[PFS]GM Dennis - The Confirmation (Inactive)

Game Master Dennis Muldoon

In-character gameplay goes here.

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The invitation delivered last night was remarkably simple, especially given the importance of the occasion: “Start where it all began. Meet us at the Pig’s Paunch one hour before dawn.” Now here it is, the Eastern sky beginning to glow as you stand before a run-down building with a faded sign of a large pig standing on its hind legs, arms folded above a corpulent belly. Inside, the air is thick with the scents of human sweat, stale tobacco, and leftover food. In the center of the room, surrounded by inebriates sleeping off their revelries, a familiar elven man stands high upon top of a large round table.

“Welcome! Welcome, my students! Please, have a seat!” With that, Kreighton Shaine, the Pathfinder Society’s Master of Scrolls, nimbly drops down to sit cross-legged on the table before looking about the tavern with a sense of reverent wonder. “Can you believe it? It all started here years ago—well, over four hundred of them at least. Despite what others might tell you about the Wounded Wisp, it was under this very roof the Pathfinder Society was born!”

”But today! Today you will begin your Confirmation! Master Farabellus, Master Zey Westyr, and I all agree you each have shown your worth and dedication to the Society, so there’s no better time to see if you can handle becoming full field operatives. Allow me to introduce you to Janira Gavix,” he says as he motions for an excitable halfling woman to approach. She wears a large backpack and carries all manner of tools, pouches, and scroll cases around her waist. Shaine continues, saying, “Janira here will be going with you on your Confirmation. She was one of my brightest pupils and will no doubt be an invaluable resource on your journey, for she discovered the caves you are about to explore during her own Confirmation.”

Janira speaks up in an enthusiastic and cheerful voice, “Greetings, aspiring Pathfinders! Six months ago, while I was mapping cave entrances in the foothills of the Kortos Mounts, witnessed a lone gillman entering a concealed cave. I thought little of it at the time, but I saw another one enter the cave again a month later as my Confirmation stretched on. A few days later, after I completed my assigned task, I entered the cave system, but was unable to find the gillmen.”

Master Shaine hops to his feet. “Initiates, for your Confirmation, you will travel to these caves to explore and document its many passages. Additionally, and most importantly, you are to learn what the gillmen are up to in there. Oh, and you need to come back alive as well.” With these parting words, the Master of Scrolls jumps off the table and strolls out of the building while humming to himself.

You have a moment to ask Janira questions before she begins briefing you on the specifics of the mission.

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You may know things about the Isle of Kortos and the Kortos Mounts:

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You may have read about the origins of the gillmen in the libraries of the Grand Lodge:

“Beggink for the forgiveness of you…” interjects a broad-shouldered man finishing the final remnants of a sizeable meal that was delivered only moments before. Were his accented speech not a give-away, the fur-lining of his clothing and dog-eared hat-- clearly dressing too warm for the occasion—would almost certainly mark the red-haired, green-eyed man as having originated from far to the north. “But Niocholu is not of the familiar with these, err—gillmen, did you say? Are you thinkink they are threat?”

The large man pauses for a moment to use his teeth to strip away the last few pieces of meat still clinging to the rib bone in his hands.

“And if not these, err—gillmen, right? Niocholu is getting that right, yes?” continues the man, speaking about himself in the third-person, “Then what was it, the then, that did the drawink of you to the place of the caves in the beginnink?”

Luralyn enters the Pig's Paunch whistling a chipper tune, which fades away when he spies Kreighton Shane atop the table, surrounded by an attentive audience.

Well, everyone's said he was an interesting fellow!

He listens politely to the Master of Scrolls and Janira, then bows and steps aside when Shane leaves. He straightens, steps lightly to the table, hops atop the weathered wood, and takes a cross-legged seat in the exact spot the elf just vacated.
His knees stretch a simple robe of white and pale grey linen, little whorls and lines of sky blue embroidered around its hem.

"Janira, is it? A pleasure to meet you! I'm Luralyn Frimbucket." He tucks a blonde forelock behind a gently peaked ear, leans down over the table's edge, and gives the halfling a firm, one-dip handshake. "So, exploration then? Mysterious caves? Barging into others' space?" He grins. "I hear I'd better get used to that."
Knowledge (history): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

Luralyn perks up when Nicholu speaks, excited by the man's accent.
I don't suppose Nicholu's from Irrisen?

Ah ha ha ha. This will be fun. Fareth is from the border of Irrisen and Land of the Linnorm Kings.

A tall woman with a serious expression enters the bar, looking rather out of place. She sweats slightly, clearly accustomed to much colder climates. Her shaggy brown hair is cut short, but slightly unevenly, as though she did it herself. She carries a full backpack and an enormous axe hangs at her side.

Trundling behind her is a young grizzly bear, though something seems slightly off about her snout. It's hard to put your finger on it.

"Drilla! Drilla, those sausages are not for you. Yes, I know they're on the ground. They belong to the man asleep next to them. Come here."

Fareth also has a thick Northern accent.

Luralyn can't contain himself. He rearranges his seat atop the table and turns towards the others, dragging his robe through spilled beer in the process.

"Hello! I don't suppose either of you are from Irrisen?" Now that others are around for comparison, he does seem to have his own faint-but-lingering accent. "I don't meet many who've escaped the Winter Witches!"

"I don't meet many who've escaped the Winter Witches!"

"That is becausink there are so few that do!" cries Niocholu, jumping up to his feet and knocking the few scraps that remain on his plate to the floor. Ignoring the halfling and other patrons, the sizeable man makes his way to the half-elf, a broad smile filling out the pale face under the red, scraggly beard.

Yet, though Niocholu appears, at first, as if he were about to lean in for an embrace, the man quickly catches himself and his expression turns suddenly somewhat dour. The man instead takes a step back to consider the other northerners.

"How does Niocholu not know that one or the bothink of you are spy of witch?" he asks with great suspicion. "You two are not raven... or dolls..." The man seems to slowly consider each possibility within his mind before dismissing those he can. "Hair not white enough for wolves..."

"I'm also utter crap at magic!" Luralyn offers helpfully. "My community used to live in the Hoarwood forest." A shadow passes over his smooth face, and he tugs his beard nervously. "My folks say they stayed ahead of the patrols for years, but eventually... Those who survived went deeper into the forest, and I guess there was some kind of 'gate'?" His easy smile returns. "Long story short, my family ended up in Taldor, and that's where I grew up!"

"So you say." Niocholu snorts, lowering his guard down a bit, but not entirely satisfied with the explanation (playing up traits). "That would go to the explainink of why you talkink so funny."

Niocholu then turns to address Fareth, "And what of you, Lady-Handler-of-Bear? What is the tellink of the story you have for the that to be heard?"

The middle-aged woman’s expression gets sharp and angry at the mention of Irrisen, then softens at the rest of the question. ”Many were not so fortunate.” She touches a chain around her neck that holds two wedding rings.

”I do have magic, but it is not the magic of Witches. It is the magic of the woods. I used to live near the border of Irrisen in the Land of the Linnorm Kings. We had a small village there, me and others like me. I was off on a hunt for a week, and when I returned...” She shudders at the memory. ”I will never forgive the jadwiga. I wandered the woods for a few years on my own, but eventually sought out a community once again. I heard that the Pathfinder Society was a good place for outcasts.”

Niocholu nods solemnly as Fareth recounts her tale. After a few moments, he responds, "Du har en venn for i dag, og dermed har du noe håp for å morgen."

Then, concerned he may have been too presumptuous in assuming that the woman understood skald, he adds in common, "Niocholu is sad for you for the, errr... badness that you have gone through."

He slowly sinks back into his chair. Although his experience in Irrisen gives him a strong sense of what must have happened to the skinwalker's village, he seems frustrated by his apparent inability to effectively communicate brought upon by the welling of empathy within his chest and the limitations on vocabulary and knowledge of the tongue of the Taldanes.

A silver haired, simian humanoid walks slowly into the bar leaning on a quarterstaff for support, and plops himself down upon the floor nearby.

A second monkey, with skin resembling the night sky, floats slowly behind him shedding an aura of light from the constellations that flicker across his form.

Though he remains silent throughout the conversation his eyes, lit with a spark that seems to be starlight but could just be mischief, follow the conversation intently. He absentmindedly peels a banana from a pouch, and alternates between feeding himself and his small floating companion.

Finally, as Niocholu slumps into his chair he interjects in the thick accent of one from Jalmeray, "Pardons, but who are these Witches?"

Finally, as Niocholu slumps into his chair he interjects in the thick accent of one from Jalmeray, "Pardons, but who are these Witches?"

Niocholu spits yet again, as he has done with each mention of "witch" or "jadwiga".

"Be grateful that you do not know, Furry Traveler," responds the northman. "But do your knowink of this: they have power in largeness and do crushink of whole villages with iciness of glacier. Those they have no use for they do killink of. Yet, those they kilt may be the more lucky than those that no be killink'd. For those they are the findink of 'useful'..." The man's words hang in the air for a moment. He stares blankly, seemingly at nothing in particular, as if either lost in a memory or trying desperately to quell the onset of one.

Nicholu takes in a deep breath and then slowly exhales. "For those they the findink of "useful", they do makink to be treated like animal. Made to do evil of their work. And then the more still, is what they have the 'useful' do to others..." At this point, mid-sentence, the large, generally locquacious man falls silent.

Luralyn lifts a drink from in front of a slumbering patron and hands it Niocholu. He considers resting a conciliatory hand on the man's shoulder, but thinks better of it.
"What he means to say is, 'they're really quite awful.'"
The half-elf hops down off the table, his robe dragging a wet swath over the bench, and crosses to the newcomer. "Luralyn Frimbucket! You're here for your Confirmation too, I take it? Don't worry, you haven't missed much aside from a couple ex-patriots expectorating their pasts. If you're in the mood, you can certainly add to the deluge!"

A young woman of obviously Vudrani descent, with a slight but curvy frame and fidgeting with a rather ill-fitting chain shirt over worse-fitting clothes finally pipes up. "Well, I'm always-" She stops a moment and clears her throat. "I'm always happy enough to hike up a mountain or down through a cave, but... you did say gillmen, right? So... fish folk? Are these caves supposed to be flooded, or are am I maybe stereotyping?"

She also makes her way around the room to properly greet the others. "You can all call me Quasar by the way... or Ms. Bhatt. Haven't met a problem yet I haven't had the gifts to handle." She looks for a sufficiently dirty corner at which to wave her fingers at, swirling up a small cloud of dust as a means of showing off a little.

"I am most pleased to meet you all. My name is Reshu." Then, still seated, Reshu bows slightly to the three Northerners. "Perhaps one day Ragdya shall set these "wicked witches" straight. Perhaps you may even serve as his instrument in this. I think it is no accident that three such skilled individuals as yourselves should escape these witches grasp, and then find each other half a world away."

Reshu suddenly springs to his feet.

But we are neglecting Miss Janira! And "Quasar by the way" seems most interested in investigating this fishy business in the caves. Miss Janira, what can you tell us of these fishy folk?"

Untrained Knowledge (geography): 1d20 ⇒ 15 for a max of 10.

"It is good to meet you, Quasar and Reshu. So, Janira, we will be heading into the mountains?"

"Yes indeed, the caves are in the mountains. And no need to worry about the caves being flooded, Quasar, they are quite far from the shore and a good ways above sea level. Gillmen are an amphibious folk, so they can survive in the air, though most do live in the sea. In fact," she says, pausing to think, "the only known permanent surface settlement of the gillmen is in Escadar. Why they’re venturing into the foothills of the Kortos Mounts is a mystery.”

Janira pulls out a large leather-bound journal and opens it on the table. “Before we set out, we should all get to know each other and review our plan. After all, the most important factors that determine whether an expedition will be a success are cooperation and preparation! I’ll go first!

”I grew up with six siblings, in the Eastgate area of Absalom. When I came of age, I knew I wanted to see more of the world, so I joined the Pathfinder Society! That was about four years ago, now, and while I joined up to travel (and try all of the exotic foods I could find), I’ve really grown to love learning and the processes of preserving knowledge. I hope to one day have my work published in the Pathfinder Chronicles!

”Now it’s your turn. Please, tell me a little about yourselves!” This is your chance to do any further in-character introduction you'd like, including introducing your character to Janira. Since most of you have already introduced yourselves, I'll move us on tomorrow, but feel free to add any introducing that you'd like.

Quasar waves back. "Yeah, big family here too. Well, not here here. Back in the Impossible Kingdoms mostly. Lot of homebodies and accountants mostly. I originally came out this way to look into some business interests, and well..." she glances down at herself and tugs on her shirt again, "I didn't quite... budget properly for personal expenses."

"I'm told this sort of work tends to pay out quicker than prospecting, so, hopefully this should cover the difference." She quickly adds, "not that I'm just here for the money! Again, like you said, there's all the exploration and discovery and noble deeds for the public good and all too."

"Um, just me, no siblings or anything. I suppose I came to the Pathfinders because I was tired of living in Taldor. Too hidebound and ostentatious. As opposed to..." Luralyn gestures towards his plain robes. This also draws his attention to the beer-stained hem, which he begins wringing out. "I go back every now and then to see family, but you have to admit, Absalom has plenty to offer! Folks from all over, books, food..." His hands stop twisting; a droplet of beer blips against the dirty floor.

His eyes refocus on Janira. "Right! Speaking of, I need to get some rations and things on the way out of town. I've already got a few odds and end," the clink of glass sounds from a belt pouch when he pats it, "and these!"

He punches the air twice in deliberate, quick, and controlled motions; an incongruous wind seems to tousle his pale blonde hair. "Usually only need them for ignoble deeds—hopefully these gillmen like visitors."

I've got an alchemist's fire and two flasks of acid, on the extremely small chance we run into a swarm in PFS.

"Well, you heard my story already. No family around any more. I take in animals pretty frequently. Believe it or not, Drilla here was a runt and abandoned by her family, so I raised her from a cub. She is still learning though. I would not advise trying to pet her. Drilla, I said, leave those sausages alone!"

"Welcome to you, Dust Shaker!" Niocholu says to Quasar, attempting to make a choice to be happy rather than continue to dwell in a pool of sadness. Yet, the way the man seems to avoid using personal names continues to hint at his painful past.

"It is good for northerners to be among those who know this island more betterer. Although, the Soggy One grew up just next door in the Taldor." The northman continues, betraying his lack of geographic knowledge.

”Now it’s your turn. Please, tell me a little about yourselves!”

"What else is it you are likink to know, Friendly One?" Niocholu asks. "Niochulu is simple man--work with tools--often shovel or pick... sometimes chair. All have time for to learn. Niochulu admit he not known for deep talkink of the history or teachink, but he good at carryink thinks or hittink thinks. That is, when the thinks are in needink to be hit."

"Otherwise, Niochulu enjoy the company, the travel and the tryink of new foods and thinks. Is good to be Pathfinder, yes?" He asks, but does not seem to expect an answer, as he then continues, "But, back to the doink of the task."

The towering man glances downward to look Janira in the eye, and asks, "Are you thinkink that these gillmen are threat?"

Quasar gives the bear a wide birth, pressing herself up against a wall, looking slightly nervous. "Right, supplies... from the sound of it, we're probably going to need a few torches, or sun rods, or... people who just touch the ends of walking sticks and cause them to glow... this is all pretty close by though, right? No need to hop on a ship or anything and sail back across the sea, or ride along with some wagon train for days?"

"Soggy One? Oh!" Luralyn finishes twisting his robe and lets the hem fall around his ankles. "More of a Dampfella, but I'll be fine."

"And if you want to be Thing Carrier, I won't complain!" He lifts a straw-colored eyebrow at Quasar's posture. "I can't imagine we'll have torches so fancy we need a few days' travel, or ones so heavy Niochlu can't carry them."

The balls of his feet bring him closer to Drilla, and he kneels down about two arm-lengths away. He murmurs at the bear in a singsong cadence.

"My people tend to think of families a bit differently. My village is my family so it is quite large indeed!" Reshu lets out a short laugh. "I spent most of my years at home in the Segang tending my peoples shrines, and communing with our people's spirits. It was the spirits that led me to join the Society. They say it was Pathfinders that reunited them with a long lost brother. I have come looking to shepherd three other lost siblings back home."

“You're wise to worry about proper equipment, but I think that's a discussion better saved until you know your mission. Speaking of which, on to the details of the mission at hand,” Janira says with an eager grin. “After reviewing my mission reports personally, Master Shaine believes it is no coincidence that each time they entered the caves it was during a full moon, so it is also no coincidence that you have been called here now, just a day before the moon is full again. We both believe that tomorrow night is our best chance to find out why these caves are important and what exactly the gillmen are doing in there.

“The caves we’ll be travelling to lie under the base of the Kortos Mounts. We’ll need to spend every minute of daylight possible to reach the caves by foot, crossing over the Cairnlands, taking the paths to Diobel, and finally making our way through the wilderness. With any luck we won’t run into any of the local inhabitants. Once in the caves, we’ll need to work together to explore and determine whether any gillman are present or have been recently. Keep an eye out for any other clues that might hint at the caves’ significance, too.”

Quasar nods. "And we're sure these caves aren't flooded? I don't want to end up drowning because it turns out Groetus worshipping weresharks have been waiting for a spring tide to swim up to some otherwise inaccessable chamber or something." She tugs anxiously on the collar of her studded leather armor. Which has always been such, and was never a chain shirt, because I totally didn't forget that even with no other equipment those are a no-go with only 7 str.

Reshu, who is happily chewing another bite of banana, stops and cocks his head to one side in interest. " Hmmm. What "lunacy" are these gillmen getting up to on the full moon?" This produces another short fit of laughter.

"What dangers should we expect to lurk in these caves Miss Janira? What of these local inhabitants you mentioned?"

As Reshu speaks his companion has procured a small piece of sausage from a nearby table, and now hovers near the ceiling above Drilla.

"In the caves? I didn't run into any inhabitants in my brief time in the caves. I'm more concerned with the trip to get there. Centaurs control the lowlands and surrounding wilderness of the Kortos Mounts. The areas farther up the Mounts are controlled by minotaurs, and the icy peaks are home to tribes of harpies. They’re always vying for territory, but with any luck, we should be able to avoid them and reach the caves without conflict.”

“As with any journey, there’s always the chance we may run into bandits along the way, and there are dozens of kinds of predators in that forest. That’s why we should always be as prepared as possible.”

Drilla eyes the sausage and gets ready to jump....

"Drilla, no! Down! Down!"

"R.J. drop that sausage before you become you one!"

R.J. chitters with laughter, crams the sausage in his mouth, and sticks his tongue out at Reshu.

As he begins to chew R.J.'s face scrunches up in disgust, and he spits the sausage out upon the ground. Slowly floating down to perch on Reshu's shoulder he repeatedly wipes his tongue with his hands.

Reshu laughs at R.J as he tries to get the flavor of the sausage out of his mouth.

"In the caves? I didn't run into any inhabitants in my brief time in the caves. I'm more concerned with the trip to get there. Centaurs control the lowlands and surrounding wilderness of the Kortos Mounts. The areas farther up the Mounts are controlled by minotaurs, and the icy peaks are home to tribes of harpies. They’re always vying for territory, but with any luck, we should be able to avoid them and reach the caves without conflict.”

“As with any journey, there’s always the chance we may run into bandits along the way, and there are dozens of kinds of predators in that forest. That’s why we should always be as prepared as possible.”

"Then we should get to the caves fast as we can."

"Indeed, and we're going to need every minute of daylight over the next two days to make it there in time."

“Now, before we head out, if there aren’t any more questions, we should take a moment to go through your gear and make sure nothing important gets left out. Do you have food? Does someone have a way to make fire? How about a light source? Does anyone have a means of magical healing? How about alchemical items? A flask of alchemist’s fire or acid can be a life-saver in some cases.”

None of you are new to Pathfinder, so I don't think I need to check your inventories like the scenario suggests for new players. Let me know if you'd like to buy anything on your way out of town.

Your first day of travel is interesting, if uneventful. Janira points out broken siege towers as you pass through the Cairnlands, explaining what she learned from Master Shaine about the many times Absalom has been unsuccessfully assaulted. You make camp in a pleasant, sheltered hollow in some low hills, taking turn at watch without incident. You have time to prepare new spells, if you would like.

Janira wakes you up early the next morning and you press on towards your destination. As you progress deeper into the forest, the trees towering overhead begin to shield most of what remains of the day’s sun and the vegetation beneath grows denser.

Janira pauses a moment and pulls out an intricate silver compass emblazoned with the Pathfinder Society logo: the Glyph of the Open Road. “I received this wayfinder when I successfully completed my Confirmation. Should we be successful on our journey, you will get your own as well.” She flips open the device and holds it in front of her; the initials J. G. are engraved into the inside of the device’s lid. After studying the compass inside for a moment, she remarks, “We’re on the right path. We need to keep heading northwest past those large rocks up ahead.”

Ahead of you, slightly off your path, a large tree falls. The loud booming noise as it strikes the ground causes animals all around to scatter and run, including a nest of snakes that emerge from a hole in a log in front of you, scrambling in your direction!

The snakes swarm out of the log and towards you, angry and fleeing the sound of the crash. Double move.

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Initiative:

Quasar is more than happy enough to get away from the potentially feuding pets of the others, and pick up all the supplies she can carry. A single torch and a day's worth of trail rations. 7 str is hilarious like that.

Once out o the road, the appearance of a roiling pile of snakes moving in quickly towards them, she snaps out of her usual awkwardness with a smirk, rolling up her outsized sleeves and tossing off a quick "I've got this" as she sweeps her hands upward, followed by a loose pile of rocks and thick clods of solid earth, which coalesce into a hefty mass before her, before she thrusts her arms forward, propelling the bulky missile towards the snakes from 30 feet away.

earth blast: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
blunt damage, full to all swarms: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

Luralyn dashes away from his clustered companions, fishing in his belt pouch.
Just like they said, make sure you—whoa!
His head whips around when the mass of earth rockets towards the snakes. "Ha!" He whoops in surprise at Quasar's display and extracts a vial of pale green fluid from the pouch.

Move action to move, move action to pull out a flask of acid!
Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24

"Snake swarm! I've fought little snakes like these before. Your weapons can still hurt them, but piercing and slashing don't work as well! Acid or alchemist's fire is better. They'll bite you, but don't worry: they're too little to have venom!"

GM's choice for additional information

Fareth shakes her head and a sudden change comes over her. Hair grows thick on her face and arms, and her nose and mouth change form to a bear-like snout with sharp teeth.

Standard action to change shape, gaining a bite attack.

"Drilla, attack! You can bite them!" Fareth struggles a little to get the human words out through a mouth full of sharp bear teeth.

Handle Animal check: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

Drilla, hearing the command she likes the best, lumbers toward the nest of writhing snakes.

"Roooooar!"

Chomp!: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
munch munch munch: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

Drilla chews on a mouthful of tiny snakes.