[PBP Gameday IV]1-29: Devil We Know, Part 1-Shipyard Rats (Inactive)

Game Master Crashwheeler

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A weathered tengu with some grey feathers in his plumage kicks back in a bar, back to a wall in a corner as he watches the room cautiously, waiting for some form of contact from the Society to tell him where he's going next.

He tries very hard not to think about his last mission...

A large half-orc bearing the crest of Erastil on his armor enters the room, grunting as he looks around, his dark eyes contemplative. He makes his way to a chair, leaning his longsword and longbow against it as he reclines.

"The faster we get this going, the better," he mutters, closing his eyes and muttering a few prayers to himself.

A sickly half-elf with a perpetual grin on his face limps in, his step disjointed and painful to watch. He cocks his head to the side, then to the other, before moving to a corner, his hands gripping tightly the shaft of his vicious looking glaive-guisarme.

A stern half-elf perceives the room for a moment, his eyes hidden behind small round spectacles. He's holding a book on medicine under his arm, and is dressed in a courtier's outfit suggesting some kind of medical profession. He nods to the barman before sitting down next to the half-orc with a cup of tea.

Good day. You must be.. Rathor, correct? I believe I have been assigned your personal physician for your upcoming mission. Tell me... how was your childhood? Did your parents ever beat you?

He gazes at you over his spectacles with friendly yet authorative eyes.

...That was a joke. Let me introduce myself: I am Cedric Salvador Vane, also known as Dr. Nimblefingers. I am the court physician of venture captain Barrenspeak, and am a specialist in mental afflictions. Usually humor gets things going quite easily, but sometimes I go to far, my apologies for that. Has everyone arrived yet?

He sips his tea, his posture like his outfit: immaculately clean and uncreased.

Rathor raises an eyebrow at Dr. Nimblefingers, looking him up and down. "Are you able to travel?"

I do have a strong resentment for travel, but let's not let that get in the way. I am sure that, with our forces combined, we shall survive the dreary days ahead of us with ease.

He smirks.

Yes, I do expect to be using my CLW wand a lot the first few levels. :D

In typical fashion, Nerissys almost falls through the door in her haste to arrive. Her eyes quickly scan the room for a familiar face and rest on the half-orc. Beaming with joy, she rushes over to great him.

"HI RATHOR NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"

Noticing the rest of the people in the room, she adjusts herself and collects her composure...

"Hello everyone, my name is Nerissys Tarmikos and I'm an apprentice healer at the Temple of Nethys in Absalom!"

A little bird pokes his head out from under her hair

"And this is my friend Fable!"

Nodding to Nerissys, Rathor indicates a seat at his table. "Glad to see you again, too, alive and well. Let's hope whatever the lodge has in store for us this time keeps us above ground."

Apprentice... healer. Ugh.

Dr. Nimblefingers gazes at Nerissys from over his spectacles.

Did Barrenspeak send you? Am I to have an apprentice?

Fable bows at his name and addresses the group

"Pleasure to meet you all and see you again Rathor. I am Nerissys' babysitter, bodyguard, voice of reason, and friend. I am sure it will be momentous serving with you all."

FabLe takes a moment to size everyone up and mutters under his breath

"It seems like they are letting anyone be a Pathfinder these days..."

Nerissys joins Rathor at the table, taking a seat in the chair he gestured towards.

"Agreed, the less sewers in my life, the better!"

Turning towards the Doctor:

"I was just told to meet here for my next Pathfinder assignment! I'm more than happy to be your apprentice, I'm sure we could learn a lot from each other!"

The doctor ignores Nerissys, instead turning to Fable:

Momentous... yes... like the moment they let birds run the Society. I for one, am hoping this organisation could be pulled far beyond it's current limits, transcending into something that could span the globe, bringing business opportunities to all those who wish it! What is your ambition, "bird"?

The light reflects in the doctor's eyes, obscuring his eyes.

Rathor grins at Fable and offers a shrill whistle. "Avian creatures are among Erastil's favorites. I expect you'll continue to bring us luck, little friend."

After listening to Nimblefingers chatter away, Rathor frowns. "As they say: Ambition is for beasts that labor to walk on the ground." He looks back at Fable and smiles. "For those that take wing dwell among the clouds and are already accomplished."

Just you wait...

Right. Well, we have a mission at hand, is it not? Where's that venture captain we're supposed to take orders from? I hope it's not Drenge this time again.

Fable happily whistles back to Rathor and smugly ruffles his feathers a little before nestling himself aginst Nerissys neck.

At least SOMEBODY has his head on straight. I don't trust this fellow, not one bit!

"Hmmm yes, where is our captain? It is about time he made his appearance."

Nerissys scowls a little at her companion

"Fable behave! He may be a little gruff, but we still might be able to learn much from him.

Gruff!? Haha! You should meet some of my clients...

Foolish girl. We'll see how she fares.

Anyhow, I'm terribly sorry if I may have seemed rude. I normally work in ...surroundings that are much less pleasant compared to the company we're in right now. I mean, we have a bold priest of erastil in our midst, what could possibly go wrong? I'd rather go talk to that kuthite in the corner over there if I wanted to have some civilized conversation. No, no my friends... The risk of death is always apparant where there is magic involved. Let's not lose our heads and don't worry too much. That's what I always say, the least.

Playing up the 'creepy doctor' factor, please tell me if it's too much!

A rugged Elf sits in a dark corner lazily puffing his pipe, watching the group be for getting up and grabbing his sword and bow "mind if I join your table" Alistair pulls up a chair and sits down "by the way names Alistair nice to meet you all"

After Alistair enters, Venture-Captain Hestia Themis, a small, unassuming woman of Taldan heritage with dark hair and eyes, holding a large sheaf of papers in her small hands, clears her throat. Her booming voice, the antithesis of her stature, fills the main hall of the small Pathfinder Lodge in the Taldan city of Cassomir. “One of our own has been kidnapped. Pathfinder Cestis was taken just days ago from a relics auction in the Imperial Naval Shipyards, and we believe his dissapearance to be related to the six dozen or so kidnappings of the last several months. Now that one of our own is missing, this has become a Society matter—something we’ll get to the bottom of.”
Themis gestures to a teenage boy standing beside her, who nervously regards his surroundings and sweats profusely, his thick brown hair matted and wet against his head. “This is Nefti, the assistant to the biggest thorn in my side in Cassomir—an agent of the Aspis Consortium named Kafar. Kafar is also missing, taken from the same relics auction along with Pathfinder Cestis and a dozen other citizens of Cassomir. Nefti was at the auction, saw where a small group of the kidnapped victims were taken, and his handlers in Cassomir have give us access to him so that he might guide us to our missing Pathfinder. If you happen to find Kafar...” Themis grinds her teeth. “Let him go, per the agreement I’ve just made with his superiors. Your priority is Cestis, and I think Nefti can lead you to him. Any questions?”

The Kuthite shambles towards the table where the other pathfinder agents are assembled, his deranged smile growing only more intense as he finally makes it into the midst of his fellows. A long, awkward moment passes as he takes the time to take in each and everyone there. He then speaks with a loud, raspy voice: "Yes I .. DO HAVE ... a question. How did... the ... BOY... escape, successfully fleeing while his ... MASTER... could not?" His head tilts sideways at a painful angle, looking straight at Nefti with unblinking eyes, as one hand goes to the pendant dangling from his neck, the skull transfixed by chain symbol of his faith. "Well??"

Most interesting...

Eyeing the young man, Rathor huffs. "Do we have any reason to believe this boy's word? After all, as you said, he is the servant of your enemy." Standing up and continuing his questions as he readies his gear, the half-orc levels his stern gaze at Nefti. "I take it we're responsible for his safety on this mission, yes?"

When he's ready to travel again, Rathor crosses his arms and addresses the rest of the group, his armor creaking. "For those who don't yet know me, I am Rathor, faithful of Erastil. Act with bravery and honor and I will keep you alive."

@Nachts: Nefti replies "I was not close enough to Kafar when he was kidnapped, so the kidnappers must not have thought I was worthy to be taken."
@Rathor: Nefti answers "You don't have to worry about me, I can stay out of the way and let you all fight. I am not much of a fighter."

There is a distinct organic clicking sound as the kuthite's head swivels from the boy to the half-orc. "And I am ... NACHTS... formerly of Galt. Devoted servant to ... the... Midnight Lord ... Zon ... KUTHON, Shadows carry his ... will. And I ... BELIEVE... I can honor your ... desires Rathor of ... ERASTIL." His eyes shift a few degrees to rest upon Nerissys's talking bird Fable. "Pretty bird. I knew a pretty bird ... once."

He looks back at the venture captain, and asks: "Do we know ... anything ... about those who took ... Cestis and ... KAFAR? Or the place ... or ... thereabouts ... they took them ... TO?"

Alistair fingers the symbol of a dripping leaf around his neck, looks at Nefti, and whispers a curse around his pipestem " sky father he's but a boy"

Alistair worships Gozreh God of nature and storms also known by the names Ioz'om, the Sky Father;
Hyjarth & Tourithia;
She Who Guides the Wind and the Waves

"Do we have any idea where they've gone or what preparations would be good to make? How do we know we can trust them? I've heard the snakes have been the cause of more than a few Pathfinders meeting an untimely end."

Alistair looks at Rathor " as long as Gozreh`s winds are at my back I will fight to my last"

Nachts cackles, a staccato laugh that seems little more than air pushed through the halfbreed's vocal cords. "A ... BOY yes... Capable of betrayal, ... MURDER ... and a ... THOUSAND ... things that would tear at your ... MORALS. NOT his. The sentient ... KNOW ... no age to inflict pain upon others. Do not let ... YOURSELF ... forget that. A gentle reminder, from a fellow agent to ... another, Alistair of the Wild." he barks in his distorted voice, his demented grin unwavering.

Hestia replies “We only know that the kidnappings started a few months ago. Cassomir has always had some trouble with its citizens going missing, but this was different. Only those associated with the Imperial Naval Shipyards were taken—shipwrights, carpenters, navy guards, and so on. This recent kidnapping, where they took Cestis, was brash and bold. They grabbed more than a dozen people in one attack, neglecting to grab Nefti. Their mistake is our fortune.”
Nefti chimes in "We are going to the docks. There is a place there that I will lead you to."
Hestia adds “Difficult situations sometimes call for difficult choices. The Aspis have the information we need about where to start in this mystery, and if it takes dirtying our hands with them to get Cestis back, I think it’s worth it.”

Rathor nods. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Alistair taps his pipe on his boot heel "what are we waiting for time is of the essence"

sorry I hadn't reloaded the page be for my last post so I didn't see rathor`s post

"your reminder is duly noted, regretfully but noted none the less.

Nachts whips his head back towards the venture captain. "I believe ... we will set ... forth then." He steps back from the table, tightens the wrapped spiked chain around his left forearm and bicep before taking the time to look at the other pathfinders. "Is there ... ANYTHING else ... you would ask of this SERVANT to the midnight LORD, my ... fellow agents? Be honest and BLUNT, ... or forever hold ... the anguish of what was left UNSAID in your hearts."

Zykon will stand up and make ready to leave with no words at first... and then the Kuthite asks for honest and blunt.

"Y'need t' speak like that? Hate t' see you get clipped trying to say all that all the time."

Regardless of the answer he shoulders his bag and prepares to follow Nefti to the indicated location.

"Gibbs." is all he offers when queried about his name.

Holy crow, folks, Go to work and suddenly an encyclopedia. ia, ia, the bullet-spam posting on the forums, ia!

Alistair straps on his sword and shoulders his bow " let's get to it I ....dislike civilized places"
Alistair starts following Nefti

So the bird was part of this all along? This is getting more evocative by the moment...

The doctor takes out his notebook, sniggering at Alistars' remark.

Well, yes, master Nachts, I have a question for you. Put 'bluntly': I heard kuthites use physical discomfort as a way of strengthening the mind.. Could you elaborate? I research mental trauma among pathfinders out of proffesional interest and your... ehm.. condition might provide some clues as how to reverse the process... do you mind?

In the meanwhile, he glances at Nefti, disproval radiating from his face.

"I understand. Let us be on our way then."

Nerissys starts out of the room. Her walk suggests she is somewhat displeased with the idea of working with the Consortium.

This boy better not try anything. I've seen the results of their work on too many Pathfinders at the temple.

"Nachts, before we set off, are there any wounds you would like us to attend to? I'm familiar with the expectations of Zon-Kuthon, but since we might be going into more dangerous areas, I figured I'd ask."

Perched precariously overhanging the dirty harbor water stands the Inn of the Unlucky Sailor. A fresh coat of white paint glistens on half the inn’s outside walls, and most of the windows are boarded up. The roof leans slightly toward the harbor, as if at any moment the entire thing could come off and slide into the ocean. The dock leading up to the inn is made of rotting wood connected to thick, rank-smelling pilings. Several small rowboats are currently tied up along its length.

"Ahhh the sweet smell of the sea. The gentle wind that can turn violent at a moment's notice...." Alistair`s voice trails off as he looks out upon the ocean.

Turning to the boy, Rathor prods him along. "This is the place you saw the hostages taken? I wonder, how is it you managed to track them here but know nothing of the assailants?"

Nefti replies softly "I only followed from a distance. All I could tell were they were wearing cloaks and hoods. I didn't want to spread the rumors that are going around. The rumors are of twisted men from the Darklands who climb up through Cassomir’s Locker, the sewers, catacombs, and older ruins below the city. But they are only rumors."

Zykon notably DOESN'T give the young man any attitude for working with the Consortium, and listens to the guide carefully as the descriptions and guesses are made known.

He gives a bit of a nod in response. Kid's smart. Not spreading the rumor means he keeps a lower profile. Have to keep an eye on him, but maybe we could recruit him for the Edge, even with his leanings.

Leaving the Cassomir Lodge

Nachts looks at the bird-man, that selfsame unnerving grin on his face putting the multiple scars upon his head on display. "Yes ... I must. My voice ... BOX has never ... fully ... healed."

Swiveling his head to the half-elf with the bird, he continues: "The MIDNIGHT Prince embodies pain, both in the ... RECEIVING and dealing of it. I am adept at ... DISPENSING ... my Lord's favor, and my Lord in Darkness would not ... see his worshipers' devotions cut short. You may ... HEAL me ... as you see fit."

He finally wheels upon the Doctor, stopping in his tracks. He shifts his head from one angle to another, giving him a far more thorough once over than before. But before anything else might come to pass, that bark that only vaguely resembles laughter escapes his lips. "Physical PAIN ... is but a beginning. A preamble to the ... MANY ... chapters of a pious Kuthite's book." He shuffles next to Dr Nimblefingers and begins walking in step with him. "We use ... physical pain to ... get ... a small taste of what anguish, ... DESPAIR, ... hopelessness might be like, so that when our journey walks us through the realm of our mind, as caressed by the ... Midnight Lord, ... we emerge anew, having shed our weakness and steeled our senses. Or rather, having a better chance at ... ACHIEVING ... such blessings. Zon- ... KUTHON does not make things easy for those who would serve."

He chuckles and continues. "But I can ... show you some of the ... techniques novices are taught ... later. And I ... INTEND ... on demonstrating some of the ... more ... lethal disciplines to any who oppose us."

Before the Unlucky Sailor

"Rumors... Nothing but the ... nightmares of men given word." states Nachts, idly thumbing the edge of his glaive. "Shall we take a ... LOOK ... around the building's ... exterior? Or shall we just ... walk in?"

"if you want to kick in the door I will cover you with my bow if not than we can sneak around back and see if there's a back door or something"

Interesting.. So he makes use of the adrenaline of pain to fuel his power in battle

The doctor dutifully notes everything down in his notebook.

Say, master Nachts, what would you say are the benefits of mental over physical pain?

"Physical wounds ... DULL and fade. The mind is ... ever fresh and ... ALWAYS ... present. Mental ... PAIN ... makes less of a ... mess, as well. Not to mention ... that it breaks ... less of those ... quaint ... taboos... in many social circles."

He glances at Alistar, nods but turns to look at Rathor. "I would rather ... HE ... make the decision on how to ... proceed; my methods ... are... Different."

Alistair checks to make sure his bow is ready and his sword is loose in its sheath "let's get to it than"

The tengu slowly pulls out a crossbow and drops a bolt into place, arming his weapon as he waits for the party to enter, ready to provide cover fire if it is needed.