Welcome to the Tier 3-4 Core run if the Special: Year of the Shadow Lodge.
Please introduce your character here, after you have added your pertinent reporting details in the discussion tab.
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A middle-aged half-elf with a long, scraggly brown beard, dressed in a breastplate made from some kind of green leather, over which he wears a well-used green cloak, cheerfully waves to the assembled Pathfinders.
"Hello! My name is a Radagast."
Suddenly, there comes a rumbling sound, and then a noise that is somewhere between a screech and a growl, as the shadows behind him move, revealing a small, owl-headed, bear-bodied beast, covered in downy-feathers.
"That's Fluffy!", Radagast states cheerfully. "He's a cute little thing," he says, scratching the back of the owlbear's neck, which causes it to chortle musically.
"I am still training him - he likes me, and leaves me alone, but has a tendency to bite if he gets startled by anyone else."
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The human monk stood far back from the dirty looking human and his .... companion.
Pau was dressed in a fine explorer's outfit, as befitting a man of his station. He was broad shouldered, with an air of uncomfortableness, waiting to see who his new travelling ... companions might be. Hopefully no more dirty agents. There's no rule that says we can't bathe, and act civilized, he thinks, looking around at the gathering.
"Pleasure, I'm sure. You can call me Pau. And keep that thing over there, unless you have a muzzle for it..,."
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Prisim smiles and runs up to give Pau a hug.
"Hey there big guy! Long time no see? You know, if you grew your hair, you might like kind of cute."
She giggles a little and then introduces herself to the rest of the group.
"Hi everyone. I'm Prisim! One of the Sisters of Shelyn! Well, that is what we called ourselves. Pau was with us too. But he isn't a sister. Brother of Shelyn doesn't alliterate though, so he's an honorary girl!"
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Caerwynn turns from a disappointing market stall to notice several other Pathfinders nearby, and decides to say hello. "Fine day, isn't it?" she smiles, flashing the Pathfinder hand signal greeting. "I'm Caerwynn. Heading to the Irorium as well?" Her appearance is fairly unremarkable for a Pathfinder--explorer's gear attached sporadically around worn and comfortable clothing, anchored by a heavy pack--with the exception of her wild, utterly wind-swept hair that seems to flow in negligible breezes of its own accord.
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Pau shook his head at seeing Prisim walk through the door. Shes a bit of a headache, he thought, but he couldn't help himself but to like her. "Ah yes, pleasure to see you again, milady. How goes the service? Where are your mates? Any words from them recently?". He was a bit relieved to not take on the whole Shelyn's Sisters crew at once!
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"Not seem them recently.." she says sadly.
"Well, not since that wierd trip into the memories of Venture Captain..."
She looks around the group.."Well, you remember."
She gives Caerwynn a big smile. "Yay, another girl. We have to stick together. So many boys in these teams. My but that pack looks heavy."
The City of Absalom is abuzz with excitement.
The streets are full of revellers and feasting, as residents celebrate the city’s independence from tyranny. All seem most eager to witness the evening’s biggest event, the annual Passion of the First Siege of Absalom, where hundreds dress in elaborate costume, don fake armour and weaponry, and crowd the Irorium floor to participate in a mock combat, reenacting the first siege of Absalom.
As you make your way through the streets, a lean-faced man hiding behind a long cowl slips alongside. “A moment of your time,” he says and pulls you aside, into the shadows of a nearby alley.
“It seems we have two things in common, an eagerness to participate in good celebration, and this…” He punctuates his sentence by holding out an elaborately carved wayfinder, the type only granted to Pathfinders of great importance. “I assure you, its mine,” he adds quickly, closing the device and tucking it back into the folds of his cloak with a quick, easy motion.
Then he continues, “I know a good number of you are already planning to attend the festivities this evening. I need but a casual favor. An old associate of mine, Charvion Eater-of–Bones is set to make an elaborate display of some artifact he claims to have recovered. I’ve not had contact with him in a year or so, and I’ve a curious feeling about the event. More I cannot say; however, I’d appreciate you keeping an eye on whatever stunt he’s considering. He’s a natural charlatan that one. Just keep an eye out is all—nothing serious. Don’t let him know that you’re watching, and do not approach the artifact during the showing. Most importantly, tell no one of this conversation.”
"Charvion? Well, if you have never met him, he will be introduced, I am sure. But just in case..."
The man proceeds to give a brief description of Charvion Eater-of-Bones.
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"An eater of bones..." after a short pause "Sounds like my kind of person" says a a wild looking female with an overly large bastard sword slung across her back
-Posted with Wayfinder
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The man moves away from you, disappearing at the end of the alley in the shadows. Just then, a bird flies from the shadows and flaps overhead.
You all realize you are going to be late for the beginning of the event, and head over to the Irorium. The Irorium has four seating levels.
1. Field Seats: These seats are on the lowest level, closest to the ring. They are reserved for important and wealthy attendees. Field seats are accessible by descending staircases from the mezzanine level.
2. The Mezzanine: This level sits just above the field seats, though it is entirely separated from them. The mezzanine has a slight overhang that extends over the last two rows of field seats. These seats are open to the general public; however, they cost a couple of gold pieces apiece (depending upon the event), and thus their occupants tend to be middle and upper class citizens. The mezzanine is the central hub of the Irorium, providing access to all other levels as well as the most of the exits. It connects to five of the Irorium’s exits: the main gate and the four side exits. From the mezzanine, several sets of stairs climb to the upper levels as well as descend to the field seats.
3. Terrace: The Terrace consists entirely of open-air stone bleachers carved into the structure of the Irorium. The view of the field is still good enough to observe events. A terrace seat usually costs a few silvers. Stairs from the mezzanine provide access to the terrace.
4. Grandstands: This level consists of rickety wooden bleachers. Seats cost a few coppers, or are sometimes free, depending on the event. Stairs from the Terrace provide access to the grandstands
5. The Ledge: The top level of the Irorium is a broad, 15-foot-wide railed ledge that encircles the entire arena. It is so far away from the arena floor that it provides only a pitiful view of events below. Stairs from the grandstands provide access to the ledge.
The Field Seats are the best, of course, but those are reserved for Pathfinders of the highest standing. Your tickets allow you to sit anywhere in mezzanine or the three levels above. There are no specific assigned seats; seating is general and all seating consists of stone or wooden bleachers. Choose your seats.
As you find your seats, the event appears to get underway.
A booming voice rings through the Irorium - "Welcome to Absalom! On this glorious eve we gather again in celebration of our wonderful city and its freedom from tyranny. We present to you all — the Passion of the First Siege of Absalom! A performance great and terrible, reenacting Absalom’s victorious slaughter of Warlord Voradni Voon’s troops upon the city’s rocky shores. As the highlight of this years performance, directly following the Passion, the Pathfinder Society has generously agreed to a public unveiling of its latest acquisition, a terrifying device dredged from ancient ruins in the Mwangi Expanse. And now, ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The performance is about to begin!"
The Passion is long, tediously so, though the rowdy crowds more than entertain themselves, booing and cheering the performers and throwing rotten cabbages. In all, it turns out to be a fine afternoon of celebration.
Following the performance, a large stage is wheeled in to the west side of the Irorium. The stage is covered with a large curtain. Beneath is a scaled set of a ruin and in the center stands a bizarre, cage-like structure of weathered metal covered with strange runes and other ornate etchings. A man who fits the description of the Pathfinder known as Charvion Eater-of-Bones stands next to the cage.
“Good evening, friends! On this auspicious night I present to you an incredible spectacle, the type of which you have never seen before. From the darkest jungles of Mwangi, I have procured an ancient device, an artifact capable of ripping through the very cloth of our reality!” Charvion touches something on the cage, and it falls open, slowly unfolding like a blossoming flower. He steps inside, and the cage begins to close around him, crackling with swirling tendrils of mystic, silvery ether.
In an ominous and unearthly voice he bellows, “I am now fused to the ethereal plane—the realm of ghosts! Ask me what you will, and the dead shall answer through me! But be wary of what you seek, for you may not like the answers.”
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Prisim gets into the spirit of the event.
"What is the Colonel's Secret Ingredient?"
She turns her hair bright green as she say it, and then spends a few coins on some ribs that are for sale.
"I hope we don't have to be vegetarian. But pigs are not very pretty creatures, so surely we would be okay with eating them."
Several aides begin walking up and down the stairs looking for people with questions for Charvion.
"Does anyone have any questions for the dead? No one wants answers from beyond the grave?"
People suddenly start shouting questions for Charvion, and he occasionally goes into an act of contacting some spirits and responding with vague answers.
Every now and then, though, the answer is oddly very specific, and seems to satisfy the asker.
One of the assistants repeats the question, and Charvion replies "Your grandmother swore to herself that she would take her recipes to the grave. Sadly, she still refuses to share..."
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Caerwynn sighs at the sounding of the horns. "Looks like Osprey was right. Most who spend enough time looking down from above usually are, of course..." She unbuckles a well-worn walking stick from its strap on her pack and runs a hand over its length, soft whispers spilling off her tongue. In an instant *crack*, the wood petrifies into a formidable club. "Looks like we'll be fighting our way out of here..." she comments to the others over the din.
You get your spells off before chaos completely ensues.
Moments after the black dragon snatches Charvion away, more dragons arrive. On their backs they carry small groups of goblins.
These dragons swoop into the crowd, causing great fear and panic. As they land (or even before), goblins are jumping from their backs to attack. A few of the less agile ones jump poorly and break bones, flailing about the arena and squealing in pain.
Pau
Prisim
Amiri
Radagast
Caerwynn
Goblins
A patrol of 6 goblins is making its way right for you.
Radagast and Caerwynn each cut a goblin down quickly, while Fluffy damages one pretty severely. Prisim's acid, unfortunately, flies off-target, and narrowly misses an escaping patron.