First Strps, Part I
In Service To Lore
Pathfinders are part archaeologist, part historian, and all adventurer. Many established Pathfinders make their own way in the world, following their interests or tracking down leads to greater mysteries. These established few are still subject to orders from their superiors, but the least prestigious tasks are usually reserved for those new to the organization. The Society is governed by the Decemvirate, 10 anonymous leaders who pull strings and guide the organization from Skyreach in the Grand Lodge of Absalom. They hand down orders from their secret posts to venture-captains, who in turn pass the orders to field agents.
You have all been summoned by personal invitation to join the chamberlain in his private office at first light. As each of you arrive you are welcomed by a curt nod from Valsin *image*. and motioned to a simple table with fruits, pastries, breakfast meats and beverages. You know from his demeanor that he expects each of you introduce your selves so his time is not spent on such apropos.
Appearance: A short boy looking like an early teen dashes constantly around. His brown hair is vainly corralled by a ponytail that whips from shoulder to shoulder, an errant bang always falls out, often on the right side of his face. His brown hair, bronze tanned skin, and amber eyes betray his Taldorian heritage. He is wearing the two toned leather jacket favored by the Absalom militia scouts with matching leather breaches. Study leather hiking boots, very clean and buffed but showing unmistakable signs of use, clad his ever moving feet. A dark blue cloak with maroon trim is matched by a pouch at his belt. The belt has matching blue knot-work on a base of golden hued leather, that supports a small brown sheath out of which sprouts a silver-white leather wrapped handle of a dagger. At a second glance, a close look at his eyes cause a revision of age to late teenager with height challenges. His moods bounce from excessively merry to slightly morose.
A repeat pic from the discussion thread.
Picture of Volta Delbove
A young lad, the top of whose head barely reaches Uraisa's chin, bursts into the room. He snaps a perfect crisp salute to the Venture-Captain that is ruined by the terrible slouch of ever changing posture that Volta is in. "Reporting in Captain, my kit's in the stable area, a little birdie told be you have a great group here, - a ... well I guess it will be here soon right?" Volta bounds over the the breakfast table and starts sampling everything.
As other recruits file in, Volta races over to greet them, repeating himself as often as necessary, or more often. "Hi, I'm Volta Delbove, yes I'm her son. What's your name? I'm a scout with the Absalom militia until a few weeks ago. I am also good with locks and traps. Not as good as Mom of course, but I'll get there someday soon, mark by words. Anything else you want to know just ask, I'm an open book." Volta finally takes a deep breath, allowing others to respond or talk or just recover from the onslaught.
At the start of the third round of introductions by Volta, the Venture-Captain barks out,
Speak less. Say more! in a softer tone. Your amoung friends son. Relax.
speaking softly to one one in particulat.
must be a family trait. His mother started out the same way. Oy.
Aryllan Lanliss gracefully walks into the office and looks around. She watches as Volta comes up and intrudes himself.
Nice to see you again. I am Aryllan. That is all good information to know.
Aryllan moves into the office and looks around. Venture-Captain she gives Valsin a nod and stands off to one side of the office - closest to any windows that may be there.
Eager Lad she thinks to herself.
Here is what I imagine Aryllan to look like. It is a photo I like from a paizo web fiction story.
A petite human female enters the room, much quieter than the fidgety male. Her large dark brown eyes took in the happenings of the room. She nods toward the others in the room, before quickly filling her plate with fruit, and taking a seat while the others gathered about the table.
As she began picking at the fruit, she greeted the others. "Greetings lady and gentlemen, I am Uraisa Ellsworth. Unlike our friend Volta, I don't have any famous relatives, at least that I know of", she notes, as she pulled a piece of parchment and scribbled down the names of both Volta and Kale Delbove. Can manual dexterity be passed from mother to son? she wrote in the note.
"I can perform some minor magicks, mostly water based. I can summon a few minor animals for a short period of time as well." After the quick biography, she again picks at her plate, waiting for the others to chime in.
A clatter from the entrance draws everyone's attention.
A battered spearhead pokes its way through the door, followed by a weatherbeaten hat, upon the head of a travel worn dwarf.
Standing before you is a dwarf of middling stature, covered in trail dust and dripping sweat. His wild brown beard frames his face, which is tanned and lined with creases, a huge birthmark in the shape of a butterfly adorning one cheek. He leans his massive spear against the wall, drops his pack to the floor, followed by his brownish gray cloak and hat and says:
"'ello all! Baladur Farwander, at yer service and that o' Desna's. 'ope i'm not late, I made good trail time today from the Kortos Mountains but I had a wee bit of a scrape with some minotaurs tha' lair near the trail on me way down. Lucky I had a keg o' good dwarven stout, that distracted 'em enough for me to get away. On the bright side I placed me found-mark on the 'ighest peak this side o' the mountains. Today Im a Finder!"
As he speaks Baladur makes his way to a footstool, takes a seat and begins unlacing his boots, discarding them and stretching his feet luxuriously. You can see one big toe poking from a stocking.
Addressing the young human, Baladur asks "Lad, bring me some o' that grub, and some ale will ya? Whose squire are ye?"
The dwarf pulls a needle and thread from his pouch and leans down to darn his holed stocking.
Valsin maintains an unmoving stance and stone cold poker face during the dwarfs tale.
(pause)
Only two minotaurs and a twenty mile pleasure stroll before sunup! I thought I was recruiting a Dwarven holly warrior, not a nurse maid on crutches!
Tense moments pass. Then . . .
Hawrrrrrr HAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAA The Venture-Captain lets out a laugh that would wake an entire army of Pathfinders. And keeps laughing . . .and laughing . . .
After a time he wipes a tear from his watering eyes.
Next time just saw you were sleeping off a bender in the stables because forgot your way home.
He then claps the Cleric on the back.
Good to see you again old friend.
to himself I really don't see why some people don't enjoy Dwarven humor. Cracks me up every-time . . .
Abashed at the Captain's admonishment, Volta settles down dejected. He barely moves when the dwarf comes in. He becomes more interested at the Captain's exuberant greeting of the new entry. An old friend of the Captain's then I should greet him. He jumps up when the dwarf addresses him. "Good morning, Master Farwander! I'll gladly get you a plate and ale, and drink a toast to Cayden Cailean in mourning for your lost ale. I'm Volta Delbove, not a squire, just a recruit like everyone else. I'll be your scout and trap-smith for the ventures we'll be on." Volta swiftly piles on a plate with everything on it neatly separated and draws two ales, bringing the plate and ale to the dwarf. "Minotaurs near a mountain trail; was that on the Ruim Pass trail then? To Caydan and the tragedy of the lost Dwarven Brew." He drinks the ale in one gulp then blinks owlishly. Swiftly he brings up his hand and there is a short piece of rope not present a second ago. He then twirls it with long delicate fingers,in what appears to be a strange exercise; he stares at what he does with rapt attention, then seems satisfied with the result, and the rope vanishes as swiftly as it came. "Can't drink like that again, soon." He mutters to himself.
You all begin to hear faint noises coming closer down the hall to the door to the Venture-Captains office. *ZIP!* *POP!* *TWANG!* *BZZZZZ!* Then a high pitched voice says Will you quit that infernal racket! You know it grates on my ears when you do that! The sounds immediately recede and all that is left is a very heavy *clomp clomp* before another voice that sounds like someone is speaking through a long tube, reverberating and bouncing, says My apologies Professor. You have not had the time to oil me sufficiently and you know how that gets my gears popping. I am suppressing them for the moment but I will require maintenance soon. The door opens at this point and a small gnome, dressed in what looks like blacksmith gear over scholarly robes walks in. He has short spiky blond hair and a myriad of tools and devices arrayed about himself. Picture of Professor Diggans Next to him is the strangest creature you have ever seen. It has the vague shape of a large cat like a lion but is entirely mechanized. You can see gears and pistons moving within the creatures body. For eyes, it has two slightly glowing yellow orbs with some sort of liquid floating within. It is golden in color and moves with precise tread. Picture of Delta 426
The gnome doesn't even seem to notice anyone is there for a moment, continuing to speak to the lion. I oiled you an hour ago! You can't tell me you have gotten dirt in your gears already! I swear you are getting more feline by the minute with all your preening Delta! Looking up the gnome finally seems to have noticed you all. He looks abashed for a second before saying Oh...Hello, Hello. I am Professor Diggans Q. Finnegan. I believe my presence was requested. This heap of bolts is Delta 426. Delta snorts at the remark and then says in a very cultured tone reminiscent of a butler, It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances. The gnome looks over at the table and seems to squeal for a moment before saying giddily They have CAKE! At which point he bounces over to the table and gets on his tip toes to reach a plate and cake. The cat sits and goes quiet, still as a statue for the moment.
Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin remain unfazed by all the ruckus.
Ah, Finnegan. I just noticed you snuck in. Quiet as ever. Perhaps for a first assignment I should send you and Farwander to the bard college. I hear they are in need of new mime teachers.
And you Lanliss. No need to stand by the window and pine for the outdoors. It will always be there waiting for you. What happens within closed walls is usually where trouble begins.
Ellsworth. So shy and timid. You remind me of a field mouse. Of course, field mice have been known to destroy entire crops without being noticed, forcing armies to turn back for lack of food. Hmmmm. Those qualities could make one the most powerful.
And you Lanliss. No need to stand by the window and pine for the outdoors. It will always be there waiting for you. What happens within closed walls is usually where trouble begins.
Aryllan inclines her head towards Valsin, indicating to him she understands his meaning. Might as well try to get to know the members of the group, your life migh depend on them in the future. She sits next to the Dwarf. He seems to have a big personality like most Dwarfs she has known in the past.
She looks at the Dwarfs socks and hopes he puts his boots back on soon, for his sake.Finnegan peeks her interest. The creature at his side is curious and the little professor seems more interested in cake than anything else.
Uraisa's attention went to the mechanical lion that accompanied the gnome. She left her now mostly empty plate, and approached the creature, staring intently. "Hello...Delta, I think it was. I am Uraisa and it is nice to meet you. I don't want to come off as rude, but have never met a creature such as yourself. Are you beast or machine, or a combination of both? How did you come to meet the gnome?"
Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin allows the pleasantries to continue for a few moments more. It's crystal clear that the pace of the meeting is at his discretion.
I know you are new recruits eager to make names for yourselves in the organization, but first we need to make sure you are up to snuff and won’t get yourself killed out there. I have a number of small assignments for you and your team, and it would be best if you could finish them before the day’s end.
Every day we get some doe-eyed hopeful or some sniveling bootlicker willing to do anything to join up with the Pathfinders. Most of them are good kids, but not all of them have the salt to make it in a world like this.
That's why I'm assembling you as an elite company. You'll work as a single unit to accomplish what more casual pairings can not. You were each hand picked not only for the skills you have, but for who you are. Together, you are stronger than apart.
We’ve got people who look down their noses at us, folks who think we squander our resources, and agents who want to take everything we have collected. This wealth of knowledge and these items of lore make us the most powerful organization on the planet. That said, since we are fractured and widespread, it’s difficult for that power to light on anything for too long. For every friend of the Society, there are two enemies.
Your first mission, to learn each other strengths and test your political savvy, sends you to meet a few people important to the Society living here in Absalom. These are other venture-captains or close allies of our organization, so follow their orders as you would mine. I’ve prepared a list of things I want you to do. They’re not arranged in any particular order of importance, but I want them all completed as quickly as possible. Only report to me once you complete them all. Included in the envelope on the table is the list, complete with the name of your contact, and directions to the meeting location.
Volta's head snaps around at the commotion in the halls staring at he door as a gnome burst in with the most amazing creature Volta's seen outside of the exhibits. His restraint at not burying the Professor in questions looks about to break when Uraisa speaks up asking the same questions he has. When the Captain begins speaking Volta comes to attention perfectly but still looks odd because he stays sitting down. He reads over the list, frowns then says. "Hmm ... mostly seems diplomatic stuff but never assume anything, my parents say. If so, well I'm not the best at talking people into anything, most times they just want me to vanish - which I am good at. Since it's a test there'll be a catch in each of these but the only way to find out is to start. Maybe start with the nearest and work our way out?"
Where are these places relative to where we are now? How quick could we get to each of them? If rolls are needed go ahead and make them to save time.
Professor Diggan's looks up from the cake he is shoveling into his mouth with gusto when the Venture-Captain speaks. When he is done talking Professor Diggan's says around a mouthful of cake Mph brph drmd brmp ub. which you take to either mean I will mount the ox. or You can count on us. but you assume it is the latter...or at least you hope it is the latter.
Aryllan laughs as Finnegan. I certainly hope it was "You can count on us."
Aryllan gets up from her chair and looks over the shoulder of Volta and looks at the Map. She wants to determine how close each of the locations are to each other to determine if splitting up is a good idea to jump ahead of time or if it is all relatively close and the group should stay together to learn each other's skills. She listens as Volta looks over the information and talks about vanishing. That's a talent she thinks to herself.
I suggest we split into two parties of three. Each party can take on two of the tasks and hopefully we can get them all done by the end of the day as Valsin indicated. She nods to the Venture-Captain.
Where is Robertus? She looks towards the door, expecting him to walk through at any moment.
Smacking his lips and setting his empty ale mug down, the dusty dwarf slips his boots on, and clomps over to the food table in his unlaced boots.
"I'll visit the holy rollers and get the goods to the wee bairns. Dont ye worry, I'll make sure whoever's in charge over there is on the up and up."
Baladar glances around, "Who wants ta come with me? We can hit whatever else is nearby."
V-C Ambrus Valsin looks at you lot standing around. His outstreached arms guestering twords the door.
The suns rays are almost shining over the horizon. That's half the day wasted in my book!
Am I that handsome you cant leave my sight?
His tone indicates he is not expecting a response.
. . .and if you run into Toreador out there. Tell him I've got a boot that wants to meet his arse for missing the meeting!
Baladur seems to have selected the first task and is heading out the door.
Glancing at the map on the way out the door, Baladur says "I'll hit the Docks as well, if some of ye can go to the Ivy District and the Wise Quarter they're both to the north."
Jamming his rumpled hat on his head and grabbing his longspear, he exits the room at a fast pace, fumbling in his pouch for a copper to pay a carter for the ride to the Ascendant Court.
"Slow down. No reason to run off all half cocked. Let's go knock these out one at a time, return here, and prove ourselves."
Professor Diggans grabs a plate of cake to go and hops onto his mechanical cat, happily putting fork after fork into his mouth. Delta looks up at him and shakes his head before letting loose a short burst of steam from a valve on his neck. I agree with Uraisa as Venture-Captain Ambrus specifically said we were to work as a team. Therefor we need to stay together and accomplish these tasks while working as a unit. Delta looks up at Professor Diggans as if to say "are you going to add anything?" and Professor Diggans says Yes Yes...what Delta said...mmmmmm....chocolate ganache... He then continues finishing the last few morsels of his cake while everyone gets ready to leave.
Uraisa glanced at Delta, still a bit miffed the creature had not responded to her earlier questions. On her parchment, she wrote down No response from the mechanical animal. Perhaps it can only communicate to the gnome. Maybe it responds to high intakes of sugar. Must be tested later. She grabs a pastry from teh table, and makes sure she waves it toward Delta, checking his reaction, before stowing it for later.
"Very well. Let's go. Lead on, Baldy."
Delta looks at the pastry and has a confused expression on his face before a look of knowing comes across the mechanical eyebrows. My sincere apologies for not answering before. The Venture-Captain has a tendency to take over social situations it seems. As he walks out with the gnome on his back he continues I am from an alternate plane of existence with a technological level different from your own. The good Professor is a student of such planes and sent a call out which I heard and answered. Coming through was very difficult as I had to send myself through disassembled and even then I have left large portions of myself behind. Perhaps you will get the opportunity to see before long. Again my apologies for the tardy response.
Outside of the building is quite the ruckus. Two wagons have become stuck together, the rear right wheel of the one on the left and the front left wheel of the one on the right appear to have become quite snarled. In the midst of this confusion of lumber, vegetables, horses and hay is a man with blonde hair in scale mail. The scale mail, at one time polished, seems covered in bits of hay and dirt as he is laying on the ground, making a mark on the axle of the left wagon, the one that was at one point filled with hay. Next to the man is a pair of pole-arms, a Ranseur and a well-cared for Guisarme. He stands and turns to the two teamsters, pointing and discussing with them as they all seem to be involved somehow.
"...if you try that you'll break the axle. If you want to save the axles at all, you need to lift, then back the wagons up!"
The teamsters continue to argue for a bit, shouting and pointing fingers at each other.
"I don't care if your both Merchant Princes from Ustalav, if you don't get this cart moved, Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin will have all our arses!"
The last statement seems to get the teamsters into gear, and soon they are working together to unhook the wheels and clear the street. The man grabs his pole-arms, taking time to cross them on his back as he walks toward the building. He appears to be muttering to himself, not noticing the group standing outside, and those perceptive can hear him mutter the following:
"If my arse isn't his already for being late to the meeting."
He pauses as he looks at the group standing outside the building.
"...Crap. I missed the meeting, didn't I." It's more a statement of fact than anything, at this point. On closer inspection, the man in scale has a nasty looking scar going down the left side of his face, down his throat. Whatever happened seemed to hit his eye, causing what would be a pair of blue eyes to be now unmatched, with the left eye being a milky-white.
"My name is Robertus Toreador, but everyone just calls me Robert. So, how much trouble am I in?" The way he talks, this seems to be more common than Robert would like it to be.
Delta looks at the pastry and has a confused expression on his face before a look of knowing comes across the mechanical eyebrows. My sincere apologies for not answering before. The Venture-Captain has a tendency to take over social situations it seems. As he walks out with the gnome on his back he continues I am from an alternate plane of existence with a technological level different from your own. The good Professor is a student of such planes and sent a call out which I heard and answered. Coming through was very difficult as I had to send myself through disassembled and even then I have left large portions of myself behind. Perhaps you will get the opportunity to see before long. Again my apologies for the tardy response.
Maybe the treat did the trick Uraisa thinks silently, nodding at Delta's response. Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Delta. Disassembled, you say? I've never heard of anything like that before. I'd love to talk to you more about the process when we get some downtime, if you wouldn't mind. Very interesting."
From the archway of the door you just exited, a booming familar voice rings out.
Did you have to create such a ruckous just to miss my morning pep talk?!
he pauses for effect, surveying the mess.
The lady fied-mouse speaks true again. Perhaps this bit of "accidental" congestion could best be served by your combined talents.
The VC turns and reenters the building.
He pauses briefly. Looking over his shoulder.
. . .welcome aboard
Observent pathfinders can detect the beginnings of a sly grin form on the VC's face as he turns and marches back to his office.
Volta looks around to see responses and gets a typical kid disgusted look when the grumps ignore everything he just said. He sighs and thinks, Easy to vanish when everyone thinks you're a kid and pays no attention.
"We are leaving then? I've got to get my kit then." Volta dashes for the stables passing Delta as he replies to Uraisa. "Technological level? I know a level is a tool or do you mean levers, different levers? You're like a mobile trap then?" Volta's voice fades as he races ahead at a dead run, as he bursts outside he scatters pigeons gathered to grab the spilt hay. What the ----? Great, just great. Without breaking stride he leaps over every obstacle in his path to the stable, where he grabs his kit on the run, does the Osirian twist, continuing back to the mess just in time to hear the VC dump it into their laps. Oh great, I don't know much about animals, what can I do? He joins the group saying, "Don't know much about carts or animals, anybody got an idea?"
The Sczarni(wiki link) are a traveling family of gypsies. Their brightly colored and gaudy cart careened forward resting on it's front axel hub. The wheel lay nearby, seemly still intact.
The family of men, woman and children are very disciplined, standing stoically around the eldest member, sitting on a small stool. This elderly woman with aged features is clearly the leader of this family. She curses and shouts in a voice defiant of her age. (anyone speak the Sczarni dialect?)
A couple of well timed strength maneuvers or similar (DC 15, aid others if simultaneous attempts) followed by some simple tinkering (DC10 with any appropriate skill) to reattach the wheel will fix 'er up. BUT BE CAREFUL! A slip up could mean a broken axel.
As the Sczarni display discipline and cold calculations, the Taldor merchants are the polar opposite. Yelling to each other and no-one at the same time, they flail their hands in the air and shoot about as a flock of hens. More interested in placing blame than gathering their scattered goods and uprighting the cart. They could be up and going if they would just unite on issue at hand.
A small crowd of passerby's are drawn to watch the commotion.
Robertus shakes his head as he looks at the mess. "So, we need to fix the carts and calm down the merchants. I could shout them down, but I suppose that wouldn't be helpful here."
Gripping his battered longspear, Baladur advances on the scarzni cart "Well c'mon, don't just stand there!" Jamming the butt end of his thick spear under the cart he begins to try and lever the cart up.
Untrained Diplomacy of +0 to try and convince bystanders, scarzni, merchants or PC's to assist.
Str check +2 (to lever cart - GM Rolls checks?) Perhaps a circumstance bonus here for using a lever?
Gripping his battered longspear, Baladur advances on the scarzni cart "Well c'mon, don't just stand there!" Jamming the butt end of his thick spear under the cart he begins to try and lever the cart up.
Untrained Diplomacy of +0 to try and convince bystanders, scarzni, merchants or PC's to assist.
Str check +2 (to lever cart - GM Rolls checks?) Perhaps a circumstance bonus here for using a lever?
The Sczarni men and woman start to step forward, but the wizened elder snaps in the Scznari dialect. They step back, the elder scrutinizing the actions of the Pathfinders.
The many superstitions of Sczarni gypsies causes the crowd to quiet down and step back as well.
The Taldor merchants even cease their arm flaying at the defiant actions of the mysterious nomads.
Robertus steps forward, grabbing onto the lever next to the Dwarf. Nodding toward the gnome and the smaller human, Robertus looks at the wagon wheel on the ground. "Can you get the wheel in place while we lift?"
He turns toward the Dwarf. "When they are in position, on three?"
Getting the wheel in place and fixed should be no problem. Well as soon as you raise the bolster, I can then install the boxing, hub band, felloes, hub, hub band, boxing and tire onto the partial skein bearing. Just make sure you don't remove the coupling pin from the reach. After he finishes the gnome looks over at you as if to say "well get on with it"
Ahh I see...
Diplomacy:
Str Check:
Should Robert roll an assist check DC10 for another +2?
"One, two, threeeee." With a grunt Baladur tries to lift the wagon with Robert's help.
"Guess you do, sure I can help move the wheel over- Delta as I hold the wheel can you lift it to-" Volta measures the height by eye then puts his thumb next to the wheel hub then against his knee. "- about the length of my thumb to first knuckle above my knee height to align the hole onto the shaft." If Delta or someone helps he pushes delicately to slide the wheel onto the axle.
Craft(Untrained) (Wrainwright)
Oops, The angle is wrong and the wheel jams onto the shaft.
"I think we are going to need a real wainwright for this, there may be one near the stables"
Volta hangs on trying to keep things from getting worse.
Aryllan claps Robertus on the shoulder, Good of you to join us. Not that much trouble it seems. Lets get this sorted out and get to the actual tasks of the day. Although Valsin might have created this as well, as a test. she smiles. She surveys the damage and sees where her talents might be put to the best use.
Aryllan surveys the Sczarni gypsies and the Taldor merchants. Sensing Robertus, Baladur, Volta, Finnegan & Delta have the Cart situation under control. She turns to getting the people calmed down.
Perception check -
She looks for the leader of the Merchants. She wants to get people organized and cleaning up the mess around them.
Uraisa, a little help with getting the Merchants and Sczarni calmed down would be the best use of our skills.
"You know it, Aryllan. Everyone needs to remain calm. There is a bit of a situation here, but if we could get your cooperation, we can resolve it very quickly," the mage says, stepping to the forefront.
Diplomacy
Baladur, easily raises the wagon with the strength of three men, his thick staff leveraging the weight. It must be Dwarven quality workmanship to not splinter under the great load.
His diplomatic skills however, need a bit of tending to. Bellowing out what he thinks is a Sznari rallying cry, turns out to be, in-fact, a Talor insult.
The Taldor merchants immediately cease fighting among themselves and turn their united aggression upon the Dwarf and his companions. These seven cold blooded peddlers grab up weapons that strike fear in the hears of men. A two inch pairing knife flashes. A butcher hatched gleams in the morning light. A tent pole becomes a spear. Heads of lettuce and deadly tomatoes round out the arsenal.
The Szarni surpress grins and glances at the display. The elder gypsy does not de-sway them.
The professor busies himself with reattaching the wheel, enhancing the alignment and improving the suspension and overall design of the undercarriage. Volta assists the project, but mainly keeps getting pushed about by Diggans.
Aryllan easily spots the leader of the Taldan's, a bearded fellow with the hatchet, and points him out to Uraisa. With a few calming words, and several compliments on the quality of the produce, the young mage assures them her Dwarf friend is simply suffering from a case of sobriety, and will purchase a case of their finest lettuce.
Once the commotion is finished, the Sczarni elder pulls out a single gold coin, and tosses it to the group. They then move on about their business.
With a few calming words, and several compliments on the quality of the produce, the young mage assures them her Dwarf friend is simply suffering from a case of sobriety, and will purchase a case of their finest lettuce.
Aryllan laughs, but quickly hides the smirk on her face as she looks at the Dwarf. We will correct the problem after we finish our tasks for the day. Four more to go. Baladur where did you want to start?
Scowling, Baladur says "Blast, those pointy things dont hear too well eh? I'm heading to the Ascendant Court and then the docks. Whoever said we should split up has the right of it, who is coming with me? We dont have time to waste travelers, I want to pass this test and get on the road, I've been in one place too long!"
Muttering under his breath about sober dwarves, Baladur tries to talk his way onto a merchant cart heading the right direction while wrestling a container of sloshing liquid from his pack. It bears the mark of a local brewery. Taking a swig, he passes it to the Taldan merchant leader, "Hey traveler, May Desna bless ye and the road ye travel upon, are ye headed towards the Ascendant Court?" As he speaks Baladur hands over a silver coin and begins looking over the crates of lettuce.
Diplomacy: (If a +2 circumstance bonus is allowed from the ale)
Robertus heaves with the dwarf, though his assistance was not necessarily needed. He nods to Aryllan, and gives a faintly off-center grin. "I am good to go where I am needed. However, as we go, perhaps I could get your names? I must confess, getting held up by carts has started me a bit behind the rest of you."
The dusty dwarf doffs his hat in greeting. Baladur Farwander, Clan Stonefist, at yer service! The road is me home and Desna is me guide."
Noticing the dwarf again was wrong aboutt the social customs of the Taldan merchants, Uraisa shook her head. The leader always drinks first, then passes the bottle to the others! The caravan head had recoiled in horror.
"Apologies kind sir, take this," the mage said, nimbly pulling a new bottle from the cart, and passing it to the leader unopened, with a small bow of deference, hoping this might smooth over the faux pas.
"Aryllan, we have to keep him from talking to...well, anybody. Just to be on the safe side," she mutters, nodding her head to Baladur.
Diplomacy
Robertus's strength caughtes the eye of the elder Sczarni, so much so the gold coin was tossed to him. Siht yam gnirb uoy enutrof. she says in the dialect of her people.
Although a standard gold crown in weight, it's not struck in the local Absolam stamp. It appears to have hand carved gypsy pictographs on it.
Baladur's diplomacy skills continue to incite the Taldorians to rage. They snatch up the silver piece and shove back a tray with the most sandy, damaged and browned lettuce in their inventory. Turning their backs, they proceed to travel in the exact opposite direction that Desna's Cleric indicated. Even the doe eyed Uraisa could not calm their furious angst. Immediately upon departure they resume flaying their arms in the air and arguing among themselves.
Baladur resumes his march towards the Ascendant Court and the Temple of the Shining Star. Even at a fast gate, it's easy to keep up with the stout Dwarf.
"Volta Delbove, a scout, please to meet you Mr. Toreador. How in the world do you carry two such large weapons about? You must be a great weapons master. We need to do something about those other merchants. I'll try but no one takes me seriously."
Volta bounds over to the Taldorian Merchants and says, "Goodmen, Please 'tis just an accident, no one at fault, just organize that cart over there, then this one and everyone can be on their way."
Diplomacy (Untrained)
Volta dashes away pelted with vegetables.
Volta dashes away pelted with vegetables.
Yes he does!
Attack of the killer tomatoes to the face; (not a real fight attack)
You escape wearing the Taldan's wares.
They mutter softly among themselves.
. . .is he there bellboy?
No, his name was Bellboy. Or Delbutt, or some'n. . .
. . .did he say he's a scout . . .
Pathfinders truly are getting desperate.
Let's get out of here before any more come over to insult us . . .
Robertus catches the coin, not pausing to examine it. He bows, not sure of what the leader said.
Robertus catches the coin, not pausing to examine it. He bows, not sure of what the leader said.
You respond in a way that seems to indicate understanding of the coin's value being greater that it's monetary weight.
She seems content.
As quick as it started, it's over. With practiced precision and uncanny speed the gypsy troop dismisses the outsiders and is on the move. In moments the cart has disappeared from view among the morning traffic.
"Well, that didn't go terribly well, did it? Hopefully we will have worked the kinks out of the group with this first little excurison and we'll do better in the future."