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"Did you tell them about the lich?"
Eadie covers her mouth with her fingertips and giggles, when she hears a disembodied voice.
Thornkeep! I will be traveling there in just a few weeks myself. Such a small world, isn't it?
“Hey! Who said that?”
Is this place haunted? Maybe it’s an invisible Aspis spy!
“Come out, come out wherever you are! We probably won’t bite … but just to be sure, don’t stand too close to Lore.”
Eadie looks suspiciously at Lhug as she holds a glass containing his concoction up to her nose.
As she sniffs it, her eyes brighten and the left side of her mouth curls upwards. She takes a sip and smiles.
“Not bad, Lhug-mor! Aren’t you full of surprises?”
“Has anyone taken Cayden’s ‘stool-table-heavy sideboard’ challenge? According to my roomie, it’s popular at the Publican House in Riddleport, and I’ve always wanted to give it a go."
"Jostrum, Grim, Will He have you heard of it?”
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"Aye, I've heard of it, Eadie. My cousin was part of that challenge - she was working with a follower of Calistria - Lacey? Lucy? - something like that." Wilhelm holds out his mug to Lhug-mor for some of his cold-brewed concoction.
"Ooof! That's the stuff!"
He turns back to Eadie, "So's as I said - I've certainly heard of the challenge, but haven't yet participated. Should we try it out here?"
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The drink-balancing game requires each contestant to select a barstool , a table , or a heavy sideboard .
This selection is loaded up with three , six , or nine full cups of ale, at the contestant’s choice.
The contestant must lift her selected furniture above her head without spilling any ale.
If multiple contestants succeed at both checks, ties are broken first by furniture type (a sideboard beats a table, which beats a stool), then by number of drinks (more drinks beat fewer drinks).
(You would need to make a STR check and a DEX or Sleight of Hand check per round)
No magical enhancement please, to keep it fair.
All contestants to make their rolls under a spoiler, until everyone competing has had a turn.
Yes, this would have to be under the honor system.
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Eadie takes another mouthful of Lhug’s kuhl café concoction.
“How did everyone wind up in their respective faction? I serve the Ruby Prince through his agent Amenopheus, even though I’ve never actually set foot in Osirion. I wonder if I’m the only one?”
She *shrugs* “You see, I really like Ancient Osirion history and culture. Did you know they had their own pantheon, separate to that of the Inner Sea Twenty AND they worshipped cats! How cool is that?”
“The cat goddess was named Bast and if any pull-thru ever intentionally killed a cat, according to the Sapphire Sage* there was a 2% chance that She’d see it AND then a 5% chance that She’d dispatch an avatar to slay the bastid. Hardcore or what? I'm thinking you wouldn't have wanted to be a dog.”
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“I hear what you’re saying, Corb.”
How could one not!
“But really, it's just a game. Do you want to see who goes first, with a quick race to the furniture?”
Eadie turns to the Thornkeep veterans, kicks off her shoes and stands in her stockinged feet. “Jostrum or Willy, can I please borrow your cloak?”
How bad is the floor?
Not that great but sod it! I stol… borrowed these stockings from Luisila’s wardrobe anyway.
“Ready, Corb and anyone else?”
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Eadie takes the proffered ankle length cloak and drapes it around her shoulders, so that its overlapping edges completely encircle her. She ties the garment tightly at her neck and then uses a waist-level internal tie to prevent it from gaping at the front.
Beneath the cloak, the young woman wriggles while making some Mysterious! adjustments to the hem-length of her dress. She lets out a breath and announces her selection for the contest.
“Table with three drinks! Load her up!”
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Eadie bends her knees and sits on her haunches. With her heels raised, the young warrior’s weight is distributed evenly on the front of both her feet. She places her hands with their palms upraised beneath the table.
Her plan is to stand and lift the table straight above her head in one single, smooth action.
She almost succeeds! BUT, as her elbows straighten a sudden doubt distracts her …
Everyone is staring at me … did I do the cloak’s middle tie up properly?
Her left hand lags behind her right by only a few inches – but it’s enough. All three drinks slide off table, adding to her anxiety. The unbalanced table follows them to the floor shortly after with a
Eadie looks down at the mess and then up at Corbalias. She manages a smile. “How magnanimous of us, Corb! Letting someone else have the honor of being Filosten’s resident champion as an early Foundation Day present.”
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"Maybe I should have tried after all... you two suck at this..." Lore breaks into a peal of laughter...
Just for fun, she tries balancing 3 drinks on a barstool, and tries to lift the thing up into the air.
"Hah! IF I were playing..." she stresses the word 'if', "... I would have won!"
She carefully lowers the barstool again, places the three drinks on the counter, climbs up onto the barstool and downs one of the drinks rapidly.
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"Maybe I should have tried after all... you two suck at this..." Lore breaks into a peal of laughter...
Trying not to smile, Eadie stands with **teenage diva exaggerated** hands on hips.
She tosses her head. “ ... perhaps ... YOU should show us how it’s done, huh?”
As the bar stool rises Eadie begins stamping her feet. She puts a thumb and forefinger into her mouth and lets out a LOUD, piercing (but still ladylike)
As Filosten’s champion claims the spoils. “We are soooo Not Worthy!”
Eadie laughs, “So, are you still willing to spend time in the company of the little people, then?”
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Eadie shakes her head as she watches Corbalias damage his future employer’s business.
“Steady, Tiger! Don’t sweat the *ahem* little things.” She giggles as she accepts the drink from Lore.
She *clinks* glasses again with her friend and smiles, “Salud!”
Maybe if I hold my nose while I drink it, the ale won’t taste as bad.
She tries that and then hollers, “C’mon Grim and Lhug, it’s your turn! It’s casties 1, fighties nothing. They’re whippin’ our tails. But no pressure!”
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Eadie looks at Lore with equal measures of disbelief/Oh, SO much belief.
He can’t have missed it! Actually … yes, he could have.
Casually, “Maybe what you want, is to buy another round, Grim?”
The fighter nudges the cleric, indicates the meeting between the largish stranger and the largish temper and whispers.
“Might be interesting …”
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Ezrek takes the proffered drink, eyeing it, sniffing it, then taking a small sip and swirling it in his mouth.
Nodding, he takes a large gulp from the glass and slams it down. Smiling he offers his hand to Corbalias. "Very good man! That is delicious. My name is Ezrek Filosten and I am the owner of this establishment. You show much potential! How would like a job and an apprenticeship?"
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Ezrek smiles and takes a out a dog-eared, battered, and heavily annotated book. Opening it toward the begging. Removing a few pieces of parchment, he begins scribbling notes on two pieces of paper. Once finished he slides the papers over to Corbalias. "I must be off shortly for another mission, but in the mean time, if you would deem it acceptable, I would like for you to look after the Alembic and study these formulae." He begins setting out a few vials and packets of materials. "There is plenty of glassware in the back room. As a matter of fact, I keep a full lab back there. See what you can manage while I'm gone. Just try not to blow the place up!"
Only to imbibed by yourself!
Enlarge Person
Comprehend Languages
Expeditious Retreat
Paper #2 Concoctions
To be drank by the patrons!
Filosten's Fizzy Ale
Dwarven Stout
Andoren Whiskey Sour
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A large patron lumbers up to the bar. A moment later an odd, unpleasant smell, joins him. Reaching into a pocket in his stained trousers, he pulls out some lint, which he uses a sausage-like finger to push aside, revealing some green coppers and a badly-tarnished silver below. "Hah! Somethin cheap, barkeep!"
Wood groans as he lowers himself onto a stool.
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Corb just grabs a few bottles from another table and puts them in front of the smelly man. the just-as-big bartender responds.
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Grimdoc awakens from his stupor to find his friends gone. He asks a patron of Eadie and tracks her down to the Grand Lodge on his way home.
" Hey Eadie...I cannot believe you left me passed out back at Filosten's Alembic with the busted pottery. I din not drink all of that ...well ok maybe most. Now we need to go find Lore an Ruprecht. "
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Wow! Now that was a Foundation Day party!
Now let’s see, Lhug-mor’s off to the next one … Lore’s home safely. I remembered my shoes (after Lore asked me where they were) and returned Willy’s cloak before he left … So why do I keep thinking there’s something I’ve forgotten?
*shrugs* Meh. Can’t be that important …
A few hours later, Eadie wakes suddenly, sitting bolt upright in her dorm room bed.
Later …
Eadie finds her right foot to be worthy of intense scrutiny as she shuffles it back and forth on the ground.
“C’mon, Grim. There’s NO WAY I’d abandon you in a hostile environment. You were among friends and it didn’t look like you needed a flanking buddy for any of those drinks when we left …”
“Now we need to go find Lore an Ruprecht.”
“Now you're talking! It must be almost time to get the next party started.”
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A white monkey scampers across the floor, weaving through patrons and hopping up to the public board hanging near the bar. Pulling a rolled up scroll from a small backpack, it pins a notice up for all to see. The monkey looks around, spies one of Corb's concoctions unattended, and leaps over to it. It takes a quick sip and goes rigid. With a squeak, the monkey's eyes bug out and it buries its face back in the cup, heaving for a moment. It then slumps on the bar, pawing at its tongue.
The Notice:
Pathfinders Wanted!
Hidden within the twisting paths of the Echo Wood lies the lawless settlement of Thornkeep. Here, the hardiest settlers and artisans ply their trades, ready to defend their own with blade or arrow; mercenaries and barbarians brawl in dismal taphouses, fueled by turbid moonshine and illicit backwater drugs; brigands and river pirates come to spend their bloody gold in unruly and dingy establishments; and monsters both benign and otherwise hide among the populace, eking out their debauched existences as they seek to inflict cruelties on their neighbors. Mercy, charity, trust—these virtues are in short supply in Thornkeep. It is a place where the bold and enterprising can make a fortune and perhaps even keep it—so long as they are strong enough to protect their wealth from the myriad dangers, both human and otherwise, that plague the town.
Beneath the weathered walls of Thornkeep lies an ancient maze of magic and madness. Once the workrooms and summoning chamber of a rebel Azlanti lord, these subterranean chambers were forgotten thousands of years ago after the eradication of the evil lord and his followers. Over the centuries, adventurers have found their way into these twisting passages and magnificent chambers, only to discover that the fading magic of the ancient Azlanti still lingers here. The people of Thornkeep call this dungeon the Halls Under the Hill, but those heroes who have dared its depths know this place by a different name: the Accursed Halls.
Rumors have recently reached the ears of the Pathfinder Society of something stirring within the Halls, and Baron Tervin Blackshield has given Pathfinders permission to explore the dangerous dungeons. All those brave enough to delve the Accursed Halls report to Aram Zey at the Grand Lodge in Absalom for further details.
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A tall, hawk-nosed, stern looking, half elf walks in and orders an ale from Corb. Putting his back against the bar, he watches the patrons for a time before speaking to all present. "I hear tell that the demons are massing for an invasion of Nerosyan. Any Pathfinder worth his salt is heading up there. You lot look like you could use some action!"
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The half-elf takes another long pull from his tankard and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. "I hear there is another mission forming to head to Jalmeray. Something about stopping some Apsis thugs."
Discussion thread if interested.
Already have two players. Will start as soon as I get at least two more.
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The door bursts open and a lively half-elf woman bounds up to the bar. "Any whiskey?" She asks of whoever is pouring. When she gets her order filled she takes her drink and walks around the tavern a bit.
"More o' them Asspissers causing problems? Oye. When're they gonna learn, am I right?" She glances around a bit.
"Hey! I've been looking for a friend of mine. Kinda portly, but smart as a whip and pulls through in the clutch. Name's Ernie Kalthet - any of you know him? If any of ya do - would you be so kind as to tell him Linnea, your's truly, is off to the Flaxseed Lodge."
She quickly downs her whiskey, slaps a silver on the bar and makes her way out.
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A grizzled looking dwarf with a musket slung over his shoulder enters the Alembic and plops down in front of the bar. Ordering a dwarven stout, he take a long pull from the tankard, before setting it down, liquid dripping off his shaggy beard. He looks around the room for a moment, the says a little to loudly. "Hear there's a mission over in Tin' Xin'. They's lookin' fer sperienced Finders'. Any of ya's goin'?"
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Corb bursts out from the back, messenger (with message) in grasp. His feet pound loudly as he abandons the shop.
-Posted with Wayfinder