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Venture-Captain Drandle Drenge, a stout and hardy Taldan with thin, graying hair and a thick, bushy mustache, unfurls a map on his butcher-block table and places a meaty finger on the parchment.
“The abandoned district of Beldrin’s Bluff was once the gem of Absalom’s Precipice District—now it is but a weathered crag of broken rock at the edge of the roiling sea. When the great quake hit ten years ago, entire blocks of the Bluff sheared from the mainland. Cliffside tearooms and exclusive estates fell into the waves and carried hundreds of nobles to a watery grave. An elite academy, called the Tri-Towers Yard, remained on the mainland, but sank wholesale into the earth. Children unfortunate enough to survive the quake lay pinned under debris as sewer water slowly rose from the ground and drowned them. Nearly every student perished.
Drenge pauses, letting a grim silence permeate the room.
“Today, crumbled stone walls and weed-filled lots sprawl where gentlemen’s clubs once filled with pipe smoke and hobnobbing lords. The Drownyard—er, that’s what the illmannered call the school these days—lies behind a fence of black iron pikes, constructed by the families of the dead to discourage morbid trespassers. “Even respected archaeological groups have been denied official access. Our own Society has itched to explore the site ever since the quake—that is, ever since we discovered that the school fell through the roof of a lost necropolis. Unfortunately, the emotional trauma attached to the school has remained fresh. But finally, after ten years of mourning, the politically-connected families of dead students have sanctioned our delve request.” With a toothy smile and a clap, Drenge says, “I’m pleased to announce that I’ve selected your team for the delve. I want you to find a way into the necropolis, document your findings with professional detail, and recover artifacts of historical significance. The Society is interested in one artifact in particular—a two-finger ring topped with a ruby salamander.”
He stands up and pulls an iron key from his waistcoat.
“I leave you with the key to the Drownyard gate. Remember, the Drownyard is a deeply personal site for many powerful Inner Sea families. You will tread upon the graves of their children. Be sure to give the site the respect it deserves. Any questions?”
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"so we expect undeath? Pharasma has gift me to sense the presence of any undeath or haunt auround me."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"I also happy that we had waited for autorisation. Pharasma hates that we disturb the dead. Who are those familys?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Jobin looks at his black and silver outfit, used by the fights he had against the strange monsters he saw back to his native Ustalav.
perhaps, Jobin thinks, it is time that I change for a more colorful clothes, I have see some of my collegue... No. I will just buy an another.
Before we go to this event, i would like to buy a new outfit.
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When Hyglak stops talking and laughs boisterously, he suddenly finds himself looking at himself.
"I also feel like we've met before," the second Hyglak says to Hyglak. "Maybe it was in the mirror?"
The second Hyglak laughs just as boisterous as Hyglak did a moment ago. His face then shifts to that of Lilia. "I have a talent that lets me mimic the physical features of anyone I've encountered. I can't recall encountering you before we met in this room, but I also sense something familiar about you... Though I can't quite put my finger on it..."
Lilia shrugs. "No matter. Let's just focus on our job."
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Jobin looks shiny in his new outfit, Hyglak and Lilia have a little flirt and the young warpriest that just walked into the room inspects his new team.
Venture captain Dreng quietly observes the young pathfinders before sitting down with a heavy sigh.
Well off you go, you lot. Better make sure you leave a good impression!
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"Ok, If I am going to a party with two pretty ladies." Winking at Lilia and Radayah. "Then I better run a comb thru my hair."
Hyglak is always dressed nice but sometimes lets his hair run wild. He will draw it back to ponytail, take a swig from his flask and straighten his beard. "Now I am ready. Shall we ladies and gentlemen!" giving a slight bow, with a big smile and gesturing to the door with his arm
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"...hum the letter said that we need to go to the dinner before we enter the ruin. She lost a daughter in there and she's a noble. We risk to create an new enemy for the society if we go without her approbation. The ruins will stil be there twomorrow."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Looking to the letter again, jobin says"Oh. It seem it is twomorrow night. Lot of time to explore. Time to wear my old clothes! Shall we go?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Beldrin’s Bluff is a rotting ghost town at the edge of a hungry sea. Throughout the derelict landscape, seagulls perched on splintered timbers reflect your passage in their glassy black eyes. Overhead, dark clouds move ashore with the promise of a storm.
As you move closer...
A fence of black iron pikes surrounds a block-wide yard. Dead tree branches reach out from the fence like the arms of emaciated prisoners desperate to escape. A man is on the inside, cutting the trees down. Some of the dismembered branches remain, stuck in place by knotty elbows swollen around the iron. The man wears a dirty black overcoat and his top-hat looks as if it has been worn for many years. He silently watches you approach from the other side of the fence. His thinning hair is matted and sweaty, barely hiding his wicked stare. Beyond him, partially collapsed buildings and three whitewashed towers lean in a lake-filled yard.
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Jobin turn to the man and says with a big smile. " good day! I am jobin, priest of pharasma, goddess of fate and the circle of life. You are?"
it feel like home.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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feel really like home. So let's act like home.
"We are here to investigate inside the ruin, we have permission of those who lost a relative to search inside. If you here to stop or warning us, tell us why. If you here to help us, say it. If you are for any other reason stand aside. I will consider a silence like the last option and we will pass beside you. "
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"You know Eli, I was wondering. Why the patreon of sheepard would need a fighter or someone in the pathfinder society?
-Posted with Wayfinder
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That guy doesn't talk. It almost if... Maybe.
Take a piece of paper and a pen and write "are you deaf or mute?
-Posted with Wayfinder