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Darcstaar

Rise of the Runelords

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Bow: D20; (11, 13, 15) +4= 15, 17, 19 (add +1 if target is within 30ft for Point Blank Shot)

 

Dagger d20; (11, 19, 8) +4= 15, 23, 12  (roll to confirm if needed: 6+4=10)

 

While Nicholai does send a short prayer to Elastril that his shots fly true, he does not use magic to assist his shots.  It just wouldn't be sporting.

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Daton competes in three heats of swordplay successfully gaining a spot in the final.

 

He pairs off with Willem the Younger, an aspiring sergeant of the city guard.

 

Opposed Attack Rolls

Phase I - Daton 14+4=18

                Willem 5+2=7

Phase II - Daton 2+4=6

                 Willem  16+2=18

Phase III - Daton 16+4=20

                 Willem 6+2=8

 

Willem has great instincts, but in the end he was just overpowered by the strength of Daton's assaults!

 

Daton wins the championship of the sword sparring!  You get a bronze medal on a blue ribbon to put around your neck, of a stylized shield and sword.

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Grimm can hardly contain his excitement at the axe range.  After three heats of three axes each, he reaches the final round, squaring off against Magnus, a hulking Ulfen nearly twice as tall as Grimm!

 

Phase I Grimm 16

        Magnus - 9+3=12

Phase II Grimm 22

        Magnus 12+3=15

Phase III. Grimm 15

        Magnus 5+3=8

 

Grimm sweeps the championship round against Magnus, who takes it in stride, claps Grimm firmly on his shoulder, and buys him a stout ale.  It's good.  For winning, Grimm gets a silver cloak pin shaped like a Shoanti Tomahawk.

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After a small rest and bit of food and ale, Daton steps up to the mallet whack.

 

He lines up the hit perfectly, breaking the lever, sending the slug up to the bell, bending the bell, shooting the bell off, with the slug out of the rail, and breaking the ogre's head off backward in the process.  People have to quickly dodge out of the way as the broken plywood clumsily falls to the ground.  The crowd spends a moment in stunned disbelief before erupting in a cacophony of cheers and applause.  Several onlookers hoist Daton up onto their shoulders, carrying him around the market square in a victory lap, telling the ignorant spectators of his deed.  The owner of the game, Aeric, doesn't have a trophy worthy of it, so he just gives Daton the mallet and ogre head with a smile.  Daton gets his mug refilled several times by various witnesses.

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As Nicholai makes his way to the archery range, he has to pause as a drunken mob carries on their shoulders some good-looking bespectacled Aasimar wearing a holy symbol of Sarenrae.  You hear one of them boast for him that he knocked the head off an ogre.

 

Nicholai says a silent prayer to Erastil to protect those men from their hangovers tomorrow, then draws his bow.  He makes it through three rounds of archery.  The owner, Katt, seeing the priestly holy symbol, whispers to Nicholai "just friendly competition father, no magic please."  Nicholai nods his understanding and assures him he will win fair-and-square.

 

For the final round, he squares off against Meaghan, a young lass with curly brown hair.  She gives Nicholai a respectful curtsy, seeing his holy symbol.

Phase 1 Nicholai 15

  Meaghan 7+2=9

Phase 2 Nicholai 17

  Meaghan 8+2=10

Phase 3 Nicholai 19

  Meaghan 7+2=9

 

Meaghan gives Nicholai a small peck on the cheek, congratulates him, and vanishes into the crowd. Katt applauds Nicholai and gives him a trophy of an arrow made of alchemical silver. (Yes, you now have one silvered arrow).

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The dagger throwing range is quite popular, and attracts all ages of competitors.  The two competitors to really shine through five rounds of matches are Grimm the dwarf and Nicholai the human.

 

The championship match is a back and forth affair with Grimm winning the first heat, Nicholai the second, and Grimm winning the tie-breaker!  

Grimm 24, 21, 16

Nicholai 15, 23, 12

 

The owner presents Grim with his prize: A masterwork dagger whose steel is Damascus pattern welded with alchemical silver in a ladder pattern.  The handle scales are of narwhal tusk ivory from the Crown of the World.  They have been masterfully etched with scrimshaw pictures.  One side shows a wolf in a forest on a rocky outcropping baying at the moon.  The other shows a botany-Guide diagram of the Wolfsbane plant with tips for finding and identifying the herb.

 

Great job everyone in your respective competitions.

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"Well struck yerself" replies Grimm with a repectful nod. "Grimm Hammerhand at yours. Yer not one of the locals, unless I've just missed ya. In town for the church opening I take it?"

Grimm then spends a few moments inspecting the dagger, admiring the craftsmanship before he gives it a couple of experimental flips in the air. Satisfied, he nods, "A good blade this".

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"Yes, I just arrived this morning.  I serve Erastil, tending to the outlying villages and homesteads, helping out where I can.  I don't remember seeing you here that last time I came to town either.  What brings you  to Sandpoint?  Professional knife thrower?" Nicholia ends with a quip.

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"The Old Deadeye eh? You served him well in the archery competition. As far as why I'm here, well it did involve a thrown knife. I'll just say that the gods, especially the Lucky Drunk have a sense o' humor. I've been here six months now, practicing what's become my hobby with that grumpy fella at the forge, learning a bit about the area, and building up me skills in me new profession".

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"Well then, let us get a drink to celebrate our respective wins.  Though we may have to find an ale seller a little further afield; that crowd around that fellow with the mallet seems to drunk their way through that cask."

 

Nicholai will also keep an eye out for any of his people (Varasians) in case any of them have news of his family.  It has been over a year since he has seen of them due the travels of their troupe.

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"As well as it should be. That was a mighty blow. I'm happy to drink with ya. Normally I'd head over to the White Deer, but ya may have a point about the crowd. Perhaps we should head over to the Hagfish instead?"

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Daton staggers over to the pair in a manner expected from one who's been lifted and carried and shaken about by an unruly crowd and then given far more ale than he would've normally consumed.

 

"You know the downside with some people's generosities is that they're hard to redistribute to the needier."

Losing his balance a slight bit, struggling to hold on to his unusual trophies (Darc does the mallet have any weapon statistics?),

"Could one of you help me find a stable place to sit and try to sober myself?"

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"Heh, well it doesn't generally get more stable than the ground, but we were headed to the Hagfish, ta toast our victories. As a champion yerself yer more than welcome ta join us. My name's Grimm, and like Nicholai here, I've not seen ya before in town. Ye have an unusual look as well as an aura about yerself, I'm sure I would've remembered meeting ya."

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