GMElberion's Wounded Wisp PBP Gameday 6 (Inactive)

Game Master GeraintElberion

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You have been stationed at the Grand Lodge in Absalom, awaiting assignment for a mission of utmost importance. Things finally seemed in motion when Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng sent out a summons for available agents. Specialized in the history of Absalom, Dreng is known for putting off-duty agents to work on sundry tasks when he finds them resting within the city’s limits.

Coming to the meeting place—an odd choice of venue, as it is a street corner far from the Grand Lodge—a lone beggar garbed in baggy robes approaches. The only figure visible in the constant drizzle, the beggar sticks out his hands for currency.
“Have you any coin to spare, fine folk?”
The question hangs in the air for only a scant moment before the figure pulls back his hood to reveal the wizened face of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng. He gives a crooked smile, soaked head to toe from his unprotected time in the rain. His clothes smell faintly of cabbage.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a wink. “I always like to play a little joke on agents when I stumble across them during my jaunts into town. Now, why did I summon you fine folk here again…?” Dreng shakes his head from side to side, as though trying to knock water out of his ears, despite the constant downpour.
“Ah yes, the Wounded Wisp! I’m undercover now and can’t stray far from the site I’m watching, but I need someone to retrieve a package for me from that fine establishment. It’s among Absalom’s most storied taverns, you see, and one that holds a special place of privilege in the Society’s lore as the place where the organization began. Well, I could drone on and on about it, but standing out in the rain is doing none of us any favors.” As if anticipating agreement, the bedraggled venture-captain produces a small slip of folded paper from one of his
many stitched pockets. Dreng quickly shows a glimpse of the page’s contents: a map detailing the location of the Wounded Wisp bar.
“The bartender is a woman by the name of Heryn Gale, a fine lady who came to own the Wisp after the passing of her father from—oh, bah, it’s really getting too cold for me to give a proper history lesson! If you could just go to the Wisp, and tell Heryn you’re there to pick up my parcel, it would be most appreciated. I’ll be around here for several more hours at least.”

Merisiel wrinkles her nose at the beggar's crude approach, then smirks when the VC reveals himself... "That's it, just pick up a package at a local tavern? Ah well, I guess Pathfinders have to start somewhere."

Valtyra shakes the rain from her cloak as she stares at Drendle Drang for a moment before replying. "This many individuals for a simple parcel pickup? Why?"

"Is there something you are not telling us, mister Dreng? Picking up a parcel hardly requires six Pathfinder agents. Let alone meeting in such... place... " Quintus tries to pull his hood deeper, and shield his face from the rain. But it'll be only a matter of time until the oiled fabric starts to soak the water.

But I suppose I have to get used to this, if I want to be a Pathfinder.

Only a few moments later he realizes his words came out harsher than he meant. Despite his looks, Drendle Drang is still a Venture-Captain, and would have deserved more respect. Quintus quickly looks at the other Pathfinders, if they noticed the breach of protocol.

Huddled deep in her cloak, Kvina tries not to shiver too obviously. I'm glad I waterproofed this recently. Let's just hope it holds against this downpour. The large dark cloak almost looks too large for a normal human, but it seems necessary to cover the bag and what is likely a bow at her back and the large bulges around her hips.

When the beggar steps up and approaches, she starts to fiddle around with something aroundbelt height. She then opens the front of the cloak to reveal her armor and three different sets of quivers and a somewhat ornate longsword strapped to her hips. In her hands, a small object gives a small flash in the light. Just before she can reach out though, the man reveals himself to be Drengle. Kvina gives a small, half-hearted laugh at the man's 'joke' and comments, "Might I ask, sir, as to why you're undercover? And why a beggar?" She pauses for a moment, before continuing, "I'd read that the 'Wounded Wisp' had been renamed the 'Pig's Paunch.' Did they change the name again? And do you really need six agents for this?" Despite her concerns, Kvina does reach out and take the parchment, but in exchange she presses a silver coin in the man's hands and closes his fingers over it. With a pat she says, "Take it. You... could use it."

Sesotho raises a single eyebrow at the request to retrieve the package from the Wounded Wisp.

"How--How big is this package? And does it fight back?" the Zenj arcanist asks after a moment.

Sorry, forgot these earlier

Pathfinders may make this check untrained.

Valtyra shakes the rain from her cloak as she stares at Drendle Drang for a moment before replying. "This many individuals for a simple parcel pickup? Why?"

Dreng shakes his head and water spins out from his shaggy eyebrows, "It's 'explore, report, co-operate': young pathfinders should always practise the last one. Anyway, the rain will do you good: invigorating."

"Is there something you are not telling us, mister Dreng? Picking up a parcel hardly requires six Pathfinder agents. Let alone meeting in such... place... " Quintus tries to pull his hood deeper, and shield his face from the rain. But it'll be only a matter of time until the oiled fabric starts to soak the water.

He pulls his hood further forward, dark eyes glitter for a moment like constellations, "Are you suggesting, young Master Vorallus, that Venture Captains sometimes have ulterior motives? A slander!"

Kvina gives a small, half-hearted laugh at the man's 'joke' and comments, "Might I ask, sir, as to why you're undercover? And why a beggar?" She pauses for a moment, before continuing, "I'd read that the 'Wounded Wisp' had been renamed the 'Pig's Paunch.' Did they change the name again? And do you really need six agents for this?" Despite her concerns, Kvina does reach out and take the parchment, but in exchange she presses a silver coin in the man's hands and closes his fingers over it. With a pat she says, "Take it. You... could use it."

Dreng takes the coin, tests it with his teeth and squirrels away the coin, "Important lesson for a pathfinder there: never be too proud... I am investigating a group that may well be associates of the Onyx Alliance, and sometimes magical mischief is not the most subtle of disguises. Plus, it's good to stay humble, grounded." He chortles softly at his own joke.

Sesotho raises a single eyebrow at the request to retrieve the package from the Wounded Wisp.

"How--How big is this package? And does it fight back?" the Zenj arcanist asks after a moment.

Dreng's grin deepens, “Before you judge, despite my current attire, I’m still a man of taste. The parcel is actually a special vintage of wine from the cellar of the Wounded Wisp. I’ve been sampling their finer wines in descending order of bottling. I dare not disappear from my current role in this district, but I also would appreciate some comfort items. After all, I doubt anyone would judge a supposed beggar sipping from a bottle of wine.”

He cocks his head, as though responding to a sound none of you hear, and ushers you all away, "You'd best not linger here right now. Leave this beggar be, unless you can spare a bottle of wine for a poor old soak such as myself?"

Last chance to speak to Dreng before he disappears into the downpour.

"Well," says the Zenj arcanist, "If that's what you require of us, we'd best get to it. How do we get there?"

Knowing the location of the Wisp is a DC10 knowledge (geography) or knowledge (local) check.

know history untrained: 1d20 ⇒ 12

"The Wisp was where it all began with original members gathering and telling stories... perhaps the Paunch played a role as well, I don't know, but the Wisp's place in the Society's history is ... well.. history!"

know local: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22

"I know the way, I can lead us there. Come on, friends, let's go get the old fellow his wine and perhaps hear a few stories from current agents while we're there."

Kvina quickly unfolds the piece of paper in her hands, and gives it a glance. Not finding anything more than a map, she quickly covers it from the rain.

"Oh, the book I read had said they were the same place. I wonder who started that rumor? Just goes to show a good portion of what's written down is scuttlebutt." She then gives a wry smile. "My parents always make it seem like you're not a true Pathfinder until you banish your first demon. Just giving a tale sounds much easier."

"Well," says the Zenj arcanist, "If that's what you require of us, we'd best get to it. How do we get there?"

"I have a map here." Kvina says holding up the parchment. "But it seems our elven friend here knows where to go. Why don't we follow her."

________
Knowledge (history) untrained: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12

If everyone is ready to leave, Merisiel leads them all to the Wisp...

Sesotho pulls the hood of his cloak further over his face to better shield himself from the rain and follows Merisiel.

"At least there's a roof where we're going," he says cheerfully.

Knowledge (history), untrained: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22

"Getting out of the rain will be nice. That is for sure. But even better than that is a chance to overhear some of the stories being told at the Wisp when we arrive."

Valtyra follows along, occasionally taking a quick moment to ponder a sight along the way, and points out other routes of travel that also would result in arrival at the Wisp.

"Very well, then. Please lead the way. The sooner we're out of this rain, the better."

While not overly miserable in the rain, Sesotho is more than happy to escape it inside the Wounded Wisp. He shakes his cloak off at the entrance and hangs it over a peg by the door.

You find the Wounded Wisp in the Foreign Quarter, not far from the Grand Lodge. Built from dark, discolored wood, the exterior is the image of an iconic dive bar. Stained and barred windows obscure any view of the interior, though ruddy yellow light bleeds from a window in the front hall.

Inside, the smell of smoke and spilled ale assails the senses in this wide-open area. Walls of dark-stained wood make up the sides of the Wounded Wisp, while well-used wooden tables are spread throughout the space. A raised area in the back of the establishment houses several additional tables and eating areas for groups seeking more than just a good drink. An austere bar supported by kegs instead of wooden panels commands the northern end of the room. A stained-glass cabinet stands behind the bar, its dark panes cracked in several spots, yet not so opaque as to conceal the several dozen types of hard liquor within.

There is a woman behind the bar, and lots of patrons scattered around the room, many with wayfinders visible.

At one table, a group of young pathfinders are entranced by a halfling who is telling them a story of legendary pathfinders.

At another, a Sarenite in Qadiran garb sips at his drink while scanning the room.

By the bar, two half-orcs carouse happily, wayfinders sat easily on their belts.

An older man, thoughtfully looks about, index finger still saving the page in his book.

Other patrons seem either introverted or focused inward on thier own small groups.

Who will you approach?

Merisiel is torn between directly approaching the bartender and listening to the halfling's tale... She decides to head over to the storyteller and leave the direct approach to someone else, or later. Like the young pathfinders listening to the halfling, she gets drawn into the tale and ends up entranced by the story.

Valtyra steps into the Wisp and shakes the rain from her cloak. She scans the room and then moves to approach the older man with the book. He looks like he might have a rather interesting story to tell.

"Good day sir. A lovely day to ponder is it not?"

Sesotho approaches the bartender and smiles. "Pardon the interruption, miss. We're here to collect a package from Heryn Gale for Drendle Dreng. Would you be able to call Miss Gale for us?"

Finally out of the storm, Kvina quickly takes of her cloak and shakes as much water off of it as she can before laying it across her arm and heading into the tavern. In side she hangs up her cloak before turning and facing the room. With out her cloak it's easy to tell what all the bulges under it were. The bulges on her back were form the bag and longbow she is carrying and the ones around her hips were three sets of quivers and a longsword marked with the symbol of the Inheritor. The quivers, scabbards, and bag are all done in a thick leather dyed a deep brown color. The color is continued into the woman's armor, a series of thick boiled leather greaves, tassets, archery bracers and cuirass. Beneath these she wears a deep blue gambeson. On the front of her cuirass is a painted white and red symbol to Iomedae.

She approaches the bar with Sesotho. Looking around the room, though, she adds to the man's words "But seeing as the rest of our group is off enjoying themselves, don't feel you need to rush. So you have anything good that's not alcoholic?"

Hopefully with a drink in hand, she heads over to the Qaidran garbed Sarenite and tries to strike up a conversation.

Quintus, with his heavier armor, had to struggle to keep up with the others. But finally, he too, makes it to Wounded Wisp, and gladly enters to escape the rain. The air inside feels hot and humid, and Quintus throws back his cloak and removes the hood, and hopes he'll manage to dry up the rest of his clothes.

He joins Sesotho and Kvina by the counter, for the Gale woman was supposed to be tending the bar. Hearing Sesotho already asking for the package, Quitus merely orders wine, and waits for the situation to develop.

Merisiel is torn between directly approaching the bartender and listening to the halfling's tale... She decides to head over to the storyteller and leave the direct approach to someone else, or later. Like the young pathfinders listening to the halfling, she gets drawn into the tale and ends up entranced by the story.

The halfling welcomes Merisiel into the fold with a smile and a nod fo the head, not breaking the flow of her story at all. She is telling a tale of one of the first Pathfinders: Durvin Gest and the fabled Lens of Galundari.

"And when Gest arrived, he was not met by the dwarves he had left behind but by a group of Caligni instead! Have you all heard of the Caligni before?"

Valtyra steps into the Wisp and shakes the rain from her cloak. She scans the room and then moves to approach the older man with the book. He looks like he might have a rather interesting story to tell.

"Good day sir. A lovely day to ponder is it not?"

A smile cracks the mans lips and deepens the lines about his eyes, "It is always a good day to ponder, even if one does not always have the time."

Sesotho approaches the bartender and smiles. "Pardon the interruption, miss. We're here to collect a package from Heryn Gale for Drendle Dreng. Would you be able to call Miss Gale for us?"

She approaches the bar with Sesotho. Looking around the room, though, she adds to the man's words "But seeing as the rest of our group is off enjoying themselves, don't feel you need to rush. So you have anything good that's not alcoholic?"

He joins Sesotho and Kvina by the counter, for the Gale woman was supposed to be tending the bar. Hearing Sesotho already asking for the package, Quitus merely orders wine, and waits for the situation to develop.

The woman smiles and calls over her left shoulder, "Sure, I'll call her, 'Hey, Gale, get your lazy butt down here!'" She waits for a second, takes a step to the left and faces right, "Quit your hollering, I'm right here!" Then she steps right and speaks over her left shoulder again, "Oh, right, well, these good fellows want you to sell them a drink."

She chuckles merrily at her own joke, "Sorry, couldn't resist... I can't leave the bar until my colleague gets back, then we'll get to ol' Drendle and his package. What would you like while you wait?"

The barkeep seems non-plussed by Kvina's request but, after a second, puts a brown paper bag of heavily salted pork scratchings in front of the paladin, "Pretty sure there's no beer in there."

Sesotho chuckles in genuine amusement at Heryn's joke and then chuckles again at her response to Kvina's request. "Mead or rum, if you have it, thank you. We are in no hurry."

Hopefully with a drink in hand, she heads over to the Qaidran garbed Sarenite and tries to strike up a conversation.

Gale finds a mug of milk from somewhere and Kvina approaches the Sarenite with a milk moustache and pork scratchings.

"Ah, a young Iomedan: to virtue!"

He raises his glass in a toast.

"The scratchings here are excellent: good choice."

"You would be correct sir but that is not a hard observation to make given the significance of this location to Pathfinders." Valtyra doffs her cloak and folds it neatly on the bench before taking the offered seat. "If I might ask what is it that had you so engrossed this day?"

Valtyra stands just brief to better adjust her skirt nand resumes her seat. She also takes a half a moment to flag down a waitress for a glass of wine. "May I offer you a drink sir?"

"I am Valtyra." she says with a slight nod of her head. "How would you prefer I address you sir?"

"Yargos Gill is my name. A pleasure to meet you, Valtyra. I would not refuse a glass of red: the house vintage is passable but I would recommend the Sante-Lymirin."

He flips the book to the front-plate and Valtyra can see the title: 'By the Light of our Ancestors', "I've been reading about Shizuru, A Tien sun goddess, it's all very intriguing. Did you know, Minkai's emperors claimed to be her descendants?!"

Kvina laughs a little at Gale's antics. "You have the talent to be an actress! And thanks for the milk and scratchings, I try not to drink on assignment. It makes it impossible to shoot straight!" She hands over the price of the food and drink with a few extra coins.

At the table she returns the man's toast. "To virtue! I'm also glad to hear these are good, I'd been afraid I made a mistake. Would you like some," she says, offering the bag. "Frankly there's more here than I can finish. Oh, and I'm Kvina, by the way and you my good sir?"

Sesotho takes his drink and joins Valtyra at the scholar's table. "You study other cultures?"

"I did not know that. Please feel free to enlighten me." Valtyra lets out a soft giggle as she finishes the sentence. She also takes a moment to check on the others at the bar to see if they have been able to obtain the package that Venture Captain Drang requested.

Gill turns to Sesotho, "|From time to time... my main field of interest is military history. Absalom is the perfect place for such a study: the siege towers are a constant reminder of war, even in a city which has never fallen to invaders."

He then addresses Valtyra with an old adage, "Well, first you must pay the scholar's price: tell me something new about you or your people, and I will tell you more of Shizuru from my studies."

The Sarenite takes one of Kvina's offered treats, "I am Aram bin Kaleel."
Aram gives Kvina a careful look, "You are a new Pathfinder, I think. Tell me: how prepared for a field agent's life do you believe you are?"

Merisiel, meanwhile, is rapt by the halfling's tale.

WHen the tale is over, Merisiel will make her way back towards the bar, though she might get distracted by others... the half=orcs look intriguing, especially since they carry wayfinders.

"Hi, I'm Merisiel... you two are pathfinders? You sure look like you're having a good time. Your last mission must have been successful. I'd love to hear about it, if you've the time."

The Sarenite takes one of Kvina's offered treats, "I am Aram bin Kaleel."

Aram gives Kvina a careful look, "You are a new Pathfinder, I think. Tell me: how prepared for a field agent's life do you believe you are?"

Kvina gives a broad smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Aram." After his question though her smile turns a bit wooden, before fading completely. She glances around before continuing in a low voice. "To be honest, I don't know how well prepared I am. You might have heard of my parents, Ian and Jocelyn Oathkeeper. Father was one of the biggest forces behind the Society's involvement in the Worldwound a few years ago, and Mother is famous for being one of the youngest Pathfinders to banish a demon at age fifteen on her confirmation. They've been telling me stories and preparing me since before I could walk. But, honestly... " With this she pauses, hesitant to continue.

After a second, with tears in her eyes, she continues, "I'm afraid I'm not ready. That I'm not good enough to be a Pathfinder like my parents. That I'm going to let them, everyone, down."

She gives a wide smile and slight nod at seeing that he knows the true price of knowledge. "Almost one thousand years ago during the time of the Shining Crusade many celestial beings fought along side forces of man as they battled the Whispering Tyrant. It is to this time period that I have been able to trace my ancestry. Due to the my nature I can only assume, as I have no true way of knowing at this point, that someone in my family line was involved in a relationship of some sort with one or possibly more celestial beings. Now that bit of heritage has decided to make itself known in me."

"My name is Sesotho. I am Zenj," the arcanist begins. "Do you know of Old Mage Jatembe or the Magaambya?"

The Zenj man waits for a signal from Gill before proceeding. "The Magaambya is the oldest academy in the world. Far older than any university in Absalom and older than any that the Tian lay claim to." Sesotho goes on about the exploits of Jatembe and the Ten Magic Warriors.

"Ahem," Quitus coughs, still standing by the counter. "I'd like to repeat my order. Wine. Chelish Red, if you happen to have it in stock."

While he is waiting for his drink, he observes the other Pathfinders mingling and blabbering around. Quintus frowns. What benefit could such meaningless exchange of words bring to these people? How does it contribute to the mission? Speaking of which...

"Madame Gale, may I inquire when your colleague will be returning? I'd rather get on with our mission as soon as possible."

@MerisielThe two turn to face you and their faces are lit by easy smiles.
"Hello there, Miss Merisiel: I'm Shrade Boarktusk." says the woman.
The man cuts in, "And I'm Garl Boartusk."
Then they both speak in unison, "No relation..." and burst out laughing.

After a moment, their laughter fades and Garl shakes Merisiel by the hand, "Excuse us, we are in fact, twins."
He grins impishly at his sister, "Father wanted a girl..."
She cuts in, "Mother wanted a son..."
"... everybody wins!" they both say together.

"Sorry, we don't do that all the time, I promise," Shrade says.

The two chat merrily, happily sharing tales of adventure and poking fun at each other.

@Kvina "Ah, better modest than arrogant." He takes a sip of his drink.
"I must be honest with you, I have met your father, fought alongside him. I dont' know him well but... I don't think he measured people by their achievements, but by their intentions. There were great Pathfinders at the Worldwound, including great traitors..." as his voice trails off Aram stares into the middle distance.
"Ahem-hrem." he clears his throat.
"Now then, let's see: what should a pathfinder carry to prepare themselves for swarms?" his eyes peer keenly at you over his mug as Aram takes a sip of his drink.

@Valtyra and Sosotho
Yargos Gill listens with great interest to your stories, then begins to weave his own, telling two tales of Shizuru at once, "...this account tells us that Shizuru created Golarion when... however early Tian records barely mention the sun god and some worship him as an aspect of Sarenrae in..."
He emphasises the importance of research and that you can never learn the whole truth from a single source.
"I know stories, Valtyra, of women who fell asleep on the altars of Empyreal Lords and produced lines of Aasimar, and others who bedded angels and died without offspring. Similarly, there are texts which make Jatembe a semi-literate idiot-savant, while others proclaim him to have stolen magic from the gods and brought it to all mankind."
He scratches his beard, "Your tales may well be true, they ring true, but you should always be cautious, always willing to re-evaluate your stories. Why, when I was a lad I..."

For those who love dissecting every statement, Yargos Gill is a joy. For those more laid-back, he is hard work.

@Quintus "Sorry, my duck, If you're wallet will stretch to it, we've got some Jeggare '02, la vigne gracieuse" She reaches for an unopened bottle and a corkscrew, "I'm sure a lordling such as yourself will bear the cost: one glass, one measure."
Heryn pauses to let you decide. "Or this is a more affordable, and very agreeable, vintage from Galt..."

After serving Quintus she calls through the door behind the bar, "Hey, Carende, don't you like working here?!"

The sound of hurried footsteps suggests you won't have long to wait.

@Kvina "Ah, better modest than arrogant." He takes a sip of his drink.

"I must be honest with you, I have met your father, fought alongside him. I dont' know him well but... I don't think he measured people by their achievements, but by their intentions. There were great Pathfinders at the Worldwound, including great traitors..." as his voice trails off Aram stares into the middle distance.
"Ahem-hrem." he clears his throat.
"Now then, let's see: what should a pathfinder carry to prepare themselves for swarms?" his eyes peer keenly at you over his mug as Aram takes a sip of his drink.

Kvina takes a deep breath and stares at the ceiling for a few moments, blinking hard. "You're right he doesn't. I forget to tell myself that sometimes..."

As she looks the man in the face again, her easy smile from earlier is back, if a little dimmer. "Now that's easy. First having a few bottles of acid, alchemist's fire or other things that make a good splash when thrown is a must. Having a bottle or two of swarm repellant is a good idea, but that alone won't save you, just make you less appetizing. If you have the gold for it, a swarmbane clasp is always worth it and magical weapons, especially a flaming or whatnot one, can be a good back up if you don't have enough acids."

With her bit finished she pauses for a bit to take a drink of her milk and eat a scratching with a slightly pensive look on her face. "Ah shoot! I knew I forgot to buy something when I restocked yesterday; I don't have any acids! I need to pick some up tomorrow."

Valtyra sits in rapt attention as Yargos Gill speaks. As he finishes his tale she takes a sip of her wine. "Mmmmm... A fascinating tale to be sure. You of course are quite correct that fact must be continually reevaluated when new information is brought to light that may invalidate the fact that we believe."

@Kvina Aram smiles at the young paladin's recital, "Nobody is ready for their first few missions, not really, the best one can achieve is to be prepared."
He tips his head approvingly, "You will be prepared."

Even as she peers at the wine rack, Heryn is interrupted by the arrival of her wayward barkeep and takes the opportunity to hang her apron by the bar and gesture to Quintus to follow her, "Get your friends, we'll go see about getting Drendle Drang as drunk as a skunk."