisstake]

"Trespassing, theft, and arson? When did you become so fun, Viktor?" Tireas laughs at the apparent change of personality, and then shakes his head. "I'm not much of a fan of the Surtovas either, but I feel little need to raid their camp. It likely holds little valuables other than standard weapons, since they are willing to leave it behind, and there's no point in risking getting on their bad side."