Thanks you guys!
You want to run another evergreen for us? The Confirmation? Master of the Fallen Fortress? Consortium Compact?
I'd gladly run any of the evergreens, except The Confirmation.
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That's fine. I've played MotFF twice recently, and am about to play Consortium Compact with 2-3 characters at once, but haven't done Confirmation or The Wounded Wisp in a few months. But I'm down for anything. Especially if there are some other evergreens out there. I think there are a few scenarios people don't often think of that are technically evergreens, and there are also several modules that are evergreen: the first level of the Emerald Spire, Crypt of the Everflame come to mind, but if we wanted to run something that long I bet I could dig up some others.
If we are to stay in the realm of the evergreens, then The Wounded Wisp would be my first choice. If we go the module way, then I'm quite fond of Murder's Mark, though I have never run it before (and it is also an evergreen).
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Oradin's are so much fun. They don't really come online until level 3 though.
-Posted with Wayfinder
You have been stationed at the Grand Lodge in Absalom, awaiting assignment for a mission of utmost importance. Things finally seemed in motion when Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng sent out a summons for available agents. Specialized in the history of Absalom, Dreng is known for putting off-duty agents to work on sundry tasks when he finds them resting within the city’s limits.
Coming to the meeting place — an odd choice of venue, as it is a street corner far from the Grand Lodge — a lone beggar garbed in baggy robes approaches. The only figure visible in the constant drizzle, the beggar sticks out his hands for currency.
“Have you any coin to spare, fine folk?”
The question hangs in the air for only a scant moment before the figure pulls back his hood to reveal the wizened face of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng. He gives a crooked smile, soaked head to toe from his unprotected time in the rain. His clothes smell faintly of cabbage.
“Sorry about that,” he says with a wink. “I always like to play a little joke on agents when I stumble across them during my jaunts into town. Now, why did I summon you fine folk here again…?”
Dreng shakes his head from side to side, as though trying to knock water out of his ears, despite the constant downpour.
“Ah yes, the Wounded Wisp! I’m undercover now and can’t stray far from the site I’m watching, but I need someone to retrieve a package for me from that fine establishment. It’s among Absalom’s most storied taverns, you see, and one that holds a special place of privilege in the Society’s lore as the place where the organization began. Well, I could drone on and on about it, but standing out in the rain is doing none of us any favors.”
As if anticipating agreement, the bedraggled venture-captain produces a small slip of folded paper from one of his many stitched pockets. Dreng quickly shows a glimpse of the page’s contents: a map detailing the location of the Wounded Wisp bar.
“The bartender is a woman by the name of Heryn Gale, a fine lady who came to own the Wisp after the passing of her father from — oh, bah, it’s really getting too cold for me to give a proper history lesson! If you could just go to the Wisp, and tell Heryn you’re there to pick up my parcel, it would be most appreciated. I’ll be around here for several more hours at least.”
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The wrinkled gray thing grumbles something indistinct under his breath in Wayang, but then says he'll do it.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The drenched Venture-Captain cracks a mischievous smile at Lebraerio.
"Oh, you've probably seen me around the Grand Lodge from time to time. Now hurry along, before you catch a cold in this dreadful weather."
Dreng grows seemingly more impatient, but answers Xin's question with a smile.
"Not to worry. She's expecting you so there's no issue there. The parcel is actually a special vintage of wine from the cellar of the Wounded Wisp. I’ve been sampling their finer wines in descending order of bottling. I dare not disappear from my current role in this district, but I also would appreciate some comfort items. After all, I doubt anyone would judge a supposed beggar sipping from a bottle of wine.”
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In thick Tien accent Ok People, let's move out.
Sorry Archimeles, you no toga night tonight. It only men anyway.
Lets see dreary part of Pathfinder history, and get old man his vine, so he stop his whining.
Xin Xin looks at his companions, like he is measuring them from head to toe, and continues
I no give orders, but unless anyone has better idear..
Short break while looking around
If we stumble into trouble, Veilblade and me get on each side of whoever is causing it. And we should refrain from unnecessary bloodshed. Agreed?? it sounds like the last sentence is something rehearsed for a play. Much better common the the rest of his repertoire.
You find the Wounded Wisp without any issues. As you enter the somewhat seedy establishment, the smell of smoke and spilled ale assails the senses in this wide-open area. Walls of dark-stained wood make up the sides of the Wounded Wisp, while well-used wooden tables are spread throughout the space. A raised area in the back of the establishment houses several additional tables and eating areas for groups seeking more than just a good drink. An austere bar supported by kegs instead of wooden panels commands the northern end of the room. A stained-glass cabinet stands behind the bar, its dark panes cracked in several spots, yet not so opaque as to conceal the several dozen types of hard liquor within.
There are several patrons in here already; an cheerful halfling woman , a clearly kelish man bearing a holy symbol of Sarenrae, a pair of half-orcs who look so alike that they must be siblings, and and a older, bookish looking man drinking from a comically large mug of ale.
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The gray thing looks around for someone that can direct him to Drendle's contact, Shadowfang close on his heels (unless they don't allow wolves in here).
-Posted with Wayfinder
Janira is very glad to see Lebraerio again.
"I'm so glad to see you here! This is quite an establishment don't you think? Ah, if only the walls could talk... It's mostly pathfinders who frequent this bar, and there's even a couple in here now!"
She points to the kelish man.
"That is Aram bin Kaleel. He's an inquisitor of Sarenrae, and a very experienced field agent, though he is basically retired now and runs a curiosity shop in the Coins."
She then motions to the pair of half-orcs.
"Those are the Boartusk twins; Garl and Shrade. They're quite new to the society, and have been agents since they received their field commissions in Lastwall. They do have trouble finding assignments though, as they're, eh, more martially minded than the average agent."
Lastly she points out the older gentleman.
"Ah, one of the few patrons who aren't directly associated with the society. That is Yargos Gill, a military historian. He's worked with us at several junctures, though he does have a penchant for getting into trouble. Trouble, I may add, that the society has saved him from at least two times."
Aram bin Kaleel struggles to understand Xin's broken Common, as it isn't his mother tongue either, but brightens up when the kitsune mentions business and Sarenrae.
"I am indeed a business man and a humble devotee of the Dawnflower. I own a small shop in the Coins called "Kaleel’s Curiosities", where one can find quite interesting items. That is, if one has the necessary coin to afford it..."
He paused for a moment, seemingly mulling something over.
"You seem quite young for a active field operative. I take it that you haven't been on many missions yet?"
The barmaid looks down at the grey gnome and smiles.
"Well, the newest crop af agents just get's weirder and weirder don't they? Heryn is busy right now, but I'll let her know that you're looking for her."
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The constant downpour causes Lizbeth to sulk sullenly as the rain streams off her strangely beautiful face and soaks her light flowing clothes to the bone, the Vishkanya hadn't planned on rain this day as the accursed First mate had promised fine winds from their God, Gozreh.
Stepping into the Wounded wisp gratefully, Lizbeth slips her cloak onto the hook in the cloakroom and re-arranges her rapier sheathed on her hip. Sauntering up to the bar, Lizbeth shakes her head slightly to rid it of excess water and smiles to the server behind the bar.
"Good Evening, I would like a glass of fine brandy please, something to take the chill off."
Whilst awaiting her drink, she surveys the patrons to look for the best place to begin making allies before selecting the enthusiastic Janira. Once served her drink, she makes her way to the Halfling and gives her a graceful curtsey.
"Good day my dear, perhaps you could tell us more of the Society? My Captain ranks high, yet I still know very little I'm afraid."
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The short wrinkled thing huffs a bit at being called 'weird' but takes a seat where he can listen to the stories from the half orcs.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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The barmaid looks down at the grey gnome and smiles.
"Well, the newest crop af agents just get's weirder and weirder don't they?"
"I should say." Archimeles says, settling in beside them up against the bar, and looking critically at the people he walked in with.
"Heryn is busy right now, but I'll let her know that you're looking for her."
"Very good." Then after a moment's reflection adds, "You don't get many philosophers in here do you?"
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Uhh.. i to young, you to old.. same same.. yes? You part of Exhange?? ohh you should be... very good for business! you get export wares. very fine.
While failing, he continues to talk business with Aram until Xin Xin realizes he is on a mission.
Oh..your business very interesting, but sorry, i have things to do. Must get Wine for drunk VC. We talk shop later, yes? He apologizes, leaves the table and goes to the bar, to find the bartender.
Janira gladly engages Lizbeth in conversation.
"Oh there is so much to talk about! The obvious place to start is of course the Wounded Wisp itself. In this very room, 409 years ago, the Pathfinder Society was founded by adventures such as yourself, who used this bar as a meeting place to exchange their extraordinary stories. The most famous of those adventures was Durvin Gest, undoubtedly the most famous Pathfinder of all time. His exploration of the ruins of Azlant is the centerpiece of the very first issue of the Pathfinder Chronicles, and the azlanti relics he brought back were the precursors to the Wayfinders we use today."
She continues on a long and well thought through history of the society until someone stops her.
Meanwhile, Veilblade listens in on the Boartusk twins' conversation.
Shrade cuffs Garl on the head before snarling at him.
"It's all your fault, it is! If you'd be able to keep your pie-hole shut for just one minute at a time, we wouldn't have botched that last job."
Garl turns beet red and mumbles something.
Shrade's the only one who seems to hear what he said, and is clearly displeased with what she heard.
"A caltrop?! There's always a excuse with you. Ma would be ashamed. At this rate we'll never get invited to any big jobs, and we'll be a set of glorified mercenaries for ever! Is that what you want?"
Garl fidgets a while before mumbling, "No..."
"Good! Now let's get some more to drink."
At the bar the bartender shrugs at Archimeles' mention of philosophers.
"We get all sorts around here. It's part of the routine when most of the clientele are pathfinders. I'd wager that there's been a philosopher in here before."
Before long, a middel-aged woman steps out from behind the bar. She shares a few words with the bartender, who in turn nods in your general direction. She walk purposefully towards and speaks in a no-nonsense tone.
"So your Dreng's messengers, eh? You'd better follow me down into the wine cellar then."
She leads the way to the back of the bar and down a sturdy staircase into the basement. The basement shows clear signs of damage from the massive earthquake that struck the city 18 years ago, but the wine cellar itself is in pristine condition. She points you to the exact vintage Dreng requested and lets you to it.
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Lizbeth nods politely to the eager Halfling's tales and keeps a smile on her face. With the arrival of the owner and the completion of their mission in sight, the Vishkanya stands elegantly and gives Janira a short bow.
"Your stories are truly fascinating my dear, but I must be off, duty calls." Tipping her companion a wink, Lizbeth follows the no-nonesense owner to the cellar and whistles appreciatively at the pristine collection of Vintages.
"Well I'll be, an impressive sight to be sure, let us get the man the bottle and get to somewhere dry and have a drink!"
Seeing the Leb is content to look around and, trusting his keen eyes he waits for his assessment before taking the bottle.
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The short wrinkled thing makes his way to the bottle and picks it up. He lifts it high to present it to the party, then makes his way back.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Lebraerio sees nothing but dusty wine bottles.
As Veilblade grabs on to the requested bottle and tries to pull it out, the wine rack suddenly moves, revealing a room beyond. A sturdy silver chain jutting from the ceiling ends in a glowing orb that radiates yellow light across the rectangular room. A simple desk of polished wood, stacked with documents and scattered notes, shelters a pair of wooden chests against the south wall. A series of cracks along the eastern and western walls form makeshift entrances into exposed caverns.
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At the bar the bartender shrugs at Archimeles' mention of philosophers.
"We get all sorts around here. It's part of the routine when most of the clientele are pathfinders. I'd wager that there's been a philosopher in here before."
"Hmm. I don't know. I would expect more nicked crockery and patches to the place. Philosophers can get quite rowdy when arguing their points."
"So your Dreng's messengers, eh? You'd better follow me down into the wine cellar then."
This leads Archimeles to do a little thought experiment: How many Pathfinders does it take to collect a parcel? Five should be more than sufficient.
"Just scream as if undead horrors were chasing you through a dark, confined space if you need me."
He wanders over to the half-orcs' table and sits down with a beer. "You lads seem to be physicalists what say you about the multiple observers argument, that the existence of a physical being may imply zero or more distinct conscious entities?"
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The short gray thing pauses in his hoisting of the bottle to look over his shoulder at the new room, then back at the other Pathfinders. He seems frozen in place.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The half-orc twins stare blankly at Archimeles for a moment before breaking out in laughter, slapping him on the back and buying him a chaser for his beer.
In the meantime, Xin walks slowly into the secret room searching for anything interesting. Unfortunately for him, he is not alone in the room, and some creature falls down from the ceiling, right onto him!
, but it misses the kitsune.
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Lizbeth winces reflexively as their gray skinned companion grabbed the selected bottle and pulled it out, the ominous click and sign of a chain attached greeting them, rather than fine wine. The room beyond was a curiosity indeed, unexpected under such a dingy pub.
As their newest friend bounded forward, Lizbeth opened her mouth to offer warning, it would appear to be too late, as a weird creature dropped to the ground and striking the Kitsune. Sighing, she begins to dance sensuously, weaving in magic natural to her to inspire her comrades.
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"Just scream as if undead horrors were chasing you through a dark, confined space if you need me."
- YYYAAAARRRHHHH!!!!!
Xin Xin is doing a full retreat out of reach while drawing one of his swords and trying to identify what kind of creature it is using his only knowledge skill.
but is propably dazzeled with amaze that such an unknown creature can have a lair in the midst of Absolom without anyone knowing about it.
Kara blasts the creature with a force missile.
Enraged by this, the creature attacks Xin.