Pathfinder Chronicles: Earthlings in Golarion IC [Mythic Metagamers]

[Albertus Magus]

Pathfinder Chronicles: Earthlings in Golarion
or Mythic Metagamers
https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/005/956/754/large/anthony-avon-ruby-islands.jpg?1494977588 (https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/005/956/754/large/anthony-avon-ruby-islands.jpg?1494977588)

A short time ago, in a place nearby, a few ordinary humans were going about their daily lives...until a strange cosmic hiccup transported them from Earth to Golarion. Given their unusual knowledge and abilities, can they survive the dangers of this fantastic place until they find a way back or claim their own place in this world?


================================================== =========

You are a quite ordinary human, who somehow ends up -bodily- on Golarion; stranded on a volcanic island with a small village of superstitious people who enacted some weird ritual. Just as you arrived, a different volcano in some distance erupted, showing you this spectacle (http://i.imgur.com/jPMUjnx.png).

================================================== =========

Somewhere on the vast, blue expanse of water between Arcadia and Avistan, there was a small group of volcanic islands which experienced a rather eventful day...

"Kil'garuhs has been grumbling for days now, chieftain. Shouldn't we seek shelter?"
"It is the middle of the night, chieftain - Precisely, M'bongo."
"The moon isn't even full, chieftain."
"Do we have to do this silly dance, chieftain? The weird song is bad enough, but..."
"Shut up and chant!"

A mysterious group of people was assembled at the shore of a particular island in the dim light of a not-quite-full moon, wearing wooden masks, bearing very long torches and stopping their chanting at times to complain in subdued voices at their chieftain, the leader of the ritual they were conducting.

Five overlapping circles had been carved into the sand, a few coconuts placed inside as sacrificial offering as the never-ending chant of "Ba-doum, Ba-doum, Ba-du-badubadubadoum" (http://vocaroo.com/i/s1gK3k3F7xXd) disrupted the peaceful crashing of the waves against the shore...

Hours passed. The cultists grew more impatient, their whining became more insistent, and their chieftain seemed almost convinced as a cloud obscured the moon briefly and the five circles were cast in shadow. Distantly, a volcano rumbled and rain began to fall...

"The lines will be destroyed by the weather! Quickly, chieftain, we have to give up and seek shelter!"

The brief elation of the cultists was disrupted by a flash of lightning which momentarily blinded them...as their vision cleared, the circles in the sand were no longer empty, and with a terrible fury, Kil'garuhs erupted a few dozen miles away, spending its rage against the heavens in a massive spectacle of lava, smoke and lightning (http://i.imgur.com/jPMUjnx.png).

Useful(?) Questions you could answer with your first IC post:
*What is your character's first impression of the "crossover"? Sleepy Disbelief? Shock? "Oh look, what an interesting dream?"
*What is in the fifth circle? Some other person/NPC/Kvard51's dog?
*Your character is flooded with instinctive, subconscious knowledge of their mythic & Pathfinder abilities: How do you discover them, how do you react to having access to such skills/powers?
http://img4web.com/i/6I5GB.png

[The Glyphstone]

Jose staggered, thrown off-balance by the sudden canceling of all the momentum he had built up going through the backstage door, and almost toppled over. Once his head had stopped spinning, he opened his eyes again only to nearly fall over a second time from shock.

"Dios mío, ave maria..."

This...was not the main arena of the San Antonio Sports Center. At least, not unless they had invested in some pretty serious remodeling since he had gone in to change for the match. Brow furrowed and adrenaline surging, Jose quickly went over the possibilities that came to mind.

-He was hallucinating, some sort of spontaneous drug trip. Mike was almost as much of a jerk as his character, but even he wouldn't stoop to spiking someone's drink. Besides, all the beer had been in cans, and Jose would have noticed the effects well before now. So that was out.

-He was dead, having tripped and broken his neck coming out of the door. That would be embarrassing in front of a packed audience, except he was pretty sure Heaven wasn't supposed to be a tropical island beach (certainly not one devoid of pretty girls in bikinis offering fruity drinks). And Saint Peter definitely wasn't supposed to be a wrinkly old man in a wooden voodoo mask.

-He had been abducted by aliens, and was about to be experimented on and/or probed in uncomfortable places. Jose had never really believed in aliens, but then again most of the people who claimed to have been abducted didn't believe in them beforehand either. That, and the people looked like humans.

Having eliminated reality, religion, and science fiction in descending order of probability, though, Jose was now out of potential theories as to what the heck had happened. It all certainly felt and looked and sounded real, at least. And for some reason, he had an overpowering urge to quote The Matrix with regards to suddenly knowing kung fu.

[Kvard51]

Joe Red Cloud was feeling pretty good. But then, he always felt good when he was on his bike with Marko in the side car. It was always a bit if a surprise when he woke up and realized he wasn't in a combat zone.

This morning, he had decided to ride down out of his camp at the base of the Black Hills and hit the Rez for some supplies. He was almost out of dog food, and while Marko would happily eat anything he supplied, Joe liked to feed him a high quality food, to keep up with his needs as an active and aging dog.

So far, it was shaping up to be a beautiful morning. The sun was just peeking over one of the foothills, spreading a pink/orange glow low in the sky, and the smell of pine was strong in the crisp, fall air.

And then there was a brilliant flash of light, like lightning had struck the road in front of him. Momentarily blinded, Joe fought to keep the Blackie upright. As he slid to a stop, his vision started to return. But he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating, or what. He jumped off the bike, landing in soft sand. "Marko, heel!", he said, as his hand sought his Glock. He felt rather than saw the German Shepherd spring to his side. But he discarded the sensation and focused on the danger at hand.
I'll figure that out if we survive this encounter

Dropping into a crouch, he lined up the Glock, aiming at the big man with the crazy mask on, and waited to see what was going on...

[Elfbird]

A figure covered head to toe in steel armor stumbles in the sand, leaning heavily on the banner-pole clasped in their clamshell gauntlet. At the top of the pole, a blue rose on a white field snaps in the volcanic wind.
They simply stand there for a moment, heavy breathing gradually returning to normal. With their head lowered, the helmet probably doesn't offer much of a view of the scene.

Damn... guess I did pass out. At least this air feels good. Someone'll find me soon...

Some vitality restored, the figure pulls off their left gauntlet - right still holding the banner for support - and then peels the helmet off and drops it in the sand, revealing long blonde (and very, very sweaty) hair and the face of a young woman.

Now able to see properly, she processes things in approximately the order of: screaming man > man with gun > voodoo people > man with gun > masked wrestler > man with gun and German Shepherd > apocalyptic scene on the horizon > looming heatstroke > man with gun who is not actively shooting yet.
(The idea that this was a dream may have nestled itself somewhere in her subconscious, but as with most dreams, it's not something you really acknowledge until after the fact.)
Being a language teacher hadn't prepared her to deal with most of these things, and her knowledge from the SCA was showing some serious gaps at the moment too. With any luck, the one thing she could address might also derail the part that had her terrified right now.

"Um... excuse me. Anyone have something to drink?"

It was a pretty easy question, so why did the words sound so strange coming from her mouth? Yet it also didn't feel like she had misspoken.
Well, the reactions of the people around her would make it clear soon enough. Better not to get carried away practicing languages until after the man put the gun away.

[Albertus Magus]

Nature's wrath can be terrible and awesome to behold
- with the proper lighting conditions or night-vision equipment, that is. Unfortunately, nothing of the sort was present here, only a few confused people, flickering torchlight, with Kil'garuhs, the mighty volcano, doing its very best to appear relevant and impressive instead of serving as dramatic backdrop to the main characters who conveniently appeared in neatly delineated circles in the sand.
The ocean's waves continued to crash against the shore in their steady rhythm, and the cultists with long torches & masks appeared frozen in shock & surprise that whatever they had been doing *actually worked*. Only one of them - his wooden mask was particularly intricate and ornated with a few colorful feathers - was giving a very smug impression instead, obviously trying his very best to refrain from exclaiming "I told you so".


The new arrivals on this island weren't masked - except for one that was wearing a wrestler's costume, a green-and-gold mask covering his entire head with openings for his eyes, nose & mouth. Some of them immediately struck a certain pose and shouted or talked in a language alien to the native cultists...

The lanky young man with a set of rather impressive lungs seemed content with general, inarticulate yelling - an excellent reaction given a completely confusing situation, if a bit bland.

The masked wrestler remained silent, but his pose was not only reflexive, it also seemed to intimidate the masked cultists the most - they tried to subtly edge away from *his* circle as they were torn between playing possum or running away.

The knight - which soon revealed herself to be a woman appeared somewhat clumsy, but surveyed the scene before asking a question.

The man atop a black, wheeled machine with a large dog at his side swiftly jumped into the sand and barked a short, sharp command before drawing some sort of weapon and pointing it at the cultists.

The fifth circle contained a blurry, vaguely humanoid figure wearing a black, cowled cape that was busy cowering, his face looking at the ground...


as suddenly, a cloud of misty vapour appeared around him, quickly obscuring the newly arrived people from the cultists and vice versa.

The effect is an SLA: Obscuring Mist (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/o/obscuring-mist).

Useful(?) Questions you could answer with your second IC post:
*Your character is in a completely unfamiliar situation, further complicated by other people yelling and pointing guns. While the Obscuring mist is larger than shown in the map - it encompasses all five circles - and thankfully hides everything from view, you have now time to think, duck, hide...or do you take another option?
*If you manage the spellcraft check, you also know that magic apparently exists and works. Some of you instinctively know how to cast spells themselves - a tidbit of information that becomes immediately important in this case. Do you try to do so? Some others know about "concentration checks" and "AoOs provoked by spellcasting". Do you leverage this knowledge to try and tackle the chief cultist or anyone else vaguely looking like a mage?
*Diplomacy, and language, it exists! Do you attempt to TALK, now that the mist complicates immediate violence?
*Do you attempt to break through the circle of cultists with a burst of speed - perhaps enhanced by mythic abilities - and simply run away to plan and consider the situation from a better angle?
http://i.imgur.com/OZW5tcc.png

[Elfbird]

Alyssa sucks in a surprised breath as the deep fog surges forth from the huddled cloak. The mist, at least, is incredibly refreshing - if not quite the drink she'd hoped for - and the shout through the fog renews her resolve. It was time to be a Teacher-Knight*, leader and champion of her people in time of crisis!
*The title of Teacher-Knight exists only in Alyssa's overworked, under-pressure imagination. Just go with it.

She projects her voice into the fog, casting it so that it isn't a shout yet carries calmly and confidently over field and hall. English is her language of choice, in response to the other man's words, though it may or may not come out as intended...

"Sir! Everyone! Please remain calm! I'm here to help! Follow my voice through the fog! If you're hurt, say so and I'll walk to you! Everything will be okay, just stay calm and wait!"

She'll continue calling such placating phrases until interrupted or they become unnecessary. She's particularly focused on Lex, since he seems most distressed and easiest to locate by sound. Not having anyone shoot, bite, piledrive, staff-bash, magick, or ritually sacrifice anyone else right now would be ideal though.

No Spellcraft training, so can't roll that (I think).

Diplomacy: [roll0]
(To try to seize control of the situation as above)

Mythic Surge: [roll1]
(Add to Diplomacy regardless of roll; there's no kill like overkill!)

Linguistics: [roll2]
(To try to convey her intentions clearly to everyone, and/or not muddle her Earth and Golarion languages too badly)

Sense Motive: [roll3]
(To try to read the atmosphere, especially the voodoofolk's audible reactions to all the nonsense of the past few minutes)

GM can go ahead roll anything else appropriate to the situation as it stands.

[The Glyphstone]

The sudden eruption of fog did nothing to settle José's nerves, or give any clue as to what was going on. He'd only gotten the briefest glimpse of the people occupying the other circles before his vision was cut off, but none of them had seemed to be even better clued in on the situation. Even the...locals? natives? whoever they were, the people outside the carved circles - didn't seem to be in control of the situation.

The woman's voice, though, told a different story. That was authority, someone who knew how to be in charge. José was old and wise enough - at all of his ancient maturity of twenty-five, albeit - to recognize that sticking to someone in control was always better than haring off by yourself, even if that someone was female. No bullheaded Latin machismo for him, at least not right now.

"Aye, señora. I can hear you." Off to his left, it sounded like. Carefully, he stepped out over the circle, half-expecting something to block his passage without understanding why he thought that would happen.


Sense Motive to judge the moods of other people around: [roll0]

Take 10 on Acrobatics to keep his balance on the sand while blinded, total of 16.

[Kvard51]

As heavy mist settles over everything, obscuring his sight, Joe quickly assesses what he saw of the battlefield and makes a snap decision. No way to know how long this mist will last, so this looks like a good time to bug out. Feeling his way back to his bike, he grabs his pack out of the saddlebag, takes the key, and takes off at t trot to the south, angling east after thirty feet. Marko,, following the last command he was given, is right on his heels.

Joe is hoping that even if he runs into one of the men in the circle,
that the element of surprise will allow him to break through without being injured or captured.

[Albertus Magus]

Sensory deprivation – optionally caused by the sudden appearance of magical, refreshing fog – can have calming properties in a chaotic & confusing situation.

The five new arrivals on the shore of M'bongo's, his boss's and his cultist colleagues' island-home continued to react to their sudden displacement, but in a more organized and constructive manner than mere moments before. A strong voice called through the mist, proclaiming safety, help, and general control of the situation in various languages, some of them familiar, some unfamiliar to the native ritualists who had arranged this auspicious meeting on a cloudy, rainy night.

A deeper voice answered briefly, while another voice ceased to yell and suddenly, a man and his dog burst from the fog and dashed south, then suddenly changed direction to break through the circle of cultists and escape to the east, swiftly putting some distance between himself and the group.

The fog lifted after a minute, and as if on cue, the cultists spotted something troubling and began to scatter, some hiding behind their chief with the feathery mask, some content to simply run away in various directions, all of them pointedly ignoring the man & his dog – that one was probably much too dangerous for hobby-cultists such as them to mess with. Everyone knew that whenever you summoned something from beyond and it managed to escape the circle, you had to flee as fast as possible, lest you be killed by the horror you called.

The more immediate concern of the cultists seemed to be something else entirely, though - a strange, silvery "spotlight" appeared on the ocean and moved steadily towards the shore, the water evaporating where it appeared and briefly revealing a pillar of silvery light reaching down through a gap in the clouds.

Three of the new arrivals were standing close together: the lady knight, the masked wrestler and a young man with a walking stick.
The crouching, cloaked guy from before was nowhere to be seen...but a tiny bat was flying over the ocean, unwittingly heading towards the spotlight that was coming closer every moment...

You get a hunch that the cultists are surprised and wary. Suddenly, they seem to be very afraid of the spotlight. The other people in the circle seem mostly confused.

Your Diplomacy seems to have a calming effect on everyone.

You get a hunch that the cultists are surprised and wary.


Useful(?) Questions you could answer with your third IC post:
*Your character has had ~ 1 minute to come to grips with the situation that he/she's not in Kansas anymore. You can hear sounds, feel the rain on your skin, the sand crunching under your feet, and the initial shock & confusion has probably worn off by now. Given that you are in a strange & new place, you're probably glad to hear some familiar words and thus may unconsciously associate with the "Teacher-Knight" who apparently knows what she's doing.

=> Congratulations! You've completed 75% of the first Task: Form a party!


*There's a bike standing around, cultists apparently afraid (of you? of something else?), many tracks covering the sand with all the running around of various people, and a weird spotlight with ~ 3 meters diameter coming closer at ~ 20ft / turn. You could try to move the bike or wait and see what happens if the spotlight gets to it in ~ 12 seconds.

*There is a bat flying around, and the cloaked dude is gone. Somehow, you think this may be connected...too bad the bat will reach the spotlight - or vice versa - in about 6 seconds.

*The man with a dog has decided that discretion is the better part of valor and managed to escape -> how do you react to this?
In case you "are" the man with a dog - how long do you run, what distance seems safe?
After ~ 500 metres, you reach brush - opportunities to hide! - and can spot tropical forest half a mile away.

http://i.imgur.com/9tf0qT1.png

[Elfbird]

Making yet another snap decision based on prevailing circumstances, Alyssa raises her banner and calls out "With me! Everyone, follow me!" before leading a charge to the south-east, angling between the fleeing gunman and the cultist chief's group.
If Lex doesn't get in gear fast enough, Alyssa will put an arm around his shoulders and half-shove-half-support him in moving the intended direction before the spotlight reaches them.
She's hoping that passing close-but-not-into the clustered cultists will sweep them up in their orbit, though she won't force them to act against their better judgment - they're the natives in this crazy dream, after all.

We shouldn't get separated in a panic, but scared people do reckless things. Let's try to stay near that man without chasing him down. If we can get some of these islanders to follow us to safety, maybe we can communicate when the bloody world isn't exploding around us!

She'll probably stop at the brushline to reassess the situation - ideally being out of the spotlight's path, possibly surrounded by groveling voodoo people, and with a gunman and his dog at a comfortable distance and not aiming in their direction.

Her shed helmet and left gauntlet lie forgotten in the sand where she dropped them. Getting herself and the people who'd suddenly come to rely on her out of the apparently-dangerous spotlight's path seemed rather more important than a stopping to grab a couple pieces of armor, however fond she might be of them. If she's lucky, maybe they'll be unharmed or enchanted rather than vaporized. If not, well... she'll wake up in the chirurgeon's tent soon enough.

[Kvard51]

Breaking through the cultists, Joe sprints toward the brush line he saw before the mist fell. As soon as he feels the limbs pulling at his sleeves, he turns left and begins searching for a draw or ravine. Dropping into the first depression he finds, he goes still, using the skills learned on the reservation and honed in Iraq and Afghanistan to hide. Telling Marko to "Stay!", he peers out of his hiding spot just as the mist burns away.

"What in blue hell are they doing?!" he hisses, seeing the others from the circles running his way. He keeps his Glock trained on the leader, a... woman... in armor, and waits for what comes next...

[The Glyphstone]

Whatever was going on, Jose had to accept for the moment that it was real - or at least as real as he could get for the moment. It was weird, sure, and getting weirder by the second. Seeing the hooded figure disappear and a flying bat appear brought him to think of the old Hammer Horror Dracula movies, but that glowing white circle was drawing closer and looking at it gave him a very bad feeling he couldn't explain. The armored woman still seemed to have the best idea of how to respond, though, so he kept pace with her as they retreated southeast away from the circles and the light.

[Elfbird]

"Away from that light!" Alyssa calls back to Lex. "The tribespeople are afraid of it, so for now we should be too!"

Alyssa will keep aiming for the southeastern brushline, until she can safely plant her banner as a rallying point and turn to evaluate the situation with the bat, light, and bike. Keeping track of Joe would be a bonus - the only other stranger to this island - but Alyssa's not gonna risk upsetting him further just to chase him across the island.

Perception: [roll0]
(To keep an eye on the gunman and/or his dog as they disappear into the foliage)

Diplomacy: [roll1]
(To move her group close to the chief's bubble without driving them off; safety in numbers, right?)