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Rise of the Runelords

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"Unusual? Friend, you don't know the half of it. Name's Daton. If the Hagfish has good seating I'll gladly join in, and hopefully they serve something other than ale."

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"Well, there's something else ta drink ta be sure, but I'd advise staying away from the tank water, unless of course yer looking ta make a name fer yerself."

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Drake walks up to the three of them.  "Wow.  You must all be heroes of some renown to perform that well.  I wish to one day grow to be a hero as grand as the three of you. Alas, I am no warrior but I hope to one day grow into that role. "

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Grimm looks a bit uncomfortable with the praise. "Hero? Not sure winning a dagger toss is the mark of a hero. Still, it's good to have hopes and aspirations. Name's Grimm, these other fellas are Nicholai and Daton. And what's yer name youngblood?"

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"My name is Drake.  I come from a small hamlet where such skills are the marks of great warriors and heroes. It is still impressive to meet such champions.  Even if it is just for throwing a dagger."

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"Whadya mean closed for the festivities?!"


Tical threw his arms up in frustration as he read the sign of the library. He arrived in Sandpoint from Korvosa less than a week ago, hopping to finally get a chance to study some of the old texts. Magnimar would've been his first choice, but he was well aware that access to best documents was difficult because of all other magic researchers with better contacts. No way was Tical to waste his time there. But Sandpoint also had an interesting archive, and wasn't as crowded, so he figured he had a better chance.


He felt a familiar, heavy, comforting hand on his shoulder. "There, there." said the voice in slow simple tone. Tical looked over his shoulder at the concerned look of his companion as he put his hand on the long curved claws weighing on his shoulder. The orange colored, simian bodied creature looked silly with his Varisian head scarf, but insisted on wearing it.  "Thanks Reegol. I know, I know, the place ain't going nowhere. But we finally found something important yesterday, and now we gotta wait some more. Didn't think this Swallowtail thing would be such a big deal".


"Have fun?" Reegol pleaded with Tical. Both were now conscious of the crowd noise and sound of music played outside.


"Might as well." said Tical. The town wasn't as back watered as he originally thought on arrival. The Tien guy from the glassworks obviously had good taste, and one of the manors looked like those from home, so it wasn't completely full of rubes. But he dreaded what sort of hicks from the countryside would come for the festival. People were already gawking at Reegol each time they went out, but Reegol loved the attention. Reegol would walk with his head high, with his traditional Varisian silk headscarf on his head, he'd mutter to himself "Am handsome boy" and imagined he blended with the crowd.


Seeing the activities, Reegol pressured Tical to try the crossbow contest. "Like hunting home!" Reegol said. Tical growled to himself. "Alright, alright buddy. I'll give it try."


Roll (+2 DEX): 6, 6, 17.


"Bah, just ain't the same without my own crossbow." He was mildly satisfied that he got the hang of it by the last shot. By then, he also realized people were more attentive to Reegol, giving a wide berth to the strange creature hopping in place yelling "YOU GOOD!". Children were curiously looking at it from behind their parents, finding him unusually entertaining.



P.S. To get an idea of Reegol's appearance, imagine an orangutan, about dwarfish in size, with the arms and claws of a sloth. Meaning long obvious claws, but mostly folded over inwards. His manner of speech is Scooby-Doo like. Anyone seeing Reegol and Tical side by side instantly recognize the common rune they carry on their foreheads.

Edited by Cranky Dog
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Tical warms up through the rounds of crossbow competition.

He makes it through three rounds of competition.  Most of the shooters seemed intimidated by Reegol.

Tical squares off against Clint Callahan, a member of the town guard.  He seems to know his way around a crossbow, and more importantly, isn't intimidated by Reegol.


Phase I

Tical: 6

Clint: 15+1=16

Phase II

Tical: 6

Clint:  20+1=21, follow up 15+1=16

Phase III

Tical: 17

Clint: 1+1=2 (fumble)


After three rounds of shooting, Clint comes out on top, despite a broken string on the final shot.

The game owner presented him with a crossbow quarrel that looked like it was made of some sort of bone, carved with pictures of rats, spiders, and other vermin.

He puts it into his quiver, and gives you a slight nod seeming to mean "better luck next time, kid."


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At noon, Father Zantus and his acolytes wheel a large covered wagon into the town square.  He recounts a short parable about how Desna first fell to earth and was nursed back to health by a blind child whom she transformed into an immortal butterfly as a reward for her aid.   Then, the acolytes pull back the cover and release thousands of Children of Desna, a furious swarm of Swallowtail Butterflies.  Children race around the square trying futilely to capture butterflies.  The crowd erupts into a loud round of applause and cheers as the butterflies spiral up into the air in a furious swirl of colors.


Father Zantus then says a brief blessing over the prepared food and invites everyone to go eat.


The inns and taverns are closed for the mid day, instead serving food in the town square for free, picnic style.  As the meal wears on, it becomes apparent that Ameiko Kaijitsu is once again the darling of the lunch.  This year, her remarkable curry-spiced salmon and early Winterdrop Mead steal the show, beating out the contenders such as the Lobster Chowder from the Hagfish, and the peppercorn venison from the White Deer.


You ended up sitting at a table near the stage.  Your meals have been taken away, more mead and ale presented, and you are enjoying the late afternoon.  Various important friendly figures from Sandpoint have come by congratulating you for your various victories.  Some of them ask a few innocent questions before moving on to meet-and-greet others in the crowd.  The five (+1) of you all get a chance to talk to each other for a bit to share your stories and what brings you to Sandpoint.  Around 5 o'clock, father Zantus climbs up on the stage, takes the podium.  He tosses a thunderstone down...


A sharp retort, like the crack of distant thunder, booms through the excited crowd as the sun's setting rays paint the western sky.  A stray dog that has crawled under a nearby wagon to sleep starts awake, and the buzz of two-dozen conversations quickly hushes as all heads turn toward the central podium, where a beaming Father Zantus has taken the stage.  He clears his throat, takes a breath to speak, and suddenly a woman's scream slices through the air.  A few moments later, another scream rises, then another!  Beyond them, a sudden surge of strange new voices rises-high pitched, tittering shrieks that sound not quite human.  The crowd parts and something low to the ground races by, giggling with disturbing glee as the stray dog gives a pained yelp and then collapses with a gurgle, its throat cut open from ear to ear.  As blood pools around its head, the raucous sound of a strange song begins, chanted from shrill scratchy voices.


Goblins chew and goblins bite.

Goblins cut and goblins fight.

Stab the dog and cut the horse,

goblins eat and take by force.


Goblins race and goblins jump.

Goblins slash and goblins bump.

Burn the skin and mash the head,

Goblins here and you be dead!


Chase the baby, catch the pup.

Bonk the head to shut it up.

Bones be cracked, flesh be stewed.

We be Goblins, you be FOOD!


You can all give me a Perception Check.

Then roll initiative.



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[Just before the goblin action]


5 hours ago, Darcstaar said:

Tical warms up through the rounds of crossbow competition.

He makes it through three rounds of competition.  Most of the shooters seemed intimidated by Reegol.

Tical squares off against Clint Callahan, a member of the town guard.  He seems to know his way around a crossbow, and more importantly, isn't intimidated by Reegol.


After three rounds of shooting, Clint comes out on top, despite a broken string on the final shot.

The game owner presented him with a crossbow quarrel that looked like it was made of some sort of bone, carved with pictures of rats, spiders, and other vermin.

He puts it into his quiver, and gives you a slight nod seeming to mean "better luck next time, kid."


Reegol hoots in delight at the last shot between the contestants. "Tickle win! Tickle win! Tickle win!" as he happily hops around.


"I didn't win Reeg!" Tical retorts. Reegol froze in place, looking confused as his gaze goes towards the target with Tical's quarrel and his rival's broken string. "Huh? No win?" Reegol's face drooped.


"All three shots count buddy. He got two good ones, I only got one, so he wins." Tical begrudgingly shakes the winner's hand. "Yeah, thanks. I'm sure you'd gotten that shot if it weren't for the string."


5 hours ago, Darcstaar said:

Now for the goblin stuff.


Perception (+2): 12

Initiative (+2): 10



Perception (+4): 7

Initiative (+1): 15

Edited by Cranky Dog

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Here is the map.

Goblins are marked 1,2,3 above their heads.

Your table is to the lower right.








The bad news is: I rolled a 20 for their initiative, + 6 = 26.

The good news is, I wasted a 20 on their initiative!


The perception rolls:  Anyone 12 or greater realized that the shape moving low through the crowd was a goblin, before it attacked the dog.


Initiative order:
26  Goblins

18  Nicholai

15+ Daton

15- Reegol

14  Drake

10  Tical

7  Grimm

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