“And yet, he still seems intent on going,” Merinde said.
“You mistake my meaning,” Anibel replied, “It’s the place, not the act. The Seeming is madness.”
Merinde raised her hand with deliberate care, and both Halflings chuckled in spite of the somber topic. They looked to each other, and Gerard swept an arm forward for Anibel to do the honors. Continue reading
The risk was too great. The flailing couple had fallen at the corner. At her best, Lydia might have been able to clear the distance needed to reach the greenhouse door. If she missed, they were all casualties. She knifed sideways into the short aisle between the main aisles, her sneaker finding solid purchase on the moist walkway.
She hazarded a look over her shoulder. The killer was coming. Her mind rebelled at the notion, but that’s what he was. A knife-wielding, blood covered killer. Where had her dull reality gone? She had gained a few feet on him as he advanced with casual purpose.
The fox and the hound zipped across her mind as she planted to make the next ninety degree zag, praying her knee would hold. Continue reading
From his position some distance away, Kurn missed the exchange between Erellia and Zulian but noted Zulian’s route away from the the rest of the party. Kurn threw Erellia a questioning glance and nudged his own horse to angle off in the same direction, trailing back from Zulian but closing the distance.
Erellia guided her horse into a canter to close the distance between herself and Kurn. “There is no need for you to follow her, Kurn. She is only ghosting Daroun for a short while to insure there are no hunters following him. She will rejoin us before long.”
Erellia turned her mount in the direction of the slowly moving train and as an afterthought said with a smile, “Plus, I don’t
believe you could follow her. She’s very good at what she does.” She then began making her way back toward the others. Continue reading
I have been playing the rat snot out of the Pathfinder Adventure Card Game of late. I tend to run in jags over the ten months I’ve owned it. That largely has to do with the maintenance of the box of cards. Ideally you gather with a group of friends and play the game through without backtracking in the story or running multiple characters at different times. Ideally.
I’ve played nine of the eleven characters thus far in various combos of solo, duo and trio. Running a whole party would tickle me silly, but the logistics of physical card management make that a challenging notion. I’ve had the good fortune of running games of 4-6 people here and there, and the play suffers only a little lag depending on player experience and investment. But I digress, the biggest time sink for me comes from retooling the box to a state of play for newer characters. Sift all the cards out, and eventually shuffle them back in. Rinse and repeat as often as you like.
Plus, I’m a sleever. One card, one sleeve. Very simple. The plastic tray insert designed by Paizo is awesome, but it is designed to hold UNsleeved cards. A quick internet search revealed this very clean divider for the box. I struck out to accomplish something similar with that uber-versatile substance. Cardboard. An hour or two with a box cutter and voilà.
Sleeved card storage for the manic card shuffler.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I just finished a box three run with three characters, and I need to reshuffle the works for a new crew of adventurers.
Ipsen Garr lost both legs above the knee to a savage sea shark. Forward spotter on the Waveskimmer, the ill-fated Human had served nobly aboard the fishing vessel for years before crossing paths with the beast known as Tur T’tumic, Sea Bastard in the native tongue.
Dangling from the prow with his seer’s glass at hand, Ipsen’s life changed when the legendary creature took the battle to the shark hunters. Ipsen was the first casualty, a vast majority of the prow vanishing along with his lower appendages. Only the quick action of the resident cleric stemmed the gush of blood onto the ragged deck as the wounded man swung from his harness.
The Waveskimmer went to the bottom that day, and Tur T’tumic owned the waters each day forth. Continue reading
The pair of sailors coiled and spun in the rushing descent. Aiming for a racing island in the distance, neither could gain a significant upper hand in the grapple, but each knew the only chance for survival was using the other to absorb the brunt of an island impact. No one returned from the mantle.
“Your deat–” Lord Kremm started to say when Jorey struck.
She knew the pompous ass would open his blowhole before they crashed. He couldn’t not. It was his nature. When the right syllable came, she hammered an elbow into his jaw. She didn’t see the tip of his tongue disappear as his teeth sheared it off, but the spray of blood was indicative. Continue reading