EM - [PFS] Baby It's Cold Outside (Inactive)

Game Master Evil Minion

Masym nods in satisfaction as the shaken man let slip an important clue. He is about to say something when the pretty woman priestess steps forward and tries to use her honeyed words on the man. At first he is about to wave off her attempt at diplomacy here, but something in her mannerisms gave him pause. He instead waits for the captive to respond.

Aye, she does have a way with words about 'er. Something I could never hope to equal. While I don't think she can wrangle any further information from him, if anyone can charm him I think she can.

Of course Masym has no idea Nella can actually charm him here, he he.

The Ulfen man says something else in Skald, with an angry tone, but does not otherwise acquiesce to Nella's diplomatic efforts.

Apparently, he's been bullied enough for one day, that he'll have no more. Those bridges have burned.

aka: you got what you needed... well assuming Masym relays what he knows...
Heh, though if you'd started with the 27... but this way was more fun (well, for me!)

Masym pulls the rest of his companions out of the room, out of earshot of the captive. Once they are alone he first gives Nella a smile, "Good words there. Much better than any words of mine." His face grows serious again as he says urgently, "That fool slipped up and revealed where someone like Bengeirr and his men could hole up. He mentioned th' Rosy Fingers, which is nothing but a sailor's dive down in the Docks District by the water. Plenty of seedy warehouses nearby where they can lay low and never be seen. Good thing I know exactly where it is!" He hoists his pack up and grabs his spear. "Now to figure what to do with him. I say knock him out until we kin grab th' Lantern from his fellow warriors."

"We just woke him up! But yeah, he needs to be unconscious and stay that way for a few hours at least. However, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not thrilled about the idea of beating up a bound and helpless man, no matter how evil he and his compatriots might be."

"I didn't really think it would work, but I had to try anyway," Nella replies with a regretful smile. "It's not something I like to use too often because I'm afraid I'll be tempted to abuse it, but Shelyn does grant me a small ability to...well, to charm someone with my words."

"I can't make them do anything, but they're a lot more likely to be helpful and answer questions," she adds quickly. "If we have to do this again, I'll try it - after we've tried convincing them with just our words, okay?"

When Tchak voices unease at knocking the man out yet again, Nella nods in agreement. "Can't we just gag him and lock him in one of these rooms for right now?"

"I think the basement would be great for that. But I don't think we can tell Tyros. He might not agree. No matter what I think we need to act quickly. I don't know how long those guys might be at that Rosy Fingers place."

I have something that might help
The half elf will begin to play a sleepy, calming song on her mandolin and will sing about being in one's mother's arms
Warm and cozy, cozy and warm, warm milk and the hug of a mother
Warm and cozy, cozy and warm, there is no comfort like this, no, no other

Casting Lullaby Will save DC 13

Casting Time 1 standard action

Components V, S

Range medium (100 ft. + 10 ft./level)

Area living creatures within a 10-ft.-radius burst

Duration concentration + 1 round/level (D)

Saving Throw Will negates; Spell Resistance yes

Any creature within the area that fails a Will save becomes drowsy and inattentive, taking a –5 penalty on Perception checks and a –2 penalty on Will saves against sleep effects while the lullaby is in effect. Lullaby lasts for as long as the caster concentrates, plus up to 1 round per caster level thereafter.

Not sure if everyone has to make the will save?

OK, moving on!

With the ulfen prisoner suitably detained, the party moves on, in search of Bengeirr and the mysterious lantern.

The hike to the Docks District takes some time through the afternoon heat. It is quite the contrast in styles, going from the posh upscale environs of the Ivy District to the rough blue-collar surroundings of the Docks.

The area that Masym leads you to, is even lower down the social scale than usual for the area, though everywhere businesses and workmen, both legitimate and otherwise, abound. Despite the temperature of the day.

The Rosy Fingers Tavern is right down by the waterfront. Though mostly quiet by the time you arrive, as most of its business apparently happening once the work day ends.

There are a few warehouses nearby, but only two of those are located on a dock capable of mooring a ship. And the first one of those proves to be unoccupied.

The second however is right across the street from the tavern.

It is built partially on the docks themselves with part of it extending out over the water. The building is thirty feet tall with no visible windows. On the landward side is a pair of large cargo doors with a smaller door built into the right-hand one. Piers run along either side of the building and on the seaward side is a massive set of doors able to accommodate a small ship.

The street is busy, the Rosy Fingers is not the only tavern doing business among the warehouses down here. Most of the warehouses you've seen have had sentries in front of them, with the ships at the docks similarly guarded. This one is no different, as you will easily spot a large ulfen warrior, with an axe resting in his lap, sitting on a small pile of crates across from the warehouse, obviously keeping watch on the main door and occasionally scaring off anyone who gets too curious.

I've added a map linked at the top. Not sure if I did it right, so let me know if it works! (ignore the windows on the map... they're just painted on for show!)

Also note: Open hostilities in the middle of the day, in the middle of a relatively busy street, are likely to get the guards called in and people arrested. Though it is the Docks... so the response time will vary

Masym slows down and tries to surreptiously eyeball the Ulfen warrior without looking too interested in him. "Looks like we struck pay dirt here."

Glancing around him at the busy traffic, he makes sure to stow his spear on his pack. "So, looks like a good time for words here, right?" He eyes the women Nell and Phoebee, awaiting their responses.

Maybe he would like to hear a song? inquires the bard.

Nella frowns, glancing around at the hustle and bustle of the area. "Truth be told, I don't know that words are going to work too well - at least not completely honest ones. Walking up and asking him nicely for the lantern isn't going to work and picking a fight in broad daylight is the last thing we want to do."

"If it were dark then we might try sneaking by," she continues. "But we don't know how long Skelg has so I don't know if waiting for dark is smart. Maybe I could try my charm magic on him? I'd have to get closer somehow but if it worked, I could probably talk us into that warehouse."

"Could we instead create a distraction to pull the guard away for a few minutes?" Malusha looks around at the docks and warehouses. There seems to be enough going on that somehow they could create a distraction but it's not clear that the guard would pay attention.

I could sing him a nice little lullaby that could put him to sleep. she says. Music can be very soothing.

"But wait a minute. That guard said something about Bengeirr being in the Rosy Fingers tavern. Maybe we should go in there first. If we can spot Bengeirr or some of his guys in there, that might help us get into the warehouse." Malusha looks over at the front of the tavern trying to glace through the windows or doorway. From out on the street is it nearly impossible for him to determine anything that is going on inside.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

Masym nods in reply to Malusha. "Good catch there. We should see if he is inside." As he approaches the front door of the tavern, he holds up a hand in warning. "Just a warning here: This place is a dive. Keep yer eyes open and yer mouth shut here. We have a job to do so let's do it."

The tavern door wings open easily, and your noses are quickly assaulted with an array of aromas. Stale beer, sweat, smoke, rotting fish, and seawater.

The tavern itself is rather small, looking like little more than what it actually is, an old net shed, that someone converted into a place to get drunk.

The bar counter is a series of thick wooden planks resting on barrels. One of the planks has the barely legible scrawl of a ship name on it, indicating they they were probably scavenged from one of the many shipwrecks out in the harbor.

The tables are all overturned barrels and a few crates, all heavily stained, with two or three battered sturdy wooden stools arrayed around each one.

The place proves to be mostly deserted this time of the day, and is extremely hot. An old man in dirty work clothes seems to be passed out on one of the barrels in the back, somehow miraculously managing to stay on his stool, a partially filled bottle overturned beside him. Another middle aged stocky man, soaked in sweat, sits at the bar staring at a shotglass in front of him, with two more empty beside that.

Behind the bar, is a lone shirtless garundi man sitting down near the end, away from the second man, sharpening a knife, a half dozen stopped kegs stacked behind him.

Two pairs of eyes look up, squinting as you enter. The barkeeper frowns suspiciously, once he sees who is coming in. The other man, quickly shoots back the drink in front of him, then hastily exits through the door you just came in, eyes looking at the floor as he passes.

You see no ulfens or anyone that could pass for Bengeirr or his men.

You guys don't look to happy and that makes me sad! I know! Maybe a song will cheer you up. I know it always cheers me up! as she begins to play her mandolin

perfom 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12

The worker passed out in the back does not appear responsive to Phoebee's tune... though the performance is a little flat.

The barkeep frowns, still eyeing the Pathfinders suspiciously and calls out. "We ain't payin' for wire strokers. Ain't like to be the clientele what will pay much neither. And won't be many a them 'til after shift."

He points with a hand missing 3 of its fingers, to a hastily scribbled menu painted on the wall in barely legible script. There are only 4 items listed (Beer, Rum, Grog, and Rosy's Finest) with a price listed for each.

"We got that. Ya want that, fine. If not, yer most likely lost."

Malusha recognizes the fellow as a Garundi and flashes him a smile. He can't tell if the grizzled man is from the north part of Garund, where Osiriani is more common, but he thinks it's worth a shot to greet him in his native tongue, "Mithi, taki buji." Hello, my friend.

Masym approaches the bar and takes out a coin. "Fine. Rosie's Finest." He watches Malusha approach the Garundi closely on the alert for trouble, as he awaits his drink.

Masym has no intention of drinking the swill provided him here, he just wants to head off trouble here.

The barkeep continues to eye Malusha warily as if still trying to determine why he's here.

"Ya. Hi." He says impatiently, though whether he understood the words, or merely recognized it as a greeting are not clear.

"You here for libations? If not, we're busy." He seems entirely unconcerned at the obviousness of the lie.

Masym however finally orders something, and the man nods, clearly the only one of you that even remotely looks like they might fit in here.

He quickly takes the offered coin with his partial hand then turns to grab a wooden mug out of a crate behind him, before filling it from the only keg that has a spigot on it with practiced ease.

It appears to be some sort of pale beer. Before handing it over, however, he pulls out a small tub at his feet, and reaches down to extract a small off-white root-like substance, a couple of inches long. He then tosses it into the mug, before sliding it over the plank to Masym.

He then looks at everyone else with a frown, then turns back to Malusha.

Suddenly he seems to notice his holy symbol, and the frown turns to a scowl. He reaches down and picks up a well-used wooden club, and uses it to point to another sign that reads: No Preaching. Below which someone has scrawled. 'We don't serve gods here!'

"If you ain't drinkin', best you move along." He growls, as if finally figuring out why you came in. "And take them with ya."

Oh boy...so much for not attracting too much attention, Nella thinks.

"No no no, we're not here to preach," Nella intervenes. "Not unless you've got anyone here that you think might listen, anyway. I know we look a bit out of place but we're just looking for a little information."

Following Masym's lead, she approaches the bar and lays down some coin. "But we'll start off with a drink as a show of goodwill, okay? I'm not feeling as brave as my friend here so I'll just try the rum."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27

Please let this at least be a step above the grog...and without the worms!

Ooo... nice bit of smooth talking!

The barkeep frowns a moment longer, for appearances sake, then nods, slightly molified by Nella's words. He gives her a toothless grin, as he puts the club back down.

"Alright then. As long as ya keep yer proselytizing elsewhere, you can drink here. I ain't the Legion, though this town could probably use 'em."

He grabs a wooden shot glass out of a bucket, gives it a quick wipe with a rag hanging off his pants, and produces a large clay jug from a shelf built into the back of one of the barrels holding up the bar.

"Got this Besmaran prig what comes in here every couple a weeks tryin' to raise trouble. Even a few solid whacks don't wanna dissuade that one."

He pours a murky fluid into the shot glass, and hands it to Nella.

"Ain't probably what a fine lady like yerself is used to, but we ain't no fancy establishment." He adds apologetically.

"And we don't serve much gossip here." He says cautiously. "Ya come to the Rosy Fingers ta forget a hard day, not ta have folks rememberin'."

At the barkeep's outburst Malusha is taken aback. He has encountered some people openly hostile towards his profession but not very often. Before he can respond Nella steps in. He nods in agreement with her and smiles at the barkeep. "No offense meant, kind sir." Then, just like Masym and Nella, he fishes out a coin and puts it on the counter. He eyes their drinks, neither look appetizing, and decides to try one of the other options. "I'd like the beer please."

Do you have any rum with a carbonated beverage with a sprig of lime and mint? inquires the bard. I head that some bars have this, I think they call it rum and coke or cola or something like that she says.

Jones will belly-up to the bar and slap a silver piece on the counter, "I'll take a beer."

For the record, all of these have prices in coppers. So I'm not going to worry about the costs, unless you start ordering multiples.

He quickly grabs two more mugs from the crate, and fills them with a practiced hand from the same keg that Masym's came from earlier. This time however, he does not add the strange root to them, and just slides one across to Jones and the other to Malusha.

Phoebee he looks at oddly, before hitching a thumb back towards the 'menu'. "We got that." He repeats. "This ain't no high falutin' place."

Let me know if you guys drink your drinks. I'll let you know how they are =)

Masym raises an eyebrow at Phoebee before turning his attention to the task at hand. I'll have ta try that drink at some point...

Leaving his drink untouched for the moment, he jerks his thumb towards the front door and responds, "Yeah, understood about tryin' ta drink yer troubles away. Can you tell us if any...unusual folk stopped by to drown their own sorrows away?" He reaches for a gold piece and lays it on the bar. "Especially recently?"

Jones listens to the conversation and takes a sip of his drink.

With a shocked look on her face at the barkeep's comments, the half elf will listen.

Jones will find the beer to be mostly as expected. Cheap, warm, and somewhat bland, but surprisingly also a little salty.

The barkeeps eye goes to the gold coin Masym places on the counter almost immediately, and you can see him considering things in his head.

Finally he snakes it off the bar, and it disappears into a pocket.

"Only unusual folk ta walk in here anytime recent, is you lot." He says.

"Usually just dockworkers after a long day... sometimes before... ruffians and Ol' Fred o'er there." He waves one hand absently at the unconscious man in the back of the room.

"But ain't nothin' unusual 'bout any a that."

"Unusual? Us?" asks the bird-man. He looks around at the rest of the party and shrugs. "Tell me, then, if you would be so kind, do you have a regular by the name of Bengeirr by any chance? I've heard he frequents your establishment from time to time."

"Don't usually get that familiar." He says. "Serve 'em their poison a choice. Listen to their story on occasion."

"Its the job." He adds with a shrug. "Most don't wanna remember who they is. And thems what do frequent here, none of 'em's named that."

"At least none what's shared it with me."

Bengeirr and company have only been in town a week... not quite enough time to frequent anywhere

"Phoebee, that drink sounds ridiculous and delicious all at once!" Nella laughs. "Whenever you find a place that serves them, let me know and I'll go with you."

Getting back to business at hand, Nella takes a drink of her rum as she considers what the barker has shared so far. "What about those men I've seen outside lately, like the grumpy one keeping watch on that warehouse across the street? Do they ever come in for drinks or anything like that?"

"What? That Ulfen bludger outside?" He snorts. "Ain't from around here, those ones. Don't have the good sense to not stand out in this heat all the day. Amazed he ain't melted."

"Been in a couple a times." He nods towards Masym's untouched drink. "Like the rosewater, them ones. Good for the aches and pains of a hard workday, or from knockin' heads. You know them northerners."

"But they ain't been by for a few days. Since they was here celebratin' a few night back." He shrugs slightly, clearly not thinking it anything unusual. "Just been holed up in their warehouse since then. A handful of 'em."

At the taste of the beer, Jones shrugs and takes another sip. "That the warehouse, across the street? How many you think are in there?"

The barkeep frowns, suddenly cautious as he starts to get an inkling of your intentions at Jones' question.

"Ain't never been." He says. "Sailed in a week and a bit back, but only half a dozen or so ever saw their way in here at one time."

"Don't think they'll be much pleased at interruptions." He warns.

"Or overly talkative folk." He adds. "I think you should be headin' out now, will be gettin' regulars comin' in soon."

He stops answering questions at this time.

Malusha can tell that the barkeep has reached the end of his willingness to talk. He takes a sip from his mug then sets it back down on the counter. "Thank you sir." He turns to his friends. "Well I guess it's time for us to head back out." He walks towards the door and then waits for the others to follow.

Masym rises to his feet and follows Malusha out of the tavern. Noting the drink he did not sample he pushes it over to the barkeep. "Wish I could stay and enjoy it but I hope you enjoy that!"

1d20 ⇒ 13

Alright, you guys are back in the same boat you were before you went in... A warehouse, and a guard watching the door.

As you file back out into the midday heat, the lone guard glances your way, though he doesn't seem up for much more than that.

With no shade whatsoever where he stands, he looks uncomfortable, and miserable... limiting himself to just chasing off those who try to approach the warehouse door proper.

Penelope, I have heard that they mix this cola drink with milk as well. I wonder what kind of milk that would be? Sheep, cow, goat, camel, ox? I don't think I would ever be able to drink that though, I'm lactoad intolerant and so if I drank the milk, well, I might just clear a dungeon. she says as she begins to laugh.

Is there a way that we can approach from the docks, like through the water?

You could try to go through the water, sure. Though you're not sure how deep it is here (though probably reasonably deep if ships can enter). Whether there's critters to worry about is a different question.

The docks on either side of the warehouse are both in clear view of the watchmen, though he can't see the water from there, so you might have to enter elsewhere and swim over

At current tides, its about 10' down to the water from dock level.

"What if one of us goes to tell the guard that there is a message from Skelg's house. Maybe he will leave his post for a bit?" Malusha speaks in a low voice to the group. "Otherwise, I can't think of any way that we can get into that warehouse and I think that's what we need to do."

"Thanks for the information and your time," Nella murmurs to the barkeep as the group prepares to head back outside. "And don't worry, if anyone comes asking about us then we won't blame you a bit if you 'forget' that you told us anything interesting," she adds before hurrying out the door after the others.

***************************

Back outside, Nella's brow furrows as they consider the best way to proceed. "I don't think that'll work - he'd have no reason to trust anything we'd say, right? We could try going into the water but I have no idea how deep it is or if any of us can even swim worth a hoot."

"Phoebee, you said that you could sing people to sleep, right? He looks awfully hot sitting out there so I don't know if it'd work or not, but maybe if he fell asleep we could slip inside?"

The half-elf perks up and begins to play a little tune about the heat of the day and how tired it makes people as she casts lullaby.

Any creature within the area that fails a Will save becomes drowsy and inattentive, taking a -5 penalty on Perception checks and a -2 penalty on Will saves against sleep effects while the lullaby is in effect. Lullaby lasts for as long as the caster concentrates, plus up to 1 round per caster level thereafter.

DC 13 Will

The time has come, as the heat of the day draws near, to simply just close your eyes, and shaa shaay, shaa shaaay awaaaay

Do allies need to pass a will save too?

Phoebee, that won't actually put him to sleep... just make him drowsy.
Is the intent to follow that up with an actual sleep spell?

Knowing the whole chain of actions intended would be helpful so as not to drag this out.

Malusha, Lullaby is a 10' radius burst, and a 110' range... so as long as you're not within 10' of the guard, you're fine.

I know, he will get a negative though to the sleep spell if he misses the save. The intent is to cast sleep with a will save of 14

Allies need to make the save as well if they are within the radius but she wouldnt be casting sleep on them.

Ok.. ya, when doing these sorts of things out of combat, its helpful to mention it all upfront is all, to avoid the possibility of it taking days to resolve =)

Will assume you stay as far away as you can while doing this, to make it harder for him to notice
You will use up 2 rounds of bardic performance to do this, due to the full round casting time of the sleep spell

Moving in the opposite direction a ways, Phoebee turns to look back towards the lone guard down the street. She starts to strum her lute with a simple rhythm as she sings quietly along.

There is no effect at first, but as she starts to slow the rhythm down, you can see the guard down the block start to blink slightly as his head starts to bob. Eventually his chin hits his chest before he suddenly he jerks his head back up, shaking it trying to chase the cobwebs and looking around with half-hearted alertness. Seeing nothing suspicious, the momentary alarm fades just as quickly, melting away in the heat, and his eyelids grow heavy once more.

Seeing this, the bard deftly shifts her song, and the lyrics suddenly contain a few arcane words as well.

Despite his best efforts to stay alert, the guard finally succumbs to the heat of the day and the urge to take a small nap. He slowly slumps over and slides down amidst the crates he was sitting on only moments before, his axe sliding to the ground along with him.

The traffic on the street pays him no heed. Just someone taking a siesta in the noonday sun, or perhaps too early a visitor to the tavern next door.

Nicely done! You have a minute before he wakes up!