Our opening act: we have seen the heroes enter the lavish manor of Temel Passad. They have been sat down by servant and have been served the finest Chelish wine and sweetmeats. Our heroes have come on a mission. Before their hurried departure, they have been handed a letter by Venture Captain Ambrus Valsin.
is Amauhak of Reth Bezel, a mystic of the sands dwarves of Osirion
...of course, keeping the presence of myself, Metella and Passad a secret is the wisest course, given what happened to the earlier envoys.
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Garret was savouring the sweetmeats presented by the servant when the human and dwarves enter the room. He is a halfling wearing a travellers outfit in blue and green. You can hear him mumbling "these sweetmeats are very good, I might be tempted to try hand at them myself. Although that probably has to wait until we are back from this assignment."
When Temel and the dwarves enter the room he turns to look at them and says "Well met, my name is Garret Greenbottle. If you would like I can take care of provisions on board, I have some cooking skills from my life before I joined the Society."
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"It is very good, too good for my palette, but I'll endeavour to get used to the finer things! Don't fear we will retrieve your fellows, and put the fear of the gods into these buggers! The use of your vessel is much appreciated Master Passad, my thanks, it is a pleasure to meet such a good friend of The Society. I am Radnor Acton aspiring Knight, glad to meet you to, Amauhak, Metella. I swear I shall not let harm come to you," Radnor says, rising and giving what he imagines is a courtly bow.
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Dorn took a skeptical mouthful of the wine, and promptly spat it into the pot holding one of the room's decorative houseplants. He eats the sweetmeats a handful at a time, with no respect for their fine culinary tradition.
He is a heavily-scarred dwarf dressed in battered leather armor. His hair is very uneven, with bare patches due to some of the scars on his head, and his beard cut short and bristly. It looks as though he's probably had a lot of concussions and head trauma in life.
He gives the human an unimpressed look, continuing to chew (with his mouth open) as the man speaks, but he does sit up a bit straighter at the sight of fellow dwarves. He even picks a bit of meat out of his beard.
"Eh, yeah, what short-stuff said. 'm Dorn of the Gritstones. I can't cook, but I can break things real good!" he says with a broad, slightly-manic grin.
"Here now! Mister Passel-tassel! Don't you have any beer?"
Garret's recollections of Razmiran are only vague, something about a leader being revered as a living god.
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Helping himself to another handful of food, Dorn leans back in his chair. (The wood creaks unhappily beneath his weight.)
"So we're off t'go find some sons of Torag what've gotten captured, eh? What's their names? What do they look like? I might know their families, eh? They might have daughters who'll be grateful to old Dorn, and wish to make a gold-match with me, ha!"
He elbows Radnor jovially in the ribs as he says with, with a lot of overdone winking.
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"They just might, does it matter about who their god is? Aren't we just going to basically beat them up until they give us the dwarves back? I suppose more information cannot hurt, but we've got a boat trip for that, the sooner we set off the sooner we can get them free," Radnor says anxious to be putting his newly improved lance to good use.
The Razmirans serve the living god, and all others religions are forbidden there. Foreign priests are tolerated, but have to watch their steps.
As the stream of lavish food ends, the heroes gather to sail for Razmirian, boarding the Abacus. The journey across lake Encarthan is uneventful, but a slight tension comes over Passad and the dwarves as the boat enters the Glass River, and Razmiri waters.
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Garret has busied himself with helping the ships cook during the trip.
"I completely agree Temel, if a toll is required by the authorities we will pay the toll. Although I do not really like the idea of adding in a gratuity." he shrugs "But if that is customary in Razmiran we will do so. The Society pays it dues, we will take care of the toll. What would you consider a sensible amount to add as a gratuity?"
To Metella "A normal borderguard has no reason to search the boat if we just act normal and pay the gratuity.
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Dorn spits over the side of the boat and into the water of the river, trying to hit small bits of floating debris. He's been practicing his spit-aim.
He shrugs his brawny shoulders at the debate.
"Seems t'me yer better of just passin' yerself off as passengers like us-- if they do search and find stowaways, then we're in it deep-- but do as you will. I'm not givin' a coin to nobody for the privilege of sailing their water. You want to give your money, Dorn won't stop you! --HA! I hit the duck!"
Dorn grins over the boat's edge at the waterfowl who took a spit-lob to the back of the head.
"I say we run it. Hell with their tolls!" he says with his usual slightly-deranged grin. But he doesn't seem to have a strong opinion on it, really, so much as to be shooting his mouth.
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Radnor shrugs, having had his say, and not being overly concerned and begins the ritual to summon his faithful eidolon finally punching thin air that shatters revealing a strange flat portal into a weird coruscating place of vivid colours and out of kilter dimensions for a moment before Nuzzle emerges onto the deck.
The eidolon looks like the offspring of an Old Taldan Sheepdog and a dragon, perhaps a blue dragon for Nuzzle's fur is a rich royal blue. The eidolon sneezes, looks around at his surrounding dubiously and extends his head for Radnor to pet him,
"And this is Nuzzle everyone, Nuzzle this is Dorn Gritstone, Garret, and Tyraneus - fellow Pathfinders. Don't worry folks he's dead friendly, he can talk, he just doesn't much, do you Nuzz?"
The eidolon gives Radnor a measured look, rolls its eyes at him, and then nods to the Pathfinders in turn.
Temel and the dwarves retire to belowdecks as the boat gets near Xer.
The city of Xer occupies the north bank of the Glass River, and its dozens of docks remain busy as ships headed both east and west call at the port. Grubby men and women in bulky jackets patrol the docks, and few smiling faces are be seen.
The boat's captain chooses an isolated berth sheltered on either side by tall warehouse to moor the boat. One of the crewmen tosses a rope to a dockworker, who secures it to a post.
Two Razmiran enforcers approach, holding the taut leash of a half-tamed, slavering wolf. They look serious, and somewhat annoyed. Alright, how many passengers? one of the enforcers asks the closest Adventurer, without bothering to introduce himself.
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Dorn keeps his distance from the conjured creature, nose wrinkling. Too much damned magic for him!
**
At Xer, Dorn leans on the railing, his scarred, sinewy forearms crossed over each other. He offers the wolf a grin that's just as full of teeth as the wolf's is, but says nothing. Dorn's learned the hard way that his fellow Pathfinders don't always appreciate him speakin' up to authority.
The enforcer frowns at Tyraneus
There's ten visible from where I'm standing. Who of these be crewmen, and who be passengers?
The enforcers let's the wolf growl and take a snap at Tyraneus, pulling the leash taut before it can sink it's teeth into the cleric.
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Tyraneus takes a step back from the beast and recomposes himself before speaking again
"Well the passengers would be the halfling over in the corner, his name would be Garrett,the ever-smiling dwarf nearest you would be known as Dorn and Radnor with his Eidolon Nuzzle and I would be Tyraneus which would make 5 passengers. The rest would be crew of course which total in five also".
Well, well. In that case, we shall require a toll of 10 pieces of gold to allow you on your way. the enforcer barks at Tyraneus. The second enforcers frowns, then steps up to the first one and whispers in his ear. If you would just come ashore for a moment, so we can search your ship?
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Dorn nods cheerfully at the enforcer's words, flashing him the same enormous, slightly-unhinged smile he's given everyone so far, and ambles past Tyraneus to get off the ship.
As he passes the priest, he mutters under his breath, "Passel-twit gave us two plat, that's twice what this fella's asking. Give 'em both coins-- I trust a Druman to know the goin' price of a bribe, eh?"
Dorn pops himself onto the dock and sits down cross-legged, flashing his happy smile up at the second enforcer as well, and keeping one hand near his axe's head.
A look of surprised amazement comes over the enforcer. Now, now. Platinum pieces. You must be rich travellers indeed, most just pay their tolls with copper and silver. Let's see what treasures you transport here. Ashore, all of you, while we can search the ship!
The enforcers wave his crossbow threateningly. It looks like these guys wouldn't shun a fight if you failed to comply. Belowdecks is silent, while the boat creaks slightly in the shallow waves of the docking point.
Radnor eyes the situation, while the enforcers wait for the adventurers to descend from the ship. Come on, we haven't got all day.
A single rope is affixed dockside, and could be undone there.
On the ship side, the rope is knotted and coated with dried tar, which prevents any kind of swift untying. Another option would be to hack the rope with a well-aimed slash of a sword.
Other than the two enforcers, the area is empty, and looks to be somewhat remote from the rest of the docks.
The enforcers don't take kindly to this kind of aggression. Despite the lack of surprise, Tyraneus and Nuzzle manage to catch on faster than the enforcers[/b]
Nuzzle
Tyraneus
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Enemies
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Dorn
Garrett
Radnor
[dice=Init, RA] 1d20+1[/dice
[dice=Init, NZ] 1d20+2[/dice
[dice=Init, Ty] 1d20+6[/dice
[dice=Init, Do]1d20+2[/dice
[dice=init, Ga]1d20+6[/dice
