Maker of Kings - A Kingmaker AAR

[Miyu]

Herein lies the tale of a brave band of adventurers, who dare to brave the uncharted Stolen Lands south of Rostland, of the Kingdom of Brevoy. Gather round, and hear their story.

(This thread shall serve as a record of this Pathfinder Kingmaker AP game, played every Sunday at 7:00 p.m. EDT. I invite everybody to follow along, as we explore the trackless wilderness, and seek to establish our names in the history of Golarion.)


Dramatis Personae:

GM - Miyu

Lucetta Orlovsky - Peachasaurus - Human Mobile Fighter

Though only 39th in line to inherit her family's titles, land, and riches, Lucetta Orlovsky nevertheless recieved special treatment from others when her name was mentioned. When associating with the lower-class, it got her admiring and jealous looks, as well as gifts she did nothing to earn. When rubbing shoulders with the elite, it got her pitying glances and judgement on her plainer clothing and 'rural' manners. Her parents took advantage of their noble blood only when they thought it could be useful, managing to get Luce a decent education, a cozy home on a small bit of land to raise her and her siblings in, and not much else. Luce grew up wandering the woods on her family's land with her older brother and sister, where she forged a connection to the land and nature. When she began showing more interest in swordplay than in books, her father apprenticed her to a minor Aldori swordlord to learn the art of battle. She volunteered to go to the Stolen Lands in order to avoid an arranged marriage to her distant cousin, Octavius Orlovsky, and prove herself worthy in a land where names mean nothing.

Tyson Navi - ProfDaemon - Half-Orc Bard

While half-orcs are not as ostricized in Brevoy as other parts of the world, that does not mean it does not happen. Tyson Navi could confirm this fact from his own first hand experiences. As a child he had but one friend, whose family was renowned for avoiding conflict. Having stepped in to defend another child, he quickly became close friends with the heir to the Orlovsky family. Enjoying having a friend, he sought out more; yet due to his intimidating appearance, he found great difficulty in doing so. One day, Tyson approached a wandering bard who had quickly befriended all those around them, asking him how to do the same. "Make them smile. If you can do that, they will be your friends." These words are now Tyson's own mantra and he will do anything he can to make those around him smile, even by force.

Crok Blackclaw - IRage - Half-Orc Ranger

Having been bullied by most of his tribe for being smaller/weaker then most of them, he set out to prove his strength and value to to the tribe. Making his way to the Riverlands with help of skills, he seeks adventure and honor.

[Miyu]

Gavril Langri - Dkyrn - Half-Elf Summoner

Gavril Langri was born to an Elven father, Darrylar and a Human mother, Jaelle. Their little family also included his brother, Ardain, who was more than a decade older then his younger sibling. While he certainly did not lack for love, it also did not take Gavril long to realize that his family was not leading the life that so many others did. Where most people seemed to settle in one place, to have a home and friends they could count on, his family was always on the move. A week here, a month there, sometimes in the great cities of Avistan, sometimes in little farming communities with barely a handful of houses, and sometimes in the plentiful wilds, tracts of wilderness stretching for as far as the wilds could see. While it meant that Gavril got to see much more of the world then most could ever dream, to see the many wonders that each new nation, each new city or region might offer, it was also a somewhat lonely existence and made the young half-elf long for a real home.

With a deep admiration for his brother, Gavril yearned to show the same gifts with the sword, the same grace and stealth when it came to stalking through the wild glens of the Verduran forests or the back alleys of Magnimar. But where Ardain took after their father, Gavril took after their mother. His gift was magic, the wild call of the arcane burned into his blood, already beginning to show it's shape as Gavril neared his teen years. His mother of course was delighted and immediately took over his tuteledge in the coaxing that mystic gift into full bloom. It was an enthusiasm that Gavril began to share, but that would quickly have a dampener put on it. Tensions between his brother and parents countinued to rise until they reached their climax in a shouting match one night. In his tent, away from the fire Gavril only caught hints of the heated words but it was enough to give him whole new questions about the life his family lead and their constant travels. His brother's shouted assertions that 'being constantly on the run is no way to live your life' or that it was long past time for his parents to 'confront their demons'. Even his father's assertions that his brother was 'just an ignorant child with no idea of the real dangers out there in the world' only served to give the young man growing questions. It was difficult to get to sleep that night, and just before slipping off he felt his brother slip into the tent and lay a hand on his shoulder. Ardain apologized, but said that he could no longer stay, that he had to go out and make his own path. And with that, Gavril was left that much more alone.

Left with little else, he continued to try to bring forth his power under his mother's guidance, and a gentler, less confrontational sort then his brother, Gavril was unwilling to confront his parents about what he had heard that turbulent night. But he was left to wonder. Sure, merchants travel constantly for a living and sometimes they rode in wagons for months at a time, moving between village to village, selling off what they had obtained. Sometimes. But not always. Sometimes those wagons were abandonned abruptly, in the dead of the night as they galloped off on horses in the dark. Sometimes they would go weeks, months without seeing another soul, living in the wilds, relying on father's woodcraft to feed them, shelter them, always out of the way, always watching for unseen eyes that might glimpse them. It was enough to make Gavril wonder just what his parents were hiding from, running from. If they even knew. If it was even real.

Their constant travels would eventually bring the small family to the faded glories of the Taldor Empire, to Oppara, the seat of greatness that once launched the Grand Armies of Exploration that stretched out across Avistan and Garund and spread the dominance of the Taldor Empire across the Inner Sea region millenia ago. Here, in that city with all its marvels, Gavril could forget his troubles for a time. But only for a time. Perhaps the teeming masses lulled his parents into a false sense of security, a sense of invisibility amongst the multitudes, but Gavril at last discovered that his parents did indeed have reason to dread. He never saw the one who attacked him from behind, the battering of a sap leaving him dazed and concussed. Nor could he say exactly how many seconds or minutes it was before he managed to become aware of the sound of metal clashing above him in that dark alley, of rolling over to see a figure shrouded in shadows, those unseen features somehow seeming monstrous. Or seeing his beloved brother, bathed in glow of the stars above as he furiously swung that curved elven blade in desperate defense. "Run!" was all Ardain said and stumbling, Gavril did move towards the mouth of the alleyway. At least until he heard that terribly scream and looked back to see his brother impaled, a puddle of darkness already beginning to pool at his feet as he hung their suspended for an agonizing moment before sliding free, slumping bonelessly, lifeless to the ground. Standing stunned, trying to summon his magic. Magic that would not come. Magic that had abandonned him. Just standing, watching as the death that claimed his brother turned for him. And then bolts of pure, radiant light shot over his shoulder, gleaming trails left in their wake, followed almost at once by a pair of arrows passing so close that he could almost swear he could feel the fletching tickle his ear before those shaft buried in the creature's chest. With a hiss, that shadowed shape turned, fled into the night. And the Langri family was left diminished, their eldest son destined for an unmarked grave in a corrupt city while they fled once more. From something, a threat that was all too real.

Now, if ever, was the time to ask his questions. To understand just what horrors lurked in his family's past. But Gavril was devestated. His brother that he had so admired was gone, dead, saving his life. And the magic that should have let him stand on his own two feet had abandonned him, left him alone when he needed it the most. When he needed it to save his brother. For more then a year Gavril might have been little more then an automoton. He ate when he needed, slept when he needed. He walked, he talked, if one or two word, monotone responses to inquiries counted at least. The studies he had once looked forward to were abandonned. The wonder with which he once observed the grand marvels of Golarion barely registered. Their path through the diverse River Kingdoms hardly garnered so much as a hint of interest. Finally, after more than a year things seemed like maybe they were safe again, maybe there was some way that things could be normal once more, or as normal as they had ever been in his life.

On the surface, Daggermark was such an innocuous sort of city, no different then so many other cities they had journeyed through. But these were the River Kingdoms and what was on the surface rarely matched the reality. After more then a week of resting in an out of the way inn, recovering from travels past and preparing for hourneys ahead, the family set out for the gates of the city. His mother never got the chance to cry out, the air that took her in the throat unseating her from her mount as she landed in the muddy street, the life already faded from her eyes. The half dozen men emerging from the shadows swarmed toward his father, daggers drawn and gleaming with some noxious looking substance coating their blades. And the dam inside Gavril shattered. No sorcerous spell came to his lips like his mother. Instead a figure appeared out of the darkness, part of the darkness. Shadows and light. Tall and broad shouldered, Gavril's heart leapt. His brother had come again. Somehow. Impossibly. And while the features were right, the size, the shape, it was as if it was only the shape of his brother. Shadows and light. He stalked past, and where the should be flesh it was as if there was only the starry universe within. It plowed into the crowd of men clustered around his father without hesitation, fighting like his brother. No sword in it's hands true, but lashing out with kicks that left bloody gashes on those he assailed. Wounds did not seem to make it hesitate and no puddles of blood filled the street from its wounds this time. In short order the assassins were driven off, those not dead on the ground with their throats ripped out fleeing into the night. But his father, always so strong and sure panted for breath and barely kept his feet. The starry figure in who Gavril -- if no one else -- so clearly saw his brother's reflection offered a shoulder to lean on, half-supporting half carrying the injured elf out of town. For three, feverous days the trio picked their way through the wilderness. Three days until the poison that had coated those blades stole what little remained of his father's health, leaving him gasping, clawing at the ground, nearly incoherent in the warnings that he issued to the last of the Langri's. But Gavril was not alone. He would never be alone again.

[Miyu]

The magic that had fled when he needed it most had returned. Returned and changed. Too late perhaps, and Gavril mourned as he buried his father, as he dwelled on his lovely mother who had devoted so much time to try and fan the spark of the arcane in his blood. No, the power that burned in his blood was not the same of his sorcerous mother. Instead he found that he could bring his starry protector, what he viewed as his brother's essence returned to him, could make him manifest. And when his 'brother' was not there he could call other creatures, other companions. True, only for minutes at a time. But no longer would he be alone, not entirely. Never again.

No longer with his parents to set his path, Gavril faced the world on his own for the first time. He was well-travelled to be sure, and tutored by his parents, but he had always relied on him. He began to journey across the River Kingdoms, seeking out those repositories of knowledge, those learned scholars from whom he might learn something of interest either about the world or about his unusual brand of magic. The shy, quiet boy learned to be a more outgoing, articulate man, to rely on words first, to work to convince others to do as he needed instead of forcing them with a blunt object or magical threats. He learned the value of guile, that upon occasion following the letter of the law did not result in the greater good. He learned, he grew, he grew more confident, more sure of himself. But he also began to wish for a purpose, something more then travel for the sake of travel. For soemthing stable. Something permanent. A home.

His travels eventually brought him to Brevoy, to the southern city of Restov. It was there that he first heard the rumors. That there would be a push to bring a little order, a little bit of safety to the untamed Stolen Lands to the south. To carve out a slice of civilization out of the wilderness. To create a new community. To create a home for those who lack one. Finally, his imagination fired, Gavril resolved that he wanted to be involved in that. That is what he wanted his path to be. His path might be filled with hardship, with sinister mysteries that had not been explained to him, answers that he might never find now. But the future, that might be something he could shape. A home. A new family.

-Gavril is always inclined to try to talk out a problem first. His experiences have taught him that some problems can not be fixed with words however. He is not naive enough to believe that words will fix any solution. He will resort to violence when needed, and if it is to protect someone he cares about, even ruthlessly.

-Gavril believes that his Eidolon contains some part of his brother's soul, his essence. That some part of his brother lives on in his starry guardian. And while the shape, the height and build certainly matches his brother, his Eidolon is otherwise featureless, made up of a tapestry of the night sky -- pitch black and full of stars. Anyone who knew his brother would not necessarily see the resemblance. But his belief, his conviction that a part of his brother is still with him is unshakable. It also means that he has a reluctance to risk that connection. Intellectually he knows that his Eidolon is not his brother, that it might not even truly be able to die in the conventional sense, but it does mean that he is a little cautious about sending him into direct combat. He is more likely to use his 'brother' as a scout or for his other talents and to fall back on his other, formidable summoning powers when threatened.

-Having lost his family, Gavril's desire to create a new one is considerable. And his loyalty to anyone he considers part of his family is likely to be without limit.

-After having spent his entire life on the move, having no one place he can return to, no one place that he can point to as the spot where he belongs, a desire to have that, to have a home is one of the driving forces in Gavril.

[Miyu]

Session 1 - First Forays

Lucetta Orlovsky heard through her family that the Swordlords of Restov were offering charters to explore and potentially settle the Stolen Lands. She reached out to her family friend, Tyson, and together they gathered two more adventurers, and set out to Oleg's Trading Post.

Once they arrived, they were greeted by an exuberant Svetlana Leveton, who was very pleased to finally have some help with the bandits who had been plaguing her and her husband, Oleg. As soon as the party heard about these brigands, they agreed to do something about them. They planned an ambush, and prepared to take them out.

The next morning, as expected, the bandits arrived. Oleg behaved as though nothing was different, while the party laid in wait. Tyson was spotted, but acted as though he was drunk in the stable. Crok was also spotted, but simply stood silently, waiting to see what happened. The brigand leader began harrassing Svetlana, prompting Oleg to initiate a confrontation. This sudden development caused Lucetta to spring out, and engage the bandit leader.

Gavril had Ardain push a cart across the entrance, trapping the brigands inside. A fierce battle ensued, with Tyson protecting the Levetons and entangling brigands in his nets. Ardain attempted to club the leader, but managed to gut him instead. Lucetta found the bandit with which she engaged a nimble fighter, and after several exchanges, he managed to slip under her guard, wounding her grievously. Meanwhile, Crok laid waste with his greataxe, slaying bandit after bandit. After all was said and done, all but one brigand lay dead, with one knocked unconscious. Lucetta was restored by Gavril's healing magic, and a Potion for the Curing of Light Wounds provided by Oleg's stock. Oleg informed the party of an eccentric potion maker living to the east, a hermit named Bokken.

The party interrogated the surviving bandit, who gave up the position of his camp. The party decided to imprison him in the (mostly) empty middens pit, and to set off immediately for the camp. While two horses were trapped within the refitted border fort, the rest had fled. Crok and Tyson tracked two of them down, and managed to bring them back with them. Meanwhile, Oleg happily bought much of the spoils from the brigands off of the party, and placed the heads of the bandits on pikes outside his establishment, as a warning. He also offered 1000 gp in credit at his shop if they could find and return Svetlana's wedding ring, stolen by the bandits on their first visit, which once belonged to his grandmother.

The party set out around noon, and soon reached the edge of the Gnarlwood. They chose to skirt the wood, until they reached the Thorn River. They arrived at the Thorn late at night, and made camp. Gavril took first watch with Ardain. Near the end of his shift, Ardain alerted him to a pair of looming shadows heading toward them in the night. As the rest of the party awoke and hurriedly prepared to break camp, Ardain scouted the figures, and returned quickly, indicating a pair of trolls were headed their way.

Rather than engage the trolls in the night, the part slipped into the wood, barely avoiding an encounter. They set up a new camp, and slept. The next morning, Crok woke up with a large curly-q mustache painted on his upper lip. He decided it made him look handsome, so he left it. The party carefully picked their way downriver, and after a few hours, spotted a camp. They saw nobody there, and approached.

Soon, the party was met with a hail of arrows, raining from unseen attackers. Pinned down, it took several volleys before they were able to pinpoint their attackers. A half dozen bandits were striking from hidden positions, and several were wounded early in the fight. Tyson began making jokes, trying to bolster the party's courage/ Lucetta spotted a woman with a pair of gleaming axes, who matched the description given by Svetlana of the psychotic, sadistic leader of this band of brigands. Lucetta charged, but was mowed down with a hail of arrows. Gavril dismissed Ardain, and summoned eagle after eagle to harass his opponents. Crok made some heroic shots, burying an arrown in the eye of this bandit woman, Kressle. The tide of battle turned quickly after that, with the remainder of the bandits being handily defeated.

Lucetta awoke, the second time in two days, to potions being poured down her throat. Grievously wounded, she yet remained alive. There were many spoils to be had, with Lucetta claiming the finely crafted handaxes wielded by Kressle. The party left the camp (complete with stripped bandit bodies) late in the afternoon, concealing their trail behind them. They made camp in the woods in the same place as the previous night, and collapsed into slumber, exhausted from their harrowing battle.

[Miyu]

Seras Codre - Ianlmt - Elf Alchemist, Brewer

"Seras? Oof, what do you want to know about him? Better question: What did he do now? Look, he's not a bad man, please understand that, he's just...odd, idealistic. Came here a while back blubbering his guts out and just spilled his life story over a few pints. His parents were born over in Restov, real strong Wizards from what I hear. Wanted to use their magic to guard the lands, should've heard his mother talk, full of pride and power, nothing else like it. Had a few kids, all of them grew up to be just like them...then Seras came. He was the youngest and boy was he different. From what he tells me, they wanted to join in with the studies and even excelled compared to his older siblings, now keep in mind, he was red in the face on his own ale when he told me this and Gods even knows what was in that. Anyhow, he said he wanted got sick of all the bandit raids and barbarians burning other villages down and sought a new way. Loved the “advancements in science” as he called it and wanted to bring it together with his own magical abilities. His parents were more about the old ways though and “kept pushing him toward the traditional” should have seen his impressions of them, made them seem like tyrants. Around that time he was getting a little older and got his first taste of some of the creature from some Dwarven traders; hated it! At least, that's what he says. But he kept putting them back because he loved the feeling. He then tried putting his own spin on things and shared it with his brothers and sister, called it: Firefly Brew. Said it made his siblings shoot lights out of their mouths and he laughed and laughed about that one. Got into a lot of trouble as he says so while he was being punished, he gathered all his shite and jumped out his own window, and ran all the way to Brevoy. Again, his words not mine and between you and I: he couldn't lie to save his life and that's him sober. Truth is, he was found by some traders, caught a ride and never looked back. That's when he made it to me, now you'd think that was the end of it but that night got a little strange. This roughed up looking family came in later that night, his eyes focused on the kids. All bloodied and bruised; a few bandits ambushed them and even killed their dog. Happened from time to time but it's not any less tragic.

Anyway, he pulls a vial out of his jacket and walked up to them. Talked to them for a bit, swaying like a damn tree and reeking to no end but they still talked to him. He passed them a small bag and they broke down crying, hugging him, and spreading thanks but he just nodded and headed back to the bar. Never forgot what happened next. He trodded back to the bar and ordered the best thing we had. He sipped and shuddered then started pulling out some vials and leaves. I said something but he just smiled and mixed some things, poured it in and said to me: “Leave this for an hour, tell me what you think.” He then puts a gold down and walks out. Not the weirdest night but I figured I'd just shake it off and finish off the night. About...45 minutes pass and hear his blast off in the distance, nothing huge but it scared some horses outside. I wait for a bit and I see Seras waltz in, smirking a little, and carrying a sack. He's all covered in soot and smelling like blood, drops the sack with the family and trots back to the bar. He sits down and asks, “What do you think of the beer?” I'm all sorts of confused but I just take a sip and let me tell you this: it was absolutely ****ing delicious. Hahaha, I tell him I love it and he damn near demands I give him a job. That's how he got to stay here, they found the bodies of those bandits, bare assed and blown up but all their trickets were gone.

Look, I know he's odd, even a little rude but he's a good man. He left here a while back to help out the rest of them around his home. Never said a word, just left. Gotta admit, I won't miss the smell from his little experiments and people coming in here shouting about how his new concoction made them bald or wouldn't let them sleep. But I'll miss the one's who came in all bloody and left with fewer wounds or the one's having his drinks and said they almost immediately forgot their cares and left here happy."

-Statement from Seras Codre's employer, Grom Strongjaw