DM Carbide's Through a Cracked Mirror: A Short Watch (Inactive)

Game Master John Woodford

"These will help knit your wounds, and they have some potency behind them." He hands one to Conner then one to Drovic.

Cure Mod Wounds

Thanks again, friend. We should probably check in on our charge, but silently. Drovic, care to investigate with our translator?

Drovic and Besmarial make their way to the hut. At first the elf can't hear anything inside, but then he catches a snatch of whispered conversation. Besmarial is able to translate--"It's almost dawn. Think they're gone?" "I don't know. It's been hours since the fighting stopped. At least the baby slept through it."

The next morning Dashel will spend an hour praying to his deity. When he feels the surge of light within his body he rejoins his comrades. "I suspect the authorities will around today." He points towards the undead creatures. "Conner how do you think we should proceed?"

I am not sure. The language barrier will be an issue. Maybe we should just back off a bit and remain hidden?

The party retreats into the woods on the north side of the clearing and waits. It isn't long before a large group of humans enters the clearing from the south. At their head are the men who came up yesterday, an older-looking woman with the gleam of metal around her neck, and a man in leather armor with a sheathed scimitar. He also wears something around his neck, but you're not close enough to pick out what it is. You hear the cabin door open and the sounds of speech, all loud and emotional. Besmarial translates, "Twil is apparently glad to see her husband again. From his comments, the man with the scimitar is a priest of Sarenrae, and--hold. Master Gallowsmith is trying to reach me! He says the keystone configuration is about to shift, and we must do as little as possible to disturb the child for the next minute."

Much of the group comes around the house. There is a collective gasp as the bodies come into view; the priest advances, weapon drawn, and prods the fallen zombies. He turns back to the woodcutter, who has followed them to this side of the house, and asks a question. Before the man can reply, the priest sees the pukwudgie. He rushes into the woods and looks down at the body, then returns and speaks again. Your angel translates, "When did you hear the fighting? Then he seems to know a little about the pukwudgie...he tells the woodcutter that whoever the people were who restrained him, if it was them who killed these creatures they have done the work of the benevolent Gods."

As Besmarial speaks, the sounds of the conversation become muted, and the forest around the party begins to fade. The last thing you see is the priest holding up a hand in greeting or blessing, you're not entirely sure which, before you appear in a similar forest setting. Besmarial informs you that you've returned to your Golarion.

More to come later; I'll have a wrapup and a lead-in to the next mission.

Wow! Awesome!

With the wrap-up I feel like there was some finality or conclusion for us. Well done!

Oh that was very cool. Bravo DM!

Thanks! Glad you're enjoying this; I'm having a good time running it.

The return to Absalom is nearly the mirror image of the outbound journey--the boat you take downriver is packed to the gunwales with refugees, making for a rather unpleasant leg. Then it's a matter of waiting a day or so for Sea Nymph and her odd crew, and a leisurely voyage back that's much more comfortable than the high-speed run to Cheliax. (The steersman looks a little disappointed; you get the idea that he really enjoys windy days.)

The by-now familiar house looks the same, and Gallowsmith's image awaits. After a quick transfer of information from Besmarial, the sage shakes his head. "You were lucky that the gravest threats to the child's well-being attacked quickly, before your presence could drive her parents to run. And those orcs! That is indeed troubling...the unseen adversary may be behind them.

"This leads me to your next mission. The keystone for our Golarion is--at least for the moment--an idol of Irori at a monastery in northern Osirion. The monks there guard it well, but I was concerned about its safety and sent a few of your fellow agents there. Dashel, Conner--you may remember Krolmnite and Lyekeli? While there, Lyekeli noticed a sort of resonance on the idol, a peculiar phenomenon which she was unable to analyze. I investigated further, and I believe that an analog to the idol in another Golarion may be used to damage ours via a ritual of sympathetic magic. I need you to travel to that other Golarion, find the idol, and stop the ritual. However, I have another task for which Grungar is well suited, so his path must take him elsewhere--Krolmnite and, I believe, another agent will be able to assist you, though. You'll meet Krolmnite in Osirion. Give me your compass, Drovic, and I shall attune it to the rift that will take you to the other Golarion."

Krolmnite's player expressed an interest in coming back, and I also had a character submitted to my Kingmaker game that was a much better fit for this campaign. I'll get them lined up, then get this going.

"Sir, do we have a day to resupply,? This last adventure highlighted a few glaring holes in my preparation."

I'm looking for +1 chain shirt at least. Along with antitoxins perhaps a few other alchemy items to sooth sickness and whatnot. +1/+2 bolts for my crossbow would be nice. I'll prepare a small list of items.

"Time is short, but if you tell me what you need I should be able to have it waiting for you when you reach Osirion."

"I'll leave a short list."

Drovic tenses at all of the refugees at the gunwales, knuckles white on his belt as his eyes try to catch all of the movements and possible threats within the crowds.

Drovic listens to Gallowsmith quietly, then nods. "Unfortunate that our presence was shown in the first place." A hint of annoyance creeps into his voice but he covers it quickly, looking away from his recent "team members".

Monks. There are far worse to deal with. Although some of them can be insufferable preachers. The talk of the ritual peaks not only his professional interest, but his personal. "I would like to learn more about this magic if possible. It is good to understand what your enemies are doing." He listens to Grungar begins reassigned, getting a rare lopsided grin. "Pity." Drovic wordlessly hands over the compass, paying attention to the magic being used on it.

While watching there is a light stirring in Drovic's clothes and a tiny snake slithers out, slanted eyes glancing around. Drovic absentmindedly strokes it's head with a finger as the little snake examines the new faces. Keep your teeth to yourself Weyog. I'll feed you soon.

We didn't get any payment, correct? I nickel and coppered myself pretty low at character creation so I won't be able to afford any new toys.

No payment but you put up reasonable requests and the employer fills what he can. At least that is how it's worked in the past.

Budget about 1000 for this round. I have to do it this way, since you can't keep what you find in the other Golarions.

Conner listens intently, then asks his employer's image,

Gallowsmith, are we to assume that once we arrive at the other Golarion, that our old friend, Krolmnite, will direct us to the location of the analog relic?

He then stares at Drovic.

Not everyone can be silent killers like the two of us, Drovic. Everyone on this team serves a distinct purpose.

"In our Golarion, the idol is at the Stepped Tower of Djedefar, on the northern tip of the Alamein Peninsula; it would be best to start there in the other Golarion."

"I'm not so ignorant as to believe that everybody in the world should be skilled in the art of subterfuge, but when it comes to playing that game they should keep their hands out of it. You wouldn't see me charging across an open battlefield wearing a hundred pounds of armor, I'm no good at it, but I do recognize that there is a need for it and that others are better suited to do it." He shrugs. "I also understand that there's an issue of trust with me. Being honest, I'm not sure how to fix that. Words are cheap and I wouldn't pretend that they bond me."

Coner simply shakes his head at Drovic's words.

If you dont't have somethin' nice to say....oh, never mind...whatever.

He sits quietly awaiting their ultimate departure.