GM Bold Strider |
Venture-Captain Alissa Moldreserva, a fiery red-headed woman who climbed from the depths of Galtan revolution to become one of the Society’s finest (and most well-connected) venture-captains, stands in the dining hall of the Flaxseed Lodge in Cassomir. She stares down her hawkish nose and sighs. “I ask for the best and they send me you. Lucky me.
Karu the Bold Strider laughs. Right? Half the time, I can't even get them to beat the brain oozes back at the monastery.
VC Moldreserva gives a wry smile. Hah, either way, the Society’s best contact in Osirion, Grand Ambassador Dremdhet Salhar, informed me this morning that his lovely Chelish wife, the Lady Anilah Salhar, was kidnapped and sold into slavery.
The VC seems to launch into a tirade with innumerable subtext. “Normally, I wouldn’t care a bulette’s eyeball about who was or was not enslaved in Absalom, but Salhar is the Society’s "best" avenue for acquiring all of the necessary official paperwork to make our frequent delves into the tombs of Osirion cheap and legal. This is a relationship the Ten wants to preserve and since the Ambassador made it clear that our status is in jeopardy, I’ve been instructed to send our best agents to find her and return her safely to Salhar."
She looks bleakly over the party. “I guess you’ll do."
“Salhar hasn’t sat idle since his wife was taken—his own agents are prowling the streets and dug up one possible lead. A one-eyed Andoren, a grit junky named Fredrik, is known for selling or helping to sell nobility into foreign markets that desire house slaves. Being enormously illegal, this trade makes Fredrik a fair bit of coin that Salhar’s agents assure me all go straight into the pockets of the Second Chance, a grit den dockside in Puddles. That’s all I have to get you started. Go quickly. The boat waits for you at the Cassomir harbor and will have you in Absalom by the evening. The fate of our Osirian exploits is in your hands.”
Jamamros Samulkin |
"Don't ye' be thinkin' that these clothes mean Jamamros isn't ready for a fight" says a bald, short, dwarf with a dirty white beard as he hops out of a nearby chair.
His yellow cleric vestments appear to be a little worn suggesting that he has been wearing them for some time and he appears to be wearing some form of armor underneath his robes from looking at him. Secured to his back is a finely crafted battleaxe, likely made by one of his dwarven brethren. At his side is a coiled whip with a symbol of the deity Calistria imprinted in the handle. "I'm Jamamros," he says looking at the rest of the party. "And just because I'm a man of faith don't be expectin' me to heal all your little scratches you get on this adventure."
He picks up his backpack from the floor and slings it over his shoulder before walking up towards the Venture-Captain. "Sounds like Fredrik is the first person we should speak to."
Holding his crudely made wooden holy symbol in his left hand, Jamamros cinches down his backpack before heading towards the door of the lodge.
"I'll meet the rest of ya at the docks. Don't be takin' all day!"
As he walks out the door, Jamamros can be overheard mumbling to himself "Pá níos fearr a bheith go maith"
My first time using another language, but hopefully it has the desired effect
Scarvane |
A frail looking purple skinned Tiefling lounges in the corner of the room as the Venture-Captian explains all about the grit junkie. We all have out vices in life. He whispers to himself as a small green scorpion crawls across his arm. Tapping his sack he looks to the Dwarven man. I shall await the others arrival and meet you there.
Fuzzfoot Hogan |
A stylish halfling bows with a flourish.
"I, too, detest the slave trade, and am happy to do what I can to find this Lady Anilah."
When everyone is ready, Farin "Fuzzfoot" Hogan will join them and head to the ship.
Edvard Ulfsson |
I scowl at Moldreserva's tiresome speech and her open expression of contempt for our group, but I bite my tongue.
Upon hearing Jamamros's introduction and gazing on his holy symbol, I stare in slack-jawed amazement. You worship... Calistria? Don't tell me you... I trail off, speechless. I am Edvard, son of Ulf.
After everyone makes their introductions, I prepare to meet them at the docks.
Hule |
Hule leans against a wall and taps a plated metal boot while the venture captain speaks. Adorned in fine, expensive armor, wearing a plain but apparently well-made longsword at his side, one might mistake him for some sort of soldier or paladin. Yet his sinister orcish looks and the coiled leather whip at his waist suggest something else entirely. A large symbol of an open hand is painted blue across his breastplate, and smaller versions are engraved upon the heavy gauntlets of his armor. He looks large, vicious, dangerous, and slightly bored.
When Fuzzfoot speaks up about the slave trade, Hule loudly scoffs. "Ha! You're in bad company, shortling." he mocks as he draws his whip to recoil it. "Hule Pirium, slave catcher, trader, and master. I'll be glad to hunt down this slave for you. A bit different from this side of things though, I can say."
Kazzak Ebonheart |
What's so wrong with the strong guiding the meek. Kazzak thinks to himself. He'd never been one to reject the natural order of things especially if he was on top looked like his feloow Half Orc agreed on this as did Puss. The feline had hopped on his shoulder as it liked to do in the presence of other two legs and examined them carefully hissing at the halfling, she detested them good natured and happy little buggers much as Kazzak did.
The large Half Orc didn't like talking and hadn't done so during the briefing. The large half Orc was very green around the nose and his head was addorned by a scrungy bush of black hair while his worn out armor was all painted black bearing an odd red symbol with the head of a demon or something such at the heart. When he did finally speak his voice came out raspy.
Aye! While find this fellow... was all he said.
GM Bold Strider |
It’s important to note that while slavery isn’t illegal in Absalom, kidnapping nobles and selling them into slavery is. Slaves are largely gathered from locations elsewhere and brought to Absalom—or sometimes plucked from the ranks of the condemned, petty criminals, or those with excessive debt. To most of the civilized nations surrounding the Inner Sea, to steal a member of the nobility and sell her into slavery is an affront to the foundations of society. The lone exception is Andoran, who actively fights against slavery throughout Golarion.
The Pathfinders make their way to the Second Chance, which is the only lead they have. Dimly lit by cheap oil lamps sputtering on walls punctuated by painted-over windows, the Second Chance reeks of unwashed humanity and pungent ash. Threads of sickly sweet smoke drift like smog from tin hookahs. Ale kegs lurk in each corner, and cheap clay mugs hang from nails on the walls.
When the Pathfinders arrive, the Second Chance is in the midst of a frenzied, grit-induced brawl. Next to the bar, the owner of the den, a thick scowling Keleshite, grips a bloody scimitar in one fist, blocking one of the den’s rear doors. At his feet lies a fresh corpse, blood slowly seeping into the floor boards from the dead man’s slashing wounds.
Sailors, dockworkers and day-laborers send tables and bottles careening across the room. A chair crashes into the wall next to Hule.
In the center of the din, a withered man with an eyepatch stands atop a wobbling table, frantically kicking at several men who try to pull him off.
Hule |
"Now that's enough! First man to hit me with something is getting his head smashed!" Hule insists as he takes his whip from his side.
Intimidate: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 18
Scarvane |
Allow me my friend. Scarvane says in a rough and gratey voice as he begins to cast a spell.
Cast sleep on the three men grasping at the man on the table.
Jamamros Samulkin |
After hearing Hule mention a bar brawl, "There are two things e'ery dwarf is good at...drinkin' and fightin'."
As Jamamros slides his holy symbol into his belt pouch he says, "And Jamamros ain't drinkin' so it must be time fer fightin'."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Fuzzfoot Hogan |
Fuzzfoot, upon seeing the brawl, quickly looks for the safest place to stay out of the way.
"Have fun, boys. I am going to sit to the side and see if I can make sense of all of this..."
If necessary, I will go full defense, even using my acrobatics if it helps keep me from getting crushed.
Kazzak Ebonheart |
Kazaak steps into the tavern with the fighting going on he quickly picks up Puss to keep her safe around all these ruffians. He had not fought for fun since his teens and merely watched the spectacal wondering why the tavern owner was butchering his customers.
GM Bold Strider |
Technically it would also affect the eye-patched man as well.
4d20 ⇒ (2, 20, 14, 12) = 48
Scarvane spends six seconds casting a spell and the eye-patched man falls asleep with one of his attackers while the other two start to carry the man off. Don't forget to post things like DCs, please.
Fuzzfoot, Kazzak, and Edvard wait patiently by the entrance to the Second Chance tavern, while Jam and Hule dive right into the fray.
Unarmed Strike @ Jam-12 AC: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
Damage - Non-lethal: 1d3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Unarmed Strike @ Hule-20 AC: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
Unarmed Strike @ Hule-20 AC: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
Jam takes a fist across the face, while Hule tosses a man off of him who swung a chair his way.
Tavern is difficult terrain during the brawl.
Hule |
Hule moves forward, frustrated by the hindrance of chaos. He pauses, casting a spell to move more quickly.
Expeditious Retreat
EDIT: On second thought, I'm not adjacent to anyone, so perhaps I wasn't positioned correctly to begin with?
Scarvane |
Well that did not go as well as planned lol, who brings a witch to a fist fight :)
Hmmm... We may need some assistance with this
Scarvane pulls out a wand of mage armor and applies it to himslef.
Edvard Ulfsson |
I growl. I thought you lugs could handle this. I stayed outside because my partner here is liable to rip these drunkards limb from limb.
I leave the leopard outside and circle around the edge of the room to tail the ruffians hauling our informant away. I try to stay out of burst range in case Scarvane drops another Sleep spell.
Edvard Ulfsson |
The tavern is super-full, I just didn't put a ton of minis. Just assume the place is teeming with fighting drunkards.
Okay, I halved my movement rate and double moved.
I call to the men hauling Fredrik away: Hoi! Put him down. He's ours.
Edvard Ulfsson |
Do they take any penalties to movement/AC from carrying a body around? :)
I follow the men and aim a lead right hook at his temple.
Attack Roll: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
Non-Lethal Damage: 1d3 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
Scarvane |
Are win in initiative order?
Scarvane will look at the men carrying the body and they begin to feel sleepy.
Hex Slumber on one of them to slow them down. DC 14
Jamamros Samulkin |
"If it weren't fer the fact we needed him fer information I would let him go." Looking around for the little halfling, Jamamros shouts out "'Ey Fuzzfoot! You able to play anythin' on that instrument that might distract em?"
Jamamros follows Edvard towards the men to assist in stopping them from escaping. "Drop 'im now."
This is a lot to go through for one fella...better be worth it.
Fuzzfoot Hogan |
Fuzzfoot watches as they head out the back door, and decides it might be better to cut them off at the pass.
"I don't think I can do much to stop them from this far away, especially with an angry brawl between us. Time to see how fast I can run!"
There is a window right behind me? If I can jump out that, I will - +9 Acrobatics if that helps. Otherwise Fuzzfoot runs out the door and around the right side (east?) of the building. Once around, my intention is to try to use some diplomacy/bluff to slow them down, and cast hypnotism if that isn't working.
GM Bold Strider |
@Scarvane: Not really. We can be if you want, but I am just waiting for each of you to say something or a day (real life time) has passed, then having them hustle out.
@Edvard: The junkie is a junkie. He is pretty light, all things considered. Two guys should have no problem carrying him out. One guy really shouldn't have a problem, just thought it would make more sense to carry him out arms/feet style.
Edvard sucker-punches one in the back of the head, because he feels no shame in that... ;)
The man looks disoriented, but doesn't fall unconscious.
Fuzzfoot jumps out of the window and tries to cut the men off.
Scarvane targets one of the men with Slumber.
1d2 ⇒ 1
Will Save: 1d20 ⇒ 8
The man that Edvard punched in the head passes out, falling unconscious to the floor.
The man in front starts to drag the unconscious grit junkie out the back door and down an alleyway. Git away! He's MINE!
Can't find any rules for dragging unconscious things outside of the Drag CMB. I'll just say he is under Medium encumbrance.
Edvard Ulfsson |
I dash out of the bar in pursuit of the man. Once outside, I shout for my animal companion (Come Command, Free Action). Fool, you're outnumbered. Drop him or you won't live to see the next sunrise.
Jamamros Samulkin |
Jamamros follows Edvard and Hule out the door and positions himself nearby in the event he is needed to engage with the remaining man.
Kazzak Ebonheart |
Talk in peace and quite! Kazzak says with a broad smile. I like the idea of that as he hoist the spindly man over his shoulder which earns the man an evil hiss from puss.
Scarvane |
While the rest of the group is holding him down Scarvane will wake the man up from the spell. Greetings my friend, Sorry for the spell but it seems that the men in there really wanted your head and well my companions and I really are ust looking for some information. Might you be inclined to help us with a bit of information?
GM Bold Strider |
As he is shook by Scarvane, he slowly comes to. AH! WHERE AM I!?! WHERE AM I!?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!?! Scarvane speaks to the man. I ain't talking to nobody who ain't my grit dealer and you ain't him. Scarvane and the party start to get angry looks on their faces and he immediately changes his tune. He looks at everyone smugly. Yeah, I did it! I took that woman! Got paid a ton to do it! I fobbed her off on Pardu Pildapush at his office in the Pits. ’Nough gold for a whole week o’ grit! He hacks up a bloody cough, red phlegm foaming on his lips.
Scarvane |
Heal: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 = 5
Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Hmm well then Pildapush huh? Can you tell me exactly where this Pildapush's building is located in these slave pits?
Jamamros Samulkin |
"I told ya that I wasn't going to be healing nicks and scrapes all da time" Jamamros says in response to Hule's nudge. "But I guess we do need ta gather information from this fella."
Heal: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Walking over to the body of the man, Jamamros attempts to heal his wounds. "Wake up! We needta talk to ya before you die."