With Strange Aeons Even Death May Die

Game Master Synxol

We each dwell upon an island forged by our ignorance amidst the black seas of infinity. Should your feeble mind correlate the seemingly disassociated contents of your skull, thus affording you an opportunity to leave your island behind, terrifying vistas of reality will entomb you and you will never know peace.

It was only a matter of time...every species can smell its own extinction. The last ones left won't have a pretty time of it.


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Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Taking another drink of coffee from his battered cup, Ssilax's sapphire orbs sweep other those gathered here. He had surmised that magic was held under different views when he had spied the stone horses, and the woman, Ana, visibly casting a spell on the guardsmen's sword. The dragonkin was relived to see that he had been correct.

Perhaps what settled his anxiety even more was that no one had done more than raise a few eyebrows, or stared for a few moments longer than what would be considered polite.


Game master

Argon's offer to aid the guards is welcome and he learns about a number of threats that the caravan had to deAL with, trolls were a threat that normally came through, as well as wondering tribes of bugbears, hobgoblins, rapid animals, along with all sorts of other monsters. This forest was unnamed, due to the fact that. The drow had taken over the ruins of an elven city, that was about a month and a half of travel to the west. One would have to travel through mountains to get to that named forest, this forest was left unnamed due to the fact no one wanted to settle here, not even logging camps for too long.
Wrathe learns about the spell formula that Ana used to create the horses of stone, and what other components were needed as well to keep the crafting going. Wrathe also learns that if the horses were damaged, there were two ways on could go about repairing them, a stone to flesh spell and healing magics, then once the wounds were taken care of the horses would turn back into stone. Or, one could cast a number of repair spells to fix the damage.
Daxniss spends time as a guard during the trip, in about a week or so of travel time the group finds themselves about a day away of from Riddleport.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe waits for the next morning, after learning the spell, calls the others forth and casts the spell to provide them with mounts of stone, and continues to do the same each day of their travel.


Game master

Wondrous Items:
Wrathe
Aura strong transmutation; CL 14th; Weight 6,000 lbs.
Slot none; Price 10,000 gp (Courser), 14,800 gp (Destrier)

DESCRIPTION

This item is a roughly-hewn statue of a horse, carved from some type of hard stone. A command word brings the steed to life, enabling it to carry a burden and even to attack as if it were a real horse of the appropriate kind. A stone horse is combat-trained.

A stone horse can carry 1,000 pounds tirelessly and never needs to rest or eat. Damage dealt to it can be repaired either by feeding it gems (1 hp for every 50 gp value of the gem) or by casting stone to flesh, then using healing spells until it reaches its maximum hit points, at which time it automatically returns to its stone form.

There are two sorts of stone horses.

Courser: This item has the statistics of a horse with hardness 10.
Destrier: This item has the statistics of a heavy horse with hardness 10.
CONSTRUCTION REQUIREMENTS

Craft Wondrous Item, animate objects, flesh to stone; Cost 5,000 gp (Courser), 7,400 gp (Destrier)

So for the purposes at the post it, Wtahe just csat a variant for Phantom steed, since I just got online at the moment.

Riddleport:

Riddleport is the third-largest city in Varisia and is a haven for pirates and sea-faring brigands, who find themselves far to the north of the Arch of Aroden. Teeming with criminals and rogues of all kinds, Riddleport is full of potential danger and hard-to-avoid intrigue. Also known as the City of Cyphers, Riddleport takes its name from the Cyphergate, a giant stone arch spanning the natural cove around which the city is built. It is covered on both sides with ancient Thassilonian symbols, although their exact meaning is unknown.

Geography:

Riddleport is located on the north-western coast of Varisia, where the mouth of the Velashu River forms a natural cove off the Varisian Gulf. Placed between two large rocky bluffs each over 300 feet in height, the city occupies both banks of the river. The majority of the city is situated on the eastern bank, nestled behind the outer rim of the Calphiak Mountains, which cuts it off from hilly tidal swamps to the east. The Velashu finds its way through canyoned walls from the Velashu Uplands. Roads lead out of town to both the north and east, but they are poorly maintained, as most traffic in and out of the city is by boat.[1] The ominous Cyphergate, which towers over the entire harbor, is never out of sight, its rune-covered span dwarfing everything around it

Districts:

[ The Free-Coin District [/b]

The Free-Coin District of Riddleport is located in the northwestern corner of the city, on the far banks of the Velashu River. It gets its name from the fact that Overlord Cromarcky declared that all gambling halls in the district would operate tax-free. The reason for this, of course, is that the Overlord partially or wholly owns all these establishments. The three largest gamehalls, the Dragon's Hoard, the Watercress and the House of Nabin have all greatly increased in popularity in recent years, even though it is widely known that the games of chance are rigged in favor of the house.

Leeward District

The Leeward District of Riddleport encompasses the northeastern section of the city. Cradled within a rocky spur of the Calphiak Mountains, it is protected from the worst of the weather. Leeward is the primary residential district of the city, although many tenement buildings also have a shop on the ground floor

Lubbertown:
Separated by the spur of the Calphiak Mountains from the rest of the city of Riddleport, the district of Lubbertown is a lawless area that makes its own rules. It got its name from the fact that most people who settled here came via land versus the sea. Not patrolled by the Overlord's Gendarmes, the district has developed its own system of brutal justice

The River District
The River District of Riddleport runs along both sides of the Velashu River, on the western side of town. It contains numerous shops, but is the primary location for all the businesses that rely a steady supply of fresh and moving water. These include Riddleport's minimal manufacturing operations such as metal workers, lumber mills, tanners, and cloth makers, all of which dump their reeking effluvia directly into the river. A number of sewer pipes also end in this part of town, earning the area the unofficial moniker of "Reek District"

The Rotgut District

This district of disheveled businesses and collapsing tenements is crammed up against the city’s protective ridge. Easily the poorest section in the city proper, Rotgut also hosts the highest crime rate and the most brothels and alehouses per capita. Every crimelord seems to have a finger in the Rotgut District, though few actually dwell within its dubious environs.

Boneyard
his deceptively named place actually serves as the city’s dump and ship’s graveyard rather than the intended final resting place for the once-living, though there are certainly enough corpses that end up concealed here to give most city graveyards a run for their money. Its name is derived from the many old hulks and collections of ships’ ribs that protrude from the swampy ground. The whole area is a partially flooded salt marsh that is generally 2 or 3 feet deep, although some hidden patches of quicksand are much deeper.
The tidal influx keeps a mild current swirling through the marsh that stirs the garbage around until it collects in various clumps of decomposing compost that eventually form stable isles— some supporting considerable vegetation—within the swamp. Abandoned ships are towed up into the swamp from the bay during high tide by flat-bottomed skiffs and then set adrift. They quickly settle into the shallow waters, and the pull of the tide here is too weak to float any of them back out, though some of them do slowly change position over time due to the inexorable tidal forces. Several scavenging creatures are known to inhabit the fertile scavenging fields of the Boneyard, including the dangerous swamp barracuda and immense cockroaches.
In several places, numerous ship hulks have clumped together, forming tangled warrens of chambers interconnected by plank bridges, ropes, and crude ladders. Many of these are inhabited by packs of wererats, all of whom belong to a larger family run by a charismatic but still horrifically filthy killer named Ziphras (LE male wererat human rogue 4). Ziphras and his boys periodically venture into Riddleport in rat form to search for new opportunities for robbery, smuggling, and other highpaying crimes.

The Devil's Fork
Riddleport’s military district is nestled into the draws formed by the rocky ridgeline that guards the city’s east and north sides. The Fork guards the northern approach to the city. Within the draws have been constructed a stableyard and barracks for the city’s 250 gendarmes and a small force of light cavalry. In the southern draw is Shoreleave, the city’s fortress-prison compound backed up against the rocky ridge and said to extend underneath in tunnels mined out by prisoners sentenced to hard labor. General Anton Mescher (N male human fighter 8), Overlord Cromarcky’s right-hand man, oversees Shoreleave efficiently and fairly, and is one of the few people in power in Riddleport who isn’t seeking to gain more.

The Wharf District
This raucous district lies hard on the edge of the very docks of the city and is where much of the city’s day-to-day action of commerce and thievery occurs. Nearest the docks are a series of warehouses and cheap grog shops where merchant and pirate crews mingle in a haze of rum-soaked debauchery and blood. Once the most commercially successful portion of the city, its aged facade and Riddleport’s slow slide toward legitimacy have seen much of the action move northward to the Free-Coin District, leaving the Wharf District a tattered shadow of its former self. Inns and shops have grimed windows and peeling paint hinting at a prosperity that no longer exists, which is just fine for the run-of-the-mill pirate crew.

The Windward District

This affluent section of Riddleport consists of sturdy timber structures built upon the slopes of the city’s western ridgeline. It gains its name from the warm summer breezes that come in off of the gulf. Winding paths with steps cut into the bare stone provide egress through this steep district, and most buildings are several stories high with numerous balconies, many connected by narrow bridges. This district houses most of the city’s scholars and sages, and about 80% of the cyphermages make their homes here among these wind-blown tenements.

Riddleport

The city does remind you a bit of Caern, although each district does have it's own charm. The Pathfinder Society has a small chapter here in Riddleport, it would be a place to start for the party.


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon suggests the four stay together, as the city is unknown to them and seems a bit dangerous. Before saying goodbye to the caravaners, he asks about a clean and safe inn to stay in in the city.

Once they are alone and together, he says, "It seems this Pathfinder Society is the place to get information about where we want to go. Shall we pay them a visit?"


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Wrapped back up in his disguise, Ssilax nods, sapphire orbs scanning the crush of life in Riddleport.

"Did anyone happen to learn what district the society is located in while we where among the caravans?"


Game master

Daxniss pulls out a map that looks rather worn and says that she remembers hearing that the Society was based out in The Windward District, which the party will have to go through the Northern gates which sits about 8 miles away from the party.
As the party gets closer to the city, sticking together is best course of action, as each of you isn't certain about anyone's odds at being in a unfamiliar city. Not to mention the fact that all of you are from a different plane however, even though you are on a different plane there are many things that are the same: The wealthy like to stay away from the poor.
As the party gets closer to the gates, there is a small line forming up, basic inspection of goods the guards at the northern gates appear to be alert but wave merchants and travelers through the gate after a little bit of time. There is an air of routine about the guards, two watch towers sit above the portcullis where a number of guards can watch over those that have passed through the gates, until they get lost in the crowd. The other half watches out towards the road, looking for trouble trying on the road. The watchtowers sit 50 ft off from the ground, and are made from stone and wood, and appear well crafted to a trained eye.
Getting closer to the gate, you overhear the guards asking where folk are coming from, and their business in the city, a small tax upon entering the city of 1 gold per wagon, 5 silver a person. A few travelers grumble here and pay there way into the city and move on towards their destination.
Upon reaching end of the line, the guard asks Daxniss of where she came from and her business in the city, which she informs the guards that she came from the north with her friends and wanted to see a number of shops here in Riddleport. The guard snorts at her words and she passes over enough coins to pay for the party, and is informed that a guide can be found to lead her and her friends to where ever they want to go in the Windwall district, for the cost a silver.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe follows along and seeks his first opportunity to find a library to study more about this strange plane.


Game master

A young boy dressed in the same color as the guards comes forward and informs the party that he is their guide in the Windwall district, and that the first spot that they should go to is to secure lodgings at the Drunken Dragon, a spot that is affordable for a middle class merchants. It offers private rooms and a place to secure there goods as part of the inn's functions and price.
Unless the group wishes to go see the Society and inquire about jobs and learn, as it functions as a job board for adventures, and a small college for magi.


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

"Well, let us go check out the Society, and see if they can offer us any help. We can secure lodgings at the Drunken Dragon on the way," Ssilax says. He amused by the thought of a drunken dragon, keeping a chuckle to himself.

"Plus, I am very curious to peruse the library," the dragonkin says with a laugh.


Game master

The lad smiles at the party and leads you to the Drunken Dragon, where someone with some artistic talent has drawn on the sign, a humanoid gold dragon, with a flushed scales, holding a lass over it's shoulder and a keg on the other shoulder.
The outside of the inn is well maintained, and the building is rather large, it appears to be 4 stories tall, and roughly 100 ft wide, a small warehouse looks to be the stable area and a number of men stand outside the inn, looking for troublemakers, two are wearing no armor and have rather study looking saps along with a number of scars, one man is wearing clerical robes and has a slight bemused expression on his face, and the final one is dressed in light armor with a number of blunt and bladed weapons on him. All four nod respectfully at you and the lad, and one opens the door to the inn and says " Welcome to the Drunken Dragon. "

Upon your entry into the establishment, you can see that even during the day, it is well light and a number of bouncers can be seen keeping an eye out for trouble. There are enough tables to seat 100 people if they were to sit 4 per table, enough space can be had for all. A number of serving wenches can be seen taking orders and being drinks and food around, although it would is only a little bit past noon and there are about 40 people at the tables, enjoying there lunch.
What stops all of you for a moment is a half-dragon serving drinks, and talking to the people at the bar, and the folks there are laughing at what it is saying.


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Looking over the interior after returning the polite nod from the guards of the inn, the dragonkin was impressed by the size of the establishment. Distracted by the goings on with the tavern, Ssilax didn't catch sight of the being working the bar until a few moments later.

Stunned, the disguised Ssilax stops dead in his tracks at the sight of the half-dragon. For several moments, the cleric had thought it to be another dragonkin, as there where a number of similarities between the two race of beings. Swallowing a sudden lump of homesickness swirling amidst a number other emotions, Ssilax forces himself to get moving once more.

"Would anyone be opposed to having a quick lunch? I would like a chance to speak with the bartender," the towering robed and cowled figure turns to look at his friends. "There are some questions I have that are not properly covered by books written by those without scales," the dragonkin says with quiet chuckle. "Just a short conversation, as I do not wish to miss time within a new library, nor maps of a new land." Plus, the thought of being allowed in a place of learning without the threat of being burnt alive was beyond appealing.

Unsnapping his cowl, and sliding his robed hood back to reveal the Mask of Nethys that covers his draconic features and quartet of horns, Ssilax walks forward to the bar a distance away from the other bar patrons and sits down. Tugging off his gloves to reveal the golden scales that cover his arms up to the elbow, Ssilax drops the gloves in a robe pocket.

"Greetings. I would like to secure lodgings for my friends as well as lunch," the dragonkin says with a polite smile once the bartender had finished speaking with the other patrons.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

The sharp eyed wizard does not drop his guard as he moves into Riddleport, expecting the bloom to be torn free of the rose soon enough.

Perception: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 21

Wandering about he seeks to draw in as much information as possible about his surround.

Diplomacy to Gather Information (Hero Point): 1d20 + 3 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 3 + 8 = 30

Though he imagines all are seeking to cloak truths in lies.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (4) + 15 = 19

And tell more than a few lies of his own to cover the truth of the party.

Bluff: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (11) + 14 = 25


Game master

The sharp eyed wizard notices a few things in the party's trek into the city, there are a number of guards keeping watch in the Windwall District, any robbie that do happen would likely be at night. There are a number of shops and houses in excellent condition, a number of magic devices are used to help off load wagons.
The citizens of the city are not staring hard at anyone in the party, no one seems aoutright hostile towards you. Rumors about strange events happening in the poorer areas of the city are on some peoples lips.
Will post again when I get home about the details of the rumors to reward such a great diplomacy check for gathering information.


Game master

Wrathe hears many things in passing by in the crowd on the way to the Drunken Dragon:
1. There was a strange storm and some weird flashes of light in the forest from the north east about a week or so ago.
2. The Wererats are fighting any who come into their territory, and a number of clerics are investigating, along with a number of Paladins.
3. In the last few days there have been reports of a strange portal in the Chelix, the Society hasn't sent anyone officially.
4. A member of the high class society has been found brutally slain.

Wrathe manages to overhear much and in the bar keeps his story just vague enough that on one suspects anything unusual about him and his companions. Dax alludes that they are checking in the markets for transportation, alluding to 'holdings'.

The Half-dragon at the bar looks over at the new travelers and you might not hear the sound of coins clicking together in his mind, but he does seem glad that more people are coming to his inn. With a smile he ways the four of you and Dog over to empty seats at the bar, his common is easily understood, as if he has had many years to practice it.
" Come in, come in, I don't bite... unless you ask for it that is. " Stopping long enough to chuckle, he grins. Up close you can see patches of his scales that have hardened due to scaring, one of his fangs has a slight chip in it " Call me Zass, I own this relaxing little inn. " Zass towers over everyone, and the bar seems to have been built for a large sized creature and enough space for his tail and wings to have enough room to extend to a full size.
Breathing in deeply, his golden eyes sparkle for a moment " Hm, interesting... what can I do for you folks a number of rooms and perhaps some lunch? Lamb is our special this week, if the weather was chilly it would be a stew, also we have a vareity of meats if you are looking for something besides lamb. I think I still have some Evermead that some elves sold me a while back, also got some dwarven stout that was extra as well. " He stops looking all of you over then says with the good nature cheer bleeding out.
" I'll tell the four of you the same thing I tell all new arrivals at my inn, I suffer no fools, everyone here is safe to eat and drink here, as long as they break no laws, or my rules. There is no theft here, cause trouble and I'll sort it and you out. "
Zass nods at the four of you, the cloud of fierceness disappearing as quickly as it comes " Rooms are 20 gold a night, they price includes a bath, dinner, laundry service and a tailor as well. Drinks are separate of course. Each room has a small study in it, along with indoor plumbing. Any supplies that you wish to purchase, like books and inks, we can get it to you in an hour. Dogs are allowed of course provided that they stay out of the kitchen, any questions that you ask about me require you buying me a drink, along with one for yourself. " Zass says again with a smile, sliding a tankard over to each of you.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wine would have fountained from his nostrils, if the wizard had been drinking at the time. Even if he had that sort of money in local currency, which was not the case, paying forty times what he was used to paying to stay at an average inn was such that roosting in a chimney would be preferable.

Wrathe lets the others know that he will sleep under a wing this night, rather than stay here, or accept that another would pay for him, though he would coddle a single drink all night as they decided what to do next.

Strange portals and weird flashes of light felt like their natural course, since learning more about whomever sent the spectre to them seemed the best way to go, and he says so. Firstly he would like to find his way into a library and orient himself to the world they found themselves thrust upon.


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

"Dog will stay out of the kitchen, he is well behaved," Ssilax says with a laugh, eyeing the tankard in front of him as Dog "Wuffs," wagging his tail cheerfully. While he preferred wines, something to wash the caravan dust out of his maw wasn't a bad idea. Wondering why someone would want to be bitten by the half-dragon, Ssilax picks up his tankard. Suddenly realizing what the half-dragon had meant, Ssilax shakes his head slightly, chuckling to himself. Catching Wrathe's finger signs, the dragonkin snorts as he raises the tankard to his maw.

Flicking the clawed fingers of his left hand he signs back, 'We are celebrating a successful trip with the caravan. We can sleep in the gutters tomorrow,' Ssilax finishes the slight finger movements by glancing at his friend with a grin curving along one side of his snout.

"I think a room for each of us is in order. I like knowing that I do not have to worry about finding one after running errands all day," Ssilax says with a grin. Setting his tankard down, Ssilax digs out his coin pouch from an inner robe pocket. Handing Dax the coins(40), he looks back at Zass and chuckles. "Do not be deceived, she is an iron-fisted bookkeeper," the dragonkin says with a dry grin. 'That, and she was wise enough to switch out her monies with the caravan,' his grins stretches to an almost smile behind his tankard.

"You might as well add two more tankards on to the bill as I do have a question for you," Ssilax pauses to take another drink of ale. " Not presently about you, more concerning your experiences. Have you ever encountered any of my race, the Dragonkin in your lifetime?" Ssilax asks. While they might have been removed from his plane of existence, Ssilax hoped that they fled elsewhere. The thought that he might be the last of his kind, artificially created eons ago, frightened him in ways could hardly comprehend. Heart suddenly pounding within his chest, the dragonkin takes another drink.

Ooc:
Diplomacy (hero pint used before roll. This is also kinda because I had a last minute thought that maybe his species is actually really bad news and he doesn't know it, as in they where annihilated for a really good reason (other than just not being human). Like the dracionians from Dragonlance, not exactly loved by the masses :P): 1d20 + 25 ⇒ (18) + 25 = 43

The realization that the fear stemmed from more the thought of what he might do next. Ssilax wasn't sure if he was strong enough to resist the temptation to try and recreate his species. He was well versed in theories changing shape, even making the effects permanent. 'Not that you are strong enough to cast said magics,' came the whisper from the darkness his mind, causing a slight frown to slide across his muzzle for a moment. Creating a species that is capable of breeding on its own was another thing altogether, approaching the realm of godly power. Blinking his sapphire eyes slowly, Ssilax clears his mind and focuses on the here and know, not the what if, or maybe.


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss chuckles and slides over enough coin to cover everyone for the night, glad that she had traded in all of her gems in exchange for gold. Pocketing Ssilax coins she shrugs and says " Aye book-keeping is important enough. " Inwardly she winches at the cost, but it was the going rate, and rather than squabble over the prices since there was little that she had that could be easily bartered at the moment.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe reaches forth and draws back the coins to cover his room before they are swept into the inn's coffers. He hands them back to Ssilax, but makes no comment, and hopes that his decision will be respected.

Such an amount could purchase so many slaves...

Truth be told he was finding the trappings of civilization to be increasingly stifling as of late, and would prefer the company of a blanket of stars to a lantern-lit coffin, no matter how spacious.


Game master

Zass lets a booming laugh at Ssilax's words and says " Yes the lasses usually are better at numbers and the books " pausing long enough to take a swallow from his own tankard he considers the rest of Ssilax's words and smiles somewhat sadly and in Dragonic " Yes, I've seen one another Dragonkin before, it was a long time ago and she was a nutter to say the least. She had her plans on taking over a city and with her cult would have if she hadn't been stopped. Another was a good bloke and didn't deserve to be torn apart, he had saved a great many lives that day. All in all, so far I've only met the extremes, but I haven't heard about any new 'Kin for a hundred years or so. Some hold a viewpoint that they shouldn't exist but I think it each one should be judged on their actions. The disguise you've got will fool most without aid, as for me, little brother as long as you stay out of trouble I'll not judge ye. "
" Now you have my word I will not tell anyone who you really are, as I'm sure that you have many questions, and you all smell different from normal folk and from normal adventures. " He stops and pulls a ring out underneath the bar, some parchment and ink " I take it you all want to talk to the Society about important things. This ring and letter will get you into the building with no problems and get you past a fair amount of waiting around red tape, so to speak. The bloke you want to talk to is called doctor Earbris, about 40 winters or so, a white streak running at the side of his head from where a sword got to close."
Sealing the letter with some wax, he mutters an Arcane word and a symbol of a dragon sleeping on a pile of coin appears on the wax seal. Zass slides the letter over to Ssilax along with the ring, the ring is gold with touches of platinum in it, a word in Dragonic is etched into the band, that says 'Remembrance'.
Pulling from platters of steaming food, from underneath the bar, a mixture of steak, lamb, greens, bread and cheese. A bowl of meat and a lamb bone is placed on the bar as well, which looks like it is for Dog. Zass turns around to a shelf behind the bar and sets a wine glass down in front of Wrathe, pouring a red wine out expertly into the glass he looks at the you four and says " Lunch is on me folks. "


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Getting his coins back from Wrathe, Ssilax is puzzled for a few moments. He remembers that the caster shares traits with those who follow the druidic order. He smiles at his friend and pockets the coins once more.

Listening to Zass speak, the dragonkin was more than a bit surprised. By all the half-dragon had said, it had been a lot to dissect. He leans back in the stool as his mind races. Blindly, Ssilax gropes a few times for his tankard. Taking a deep pull from his drink he sets it back on the bar and sighs.

"A hundred years..," Ssilax mutters to himself tapping the black side of his snout. Realizing he had fallen silent for a few minutes, the dragonkin shakes his head to clear it. He looks up at Zass, something that he wasn't used to doing as smiles faintly.

"I always try to stay out of trouble. Thank you for the assistance, I greatly appreciate it, and I might have a few more questions for you later," Ssilax nods to the half-dragon. "It is better news then what I was expecting," the dragonkin faint smile returns. He slides the sealed letter into his robes, followed by the ring, after looking at for a few moments.

Setting Dog's meal down for the canine, the dragonkin digs into his own platter of steak and lamb. He chats with the others and Zass, asking a few general questions about the area and how long the inn has been open.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe Jor Sepai rolls his wine about the glass, pushing centrifugal forces to the brink, dangerously close to the wearing the tortured grapes upon his robes. Slyly glancing about he softly snaps his fingers over the libation, uttering an arcane word, and spicing the wine with prestidigitative magics. Glancing about he expects to be run through for the overt display of arcane magics.

Next thing he will be seen reading in public, but that was a step for a more suicidal day.

Riddleport's small chapter of the Pathfinder Society interested him, not for the work, though that would be useful and potentially illuminating, but for the small college of magi.

"I am for the Society."


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon remains quiet, eyes and ears open and taking in the sounds, sights and smells of Riddleport. It is not a pretty place, but is akin to Caern, he thinks. He wonders about a great many things, and is surprised as one of them is answered. As they walked, they saw signs of worship that were similar or identical to the symbols on Sel Torin. That, and the fact that people spoke much the same, and looked much the same, suggested strongly that bridges between the two worlds are much more common than he had earlier thought. Perhaps Sel Torin's antipathy to magic was isolated, or more so than he had been led to believe. Or perhaps there used to be more bridges, but there aren't any longer. Something to discuss with the others.

As they walk, he hangs back a bit; something he does not usually do. But it allows him to watch others as they pass his friends; how they react to him, whether they give a second or third look. He remains within striking distance, of course, but his family members could take care of themselves, certainly. They had changed so much in the last while.

Perception: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (4) + 15 = 19

Upon entering the Drunken Dragon, and finding it staffed by a Dragon man, he is again a little surprised. He wonders if this one is drunk, or is a drunk.

He watches the exchange between the dragon man, Zass, and his friends, quietly. But when lunch is offered and then given, he is very appreciative and thanks Zass profusely, looking into his eyes and trying to pry out any deception (studied target).

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14

If there is none, he eats heartily. As a favour returned, he offers a Caern gold to the half-dragon, one with an image of the previous king, and asks in Draconic, "Which realm is that from?" with a smile. A test, of sorts.


Game master

No deception can be seen in the Zass, once Argon gives him a gold coin, he stiffens, turning an eye at the four of you and winches again and says " Child, a man you may be in stature, but a child in heart, I heard rumors about a storm. Didn't think that it was a portal though, explains the smell coming from all of you. I am a little versed in magic and planes, the Society will have answers to more of your questions then I might have. A fair amount of what I know that plane, isn't pretty, getting access to Sel Torin is extremely difficult. That reality likes to keep it's citizens to it's plane, unless you are bringing in devils. "
Shaking his head, he pulls another bottle from a shelf behind him, heavy dust can be seen on it, pulling out five little glasses, he opens the bottle with a grunt, an amber colored liquid is poured to a finger in each glass.
" Dragon's fire is what this is called, I distill batches of it once every 100 years or so, it is a hard spirit, but if you five somehow got from there to here, then I welcome you. From what I understand Sel Torin sacrificed much, and they hate magi, hate it with the passion of zealots. The only way I know of getting back there is going through Sigil.... " He trails off and takes a shot, his eyes distant as if lost in memory for a moment.
" I can tell it is gold, that much for certain the scales tell me the truth in coin. I'll have to melt this one down, not many vendors will believe it to be a real coin, you might be able to convince some of the simple merchants that it is an old coin, stamped from some lost age. " The entire conversation is in Dragonic.
" I'd ask for a few simple tales that you feel free to share, I have no desire to ever visit though. "


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Ssilax watches as Zass pours the Dragon Fire into into shot glasses. Something the golden half-dragon had stood out in his mind. He had said that Sel Torin was reluctant to release those from the Plane. Unless, they where out to spread more devils. His gut said that had to be Asmodeus's influence, as their brief encounter with the Devil God, the avatar had seemed angry that they had interfered. Perhaps their actions had loosened the God's grip on their home plane. Something he would have to think about in more detail, not to mention to discuss his theory with Wrathe and the others.

Raising the glass to his nostrils, the dragonkin inhales the scent of the amber liquid. He salutes his friends and than Zass with the small glass.

"To family and newly made friends," Ssilax says with a smile as he toasts the others. Returning the toasts, the dragonkin raises the shot and drinks half of his shot, wanting to enjoy the rare spirit. The taste of the burning liquid was smokey and had a hint of spice that he couldn't place. Licking his lip plates, the dragonkin lets out a happy sigh and smiles once more. "Sweet Nethys, that is delicious! Thank you once more, Zass. And I can think of a few tales for you, after we finish up today," Ssilax says with a nod and a grin.

Thinking for a moment, Ssilax turns back and looks to their guide and waves the boy over.

"My apologies for being rude, would you care for lunch? We will need to be guided to the Pathfinder Society after the meal." the dragonkin says with a nod, switching back to common.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe was a dichotomy in that he was almost foolhardy at times, especially in terms of exploration or magic, but conservative in his interactions with others. He would not have shared their origins, and as such remains silent through the exchange.


Game master

The rest of lunch was a pleasant affair, Zass wonders away to serve a number of citizens lunch and booze, and the inn fills up rather quickly with patrons. Upon leaving the Drunken Dragon, the inn bouncers/guards nod at you and wish you a pleasant day.
The guide takes you through more streets, where the shops give way to houses, and then to manors complete with gates and guards of their own. Finally you reach the building where the guide informs you that this is the chapter of the Pathfinder Society, the building plaque states that this is indeed the Pathfinder Society and College. The building is two stories tall, about 80 feet wide, a small gate can be seen on the side of the building that looks like it holds a small garden.
Upon reaching the front door, there is a sign that says 'Open the door and go to the front desk, unless it is evening time then wait until tomorrow.'


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon does not hesitate, though he watches carefully as he opens the door and enters, watching for the front desk.


Game master

Once the front door is opened a woman looks up from the front desk, a stack of paperwork can be seen sitting in a tray marked IN . The paperwork is about 6 inches high, and a number of scrolls are rolled up and sealed as well, sit on top of the stack. The woman reseals a scroll and puts into another tray at the end of the desk that is marked OUT
Clearing the ink from her hands with a simple spell, she looks at Argon and cocks an eyebrow and says in a sharp voice " If you are late on dues, you will want the door to the west. " She points to a door about 20 ft away from the desk, that is marked Pathfinder Representative.
Everyone notes that the inside of the building is larger then what the outside of appeared, those with the ability to see auras of magic, note that the entire inside of the building is radiating magic. The interior the building is 80 feet high, a large set of stairs can be seen behind the desk, there is a landing about 20 feet up and there are stairs leading up and to the west and another set of stairs leading up and to the east. The interior of the building is a cherry oak, and a number of lights can be seen radiating no heat.
Everyone can see a number of adventures moving around on the second story, some are moving at a quick pace rapid conversations can be heard, nothing of interest can be overheard. At a glance it looks like this is a college and a guild of mercenaries, people that do good, and others that are out to sell their skills as needed.
The woman at the front desk is seated her hair is sheered close to her scalp and some grey can be seen, and while she isn't wearing armor a number of scars can be seen on her hands and on her sleeveless tunic. Corded muscule can be seen in her arms, and it looks like her nose has been broken a number of times, a little placard on top of the desk reads ' Helen ' Underneath that reads front administration and security.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

The open demonstration of literacy sucks the breath from Wrathe's lungs in a way that surpasses his shock at seeing the open display of arcane magic. Standing there agog, it is all he can do to not have his mouth hanging agape.

"We are here to join your Society, and speak to Doctor Earbris."

He steps aside to permit Ssilax to present the ring and letter to speed their progress so he can find himself entombed by tomes of knowledge of this world.


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Ssilax was a bit flabbergasted when they entered the Pathfinder Society. The open literacy was a pleasant, but not so much a surprise, the continued practice of arcane magics, openly, for that matter, still makes him twitch, eyes seeking guards to come pouring out of the walls. Unlike their home plane of existence, almost everyone seemed literate, or at least capable of making out some characteristics. So many questions filled his mind, as he mentally shuffles the list of things he wanted to research in his mind. He glances over at Wrathe and grins at his friend.

"I feel like our home is going to need a lot of work after witnessing all of this," the dragonkin says to his friend with a chuckle as they begin to move once more.

Looking at the warrior-woman setting behind the desk, Ssilax nods to the keeper of the gate, as they group of friends walks up to her desk.

"May we speak with Doctor Earbris first before joining?" the disguised dragonkin asks as the woman looks Argon up and down. He pulls out the sealed letter and ring, presenting them to Helen.


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon is surprised at everything he sees. It all seems so civilized, advanced.

Then, he is shocked to hear they are joining this 'society'. "Yes, I for one would like to know more before I join any group such as this. But we do have questions, and were told we should talk to Doctor Earbris." He tries not to appear too green; after all, this woman appears to be a veteran of sorts.


Game master

Helen gives a caustic snort at the words and opens the sealed letter, looking at the contents she blinks a few times muttering a few words under her breath, she slams the letter down, looks at the ring in Ssilax hands, and swipes if from the Dragonkin's hand. You faintly hear from her lips " ....Begotten Scaled Jackass....... "
Helen places the ring on her finger, and then picks up a small stone, and her mouth moves but no words can be heard. After a few moments she sets the stone down and gives what you would guess a warm smile:
" The door on the east will take you to the sitting room while 'Doctor' Earbris manages to get to you. Thanks to the letter I now will have to come up with paperwork for you lot. Dues are once a year, depending on the jobs that you complete for the Pathfinder Society, you will at minim have to pay 10 % of the income you receive from the Society and a 5 % percent of any looted treasure. A receipt is always given for any jobs that you complete by us. Failing to pay your annual dues means denial from receiving help from other members, access to the library, spells, scrolls, healing, and being supplied. Every month you fail to pay your annual due tacks on a 10% increase to the dues given. "


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss was more taken back about the last few hours and had been keeping in an eye on the groups back side, she wasn't surprised by Argon going ahead and telling Zass where they were from. That was Argon's nature in play, still having enough sense to keep a look out on the parties back was second nature.
Dax looked over at Helen, there was something more off putting about the woman at the desk, it felt that she was only at the desk doing paperwork because age had forced her too, not by choice. Daxniss looks at the others then the door to the east that was marked, waiting room shrugging at the others she leads the way.


Game master

Helen gives the group a shooing motion with her hands and informs all of you that the Doctor will be with you soon, and to help yourselves to any tea, coffee, or ale in the room.
Glancing over at the door, the rest of you see Daxniss waiting for you the rest of you, the large oak door looks like it could withstand a blow from a giant, it is indeed large enough to walk a wagon through with little problem.
Upon opening the door, you see a number of couches, a table with plates, silverware, cups, tankards, and napkins. In the center of the table is a bowl of fruit, a number of crackers with various cheeses, a pot that smells like coffee, a tea pot, and on one section of the wall, a bookshelf with a number of books on it.


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

After being shooed away, but still curious about the story behind the letter and ring, the dragonkin makes his way over to Dax. His nostrils flare slightly as the scent of coffee reaches it. Walking over and pouring himself a steaming cup of the black liquid life. Sipping at the coffee, the dragonkin reads over the titles of the book.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

It was never Wrathe's intention to remain upon this plane, though a visit was well appreciated. There was far too much of him upon Sel Torin to abandon permanently, so the idea of joining any society was not anathema to him, since he did not plan to be here long enough to worry about annual dues, or being out of step with some of their beliefs.

He busies himself over to the books, draws a few down, finds a couch, and loses himself in their stories...well, loses himself as much as a gopher can sun itself with hawks circling above, for he keeps expecting such open displays of literacy to result in his untimely demise.


Game master

Everyone gets comfortable and no sooner then everyone taking their seats along with whatever they choose to drink, read, and idly snack on, then the door opens. A man practily panting from where ever he ran from, with a white streak of hair on the left side of his head, on what would normally be raven black enters the room.
Doctor Earbris' eyes are a piercing blue, he is dressed rather elegantly in his black clothes, he puts on a pair of glasses and then shuts the door, smiling at all you he says " Fantastic. Utterly fantastic, it is a pleasure to meet you all. " His voice has a bit of an accent, then again so did almost everyone one you have met.
Doctor Earbris' hands tap his chest and he motions to the table, as if to ask if he may take a seat with the rest of you. It would seem that the good doctor is excited to meet all of you, treating you as if you were unexpected guests.
" Forgive my manors, I am Doctor Earbris, I study planes, those that dwell in those planes, magic, and history, I have never seen people from Sel Torin and I am delighted to meet you, I am sure you have many questions to ask me, as I have of you. It was only a theory that was recently talked about, that we might have people coming to visit Golarion, I shall do my best to help all of you. " He says excitedly.
Looking over at the Doctor, you can see he might be 40 or years old, but his manor and the amount of energy he seems to give off is more of a man in his early twenties, his long coat could hide a number of items of value and you see the shine of rings on his fingers.


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Gesturing for the doctor to take a seat, Ssilax removes his gloves, cowl and deep hood. Taking a drink from his cup of coffee, the dragonkin smiles at Earbris.

"It is a pleasure to met you Doctor Earbris. We are indeed from Sel Torin, and arrived a week ago, something that was a bit on the unintended on our part to be perfectly honest. We had an.., encounter with with one, housing some sort of spirit. It is a theory I have that it might have created a temporary gate. Plus, that area in our plane is known as the Umbral Lands, places where Primal magic flows freely and chaotically, so it is possible that was the cause. Although I believe that to be unlikely." Ssilax speaks. Blinking a few times, the dragonkin shakes his head slightly. "My apologies, my name is Ssilax, I am a priest of Nethys. These are my friends," Ssilax gestures to his friends, waiting for them to introduce themselves.

"Our chief problem is reaching Sigil, as that is the only way back to our own realm. You are correct as far as questions we have and and I believe we will be able to answer your own questions," the dragonkin says, taking a drink of his coffee.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe enters into a line of questioning to draw in information of the physics of the realm, sweeping questions about histories, gods, the theories of the formation of everything, creatures, geopolitics, and the like. It is all little more than a survey, but hopefully it will provide enough of a foundation to ground his later research.

He ends by asking if there is a library that they can use.


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon helps himself to the refreshments, looking around for something stronger than coffee. Not finding it, he shrugs, and takes some tea.

He nods as Ssilax relates the group's current problem. He introduces himself, "I'm Argon, the group's muscle, so to speak, and a priest of Ptah. It seems we have mutual interests and we'll be able to help each other. We didn't really think we'd have to join your organization.

I'm curious about what made you or others expect a visit from our world, as we didn't plan it at all.."


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

It is with a jaundiced ear that Wrathe listens to the doctor's words.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (20) + 15 = 35 (critical success)


Game master

The doctor sits down at the the head of the table, pouring himself a cup of coffee, taking a book out of his pocket he also takes out an ink pen, but gets no ink vial. Quickly writing down all of your names and some of what you have informed him of who you were and where you came from. While he is writing he starts telling you a number of things about Golarion and the people that live there.
Many hours pass as he enlightens the party about the various religions of the world, the deities, some current events for the last 5 years or so. He also informs you of a number of things about the Pathfinder Society as about 60 years ago the Society was more interested on staying in the shadows, learning things, hidden knowledge, and generally about how they went from being more spies, then adventures.
All this started to change once a retired adventurer wanted a better way to get information, helping out the common folk, preserving knowledge and also spreading knowledge. Rather then trying to hire adventures or 'Heros' he would have a number of them clear out area's that were too dangerous, this there were two facets of the Pathfinder Society, ones that would get jobs to fight monsters, help the common folk out with problems. In essence he wanted to create a hiring hall with certain rules.
Once he was found killed due his beliefs, his son who had been away in reviewing things in another prime material plane called Ebberon, came back and took over for him. Vowing to make sure that the Hiring Hall would have no assassinations, nor criminal acts, the Society was able to spread to other cities in the open.
The doctor talks about magic and open literacy was becoming more the norm, as there was still problems that some people had with magic, it was being eased, there is still some fear of magic over in the more remote areas. Of course war was still a problem as each nation state had their own ideas on how to do things, The people of Golarion were better off then they were before.
Time has passed and the Doctor says that he will talk with you more tomorrow as he had a number of things that he had to complete tonight, and he would gladly hear more of Sel Torin, and ways for you to return. After all it would seem that one of the few ways to get you back to your home plane would require travel to Sigil, unless you wanted to travel back to Sel Torin from the Hells, which he doesn't recommend to say the least.
Wathe can tell the the Doctor is indeed not hiding anything from the group, nor is he telling falsehoods, he can also tell that the doctor is hoping that the group would stay here on Golarion, and that he believes his own words to be truthful. In short this man is wants to befriend the whole group for nothing less then they are not native to Golarion. No malice can be detected in his words, and he has no hate in his heart over the fact that none of you are human.
Dax had said a number of small things doing the doctor's questions, but not reveling anything about the groups ideas, or goals, giving the doctor a fair enough account of how things were in Sel Torin. It wasn't a matter of trust, but second nature to be truthful enough to pass muster.
Wrathe finds the man to rather knowledgeable about, magic, mathematics and a fellow scientist, when all you talk about how magi are treated he has a horrified look on his fact and shakes his head, and writes this down with a hint of rage in his notebook, he keeps his opinions out from what you tell him. Sticking to just the facts and the new information about Sel Torin.

Before he leaves he says to all of you " Zass is an old friend to the Society and while he doesn't work for us anymore he, he does help us out. I am glad that you went to his inn first, otherwise I would not have been able to talk to you for perhaps months. I recommend that you do not tell many about where you are from, most people would not understand and think of you as mad. Or try to use you to further their own means of invasion and possible conquest. "

Sorry about my late posting, I was doing some moving things and out of town and got back late last night. Oh by the way Ding yourselves to Level 9


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Thoughts of an equivalent of the Pathfinder Society operating on Sel Torin, with its suicidal literary aspects well hidden, are considered by the wizard and it is something he will speak to the others about as they travel.

Wrathe asks but one question before Earbris departs, "How might we cross the veil to Sigil from Golarion?"

When they are alone he seeks the counsel of the others to see where they stand on speaking to the doctor to try to gather more information about the event that brought them there, and the homicidal spectral messenger as well.

The wizard relays his conclusion about the truth of the man's words and intentions before departing to bury his nose in tomes until the next time they are required; fully wishing to utilize the extra time daily wrought by the ring of sustenance.


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon appreciates the time the Doctor spends with them, and looks forward to their next meeting. It's refreshing to find someone, a whole organization, no less, whose primary interest is the gathering of knowledge of all types. It would be impossible for such an organization, with the reach and power it has, to be immune to regional politics and political bias, but it sounds like this Society is able to minimize those effects.

Such an organization in Caern (or Sanctum), if Wrathe suggests is, would have to operate quietly, if not completely clandestinely, but such a network of knowledge would be very interesting, and powerful.

Argon plans to buy some new clothes on this day, to better fit in and to feel good. After a bath, new clothes will be a small but welcome comfort. He looks at his old clothes and considers throwing them away. But after a wash and a mend, they may be useful in some capacity.


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss wonders what else they could do when they got back to Caern after all, they now had an model on how things were working in the Pathfinder Society and it answered a number of questions. Dax lets the thought drift into the back of her mind, there was far too much to do to let herself be distracted by thinking about how to move things in the shadows so to speak.
Availing herself to her room and then to the bath, she makes note that it would be time to fix some of her clothes, casting a simple cantrip, she cleans and fixes her clothing with magic, since she hadn't been doing much with her spells lately and she felt the simple pleasure from using magic here.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe drums his fingers upon the hardwood of the table and considers their next move. Someone wanted them here, mysteriously attacking them to deliver the message, and their transport had transpired without their leave. Curiouser and curiouser.


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Lowering himself into the near boiling water with a sigh, Ssilax sinks down until just his nostril slits are above the surface. The dragonkin lets the warmth sink into his scales. He thinks about the short meeting that the four friends had, finding themselves all pretty much in agreement that something like to Society could work in Sel Torrin. Just not out in the open, of course. The thought of an information network, beings sharing knowledge with each other was a pleasant one to the dragonkin.

Nearly floating within the big tub, Ssilax reflects upon the day. They had learned a great deal of Golarion from the doctor. This Prime did indeed seem like a paradise from the persecution of arcane magics and literature. To be fair, from what the doctor had said about this Prime's history, this was not always the case. He doubted it was as bad as their home Plane, but they had at least managed to start a change.

Whether or not they could get the seeds of change to actual grow and blossom was another story altogether.

Letting his mind wander within his watery cocoon, Ssilax finds himself thinking about what Zass had said about the dragonkin he had encountered. A deep scowl cuts across his muzzle and a growing anger destroys the tranquil mindset he had been enjoying.

Setting up like a corpse rising from the the ground, the dragonkin drips the sides of the tub, snarling deep within his chest.

"What are they hiding from me?!" Ssilax growls darkly, claws scratching into the porcelain, anger coiling within his chest. All of his own searching turned up nothing but the ruined site of the village of his hatching, and a few other husks that where once villages. His ancestral memory was also little use he had discovered. The ghosts from the past seemed as clueless as he was. The lack of any really concrete information within the former Lich's library, texts that he had already read in Caern had been near maddening. It was just more speculation that they had fled with the dragons.

The reaction the bronze dragons had when he had greeted them to give thanks for their aid saving Caern, had been a clue that had not been the case. They viewed him as an abomination. At the time, he had thought it to be dragon superiority, and Ssilax not being a pure dragon. Now.., now Ssilax wasn't so sure that was the case.

Drying himself off with a few muttered words, Ssilax paces the length of his room, half-hoping that doing something physical would let him get a grip on his anger. Dog notices that the dragonkin's curious shadow seemed to be leaning against the wall, it's arms crossed. The canine cocks his head to the right and "woofs" when the shadow turns it's head to look at the familiar as if curious.

"Somewhere, some when, someone knows something about my people. I will have my answers," the dragonkin growls to himself. Adamant that he would answer the question haunting him from his youth, Ssilax dresses. Noticing Dog looking at something, the dragonkin turns to see his shadow leaning against the wall, completely ignoring the flameless light over it's shoulder. "I thought we agreed you would keep your roaming to a minimum." His shadow shrugs and walks over silently, obeying the rules of light and shadow somewhat resentfully.

For just a moment, Ssilax feels as though something clicks in his mind now that he is no longer content to so godsdamn passive concerning his people. Something deep with the dragonkin felt right, as if he had made the right choice. A pulse of energy hits the dragonkin, freezing him within his scales. A pleasant tingling flows into his face, worming it's way under the scales.

Suddenly able to breathe and move once more, the dragonkin slowly walks over to the room mirror. Looking closely at the mirror, he could see a minor change after a few moments. On the near light absorbing side of his scaled face, very faintly, he could make out small lines of red that pulse opposite of his heartbeat. On the perfect white side of the Mask of Nethys, faint golden lines pulsed with his head beat. Thinking, he guesses that the lines traced a few of the arteries and veins underneath his scales, his anger slowly evaporating.

"It seems that you approve of my desire to answer the question of the dragonkin. My deepest and sincerest thanks for your blessing Lord Nethys," Ssilax reverently touches the holy symbol that makes up his face. After a few moments of looking into the Mask of Nethys, Ssilax turns and begins to get dressed. Dog watches him with a raised eyebrow, wagging his tail slowly.

Looking at the claw marks that he had left on the surface of the tub, he prays for a moment and points at the damage, watching as it is seemingly erased from reality. About to grab his robe, Ssilax pauses. Smiling to himself, the dragonkin leaves the concealing robe on his bed. Wearing his knee length breeches and vest like tunic, the dragonkin nods to Dog.

"Tonight, if anyone asks, I am a half-dragon, I'm not about to cower under my robes here," the platinum and golden scaled dragonkin says to his familiar who barks, tail wagging happily. Scales reflecting the light akin to the metal they resemble, the dragonkin grins. "If you stay out of the kitchen, I promise to not cause any trouble," the dragonkin's laughter echoes off the walls of his room. He wasn't about to spend his first night here cooped up in his room. Ssilax did enough of that in the catacombs in the castle. At least there he had ghosts to speak with.

Leaving his room, after locking the door, Ssilax heads down to the main area, out for a meal, and a few drinks. 'Not to mention whatever information I might able to drag out of Zass. I think my liver is in going to be hating me. If anything, I might be able to learn more about half-dragons,' Ssilax thinks with a shrug of his shoulders. Dog, and his shadow, where both on his heels.

Greeting the half-dragon with and upraised arm, Ssilax's teeth flash as he grins. He noted that he didn't have to push his way through the night time crowd.

"I decided it was time for a meal, and some more questions," Ssilax says once he reached the bar. While it was a bit noisy, he certainly didn't have to shout over the noise of the night time crowd, still grinning faintly. Dog stands up on his hind legs and puts his paws on the bar counter near Ssilax, and "Wuffs" in greeting.

Not that he really expected to learn anything, the dragonkin was happy to speak with another dragon-blooded individual, not to mention a language his maw had been designed for. A good meal, a few strong drinks, and a few swapped tales of adventures was pretty much all the dragonkin was expecting.


Game master

Over the course of dinner, Zass had told Ssilax much about Half-dragon's of course he had stated that the fact of the matter that each Half-dragon's society was different depending on what type of dragon they were descended from. Ssilax learns more about the community of what gold dragons were, and adding into the fact that dragon's had a habit of sleeping with anything when they were younger of course.
It would be difficult for Ssilax to remember more everything with the amount of alcohol that Zass could put away, since the Half-dragon could out drink many of the patrons at the bar. Age brought about a tolerance that would be something to write about to say the least, and the fact he doesn't seem to be that affected by the drinks.
Ssilax after a number of hours and the room spinning in directions that are hard to determine, is carried up stairs and into his room, his stomach stretched by food and drink, as it hadn't been his intention to drink that much, but the amount of questions he had of Zass were many.
Zass had a number of previous adventure's to talk about and answered a number of other questions that Ssilax had.
Daxniss grunts and puts Ssilax in his room, pouring a glass of water and setting it on the nightstand next to the Dragonkin, and grabs a bucket from under the bed, making sure the Ssilax is lying on his stomach, and tilts his head so if he does vomit he will not choke on it.
Leaving the Ssilax's room she shakes her head and goes back to the bar, there was not much else to do for her, and there was other things that she wanted to talk to about with Zass, not all of them involving drinks.
Argon is able to get new clothes if he wishes, as there was a number of servants at the Inn just for that purpose to buy supplies on behalf of those that are staying at the Drunken Dragon.


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon takes a bath while the servants clean and fix his clothes - they paid for this service, so he would make use of it. When done his bath, he dons his old clothing and decides he really needs some new.

He would like to choose his own clothes, so he thanks the servants and goes out to find some. He is not overly fussy, and chooses a few tunics, one in blue and one in red, some pantalons, smallclothes and other accessories, including a leathern hat, for when he's not wearing his helm.

After putting on his new clothes, right at the tailor's shop, he heads back to the inn and puts away his new and old apparel. He leaves it there and heads down to join the others. Ssilax seems to be ahead of him, drink-wise, so he sits and asks for something new and interesting. He hits Ssilax on the back, gives Daxniss a hip bump, and looks around for Wrathe.

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