Welcome to my table! A quick introduction, my name is Chris and I've been playing Pathfinder Society since Season 0. I've been playing this family of RPGs since the final days of 1st edition. You'll find that I'm a very reasonable GM. To create a fair and fun "table" let me get some bookkeeping rules out of the way.
1. Please be honest. There's no way I can stop you from cheating, but if you're cheating....why play? Also make sure you're all aware of the PFS rules. This ranges from wealth and XP to no PvP. Don't forget about Paizo's forum rules! If you're unsure of how to play, please send me a private message and I can help you out.
1. Please use the text formatting and discussion vs. game play tabs correctly.
2. Please provide access to your PC stats somehow: your Paizo profile, an Obsidian Portal link, a googledoc, etc.
3. As this is an official table, no one can make decisions about your character's actions. I ask that you endeavor to post AT LEAST once every 24 hours. More is better. That being said, if you trust your teammates and are willing to give them "marching orders" I will allow it, but you've got to stick by their decision, no mulligans. If you're going to be away for more than 24 hours, please post in the Discussion tab.
4. I would rate myself as being fairly strong with the rules. If you have something a reasonable person would consider an oddball combination or corner case combo don't surprise me with it, let me know (and "show" me that you own the resources.)
5. Have fun. While I can't play fast and loose with the rules in PFS, particularly eloquent, exciting, and just plain awesome posts can get you pretty far.
The missive was as informative as always. Your thoughts of the North weren't off course so to speak, but it's not a Crusader assignment.
You find yourselves in an opulent parlor in the Druman capital of Kerse, part of the manor home of Temel Passad, a prominent Kalistocrat. Served the finest Chelish wine and delicate sweetmeats while awaiting your host, you have time to peruse a letter from Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin.
Role play the impolitely long wait for the NPC to start. ;-) Post a description of of your character and how they look (as well as anything else you'd like to share.) Once we do that I'll start for real.
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A staggeringly attractive youngish elf stands peering earnestly at the odd assortment of Pathfinders around him. No stranger to ad hoc groups of adventurers, Fel takes the opportunity to introduce himself congenially.
Good day fellow travelers, I'm Hérwë Felthanilal, but Please call me Fel. I am a Bard by trade but not one of those strange singing fruity harp-strummers, no my bardic lore is in the realm of chants. The man's strong and sonorous voice support his claim to those with an ear for such things.
Any crusty adventurer worth his salt would dismiss the elf out of hand though, due to his amateurish looks and cheerfully helpful demeanor.
The lanky elf looks to be dressed for the adventuring life the way a rank dilettante might. Clean and barely-used clothes, all the trendy accessories and some subdued but obviously valuable jewelry set him apart. Fancy boots bear not a scuff, and the rich leather of his pack is neither worn nor even broken in.
Even the weaponry on his person looks brand new, sporting none of the small customizations an old hand might make. The bowyer's original wax is still flaking off his bowstring bearing evidence that the weapon has only ever been drawn in a showroom. His dagger's hilt is shiny and unscratched. Indeed the only thing Fel is carrying that looks to have seen any use at all is a crudely shaped ten foot pole. The pole displays evidence of what look like bite marks, several nasty gouges and a charred end. Fel holds it lightly in his left hand, like an oversized walking stick as he shakes hands in a warm and welcoming way.
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The young woman, really no more than a girl, is leaning against the wall casually. Dressed simply but in good quality clothing, the simple tan vest over a blue blouse cut to her slim figure, with leather leggings and heavy boots designed for walking rather than show. While it's obvious she's tried to do something to make her medium-length hair presentable, there seems to be an eternal charge of static around her making it quickly float and tangle into something of a pleasing mess. She has a couple of small belt pouches, but seems somewhat unprepared for an extended journey - no weapons, no bags full of equipment.
She sighs, then opens her mouth. "First mission...well, other than the Confirmation which didn't go so well. I can understand being shipped up here. But...why did they send her too?"
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In the chair next to her, a slightly younger but similarly woman flicks a lock of her long black hair out of the way before adopting a look of wounded innocence ... with limited success.
"Milady, I am wounded by the implication that one such as I would engage in base skulduggery just to be placed at your side. As a loyal member of the Society of Pathfinders it is my duty and honor to go where my superiors send me; I assure you I was as surprised and delighted as you were to find that our esteemed superiors saw fit to appoint both of us to this task..."
She then turns back to face the rest of the room and rises to give a perfunctory but elegant bow. "My name is Kageko Nori. It is an honor to meet you all."
While the curved blade she placed against the side of her chair is peace-bonded, the more observant among you notice a hint of leather and metal underneath her loose shirtsleeves as she sits back down, suggesting a concealed throwing weapon of some sort.
Once she sits back down in the chair she unfolds her copy of the missive to read it through once more. "... While I approve in general of having a viable backup plan should the primary approach be unsuccessful, I very much dislike the notion of leaving anyone at the Razmiri priesthood's nonexistent mercies..."
Two silent servants open a pair of richly lacquered doors, and a human and two dwarves stride into the lavish parlor. The man, clad in immaculate robes of whitest silk, is short and round with a blond oiled beard, and his eyes are alert and amused. He takes a touch of snuff from a golden box and sneezes before saying, “It is a pleasure to welcome Pathfinders to one of my estates once more. I am, as you may know, Temel Passad. Allow me to introduce—” One of the two dwarves, a redheaded female in deep scarlet robes, curtly interrupts the man. “We can introduce ourselves, Passad. I am Metella Raugar, representing the interests of several Highhelm mercantile consortia. My companion”—she gestures to a dwarven man with leathery skin baked by the sun, his head swathed in a bright yellow scarf—“is Amauhak of Reth Bezel, a mystic of the sand dwarves of Osirion.”
Passad attentively sees to your needs and ensures that the refreshments are to your liking before discussing business. He informs you that his boat, the Abacus, will take you from Kerse, hugging the shore of Lake Encarthan before entering the mouth of the Glass River to pursue your first task: searching the Gray Revelation Inn. From there, the Abacus will take you the rest of the way to Mendev to deliver Passad, Metella, and Amauhak, and hopefully the liberated envoys. The deeply tanned Pahmet mystic notes that keeping the presence of himself and his two companions a secret is the wisest course, given what happened to the earlier team.
After the briefing all eyes turn to the Pathfinder team. Are there any questions? Passad asks.
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Kageko nods politely as Passad and the dwarven envoys introduce themselves, then listens attentively to the briefing.
She waits for Marika to finish asking her question before adding her own. "Additionally, we would like to know whether there have been any new developments since we were handed these missives," she replies, indicating the parchment letter with one hand before turning to look directly at the dwarves.
"Beyond that, if anyone can come up with any insight as to why the Razmiri Priesthood might have chosen to detain your colleagues, it would benefit us all greatly were this information to be shared before we come into contact with them," she finishes.
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Entering the room is a rather plump man with pale nearly transparent skin that reveals the blue and purple blood surging around his eyes. He wears long black robes, although they appear to be of the highest quality and studded with many gemstones . He grips a large scythe which is taller than himself and you notice that his hand bears a strikingly complex signet ring.
"Good day everyone. My name is Khamul and you may refer to me as such. I hail from the unfortunate land of Geb where I once served as a member of the Blood Lord nobility. There I was trained in the necromantic arts but when I rejected my country's praise of immortality through undeath, I had to flee the country. The Pathfinder Lodge in Sothis was good enough to offer me asylum and protect me from those Gebbites who would have my head."
He settles down into his seat and looks everyone over with sunken eyes. "I recognize that the necromantic arts are cruel and that some of you may feel uncomfortable with my presence here; I have encountered that before on missions. But I assure you that I am on a mission to redeem myself in the eyes of Nethys. I offer you my skills as a magician to further the progress of the Society."
"Ah, Amauhak," Khamul speaks up, "you hail from Osirion? The natives of Osirion were kind enough to take me in when I was in need and I have come to appreciate-and love-the land. Perhaps we can discuss your philosophies later."
Turning to Passad, Khamul asks, "How do you propose we get into Razmiran without causing a scene?"
cantrips
Detect Magic
Read Magic
Disrupt Undead
Touch of Fatigue
1st level
Ray of Enfeeblement
Ray of Enfeeblement
Ray of Sickening
Cause Fear
Passad looks to his companions briefly, then begins answering. "We are headed into a strict theocratic government presided over by a vast priestly bureaucracy serving a being said to be a living god. They have strange motivations. As to why they have detained three dwarves, we know not. It could be simple as extortion. The inn itself isn't overly large, perhaps a half dozen rooms. If there's more there isn't much more. Travel time will be brief, but it depends on the course you Pathfinders select. When we board the Abacus we'll have a better idea.
"The compliment is received. I think, however, that the key to being a merchant is in not waving overly large two handed weapons. Yes, I think that's a good start. Only a fool goes unarmed, but a weapon like THAT. That speaks volumes. Might I suggest simply appearing as bodyguards and the most silver-tongued and debonair among you play the part?"
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A tall, Ulfen woman is also in the room, rather silent up until this point, although it's clear by the interested expression in her hazel eyes that she's been paying attention. Her hair is dark, long, and wild, and it is braided on one side of her face with an intricate weave of silver thread. Her face is tattooed with dark blue ink horizontally across her cheekbones and vertically down over her eyelids; faint hints of more tattoos can be spotted beneath her clothes on her upper arms and back.
"I am nowhere near as interesting as the lot of you," she says with a grin. "My name's Sigrun Wolfrunner, once of the Land of the Linnorm Kings, now of wherever my feet find themselves today. Good to be working with ya'."
Strapped to Sigrun's waist and shoulders are a variety of weapons and other supplies, although those in most easy access are a dark steel waraxe and a tough wooden shield painted with an abstract howling wolf head in white. Her attire tends towards simple leathers and furs without much in the way of excess adornments, besides, of course, the silvery breastplate protecting her midsection.
The thought of the group disguising themselves as merchants amuses Sigrun, and she smiles to herself. "I'm no merchant, but I've spent enough time around them to play the role decent enough if nobody else feels up to the task. Either that, or you simply 'hire' me as many merchants have in the past - a guide, a tracker, a translator, and a bodyguard as needed."
"I reckon one of you ladies could pass as one easy enough," she says, nodding towards Kageko and Marika. "Or maybe the elf."
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Kageko favors the Ulfen woman with a graceful nod. "I am flattered by your confidence in my abilities, miss Wolfrunner, but I fear milady Marika and I are both somewhat on the young side to be credibly regarded as wealthy merchants in our own right; at the very least, we would not be sent on potentially risky ventures in unfamiliar regions without a supervisor of greater skill and age..." she replies, with a pointed glance toward Fel.
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"Maybe, but look - you're a foreigner around here. Ain't nobody gonna know that Tian Xia doesn't have merchant princesses like Qadira has, y'know?" She shrugs impassively. "Fel's as good a choice as any, though. Nobody knows jack about the elves and would probably swallow whatever story he gave them."
"So. What are we merchants of? Dwarves?" Sigrun grins and wiggles her eyebrows at the pair of stout-folk. "Unless we get a wagon full of odds and ends, I don't think we much look the part."
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A tall, lanky man with golden hair and startling turquoise eyes has introduced himself to all of you, with an ingratiating smile and a commanding presence. By the end of your brief conversation, you know him to be Chusynd Karkota, Cleric of Aroden!, as he was quick to state to each of you. It was almost as if you'd made a new best friend by the time he was done talking, and his wild ideas didn't seem nearly as outlandish as when he'd first begun speaking.
Yes! Yes, posing as merchants makes sense. Fel can be my herald, Khamûl and Sigrun my hired guards...
Chusynd considers a moment, then continues. Of course if we were religious pilgrims instead of merchants...have any of you heard the word of Aroden today?
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Sigrun stares at Chusynd with an incredulous expression and an arched brow, unsure whether the man was delusional, ignorant, or just plain stupid. Putting aside the Aroden issue (she hadn't the heart to mention oh, by the way, he's dead), she gently but firmly shakes her head.
"That'd be far worse. In fact - if you're religious, I suggest hiding it as best you can while we're in Razmiran. Don't you know? They all worship their leader there, sayin' he's a living god or some such. I don't think they'd take kindly to outsiders comin' in and espousing some other faith."
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Marika is considerably less kind than Sigurn. "You're insane. No, I take that back, Kageko is insane. You're crazy. Dropping Aroden's name like that should be a one-way ticket to the Tombs most places. No idea why you'd think that would be a good idea here." Somehow, she manages to get through all that without actually raising her voice in the slightest, but that somehow just makes it worse.
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Chusynd smiles and nods amiably to Sigrun and Marika as he continues. Well, not necessarily a pilgrimage per se, of course; more of a retreat, endeavoring to become one with Aroden. Or Razmir, if they prefer. To each their own.
He is silent for a second or two, then goes on as though he had never stopped. Then again, we could always pose as a circus, performing feats of derring-do and such. Clowns! Fireworks! Fortune-telling! Maybe even games of chance! Doesn't that sound like fun? Would the boat be large enough for a contingent of Razmirians to come aboard and take their chances at the dice table?
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While the party is deliberating their course of action, Khamul will turn to the tanned dwarf to speak of Osirion matters.
After Amauhak is finished, Khamul will change the subject. "Of course you likely know that the Sapphire Sage Amenopheus has been let go by Prince Khemet, although Amenopheus stays active in the Society. I am very interested in how many other Jeweled Sages there are still roaming the sands of Osirion. Do you happen to know anything about their way or where I could meet more of their kind?"
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Kageko declines dignify Marika's comment with a response, focusing instead on Chusynd. "I'm not certain that's wise either; I must admit I'm not as familiar with the tenets of the Razmirian faith, but from what I do hear they strike me as singularly opposed to anything fun unless it's in the name of their god. I suspect tact and subtlety will serve us better than extravagance and noise..."
Ask not the blind man to describe the sunset. I cannot speak for others, but when one has seen the original, copies seem desert worn. I can tell you only that I see the world as a balancing act. To find harmony, there cannot be two skies. Talk with me as we execute this mission, and learn not through conversation, but through observation... At this the dwarf's voice crescendos enough for the party to hear.
...The Razimirans are strict, but spiritually greedy. I suggest posing as pilgrims. In this you will be most believable. It will mask your lack of savoir-faire behind a veil of truth.
It is decided then? inquires Passad. "Let us make an last minute purchases, and meet on the Abacus. From there we shall enter Razmiran, and hope that this mission goes smoothly."
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Having nothing to purchase, Sigrun heads directly down to the docks and boards the Abacus as soon as possible.
On the trip to Razmiran, or perhaps even while waiting for the others to arrive, Sigrun strikes up conversation with Metella Raugar.
"So, you represent a bunch of dwarven merchants, right?" she asks, leaning up against the side of the ship and watching the dwarven woman closely. "Now, I may not look it, but I actually do some side work for some people who are quite interested in dwarven crafts and produce. I've heard your kind's smithing capabilities are out of this world." The ranger flashes Metella a grin.
"If you've got nothin' better to do while we sail, perhaps we could talk business for a while. If you get me an in with the dwarves, I can get you an in with the Qadirans. Eh?"
Metella to Sigrun, "Your compliments are cliche and transparent, but not unwelcome. Yes, let us discuss business. I represent many different crafts that will undoubtedly impress whomever you bring to the table..."
The conversation continues whilst waiting.
With supplies acquired and items prepared, you ship out. The journey along the coast of Lake Encarthan from Kerse is uneventful. Passad’s hired hands (five sailors in all, including the captain) are quiet and efficient, and the boat, a modest craft, reaches the mouth of the Glass River and heads east without incident. As the boat enters Razmiri waters, Passad pulls the Pathfinder team aside. "Pathfinders, we have a choice as to whether we shall dock at Xer and pay any necessary tolls or sail on and try to evade Razmiri authorities entirely. I recommend that we do former. I maintain that abiding by the local customs will help us to avoid any ...unwanted attention, especially if we include an extra “gratuity” when paying the tolls. Furthermore, without proof that we've paid the expected tribute, we run the risk of greater trouble if accosted by one of the ubiquitous faith barges upriver." Passad gives a heavy sigh and continues, "I am "happy" to provide the toll myself." He stops to draw two platinum pieces from a white silk purse."[/b]
Mettela, heretofore silent counters, "Stopping at Xer gives the authorities a chance to search the boat and discover us. As a result, it is better to avoid the docks altogether and take their chances with any faith barges they might encounter."
While Amauhak remains silent during the exchange, 6 eyes turn towards the lot of you. The question as to the plan is given wordlessly to you....