Gameplay thread. We will begin on September 6, 2021.
"“Greetings, Pathfinders,” Venture-Captain Canayven Heidmarch begins.
“Pathfinder agent Sandricaan has contacted the lodge in Magnimar with the news of the discoveries about the Sky Citadels recently made by the four of you and your colleagues."
He gestures to Fethril, James, Deluge, and Kyra.
"Merisiel is in high demand for her particular set of skills, so has been called elsewhere. Two Blades in the Shadows will be providing those capabilities on this mission."
He nods to a Shoanti man.
"Kavor Doan was also called elsewhere. Well, more to the point, he insisted that this mission was a horrible idea that would end with six heads mounted on orc pikes."
The Venture-Captain gives a nervous smile. "I'm sure it won't come to that. But in any event, Rogar Cordan has volunteered to accompany you."
He nods to a very large and ugly dwarf.
"My wife and I are interested in following up on this development as quickly as possible. We need to get you into Koldukar, the Sky Citadel that lies beneath the orc city of Urgir, deep in the Hold of Belkzen.”
He pauses for a moment to gauge your reactions.
Rogar is apparently a large ugly dwarf ;) who is muscular and wears monks robes.
"Kavor Doan was not entirely wrong; marching to Urgir as you are would be an order just shy of a death sentence, and I want to ensure that you have sufficient intelligence to get in and out in one piece. Only one Pathfinder in recent history—Eando Kline—accomplished this task, and he's not a resource that we can draw upon at this time. Kline traveled through Urglin, a small city made up largely of orcs in the eastern reaches of Varisia, and I have reason to believe he learned about a hidden passage into Koldukar that allowed him to avoid the worst of Urgir altogether. Once you learn where this passage is, I want you to meet with me two days' travel southeast of Urglin. There we will assess exactly how to proceed."
The venture-captain takes a deep breath as he surveys the
terrain.
"Let us discuss Urglin and its surroundings. As you may know, the Cinderlands are a hostile, brutal territory due to both the environment and the inhabitants. So long as you do not linger, the Shoanti are unlikely to give you trouble, but keep a careful eye out for the cinder cones, emberstorms, and many other dangers of the Cinderlands. Urglin itself is a very..."
Heidmarch pauses as if searching for a polite term...
Then gives up...
"brutal place that is more a repulsive scar than a true city.
Orcs are the dominant species, an all others survive there at the orcs' pleasure."
"You're professionals, Pathfinders," he concludes.
"Get in, find the necessary information, and ensure that any other risks you take are calculated ones. Good luck."
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Deluge gapes at him, edging for the exit.
"You want us to infiltrate orc territory and sneak into an ancient dwarven citadel in the middle of their insane tribes? No, UNDER one of their most populous cities? That does sound suicidal."
then a thought occurs to him.
"Unless you have some way of disguising us as orcs?"
At which point he brightens considerably.
"Or, in my case an innocent looking bird."
As long as I fly high enough to not tempt them to make a meal of me.
Deluge is a portly (to be kind) middle aged, balding man who enjoys his creature comforts. During the wait period he has indulged in odd looking and rather pungent snacks from a rapidly dwindling goodie bag, which were then washed down by and equally pungent drink that smells something like sour milk.
He wears a red tinted leather breastplate and has a wooden shield and club, all earmarks of the venerated druidic order. Though, if there is any muscle under all that fat it is probably so over-exerted just carrying his bulk that there would be little left to swing the club with any effect.
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A bald headed Shoanti male did a bow in introduction. "Greetings everyone, as you have been told, I am Two Blades in the Shadows." he said, a pair of short swords resting on his hips. "I know a little bit of spell casting but that is mostly to keep friends from dying. If you are dead, there is not much that I can do but give you the rites of the departed for Desna and check your pockets for loose change." he added with a sly grin.
"As for hot weather, I can help you select wands that might help you in the long run to keep you going."
Deluge gapes at him, edging for the exit.
"You want us to infiltrate orc territory and sneak into an ancient dwarven citadel in the middle of their insane tribes? No, UNDER one of their most populous cities? That does sound suicidal."
"Er, when you put it like that... uh... as I said, you are professionals! I have faith in you!"
"Unless you have some way of disguising us as orcs?"
"Hmm... you could try that. Keeping up the disguise might be hard if you are asked to follow orc customs, or, uh... diet..."
"Krolus Tapsfoot, a Bellflower Network operative, snuck into Urglin - the smaller settlement in Varisia, not the huge city of Urgir - disguised as an orc child. So it can be done, but it is risky."
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The slender, dark-haired elf nods towards Rogar and Two Blades, "I have a number of wands available to me, one of which should address the issue you are concerned by. I am Fethril, and with The All-Seeing Eye's wisdom, we should find our way through this mission. After all, knowledge must be sought out and brought to light."
The dour thurge tries to recall what he knows...
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James sits quietly in the back and finally says "Sneak into town. Don't get killed. Sneak into Dwarf city. Don't get killed. Get stuff and get out. Don't get killed. Got it." He then turns to Fethril and says "Can you make us look like orcs? I can bash anyone that asks too many questions that way and it will be normal."
Fethril already knows quite a bit about Urglin. Kyra finds out these facts and a bit more after asking around.
He knows that the orcs in Urglin are so numerous that they are slightly less aggressively territorial than elsewhere. Even so, the lack of a ruling authority means that crime, and especially violent crime, runs rampant.
Whereas in most of Golarion, people who actually worship the Rough Beast are universally opposed for working for an entity that seeks to destroy the world, Urglin is an exception. Priests of Rovagug known as Bonecarvers keep order of a sort and act as the unofficial guards of the city. No religion has so strong a presence in Urglin as that of Rovagug, and few other faiths are tolerated, much less represented.
Five districts compose Urglin: Warmouth (with the most official buildings), Oozefront (mercantile, along the Ooze river), Bonerattle (the center of power of the Bonecarvers), Scabtown (taverns, gambling houses, and the Bloodworks arena), and Pinkskin (predominately human). The districts are divided roughly by function and by the filthy, foul-smelling Ooze River that slowly flows through the city’s center.
One last fact Fethril does not know, and neither do the intellectual types that Kyra first approaches. Instead, it is a rough and scarred half-orc who explains to the Sarenite priestess that although Pinkskin is the district most welcoming of non-orcs, it is by no means a warm welcome, and staying in that district is no guarantee of safety. Disgruntled outcasts of all stripes gravitate to Urglin and rarely hesitate to accost newcomers.
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After meeting with Venture-Captain Canayven Heidmarch, you travel through Kaer Maga up the Yondabakari River and trek across the eastern edge of the Cinderlands to arrive at the gates of Urglin.
The entire city is a mess of bone, wood, leather, and crude stone with few structures rising more than 20 feet in height. There are many tents and yurts, as well as some seemingly more robust structures.
The gates are at the southern entrance, opening into the neighborhood of Warmouth. This is Urglin's largest neighborhood, with the official buildings - the Gray Donjon, the seven Warlord Keeps, the War Tower, and the Rally Fields.
Orcs guarding the gates jeer at you in broken Common, "More pinkskins! Watch your step."
"Dwarf! Hah! Look at him. Can't afford any armor!"
They throw some scraps of leather in Rogar's general direction. "All dwarves need armor! Scared of getting hurt!"
And some wooden scraps. "For your shield! Hah!"
"Look at the elf! Ah-hahahaha! He sad because he got all dirty! Hahaha! I wanna make him into a stew!"
"Too skinny! But the fat pinkskin! Look at the fat one! The fat one!" One orc points at Deluge excitedly. "Now that's a stew."
They have somewhat less vile taunts for James and Two Blades in the Shadows, merely calling out, "Hey big man, hey Quah-man, you guys fight? You guys go Bloodworks?"
What they call out to Kyra can be guessed and need not be spelled out.
Nevertheless, the guards do not bar your passage. It is daytime, and the gates are open, and they don't blink an eye at your weapons.
What do you do?
In which neighborhood do you begin your investigation?
What information do you seek to find?
How do you present yourselves?
Although this section does call for Diplomacy or Knowledge (Local) to gather information, please give me at least some RP to work from rather than just a die roll.
Kyra's blunt curiosity finds a rough reception. A trio of orc youths gang up on her, roll her in the mud, and are chased away by a tall, lanky orc just a bit older.
The tall orc youth stands looking at Kyra with one hand out, clearly expecting some coin as reward for his chivalry.
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Rogar remains stolid at the gate and gathers anything thrown in case it is useful later.
In town he walks ahead clearly guarding. To the party "Talk where talk is needed but if you need me to bust heads to make them listen just ask."
After seeing Kyra is uninjured he doesn't chase after the kids. He keeps an eye out to see who is paying attention to us with special notice for thieves and pickpockets.
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Deluge is a bit anxious as they enter the city, and the orc 'offers' just make him more nervous. And when he is stressed he eats, well, more, which is ironic since the source of his stress is that his bulk makes him such a tempting target.
"Actually, I would prefer to just eat in, but we got to do what we got to do. Hopefully we can find the entrance to this sky citadel and get this over with soon."
Deluge contributes by taking the form of a large nasty boar that snorts threateningly at any orc that crosses the party.
Two Blades has little luck asking around, but then he recalls from the Magnimar Lodge some mention of a human trader in Urglin named Dorost.
With very little effort, he finds Dorost. The man is pushing a cart through the streets of Warmouth, piled high with leather goods. Hanging off the sides of the carts are three bloodstained horse pack saddles. On the cart itself are a selection of unusual-looking bags and belts.
The human speaks fast, with a great deal of excitement. "Hey, hey, out-of-towners! What brings you to our fair city? Quite a selection I have, and you won't find these anywhere else! Best quality!
News? You want news? What kind? Buy something and maybe I can help you."
Dorost sells an orc-skin belt to Deluge.
"Kline? Careful where you speak that name. He isn’t exactly beloved in this town. Certain folks might kill you for merely uttering it. He cost me a bundle. I’d slit his throat if I ever laid eyes on him again."
The leather merchant rolls the coins in his hand.
"But Gutter might know something. You'll find him in Oozefront. On the river. Water merchant."
The party makes their way cautiously through Warmouth, avoiding any further conflict.
The Ooze river separates Warmouth from the other districts, so Oozefront is unavoidably the next district you reach. A horrid stench permeates Oozefront, and James soon realizes why he could not locate any sewer; the locals dump waste into the river. The water is at least drinkable where it enters the city at the western wall, but by the time it reaches Pussbubble Lake in the east it is nothing but sewage and sludge.
In the western part of the city, near the bridge to Bonerattle, you spy a figure on a small barge. Hunched and pot-bellied, clad in a simple loincloth, this orc has copper jugs of water on his raft as well as an assortment of junk. He pokes at the bottom of the river with a pole and comes up a broken pot. The orc puts the pot on his barge and poles towards the shore.
The orc stares at Kyra and blinks.
He stares some more.
After a moment, he seems to understand the barest fraction of what Kyra asks.
His lips move as he repeats her Common words.
He points to himself and mumbles, "Gutter."
He points all around. "Urglin."
"Gutter in Urglin now," he says, confused. "Here in Urglin. Oozefront."
"Eando?"
His eyes show some dawning recognition...
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Deluge waddles down the street, his girth swaying enticingly as he goes, feeling the hungry eyes on him. A bit of ironic role reversal and not a pleasant one. for the first time, perhaps in his life, he wonders if he should consider a diet.
When the discussion with the barely coherent orc begins he steps forward, pointing at himself. "Deluge."
He pulls out a couple of dried squid from his goodie bag and offers them to the orc, wiggling his eyebrows as if to say, 'you are really going to like this'.
Somewhere in Magnimar, Canayven Heidmarch checks his notes and frowns.
Oh... wait... I got the files mixed up. This wasn't the group I intended for the Urglin mission; none of them speak Orc.
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Gutter takes the offered squid, chews it, and smiles.
He points to Deluge's new belt, chuckles, and says "Hah! Vlarg. Stupid Vlarg. Okay. You want know where go Urglin?"
The conversation is a bit frustrating with little progress....
Other orcs approach Gutter with carts. Largely ignoring you, they buy jugs of water from Gutter and load them onto their carts to bring them deeper into the city.
A scrawny orc woman looks you up and down. "Pinkskins. What you want? You want Gutter's water? His manspeak not so good. I help talk.
But you pinkskins think you better. You not better.
I help IF one you drink our water."
The orc woman holds out a jug. The water smells somewhat foul and has various insects floating in it... the orc woman does at least fish out and throw away the dead mouse in the water.
"Who drink? This the good water from west side."
The water tastes bad, but does not sicken Rogar.
The orc woman gives a toothy smile at the dwarf and begins to translate.
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Deluge is about to purify the drink, a simple cantrip that has often come in handy when, say, his snacks have sat in a bag in the hot sun for too long, but then holds off as the dwarf slugs it down like a tankard of ale.
"Here, if you liked that, you would probably like some of this too."
Deluge dangles a dried squid in front of the dwarfs nose.
The orc woman speaks slowly to Kyra, trying to clarify the cleric's question. She points to the water merchant.
"This Gutter. This not Kline. Kline pinkskin like you. Gutter orc."
She points back and forth between Kyra and Gutter.
"Pinkskin. Orc."
Gutter keeps chuckling at Deluge's belt, presumably noticing some mole or tattoo that identifies it as the skin of this Vlarg fellow. Gutter chews the squid some more and smiles at Deluge, his new best friend. He answers in Orc when the orc woman asks him about Kline.
"When Kline in Urglin? You not know? That six year ago."
"Where Kline go in Urglin? Many places. But he want go Urgir, great orc city. He want guide, give money for Gutter. Gutter need some days for get name for guide. Kline go Bonerattle, never come back. Gutter not need find names but keep money."
The wiry orc woman looks at the group. "You want more, you go Bonerattle. Watch out Bonecarvers. Maybe you find Masher. Bounty hunter. He smart orc and maybe not kill you."
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Over the western bridge from Oozefront lies Bonerattle, Urglin’s religious center. Here, priests of Rovagug reign supreme. Their spiderlike cathedral is a mound carved to resemble an arachnid with the spider’s mouth as the cathedral’s entrance.
Leathery structures framed with bones from aurochs, other megafauna, and the occasional humanoid form the majority of the architecture here.
About fifty yards away, four large orcs carrying greataxes walk down the street. Each one wears a fanged spider amulet the size of a dinner plate. The crowd parts to let them pass; one orc, who had been kneeling down to fix a wheel on his cart, is just a bit slower than the others to get out of the way. The priests shout something in Orc, and the laggard approaches, cringing. They shout at him, and he grovels in the dirt.
The priests turn to each other and laugh. One of them seems to shoo the unfortunate orc away. Bowing and scraping, seeming to offer his thanks, he gets to his feet. As he turns to leave, the swipe of a greataxe takes his head. The four priests walk away, laughing uproariously and kicking the head like a ball.
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"Don't even think of messing with them," growls a voice in fluent Common.
Next to you is a heavily muscled orc with a spiked club. A severed half-orc head hangs from his belt.
He points to the head hanging from his belt. "This guy did. He's making me money."
"Masher. Who are you and what are you doing here?"
His hand rests near the handle of his club, as if expecting trouble, but he does not draw it.
Masher looks at James.
"Kline was here. He met up with a priest of Rovagug, one of the Bonecarvers.
I overhead him tell the priest that he was looking for his partner, who'd swindled him and left him for dead. Kline offered to give up the partner to the Rough Beast as a sacrifice, so the Bonecarver agreed to accompany the man on his search.
They headed toward Pinkskin. That's where the partner was supposed to be. I'm looking for Kline myself. There’s a bit of coin in it for you if you let me know where he is."
"You'll like Pinkskin. Human district. Between here and Scabtown. Maybe Sheraeda will talk to you. She sees a lot. Might put up the information in a game. Dice, cards, other games too."
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Pinkskin is the smallest district. There are outcast Shoanti, roaming mercenaries, and quite a few humans who just seem to have decided that the orcs are going to take over at least this corner of the world, so better to be on the winning side.
Sheraeda is a tall, heavyset half-orc. She is in a circle, leaning over and shouting. As you get closer, it is apparent that Sheraeda and some others are betting on how far a decapitated chicken will run. Or where it will expire. Something of the sort.
The chicken collapses, and a short one-armed half-orc shouts with glee. He begins raking in a small pile of coins. Sheraeda stands up and stretches, looking vaguely annoyed at having lost.
The gambler looks at the Sarenite priestess.
"You looking to preach the word of the Dawnflower? Purity, hope, redemption, all that garbage? Wrong town, sunshine."
Sheraeda scoffs.
"What do you want?"
"Hmm... information about what? Price depends on what you wanna know."
Still, she doesn't pull out a dagger and eviscerate Deluge or Kyra on the spot. A good sign!