Open for dotting
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You are joined by a thick dwarf female in full plate and carrying what appears to be a former door on her back. She spits on the floor, disregarding any impoliteness that may come from the action, "Listen up. It seems that every group of Pathfinders I get assigned to has no capabilities of actually saying what bring to the table. So I'm gunna make this clear. Ye tell me yer name and what ye do, or I'm gunna give ya my own name, and yer gunna live wi' it."
She spits again, this time hitting a shoe, and grunts with a mild shrug to the reaction, My name is Sigríðr Jǫrðhamarr. In yer common tongue it's spelled Sigrid. Mah name is not Siggy, and ye call me that and we get to have some words as I tear yer tongue outa yer mouth. I don't take well to stupidity, and you will not mention my race of gender. Do so and I'll crack a kneecap. Got it?"
She shrugs and points to the large set of shields on her back, "I'm her defense, and I'll get in the way of whatever's comin' our way when I can get it to it. I can't get to it, I guarantee I'll make it come to me."
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A thick-featured, gray-skinned, square-of-a-half-orc looks up at Sigríðr’s arrival. He gives an ugly grin at her blunt, no-nonsense introduction, and as he shifts to get a better view, the poor bench under him groans dangerously … barely holding up under the half-orc’s own barrel-bodied weight encased in his own full plate.
He hoists his stein in greeting, his grin widening as he takes in the dwarf. ”That’s a helluva lotta words to come out of a short dwarf chick, Siggy.” He hunkers down behind his shoulder plate, grinning as he braces for the fully-expected rejoinder to his ‘cleverness’.
”I’m Mors.” He taps the long hand-and-a-half sword leaning against the bench. ”The Society mostly sends me when they need somethin' busted up.” He rolls his eyes with a shrug, ”Though I reckon I try to make sure it’s somethin’ needs killin’ first.”
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A tall, heavy, dark-feathered avian man walks over, stepping away from prior conversation. Almost looking uncomfortable in his armor and gear, he laughs as he rubs the back of his neck,
Mors, was it? Might wanna cover your knees there, friend, she doesn't look like the kind to kid.
Extending a hand, or rather a claw, he says with almost perfect pronunciation
The pleasure's mine Miss Jǫrðhamarr. I doubt you'd be surprised, but I've heard everything from "birdman" to "feathers-for-brains", and in a hundred different languages, so don't be expecting any unpleasantries from me. Well, at least not until we've gotten to know each other. Sounds like we all like to be in the frontline grit of battle, so I expect that will be soon.
Sitting down and pulling out a small flask, he takes a quick swig before stowing it back under his armor.
Tends to be the Society calls on me when things need a more... personal touch, or when they need a translator. I prefer to fight with my hands, and as long someone's nearby you're not likely to see me draw a weapon.
He rubs his neck again, and you can make out a faint burn mark resembling a star
Even my armor only came about after my opponents started fighting dirty.
Just try to keep any rockmen and constructs away from me, and I'll be fine. They tend to damage my claws more than I damage them, and sharpening these damned things ain't as fun as you'd think.
Gatherings of Pathfinders always bring great excitement and great anticipation. They also usually take place in more interesting places than a mildly muddy field outside of Absalom.
Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shane observes the Pathfinder agents arriving into the field and calls out "Yes, Pathfinders. A lot of you, certainly. Lovely! Well, find your places in an orderly fashion. We’ve got some truly exciting news today and I can’t wait to get started!”
The sun beats down across this muddy plain, a scant five miles from the walls of Absalom. Fellow Pathfinders gather on all sides, including well-traveled field agents and more permanent staff from the Grand Lodge itself. In the centerof the field stands a wooden platform, raised some ten feet off the ground. The excited chatter drowns out the buzz of summer insects as the gathered adventurers speculate on what’s to come.
You might hear rumors about the Society’s latest activities related to this gathering.
You might analyze some of the markings on the broad field.
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The Taldan kid looks around at the assembling group with a friendly grin, "So, I'm Kiddrik. Most folks call me Kidd. They send me along because .. uh ... sometimes I know stuff. And folks tend to like me."
He realizes he's forgotten something, and nods to the bird on his shoulder, "Oh yah, this is Aska. She's nice."
The thrush, as if on cue, gives a tiny little curtsy.
One of the most famous conflicts here did not even involve Absalom’s army. The Linnorm King Yardvun Skolson clashed with the Thuvian warlord Attagesha hundreds of years ago as both attempted to besiege the city at the same time but refused to share the glory with each. They crippled each other’s forces and were forced to retreat without ever attacking Absalom
Supposedly the Society has reassembled the Sky Key, a dwarven relic it started piecing back together a year ago. The Society has been “secretly” buying up large quantities of sky metal whenever it appears in the market. The Pathfinders have also been recruiting dozens of arcane spellcasters, especially evokers.
The Grand Lodge has been importing all kinds of experts on Dwarven artifice, which seems reasonable—but also experts on Numerian science,
conjurers, mathematicians, and even historians who specialize in Absalom’s earliest history.
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Belvica a female dwarf looking a bit out of the ordinary for most dwarfs looks like she has been living off the land for years. She is wearing armor made from the animal of some sort of savannah animal. She sports an axe and a long bow, with a pleothora of other edged weapons.
Mesa der Belvica Insnare'ba vrom de Mwangeeeeehz. werseunwesa gooring?"
She looks tough but she definitely a friendly sort.
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Sigríðr points at Girzog. "What did I just say bird-brain? That's yer new name. Learn to live wi' it."
At Mors' words you're surprised a dwarf can turn that fast, "Chick? Siggy? What in the nine Hells is wrong wi' you? I ask for one thing, and you're gunna be like that? Typical male half-orc is what you are." She glares through Mors, "If you weren't a Pathfinder, I'd bury you right now. So clean up your act, or let's jes say, I wouldn't be surprised if mah wand stayed in it's sheath while yer lying bleedin'."
She then smiles at Belvica, "At least Drangviit saw fit to create real leadership in this group."
Dekion looked around at the large group gathering which always made him uncomfortable as he was expected to join in the small talk. He always struggled to understand the need for it. There was no place for it in battle. Short and to the point was the best was to communicate. Extra fluff wiLl get you killed. But he did his best and listen.
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A halfling riding a Roc suddenly swoops down and lands next to the group! "Milly! I told you we were going to be late! And now look at us all out of sorts!" The halfling says climbing off the Roc. The Roc gives him an annoyed look and squaks. "It wasnt just my fault! You wanted to fly back home too! We could have been teleported from our last mission but no you wanted to stretch your wings." He then turns to face everyone. "Vash Swiftfeet, at your service." He introduces himself with a little bow. "This is my friend and companion Milly. Sorry that we're late. What did we miss?" He asks sheepishly.
The Society’s efforts have created a bubble of time capturing a moment from the Age of Serpents some 10,000 years prior, when the sprawling city of Sessegishoss covered much of what is now the Isle of Kortos. In this part, the Pathfinders must spread out to explore as much of this summoned serpentfolk city block as they can as the Society’s mages maintain the Sky Key’s temporal bubble. Pathfinder scribes and messengers constantly move between the various agents, alerting them to new developments.
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Kiddrik raises his eyebrows in pleased surprise at Vash’s arrival, and is about to jump into the conversation when Master Shaine kicks things off. He settles for a friendly wave to Sigríðr, Belvica, and Vash before turning and watching the events kick off.
He looks like he couldn’t be more thrilled as each piece of today’s plans are revealed, and as the bubble of time-traveling-mirror-thingy expands, Kiddrik laughs.
”Would you look at that?” he exclaims to what at first seems like the whole group, but then he turns to address the air beside his head. ”No, I’ve never seen nothin’ like it. Have you? No. No. No, I didn’t read it; I’ve never even heard of it. Uh huh. Alright.”
The bird on his shoulder—the opposite shoulder from the direction Kiddrik is speaking—shakes its tiny head. ”You two talk too much,” it says in an annoyed little girl’s voice.
Finally, after the sudden debate slows, he turns back to the group, seeming to realize they’re all still there.
”Uh … sorry,” he says, giving the group an embarrassed look, ”… so, looks like we can check out one of those two places. I say we go for the garden-looking-thing.”
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Sigríðr spits, this time hitting Girzog's taloned foot, "Great, jes great. Jes like the wizards, always gettin' us into stuff we proally shudn't. Well, it's not like we don't have a job tah do."
She looks at Girzog's foot, and then to Girzog himself, "Zoological gardens it is." She hefts her towering shield from her back and starts following Kiddrik in that direction.
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A concerned looks comes across Dekion's face as the plan is unveiled. He watches cautiously as the "bubble" expands, almost expecting something to go wrong. When it stops, he relaxes slightly. He nods in agreement to Sigridr's comment. "True. No matter how much the wizards study, there always seems to be something they didn't expect, and then we have to go clean up the mess." He draws his long sword and looks at the group. "The gardens is fine. Who wants to lead?" he says, not familiar with his companions' abilities.
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Girzog chuckles as Sigríðr eyes him up and down
Yea yea, you're probably thinking the same thing I am. I'll blend in perfectly. Just don't feed me.
He turns to Dekion with a silent, confused look, now being the one eyeing him up and down in his fine armor.
Uh, not to be rude but... you look like a good choice for the front to me. Though, Sigríðr sounded damn proud to defend.
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Sigríðr glares at Belvica, "Do you have cotton in yer mouth? Yer giving us Dwarves a bad name, speak up. I have no idea what yer sayin'."
She throws up her hands with a look of complete disgust on her face, "Dekion, ye seem capable 'nuff, but don't ye think I'm jes givin' up mah responsibilities. I'll go second."
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Sigríðr continues to stare ice through Belvica, "Is that Taldane? Do yah even speak Taldane?"
Sigrid wrinkles her nose and tries again, "DO...YAH...UNDERSTAND...THE...WORDS...COMING...OUT....OF...ME...MOUTH?" Spit flies out of Sigríðr's mouth as she tries yelling slowly at the top of her lungs.
Sigríðr tries in Dwarven, "Talarðu algengar eða þarf ég að þýða?"
Kiddrik thinks hard about what he knows of the ancient lizardfolk. Unfortunately it is so long ago that no sources remain, other than that they were at war with the Azlanti.
You enter the zoological gardens. The stink of animal scat and rotting meat fills this massive cavern. Shelves, passageways, and fixtures have been carved into the wall by careful hands, each stylized to resemble a serpent’s head or body.
Belvica, Aska and Sigríðr come down some stairs and see two lizardfolk that are following a large dinosaur in the distance! They seem to spot you at the same time...
+2 in forest
Initiative
Kiddrik
Sigríðr
Girzog
- - -
Enemy
- - -
Belvica
Dekion
Vash & Aska
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Belvica says " TaлдайHb сломанный язык для меня . Я вырос обучения Гномьих и Полиглот . Не думайте, что кое-что обо мне . Я пойду первым и я не буду слышать ни слова наоборот . Я получил это далеко от моего мастерства и инстинкт . Здесь есть пальмовое вино , это вкусно" in Dwarven
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Dekion watches as the two dwarven women argue. He tries to focus on what Belvica is saying, but he too has difficulty understanding her. When she starts off towards the garden, he shrugs his shoulders. "I guess she's going first," he says to Sigrid. "You can go next and I'll follow you. When we come upon something, you can go to Belvica's left and I'll go to the right. How does that sound?"
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Having survived just enough fights to know when he’s stepped into one, Kiddrik wastes no time.
”Aska! Come on, girl!” the Taldan says as he rushes forward, holding his longpsear defensively in front of him as he begins chanting slow, rhythmic words. The Pathfinders hear the whispers and secrets of combat and bravery reverberating in their minds.
Girzog waits to see what the enemy does while Kiddrik moves forward and casts a spell.
Initiative
Sigríðr
- - -
Enemy
- - -
Belvica
Dekion
Vash & Roc
Kiddrik & Aska
Girzog