Thread by @GoodpencilGames

Time to get this going again! You're Ruk the Ruthless, a sword wielding tengu who has come to Riddleport to join the resistance against the tyrant Grokka the Cruel! You've made 1 ally thus far in the undine warpriest, Onrendaz. Here's the original thread:

https://twitter.com/GoodpencilGames/status/906263242342895618

You make your way along a poorly lit cobblestone road near the docks. A few people seem to recognize you from your brawl with some pirates when you first arrived. They give you a wide berth. You arrive without incident at the ferry that crosses the river that spills into the bay.

Onrendaz is leading you to the Publican House, an inn where you will supposedly find your contact with the resistance. This person has been described to you as a quiet young human male with a tattoo of an eagle on the back of his neck. He works in the inn's kitchen.

After crossing the river you arrive at your destination. Light spills out from the great bay windows into the night, accompanied by raucous laughter and drunken shouting. You and the warpriest pass under a large sign with an image of a dented mug and the name "Publican House."

A large crowd of people fill the space inside, making it impossible to get anywhere in the building without bumping into numerous patrons. Most of the people in the crowd look like they would just as likely stab and rob you as they would join you in a toast.

A large man with a notched sword on his hip is working behind the bar. A tall, slender half-elf woman glides through the crowd serving drinks from a large tray. A middle aged human woman is delivering plates of roasted fowl to a table of half-orcs sitting near the entrance.

There is an open spot at the bar and a single table across the room. You see the human serving woman head past the bar and through a swinging door that seems to lead into the kitchen. What do you do?

You and your ally make your way through the busy pub, bumping into drunk patrons on your way to the kitchen. You wait for the barkeep to turn his back and make your move. A blast of warm air his your face as you enter, smothering you with the smell of roasted meats and spices.

You nearly run into the back of the server whom you followed into this small kitchen. A tall, gruff old woman with tattoos up and down her arms is chopping vegetables, and a young man drenched in sweat is removing pastries from the oven. They all turn and glare at you.

The old cook yells "no customers!" and she throws a carrot at you. "Get outta here or join the other birds in the oven, crow!" The server looks embarrassed but doesn't speak up. The young man turns and goes back to his work. You spot an eagle tattoo on the back of his neck.

Onrendaz leans over and says quietly, "Stay cool, Ruk. Back by the ovens, he fits the description, yeah?"

Do you throw an insult back at the cook, try to diffuse the situation with humor, demand to speak to the boy, or offer the cook a bribe?

You decide to try to take the cook's comment in stride and lighten things up. "Ok, but could you saute me in a cream sauce? I always wanted to be rich."

The room remains silent for a second, and the old cook stares daggers at you. But, a subtle crack in her demeanor appears, and then full on laughter. The server laughs quietly in relief, and you think you glimpse a small smile on the young man's face.

You recall the name you were given to share with your contact that will let him know you are interested in the resistance. "Look, I don't want to bother you all too much. My old friend, Dartan Grenfire, told me this place has the best grub in this gods forsaken pirate town."

The young man pauses slightly before continuing his work. You smile and say "I just wanted to ask the chef herself for her recommendation before we order."

The old woman nods, still smiling. "Alright, Feathers. You and your pal go grab a seat. Ol Nance will take care of you."

You make your way back into the crowded bar Your companion, Onrendaz, seems impressed. "Well, I knew you could fight, but I had no idea you were a comedian." Before you can respond, a flying, flailing human man slams backwards into you, knocking you down.

You sit up quickly. The man who was apparently thrown into you moans, revealing a bloody mouth with plenty of missing teeth. A bone-chilling shout comes from the center of a quickly parting crowd. A muscular, scarred, dreadlocked orc is enraged and reaching for his greataxe.

"Cheat me, will you, human? Then I'll steal your life!" The orc charges the bloodied man, who happens to still be right in top of you.

Do you roll away and mind your business, or draw your blade and protect the human?

You push off of the injured man, roll and draw your scimitar while you stand up. "Hey, ugly! Watch where you throw your humans!"

It's on! Roll initiative!

https://twitter.com/GoodpencilGames/status/1045101747981750274/photo/1

You ready your strike as the orc redirects his charge towards you. Out of the corner of your eye you see another orc slam a drink down, stand up from his table and draw two knives from his belt.

"Damn, Ruk, you sure like inserting yourself into others' business" Onrendaz says.

"That worked out in your favor last time, didn't it, my friend?" Your scimitar lashes out to strike the charging orc. Blood sprays as your blade slashes across a gap in his leather armor.

Your attack doesn't slow the orc, however, and his great axe arcs down into your own armor.

The blade of the great axe tears into your armor, drawing blood. The cut isn't bad but the pain is intense as the force of the large weapon might have broken a rib or two. "Ruk!" Your warpriest companion lashes out with his trident and drive it through his armor and into his gut.

The orc howls in pain but is not deterred. As he readies his axe to strike again, you notice movement behind you. With your attention focused on the first orc you had lost track of the other. Now he emerges from the crowd to attack Onrendaz with his daggers.

Onrendaz didn't see him either. Two daggers slash through the air. One misses but the other finds a gap in your friend's armor. Blood gushes from the wound and Onrendaz curses. He steps back quickly away from the rogue, raises his trident above his head and begins an incantation.

"Kradasei klatencho traname!" The warpriest points his trident at the orc and the assailant's face goes white. "The darkness of the deep sea will rise and choke out what light your life still bears, fool!" Overwhelmed with sudden fear, the orc scrambles past you and tries to run!

An opportunity for a quick strike on the fleeing rogue presents itself, but the pain from the last blow you took dulls your reaction and your swing goes wide. Twisting, you arc the swing of your scimitar back at your initial foe, and again your blade finds it's target.

The raging orc shrieks as blood sprays, but it doesn't stop his axe. With a downward swing the orc drives his axe into your armor once again, splitting it and slashing a huge wound along your side. The severity of the wound nearly drops you to the floor.

Your warpriest ally's eyes go wide. With another quick incantation, Onrendaz steps behind you as his hands take on a warm glow. With a touch on the back of your shoulder the light-headedness of blood loss ends. You still feel weak, but adrenaline flows, keeping you in the fight.

The pub crowd is frenzied now, screaming for blood. It will take at least a few more strikes to take the wounded orc down, but can you survive another hit from that great axe? Perhaps getting it out of his hands is the best move. Or, maybe it's time to run. #Pathfinder #DnD

The axe is a bigger threat than its owner. As he rears back to swing again you drive your shoulder into his gut and raise your scimitar, hooking the back of the blade around the axe. You then violently twist your body and yank the axe away, sending it skidding across the floor.

You hear a mixture of cheers and booing from the crowd in the tavern. Before the orc can recover from your maneuver, Onrendaz delivers a critical strike with his trident, driving it deep into the orc's midsection! The orc's scarred face twists in agony.

Wounded and enraged, the orc begins throwing wild punches at you and your companion while you and your elemental blooded companion continue your assault. The orc catches you and Onrendaz a couple times with his fists, but he is no longer a match for your weapons.

After a few more strikes from your scimitar and Onrendaz's trident, the furious orc is cut down. The crowd cheers, their bloodlust satisfied. Mugs of ale seem to appear from nowhere as onlookers reward you for the entertainment you've provided.

As the high of battle fades, however, the pain from your injuries comes back into focus. You drop to a knee, clutching your ribs. Meanwhile, Onrendaz chases off a pair of scrawny humans attempting to loot the orc's corpse. He leans down and goes through the orc's things himself.

Your warpriest companion pockets a small burlap pouch after inspecting it and hearing the clinking sound of coins. He holds a small sack up to his nose and recoils slightly. He hands it to you. "Careful with that. Tanglefoot bag. Could be useful."

Satisfied that he's found anything worthwhile, Onrendaz returns to your side. "Let's sit down and take a look at those injuries." He gestures to the table previously occupied by the orcs. "Look, some seats just opened up."

You move to the table as the crowd begins to settle a bit. "Hey!" The bartender, a bear of a man, steps out purposefully from behind the bar. "Dead orc cleanup isn't included in the price of ale." You notice his hand resting on the hilt of a notched sword hanging on his hip.

"No problem, sir!" Onrendaz produces the coin pouch he procured from the orc and pulls out two gold coins. "I believe our late friend had his funerary costs already covered." The bartender seems satisfied with this, takes the coins and yells for some employees to move the body.

"I just ask for a minute first to allow me to assist this warrior's soul as it enters the afterlife." The bartender shrugs and goes about his business. After seeing you to your seat, Onrendaz returns to the orc and kneels, placing the head of his trident flat on the orc's chest.

After a quick prayer he returns to your table. A friend of the human that was initially thrown into you helps the man up and they leave without a word. Onrendaz uses his divine magic to heal your wounds once again but you're still not fully recovered. You down two ales quickly.

After another 10 minutes or so, the human server brings a small feast to your table: fried potatoes, roasted vegetable stew, and two large roasted chickens. She seems nervous as she sets the birds down. "Er, do you crow folk eat other birds? I mean, your no bird, but sorta..."

"Don't worry, friend. I take no offense. Tengu like myself don't usually discriminate when it comes to meat. We don't think of eating chicken or turkey as cannibalism. In fact ravens are known to eat small birds at times. I bet Ol Nance had a laugh when she sent this out, eh?"

The server looks slightly relieved. "That she did. Can't stop laughing. Anyway, the meal is on the house. Those orcs you, um, took care of, they were scaring me. They were getting angrier by the minute, saying something about learning their crew was attacked in the dockway."

"Their whole crew killed by some freaks or something. I dunno. I'm just glad they're gone now. Thanks." She leaves you to eat. The food is actually very good. When you're nearly finished you see the young man with the eagle tattoo from the kitchen standing by the exit.

He's rolling a cigarette, leaning against the wall. As soon as you make eye contact he turns and walks out the door. Paid up and full of good grub, you head for the exit to speak to your contact. Outside, he's waiting one building over. When he sees you he heads around back.

You follow, wary, but you don't detect anyone else nearby. Behind the building you find him waiting for you. He seems to be very wary himself, worried about being seen talking to you. "Friends of 'Dartan,' eh? Alright, I'll listen. Who told you to seek me out?"

You tell him of a woman back home, Gladia Firewood, who told you about him and how he could get you in contact with the resistance in Riddleport. He asks why she trusted you. "She was a family friend when many humans shunned my kind. She has know me well for many years."

He quizzes you for more detail about Gladia Firewood, sometimes asking you to confirm facts about her he already knows. You answer his inquiries truthfully and in the end he seems satisfied. "Alright then. Gladia's my cousin. Did she tell you that? Well, either way you check out.

"Alright, you want to help? I've a few things you can do for us. Have you heard of Grokka's three admirals? First there is Djakkus. A fierce, dangerous brute. He leads a force of trained fighters. At sea they are quick to board their enemies ships and put their crews to death.

"Djakkus is known for his temper. He's very even keeled... Until he's not. He once crushed an allied soldier's head with his bare hands for misunderstanding a simple order.

Next is Khotawe, a devilish spellcaster. He uses all manner of tricks to confound his enemies.

"Khotawe's illusions have caused many a ship to do themselves in, crashing into rocks or allied ships and so on. He hides his small fleet outside the city. We would love to sabotage his ships, and we do have someone working on finding them. No luck there as of yet, though."

"Finally, and this is where you may come in, we have Admiral Luanna. Beautiful and pure evil. Luanna isn't quite human. Word is that she has skin covered in tiny scales, a forked tongue, eyes of gold and a poisonous kiss that kills in an instant."

"Luanna has a small squadron of three fast, black ships. Her main tactic is to stealthily approach after a battle has begun and flank her enemies. Somehow she is able to keep her ships moving quickly without setting sail. We don't know how, but we want to learn and stop them."

"We have learned that Luanna will be away from her squadron for a brief time tomorrow, and she'll have some key members of her crew with her. We want to size this opportunity and sabotage at least one of her ships. We have a crew ready to go, but they need some muscle."

"I saw what you two did to those orcs in the pub and I think you'd be a good fit. This is the most effective way you can help us fight Grokka, but it is also the most dangerous. The guard around those ships will be thinned, but those men are still well trained and well armed."

"Now, if you don't wish to take on my most dangerous offering, there are other things you can do for us. We have learned the secret of the traps and defenses surrounding one of the local crime lord's treasury. A heist could fund our operation for the foreseeable future.

"This is still dangerous, but you would be going up against a bunch of hired fighters rather than trained soldiers and assassins.

Finally there are Grokka's "gendarmes," his personal police force. These thugs terrorize the average people that live and work here in the city."

"I know the average citizen of Riddleport is no saint, but they don't deserve the treatment these bastards give em. This one's easy. Find groups of Grokka's gendarmes on the streets, take them out. Make the attacks quick, otherwise you'll surely have to deal with reenforcements."

"So, will you take the most dangerous mission, help us cripple Grokka's fleet and learn the secrets of Admiral Luanna's ships? Perhaps you'd play it a bit more safe and help us rob a crime lord? Or will it be hit and run attacks on Grokka's gendarmes?" #Pathfinder #dnd

Your feathers bristle at any suggestion that you'd shy away from danger. "I have no fear of Grokka or his admirals. We..."

Onrendaz interjects. "Ruk, just a second." He turns to address your contact. "Now, just which of the city's crime lords do you happen to be referring too?"

The young cook with the eagle tattoo raises an eyebrow. "If it matters, Clegg Zincher is our target."

Your undine warpriest ally cracks a thin, devious smile, but you can see a hint of fury in his eyes. "Ruk, this is the job we need to take. Please."

You are taken aback by Onrendaz's request. "Um, sure, as long as we are still helping the cause." Before digging for info you decide to let your ally choose when to share. You've known him now for only a half a day, but he proved he has your back when you fought the orcs.

The cook shrugs. "Fear not, my feathered friend. This heist will still be a great help in stopping Grokka, even if it is less direct than sabotaging Luanna's ships. Not all of our assets' motives are virtuous. It takes gold to obtain their services."

The young cook quickly waves his unlit, rolled smoke in the air. "Well, it's very late, I need a spark and you two look like you need rest. Tomorrow afternoon, be at the Muddy Bucket, a tavern in the Leeward District. Your new contact will find you. Glad to have you on board."

You are exhausted. Onrendaz leads you back to the building he lives in and you rent a room above his on the third floor. The building has an odd odor and rats are abundant, but the bed is comfortable and sleep hits you like a hammer. Well before dawn, however, a noise wakes you.

As you sit up and look around you hear a crashing sound from within your room. The bit of moonlight reaching through the shuttered window isn't enough to help you see what's going on, even with your superior vision in low light. You reach for your bandolier, next to your bed.

From the bandolier you grab your dagger and a thin wand carved from blonde wood and studded with small quartz gems. You raise the wand and speak, "Niteru." A moment passes... nothing. You're reminded that even with all the practice you've put in, you're not a natural with magic.

Once again, "Niteru!" The darkness in the room evaporates as four motes of light appear. Nice. In the morning you'll have to add to your journal that you got the wand to work on only your second try this time. Now though, you look to the corner from which you heard the crash.

Most of your gear, which had been neatly stacked against the wall in the corner, has been knocked over. Your backpack is where you left it, but lying on top is a large, rotund, white cat. Although the creature seems relaxed, all of its fur is oddly standing on end.

The cat lazily watches the dancing lights but doesn't seem up for chasing after anything. It certainly doesn't seem interested in you.

So, what now? #Pathfinder #DnD

You stand up and move towards the cat, palm flat out. Then the cat speaks. "Oh, please don't. Thank you."

#initfic

"Ok... this is some sort of strange dream" you mumble to yourself.

The cat rolls on to its back, paws in the air. "So, even in dreams you would be so rude to your guests that you don't offer them anything?"

"Oh, um, can I get you anything? I have some dried fish" you say.

The strange cat stretches. "That would be fine, thank you."

You get the cat the food and it hops to its feet. It purrs as it starts eating.

#intfic #Pathfinder

The cat gobbles up the rest of the dried fish, lies back down on your gear and begins to groom itself while speaking to you. “Hmm, much better. Politeness will make working together much more pleasant.”

"...

#IntFic #Pathfinder

After a long stretch the cat looks very relaxed, but its fur is still weirdly standing on end. "First, this mission you have with the resistance, the heist of Clegg Zincher's treasury? Since you'll be there already, there's something there I need you to bring to me."

#IntFic

The cat raises its head and looks you right in the eye. "You'll earn an alliance with me, of course." It stands up, moves a bit closer and sits down facing you. "You have a singular focus now to take down Grokka the Cruel. And down he will go, as sure as the sun rises and sets."

"But vengeance is limiting your vision. What do you think will happen once the self proclaimed pirate king is dead or imprisoned? Will you leave the city to fall into chaos? The crime lords of the city will fight for control and the bloodshed will get worse. Innocents will die."

"And you are not one to sit by while others suffer. You proved that when you defended the man in The Publican, and before when you assisted the warpriest." The cat flashes what could be a smile. "By allying with me, you can help to quell the chaos once Grokka is gone." #IntFic

You're sure you're not dreaming now, and you're put on edge by how much this cat knows about you. You tense up. "How long have you been watching me?! And why?!"

The cat tilts its head. "Are you really so surprised?" It stretches and begins to pace lazily across the room.

The cat continues. "You drew plenty of attention to yourself fighting off the press-gang when you first arrived in town. You even shouted your name for all on the docks to hear! What was it... 'Death awaits all who would test Ruk the Ruthless' or something along those lines?"

The cat hops onto the nightstand so that it is eye-level with you and looks you right in the eye. "So, Ruk, what will it be? I can't hang around here all night. Are we going to work together or not? Say yes and you'll be a hero before we're through."

#intfic #cyoa #Pathfinder

After a long pause you respond. "I must have lost my mind, but for some reason I feel like I should trust you." You close your eyes and place the palm of your hand on your forehead. "Ok, I'll help."

The cat raises its head high. "Excellent! You've made a wise decision!"

#intfic

The cat hops off of the nightstand and walks towards the door. It stops, turns to face you and sits. "In Zincher's vault you'll find that it's mostly filled with gold, jewels, and finely made weaponry. You'll secure a nice haul for the resistance. What I need, however, is a map."

The creature continues. "To Zincher the map is meaningless. He keeps it because of the case that it's stored in. A finely made leather affair, studded with valuable gems and trimmed with gold." It turns back to the door. "Keep the case for your cause. I only care about the map."

"Bring the map here, and I'll try to return shortly after. I'm very pleased you've decided to help me with this, Ruk." Suddenly, the cat's fur that has strangely been standing on end this entire time relaxes. The animal looks around and seems confused. "Meow?" #intfic #Pathfinder

"Huh... oh kayy..." You go to the door and the cat is looking at you warily. As you open the door you hear a voice from the hallway.

"Chunk? Chunk, where did you get off to?" It's Taehlan, friend of your warpriest ally, Orendaz. The cat bolts out of the room toward the voice.

"There you are! How did you get out of the room?" The rotund man notices you standing at the door of your rented room. "Oh! I'm sorry, Ruk, we didn't wake you, did we? Chunk here is usually keen to lie around the apartment, but every once in a while he gets a bit mischievous."

For a moment you consider asking Taehlan about your encounter with Chunk the cat. Your intuition tells you, however, that he has no clue who or why someone seemingly took control of and spoke through the cat to you. Perhaps Orendaz knows something. You can ask him in the morning.

"Yes, but it's not a problem, Taehlan. Good night." You return to bed, but sleep alludes you for the rest of the night.

In the morning you meet up with Orendaz and Taehlan in the common area of the apartment building. Taehlan runs off to fetch some breakfast for everyone.

Thinking about your encounter with Chunk, and how its fur stood on end while it spoke even though it was relaxed, something Orendaz said the previous day comes back to you. When Taehlan split off from the group to go feed Chunk, Orendaz described the cat as resembling a blowfish.

"Taehlan's cat got into my room somehow last night. Its hair was standing on end as you described, like a blowfish."

Orendaz, preparing his daily prayers, shrugs. "Yeah, Chunk's a funny looking thing." He reaction doesn't suggest that he knows anything more.

#IntFic #Pathfinder

You eye your companion suspiciously. You have only known him for a day, after all. "Yes, but it's strange, right? That little thing, looking as relaxed as possible, except its fur. Then, it's flat again. C,mon, Orendaz, you must know something more about why it's like that."

The warpriest looks up at you, annoyed. "What? I'm not some kind of feline doctor? Why would I know?"

You don't let up. "You've been friends with Taehlan for a while, right? He hasn't told you more about it? And surely you've seen the little creature do strange things!?"

Orendaz's finned ears flare out. "What's gotten into you, Ruk? Why are you so damn obsessed with Taehlan's cat? It's just a stray he picked up right after we met. Right after we got back to port in fact. Yes, it's weird, but so what?! Now leave me alone so I can pray!"

You realize the warpriest is done speaking to you, annoyed that you're keeping him from his daily prayer ritual. Maybe you should have just told him about the cat talking to you, but now it'll be best to wait until he's done. You go to find a spot to sharpen your blades. #intfic

You remember spotting a small green space just down the road between a pair of run down taverns. Calling it serene would be generous, but perhaps even a bit of nature would help you to gather your thoughts. You collect your sword and bandolier from your room, and then head out.

A stubborn fog clings to the buildings of the wharf district as you step out onto the broken cobblestone road. Gone is the night's cacophony of rum and blood fueled mayhem. Instead, individual sounds of rusty wagon wheels, creaking ships and barked orders all have their moment.

The block is quietly active as business owners prepare for the day. A young, relatively thin dwarf is sweeping up broken glass outside a run-down tavern as you pass. Across the road a bookish, bedraggled woman is re-painting a sign to a tincture shop. Most pay you no mind.

You arrive at your destination. A finely dressed, muscular half-orc is sitting out front of well maintained tattoo parlor next to the overgrown, vacant lot. He eyes you suspiciously as you find a spot to sit and sharpen your scimitar and daggers.

#intfic #pathfinder #dnd #cyoa

Alongside the peeling paint and crumbling bricks plaguing most buildings in this area, the large, crystal clear glass windows of the tattoo parlor stand out. "It's as if it were lifted from Magnimar's Alabaster District and dropped here. Are you the proprietor?"

The half-orc raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, this is my place. You looking to get some ink? I don't get a lot of tengu in here, what with all your feathers. But I've done a few. Mostly ankles." He takes a long drink from a steaming mug. "I have also once done a beak."

#intfic #cyoa

"A beak!?"

The half-orc shrugs his large shoulders. "It was more of an engraving."

"That is so... I can't imagine how big of a moron they must have been. You carve into a beak and it's liable to crack. You ever met a tengu missing part of their beak? It's just damn awful."

The tattoo artist chuckles. "It's true, he was quite an idiot. And I have seen tengu with damaged beaks. Horrible way to live. But, I assure you, I used only the finest tools and carved no deeper than the width of a horse hair. Actually it was some of my finest work, in the end."

You shake your head. "The goddess Shelyn herself could offer to tattoo my beak and yet I'd decline." You begin sharpening your scimitar, but after a moment you pause. You realize the fog has dissipated during your conversation as sunlight glimmers off of the finely crafted steel.

You look up and take in the sudden, fleeting beauty of your surroundings. The sun, filtered by the dissipating fog, brings the colors of the greenery to life. Shadows of the plant life fall on the ruined foundation of the building that previously occupied this lot. "Hmm..."

Perhaps it was the thought of the goddess of art, beauty and love that inspired you. Or maybe Shelyn herself heard you speak her name and blessed you with a moment of beauty to influence you. Either way, you've decided. "You know what, I do want a tattoo from you."

#IntFic #cyoa