[OOC] Post your characters and any backstory you have here. Your characters are starting in the city of Magnimar in Varisia of Pathfinder's standard setting.

You wake up in the Shining Oak Inn, rather early in the morning. The smell of pork and eggs wafts into your room from downstairs. Your client, a gnome merchant, should be showing up shortly. You will be escorting him to the smaller town of Sandpoint and back. You will be paid 400gp each for a safe round trip. The Innkeeper, Acora, rings the breakfast bell.

rolz.org/group
Room Name: Perils of the Lost Coast0

[OOC]: Basic character bio:
Gratianus Petrescu
Aasimar Summoner
Appearance: Like most aasimar, Gratianus's looks hint at his heritage; in this case, the blood of the fire-loving peri burns hot in his veins. His eyes are the iridescent blue of the root of a flame, his hair a reddish blond that turns auburn before fading into the white of ash at the ends. He is accompanied by a quadrupedal eidolon, Nerva, which takes a quadrupedal, distinctly feline form. While Nerva is primarily a cool grey, its surface reflects any and all flames nearby without reflecting much else of the surroundings, leading to Nerva seeming to glow orange or red when flames are nearby...which is somewhat common around Gratianus.
Personality: The angel and demon on either shoulder is a common way of representing conflict, but for Gratianus, it's more literal. As with all emberkin, while the blood of a celestial flows through his veins, the blood of a fallen angel is mixed in with it. His solution to resist these urges, both good and bad, is to live a strict, codified lifestyle. One thing his two ancestors can agree upon, however, is an affinity for fire. While some say fire purges evil and cleanses the soul, it's also capable of reckless destruction, and when he was younger, Gratianus used it for both. Now days, he tries to reserve it for more mundane tasks, but it still tends to be one of his earlier options for self-defense.

[OOC] And now, with that out of the way, my actual post.

The smell of fire woke Gratianus from one of his reoccurring dreams that, like many, tended to end in flames. Wood smoke. Slightly damp, harvested three to four days prior, primarily oak, some aspen...STOP. He clamped down hard on that train of thought. Taking a deep breath, he took a moment to meditate and brush off the dream–it wouldn't be fair to call it a nightmare, with how used to them he had gotten and how vague they had become as of late–before heading downstairs to breakfast, greeting Acora and accepting a plate of meat and eggs, the smell of burning wood still bringing errant thoughts of flames like bubbles in a pot approaching boiling–albeit one with a tightly sealed lid.

[OOC]: Basic character bio
Alastor Grond
Half-Orc Alchemist (Grenadier)
Appearance: Though broader shouldered than most men, Alastor could have easily passed for human were it not for the pair of small nubs poking their way out of his olive skin. Set in his distinctly orcish skull sit a pair of golden eye brimming with intuition and intellect. His hair was always kept cut short, leaving the suggestion of horns and his slightly pointed ears clearly visible; Alastor had always found customers expected orcish bombs to have just that little extra oomph. Within his manifold layers of cloth were many pockets he used to carry his wares, both legal and... otherwise.
Personality: An arms dealer by trade, Alastor quickly amassed a small fortune selling bombs and other alchemical weaponry to warring city-states. His outwardly-obvious intellect and personal charm always helped to seal the deal in the past, but lately... there just hasn't been that much fighting. Oh sure, there was fighting, but not fighting. Not like there used to be... With his stream of income drying up and the cost of materials higher than ever, he had to turn elsewhere. Odd jobs here and there... anything that could be fixed with explosions. And his likable personality always got him that little bit of extra gold... And for now, that was all he was after.

The smell of pork had Alastor awake before the bell ever rang. He took the time to make his appearance as perfect as possible: wise, experienced, with just that liiiiittle bit of singe. No good alchemist has two eyes, as the old saying goes... He finally strode down as the bell rang, boots clicking on the wood floor with each step. He Acora a nod and a charismatic smile as he accepted his plate of food, preferring to let his teeth do the talking. Perfectly straight human teeth, that is. No sane person would trust an orc's fanged smile. Not even another orc.

Hell, especially not another orc.

OOC: How do you guys want to handle the Character sheets? If you post them here, I can edit them into the first post so everyone can keep track of them.

As you sit down to your meal, the front door to the common room opens. Through it walks a tan skinned gnomish man with black hair. He wears a rather long coat for his small body and a tall hat with the head of a rabbit on top. He walks with a limp and holds himself up with a walking stick made of birchwood. You recognize him as your employer; he calls himself Smirk.

Smirk calls for a plate of food from Acora. "So, where is everyone else? I was hoping to set out soon."

[OOC]: Unless this QQCode thing supports the posting of entire .pdf files, I'd have to just send you the sheet; I'm using the Mod Neceros form-fillable.

Gratianus just shrugged. "Have not seen them. Suggest you ask them directly," he said between bites of food. The gnome had hired several guards for the journey, but as far as Gratianus knew, they were all, like him, individual agents.

[OOC] Basic Character bio,

Arzhel
Half-Elf Ninja

Appearance: A man of average build, clad in black. A black hood and mask cover his face and head, leaving only his white eyes and bangs visible to a casual glance, but upon closer inspection, the high cheekbones indicative of elven heritage can be faintly seen.

Personality: Growing up in the streets has left Arzhel sympathetic to the plight of the common man, but also cynical and aloof. This aloofness is further emphasized by his ninja training-to him, it's all part of the job.

Bio: Arzhel has spent his entire life on the streets, with his first memory being taught how to beg for food. As he grew older, he developed a natural talent for sneaking about, and caught the notice of a ninja when he broke into his room. Intrigued at Arzhel's talent, he offered to teach him how to use those skills for a greater purpose, and the result is the man he is today.

[OOC] I happen to have my character sheet on Google Drive, so I can share that with you.

Arzhel awoke at the sound of the bell, the smell of rending fat thick in his nose. Taking a minute to don his hood and mask, he strode down the stairs, nodding a greeting to Acora before accepting a plate of food and taking a seat across from Smirk.

"Good morning everyone. Has our employer arrived?"

OOC: If you want to email me the character sheets, my email address is matthew.adams93@yahoo.com. I'll type it up myself when i get it.

"Yes I have, Smirk pipes. He does a quick count of the heads eating breakfast. "It seems the other two are some late sleepers. Acora, could you be a dear and get those lazy bumpkins up and at 'em?"

The elven woman hurries upstairs with a couple buckets of water.

OOC: Will send the sheet as soon as its done.

Desgoffe Bierstadt
Dwarf Fighter

Appearance: Desgoffe Bierstadt is a tall and beardless dwarf. He is commonly mistaken as a young human due to his neutral physical features. Desgoffe can never grow any facial hair beyond a five o'clock and this has also resulted in him never having the need to shave. Desgoffe considers his need for not shaving to be one of his stronger characteristics.

Personality: Desgoffe is somber and always late. During his free time he enjoys reading dense, nonsensically philosophy written on tattered scrolls. He does not have many friends and he hates being alone.

Bio: As a child, Desgoffe ran away from home for reasons that he barely remembers. He soon found another home and lived with a charismatic woman that turned out to be a warlock. Upon the woman attempting to drain his blood as part of a seductively strange ritual, Desgoffe decided to become homeless. Due to his lack of skills and any resemblance of natural talents, he took up work whenever no one else would do it. He worked as a bodyguard at local taverns and as a muscleman for a group of shady halflings that transported unmarked crates down by the docks. This work would pay him a mediocre amount of money and he always spent his earnings wisely on ale and at whorehouses.

Post: Desgoffe is awakened by a cold splash of water. He rubs his eyes and then shuts them again at the sight of daylight. He awkwardly gets out of bed and sniffs himself. His clothing reeks of cheap wine and he hopes that the Acora does not notice. Desgoffe does not bother to get dressed since he had fallen asleep in his clothes. He ignores the innkeeper in his room, travels sluggishly downstairs and sits at the table with the others.

Desgoffe looks around the room and says, “I'm assuming you're the gnome merchant. This trip shouldn't take long, right? One to two days max? Hopefully it's nothing terribly demanding.”

[OOC]
G'nther Boulderpike
Drow Rogue

Apperance: Dusky purple skin, bright white hair, and solid crimson red eyes. Stands six feet and four inches tall with a slender build. Wears studded reddish brown leather armor with numerous pockets and holsters that carry some of his many weapons; he carries a silver watch on his person at all times. He can often found with a dimly lit cigarette in his mouth or a pack of cards on hand. He is clean shaven and his skin appears to be fairly rugged for a creature of elvish descent. He has pointed ears like any elf, but they are appear hidden behind his dark brown bowler hat.

Personality: Happy-go-lucky fellow without much care in the world, so much so that he's almost considered a sociopath. He is by no means an evil or malicious person, he just chooses to do whatever he wishes, regardless of consequence. He grew up in a rather harsh and hostile environment that may have been the reason for uncaring and unfeeling tendencies. He acts only out of his own wishes, though he does enjoy a good fight and loves to get lost in the chaos of it all. He is also lacks much tact and will often say things that take others aback, some may see him as ruthless, though he just doesn't really care about anything besides trying to survive.

Bio: He was abandoned and left out on the streets of a foreign land by his people when he was young drow of three years. He was raised on the streets through the help of an old Dwarf who took in the child, despite his elvish heritage, and decided to raise him as his own. This kind dwarf's name was Dromodar Boulderpike, though he was short and on the bulky side, he was a rather excellent thief and was able to train young G'nther, as he so named, in this trade. Some years had passed and one day Dromodar made the mistake of stealing a rather precious stone from a local gang of orcs and they went looking for the man who had the stones to steal such an expensive item. Eventually the orcs tracked down Dromodar since he a rather boisterous person when he's had a few drinks in him. The orcs found Dromodar in a rather small apartment with G'nther, when they asked for the stone Dromodar informed them that he had already sold the stone and he used to money to pay for this apartment so that he could get off of the streets. In a furious rage, the orcs held both Dromodar and G'nther down and told them that only one of them was going to get out of here alive, they laid down a single dagger between the two of them and told to fight to live or die with one another. G'nther looked over at Dromodar and then back at the dagger, Dromodar reassured him that they will get out of this alive together and that they must not make any hasty decisions, but before Dromodar could take in another breath, G'nther hard already lodged the dagger into Dromodar's neck. Pleased at the sight of a son killing his father, the orcs decided to spare G'nther. G'nther walked over to Dromodar's body, standing over him he looked the dwarf in the eyes and in Dromodar's final moments, G'nther smiled and whispered "how ironic it should be that you saved me from dying on the streets, to only end up dying because of my hands", with this he walked away laughing and went looking for a means to provide for himself. He decided to take up Dromodar's trade over the next hundred years or so and bring it to another level by working as a hitman to eliminate politicians of various factions, stealing from affluent homes, and partaking in any sort of work that can bring him onto the front lines of battle. Though he does enjoy the occasional back alley games of poker he is often quick to make some coin from as he is rather cunning in games of chance, you can still find him living in that same old run down apartment that Dromodar got for them.

G'nther walks in from outside, smelling of freshly lit tobacco, and sits down beside Gratianus. He calls out to Acora smiling and tells her that "the food smells rather lovely and its such a nice morning, would you be so kind as to fix me up a plate of whatever the gentleman beside me is having.' he looks around the room and states "i take it you fine folks are just about ready for today's trip, how about a small game of cards to pass the time?", G'nther pulls out a deck from his pocket and sets it on the table.

Smirk beams. His mouth widens into great, toothy grin that gave him his name. "And we're ready!" he practically sings. "Come on you tall folk. No time for cards. I want to make it out of the woods before dark.

The gnome leads you out of the inn and to a rather large covered wagon loaded with various crates. A couple of brown horses are hooked up to the front. Smirk has you guys walk alongside the wagon. The heavy load slows the horses down enough that you can keep up with them rather easily. As you walk through Magnimar, you notice wanted posters on the sides of the wood and slate buildings throughout the town. They depict the visage of a handsome man with dark hair. Beneath the portrait, it says: Jubrayl Vishki, head of the Scarni crime syndicate. Wanted on charges of blackmail, extortion, conspiracy, crimes against decency, grave robbing, smuggling, murder, thievery, burglary, varied mayhem, and murder.

"They're never going to catch him advertising their search for him like that. He's way too smart to out himself." Smirk leads you out of the town of the city, and following a road that takes you along the coastline, you reach a small woody area. Not far in, you see an overturned wagon, burned to a blackened husk. Bodies of the caravan members lay among the wreckage, charred or bloody. One woman emerges from among the ruin. She is dark skinned, with pixie cut hair wearing bloody, scale armor. "Turn back," she says in a rather hoarse voice.

OOC: Going to pop in an action in the middle of your post, hope you don't mind. Also, how do you want to do dice rolls? Our end or yours?

As the party leaves Magnimar, Gratianus summons Nerva to join them on the road.
Seeing the burnt wreckage, Gratianus kneels to inspect it, focusing on the charred edges to see if he could recognize the type of fire (probably Knowledge (Arcana) to determine if the fire is magical, and if so, maybe to identify a likely source), trying to keep his mind off how pretty the fire must have looked when it was burning. Nerva, meanwhile, prowls around the area, searching for any sign of other creatures, still present or not (Perception for other creatures currently present and for tracks).

Arzhel spares a glance to G'nther, before returning his attention to Smirk. "I'd prefer to hear more specifics about our job," He pauses, taking out a neatly rolled piece of paper and unfurling it, revealing a wanted ad, "since this advertisement isn't very informative."

G'nther begins to whistle a jaunty toon and spouts "fellows, seems like yer taking this bit too serious, whats a little fire ever done beside hide some important evidence." he begins to walk slowly towards the fire as he fiddles with the pocket watch in his hand. As he is slowly steps towards the fire, he is focusing in on his surroundings to spot any sort of trap that may lay before him. Once he is 80 feet away from the bloodied woman, he bellows "what are you bellyaching about, just some bodies and blood, water will clean it all up. C'mere lassie, lets get you out of that wreckage"

[OOC}
why are we unicorns

OOC: We are unicorns because they are the default avatars for this site. Also, since this site doesn't have a dice roller, I have edited the a dice room into the first post. Since, I have Graham and Nick's character sheets, I rolled the Perception checks for them to speed up play. Now, I really need the rest of the sheets.

The fire was mundane. You find a burned out torch among the debris. It probably started the fire when the wagon was overturned, or it could have been placed there during whatever attack had fallen upon the caravan.

Gratianus Perception: 18
Arzhel Perception: 3

The Aasimar hears footsteps approaching from the underbrush. Six figures in various armors and attire come out of the shelter among the trees. "Get out of the wagon, Gnome," says an even more rugged than normal looking dwarf with a black, unevenly trimmed beard and wild eyes. He wears ratty peasant's clothing, but carries a shield and short spear. "We would prefer to ride our plunder out of here, if you don't mind. As for your guards, tell them to stand down."

OOC: Dice room 404s for me.

Gratianus had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as he stood up from where he was crouching over the burnt-out wagon while Nerva walked over to his side. "Petty bandits misusing fire. Wonderful." Part of him wanted to turn their fire back on them, to watch them burn. He swiftly quenched that part.

OOC: What I ended up doing is breaking the link. Copy and paste the address into your browser and you'll get to where you need to. Type the name of the room into the second box and roll your dice. The room keeps a log so I'll be able to check if you've done your rolls.

OOC: Confirmed working for me.

[OOC: sorry about the long delay in posting, home environment has been very hectic as of late. I have my character sheet done up by hand, i'll scan it in and see if I can't figure a way to send it as a pdf

"Now now," Alastor said, gesturing downwards with his hands. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. You want to get away with your loot, we want to be on our merry way. Coming to blows wouldn't be good for any of us." The half-orc flashed them a brilliantly white smile before continuing, a clear and stoppered vial twirling between his fingers. "We ride on, you get your loot to safety, and none of us says a word about the other. Nice, quick, and easy."

Gratianus scowled, and Nerva growled. "Smirk. Please remind these bandits, and a few others present, what punishment Magnimar laws demand for multiple counts of murder, assault, theft, and arson."