BananosMoon
Banana lover.
- Location
- Poney banana paradise.
[X] Ghastenhall, City on the Scar
Live in Infamy
- Thread starter Maugan Ra
- Start date
- Fantasy
- Pronouns
- It/Its
[X] Mathryn, City of Light
- Location
- Who knows?
[X] Ghastenhall, City on the Scar
I am very amused by the dear pirate captains gall. Interesting that Thorn did the negotiations himself though
I am very amused by the dear pirate captains gall. Interesting that Thorn did the negotiations himself though
[X] Daveryn, City of Waves
[X] Ghastenhall, City on the Scar
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Ghastenhall, City on the Scar
- Location
- Canada
This conspiracy can't be very well staffed if they're breaking out random prisoners to serve as their elite commandos. (Thorn was probably mainly interested in Lisara, but again, he's sending her into the thick of danger, so he probably doesn't have many other followers.)
- Pronouns
- It/Its
Why was she arrested and sent there again? Seems like it'd be a bit of a scandal to send the founder of the dynasty to super jail
- Location
- London, England
Technically Lisara wasn't the founder of the dynasty. That would be her husband, who is the one who got the title and such out of it. That said yes it would be something of a scandal - the law makes duelling to the death a capital crime, but there were good reasons the staff of Branderscar all expected Lisara would get a pardon.
That he did not issue one should tell you quite a lot what kind of man King Markaddian V is.
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- Location
- Israel
[X] Mathryn, City of Light
The capital city plays home to both the Royal Palace and the Church of Mitra. It is a city defined by its growth and ambition, having swollen from a small town to a thriving city in less than a century. Your family are architects and shipwrights, profiting handsomely from the city's relentless expansion.
More for her family's profession than anything
Also, following the posts above mine, hopefully Lisara got at least one descendant she can connect with, for her mental health if nothing else...
The capital city plays home to both the Royal Palace and the Church of Mitra. It is a city defined by its growth and ambition, having swollen from a small town to a thriving city in less than a century. Your family are architects and shipwrights, profiting handsomely from the city's relentless expansion.
More for her family's profession than anything
Also, following the posts above mine, hopefully Lisara got at least one descendant she can connect with, for her mental health if nothing else...
- Location
- London, England
Whoops, forgot to call the vote even after I started writing. Let's do that now.
Ghastenhall score a comfortable victory, which it takes as only its natural due.
Next update is like 60% written and will be up later today.
Ghastenhall score a comfortable victory, which it takes as only its natural due.
Next update is like 60% written and will be up later today.
XVI - Aboard the Frosthamar
- Location
- London, England
"Ghastenhall," you say with fond nostalgia, "My family is from Goldquarter."
"Bollocks," Trik says without a moment's doubt, shaking his head even as he splits the small deck of cards into two, "Nobody lives in Goldquarter."
You blink, then rear back, offence colouring your tone and breaking through the last of the shock. "Excuse me? I should damn well say I know better than you where my family is from!" Trik just raises his eyebrows at you, while the rest of your party looks awkwardly from one to the other. Then, once the point has been made, you concede. "Just because the house happens to be in Kingspeace…"
"Ha! I knew it!" Trik laughs triumphantly, "Gods, Kingspeace? No wonder you'd claim to live next door, who'd ever want to live there?"
You sniff, turning your face away, but despite it all you find yourself smiling. Kingspeace is perhaps the most boring of all Ghastenhall's many districts, and while you personally might like the peace and quiet, you'd be willing to concede it isn't for everyone. "And you? You'd best be a fellow Ghasten, to be talking about home that way…"
Trik snorts, flipping over the cards and dividing them on the deck between you. You recognise the layout immediately - Blind King's Bluff, a game that somehow never caught on outside your home city. Too many rules, apparently.
"Oh, Trak and I have god's salt in our veins, never you worry," Trik says with a cardsharp's grin, inviting you to claim your cards with a sweep of his hands, "Da was a scarper, back 'afore the salties got him, and we still remember our way around. You've a learned look about you - black or blue?"
You nod, picking up the cards. The Godscar is a freshwater river, the Cambrian Bay salty and connected to the sea, and Ghastenhall built on the rocky hills where the two waters meet. Scarpers fish the former and salties the latter, and while their rivalry usually stays civil, it wouldn't be the first time someone paid with their life for wandering across the dividing line while drunk.
"Black, obviously," you reply with a sniff, vaguely offended that he would even suggest you got your schooling through the church and its charity, "I worked as a bookkeeper, back before… all of this."
Off to your side, Lisara sighs and shakes her head. You think you catch her muttering something about 'fucking ghastlies', but it would be impolite to recognise it, so you don't. If she cannot handle the presence of two citizens from the greatest city in the kingdom, that is her problem, not yours. At least Dorgo and Mikael have the good grace to merely look a trifle baffled by the byplay.
"Makes sense," Trik nods easily, "Everyone knows them up in goldquarter don't much care where something comes from, but they'll tell you to the penny how much it's worth. Say, did you ever…"
The conversation meanders from there, falling into the easy back and forth of two neighbours speaking of home. You talk of your favourite places to eat along the waterfront, the strangest clients you ever worked for, and the most outrageous rumours about the mad old Duke. Trik has a seemingly bottomless store of anecdotes and jests, all delivered with a smile and a flick of the cards, and as you play you find yourself enjoying his company far more than you would have ever expected.
Even here, even among the forsaken, you have found a tiny piece of home.
-/-
Life aboard the Frosthamar is simultaneously peaceful and vaguely uncomfortable. You know nothing of sailing and the crew expect nothing of you, but neither is there much of anything to do. There's no privacy either - you sleep on the deck beneath improvised tents, and when nature calls you are forced to squat awkwardly over the side rail and hope that nobody is watching. You play cards and dice with your fellows, watch the countryside as it rolls steadily by, and try not to go out of your mind with boredom.
The first leg of the journey is entirely uneventful. Half a day's sailing down the Varryn River brings you to the sea, at which point the heavily laden ship turns north and hugs the coast like a drunk clutching his friend's shoulder. You see farms and villages by the dozen, small patches of forest and loose handfuls of fishermen, and whenever you pass the locals wave to you and shout greetings rendered inaudible by wind and distance. Kargeld always waves back, a surprisingly cheerful gesture from the bitter old pirate, and when he catches you looking just grunts and spits over the side.
"Wouldn't want them getting suspicious," he says, and will not be drawn to further conversation.
After a week on the waves you are surprised to wake and see the great port city of Davryn off your port side. The City of Waves is one of the great metropoli of the realm, visited by traders and travellers from all across the world, but despite the grumbling of his sailors Kargeld makes no move to put in at the port. You suppose you can understand that, for with a port city come harbourmasters, and there are no good answers to be had to questions surrounding your cargo of weapons and ammunition, much less the presence of Talireans of no fixed abode aboard a foreign vessel.
A few days later, as you approach the northern border of the kingdom, your fears are proven correct.
"Ah, crap," Dorgo growls one day, rising from his position by the gunwale and staring past the aft of the ship, "Captain!"
Following his gaze tells you what the problem is almost immediately. You've seen plenty of other ships during this voyage, most especially around Davryn and the smaller regional ports, but the vessel following in your wake bears sails of white and blue emblazoned with the crowned sun of Talingarde. Kargeld confirms your impression a moment later, stomping over to the stern and spitting out a poisonous curse in his native tongue.
"Coastal guard," he growls to you as your team gathers, "Taxmen and soldiers. The Frosthamar won't outrun them, not this heavily loaded. They take one look at our cargo…"
You nod, hardly needing him to elaborate. There might not be any specific law on the books about shipping weapons to a hostile army, but at the very least they'll impound the ship and cargo and send word to their superiors in the capital.
"How many aboard?" Elise Zadaria asks in a cool voice, joining you at the stern with her staff firmly in hand. Beyond her, you can see all of your comrades gathering their weapons and working the stiffness out of their limbs, preparing for a fight.
"Ship of that size? A score, maybe," Kargeld grunts, running a calloused hand through his thickly braided beard. He's got a calculating gleam in his eyes now, and you know you're not the only one measuring the odds. Even with your team and the seventh it seems the Talireans outnumber you, but that is not necessarily the end of the matter. After Thorn's training you would certainly lay good money on any of your fellow agents against a mere soldier, but perhaps it does not have to come to that.
Either way, you need to make a decision quickly. The patrol ship is moving quickly, and you doubt you have more than a handful of minutes before it is close enough to board.
"Bollocks," Trik says without a moment's doubt, shaking his head even as he splits the small deck of cards into two, "Nobody lives in Goldquarter."
You blink, then rear back, offence colouring your tone and breaking through the last of the shock. "Excuse me? I should damn well say I know better than you where my family is from!" Trik just raises his eyebrows at you, while the rest of your party looks awkwardly from one to the other. Then, once the point has been made, you concede. "Just because the house happens to be in Kingspeace…"
"Ha! I knew it!" Trik laughs triumphantly, "Gods, Kingspeace? No wonder you'd claim to live next door, who'd ever want to live there?"
You sniff, turning your face away, but despite it all you find yourself smiling. Kingspeace is perhaps the most boring of all Ghastenhall's many districts, and while you personally might like the peace and quiet, you'd be willing to concede it isn't for everyone. "And you? You'd best be a fellow Ghasten, to be talking about home that way…"
Trik snorts, flipping over the cards and dividing them on the deck between you. You recognise the layout immediately - Blind King's Bluff, a game that somehow never caught on outside your home city. Too many rules, apparently.
"Oh, Trak and I have god's salt in our veins, never you worry," Trik says with a cardsharp's grin, inviting you to claim your cards with a sweep of his hands, "Da was a scarper, back 'afore the salties got him, and we still remember our way around. You've a learned look about you - black or blue?"
You nod, picking up the cards. The Godscar is a freshwater river, the Cambrian Bay salty and connected to the sea, and Ghastenhall built on the rocky hills where the two waters meet. Scarpers fish the former and salties the latter, and while their rivalry usually stays civil, it wouldn't be the first time someone paid with their life for wandering across the dividing line while drunk.
"Black, obviously," you reply with a sniff, vaguely offended that he would even suggest you got your schooling through the church and its charity, "I worked as a bookkeeper, back before… all of this."
Off to your side, Lisara sighs and shakes her head. You think you catch her muttering something about 'fucking ghastlies', but it would be impolite to recognise it, so you don't. If she cannot handle the presence of two citizens from the greatest city in the kingdom, that is her problem, not yours. At least Dorgo and Mikael have the good grace to merely look a trifle baffled by the byplay.
"Makes sense," Trik nods easily, "Everyone knows them up in goldquarter don't much care where something comes from, but they'll tell you to the penny how much it's worth. Say, did you ever…"
The conversation meanders from there, falling into the easy back and forth of two neighbours speaking of home. You talk of your favourite places to eat along the waterfront, the strangest clients you ever worked for, and the most outrageous rumours about the mad old Duke. Trik has a seemingly bottomless store of anecdotes and jests, all delivered with a smile and a flick of the cards, and as you play you find yourself enjoying his company far more than you would have ever expected.
Even here, even among the forsaken, you have found a tiny piece of home.
-/-
Life aboard the Frosthamar is simultaneously peaceful and vaguely uncomfortable. You know nothing of sailing and the crew expect nothing of you, but neither is there much of anything to do. There's no privacy either - you sleep on the deck beneath improvised tents, and when nature calls you are forced to squat awkwardly over the side rail and hope that nobody is watching. You play cards and dice with your fellows, watch the countryside as it rolls steadily by, and try not to go out of your mind with boredom.
The first leg of the journey is entirely uneventful. Half a day's sailing down the Varryn River brings you to the sea, at which point the heavily laden ship turns north and hugs the coast like a drunk clutching his friend's shoulder. You see farms and villages by the dozen, small patches of forest and loose handfuls of fishermen, and whenever you pass the locals wave to you and shout greetings rendered inaudible by wind and distance. Kargeld always waves back, a surprisingly cheerful gesture from the bitter old pirate, and when he catches you looking just grunts and spits over the side.
"Wouldn't want them getting suspicious," he says, and will not be drawn to further conversation.
After a week on the waves you are surprised to wake and see the great port city of Davryn off your port side. The City of Waves is one of the great metropoli of the realm, visited by traders and travellers from all across the world, but despite the grumbling of his sailors Kargeld makes no move to put in at the port. You suppose you can understand that, for with a port city come harbourmasters, and there are no good answers to be had to questions surrounding your cargo of weapons and ammunition, much less the presence of Talireans of no fixed abode aboard a foreign vessel.
A few days later, as you approach the northern border of the kingdom, your fears are proven correct.
Article: In this system, perception checks are only rolled if you are actively seeking for something. Otherwise, attempts to evade notice are rolled against a flat DC of 10 plus target's perception bonus, usually modified by environmental conditions etc.
In this case, no attempt at stealth is being made, so Dorgo - as the person with the highest perception modifier - is the first to spot the trouble.
"Ah, crap," Dorgo growls one day, rising from his position by the gunwale and staring past the aft of the ship, "Captain!"
Following his gaze tells you what the problem is almost immediately. You've seen plenty of other ships during this voyage, most especially around Davryn and the smaller regional ports, but the vessel following in your wake bears sails of white and blue emblazoned with the crowned sun of Talingarde. Kargeld confirms your impression a moment later, stomping over to the stern and spitting out a poisonous curse in his native tongue.
"Coastal guard," he growls to you as your team gathers, "Taxmen and soldiers. The Frosthamar won't outrun them, not this heavily loaded. They take one look at our cargo…"
You nod, hardly needing him to elaborate. There might not be any specific law on the books about shipping weapons to a hostile army, but at the very least they'll impound the ship and cargo and send word to their superiors in the capital.
"How many aboard?" Elise Zadaria asks in a cool voice, joining you at the stern with her staff firmly in hand. Beyond her, you can see all of your comrades gathering their weapons and working the stiffness out of their limbs, preparing for a fight.
"Ship of that size? A score, maybe," Kargeld grunts, running a calloused hand through his thickly braided beard. He's got a calculating gleam in his eyes now, and you know you're not the only one measuring the odds. Even with your team and the seventh it seems the Talireans outnumber you, but that is not necessarily the end of the matter. After Thorn's training you would certainly lay good money on any of your fellow agents against a mere soldier, but perhaps it does not have to come to that.
Either way, you need to make a decision quickly. The patrol ship is moving quickly, and you doubt you have more than a handful of minutes before it is close enough to board.
Article: How do you wish to proceed?
[ ] Burn the Sails
With your magic you can ruin the patrol ship's sails and perhaps set fire to its deck as soon as it draws within range. The crew will be too busy trying to save their vessel to catch you. Minimal risk to you, but the Talireans will know an uncommonly capable group was seen headed north.
[ ] Ambush Them
Allow the patrol ship to draw alongside and send across a boarding party, then ambush them. Combat is always risky, but you are confident in your chances. The Talireans will only know that one of their patrol ships set out one day and never returned.
[ ] Deceive Them
Use magic to disguise your team and the Seventh as agents of Talingarde, then make up a story that will satisfy the patrol ship. If successful you may be able to send the Talireans off chasing a red herring, leaving your mission to proceed unopposed.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[] Ambush Them
[] Deceive Them
Either of these, I think. It's imperative that no hints be left that shenanigans may be afoot at the border.
[] Deceive Them
Either of these, I think. It's imperative that no hints be left that shenanigans may be afoot at the border.
- Location
- Diamond City
[X] Ambush Them
[X] Ambush Them
- Location
- Who knows?
Ohh tricky tricky. Unless someone can make a good argument for it I think trying to set fire to the sails seems to be worst of both worlds. Leaves everyone alive and a giant, literally flaming signal that Something is Up. Yes the whole ship disappearing is also noticeable, but there'd be a lot more ambiguity about it [1]. Like presumably there's actual dangers that warrant regular patrols and thus a great number of things that could've plausibly killed off a patrol boat--even natural disasters--, and depending on how regularly they report it the actual location could also be in question, which could also help obfuscate our northward bound smuggling operation. If we set fire, then theres a boat full of living beings who can attest to a sudden suspicious fire from a northward bond ship around X city.
[1] General side note wonder how QM is gonna deal with the worldbuilding snaggle of scrying/divination spells.
[1] General side note wonder how QM is gonna deal with the worldbuilding snaggle of scrying/divination spells.
- Location
- New Zealand
Generally, scrying in this system is a fair bit more limited.
A 5th level spell can be used to divine someone's location, but you have to have meet them in person.
An 8th level can tell you were someone is but you need either: to have met them in person, a body part (Blood, hair, flesh, etc) or have something that was important to them (so our former spellbook would likely work)
The spell scrying could work, but gives the target a save, and if they succeed, them become immune to the spell for a day/week and get a glimpse of you.
Long distance scrying of a location isn't really a... thing.
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[X] Ambush Them
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Ambush Them
- Location
- Who knows?
Oh I was thinking of general "info gathering" spells, though given 2e in general I imagine they're much more limited too (tbf I think in 1e they tend to be Yes/No and riddles for Fifth Level and lower spells)
I admit sometimes I like brainstorming exactly how worldbuilding works with "Scry and Die" as a thing. Why bother with castles? I mean sure you can go "there's not that many people of casting Third and higher spells," but generally PF is pretty high fantasy/powered so there's definitely enough on a nation level scale, etc etc.
