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Gr 17
Wager 25
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"The Dawnflower commands your surrender!"
+1 Keen Merciful Adamantine Scimitar Power Attack Bane
[dice="Redemption" attack 1]1d20 + 12 - 2 + 2[/dice]
[dice="Redemption" attack 2]1d20 + 7 - 2 + 2[/dice]
Enforcer:
If successful, shaken for number of rounds equal to damage dealt. If critical, frightened for 1 round and then shaken for number of rounds equal to damage dealt.
[dice="Redemption" attack 2]1d20 + 7 - 2 + 2[/dice]
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Desmond dashes south and gives Sahrek a light tap on the wolf's rear. "Keep up the attack, boy!"
Sahrek steps up to the bad man and gives a vicious snap with his jaws.
But the wolf's teeth find no purchase.
Meanwhile, Desmond sets himself into a better position to stick an arrow in the archer that got Varg.
"Got your back, brother!" the ranger cries to his barbarian friend.
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Green 17
Purple
Wager 25
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Green
Purple 18 - 19 = -1
Wager 25
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Pending Chelsea doesn't incinerate the guy, he'll spill his story while his men either bleed out or (more likely) get stabilized (given you'se guyses regular MO.) Let me know what you're doing about the bleedy-outs.
He accepts any bindings offered in an attempt to not join the fate he assumes him men (and one woman) will meet. "Right. You said you know something about this bastard already. Stop me if you've heard this before, but Sabas must have been hired by House Disaren to recover something in Evondemor a few months ago or something. Never reported back. Well, my brother and I were assigned to the duty of figuring out where he went, or more adequately, where whatever the Disarens actually wanted is."
"Baran's hasn't come back, and it's been a damn week. Have you seen him? We used to look a lot similar, but he's gotten the upper hand on appearance after beating me enough times at the bar." He describes him in greater detail if requested, though matches nobody you've seen before (except, you know, this guy you're talking to. But he said they look similar, being brothers and all that.)
---
Green -10 -11
Purple -1
Wager 25 damage
Bad begins to walk among the unconscious, casting stabilizing orisons, starting with those closest to death.
Bad stabilizes them all, given he starts with the one that almost died on their second hit (which he can easily determine, thanks to demon powers.) One is obviously unconscious from nonlethal, though it almost wrapped around to lethal. I'm actually double-checking what kind of damage Bane does to see if he's actually dead...
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To reduce the time taken to stabilise the wounded mercenaries, Luisila assists Bazresh by casting Stabilize on any of the fallen.
She will then address the mercenary leader.
"You, ser. You do realize we share a common enemy in the jester, Sabas? All this fight has done is give him more time to get away. We have not seen anyone who looks like your brother, though we can certainly keep an eye open for him and render him any assistance if we do encounter him."
The priestess' tone is civil but it is also cool enough to remind the mercenary which side won the battle. "In return, can you tell us who hired you to find the jester? Do you know anything about him or the magic vase he carries that could aid us in a fight with him? Is the vase the item the Disarens actually want? Are you willing to share any healing magics you might possess with us - seeing how you started the fight that injured one of our party members."
"What makes a man turn neutral ... Lust for gold? Power? Or were you just born with a heart full of neutrality?"
”Right, but imagine sitting here for more than five-dozen moons, waiting as backup or something for some guy who’s been said to be able to infiltrate Evondemor for something. Probably good at hiding and lying, looking for cursed artifacts or something, if my common sense is workin’ properly. The first group of folks that walks by mouths off, makin’ me think that the jester doesn’t really appreciate his cover being blown. Disarens wouldn’t hire anyone to acquire somethin’ if they didn’t think you could hide in a crowd.”
”But, yeah, blood money? Hell, all this stuff’s on loan from my employers, anyways, and if the Jester skipped town, then my job’s done. No skin off my back if you take it. Not like the Disarens won’t when we don’t come back with the Jester or this urn you mentioned or whatever anyways.” He gestures back with his head, to where his soldiers were. ”There’s a chest in the back is full of money for bribes and the like. Unless you got a skilled Unbearded with you, it’s pretty useless though. My brother still has the key on him. Why do you think I’m looking for him so badly?”
Combat Gear potion of cure serious wounds; Other Gear half-plate, +1 guisarme, cloak of resistance +1
Gear chain shirt, masterwork composite longbow with 20-ish arrows ,longsword
”Wait, you’re telling me we sat out here waiting for a silly bastard to steal some dead guy’s ashes?!?”
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Luisila hands Varg the Cure Serious Wounds potion.
"Can anyone open the chest?"
"Yhour friend ish right abhout the man whith the vhase. Lhook fhor ahny Kelish whith an urn-sihzed vashe."
She then attempts to answer the man's final question.
"If by 'container for ashes' you are referring to the Alabaster Urn, then I suspect so."
"However, Tribune Bourtze also refers to the item as a vase."
"This has confused me as I would pronounce this item vahrse."
"I suspect something has been lost in translation, as the Taldane I was taught by my adopted parents has Old Chelaxian roots. (I was often chastised by my Calistrian superiors for my use of superfluous 'u' s when translating holy texts from their original Elven into the common tongue)."
"I can only pray this confusion has not allowed the jester more time to make his escape."
The man shrugs, "I dunno; some nobles get pretty big tin cans for their dead. Referring to one as a vase might be accurate, depending on what's inside. You know how nobles like their places big, eh? Taldane is a stupid language. Dwarven's simpler; one word per glyph. No weird double meanings."
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Varg, nods to Lu, takes the potion and quickly drinks the same.
He shakes his head, and pulls another potion from his pack and drinks that as well.
Varg's wounds magically close, but it takes him a few moments to catch his breath from the physical exertions he has undergone.
Ready when you are, Des.
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Luisila gives Cleaver another tap or two with her CLW wand with a *wink* before replacing the item in her wrist sheath and re-tensioning the spring.
"Des, if you want to take half a dozen of my blunt arrows, so you have the option to do lethal bludgeoning damage - go for it! I can top up my ammunition supply with arrows from the mercenary archers."
"Otherwise, I am ready to go."
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Omrax, looking at the prisoners and thinking...
• When in doubt, I may force my enemies to surrender,
but I am responsible for their lives.
• I will never refuse a challenge from an equal. I will give
honor to worthy enemies, and contempt to the rest.
.
"So what is to be the fate of these misguided souls? It seems they learned the error of their ways and are on the road to redemption. I just need you to apologize to my friends and then I am ready. I am sure some constables would be willing to help you get home if you need us to call the authorities."
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"Yeah alright - sorry for mouthing off to ya and starting this whole thing. But really, you should've been a little nicer to the lady," Desmond chastises Wager.
Desmond walks up alongside Omrax. "As to this lot? Do what you will, Omrax. Leaving them for the law seems good enough for me."
Desmond takes a few (6) arrows from Luisila. "Thank you kindly. I keep forgettin' to pick up some of these. I know that they're better than regular arrows when fightin' skellingtons and other undead."
@Des "Yeah, yeah; me too. This whole situation is just spiraling down into the Abyss faster than I can even read it. Even if I wanted too, I couldn't go after the Jester alone." He looks back to the unconscious bodies. "Can you at least leave me a shovel or something to bury them or something? I figure I can't just let them sit out and rot here or get found by a bobcat or wolf or something..."
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"I thought my friend Baz here," Des nods his head at the tiefling, "went through and stabilized the injured? Did we outright kill any of your men?" The ranger lets out an exasperated sigh.
"I ain't got a shovel for ya, but can't you just pile up a bunch of rocks and some of this rubble over them? That should help keep off the scavengers."
"Oh. Is that what they were doing? I ain't blue-blooded enough to know how to... divine (verb) things... or whatever."
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The group, having had no luck finding the trail of a single man with a large, fancy pot (despite the odds and talent on-hand,) reaches Loraiard unharmed further just past the witching hour as the fog ponders the end of its short life. Loraiard is a small town, especially compared to Evondemor. The walls, far more worn by time, and no guards on their peaks. The gates are open, as if oblivious of any outside threat. A few irrigated small farms lie directly outside the walls, with a few of their workers starting up for the day.
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What is THE WORD Ernest always claims is the answer to any problem? Is it Magic Missile? Stumble-gap? Pit?
Luisila hums an old tune about a Pathfinder’s life to keep the party’s spirits up.
♪♫ This is a life of illusion.
Wrapped up in trouble,
Laced with confusion.
What are we doing here? ♪♫
She stops suddenly (hopefully Chelsea or Baz don't run into her) to check the surroundings for any threats or traps …
… before having a look at the ground for any footprints made by pointy-toed slippers, possibly with bells attached to them.
Luisila finds no immediate threats (especially with this fog that should dissipate a few hours after sunrise.) She does catch a trail of roughly 6-8 adventurers (and a canine) though none of them are comedicly-cobbled.
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As the party approaches the town, Desmond notes the walls and gate. "Small town - guess they don't feel any need for strong security."
He takes a few strides ahead through the gate to get a better look at the town itself. "It shouldn't be too hard to find the jester here - doesn't seem to be many places for him to hide. Let's ask around about the Disaren family - I'm sure something will turn up."
Desmond looks around for a tavern.
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“If Varg can’t find anything, I agree some tavern diplomacy might be in order, Des. I wonder if the House of Disarens has an official representative based locally.”
Luisila pulls her red hood more tightly over her hair and hefts her wicker basket before *snapping* her fingers. “Say, I wonder if VC Valsin’s grandmother Khenankantra, a devotee of the Dawn Flower lives in this town? I guess I can ask one of the locals the way to grandma's house. Khenankantra might know something of the jester. An escort including an axeman and a wolf might be handy.”
Chelsea takes point on the diplomatic search, though the populous at this moment really is either not awake or starting their day of work at the moment.
Luisila goes incognito, suggesting things, as Omrax leads.
Desmond finds a place named “The Everflowing Urn,” the closest thing to a moderately-decent place to drink in the area, though it is closed up for the night (though a few stragglers/beggars linger outside on (and in one case, under,) some wooden benches.)
Varg, while more skilled than Luisila in the art of the hunt, finds no unique, humanoid tracks heading into the city. He does notice a few different sets of horses, carts, and carriages have entered and left the city in the past few days, but such is the standard fare of a town on the plains.
Meanwhile, the Dawnflower faithful(s?) avoid the innards of the lands that wish their faith torn from Golarion.
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