Isle of Dread (Inactive)

Game Master Wilmannator

Map | Tactical | Loot


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Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15
Various Goons wrote:
"...illusions!"

Bazsil sneers, as if the pain and burning he feels from his wound is an illusion. He opens his mouth to verbally disabuse the speaker(s) of that notion, pointing out his wound that would have killed a lesser man...when it disappears.

Ah. It's an illusion! I knew it all along!

"It's an illusion! Stop everyone, stop!" Bazsil joins the chorus...before quieting down to listen to the Captain and his pranksters. It's clear from the sneer on Baz's face that he is not happy about being fooled, nor for not being the first to see through it.

* * *
Bazsil pouts his way up the stairs, trying to keep from seeming too grumpy with his new employers. Clearly, these were men of means, and with magical powers too boot.

"I would have killed that clocked crossbowman given another moment, would have enjoyed it as well. He got a lucky lick in against me."

Other than his grousing, he makes no other conversation, still awaiting an explanation.


Female CN Human Guide 3 | HP: 17/25| AC: 19 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +4, CMD: 18 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +8(+10 An), SM: +7(+9 An) | Speed 20ft | Breath: 5/5, Catastrophe: 0/1 | Spells: 2/2| Active conditions: Catastrophe (+1 AC)

As the phantasms fade around her, Sumaru smiles in annoyance. Anger at the hooded man -- at Krinst -- still pounds at her.

She slides her spear back into her quiver and walks over to retrieve her trident, absently patting Barley's flank and nickering to him as she does so.

When she bends to pick up her trident, she sees a pile of sweepings beside it, and she picks up a pebble and a splintered piece of wood half the size of her thumb.

Shaking her head, Sumaru begins walking back to the stairs. "Blighted Avistani theatrics," she complains conversationally. "I have references. I know I'm not the best guide in Garund, but I'm the best who would consider working for you lot." When she gets within 20 feet of Barbarosa she flings the pebble at him, and a few steps later tosses the wood at Krinst.

"Just checking," she smiles, finally letting her anger leak out of her. "Apparently in this city you can never be too careful."

Thrown at Barbarosa: 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (17) + 5 - 2 = 20 Base - range
Thrown at Krinst: 1d20 + 5 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (2) + 5 + 1 - 2 = 6 Base + anger - range

Touch AC...no damage. Just want to see what happens. :)


(GM Damo) | Map | Tactical

"Plenty of drink this way, Gratum," replies the captain, gesturing to the office, "What kind of captain doesn't keep a good store of rum in his room?"

Barbarosa chuckles as the plank bounces off his light shift. He notices that Sumaru misses Krinst and happily picks up the plank and slings it at the elderly noble.

Barbarosa ranged touch attack (modifier deliberately obscured): 1d20 ⇒ 11

As expected, the plank bounces off Lord Krinst. He bristles somewhat at the irreverent treatment, but grins along with the captain.

No need to move tokens (but feel free to). I revealed the map before the fight ended, in case it ended up in the office. Also, I made the map myself - so it's got some of the "props" that I'll use in it, and I wanted everyone to see.


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15

If Bazsil is amused that lumber is being thrown at nobility, he does not show it over his grumpiness.

He struts into the office and takes a sulking seat on the treasure chest in the corner, leaning his lucerne hammer, Lucy, against the wall near him.

He watches as each new person enters the room, his dark brown eyes taking in every detail and mannerism of the eight + 1 yak who are, apparently, new to the Captain.

A dwarf.
Another dwarf. With a yak...they literally crashed the party and...were they meant to? He's likely working with the Captain as well. Clever, Captain. Baz smirks smugly, having figured something out.
A brute. I like him.
The webmage. He seems a frail thing.
The archer. I saw her shoot a bow, then the trident. Interesting choice of weapons.
A woman. What a mug on that one.
An eighthling. Nice harping, but he's still short.

"Hmmprh."


Dwarf God of Pastry Magicks 4 | HP: 39/39 | AC: 17 (12 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 17 | F: +8, R: +3, W: +7; (+4 spells/SLAs) (+2 poisons) | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +3 | Speed 20ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: 1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions: None.

"A test?" Elon mutters to himself. "Oh well, we've been hired by worse! Right, Barley?" he grins jovially as he turns to his beloved yak.


Steelkeg Yak 4 | HP: 22/22 | AC: 17 (11 Tch, 16 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 17 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +1 | Init: +1 | Perc: +0 | Speed 40ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: One day... | Active conditions: None.

"Mooo..." utters the yak in response, not quite knowing what is going on with all these fake people and painful, but not painful shiny things.


Dwarf God of Pastry Magicks 4 | HP: 39/39 | AC: 17 (12 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 17 | F: +8, R: +3, W: +7; (+4 spells/SLAs) (+2 poisons) | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +3 | Speed 20ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: 1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions: None.

Elon doesn't miss a beat. "Remember that pale fellow in Ustalav? Kept telling us that he'd buy my blood from me. Something about the 'Red T', but I'm pretty sure he was just a vampire. Still he gave us a pretty good deal on the stuff and I wasn't using it!" he chuckles as he climbs the stairs to follow the rest of the group.


Male LN Dwarf, King’s Engineer 4 | HP: 33/33| AC: 18 (13 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 16 | F: +3, R: +7, W: +2 | Init: +5 | Perc: +7, SM: +1 | Speed 20ft | wand of cure light 50/50; wand of enlarge person 50/50 [ooc]Active conditions: None.

"You know I haven't had rum in at least 4 hours, 'course it was about the only drink on the rickety boat that brought me here. Got used to squirting a little lime in though. Do you have any? Don't matter, got some in my pocket." Gratum says sitting down. Then he pulls out a lime and a small knife cuts the wedge and drops it in the glass of rum. "Thank ya, sir."

"Now, brass tacks... I've never been tested with illusions before, kinda surprised really, and it don't really phase me that you did." Must be cause I've known too many gnomes "It seems to not sit well with these blokes, Eh?"


(GM Damo) | Map | Tactical
Bazsil Grimalkin wrote:
An eighthling. Nice harping, but he's still short.

"Eighthling". I love it: the volumetric description of the race!

While Wrigley waits uncertainly at the door, Barbarosa turns to him, "Hey there! Musician! Please close that door behind you when you finally decide to come in. Though I don't suppose you'll be able to close it properly after the damage you folk did. Heh. Why do you adventurer types never check to see if a door is open before trying to unlock it or break it down? Professional paranoia, I'm guessing." The Captain chuckles as he makes his way into his study.

"Oh, and Marcus, do have another check to make sure no-one is listening in," Barbarosa waves dismissively at the wizard. Marcus glowers at the captain, still rubbing his bruised ribs, "Oh, yes, sorry about that, Marcus. You really are a powerful wizard, and worthy of more than my callous punches. Now please go check that we don't have anyone scrying on this conversation, otherwise it will all have been for naught. Thank you.

"He really is a very powerful wizard," Barbarosa confides in the others, while pouring a glass of rum for himself and then Gratum and then whoever else wants one - he wrinkles his nose at the suggestion of lime - before continuing, "Marcus can do much more than that illusion out there. Oh, 'tis a powerful spell to be sure, but he has even more powerful ones in his spellbook, don't ye be doubting it!"

After downing his rather large rum in a single gulp, Barbarosa proceeds to unconcernedly strip off and rummage through his dresser for something to wear - in that order. His grey-framed manhood wobbles about for all to see, ladies and men alike. "Sorry, not much cause for privacy on a boat... 'specially not a boat like the Audacious... " he mumbles to the women present while making an unholy mess of his drawers. Eventually, he has the makings of an outfit - still not quite as dashing as the clothes he wore at the Hall of Wonders, but clothing more befitting a captain.

"Now! Before we get too much farther, we'd best be on with the introductions," Barbarosa declares. He notes that Lord Pelius Krinst has already taken a seat behind the desk, and so just stands next to the nobleman. "I have had the pleasure of meeting Mister Bazsil Grimalkin earlier today, in a previous life. Quite the study on human nature. He is to be our anthropologist. This happy dwarf with the lime in his rum is, if I'm not very much mistaken, Gratum Engeneer. He's the King's Engineer, and a fine one at that. The rest of you, I'm assuming are answering my various messages and advertisements asking for help. Please, tell me who you are and what positions you are going to be filling. I'm sure Bazsil and Gratum will have some more to say about themselves also. When that's over, I'll fill you in on what you've missed, including my reincarnation!"

Barbarosa strokes his beard, "Oh, and I think we've all heard your thoughts on this second test, tell me what you thought about the first one: the Hall of Wonders exhibit itself. I know not all of you had a chance to look it all over, so please discuss amongst yourselves what your findings were, and feel free to peruse my personal collection from the Isle of Dread." Barbarosa gestures to a bookshelf next to where Bazsil is sitting. Aside from a few dusty tomes that look like journals, the bookshelf is devoid of books. It is instead crammed with a plethora of artefacts from the Isle itself.

So, please read back over your spoilered stuff. You can just search for "result", I put that on every spoiler. Page 2 has most of it, page 1 has one for Gado. Discuss it in character with the others if you like, or just blurt out what you think you know. If you haven't got any spoilered stuff, pick up something from the shelf, describe it to me (briefly if you prefer) and I will give you a spoilered reply with more info about it. Oh, and introduce yourselves too. Don't forget to include a brief résumé for your chosen role.


Male NG Human Lorekeeper 4 | HP: 30/30 | AC: 13 (13 Tch, 10 Fl) | CMB: 0, CMD: 13 | F: +3, R: +5, W: +3 | Init: +9 | Perc: -2, SM: -2 | Speed 30ft | Hero: 3/3, Shift (10'): 8/8 | Extend: 2/3, Pearl: 2/2 | Active conditions: mage armor-8hrs

Gado looks on at the strange scene in front of him. He turns to the halfling near him as they go upstairs and whispers, "Do they realize that if it was an illusion they could cut with their sword, the piece of wood will still bounce off?"

Suddenly worried the others might hear he changes to a loud whisper, that isn't really any quieter, "It's not like it's a ghost..."

Flushing read when a few heads turn to hear him, he continues on in silence into the office.

Better have one of those drinks Gado nervously takes an offered glass of rum and raises a shaky hand to his mouth, nearly sloshing the golden liquid out as he does. He takes a swig and his eyes bulge nearly out of his head, and it takes everything he has not to spit it out. Using all of his willpower, he swallows the liquid down, and manages to suppress his gag reflex. Mostly.

Red faced and now sweaty, he changes to very small sips as he listens to the others converse.

She would let Bear face have you... that is what she would do... Gado lets out a full body shudder at the thought, which everyone else mistakes for his inability to enjoy the rum. Hadn't considered that before. Yup, death by sword-beak is a hundred times better than that. I think I just convinced myself that I am all in on this...

Setting the drink down, wanting to focus, Gado calms his shaking nerves and listens.


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Male NG Human Lorekeeper 4 | HP: 30/30 | AC: 13 (13 Tch, 10 Fl) | CMB: 0, CMD: 13 | F: +3, R: +5, W: +3 | Init: +9 | Perc: -2, SM: -2 | Speed 30ft | Hero: 3/3, Shift (10'): 8/8 | Extend: 2/3, Pearl: 2/2 | Active conditions: mage armor-8hrs

Cyrus'd!

Gado doesn't hesitate, speaking up first a stepping forward.

"A pleasure to meet you sir. Captain. Sir Captain. *ahem*. I am Gado Folklo." he says with a bow.

"I fancy myself the foremost knowledge on arcane and planar lore in Magnimar. Maybe even beyond. I'll be honest I spend so much time in the library I'm not sure if there is anyone else saying the same thing. There might be, but that is besides the point."

Slow down big shot. You've got to sell it. Don't make yourself look like an idiot, or it's Bear-Face's bed you will be chained to, not Lanvi's...

"I am a lorekeeper by trade, and I have spent most of my life studying the planes and the arcane mysteries that are tied to them. I speak eight languages besides the common tongue, including Abyssal. Which happens to be the tongue of the plane that mirrored black onyx came from, though it was no simple onyx. It was actually a planar sending mirror. I still can't shake the name of the demon imprisoned within out of my head, but I refuse to speak it aloud, lest I inadvertently release him from the abyssal plane to ours."

Gado pauses a moment to clear his throat. "As a testament to my knowledge of the arcane, I can tell you that the fire-colored ruby in the hall was a most exquisite and rare find. Easily worth 15,000 gold, I am positively giddy about researching just how much arcane power a gem that flawless could hold." He is momentarily distracted by his own thoughts, before focusing again.

Wait... that doesn't actually show anything of my extensive knowledge of the arcane. What else did I see? Oh yea...

"There was a finely crafted clay pot on display that glowed with a faint, magical aura. I wasn't able to tell exactly what kind of magical enchantment was on that pot, but it did have faint traces of illusion magic. Perhaps it was meant to fool non-natives into thinking it was something more valuable than it was. I would really need to get my hands on it to make sure." Gado delivers his last summation and sits down.

Uh... did I just tell them that they were fooled by a simple magical enchantment? Not good Gado. Way to point out their incompetence. If I don't get hired, maybe I can get that kobold illusion to eat me...


Male LN Dwarf, King’s Engineer 4 | HP: 33/33| AC: 18 (13 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 16 | F: +3, R: +7, W: +2 | Init: +5 | Perc: +7, SM: +1 | Speed 20ft | wand of cure light 50/50; wand of enlarge person 50/50 [ooc]Active conditions: None.

Gratum gets up from his chair, and swirls the drops of rum left before finishing it and setting the glass upon the table. Then takes a look at the baubles on the shelf.

Appraise: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23 (Another +2 for items of Dwarven interest...)

"I'm Gratum. King's Engineer. I've served my time in the army as a sapper, and -captured- as a miner. Tried my hand in the Temples of Torag, but always have found monuments and architecture to be more challenging. I've delved deep into some of the oldest and most forgotten of my peoples ruins, and dodged plenty of still functioning traps too boot. What's more, if its made of stone I'll show you the cracks that shine more brilliantly than a mad man seeing a rainbow."

Double Rainbow!:
https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web& amp;cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CB8QtwIwAGoVChMIxfeRg-vKxwIVhBaSCh 1CUQXF&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DOQSNhk5ICTI&e i=jtXfVcX4OYStyATCopWoDA&usg=AFQjCNFlGR1fmg2UVI9P4EWGXlKyB6JcwQ&sig 2=6cwgXBv7X_BtjkzOb1RNMQ

"Were these ancient artifacts, captain, or were some of them newer? A lost island; found. Is that with or without living peoples on it?"


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15
Captain Rory Barbarosa wrote:
"I have had the pleasure of meeting Mister Bazsil Grimalkin earlier today, in a previous life. Quite the study on human nature. He is to be our anthropologist. "

Bazsil nods his head to the group as he is introduced.

"People call me 'The Grim'," Bazsil says.

1d20 - 2 ⇒ (14) - 2 = 12 Bluff

Sense Motive > 12:
People don't all him 'The Grim', but he wishes it were so, probably.

"And this here is Lucy," Bazsil continues, holding up his lucerne hammer. "And I don't owe an explanation to any of you about my skills. I am what I am and know what I know. I expect you to do you jobs and let me do mine."

Bazsil flicks his oiled dark curls smugly, and reclines again atop his chest.

Way to make friends there, Baz. You done real good.


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Male CG Human Bodyguard 4 | HP: 10 [49 rage]/41; DR 2/-| AC: 19 [rage]; 21 (13 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 21, Att +9 [+11] (2d6+7 [+9, PA, witch hunter]) | F: +6, R: +4, W: +4 [+6 rage/+9 superstition] | Init: +4 | Per: +8, SM: +1 | Speed 30ft | Active conditions: None.

Ciaran pauses, impressed. It's not often he meets someone even more abrasive than himself.


(GM Damo) | Map | Tactical

"Thank you for introducing yourself, Mister Folklo, and interesting observations!" Captain Barbarosa replies, "I am most impressed that you recognized the planar sending mirror. It is related to my last expedition to the Isle, but not in the way we presented it. The mirror is not a finding but something that predates the expedition. The demon Terronathoraxius," Gado is too stunned to leap across the desk and clap Barbarosa's mouth shut, "has already been summoned and vanquished. Would that Marcus was as good at reading lore as he is at reading spells. Then, perhaps he would have recognized the item and saved me the trouble of killing a Glabrezu - oh, with help of course! Then, though, I guess Marcus would never have been so indebted to me as to help with all of the insane preparations we've had to make. He's just too terrible at his studies to be our lore keeper on this mission.

"Still, you can't blame Marcus too much, the demon did offer him quite the boost to his magical abilities. I believe he would have gotten it, too... moments before he was slain by a demonic host. So, speak the name Gado, it is safe to do so for another one hundred and one years. After saying it about the twentieth time, you should notice a significant decrease in the name pressing on your brain. Was it twenty, Marcus?"

"Get bent!"

"I think it was twenty," the captain assures Gado, "Now, as to your assessment of the ruby, I'm somewhat less impressed. You got the value correct, for sure, but there is something else... ah, Gratum is handling a similar piece! What do you think of that? Perhaps our builder will have more to say."

Gratum holds in his hands an exquisite ruby, also colored in flame like the one Gado saw. Gado can tell, even from this distance, that the gem Gratum is holding is not as well cut as the one on display - probably the reason it is here on the cupboard and not in the exhibit.

Gratum appraise results:

The gem is indeed quite valuable, worth about 9,000gp.... or it would be if it weren't a fake. Two things are wrong with the ruby:
  • A yellow dye has been incredibly carefully applied to the gemstone. It would be impossible to tell without handling it, but minute amounts of dye are coming off on Gratum's hands.
  • The gemstone has also been artificially enlarged. As Gratum knows from his years in a mining community, ruby crystals don't form internal clusters that large. The ruby is a real ruby, but it should be roughly half the size.

All that in mind, it is still a valuable stone, but worth only about 800gp.

---

"Now as for that clay pot," Barbarosa turns back to Gado while Gratum studies the flame-hued ruby, "It did indeed have some kind of illusion cast upon it and it was intended to fool foreigners, but it wasn't to fool them into thinking the pot was valuable. Any food cooked in the pot had an enchantment placed upon it to mask the taste of poison. Not the friendliest tribe, that one. Well done all around, Mister Folklo! A keen eye you have there."


(GM Damo) | Main Map | Big Map | Tactical | The Audacious | Loot

From his seat behind the desk, Lord Krinst looks meaningfully at Bazsil, "Quite the tight-lipped introduction there, old chap. I was hoping you'd tell me what you thought of that sword I saw you eyeing off."

Also, apologies, but I suck at typing the word "result" in find. There are more knowledge spoilers on page 1 than just Gado's.


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Female N Human (Kellish) Archeologist 4 | HP: 25/25 (9/9 temp) | AC: 16 (12 tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +2, CMD: 14 | F: +2, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +0, SM: +0 | Speed 30ft | Spells: Possibly || Active conditions: Mage Armor, False Life, Comp Languages

Aeslin ponders what has been said, and then mutters to her friend, "Sebastian, are we supposed to tell what we know? Yes? Well, ok. But I don't know how any of this pertains to why we are here. Oh, that's right, we were applying for a job, even if I didn't know it. You are sooo smart, Sebastian!"

Aeslin straightens her dress, and stands up a little straighter, apparently taking on the pose of a lecturing professor. She looks around the room for a lecturn, and finding something that would pass, she moves behind it.

"It was after the death of Aroden and the upheavals that followed that certain citizens of Korvosa became severely disenfranchised by their government. Fed up, they followed the paladin Alcaydian Indros and his three companions, the adventurers known as the Wardens, to the west. His visions took them to the Seacleft, and the site of an ancient Thassilonian ruin, where they founded Magnimar, city where 'freedom can never be lost'.

"However, one Lord-Mayor of Magnimar when he ordered the building of monuments within Magnimar by reaping building materials from the Irespan - the Thassilonian bridge that stretches some 400ft from the Seacleft. Among other buildings, he built the Arvensoar, Magnimar's tallest building and home of its military. When it was completed, calamity struck Magnimar in the form of the marauding, spidery shriezyx who came from beneath the irespan. Cailyn and Romre Vanderale, the Twin Wizards defeated the shriezyx, but ever since, quarrying stone from the Irespan has been illegal."

She thinks a moment, and looks around the room. "Wait, is that the Care Baird over there? Oh, no... I believe it is just a column in the style common in Azlanti cities right before Starfall. Oh, and on that... I believe that Aroden has been reborn. I believe I met him a few months ago back in Absalom. It seems that he has joined the Pathfinder Society to 'better discover himself'. Many doubt that he truly is the Last Azlanti, because he has some significant gaps in his memory, and has to still discover much about himself. He also doesn't look exactly like Aroden is usually depicted.

"Oh! I remember, someone was asking what guise someone would be? I would be The Scholar! The Scholar is often depicted writing on a piece of parchment and then reading from it to passersby, just as Aroden was said to smile on those who recorded history and other knowledge to ahare it with others.

"Finally, despite being intertwined with Aroden's fate, Magnimar primarily worships the goodly Empyreal Lords, primarily due to the appearance of the famous Angel of Arvensoar (who was seen by their founder, Alcaydian Indros as a sign that he should indeed settle in Magnimar under these ruins of ancient Thassilon)."

She looks rather pleased with her self as she asks, "Any questions?"


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Female CN Human Guide 3 | HP: 17/25| AC: 19 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +4, CMD: 18 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +8(+10 An), SM: +7(+9 An) | Speed 20ft | Breath: 5/5, Catastrophe: 0/1 | Spells: 2/2| Active conditions: Catastrophe (+1 AC)

Sumaru stands in a corner of the room with her hands folded and listens politely to people who love the sound of their own voice. Haven't met an Avistani yet who didn't use ten words when one would do -- except for the occasional dwarf. She takes note of the self-reported deeds and accomplishments of her new companions, so that she could later compare them against her future observations.

When the room falls silent for longer than three hearbeats Sumaru begins to speak on her own behalf.

"I am here because you have pierced Gozreh's veil and explored a land zie had hidden. At least one on this foolish venture should explore Gozreh's land with an eye towards hir wisdom and teachings rather than plunder and exploitation."

"But that is not why you will hire me. You will hire me because I have been guiding pompous Avistani into the jungle's heart since I was seven years old, and I have never lost a client, be they drunkards, idiots, braggarts, or fops." Sumaru's gaze is carefully focused on the surface of the desk as she speaks, not at any person in the room.

"The proof of my sincerity is that I have traveled from Sargava to this distant country of devils and thralls, wearing your quaint native costume." Sumaru rolls her shoulders to emphasize her vintage Chelaxian clothing and abominable hat.

"The proof of my suitability is that after surveying your "Hall of Wonders" I can report that there was much there that rang false. The animals displayed were -- as one might expect --not native to Garund or Avistan, but they also appeared quite unnatural. Your 'sword-beak' had been altered in some way I could not get close enough to ascertain. I saw a cat with teeth so comically large it would have trouble surviving in the wild. There was at least one small creature which appeared to be ensorcelled. Perhaps these things accurately reflect the state of the wildlife you encountered, or perhaps these are enhancements you have made yourselves -- your talents with illusion have been amply demonstrated. I make no judgments at this time...I simply bear witness to what I have seen."

Sumaru sweeps her gaze around the room, stopping when she meets that of Captain Barbarosa. "My apologies, sir, for being so long-winded. You either want this expedition to succeed -- and will hire me -- or you don't. The choice is yours."


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15
Isle of Dread wrote:
"Quite the tight-lipped introduction there, old chap. I was hoping you'd tell me what you thought of that sword I saw you eyeing off."

Bazsil gives the 'Lord' a look in return.

Who are you eying off, old man? Don't you eye off on me, I'll split your skull.

After a moment, his look softens as he doesn't want to burn any bridges, especially amongst those who might be his traveling companions on a long sea voyage.

"You mean, *that* sword, do you?" Baz stands again, this time not taking Lucy in his hands.

"You *do* understand that the hilt itself was nice, but unremarkable," Baz says condescendingly, though he's trying to keep that tone out of his voice. "Those of you who are observant like me, would note the carved hilt depicts two men climbing a palm tree (on either side of the blade) to tap some palm wine (center on the hilt) for a well-deserved drink at the end of the day. And you might note a gourd hanging from the branches towards the top of the tree and another one standing at the base of the tree."

"I quickly surmised that the gourd that is hanging at the top would have been placed there for some time and it would be collecting the wine from the tree drop by drop. The men then climb up, remove the full gourd and replace it with an empty one to tap more wine. Drinking palm wine at the end of a hard day’s work is a very typical scene," Baz continues.

Bazsil looks around to make sure he has everyone's attention as what he is about to say is assuredly more important than anything they might saying or doing.

"The interesting part of it was the metal itself: steel. From what I saw of the other weapons, and my extensive knowledge of anthropology, metals such as steel are not known in that region, nor are those that lived there supposed to even have the technology to forge steel," Baz finishes with a smug expression as he keeps the best tidbit for last. "In addition, if you have keen eyes like me, you would notice that the men on the hilt are not men at all, but apes. Yes, damn stinking dirty apes."

With that, Bazsil saunters back to sit on his chest.


(GM Damo) | Main Map | Big Map | Tactical | The Audacious | Loot

Barbarosa tries his best to stay awake during the lecture on the history of Magnimar, but Lord Krinst nods along enthusiastically.

"Quite right, my dear, quite right," enthuses Krinst when Aeslin finishes, "You clearly know your history, and would put many a Magnamarian scholar to shame with your understanding of the city's past. You will make a fine archaeologist for Captain Rory to have along for his journey. If I may, though, I do have just one question: what does any of that have to do with the exhibition?"

Sorry dude, I just couldn't resist! I love how Aeslin just read from her notes, just like all those lecturers who used to put me to sleep. ;-)


(GM Damo) | Map | Tactical

"Oh, my dear, would that we had you on our last journey!" the captain cheers up significantly when Sumaru begins talking, "I'm sure we wouldn't have been attacked anywhere near so much if you were helping us find our way. Given how well your people know the Shackles, I'll be very glad to have you along both to the Eye and through it.

"Yeah, those animals weren't exactly what they seemed," Captain Barbarosa smiles almost apologetically, "A combination of some spells that Marcus found* and we could turn dead things from around Avistan into things we'd heard about coming from the Isle and from books Marcus read on the Time Before History. I tried to tell him he had the sabertooth's teeth all wrong, but he got very excited.

"In fact, the only animal actually from the Isle of Dread was the 'Sword-Beak'. Marcus found an official classification for the beast, and we believe its proper name to be a 'phororhacos', but the natives called it 'sword-beak'. The latter sells more tickets. The one we picked up from the Isle was a juvenile - its mother died when it tried to kill us - and needed to be made magically bigger** in order to match up to our true expectations. Oh, the noble who was attacked was actually an actor who got paid exceptionally well for the risks he took. He's fine, by the way and the bird is fully healed and now sedated. I plan on taking it back with us to return it to its natural home.

And you are all hired. Avenging my death so recklessly, I just have to have every last one of you on board! I simply wish to be sure of your suitability for certain roles that I need filled. I trust that meets with your approval, Miss... erm, you did not give me a name. What shall I call you?"

* Spellcraft DC 17:
A combination of Sculpt corpse for the transformation and gentle repose to stop the bodies from rotting would do the trick.

* Spellcraft DC 20:
Obviously animal growth would have been used to achieve this.

"Now, Mister Grimalkin, great points about the sword," says Barbarosa, "I didn't pick up on the apes at all, or even the purpose of the gourd. Some of the natives explained it to us. The ape-folk are actually called the Phanaton to use their word for them. Apparently they are quite a bit smaller than they appear in this picture. We copied it down from a remarkable wall they located their village beneath. More on that later... but yes, apes collecting wine. Oh, and I had a weaponsmith put the design on a sword when we arrived back here so that I could show it at the exhibit. I asked for bone, but he must have gotten confused because he made only the hilt from bone. 'Good help' and all that, eh? Lucky we won't have that problem with you. Well done indeed!

"Speaking of... Marcus, you bumbling boob, are we clear yet or not?"

"Piss off!"

"I'm sure we're clear."


Dwarf God of Pastry Magicks 4 | HP: 39/39 | AC: 17 (12 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 17 | F: +8, R: +3, W: +7; (+4 spells/SLAs) (+2 poisons) | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +3 | Speed 20ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: 1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions: None.

"So wait, everything was fake?" Elon whispers to Barley, puzzled. "Is the job fake? I don't understand."

At the prompting for an introduction, the dwarf steps forward and speaks up. "I am Elon Steelkeg. I, uhh, like to travel and the note said something about a naturalist. I'm about as natural as they come. Same with Barley, he's pretty natural too."

This suffices as an introduction for Elon as he doesn't quite know what to do or say to a group like this.

Following everyone else's lead, Elon meanders over to the bookcase and holds up a stone tablet and pretends to look at it, not sure what he should be looking for. In actuality, he's just trying to covertly watch everyone else and imitate what they are doing.

"Yes, the stonework of the period with the people and the places seems to be of great interest." he mumbles aloud trying to sound smart.


Steelkeg Yak 4 | HP: 22/22 | AC: 17 (11 Tch, 16 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 17 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +1 | Init: +1 | Perc: +0 | Speed 40ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: One day... | Active conditions: None.

"Mooo..." comes muffled from the corner as Barley finds an old blanket to chew on.


Female N Human (Kellish) Archeologist 4 | HP: 25/25 (9/9 temp) | AC: 16 (12 tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +2, CMD: 14 | F: +2, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +0, SM: +0 | Speed 30ft | Spells: Possibly || Active conditions: Mage Armor, False Life, Comp Languages

Aeslin stands there, beaming, as she receives her "grade" from Captain Barbarosa. Then, when he asks what it all has to do with the exhibition, she sputters, "Well... um... well, the Eye of Abendego was created about the same time as Aroden's disappearance. No one knows for sure which one was first... or whether the Worldwound happened first. All that is truly known is that prophesy started to fail at the same time both the storm and the portal opened up.

"Perhaps you were able to pierce the storm because it is true that Aroden once more walks Golarion." She looks around at the room... trying to grasp anything of value. She walks over the previously mentioned column. "This column, if real, looks to come from the days of Starfall. Um... if that it true, that its true age is that long ago, perhaps where we are going will hold Azlanti artifacts from that era."


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15
Isle of Dread wrote:
"Quite right, my dear, quite right," enthuses Krinst when Aeslin finishes.

Great. She gives us all that but not her own name...

Aeslin wrote:
"Hired? For what? We were just here to see the museum, weren't we, Sebastian?"

Sebastian. That's the name of the thing in her purse. But her name? Maybe I'll have to give her one.


Female CN Human Guide 3 | HP: 17/25| AC: 19 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +4, CMD: 18 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +8(+10 An), SM: +7(+9 An) | Speed 20ft | Breath: 5/5, Catastrophe: 0/1 | Spells: 2/2| Active conditions: Catastrophe (+1 AC)

Spellcraft 1: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Spellcraft 2: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

"I'm sorry, Captain. My name is Sumaru. Sumaru Iyakale." The guide considers the rest of his words carefully, then adds. "I support returning the phororhacos to its home. I will do what I can to aid in that task."


Female N Human (Kellish) Archeologist 4 | HP: 25/25 (9/9 temp) | AC: 16 (12 tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +2, CMD: 14 | F: +2, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +0, SM: +0 | Speed 30ft | Spells: Possibly || Active conditions: Mage Armor, False Life, Comp Languages

"Sebastian, did we not introduce ourselves? I am very embarrassed, you bad stoat! Ahem. I am Aeslin, and thi little fellow," she says, pulling a weasel out of her handbag, " is Sebastian. He has been my friend for a long, long time, and he teaches me about nearly everything. You wouldn't know from looking at him how smart and wise and wonderful he is, now would you?

"Sebastian tells me that we are to hire on with you for a fantastic adventure, and that all of my years of learning," (she looks to be about 21), "will come in handy! I just know this is why Dady sent me to study at the Arcanamirium... Not as that nasty servant Kaleesh said... to get that damned spoiled b+%*@ out of his hair!

"well, I never!"


"SQUEEK!"


Female N Human (Kellish) Archeologist 4 | HP: 25/25 (9/9 temp) | AC: 16 (12 tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +2, CMD: 14 | F: +2, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +0, SM: +0 | Speed 30ft | Spells: Possibly || Active conditions: Mage Armor, False Life, Comp Languages

"Oh, I am truly sorry. Was I rambling on a bit there? Oh, thats right, there are books over there, excuse me."

Without a concern about her outburst, she immediately buried herself into the first book she sees on the stack... Merrily humming away.


Male CG Human Bodyguard 4 | HP: 10 [49 rage]/41; DR 2/-| AC: 19 [rage]; 21 (13 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 21, Att +9 [+11] (2d6+7 [+9, PA, witch hunter]) | F: +6, R: +4, W: +4 [+6 rage/+9 superstition] | Init: +4 | Per: +8, SM: +1 | Speed 30ft | Active conditions: None.

Ciaran knocks back his rum and crosses his arms.

"So the animals were manufactured. The exhibits were shams. Your 'murder' was a test. Your attackers were illusions. Is anything about this job anything but a sham? Why should we place any trust in you at all?"


(GM Damo) | Map | Tactical

"Not all the exhibits were shams," Barbarosa informs Ciarán, "Much of the bone weaponry was quite real. One particular spear made it on board still embedded in the back of my first mate. As for why you should work for me, there are many reasons. If it is treasure you want, though, perhaps 'the Grim' would like to step aside and open that chest he's using as a seat."

When the chest is opened, everyone gets a good view at an enormous pile of golden items within. Most are mundane and poorly crafted: bowels, goblets and the like. Almost none of them have gemstones within and all are quite plain. Gratum can tell that the gold is very much real and must have been mined at this level of purity for it to have been moulded in such a fashion.

"The natives were using gold the way we use iron or ceramics," the captain shakes his head at the absurdity of such a thing, "We brought little to trade, but they happily gave us all this in exchange for a few steel weapons. They have gold to spare. But that is only if all you are interested in is coin. There are mysteries on that island that we didn't even scratch the surface of. I hope that answers your earlier questions, too, Gratum. The real items are mostly new, and the island was indeed populated."

Barbarosa pours himself another rum, but sips at it this time.

"I think I'd best start from the beginning, though," the captain resumes his position next to Lord Krinst, who is smiling and nodding along with all of this, "But first, Marcus, is that halfling still just standing there?"

"Yep, just staring at the door!"

"Well, shove him inside and mend that door!"

"On it!"

"Now, where were we?" Barbarosa muses, "Ah yes, the beginning. First, though, any further questions about what we've discussed so far? Don't want to get ahead of myself...."

I'm going to start 'backstory' time now. There's a bit to get through, so I'll be pausing at logical intervals to allow you to ask questions. If this gets tiresome, let me know and I'll blurt it all out and have us move on.


Male NG Human Lorekeeper 4 | HP: 30/30 | AC: 13 (13 Tch, 10 Fl) | CMB: 0, CMD: 13 | F: +3, R: +5, W: +3 | Init: +9 | Perc: -2, SM: -2 | Speed 30ft | Hero: 3/3, Shift (10'): 8/8 | Extend: 2/3, Pearl: 2/2 | Active conditions: mage armor-8hrs

Oh there is enough there to pay Mistress Lanvi back 10 times! Yes, This is the place I must be. And did he just say...

"What exactly do you mean by mysteries on that island? Could an island cut off by a never-ending storm hold arcane lore and magical things that we have not yet discovered? It... seems preposterous, to be honest." Gado stands up and folds his arms across his chest, bringing one hand up to rest his chin on, elbow tucked neatly inside his other arm, suddenly lost in thought.

"An island so cut off should be devoid of magics, one would think. No collective knowledge to share and facilitate its growth and discovery. But if there is magic there, if there are things yet to be discovered, then that would mean that...." Gado freezes for a moment, stunned by his far-fetched logic....

"Does the arcane manifest itself? Would Nethys use such a place like a self-contained petri dish, just to see what direction it would go, in its own bubble?" Gado's original question is completely lost now as his mind swirls with possibilities.

And what happens when magic from the outside enters that bubble?


Dwarf God of Pastry Magicks 4 | HP: 39/39 | AC: 17 (12 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 17 | F: +8, R: +3, W: +7; (+4 spells/SLAs) (+2 poisons) | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +3 | Speed 20ft | Hero: 3/3 | Spells: 1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions: None.

"You hear that Barley?" Elon asks as he jabs his elbow into the flank of the yak. "The beginning!"

The man quickly rummages in the yak's backpack for a snack and comes out with a waterskin and a bag of sweet potato crisps.

Crunch! Crunch!

He mindlessly bites down into the first crisp before taking a few gulps from the waterskin as he situates himself on the floor next to the yak.

Elon looks expectantly at Captain Barbarosa. "Go on..."

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!~

"That's some pretty gold, ye got there!" Elon comments to his new boss, but it's apparent that the dwarf doesn't seem to care for gold as much as the others might.


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15

Bazsil looks to the halfling and to Ciaran to see if either of them wish to make themselves known.

Quiet and sulky. I like it.


(GM Damo) | Main Map | Big Map | Tactical | The Audacious | Loot

"Excellent questions, there, Mister Folklo," notes Lord Krinst, taking over from Captain Barbarosa momentarily, "You have a very inquisitive mind, and that will put you in good stead for this mission. Best to let Barbarosa tell his tale in order to address your particular queries, though. I will say that I like your petri dish idea. It may explain some things, but that would perhaps be ascribing too much reason to this savage land.

"In any case, perhaps a little about me first," Pelius Krinst pops his monocle back in his waistcoat pocket and leans forwards over a map of Golarion, "I am quite interested in - nay infatuated with - all manner of historical points regarding Golarion, especially its society and history. My family moved here from Absalom - together with Marcus's actually - and my great grandfather was a cleric of Aroden before the Silence. He maintained his faith until his death, and his son, my grandfather, still worshipped Aroden despite never receiving anything in response. My father was more practical, but imparted upon me the knowledge and teachings of the First Azlanti. It fed within me a great curiosity for the mysteries of Golarion and its past.

"And so it was in searching for such things that I encountered Captain Rory Barbarosa, a man as obsessed with exploration as I was with finding lost antiquities. I have been lucky to be living here in Magnimar, where so much history is very close by, but I have no stomach for travel. My family is rich, and Barbarosa needed financing, and so a partnership of kinds was born. I won't bore you with the many fruitful - and fruitless - expeditions Rory has gone on for me, nor the many things we have uncovered. Suffice it to say that ours is a relationship of mutual benefit.

"Some years ago now, I a came upon an account of gnome who had traveled from Garund to the Worldwound only to die at the hands of some demon. I acquired his journal for some nominal price and inside he talked of escaping an island after having spent some hundred years trapped there. He was transported to the island from a bizarre Thassilonian ruin, and he suspects it was some malfunctioning gate that did it. He left the island on a ship of his own devising, one that could bear to be submerged for extended periods of time and whose rigging could be pulled down at a moment's notice... all by a single sailor. Quite ingenious was this gnome.

"If his account is to be believed, he sailed out from the island, and mists swirled all around him. Then a great wall of water loomed before him - as it had done when he'd set out earlier on a raft, only to retreat - then, he sailed straight into that wall of water. At some point during the jostling he hit his head and either lost consciousness or his short term memory. The last thing he remembers is sailing away from the Eye of Abendego on the remnants of his amazing craft to be picked up by a trading ship sailing for the Shackles."

Lord Krinst pauses a moment, and polishes his monocle. Placing the lens back over his eye, he leans back and continues, "That was over a decade ago. Captain Barbarosa, Marcus and I have dedicated almost all of that time finding similar accounts of a strange island. The ones that matter most say the natives of the island refer to that island as the Isle of Dread, a place long thought to be nothing more than a legend, an old wives' tale. The gnome's journal was the most recent document by almost a century, and the only first hand account we could find. Armed with that knowledge, and the gnome's description of his own craft, we built the Audacious and set off for the Eye itself."

That'll do for now - it mostly replaces what should have been last night's post. Phew. Please roleplay any reactions you have and I'll get back to the telling if this tale when I find some more time.


Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15

Baz shoots a hungry look at Gado.

Some sort of pie? Or cobbler?

Bazsil thinks about asking what peach tree dishes have to do with the Isle, but realizes that it's not important right now. He wants to hear more about the gnome, the Isle, and what the mission might entail.

Grand Lodge

The Ambassador (Male NG Halfling Bard 3) | HP: 21/21 | AC: 18 (13 Tch, 16 Fl) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +4, R: +7, W: +7 (+4 vs. bardic performance, language-dependent, and sonic, +2 vs. fear) | Init: +8 | Perc: +9,SM: +1 | Speed 20ft | Bardic Performance: 12/12 | Spells: clw, grease, hideous laughter (DC 15), sleep (DC 15) | Active conditions:

The halfling lingering just outside of the doorway feels the course hands of Marcus grasp and easily push him inside the room with the others. For a moment, as the attention is dumped onto him, the halfling looks to the floor in embarrassment trying in vain to keep from blushing. Once inside, he attempts to reform his courage and stand semi-tall (as halflings are not lanky on the best of days), as if to press the subject that he deserves to be there. A moment later he is taking a few casual steps steps, sliding his feet inch by inch, until Wrigley is hidden securely behind the flank of a yak. It seemed odd to the halfling that he, himself, felt more out of place than the sight of Barley, the yak.

It was true he felt more comfortable out of the spotlight, intermingling and hidden amidst the back of the crowd rather than at the forefront, but the intriguing story was overcoming his want to remain unobserved and forcing him to speak up. "Does this wall of water still stand between us this Isle of Dread? Or was it a freak storm that befell the poor gnome?" Wrigley's disembodied voice calls from behind Barley, his head at just the right height to project his words and make it sound as though they were coming straight out of the yak's rump. "If so, I hope your Audacious can submerge as you have described this gnome's vessel to."

I must remember to buy something to help me not drown... if I am allowed to join in this quest.


(GM Damo) | Map | Tactical

"Good to finally hear from you, master halfling," notes Captain Barbarosa, "But I still don't even know your name. Perhaps you could bring us up to speed on who you are and what skills you bring to the table? Also, to the stout man over there, Pelius has informed me of who you are, but it would be great if you could enlighten those you will be traveling with."

The captain waits while the final two introductions are made.

@Wrigley and @Ciarán: Please do just post your intros as a retrospective post of whatever you would have said and done after this. I'll move it on now, though and just assume you complied.

"Lovely!" the captain claps his hands together, "Now that we are all properly introduced, let us continue with the story. Where was our Lord Krinst up to, ah, yes... the building of the Audacious! To answer your question, Wrigley, it could - and indeed can - submerge itself! I will show all of you the ship once the repairs and enhancements are finished, but let us just say that describing it as unusual is a severe understatement. Shipwrights generally pride themselves on using mundane methods, not magic, to build their vessels. Well, I left my pride behind at the age of forty one when I had occasion to shît blood in public. Garundi gut melter virus. For most, it meant death in mere days. Magic helped me then, and it helps me now. Pride be damned. We couldn't spend a century building our ship as the lost gnome did, so we used magic, ingenuity and all kinds of experiments to get us a ship that would do the job in just a few years."

Barbarosa notices his glass is once more dry and rectifies the situation, "We knew that the mission could very well be a one-way affair and that even Desna would predict that it was going to end in death. With that in mind, Marcus helped me procure the services of a very learned wizard who, at incredible cost, made a clone of me. This was to allow me to come back from the dead should I die while my body was well beyond the reach of those who would care enough to resurrect me. By the way, it is that very clone that allowed us to perform the 'trick' you saw at the Hall of Wonders. I really did die - no-one told me what an entirely horrifying experience that would be - and it cost a fortune to pull it off. I hope that helps you to realize that we did not take what we did there lightly. Don't worry, I'll explain the 'why' of our deception at this story's conclusion.

"Now, not every sailor can afford such services, and so those who did agree to sail with us to into the Eye of Abendego itself were paid very well, and were more than a little crazed. The only other man on the journey able to afford such a precaution was our first mate, Jakob. That spear we talked about? Killed him in the end. Poison as well as the injury itself. I'm not sure why, but while his soul did indeed travel to his cloned body, his mind was irreparably damaged. He is now stark, raving mad and resides at the Saintly Haven of Respite, a sanitarium not to far to the north of Magnimar."

Barbarosa downs his glass in one gulp at the memory of what happened to his first mate.

His pause allows time for some discussion, should you wish to add or ask anything at this point.

Grand Lodge

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The Ambassador (Male NG Halfling Bard 3) | HP: 21/21 | AC: 18 (13 Tch, 16 Fl) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +4, R: +7, W: +7 (+4 vs. bardic performance, language-dependent, and sonic, +2 vs. fear) | Init: +8 | Perc: +9,SM: +1 | Speed 20ft | Bardic Performance: 12/12 | Spells: clw, grease, hideous laughter (DC 15), sleep (DC 15) | Active conditions:

Wrigley's intro to the captain...

"I apologize Master Barbarosa," trumpets Wrigley's voice seemingly from the yak's hindquarters, all in all, an obscene ventriloquist's act. From his hidden location behind Barley, the halfling sidles slightly into view of the Captain. "My name is Wrigley Mackay."

The halfling smiles and cranes forward in an awkward, unnatural bow, clearly not used to introducing himself. "I've come to you in search of glory and riches, to be blunt. I'm looking to make my fortune and find a little adventure a long the way." His words are oddly cheerful for how the air of awkwardness that seems to cling to him.

"Solongasit'snottoodangerous..." he finish the last bit under his breath, the words spoken so rapidly they blur together unrecognizably, sounding almost as if the halfling had sneezed a sentence.

"I come here from the Shackles, by way of the River Kingdoms. Not that it's a great, or even interesting story. My family moved to Port Peril when I was very young, and eventually settled in Slipcove some years later. Everyone always thinks it would be an exciting life, full of danger and daring, but for me it was very commonplace. My parents did well for themselves, and so I was largely left unscathed by work or duty."

"For the past several years I have worked, not by any means because I had to, but because I was trying to hone my craft, at restaurants playing classical, moody pieces for their patrons during the evening meals. Perhaps you've heard of one of my signature pieces, Failing Sun on the Halfling Coast? No? No matter, that's neither here, nor there."

"The point being that I've lived a boring and predictable life. That is, until I fell in love with the most beautiful woman you can imagine," his eyes are practically alight as he mentions this and it is invariably clear Wrigley is forming an image of the woman in his mind. "The problem..." he pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat. "is that she seems interested in a certain type of... umm... halfling... And a type that doesn't closely resemble myself..."

"A refined, cultured gentleman such as myself has a hard time competing with the sheer manliness of certain, unrefined brawling types.... pirates mostly..." he pauses to look at the others gathered around him. "Not that any of you are uncultured..." his words seem to focus on Ciarán and the Grim.

"So it falls that my love doesn't even know who I am, and so I set out to make my fortune and a name for myself along the way. And one day I'll return to Slipcove and finally tell her how I feel, once I've proven to myself that I am good enough for her."

The halfling seems completely unaware the insanity of his statement, that he has travelled halfway around the world to prove his love for a woman that perhaps doesn't even know he exists, but there seems to be a quality about Wrigley that suggests he might not even care if this fact was told directly to his face.

"So, my good Sir," Wrigley bows again. "I hope you would be willing to let me join this epic adventure of yours. I think I could be a grand asset to you and yours, so long as it's a bit behind the others and out of direct danger." he laughs at his own words.

"The only issue I see is that I don't actually know how to swim...


Male CG Human Bodyguard 4 | HP: 10 [49 rage]/41; DR 2/-| AC: 19 [rage]; 21 (13 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 21, Att +9 [+11] (2d6+7 [+9, PA, witch hunter]) | F: +6, R: +4, W: +4 [+6 rage/+9 superstition] | Init: +4 | Per: +8, SM: +1 | Speed 30ft | Active conditions: None.

Ciaran waves a hand dismissively.

"My name is Ciaran. I am a kindergarten teacher and connoisseur of both late dynasty Osirian poetry and fine chocolate. Now get on with it."


Female N Human (Kellish) Archeologist 4 | HP: 25/25 (9/9 temp) | AC: 16 (12 tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +2, CMD: 14 | F: +2, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +0, SM: +0 | Speed 30ft | Spells: Possibly || Active conditions: Mage Armor, False Life, Comp Languages

"Oh, wonderful tale, Master Wrigley. I hope that I get the chance to hear your masterpiece soon. I haven't heard much Kellid, or halfling, song... I do hope it isn't a dirge; I have heard that they are quite common in the north!

"oh, yes., and Sebastian says that swimming is quite easy. Not a skill taught too often in the desert, so I so hope I get the chance to learn.

"What, Sebastian? You could learn us some magic that would help? Now that would be outright amazing!"

Watching the weasel, you can almost see it rolling his eyes at his companion, giving the idea that he really is the wiser of the two, and possibly the one truly in charge.

if given the chance to do some shopping, Aeslin will want to pick up a couple of scrolls, I think. Sebastian is going to get some magic tea!


(GM Damo) | Map | Tactical

"Thank you, Wrigley, for that... detailed... peek behind the curtain and into your own life," Barbarosa says, amused, "You certainly have the way with words. I think the natives and whoever else we encounter will warm up quite well to you. Welcome aboard. And Ciarán, I never would have suspected you had such a cutting wit. I guess we're hiring for your muscles and not your brain. A pity, I imagine the latter would be much cheaper..." the captain gives the group's bodyguard a playful wink and refills his glass.

"So, with about the worst crew of my life, in the most expensive ship I've ever sailed, we set off on what was likely to be the last journey we ever made. I won't go on about the details of our journey from Varisia to Garund, for while it was not uneventful, it was unimportant. We resupplied out of Azir and then sailed directly for the Eye." At this point, the captain puts his still half-full glass of rum down upon the desk and stares at everyone in the room in turn.

"Nothing could have prepared us for the fury of that storm. The Audacious was thrown around like a cork floating down rapids. Were the ship not in the mode where it was fully enclosed, we would surely have all perished from being thrown overboard. As it was, the magically hardened wood almost split apart as the storm raged. After what seemed an eternity of being thrown about like rag dolls, we had the sensation of constantly turning in the same direction... we were being sucked down into the maelstrom at the center of the Eye of Abendego. I swear, one of our crew died from fright when he saw that out of a porthole - though my first mate says it was from injuries sustained when we were tossed about.

"The sea opened up beneath us. The salty spray became a mist, and we plummeted right into it. The impact with the water below killed two more of my men and we must have sunk close to the bottom of the ocean before our downward motion ceased. When the Audacious floated back up to the surface, all we could see was mists and a wall of sea roiling behind us. We sailed for the mists."

Barbarosa takes another slug and sits himself down upon the desk, "We sailed for days. We could have been sailing in circles for all we knew, our compasses didn't work the entire time we were inside the Eye. Eventually, though, land came into view in the distance and I knew we'd found the island the gnome had talked about in his journal: the Isle of Dread."

More tomorrow. As ever, questions are most welcome. I'm thinking probably two more of this type of post before we resume proper roleplaying activities. Oh, and there will be so much opportunity for shopping once this encounter is done.


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Half Elf Horn Dude 15 AC 25/23/17 / HP150 / F +14 R +10 W +11 / Init. +10/ Perc. +20 Sense Motive +27/Diplo +27 Nature+17 Local+14 Arcana13/Geog12/Dung+12/Planes15/Religion15
Ciarán Cú Mhór-ríoghain wrote:
"My name is Ciaran. I am a kindergarten teacher and connoisseur of both late dynasty Osirian poetry and fine chocolate. Now get on with it."

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25 Know (Local) - Osirian Poetry

Bazsil attents at Ciaran's words, his head cocking with interest.

"Osirian poetry? You too? I happen to be a fan as well. Are you more taken with the Troubatoran or Sandstinian chant, Ciaran? Or perhaps the Chain Verse? I, myself," Bazsil inquires haughtily, "am taken with the ballade and Hutain. Might I dazzle you with a work of Baudelaire?"

Bazsil stands and flicks back his dark oiled curls so that they do no get in his face as he recites the Albatross.

"Often, to amuse themselves, the crew of the ship
Would fell an albatross, the largest of sea birds,
Indolent companions of their trip
As they slide across the deep sea's bitters.

Scarcely had they dropped to the plank
Than these blue kings, maladroit and ashamed
Let their great white wings sink
Like an oar dragging under the water's plane.

The winged visitor, so awkward and weak!
So recently beautiful, now comic and ugly!
One sailor grinds a pipe into his beak,
Another, limping, mimics the infirm bird that once could fly.

The poet is like the prince of the clouds
Who haunts the storm and laughs at lightning.
He's exiled to the ground and its hooting crowds;
His giant wings prevent him from walking."

Bazsil smugs at Ciaran for a verse of his own.


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Male CG Human Bodyguard 4 | HP: 10 [49 rage]/41; DR 2/-| AC: 19 [rage]; 21 (13 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 21, Att +9 [+11] (2d6+7 [+9, PA, witch hunter]) | F: +6, R: +4, W: +4 [+6 rage/+9 superstition] | Init: +4 | Per: +8, SM: +1 | Speed 30ft | Active conditions: None.

Although he knows very little poetry, Ciaran knows enough to know when he is being made fun of. And enough to recognise that Baudelaire doesn't sound like an Osirian name.

"I would hardly call Baudelaire a late dynasty poet."

Pompous ass, trying to make a fool out of me...

Ciaran clears his throat awkwardly.

"She looks like the rising morning star
At the start of a happy year.
Shining bright, fair of skin,
Lovely the look of her eyes,
Sweet the speech of her lips,
She has not a word too much.
She causes all men's necks
To turn about to see her;
Joy has he whom she embraces,
He is like the first of men!
When she steps outside she seems
Like that the Sun!"

Ciaran allows himself an inner smile at the thought of the Osirian girl who had taught him the poem while he had been guarding her family's caravans.

Captain Rory Barbarosa wrote:
"And Ciarán, I never would have suspected you had such a cutting wit. I guess we're hiring for your muscles and not your brain. A pity, I imagine the latter would be much cheaper..." the captain gives the group's bodyguard a playful wink and refills his glass.

Ciaran gives Barbarosa a bland smile.

What kind of idiot insults the man he's hiring to protect him?

He looks at Marcus, who has clearly suffered the captain's rapier witted "humour"for some time.

Clearly a long-standing pattern of behaviour here. Poor leader. Not nearly as charming or clever as he thinks. Mutiny risk. Takes unnecessary risks too. Poor investment without substantial returns.


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Female CN Human Guide 3 | HP: 17/25| AC: 19 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +4, CMD: 18 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +3 | Perc: +8(+10 An), SM: +7(+9 An) | Speed 20ft | Breath: 5/5, Catastrophe: 0/1 | Spells: 2/2| Active conditions: Catastrophe (+1 AC)

Sumaru listens to all the stories being told in bored fascination. She has not yet sorted the fools from the trustworthy, but she has definite ideas which way the final tally will lie.

She shows a slight smile of amusement at the posturing taking place all around her, then Sumaru says, "Are we sharing poetry then? My father had a poem he told me often:

Delicious dangers
Fill the lands
Like bursting fruit
That stains your hands.

The panther's purr.
The snake's embrace.
Hyena's laughter
In your face.

Sweetest of all
You must beware
Insulting lion
In his lair.

"I can think of more poetry if you like. It is a pleasant game."


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Male NG Human Lorekeeper 4 | HP: 30/30 | AC: 13 (13 Tch, 10 Fl) | CMB: 0, CMD: 13 | F: +3, R: +5, W: +3 | Init: +9 | Perc: -2, SM: -2 | Speed 30ft | Hero: 3/3, Shift (10'): 8/8 | Extend: 2/3, Pearl: 2/2 | Active conditions: mage armor-8hrs

Gado's mind begins to spin at the wordplay, and subtle intellectual jousting behind the words, all while trying to soak in the story of the submersible ship that nearly didn't make it to the isle of dread.

He did just say three people died from being jostled about in the ship as it went through the storm... yes. Better stock up on water breathing spells and a few extra feather fall scrolls. Perhaps levitate... I could just float in the middle of the boat while it spins around me. Maybe one of those ioun stones that keep me from having to eat or drink - wouldn't want to fill my stomach just to empty it on the wild ride.

Gado shudders again involuntarily at the thought.

Trying to get his mind off of his inevitable death, he mulls over thoughts in his head as the two brutes in the room posture for the captain. With a sudden thought and a wry smile, he adds his thoughts to the pissing contest.

"Peacocks strut and flash
Who has the largest feathers
Cowed by the Arcane
"

Gado's smug smile doesn't match Bazsil's however, it seems as though he has had more practice.


(GM Damo) | Map | Tactical

"Wonderful!" declares Captain Barbarosa at the impromptu wordplay, "I can see you'll all be excellent traveling companions. The journey by sea is a long one, and tales, song and poetry are a must have in any sailor's toolkit. Now, what happened next... oh, yes... the cannibals."

Without further explanation, Barbarosa pours himself another rum and takes a slow pull from his glass. It is clear that he knows about the dramatic pause, but is as yet unschooled as to the finer points of its use.

"Yes, that's right, cannibals. As we sailed upon the Isle, we realised that there was a main island and several outlying islands. Eager for land, we landed on the first island. If the natives' sense of direction was to be believed, it was the south easternmost island and principal home to the peaceful Dawa tribe. Unfortunately, they were being raided by headhunters at the time, and several of our number, including Jakob, were killed alongside the villagers before we made it back aboard the Audacious and set off for the mainland.

"We were a little more circumspect this time," the captain strokes his beard in an effort to mimic wiser men, "We journeyed for the main island and found a small peninsula, cut off from the rest of the island by a massive stone wall. There, luckily, we were well received by the natives and welcomed in to their village of Tanaroa. They referred to their small peninsula as 'Home' and the rest of the island as 'the Isle of Dread', but had no concept of the outside world. Their canoes and small sailboats certainly would not have been capable of an extended seaward journey.

"As luck would have it," Barbarosa notes, "They words they used were very similar to Azlanti, but the sentence structure was completely different. It was most akin to certain dialects of Polygot. The fact that I was familiar with both languages meant that I could both understand and speak with the natives, after a fashion. While we were there, the natives spoke to us of an inland city, inhabited by the 'gods'. They refer to their ancestors - and the builders of the wall - as 'gods', so I am assuming it is some other form of civilization that is perhaps older and more technically advanced than the villagers of Tanaroa. The city is rumored to be filled with treasures beyond imagining, including a great 'black pearl of the gods' that also featured in many of their folk legends.

"We traded for what we could - which was much, considering how little we had to trade - but soon realized that we did not have the manpower to mount an expedition north of the great wall. Our crew was light to begin with and they were misfits, not explorers. With half of them dead or wounded, it was not long before we realized that we must depart. While there, we encountered many animals of an older time - dinosaurs such as on might find in the depths of the Mwangi jungles. We captured the 'sword-beak' you see there when its mother raided the village, but the most terrifying of the creatures were reputed to live north of the wall. We were told that it was for that reason that the wall was built by 'the gods'.

"I am sorry to say, that there is little more to tell of the Isle of Dread. Much of what you have heard at the Hall of Wonders is just regurgitated and retold stories that we heard from the natives. Not outright lies, but certainly nothing we saw ourselves. Almost the whole island still requires discovery, but we could not continue. I vowed to return to Magnimar and hire myself a proper crew. After all, it is no longer to be thought of as a suicide mission or a one-way journey. We made it back!"


(GM Damo) | Main Map | Big Map | Tactical | The Audacious | Loot

"Just!" laughs Lord Krinst, taking over and addressing the assembled crew, "Marcus and I had been scrying for the Audacious since it left port at Azir. Once they went through the Eye, we could no longer locate them through any means. Undeterred, we kept trying. Weeks later, there they were in a ruined husk of a ship - and they were floating aimlessly for one of the pirate islands around the Shackles. We quickly had them picked up and towed what was left of the Audacious back here to Magnimar.

"Now, there are many, many people who would love to know exactly how to get to the Island and rape it for its riches. They would want nothing more than to subjugate its native people and to steal all that they can from this magnificent place - this place that seems to be a piece of living, ancient, savage history. We cannot let them do that. I want to know all the lore there is about that place, I want to study artefacts of a lost time... and I want to do it first. Most importantly, though, I don't want the people of that Island to be exploited. They have lived a very sheltered existence for centuries - perhaps longer. We need to tread delicately and treat them with respect."

Krinst eyeballs everyone in the room to see if any object. "To stop this from happening, we staged the exhibit at the Hall of Wonders. We wanted everyone to think that we had taken a good chunk of the treasure - the best of it - back from the island already. We spread tales - true tales - of how hard it was to get there, but none about exactly how to do it. The 'how' was all tied to one man: Captain Rory Barbarosa. These other parties wouldn't have stopped until Rory had spilled his secrets or unwittingly shown them the way back to the island when they followed him out to it. Rory's clone made dealing with that situation relatively easy." Barbarosa snorts at this, clearly not agreeing with the term 'easy'.

"Oh, you know what I mean, old boy," Krinst smiles, "We could kill him and still bury the body. We're planning on an open casket funeral so that all who want to can see that he has not been raised from the dead. Any who try (and we aim to stop them from trying) will be thwarted, but will not know why. It is the perfect way to fake his death - because it wasn't fake at all. He was actually killed, and his remains are there to prove it. The man before us only has the mind and spirit of Captain Rory Barbarosa, but his body was grown from a chunk of the original's flesh some months ago."

Lord Krinst opens his hands and leans back on his chair, "Which leads us to you good folk. We figured this would be the best way to recruit. Send out the notices, the letters - ye gods, even the messages in the bottles (who's idea was that, anyway?) and see who comes along. Those who selflessly rush after Barbarosa's murderer despite no longer having a job to complete, those who would face off against some pretty skilled opponents, those who would see through our illusions and tricks, those were the kind of people we wanted along for the mission.

"So, well done! I imagine you'll have a lot of questions, and we have as much time as we need to answer them. When your'e done, the Captain and I will have a few questions for you... specifically, your recommendations on what to do next!"

Okay, that's a lot to take in. Thank you for reading all and now is the time to ask about anything else that's been bugging you or anything else you want to know. If you don't this is all you get. Also, they're asking for a plan here. Barbarosa may be the captain of a pretty amazing ship, but you folk are the specialists they're hiring. They want you to tell them what you need and how you're collectively going to go about it.

Grand Lodge

The Ambassador (Male NG Halfling Bard 3) | HP: 21/21 | AC: 18 (13 Tch, 16 Fl) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +4, R: +7, W: +7 (+4 vs. bardic performance, language-dependent, and sonic, +2 vs. fear) | Init: +8 | Perc: +9,SM: +1 | Speed 20ft | Bardic Performance: 12/12 | Spells: clw, grease, hideous laughter (DC 15), sleep (DC 15) | Active conditions:

"We had best discern a way to speak and understand both azlanti and polyglot, if we have any hope of communicating with these inhabitants of the village of Tanaroa. That is, assuming they are still there to be found," Wrigley pipes up, surprising even himself. He takes another cautious step out from behind the yak, coming full into view of the captain. "I am intrigued by this city, further inland, the natives spoke about... Inhabited by the gods" his voice is full of wonder and amazement, and it is unclear if this last bit is a question, a declaration, or the halfling simply thinking aloud.

"What is this wall the inhabitants speak of?" Wrigley asks, taking another step closer to Barbarosa. "These gods... these ancestors... built some great and ancient wall... Did you learn any more about it?"

"Was it keep something in?" he thinks for a moment, before finishing his line of questioning. "Or to keep others away from the black pearl of the gods?"


Male CG Human Bodyguard 4 | HP: 10 [49 rage]/41; DR 2/-| AC: 19 [rage]; 21 (13 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 21, Att +9 [+11] (2d6+7 [+9, PA, witch hunter]) | F: +6, R: +4, W: +4 [+6 rage/+9 superstition] | Init: +4 | Per: +8, SM: +1 | Speed 30ft | Active conditions: None.

"It's a wall. It could easily do both. If these 'gods' are on the inside, you'd think it would be to keep people out. What's on the outside that they might be worried about?

"Do you have a map of the charted parts of the island?"

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