Pathfinder AP: Kingmaker

Session 6: Double Size Kingmaker Annual #1

Winter is over!

Skragger and Tobias reunite with the others of the Restov Charter. Nylrah and Harlowe are glad to see their front line bodyguards back, and Eliellah is reading fan mail still recovering from her bear eating episode. As the fallout from the last session is still taking shape, the charter squares it’s shoulders and carries on with business.

Nylrah lets her hair down with the tradehouse rabble and learns that some careless hunter is leaving his traps unmarked, injuring more than a few of his fellows over the past weeks. Skragger gets the honor of assisting sister Felka assume control of House M’Grash operations at Oleg’s, (including use of his bedroom), and Harlowe warns his suppliers of coming troubles looking for a roost. They take about as you’d expect them to. Oleg sighs and says he’ll keep an eye out, Bhoken reveals he’s already rigged his hut to explode at the first sign of trouble.

The party escort Chief Sootscale back to his village on their way out to return to bandit hunting. The kobolds throw a grand feast for their returning chieftain and his successful treaty with the human lands north, of which the party partakes in as best they can. Nobody’s particularly in love with the cat meat dishes the kobolds prepare, and the mite war monument is a tad off-putting and disingenuous, but there’s no shortage of kobold orphans Kony is willing to apprentice out to this group of dangerous mercenaries, unholy arcanists, reprehensible entertainers and unscrupulous trade princes, so surely that makes it even. Yep. No problem there. No sir.

THE PARTY STRIKES WEST

Our heroes sally westward and find a broken river crossing, with little but a single rope marking the bridge’s existence. Harlowe schleps across and makes friends nearly gets drowned by the bridge’s undead ferryman Nettle, who’s actually fairly reasonable (if upset and preoccupied) for an ungodly murderous hate zombie crime against humanity. He tells his tale of woe and murder at the hands of the Stag Lord, and the party glibly promises the villain’s body as a trophy to Nettle as a token of pity, and proof he would be duly avenged. The party seems to forget the promised proof of the Stag Lord’s murder to Restov, though…

Nettle allows them passage without further drowning hazard, and the party picks camp (poorly) for the night. Watchman Scragger does no such thing, and Nylrah awakens in the middle of the night with a shudder. Her unease is well founded, because just out the outskirts of the clearing a spooky ghost Wendigo meandered by. Luckily, the beast never noticed them. Someone somewhere else wasn’t so lucky.

At the next morning’s light the group pressed on into the forest, a forest crawling with those strange talking spider rat creatures. They demand a toll and are bought off with simple silver pieces. The trees apparently grow powerful psychotropic fruit, of which the party took and would abuse to humorous effect. Hooray LSD Fang Berries.

The charter happen upon the tracks for the beast Tuskgutter. Harlowe demands the tusks for ivory handles. The party doesn’t object. They lay a cunning trap for the beast, but are caught off guard at the sight of a litter(flock? school? murder?) of babby boars. The beast attacks at the death of it’s young and there’s blood and violence and tusks and gutting all around. Tobias and Scragger wind up face down in a pool (only partially their own blood) while Harlowe desperately lays into the beast, his weapons failing him for the first time in their use. Only the timely use of the mysterious origami cup by Nylrah saved their groups… bacon, as it were, by freezing the creature still. They rest the evening in the boar’s cave and take slices of the fang berries. It’s not a good trip for Scragger and Nylrah. The group collects the corpse and heads to Oleg’s to drop the beast off, collect their reward, bask in the notoriety, and generally puff their egos a little. The trade house staff can hardly handle such a large beast at once, so they begin preparing the meat for a feast to happen next session. The crew heads southward to map some remaining blank spots.

The day starts off well enough with an amusing encounter with a carbunkle, a creature that defies all logic and seems to evolved from nowhere to take it’s place completely outside of the food chain. The creature, psychically potent as it may be, is a complete goof. The group captures the bizarre thing as a momento and cheap way to get fucked up when the fang berries run out.

As if to admonish them for daring to wring a little levity from their work, a plume of ill smoke bellows from the kobold tribe lands. The charter strikes as fast as they can towards their allies, only to be ambushed unawares by bandits. Harlowe kicks himself for not seeing this ploy for what it was. The Stag Lord’s top lieutenant Kressel is behind the ruse, and sets a frighteningly large amount of sellswords and highwaymen after the charter. Skragger falls for the classic pit trap. Tobias is elbow deep in rabble. Nylrah is fighting for her life, and Harlowe does something reckless. Trusting his insane armorer, he grabs one of the unmarked rounds Bohken gave him and shoots into the melee. It burns through some of the goons outright and starts eating Kressel from the inside out with a strange glowing cancer. Unfortunately, so to does it do that to Tobias. Nylrah uses her second origami spell of the trip to magic missile machine gun the bandit princess Kressel to death as she turns to ash, and the group rides like mad towards the temple of Erastil to save friend Tobias from the same fate. Luck was with them that day and he survived, although not without psychological scars. Tobias is bound and determined to add this brush with death to his ever growing tatto collection, although he find trouble trying to encapsulate “death by magic glowing super science cancer bullet” into a coherent design. He settles with a portrait of Harlowe on his arm and threats of severe, severe beatings should the man ever shoot him again.

He agrees sheepishly. “I won’t ever point those bloody things at you again. I’ll just use the regular buckshot.”

Comments

ZMYK

I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.