Broken Dawn - A Solo Tale of Osirian Succession (Inactive)

Game Master VikingIrishman

For dotting.

As you step out of your rented room into the summer sun, you pause briefly. Most days in Osirion are hot, but today is particularly ruthless. Even your elemental heritage does little to dampen the discomfort. You lean against the wall, listening to the day's gossip from the other commoners.

The main thread of discussion this morning is about the fate of High Councillor Tahponnay Monthebe. It seems that she has met with an unfortunate end, though nobody can agree on the circumstances. Some say natural causes, others suggest foul play, still others insist on suicide. Regardless of how she met her end, the Council of Sun and Sky is down a councilor and the power vacuum was already pulling in speculation. There are three main groups vying for that one spot on the council.

The Council of the Silver Fox, a traditionalist group primarily consisting of the upper class is putting forth Ames Penakhte, the former advisor to Councillor Monthebe.

The Company of the Dagger and Ring are a group of merchant princes dedicated to lessening restrictions on trade and business operations. They are putting forward Amuset Ireder, owner of the Serpent and Unicorn; one of the most successful inns in Sothis.

The Thorns of Tilly is a coalition of lower-class citizens campaigning for better treatment and civic improvements for the poor. They are presenting Hisy Akakhteb, a well-known social activist, for consideration.

The wind whips up, a welcome relief, and a bright yellow piece of parchment pinned to the announcement board catches your eye.

EXPLORERS NEEDED!
NEED MONEY?
SEEKING GLORY?
SIMPLY BORED?
INQUIRE AT THE GUILD OF HAMMER AND TOME.
BELL WARD.

Your cash reserves are beginning to run low and it might be best for you to find some gainful employment. At any rate, you've nothing better to do.

You take the announcement and make your way to the guildhall. As you enter, you see a harried receptionist dealing with an irate gnome apparently arguing about nonpayment. You've no idea how long this could go on.

Ah yes, the old quest announcement. Should have built a martial class, I knew it! Uraeus is the name of the snake

Prepared Extracts today: First level- Shield, True Strike, Disguise Self, See Alignment, Identify. Second Level: Ironskin, Alter Self, Alter Self

It has to be very hot to make an ifrit sweat but Maqej could feel perspiration on his forehead. Carefully, he wiped it away, hoping no one noticed. It ruined the effect to be an elemental but still suffer in the sun.

What do I know of the Hammer and Tome? Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

For a moment Maqej examines the slightly cooler waiting room. Just being out of the sun was something to be enjoyed. The investigator eyes both his fellow applicants and the tired looking receptionist.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Maqej looks at the line and gnome and grimaces. He is not going to wait in line. With a motion, he gestures to his feet, where a metal snake slithers. "Come, Uraeus, we have business."

Maqej boldly cuts the line and steps in front of the gnome.

Intimidate to gnome: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

"Stand aside, gnome. Others have business here this day." Maqej says brusquely, not even deigning to look down. The snake hisses slightly, scales rattles quietly.

Maqej turns his bright eyes on the receptionist. 'I am here about the need for explorers?"

The Guild of Hammer and Tome is something of an adventurers' guild. They aren't nearly as widespread as the Pathfinders, and their goals are a bit baser; less knowledge, more cash. Still, a handful of local adventurers got their start here.

As Maqej scans the room, he notes that the people arrayed here seem quite capable. Those who aren't embroiled in telling some tale of their exploits (likely in hyperbole) are downing drinks with more than the usual amount of gusto.

The gnome, having just been rudely turned aside, begins to say something, but stops short at the sight of Uraeus. He stomps his foot petulantly and whirls around, leaving in a huff while calling over his shoulder.

"You'll regret this, firedrop."

Maqej gains 1 point of Enmity

The receptionist, though relieved, looks concerned.

"Ammisar knows how to hold a grudge. You may one day regret that. At any rate, I assume you're here because of one of our flyers. If you would wait in the common area, I'll send an auditor over at their earliest convenience."

She smiles politely, but it's quite obvious that she's just trying to process you out of her line. You get the feeling that she deals with more than her fair share of personalities on a daily basis.

How does the enmity system work?

The ifrit lets the gnome go, despite the insult. A flare of anger rises but it ruthlessly quashed by his will. No, not now.

Turning, Maqej considers the receptionist, his intellect whirring.What were his options to get special treatment in a place lacking such?

Flattery and negotiation? Perhaps but surely she heard such all day, words alone would little sway her.

Threatening? No, this was her place of power, not his.

Aahm, bribery then...

Maqej smiles, the motion coming easily to his mobile face. "Or perhaps you can get an auditor right now. I am a little short of money right now.." he pulls out three silver coins, "But once I get a job, I plan on repaying those who helped me?" He leaves the coins on her side of the counter.

Not sure if it is a Bluff because Maqej fully intends to give her a cut of what he earns. A tiny one, but he won't say that.

Enmity is basically a background system I use to determine if it's appropriate for me to make bad things happen to your character. Kind of like Hero Points, but for me as a GM, not for any particular character. It helps with the verisimilitude of the world for even your minor actions to have consequences. ^_^

Also, you're telling the truth here, so Diplomacy would be the check to make. I'd roll for you to speed things up, but you've seen how I roll. Unless you're fine with that for the sake of advancing the plot.

Dilomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14

Always feel free to roll for me DM. Keeping the game moving is most important!

The receptionist holds her smile.

"I appreciate that, but all of our auditors are currently engaged. Please, take a seat, have a drink if you'd like, and someone will be with you shortly."

The professionalism displayed by this woman is astounding. You feel like she'd politely rebuff a physical assault.

The ifrit silently fumes. How dare she...make him wait in line, like some other down-on-his-luck sword swinger? It was intolerable...

Even as he stood there faced with her fixed smile, his mind whirred to life, considering plans and revenge.

Would Maqej know what any of the management or officials of the Hammer and Tome look like?

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

Also, you should put your stat block in your profile so I don't have to dig through the discussion post to find it.

You know that, while there are leaders, it's more of a freeform organization. People come and go at their leisure. Even the heads of the 'organization' don't tend to stick around for long and nobody wears any kind of distinctive clothing.

Even so, you've met Menefer Khebeky personally on a few occasions and could identify her by sight. Sadly, she is not currently in the common room.

Tonight I'll make up the stat bar.

Maqej rolls his lips in a dismissive sneer. "I believe you just lost a very useful applicant." Snapping his fingers to Uraeus, the ifrit stalks out of the waiting room, head held high, back straight.

Outside in the searing heat he calms again, shedding the cloak of irritation just as easily as he donned the mask of geniality.

The Ifrit finds small alcove or corner to temporarily be out of sight of the passing crowds. There he pulls out a small necklace, covered with glittering bits of metal. Inside it, it was imbued with the spell Alter Self.

Quickly, he places it around his neck. Instantly it warms on his flesh and he transforms into the image of Menefer Khenbeky.

How much do I know about this woman? I mean just the basics, nice, mean, arrogant, genial?

All that 'necklace' stuff was mere doing a gadget for a Alter Self spell. Flavoring some spells as actual objects is a bit tough, bear with me!

Don't sweat it. As long as it's just vanity, flavor however you'd like.

As far as Menefer, you know that she's sarcastic and quick-tempered, and very sure of her own intelligence, but generally a Good-leaning person who cares about her companions.

Maqej hurries, knowing he only has a few minutes. He commands Uraeus to stay behind, finding some safe crack or hollow to wait.

Knowledge Local to use right 'terms' and vocabulary: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13

The ifrit now strides through the door as if he owns it, eyes roving over the reception area. He tries to place himself in the mindset of Menefer Khebeky.

Without a pause he walks past the line to the receptionist saying, crisply, 'An unused room and whichever auditor is on duty. Private business."

Bluff: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

Maqej gesture impatiently, expecting to be guided to an empty side room.

I assume not knowing where the room is can be covered because Menefer might not know which are in use right now.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

The receptionist looks up in shock.

"Miss Khebeky! I thought you were up north! Umm...let's see...Elbion is auditing a recruit that I don't think has much promise in the Ankh Room. I'm sure he'd be willing to cut the audit short for you. Head on back."

She indicates down a hallway. Symbols are visible above each of the doors. It shouldn't be too hard to find an ankh.

Maqej nods and heads down the hallway. Knowing his time is running out he finds the Ankh room and throws the door open letting it bang against the wall. He quickly takes stock of whoever is inside.

Inside is a fairly small room hosting a table and six chairs. On the near side of the table is a young boy, fallen out of his chair in his panic. On the far side is a male elf, his sword halfway out of its sheath.

The elf pauses, confused, and resheathes his blade.

"Milady! What is the matter?"

Maqej smiles and waves a hand in a commanding fashion to the young boy. "Be off. I have business with Elbion. You'll get another turn." He points to the open door behind him and closes it after him.

Assuming he leaves?

Maqej walks over, and sits across from Elbion. Remaining at ease he puts a finger to his lips and smiles if the elf says anything. He does indicate the auditor should wait in his chair on his side of the desk.

The boy, clearly heartbroken, stands and hangs his head.

"Yes milady."

He turns to Elbion.

"Thank you for your time, ser."

He turns and shuffles out, closing the door gently behind him.

Elbion cocks his head inquisitively, concern on his face. He sits in his chair and leans forward.

"We weren't expecting you, milady. Has something happened at the shrine?"

Maqej simply purses his lips, clearly asking for silence. After the moment of anticipation and tension stretched to the point of breaking, Maqej nodded and let the illusion dissolve away. Again, he was Maqej the ifrit, dressed in his usual somber colors.

"I wish to interview for the explorer work. I believe the disguise proves that I am competent and willing enough?" The ifrit smiles, 'The willingness to wait in line is surely not a strength?'

Diplomacy, Let's hope they don't arrest me: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 31

Elbion's mouth gapes briefly before curling into an astonished smile. He laughs and buries his face in his hand. He rubs his face and looks at Maqej, shaking his head.

"You are either too bold for your own good or too foolish for everyone else's. What's you name, fireblood?"

Maqej lets out an internal sigh. He had truly worried he had crossed a line there.

"My name is Maqej of Sothis, a user of both magic and technology." The ifrit inclines his head respectfully, "I am answering your advertisements because I know you are an accomplished and trustworthy operation."

A short pause then, "Please do give that young boy another chance after we are finished, I did not mean to humiliate him."

After whatever answer comes he says, "What sort of jobs do you have available?"

"Well, Maqej, how good are you at solving mysteries? We've received a request to recover a tablet detailing an ancient royal line held in the Tomb of Rasatjia. Thing is, those tombs have been thoroughly picked clean. If there are secret rooms, nobody has yet found them."

Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20
Knowledge History: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Knowledge Nobility: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27

What does Maqej know?

For a second Maqej pauses, taking this in. His mind spins to life, trying to recall anything he knows of the place, its history and the family.

Local: The Tomb of Rasatjia was discovered around three hundred years ago by a foreign explorer. Since then, it's become something of a tourist trap. Those willing to brave the two-day journey through the desert to reach the tomb have been met with a tomb stripped bare, though the sarcophagus containing Rasatjia's body has never been discovered.

Nobility: Rasatjia was an ancient pharaoh's daughter who lived roughly 2500 years ago. She was said to have been exceptionally promiscuous and survived no less than five husbands. She bore several children, both legitimate and illegitimate, many of whose bloodlines may continue to this day.

The ifrit grins, "A mysterious temple that refused all comers for three hundred years? Is that the best you have?"

He grows serious then, "Have you sent anyone else recently? Any news on it to report?" a short pause then, "Have anyone else in mind to go with me? Always explore with a buddy, they say."

"No, we've only just received the request this morning. As far as companions go, ask around the common room. I'm sure there are a few people who'd be willing to join you for the right price."

He smiles at you.

"Solve this, and you'll be painting yourself some pretty high expectations."

Maqej nods, "That is one of the reason I am here, but you mention cost. What does the job pay? It is a few days hike into the high desert, a few days rooting around and a few days back. Not exactly a quick stroll you know. Do I get some cash upfront to cover some expenses?"

Maqej hates that he asked that last question, it made him seem weak, but he didn't know much about this adventuring business.

Elbion smiles at that.

"A smart young man. The client is offering one hundred pieces of platinum to whoever returns with the tablet. That payment is conditional, but the guild can offer you a loan for a small percentage if you'd like."

The ifrit ponders this, saying out loud, "And I suppose a fair split with whoever I take." he nods and holds out his hand, the skin (as usual) warmer then a humans.

"I'll take the job. You'll have your tablet before you know it. And yes, I will take that small loan, I'm a bit light in the purse." he smiles, "Can't go crawling around old tombs without the right tools."

Elbion shakes Maqej's hand and nods.

"I'll talk to Malia about putting together that loan for you. I'll meet you in the common room once I've procured it."

With that, Elbion leaves the room.

Maqej looks around if there is anything of interest. Unlikely if he could leave an unknown man like himself here.

Appraise, Free Inspiration: 1d20 + 8 + 1d6 ⇒ (20) + 8 + (2) = 30

Assuming not for reasons above

Then Maqej retraces his steps back out into the waiting room, and looks at the collection of hopeful applicants, scanning with his fiery eyes. The ifrit looks for a big muscular type, good with a sword but not overly clever. A good front man if things came to blows.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

What is his selection?

Bigger just means imposing, obviously I don't expect (or want) anyone higher level then me!

Correct. Nothing of note in this room unless you want to start dismantling the furniture.

As Maqej scans the common room, he sees a lot of people. Only three really stand out though, and none of them fit the beefcake archetype. A male half-elf in a long duster and wide-brimmed hat sits at the bar sipping at a mug while reading a book; a female human in striking white robes sits at a table along the wall, politely rebuffing would-be suitors; a halfling male, only conspicuous because of how inconspicuous he seems, leans against the wall near the hearth, flipping a coin and watching the crowd.

Feel free to interact with the NPCs or not, as you choose. For complexity reasons, you are allowed to select up to two companions to accompany you. I'm sure the larger split of the cash doesn't hurt either.

Just so I know you GM style, if I went out and starting recruiting from local gangs, would you allow it (with the high chance one would just club and rob me) or do you have big plots in mind? Also, no barbarians? Bah, why even play Pathfinder?

What book is the half-elf reading? Does the woman in white robes have any obviously holy symbol? Sorry to go on Sherlock here, but they are valid questions?

You're welcome to start recruiting thugs, but there's a reason they've chosen to shake people down in the city rather than join an adventurers' guild. I mean, adventurers' guilds have a huge turnover rate and they have to be almost singlehandedly responsible for an astonishingly low unemployment rate. If you can't be bothered to stab kobolds for a living, what kind of person are you? There's barbarians later, though. ^_^

No, please, get as detailed as you like with your inquiries. If you aren't specific I'm just going to give surface evaluations. You can't tell what book the half-elf is reading from here, but the woman in the robes bears a holy symbol of Ptah.

Maqej smiles at spotting the woman and quickly leaves the building, giving the receptionist a self-satisfied smirk.

Outside he quickly finds Uraeus and instructs the snake follow. The ifrit quickly re-enters and heads right tot he human woman.

"Greetings." Maqej says politely, "I am Maqej. I see you worship the goddess of creation and artifice. As you can see I have some of that bent myself." He waves at the delicately made metal snake winding about his feet.

'What is your name and what brings you to this place?" he says, inclining his head respectfully. 'Looking for work perhaps?"

The woman begins to wave you off before realizing that you haven't actually made a pass at her.

"That's quite the snake you have there. My name is Sobeky Nanefer, and I'm not so much looking for work as I am looking for adventure. And who might you be, flamekin?"

Maqej silently grits his teeth. How many insulting names for my kind do these people have?

"As I said, I am Maqej. I have been contracted by this House to search the tomb of Rasatjia. I am looking for companions for this task. Do you think you are equal to the challenge, Sobeky Nanefer?" The ifirt looks the woman up and down, not romantically but with an eye for her skills and equipment.

How do I ask for class? Also, can I see what book the half-elf is reading from here?

You can see that underneath her robes, her body is well-muscled. She's no stranger to physicality.

"Rasatjia? Hasn't that tomb been emptied a hundred times over?"

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

The Half-Elf is reading a book called 'Riddles of the Tombs'.

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28

You know the book to have been written by an extremely well-respected linguist who spent her years studying the interconnections between Ancient Osirian, Thalassian, Azlant, and Cyclops langauges. This is a serious book about hidden meanings in riddles and prophecies discovered in the tombs.

Maqej smiles, "Apparently some things are missing from the manifest. I am going to find them. You say you speak of adventure, I can provide that and perhaps more in the future."

His fiery eyes glow in the dim interior of the waiting room, "Life with me will not be boring but it will be profitable, and not just in gold."

I am a smart guy, would I know any of the riddles from the book?

Fate: 1d20 ⇒ 19
Fate: 1d20 ⇒ 13

You've read the book before and you remember some of the theory behind alternative interpretations of at least one of the riddles.

Sobeky chuckles.

"Why not? It's not as if I'm doing anything here other than fending off fools with more bravado than sense. When do we leave? I need to collect my gear."

Is there something I can say that will impress the half-elf with my intelligence and relate to his text? You know, ego boosting ice breaker

"We leave at dusk, should be cooler by then anyway. I hope to have another with us, three should be enough. Polish your sword, we may need it." He bows his head, gestures to his construct to follow and approaches the reading half-elf.

Sobeky nods before gathering her things and heading out the door.

Knowledge (history): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26

You approach the half-elf and ask him if he's figured out that the Osirian Owl represents both wisdom and trapmaking. He looks up at you and smirks.

"Actually, it translates more accurately as 'ambushing', but close enough. You know your riddle theory. Sit. Have a drink with me."

He pats the seat next to him.

'I know many things."

Maqej doesn't sit, but remains standing. Instead he goes on, "What is your interest in riddles?"

He eyes the book, wondering just what sort of man this half-elf was.

Does he have any obvious weapons, gear?

How accurate is the avatar?

The avatar is semi-accurate. He's wearing a heavy leather duster and a hat reminiscent of a fedora. No obvious gear outside that.

Lurodir scoffs.

"I find that understanding intent makes it a hell of a lot easier to get in and out of old places that nobody is supposed to get into or out of. Also, I may or may not teach history to disadvantaged children."

Maqej fixes the man with his eyes. Did he need another 'clever sort' on this job? He needed muscle not brains. Still...not all of his subordinates could be idiots.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26

trustworthy or grifter? Do I feel safe heading into the desert with this man and sleeping near him?

"My name is Maqej. I am recruiting for a journey into just such an old place. Interested in investigating the tomb of Rasatjia?"

I so do not need a wise-cracking rouge

You don't get the sense that he's the "slit your throat" kind of guy. He seems less the wise-cracking rogue and more the smug history buff.

Lurodir's eyes light up.

"Rasatjia? Have you got a lead on the hidden chambers? I mean, there's clearly hidden chambers, just nobody's figured out how to open them."

He cocks his head to the side.

"Even if you don't have a lead, you're a fresh set of eyes. Maybe you'll see something the others didn't. I'm in. Lurodir Denaeli."

He stands up and holds out his hand. As he does, his duster falls open and you can see the gleaming metal of a gun at his hip.