GM BPC's PFS of Awesomeness! (Inactive)

Game Master Black Powder Chocobo

Placeholder text for the first game!

Merevelyn is sitting in the much-storied "Pig's Paunch" tavern, at the table with the best view of everyone who comes and goes, and where she can still have her back to the wall. Before her is a large stack of serious tomes and Pathfinder Chronicles, plus pen and ink and a thick sheaf of notes in her own cryptic shorthand. (The lot of them is probably too heavy for the slight half-elven woman to carry to and fro, but there always seems to be some strong individual to help, when you know how to ask.)

It isn't the quietest place for traditional scholarly studies, of course, but it is very conducive to the broad range of learning Merevelyn engages in: comings and goings, all of the quirks of behavior, idle gossip, deals of all sorts, inebriated and indiscreet ramblings. (She drinks nothing stronger than tea, and she is careful to brew it herself.) And, a little bird flits unnoticed under the tables in the dimly-lit and shadowed tavern, collecting 'crumbs' of all sorts.

The Pig's Paunch is busy with chatter. One rough looking showoff from a group of humans are being picky on someone not-human, seeing as they are semi-circled around that person.

It doesn't take long before there's some pulling and punching...resulting in the rough guy sliding over the greasy floor, coming to a halt near Merevelyn's feet with the clear imprint of a large sandal on his face.
The group had calmed down and backed away.

"So much for meditation.....prejudice.."
A figure bows down, grabbing the woozy figure by the face.
"Why, Merevelyn, how are you?", ...he looks back at the bartender, "pardon sir, where do you keep your waste?". Marduk walks off, seemingly "taking out the trash", before coming back with 2 cups of tea.
(the roughy was kind enough to pay for expenses.....)

dot

Wyeth pauses to scan the room after stepping inside the tavern. His eyes fall almost immediately on Marduk, dragging some poor slob across the room by his face.

The oracle shakes his head and chuckles. "Why does this not surprise me?"

Then he spots another familiar face and heads in her direction. "Greetings, Merevelyn. Might I join you?"

Merevelyn replies to the half-orc, "I'm better now. Good to see you, my friend, not that I could miss you. And here comes Wyeth. Please do sit, Wyeth."

"Any news? I've been so engrossed in my many remedial studies -" she gestures to her Pathfinder Chronicles chapbooks - "- that I fear missing the next assignment."

"Thank you. Much the same for me I'm afraid. Becoming an herbalist, let alone an alchemist... it's a lot to absorb. What remedial studies?"

"Matters of arcana, aberrations and oozes, local lore and personalities, the natural world, other planes of existence, religions and undead... The list seems endless. I never had the formal schooling, just family traditions in magic, talent, and knowing who to ask. Unfortunately, when adventuring across Irrisen and then in the sewers, I realized that there isn't really anyone else to ask." She adds in a conspiratorial whisper, "Not that the VCs are all that good at providing information, even when we are in town." "Someday, if I am able, I will run things differently."

Hearing the subtle tick-tock on the floor Marduk looks up with a greeting smile.
"Wyeth, how have you been since that last run-in with the bugbear?"

Wyeth nods. "You're fortunate; I didn't even have that. My... awakening just sort of happened when I was in mortal danger. Saved my life, even if I lost a leg in the process. But where I'm from, you don't let on that you've been graced by the gods. Not if you want to live. It's one of the reasons I left."

"Ho, Marduk! No complaints, and thankfully even some time to exhale, resupply, and get a little studying done. And how's my favorite half-orc monk these days? Still adjusting attitudes, I see."

And how's my favorite half-orc monk these days? Still adjusting attitudes, I see.

"Not intentionally. I was meditating, as far as goes in an inn and they started something. I shall not repeat the entire insults, but suffice to say, it was rude towards half-kin. When they couldn't get me into conversation they wished to fight."

A dark, tall Garundi man opens the tavern door. He wears flowing yellow clothes that are well suited for a hot climate but are out of place in summery Absalom. In his right hand he carries an ashen staff. The man is strongly built.

Clearly visible on his chest you see a wayfinder, carried on a leather cord around his neck. The man hesitates in the doorway, scans the room and then walks up to the bar.

"Speaking of troublemakers," Wyeth says as he dips his head towards the man who just walked in. "That fellow deserves watching. Especially with a stolen Wayfinder dangling from his neck. Haven't met a Pathfinder yet who would display one so brazenly. Brag or taunt, I wonder?"

Marduk looks sideways to where Wyeth is aiming at.
"Or lack of common sense......."

"Thank you for defending my honor, Marduk," the half-elven Merevelyn says with a wink.

"It's rare for anyone to so display a wayfinder. As VC Valsin is so fond of saying, for every friend of the Society there are two enemies. I like the odds more in my favor."

"Who doesn't. Have any of you heard of any new tasks the VC is handing around?"

Wyeth catches a barmaid's attention and motions for a drink. "No, it's been quiet. I'm glad for the chance to study, but I'm getting restless, too. Sitting around isn't why I signed up."

He accepts the ale brought to him with a nod and a smile. "Too, no work means no pay. A local herbalist has agreed to give me a try but I'm barely more than an apprentice, so that shan't be much."

The Garundi waits until the bartender has boiled water and then moves to an empty table with a glass of hot water. At the table he adds some green leaves to the water and then removes a binder from his backpack, which he opens and starts to read.

"Hm, let me try to fish on it."

Marduk stands up with his teacup and walks past the man, coming to a stop next to the man's table.
"Excuse me. What kind of tea is that? I like some tea on its time and i'd like to know of the different kinds of them."

The man looks up at the big half-orc "It's not exactly tea, but an herbal infusion. Tea is made from tea leaves while this is an infusion of mint."

He opens his belt pouch and retrieves some leaves, wrapped in paper. "Here, have some if you want"

Marduk takes the leaves.
"Thank you sir. Ah, you are a pathfinder? Those wayfinder devices are are unmistakable."

"Yes indeed I am. Although you should not mistake everyone who has a wayfinder for a Pathfinder, after all everyone could purchase such a device if he or she has the funds. "

"Perhaps so. Still, it is risky to show it so boldly in public. Not all folk are friendly towards society members and might attack one on sight."

"Even here in Absalom? I would have thought that people here respect the society. Thanks for the warning though. ".

He removes the wayfinder and puts it in his pouch.

"This is my first visit to the city, do you live here?"

"I am staying here for now. My "home" is quite a distance away actually. Ever heard of Vudra?
I'm here with friends who are over at the table there, would you like to sit with us? The lady half-elf is also a scholarly type."

Wyeth keeps an eye on the proceedings, ready to leap in at a moment's notice. "Well, they seem to be talking easily enough for now," he says quietly to the wizard. "Oh, look at that! He's just put it away."

The oracle looks at Merevelyn. "Maybe he's legitimate after all. Do you suppose he's new to the society and just didn't realize?"

"No I have never heard of Vudra, is it a country in Avistan? I must say my knowledge on geographical matters is lacking."

"I am glad to join you and your companions, let me put this away first". The binder is tucked into the man's pack and he picks it and the quarterstaff in one hand, while carrying his glass in his other.

At the other table he puts down his stuff and introduces himself

"I am Kintampo, glad to make your acquaintance"

While walking to the table, Marduk explains abit.
"Vadru, or Vandu as some call it, is a vast peninsula extending from the southeastern section of Casmaron. My way to Absalom has been a long one."

Wyeth ducks his head at the man. "Well-met, Kintampo. Wyeth."

Howdy guys!

I read over the scenario... and I think you all will have some fun :)

On that note, still no reply from Darmut; has anyone gotten ahold of him lately?

I wouldn't at all have guessed him as one to disappear, but Darmut/Broken Prince stopped posting on another game about a month ago, it seems.

"Indeed, well met, Kintampo," Merevelyn agrees. "I think we have an explanation for the exposed wayfinder and your knowledge of the difference between teas and herbal infusions: You come from a place more civilized than Absalom. Here, it is good to stay in a group and watch your back - and watch what alley you are 'inconveniently' routed down."

So we'll recruit another then? We've got 2 frontliners, 2 casters, hybrid or frontliner maybe?

I'll ask from another one of my PbP for a willing accompliss for this mission :)

Kintampo smiles
"Oh yes, my civilization goes back to way before Aroden ascended to godhood. Unfortunately that does not mean that my countrymen behave civilised all the time. In fact a show of strength or allegiance with a strong organisation goes a long way in protecting oneself in my country."

Marduk smiles.

"Brother Saitama would love it there then. He enjoys throwing his muscles as well as battlecries. He's abscent for the moment.
I received a note from him saying he's been called to an Iroran temple to work drilling the newly appointed initiates."

Wyeth raises an eyebrow. "Is he out of the Pathfinder business, then? I was starting to enjoy his company."

"Even with those awful puns," he adds as he downs a swig of ale.

"No, no, not at all.
It's just an assignment. Seems the actual drillmaster fell ill and until he recovers, they wanted Saitama to fill in for him. Something about him being enthusiastic and driven...."

*cue a thought balloon over our heads with flashbacks of all such moments thusfar*

Wyeth snorts. "Yeah, 'enthusiastic and driven.' Let's go with that."

"So, Kintampo. I haven't seen you around, but I'm pretty new so I haven't seen most everybody. You an old hand at this Pathfinder thing?"

Merevelyn raises an eyebrow incredulously. "Brother Saitama wrote a note? Using actual words written on paper or parchment? Made up words, no doubt, but words nonetheless?"

(chuckle)
"I sort of share the sentiment. There weren't any made up words in the note. I'm guessing they took up his message and left out any of his made up words."

"Do you mean that you are also Pathfinders? Venture Captain Baleniir said that it was likely that I would meet some in this inn, but to be honest I was afraid I had to find my way to the Grand Lodge on my own"

Wyeth nods. "We are. Though I'm new to it, as I said."

"I am also rather new at this, I have two assignments under my belt in Osirion and Venture Captain Baleniir thought it would be good for me to do some missions outside of Osirion."

"Ah. I've only recently completed my third. They had me traveling all over, though. Irrisen, Varisia..."

He glances over to the others at the table. "Fortunately I had exemplary traveling companions."

"Places I have only read about, what are your strengths mister Wyeth if I might be so bold?"

He pointedly avoids looking at the peg under the table.

Wyeth shrugs and downs another swig of ale. "Can't say I have any." He cuts a thumb at Merevelyn and Marduk. "These two joke about Saitama but I'm not much brighter than he is. I'd like to think I can fight, but I don't measure up to either of the Irorans and I've paid greatly for some of my 'victories.' The gods saw fit to bestow me with some mystic powers, but I don't understand them and can barely control them."

He leans over conspiratorially. "To be honest, I think it's their idea of a joke. 'This fellow who refuses to bow to any god, let's make him our agent, great fun har har.' "

The oracle sits back in his chair and takes another swallow of ale. "Trying to learn herbals and working towards alchemy, but it's a lot to remember."

"Mind, I'm not down on myself; you asked about strengths. I guess I'm just... well-rounded. But Venture-Captain Obo saw something in me, and I'm getting better and stronger day by day, so..." He trails off, enjoys another bit of ale, then looks at Kintampo. "And what about you?"

Kintampo hesitates and then starts of "I can't say I have a speciality. I am not bad at swinging that piece of wood" he points to his ashen staff "and dabble a bit at magic. I try to combine the two, but so far that has led to mixed results. When it works it is great, but sometimes my spells fizzle when I try to combine them with a good thump at my enemies."

Marduk had just finished his green tea.
"Hmmm. Tasty...but it's missing the fragrance of Vudran tea."
He turns his attention to Kintampo again.
"A caster, Merevelyn here is a talented one as well. Quite the linguist too.

But where are my manners, i have forgotten to introduce myself.
Marduk, monk to the teachings of Irori. Vudran by birth."

A golden-haired individual walks into the tavern, his? odd colored eyes shimmering in the firelight. His black tinted leather armor would help him disappear in the shadows if it weren't for his long, brilliant hair and pale skin.

He looks about the place as if seeking a friendly face, but he finally settles his gaze on an empty spot at the bar and he slips up between two burly types, making his slim, 5'11" frame seem almost frail beside them.

He orders a glass of wine and stands sipping it as he glances about the room, his uncanny eyes, one bright green, one pale blue, settling on each person in turn as if evaluating them, though in truth, his gaze doesn't sit long enough on any one person to really get their measure.

The rapier and dagger at his hip declare his semi-martial nature and he wears them easily as if they have been part of him for a very long time.

Pardon me...but he looks VERY feminine....^^