Batpony 8-05 table 2 (Inactive)

Game Master Batpony

A call was sent out to the pathfinders, the details were vague, but one of particularly high profile mission, the Master of Spells is sending pathfinders to explore an elemental plane.

The courtyard outside of Sorrina Westyr’s office is a tribute to the element of earth. Large, dark boulders jut from a carpet of smooth pebbles. Wildflowers and moss spring from the cracks between the stones. The Master of Spells’ slategray skin seems to blend into the rock she lounges on in the sun-dappled courtyard, her face upturned to the cloudless sky. Sorrina stretches luxuriously before turning to smile.

"Enjoy the open air while you can, Pathfinders,” she says. “You are to be among the first agents sponsored to explore the planes—the Plane of Earth, to be exact. Reyshal ik Jalman, the Society’s contact on the Plane of Earth, recently alerted us to a rare opportunity. The Sultana’s constant war with the City of Brass means the shaitan empire needs more soldiers, and they have begun recruiting off-world mercenaries to train alongside their military. That’s where you come in.”

An ifrit strides into the room at his leisure, clad in the ceremonial robes of distant Tian Xia. His skin, like most of his kind, resembles heated brass, and his hair appears to flicker and dance with fire. He tucks a book into his backpack to listen to the Master's speech, at the end of which he cannot keep a hint of nervousness from his chuckle. "How rigorous was the selection process, exactly? I'm not sure how qualified I am, at least, to train with shaitans to fight in battles of the extraplanar scale. If you think we are the ones for the job, I'll do it, though. I have confidence in your judgement and abilities."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Bailey, although my wanted poster back in Minata says Blazing Bailey. Has a nice ring to it, actually. I am possessed of the ability to grant wishes, like the maliks of legend."

A sturdy-looking Ulfen man looks up sharply as Bailey enters the courtyard. An ifrit...well, I guess the Pathfinders really do attract even the most rare and powerful beings to their ranks. Giving Bailey a nod, the man--who has a bastard sword strapped to his back and a tall, hooked polearm in one hand, but wears no armor--says to the Master of Spells, "My name's Viorec, called the Goldhand by some of my...former acquaintances." He grimaces. "I've got plenty of experience soldiering, so this isn't a complete surprise...but how much combat are we expected to see, exactly? And with what foes? Or is our job just to help train the shaitan?"

A stiff looking sylph floats into the room.

"Oh... the plane of earth... maybe I shouldn't have volunteered for this one" she sighs.

She offers a quick curtsey to the group "Vagantem Aere... at your service."

She moves with the grace of a trained swordsman, but at her side there are are pair of Kukri rather than the more traditional sword one might expect.

A little bit sneaky, she smirks and replies. “Your job lies mostly with attracting the trust of the Ungrounded. Completing your basic training should be enough to attract the interest of powerful allies in the Opaline Vault, not to mention ingratiating the Society with the Ungrounded. You need not make a long-term commitment to the company after that—unless, of course, that’s what you desire. I cannot imagine combat outside of this, unless you look for your own trouble.” Westyr pauses to brush a fallen leaf from her hair. “I’ll contact Reyshal as soon as you’re ready, where are the rest?"[/b] She seems a little annoyed.

Kn checks.

"Pleased to meet you, Vagantem," Viorec says. "I hope you won't have any trouble where we're going...but the biology of outsiders is not my specialty." He snorts.

Knowledge (Planes) untrained: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6

The wizard scratches his head. "So, anyone else know anything about this 'Opaline Vault?' The army didn't really consider it essential to battlecaster basic."

"And good day to you Goldhand. I really don't know anything about the Vault, but if comes to fitting in with a mercenary crew, I can help keep our group competent."

Knowledge (planes): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

"It's not my preferred plane, but I've read a fair bit about it," Bailey grins. "It's basically a huge cave system with a bunch if tunnels. There are a few natural hazards to being underground, plus it shares a border with the Plane of Fire, but hopefully neither should be a problem. There are many interesting types of earthen and crystal beings, maybe we'll be lucky enough to meet some. Now, the Vault itself, otherwise know as the Rainbow Metropolis, is a massive planar hub for all sorts of people. The current ruler is Sultana Ashadieeyah bint Khalid, She Whose Name I Have Butchered or whatever. She seems a fair sort, has a nice palace made of gems and everything."

"Trouble may find us. It has its way of finding me. If it does find me it will wish it never crossed my path. I made those who crossed me sorry. They probably still haven't eaten to this day.". Savron exclaims with a blank, but evil looking expression on his face.

"I am Savron Gloomnar. This here is my scorpion." Savron points to the tiny green scorpion scurrying and climbing about his person.""He does not have a name. I suggest staying away from his stinger. "

Hmm, I wasn't exactly trained in any of this type of thing either. Planar travel isn't my thing. Haldoc pauses a moment. However, direct me to a task and I shall complete it to the best of my ability, though my abilities lend more to combat than anything else.

"Well, fella, fighting seems like it'd fight right in there with whatever 'basic training' this Sultana wants us to complete," Viorec says with a grin. "So you're probably fine. Don't worry, we war-like types can watch out for each other."

"Uh, I dunno about you, Savron. Whatever you say, I guess."

Turning back to Bailey, he asks, "Anything in particular I should prep for, in terms of danger? You mentioned natural hazards...?"

"Well, from what I know the most common hazards are cave-ins and pockets of poisonous gas. Also, there'll likely be some molten rock where it's close to the Plane of Fire. As for how best to prepare for such things, I would suggest either making extra copies of one's last will and testament or just staying away from dubious-seeming areas." Bailey grins once again, only faltering when he sees no one follow suit. "I don't see any massive problems arising. It's not as if we'll be 'porting straight into the City of Brass. As long as we work hard, we should be fine. Right?"

As you continue to converse, Sorrina Westyr uses some amethyst and copper wire from her pocket to presumably cast a spell.

“Well met, Trail Seekers,” he grins wryly as Sorrina frowns in irritation. “Of course, I mean Pathfinders. Just a jest between friends.” The shaitan steps forward and inclines his head in a shallow version of the bow he just performed for Sorrina.

“I am Reyshal ik Jalman, humble servant of Her Radiance, Ashadieeyah bint Khalid, and sworn ally to the steadfast Master of Spells. Today I am honored to escort you to the Opaline Vault, the glorious home of my ancestors. I hope that together we can cement the bonds between our peoples, dear Pathfinders. But first, please, introduce yourselves to me!”

The sylph steps forward, hands on her hips.

"I am Vagantem Aere. Warrior, Pathfinder and mistress of blades. In my spare time, I also like to cook."

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Viorec watches the spell carefully. Damn. Don't know that one...wonder what that--WHOA! Ok, it probably had something to do with that.

After Vagantem introduces herself, Viorec chuckles. "I'm Viorec Goldhand. Pathfinder, as of recently. Wizard. Erstwhile soldier. I like long walks on the beach...no, just kidding." He steps forward and extends his hand. "Well met, Reyshal ik Jalman."

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17

Bailey starts slightly at the incredible effect, hoping one day he can do such a thing with such ease. He returns the bow to Reyshal, not yet trusting his hand with a stranger so massive. "Well met! I am Bailey, conduit of elemental and genie magic. I hope this venture bears fruit as we believe it will, for the sake of heightened relations and furthered knowledge."

Vagantam and Viorec are well received by the Djinni and he continues by asking a few more questions about your homes and upbringing. Bailey is also received in the same polite manner, but he almost immediately turns to the others in the room. "What about the rest of you then?"

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

"I am Savron Gloomnar. I am your Witch for this mission. I guess it's not everyday you hear that." Savron cracks half a smile.

"Spells, hexes and such things are my fancy. Although they are intended only for those who dare cross me, or my fellow Pathfinders. I also have my little green scorpion here. Although he does not like names. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Rolvark joins the briefing late and was initially alarmed to hear that they were essentially joining a war. He is comforted by the fact that the Pathfinder didn't require them to make any long-term commitments. He is excited however, at the prospect of seeing a different plane of existence

From the frozen north, to the bustling city of Absalom...and now to a whole new plane! What other wonders exist out there just waiting for me to discover!

Rolvark quickly greets each of his pathfinder companions, and when Reyshal emerges and introduces himself, is slightly taken aback at the sight of the man. He looks...impressive

However, Rolvark gathers himself and bows to the shaitan "Greetings Reyshal. My name is Rolvark, and I'm but a humble member of the Pathfinder Society at your service."

He greets the rest of the party in a similar cheerful manner, asking a bit more about their history. After a while, he invites all of you to stand in a circle and join hands. He starts to cast a spell and each of you start feeling a distinct feeling of vertigo and an unpleasant but some what painless sensation in your stomachs.

A spinning tunnel of shimmering crystals gives way to the inside of an immense geode, a cavern so vast that the walls and ceiling appear as a distant night sky. Multicolored twinkling lights hang in the air like stars, painting shifting auroras across the geode’s walls. At the heart of the city, radiant spires of gold and platinum emerge from a churning lake of liquefied gemstones, connected by soaring bridges. “Welcome to the Rainbow Metropolis,” Reyshal whispers.

You've materialized quite far from the city, from here you will start to take an approximate 2 hour walk before reaching the city.

"Will you be bringing us to the city, and making introductions?" asks Vagantem.

"Or are we to make our own way there? Having never been here, on this plane even, before, I hope we won't get lost..."

Reyshal lets off a light hearted chuckle. "Fear not, Reyshal shall lead you until the Ungrounded. Although the path is not a very hard one." He says as he starts to lead you through your long walk.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

Bailey continues to marvel at the magical power and wondrous locales, but takes it in stride. He does, however, scribble furiously on a scrap of paper as he walks, and chuckles at Reyshal's response. "Last time I heard that was en route to my Confirmation, from our mentor. She was nearly eaten by wolves before we even reached our destination. This promises to be much more fun."

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

Viorec's eyes widen at the sight of the city. "Magnificent..." he whispers. And so much powerful magic...clearly there's a lot that the generals didn't feel would be "cost-effective" to teach us, eh?

Viorec keeps pace with the group easily as they walk, keeping his fauchard nestled in the crook of his shoulder to avoid it dragging or banging on the ground. "Ha! And here I'd heard that Confirmations were supposed to be straightforward things. Sounds exciting..."

As they proceed toward the city, he occasionally stops to scan interesting crystals with detect magic.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

"Lets hope there will be no more holding hands. I will admit this place is mesmerizing to look at.". Savron has a look of amazement on his face as the Pathfinders trek to the city.

Map link is updated at the top. Appreciate if you could take the time to input your perception and initiative modifiers there.

As you approach the metropolis, Reyshal excitedly points out locations of interest, including the Peerless Embassy, which hosts diplomats from all over the multiverse, and the Slab, a mile- long barracks that hosts the largest portion of the Sultana’s shaitan army. The city itself looks to be broken into four sections, distinctly different in colour and design, one to represent each of the main elements.

As far as Viorec's detect magic is concern, he finds nothing of great interest.

Finally, the group arrives in the Outer District, a bustling area characterized by crowded streets, shabby domiciles, and buildings sporting the ags of various nations and organizations, some recognizable of which you recognize as indigenous to the Material Plane. The permanent residents of this district are merchants and slaves, as well as their families. Reyshal explains that many off-world organizations conduct business and diplomatic missions here, all seeking the pashas’ favor.

Spoiler is regarding Aspis, so add any boon modifiers regarding Aspis if you have any.

You are led through covered passageways, a heavy wooden door opens to reveal an immaculate office barely large enough to house the writing desk and bookshelf within. The unpainted stone walls are devoid of windows or decoration. A stern, middle-aged human woman with darkly tanned skin and close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair sits in a rigid pose behind the desk as she studies an open ledger. She lifts her chin and glares at the open door.

Reyshal produces a paper-thin, intricately chiseled stone tablet and hands it to the woman. The woman studies it for several minutes, pausing occasionally to frown at the group. The woman is known around here as Captain Othis.

Captain Othis stands and thanks Reyshal with a servile bow, promising to take the Pathfinders under her wing and begin their accelerated training program. Once Reyshal exits the office, Captain Othis crushes the tablet with her bare hands, shattering it into dozens of pieces.

dozens of pieces. “So, you think you have what it takes to be Ungrounded?” the captain bellows, circling the PCs combatively. “I’ll be the judge of that. You look softer than night soil to me. Your friends in high places won’t help you when you’re down in the trenches, or when there’s an efreeti scimitar at your throat. Now, get out of my sight. Your trials start tomorrow. Dinner is at six o’clock sharp. If you’re late, you can starve.”

A nervous Oread warrior waits for you at the office door, flinching as Captain Othis barks orders at him to take the “fresh meat” to the “meatlocker.

The captain doesn't wait around for questions, the warrior at the door is willing to show you around the barracks if you need to, and shortly before 6 o'clock will take you directly to dinner.

Viorec continues looking around himself with interest as the group makes its way to the Ungrounded's chambers. When Captain Othis gives them their dressing-down, his eyebrow quirks, but he keeps his face carefully blank, otherwise. After she leaves, he actually lets out a brief chuckle.

"Well, good to know that drill sergeants and basic captains are about the same everywhere!" he comments. Turning to the oread, he says, "What's your name, fellow? I'll leave my bag and weapons in your barracks, if that's the protocol!"

Bailey flinches slightly at the shattering of the tablet and at the mention of efreeti, but otherwise makes no move whatsoever. "I'd like to rescind my thoughts about this being fun," his voice whispers in the ears of his companions via message. "Should it come to a fight or difficult situation, just make a wish. I will try my best to fulfill it."

Vagantem smile sat the Ored.

"The captain get out of bed on the wrong side this morning? Or is this a good day for her?" she asks happily.

"Lead on to the barracks. This is just like being back in the Militia. Though hopefully with better pay."

To Bailey she asks "Are there some wishes you are better at granting than others?"

The Oread speaks with a soft quivering voice. "D..De..Dell Darkblade sir, ah..yes.. we all share the same barracks. She's really always like that.." He shows you the way to your bunks shortly after. The beds are placed in a long dull hall. With no privacy for anyone. The beds you find are in a messy state. "The captain's not going to like this." The Oread whimpers as he sees the state of the room.

"Seems the captain woke up on the wrong side of the bed.". Savron looks around at the state of the room."Is everything going to be this messy?" Savrons scorpion walks on the floor and looks around.

This is going to be a rollicking good time, I can see that already!

Haldoc not Xavian for this campaign :P.

With a sigh, Vagantem strips her bed completely, checking it for anything else that may have been removed or 'inadvertently' added. She then makes it as neatly as possible.

"Just like in the militia. Watch out for icy showers, crap food and 2am moonlit walks through the river. All part of breaking our spirit and having us fit in with the rest" she says with a distressingly cheerful voice.

Of course this could get old pretty fast. There is a reason I'm not in the militia any more.

"Well, such wishes must contain an effect my innate magic is capable of," Bailey responds to Vagantem. "But, like those of the more powerful genies, they can be more versatile the better or more simply they are worded. For instance, a simple request for aid in winning a fight would allow me use of much of my arsenal." As he uses prestidigitation to tidy his bed, he describes the individual effects he can produce.

My 1st-level spells are Ray of Enfeeblement, Color Spray, and Charm Person. Making a wish isn't an action for you, although each individual can only do so once per day. It increases my CL by 1, so it is less useful for such spells as Color Spray, but it also makes me not need verbal components.

Rolvark stares in wide eye wonder when the party first arrives at the Rainbow metropolis. As Reyshal points out the various landmarks, Rolvark does his best to absorb it all in, constantly looking around to take note of all the strange and new sights and sounds.

He chooses to keep mum as Captain Othis shouts and dismisses the party, only chuckling and muttering softly once the group is safely out of Captain Othis's earshot "Now I remember why I never joined the army...any more yelling and I would go deaf"

He sighs at the sight of the messy barracks room Is discipline really that bad? and quietly makes up his own bed before stowing away his non essential items, while listening in with interest at Bailey's explanation to Vagantem "Interesting...I'll be sure to keep that in mind"

At 6 o’clock, an enticing dinner of roast meat and potatoes is served in the mess hall. A group of seasoned mercenaries accost the PCs as they attempt to join the serving line. Lieutenant Larssok (a male half-orc) explains that the Ungrounded have a tradition: new recruits have to entertain the rest of the companany on the first night! “If you won’t party with us, you won’t fight with us.” he explains.

"So, who's it gonna be? You a funny guy, fire breath? What about the air-head?"

Profession (Soldier) if needed: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Viorec tidies his bunk quickly, though he doesn't really seem to be paying attention, instead taking in his surroundings. When the group is accosted in the mess hall, he clears his throat disdainfully, looking away from the Lieutenant.

Not much for social skills...:P

Hmm, that was weird. Haldoc should have been selected by default...

The airhead takes out her knives.

"The air-head likes dancing with knives. Care to come and dance with me, Lieutenant?" she offers, drawing a circle in the middle of the room with her foot.

intimidate: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (7) - 1 = 6

A round of "Boos" are being thrown around until someone steps up to the plate to perform. The lieutenant continues to push the new recruits for a performance. "Well then! I'll play along, how does one dance with knifes?"

Everyone is expected to perform, and the lieutenant continues to harass you until you do so. the scenario calls for a perform check, but any other skill check is fine as long as you can justify it. If you are absolutely sure you want to abstain from performing, do make it clear.

Entertainment? Haldoc tries to determine what talent he could possibly have that could be considered entertainment. How about a competition? I shall arm-wrestle any of you who dares to challenge me. The loser must then chug a full mug of ale immediately after defeat. You may challenge me as much as you like.

With a 20 strength I can't think of much else to do but this could be fun.

"I like to think I'm a funny guy," Bailey responds lightly. "The people in the town I burned down didn't think so, but then again, I didn't have a good first impression of them either. Here, allow me to regale you with the song I played them as they died."

Perform (wind), Inner Beauty: 1d20 + 5 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 5 + 4 = 11

"I am not an entertainer, but I have an idea. The first one of you who gets drunk and passes out will wake up with my scorpion in your bed. Then when you wake up we will have some laughs."Savron looks around with an evil smile.

Rolvark takes several swigs of ale before being sufficiently tipsy enough to burst into a popular drinking song back in his hometown

"You can bugger the bear, if you do it with care,
in the winter, when he is asleep in his lair,
Though I would not advise it in spring or in fall--
but the hedgehog can never be buggered at all."

The Hedgehog Can Never Be Buggered At All from the Discworld novels by Terry Pratchett. Great stuff. There's like 18 more verses of pure nonsense.

perform: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (8) - 2 = 6

Unfortunately, the ale goes straight to his head and he crashes into several other guardsmen and spills ale all over them as well

Vagantem sighs.

"Well, dancing with knives is a figure of speech. I perform best in the kitchen. Show me some raw incrediants and I'll cook a meal you'll all remember for a long time."

profession(cook): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21

"Each meal is work of art."

The room is overfilled with hackles for Rolvark and Bailey, much to their disappointment about their attempted performance. The Lieutenant on the other hand, resolutely pats the both of them for their effort. "Welcome to the ungrounded chums!"

Vagantem retursn from the kitchen shortly after and delivers a bountiful meal of wild boars! The crowd erupts with cheers and praises and everybody offers to buy a round of ale for the Sylph.

Two oreads from the crowd gladly accept the challenges of Haldoc and Savron! Hoping to show their strength in might and drink to a bunch of newbies.

CMB and Constitution checks respectively please!

CMB: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

Haldoc braces himself pretty well, hoping to overpower his opponent with sheer strength.

"Hmpf. Very well, I suppose I can display...something." Viorec says with a sigh. "Here, this ought to go over well. Hold this." Picking up a serving tray, he passes it to a willing volunteer. "You may be wondering how I got my nickname! Viorec Goldfist. Well, the answer is..."

Breaking off suddenly, he mutters a word to himself and twists one hand over the other in a deft motion. Suddenly his right hand seems to be a hunk of golden colored stone, grinding and rasping like moving rock as he flexes it. He lunges at the tray. "Hyaaaaaah!"

Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4 Perfect. :P

Humiliatingly, he misses the tray entirely. "What! Come on, man, hold it still! Don't act like a frightened little goblin, I won't hurt you. Now..." Not trying to be flashy this time, he lines up his shot (full-round action) and strikes.

Damage: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

*Crunch!* "And that's how we do it in Molthune!"

Going to move us right to the real deal now!

Mikey, a big bellied oread, accepts Haldoc's challenge, but soon enough he realises he is no match for Haldoc, and is crushed! The crowd erupts in more cheers and laughter at the fun and games. But Soon everything turns sour as Viorec's performance is lacklustre, and people start leaving the mess hall. No claps for Viorec. After a performance like that, everyone soon forgets that Savron still waits in the hall for a challenger.

As the night dies down, you're immediately ushered back to your bedrooms for a good nights rest after a long day, anticipating an even longer one tomorrow.

Somewhere around midnight, Captain Othis barges into the room banging a soup landle against a metal pot. *CLANG* *CLANG* *CLANG*. The noise continues until you wake up.