You are either taking part in a card game in the backroom of a tavern in Absalom known as the Grog Pit or just happen to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Suddenly the backroom door shuts and the game’s mysterious host appears—the enigmatic Osprey, an agent of the Pathfinder Society with unclear objectives likely known only to the Decemvirate. Two strangers accompany the lean-featured Chelaxian—a tall man wearing dark robes and a black mask that conceals his face, and a grizzled, prune-skinned gnome, with a slight facial palsy. With his typically cordial but informal manner, Osprey requests everyone be seated, and offers all a mug of Absalom’s worst grog.
“My fellow Pathfinders, I appreciate you making yourselves available on such short notice. I trust the accommodations here are sour enough to keep others from our business. As usual, I prefer to get right to the point.”
Osprey slams a large sack down on the table, a high-pitched yelp bursting from within the bundle as he does so. He quickly reaches into the sack and drags out a tiny pestilent-looking creature by the throat. He beats its head against the table a few more times, and yells, “Settle down before I get careless and snap your damn neck!” Then he pins it down against the table, where it flounders weakly, a bony clump of glinting scales, hollow-eyes, and leathery wings. With his hands still locked on the creature’s throat, he raises his eyes, looks across the table and says, “So, what do you know about demons?”
|
A tengu keeps to the shadows near the wall, minding the room and the entrants as he does so. He's been here a while, minding his own business and watching the shuffling back and forth with feigned non-interest.
It would seem that I've been misled on the meeting place. No matter. We'll have it sorted out soon enough.
He attempts to plumb the depths of his memory for information about demons...
|
|
A rather small tiefling stands in a corner of the gambling room. He seems to observe the scene with a wary eye. If most of his body is hidden by an ample and dirty cloak, you can see his face, which is ugly and has a grey-red color. You also notice that his teeth are very sharp.
You can see a long tail that unfolds itself from time to time from under the cloak. The only weapon he seems to carry is a longbow.
Yet another person full of his own power. The society seems to attract them. Where are the true heroes, only fighting for freedom?
The tiefling notices a tengu that tries to hide himself in the shadows but doesn't show anything on his face.
"A demon indeed, Osprey. But why do you need to smash its face on a table?" Voros' voice is low and rasping, and he now shows a look of annoyance on his face.
To the others in the room, he simply says "I am Tiller Voros, servant of Milani."
|
"Demons aren't my specialty, to be honest. I've sliced a few, but I haven't been able to really tell one from another. I'll be sure to take appropriate notes on the topic as we are in the field on this one," the little halflings pipes up. She was branding two kukri in their respective sheathes, and had a gleaming coat of armor on.
From first look, she didn't seem the typical happy go lucky halflings. She was more serious and focused, it seemed.
|
Taking a moment to set his massive backpack down, Thor allows the others to discuss their views on the foul creatures while he seems very intent of grabbing something from within. Something large. With a little effort, he pulls out a keg of some sort, props it up on one shoulder. Placing his massive hammer down gently, he takes a drinking horn from his belt, and uses it to tap the keg, filling the horn.
"Anyone?" he says, offering before recapping it.
Taking the whole drink, he will pour another (again offering to anyone else interested) before continuing.
"Ah. Demons. Tricky. If you can get one, or more likely a bunch in an honest fight, they are worthy of the fighting. But mostly they tend to run and hide. Some are all about order and some perverse sense of justice. Others just like bloodshed and hurting folks. Some thrive on spreading lies and breaking up families and friends. Not a one is worth not killing on sight."
|
|
"I heard this place was one of excitement Blackthorn. a rough looking woodsman says to his large wolf friend at his side. "Let us check it out for some mead for you and for me." and he walks in with his wolf companion only realizing his friend gave him the name of an establishment ill suited for the woodsmans temperament.
As the aasimar and the wolf turn to leave the back room of the tavern they are blocked by the incoming pathfinder.
Darro stands off to the side listening to the discussion and then peers forward when the small demon is revealed.
"I know some things about them having dealt with their kind in the past. I do know I loathe many of their kind." he tells the pathfinder.
Looking at the others he says "My name is Darro, a pathfinder woodsman who is friend to Blackthorn here. It seems my friend Jagger sent me on a mission he was supposed to do. Regardless we are here to assist in any way we can."
Osprey seems a bit off put that Pathfinders of your rank would know so little about demons, but he perks up a bit when Thor finally speaks. At Voros' words however, he quickly turns dour. "This beast would feast on the bones of your mother while you watch dying on the floor before he helped her across the street. I see no reason to treat it with any kindness."
Voros and Darro quickly identify the demon in question as a quasit once Osprey settles it down with a firm grasp. "Alright, quasit. Tell my friends your 'important' information... Err, hold that thought." Osprey says aloud as he seems to remember something, with that something being the elderly gnome that has been standing near you guys the whole time and his black cloaked human friend.
"This is Xersus Abergris, an expert demonlogist and historian." Osprey offers as the gnome bows and offer his hand to each Pathfinder present. Once handshakes are over, Osprey signals that the man should take the empty seat next to him.
The cloaked man steps forward, not bothering to remove the hood and begins to speak. "I represent the Decemvirate. I’ve come to oversee these proceedings as they are of personal interest to me. Osprey and Xersus shall speak on my behalf, unless I find it necessary to intervene. As far as you are all concerned, you have never seen me. Do I make myself clear?"
As you agree, Osprey nods to Xersus, who then addresses you himself. "One of the problems with demons is their complete lack of organization. We sages have very little to work from when investigating and cataloging them. Devils of course, keep lengthy records, but with these things," he pauses to disdainfully poke the quasit, "these things couldn’t tell you the name of their own mother. This makes the job of studying and cataloging them very important. Many years ago, I used to work with a cleric and expert demonologist named Baldimar Trud. Trud was also a revered cleric of Cayden Cailean, and guided all of his research to assist in the fight against these infernal brutes. Still, the church had few available funds for his elaborate studies, and thus he sought out and received funds from other investors, including significant patronage from the Society. Over the course of several years, he built a research laboratory and compiled an extensive archive. Unfortunately, we have seen none of his work since he died before revealing its location."
"After Cayden’s Hall burned down the last time, I thought his works gone forever. Though a few days ago, I came upon this little fellow going through my personal notes—notes concerning my old friend Baldimar. I don’t believe this is a coincidence and strongly believe this fellow shall soon tell us why he was in my possessions. After that, I’m sure Osprey has a plan for you."
Osprey nods with a wink. "Of course, I have a plan. I always have a plan. Now tell us what we want to know, demon!" he says as he squeezes hard on the creature's small body.
The demon bellows in pain. "ALRIGHT! I recently heard my master's voice again!" it starts. [smaller]"Graz’ith Ur Maurgith! He was missing for centuries and now it seems that he is back to ruin my fun! I don't mind helping the Pathfinders but you have to free me from his domination! I quite enjoyed not having a master and I don't intend to have one anymore!" the little demon pipes up.
Osprey seems satisfied and releases the creature from his grasp. The demon realizes his precarious position and flutters above the table, acquiescent to the Pathfinder leader in front of him. "I heard his voice deep inside the hall to the drunkard god!"
Osprey looks on, impressed that the quasit didn't flee immediately. "Take the little beast with you to the Hall of Cayden and find the high priestess Saphira. She will aid you. Also, make sure you watch him. He might be lying." Osprey concludes as he abruptly stands with his two compatriots. "If you need help and get into trouble over your head, send word for me immediately." he says as they leave the Pathfinders in the card-playing room with a new quasit friend.
|
|
Looking at Osprey in the eye, and refusing to avert his gaze, "Sorry, I think I might have missed the part where you explained how we needed the little bastard alive for this?"
"But, I tend to agree with one thing it said. These demons," referring to the little Devil in front of them, not seeing any difference between them "do require proper study. I have oft found," holding up a hand for a moment to place the mug and keg down gently, then simply calling out Hammer!", causing his massive hammer to literally fly into his open hands, ". . . the two-handed descending arc method of squashing the most effective." as he holds the hammer above his head in both hands to demonstrate.
|
Irina smiles broadly and rubs her hands together gleefully. "Cayden's Hall you say? A fine establishment, if I've ever seen one! Though we might have to deal with more than mere demons there. Last time I was there, I lost a tooth..."
She gathers up her belongings, and looks expectantly at the rest of the party. "So, are we leaving or what?"
|
|
"Little one, this is not the first time I have had joint cause with someone of different moral values. All beings should be free from the bondage of their captors, and if you provide us what we need, I will speak on your behalf. Not having liberty is the harsh edge of tyranny."
The tengu will glance around, then bow. "Wei Ji, student of the Master of Masters, sometime expert on acting as shield-bearer as well as the ways of stealth. We should probably get moving, then?"
|
|
"It has the choice to try that, in that case. And if it tried, then we'd have to do what we have to defend ourselves and others. But having the choice to do things... well, folks can surprise you, in a good way."
The tengu's tone is rather pragmatic, but optimistic as he addresses Shel's concern. "All who exist should have a chance to chose their path. If it leads astray, well, life has a way of educating on such things, does it not?"
|
|
"Be advised friends, as we continue down this path Demons and their like will use whatever guile they possess to keep their true intentions hidden from us. Believe not their words. Devils can be trusted to an extent, Demons... not so much. They will ensare the weak willed into their plans unknowingly..." Darro reminds the others as they journey forth. Grimtooth trots by his side eyeing the quasit suspiciously.
Cayden’s Hall is a massive, open fest hall of rough-hewn timbers. The latter have been replaced many times over the years thanks to their predecessors being burnt to cinders when the large, celebratory bonfires often burning within the wooden structure mixed badly with the very large and very inebriated crowds frequenting the establishment.
You reach the front door that is flanked by two guards in Cailean colors, wielding rapiers and shields, but the rapier is sheathed and instead a mug of ale rests in each of their hands as you pass. "To the Lucky Drunk!" they yell simultaneously as you pass between them, their glasses raised before they take a big swig.
You enter the Hall and find a long hallway flanked on either side by rows of barstools facing parallel oaken bars that run the length of the hall. Massive kegs set into the walls behind the bar allow clergy members to quickly address the needs of their patrons and petitioners. About half the taproom’s stools already seat drunken revelers at the long oaken bars. The boisterous patrons hoist their tankards, raising slurred toasts and praises amid the tall tales of wild adventure.
One guard whose face is beet-red seems to be manning the inside of the door greets you. "Greetingsh. Thish ish the Hall of the Lucky *hiccup* Drunk! How may we asshist you?"
|
|
On the walk, Shel tells the others what she had heard about the history of the hall. "Cayden’s Hall is a large temple in the city of Absalom dedicated to the Accidental God. The hall sits in a section near the center of the city known as Azlanti Keep overlooking the ascendant court where Cayden himself entered on a drunken dare, touched the renowned Starstone, and transformed into a deity. Clerics reputedly built the temple on the site of the last drinking hall Cayden attended before he ascended into godhood, though the structure itself has burnt to cinders over a dozen times since it was first founded. Overseen by High Priestess Saphira, the hall serves as an eternal place of celebration and is at all times filled with revelers and adventurers."
As they enter the Hall, Shel approaches the guard. "Is Saphira busy today? We need to borrow a few moments of her time."
"She ish busy at the moment, perhaps some more information would be benefihcial. She ish the head prieshtessh after all." the drunken guard states.
Perception:
+17 against Traps
|
|
Shel made sure that no one else was listening to the conversation the group was having. If no one else was in the hall, she notes that "we are here looking for some information. We have questions about Baldimar Trud. We are hoping we might be able to locate some of his thought to be destroyed notes."[/b]
Diplomacy
Irina and Voros enter the hall as the former joins in the revelry. A man with a hefty beard strides up to her at the bar. A hand-and-a-half battleaxe is strapped to his back. "AH-HA! A stout woman from Nirmathas, if I recognize the crest!" the man states, overloudly. "I am Jorgan, a direct descendant of the Mammoth Kings! But not too direct, else I'd have to sit me ass on some throne up there!" The man pulls up a chair and grabs another mug of ale, now holding his newly acquired mug and one that is still half-filled.
Voros wanders around and finds that his attitude towards people in the intoxicated state might only further sink as everyone is either drunk or on their way to being drunk.
|
|
Wei will note that there doesn't seem to be much in the way of a 'coat/weapon' check on the way in, and work on the idea that 'an armed deity's followers are politely armed'.
Not that it will make much difference *when* the brawl breaks out -- it's a bar, there's folks drunk, it's bound to happen -- but he's ready for it.
He's a bit more sober in his approach, though he does attempt to make his way into a nice corner to listen for tidbits and generally 'blend in' and relax while doing so. If he's offered a drink he'll take it, but he'll nurse the sucker so he's not getting toasted.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The guard still stops Wei Ji as he reaches for his manhood, ready to piss in someone's beer. He is clearly interested in the large group of individuals walking in at once, armed to the teeth.
"Can I helpsh you, fellow reveler?" he asks as he steps up to you, mug in hand.
---
Shel strides past the drunk guard and has a mug thrust into her hand by a stout dwarf and three nagaji lift the woman into the air and they carry her around to the tune of "Ale-de-weiss", a celebratory song of wheat beer. Conveniently, Shel's brew is a wheat beer from the Strongkegs.
As she is lifted, the song erupts.
"Ale-de-weiss..."
"Ale-de-weiss..."
"Every morning you greet me"
"Tall and white, clean and bright"
"You look tasty with meat t' me"
"Bottom of th' flow"
"Fetch another to keep the status quo!"
"Drink and flow forever..."
---
|
|
Darro will enter but he will be wary since this is not his kind of establishment or scenery letting the others take the lead. If Blackthron is allowed to enter he will enter as well, if not Darro will command him to stay outside. Darro will move to a corner and order a drink but not drink from it until he is sure the events in this bar are legit.
"Ah-ha! Fellow followersh of the Drink! Fetsh yer ale from the barsh!" he says as he slaps the tengu on the back, clearly diffused by the answer and gives an odd look to the quasit. "All are welcome t' the Hall! Keep 'im in line and you'll get no trouble from us!"
The quasit catches the eye of the revelers, but it doesn't seem like anyone is going to start any fights. Oddly enough, brawls don't seem common to this pub. Nothing looks broken and everyone looks oddly happy.
A sign hangs over each of the two bars. Drunk, not drunkards! You get the implication that being drunk is acceptable. Being blasted off your gourd is not.
The guard will inform Darro that "hish wolf" is not allowed in the pub.
The guard yells back to Thor that the high priestess is otherwise occupied and likely won't be available for visits with journeying clerics today. You get the distinct notion that a more viable or substantial answer about your desire to speak with her would be needed to get access to her.
---
You spend the next thirty minutes revelring and carousing. Songs of valor and bravery are told as are those of crushing defeats. Ale is drank by nearly all with the odd exception of elvish absinthe or Chelaxian red wine for what looks to be party games.
There is one game in particular that Wei Ji has been watching that he still doesn't understand. Four Tien men sit around a card table with one dealer and look over their cards as the crowd watches with hushed voices whispering. "Shing haisabu shing!" one of them yells as they push stacks of chips into the middle. The dealer immediately deals out five mah jong tiles to the individuals before the another Tien man that is playing rolls three dice in the center.
One of the Tien man scowls and shoves his chips over and storms away from the table, likely cursing his fortune loudly in Tien. The dealer points to a large spinning board that rattles as each sector is passed before it slowly stops on a number. Another man curses his luck before slamming his head on to the table and weeping openly.
Finally, one man screams out "SHING!" and shoves his chips in with the other man doing the same, yelling "Haisabu!". Three girls walk forward and hold out clenched hands and the first man who yelled picks one of the hands. She opens it and reveals an orange jellybean. "Shing!" The man stands up triumphantly as he yells and the other walks away in disgust. The dealer pulls in the chips and places what looks to be nearly ten thousand gold pieces on the table in neat stacks before sliding them to the apparent winner.
---
Shel is carried around for a while but the men quickly move on, intent to be apart of some other glorious evening as she quickly catches up with Irina at the bar, who is clearly being hit on by the Kellid.
"Another beer for this fair lass!" he beckons to the barkeep. He turns to Irina and claps her on the back. "Ye drink faster than half me mates, but none are as fast as me!" he bellows as he pounds a liter of beer in under 10 seconds.