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[ooc]Apparently level 7, same tier at least. I'll have everything ready to go Tuesday. But usually the opening is just RP anyway.
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Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus strides up to the large crowd and claps his hands together for attention. “Welcome Pathfinders, one and all! And welcome to our traveling venture-captains stationed abroad as well our honored guests! I am Marcos Farabellus, and on behalf of the Decemvirate, I welcome you to the Pathfinder Society’s annual Grand Convocation! I shall address all of the attendees later this afternoon to announce some of the Society’s greatest accomplishments over the past year and our plans for the future. In the meantime, I invite you to stroll about the campus, meet with your peers, and enjoy all the sites of the Grand Lodge. We have set up numerous challenges and contests so that you can show off your skills or sharpen them if need be. I’ll send around ushers when it’s time to assemble for the speeches on the north lawn. Enjoy!"
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The big Ulfen watches Marcos Farabellus like a man sizing up another for a fight. He'd met the previous Master of Blades, Vonran Vilk, and had saved his life. He'd heard that his name was in a Chronicle somewhere because of it, and he wondered sometimes if they'd gotten the spelling right.
After the announcement, he wanders the grounds, looking for good food. He was always hungry - it took a lot of food to sustain a man of his size. To most in a civilized place like Absalom, he appears to be a typical savage brute. His head shaven, his beard braided with small metal charms, he wears a fur-rimmed cloak draped across wide shoulders. Around his waist a many ringed thick leather weapons belt bears a battered longsword, club, and a couple mismatched daggers. The remainder of his trappings are strapped to a pack over his shoulder - a half-dozen javelins in a large quiver and a notched wooden shield. His one possession of any apparent quality or value is a large bastard sword engraved with arcane runes on the hilt.
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A halfling in polished breastplate and a holy symbol of Sarenrae greets the party. "'Ello chaps! I am Cornelius Bunbury, a servant if her merciful light, Sarenrae."
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Your old familiar halfling Venture-Captain makes his way over. "Ah! Some agents from the Flaxseed Lodge! Excellent, it is good to see our group represented here at the Grand Lodge! Well don't just stand around, come! There is so much to do; have some fun! Have you seen the menagerie over there? Agents are taking turns trying to tame the most exotics beasts. There are others trading stories over here and I just came from the lore symposium myself. There is an obstacle course or weight lighting challenges if there are any Bold Striders among us and some of the agents have set up a fake crime scene in that outbuilding over there if any of you want to try your hand at sleuthing. Or if you need practice with traps, they've set up a workshop over that way! Well don't just stand around! Show them that the Flaxseed Lodge has the best agents to offer!"
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A young halfling darts and dodges around the gathering, trying to get a look at everything on the grounds. Oh! A trap workshop! Sleuthing? I wanna try that too! An obstacle course? What fun! They should do this sort of thing more often!
Quiven stops to dig into his haversack, quickly pulling out what he intended to find. Whew! All this running around makes me hungry. Anyone else want a banana?
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Aod heads first to the obstacle course, leaping and spinning his way through it. He doesn't give his all to it though, treating it as a warm up to ready himself for something else.
Making his way to where tales are being told, he finds a clearing and begins a battle dance. He starts by stomping in time to a marching rhythm. Normally he reserved these for his people, and danced in memory of those lost or still oppressed in Irrisen, but this dance was different, dedicated to a hero of the Mendevian Crusade. It was called the Last Stand of Sir Ilivan.
Dun. Dun. Dun...
As he moves the pace of the tempo increases, becoming like the sound of a galloping horse. Leaping across the open space Aod thrusts one hand forth like a lance.
Dundundun... Dundundun...
Spinning, he parries and attacks at all angles, then recoils as if wounded by a dozen blows. Just before falling he throws back a foot and catches himself, then surges forward again. The dance repeats as he spins off in a new direction, throwing himself again at unseen enemies. He reels from further injuries and finally staggers, collapsing to the floor. A hand thumps beside him, in the rhythm of a beating heart.
Dun-Dun... Dun-Dun...
His hand slows, and he lies still.
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Kilian follows the barbarian through the obstacle course, not quite as quickly but nevertheless setting an impressive pace for someone in medium armor.
He then looks around for fighting practice of some sort, trying in particular to find some relative novices to discuss team tactics with. "Remember, sometimes you have to wait while the diplomats do the talking. Always be ready for a fight, though. And hit first and hardest when you need to."
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Quiven tries to pick up new pointers in the trap workshop (Trapfinding T10 = 28) and hopes he can learn about disabling them as well (Take 20? for 43 if allowed). He then hopes to learn little things about anything that the scholars might be able to teach him (if I can T10 in Knowledge my highest would be a 15). If available, Quiven tries to hone his dexterity and sleight of hand (T10 for 28). He then takes his turn in all of the more athletic events (T10 in Acro for 29).
Afterwards the halfling will make an attempt to entertain all of his new friends over a drink with some song and dance!
Though slightly off key after an exhausting day, he proves that he is still light on his feet even after a few drinks!
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Cornelius will try to inspire others with a moving reading of Sarenrae's mercy.
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Ander moves along the crowd, enjoying the sights and sounds of the Convocation. Seeing Quiven, He nods to the halfing. "Master Quiven, how are you? I haven't seen you since....that affair in Sandpoint. You appear to be doing well. I see your partaking in the games. I think I'll have to try my hand at a few."
Moving first to the trap mastery contest, Ander digs out a a set of tools and tackles the challenges laid out for him.
Feeling he could have done better, but able to disable a fair number of traps, Ander moves on to the next competition.
Seeing the obstacle course, Ander decides to try his luck.
Ander crouches into a sprinter's stance, then darts of the line, leaping hedges, scurrying across a narrow beam over a mud pit, belly crawling under a set of spiked chains, then swinging on a rope across a small pond. Crossing the finish line, Ander feels he couldn't have ran the course much faster.
Once he has caught his breath and drank some Ole' Snakebite #5, Ander heads over to the sleuthing competition, sure he will do well.
Led out to the "crime scene" Ander's eyes dart over the various clues, easily picking out subtle hints, and memorizing the most minute detail.
After that, Ander makes his way over to the lore symposium. At first, Ander just sit, enjoying listening to all lore and knowledge discussed by the myriad Pathfinder, but eventually he works up the courage to step out and give his own lecture.
Ander begins speaking. "Good afternoon, I am Ander Jotum. Today I will be discussing a topic I'm calling, [i]Ancient Shory Arcana with a Special Emphasis on the Blending of Martial and Arcane Arts....."
Feeling his lecture has had a good reception, Ander wanders back on the grounds, looking for familiar face and the opportunity to meet new agents as well.
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The Andoren follows Ander, and after the magus is done steps up. "I'm Kilian fan-Vaylen, and I'd like to talk about some of the more common creatures you might meet below ground. I'll also provide some advice on how to deal with them. Audience participation is encouraged."
Well, that could have gone better.
Aod's moving performance gets all the nearby agents talking about what a wonderful piece it was. "These are the types of agents the Decemvirate is celebrating this year," one notes to his friend while looking on. "I hear they really spared no expense this year."
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Kilian's expertise on the obstacle course is rivaled by none and the rest of the challengers look on in desire of his skill. An older agent, nearing retirement age, recounts, "Boy, I guess the Society's success at Nerosyan a couple years ago and at Jormurdun recently has really captured a new crop of Pathfinders, all the best in their expertise. The halls of the Quadrangle have not been so full in many years."
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Quiven proves his mastery over locks and traps and deftly disables challenge after challenge as young recruits take note of his technique. His knowledge of history is not quite up to the scholar's standard but he comes after Killian and raises the bar on what is possible in the obstacle courses.
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Cornelius finds a group of clerical scholars who are discussing fine points of theology and philosophy. He impresses them with several good points and one mistakenly calls him "Venture Captain". After correcting the man, he apologizes to Cornelius, "I thought for sure with your knowledge that you must hold rank, I am sorry. There are just so many venture-captains from abroad that I have never met before who have made it to the Grand Convocation this year. I hear that's because there are interesting plans for the year ahead and they are all jockeying for consideration from the Decemvirate."
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Ander works with his old friend Quiven at disabling locks and traps, showing the younger agents his tricks. He then moves on to excel at several other competitions, particularly impressing the crowd at the sleuthing competition in which he is blindfolded and led into the middle of the lecture hall where in two minutes Ander memorizes as many details about the forensic evidence that he can notice. Ander recounts far and away much more than any other agent has yet today and even makes the correct accusation that the chef murdered the lady of the house. "This isn't the only hall that's been altered for the proceedings," someone lets slip as Ander completes the competition. "Arliss Hall is full to the brim with visiting venture-captains from abroad. The building is rumored to mysteriously change its internal layout and it has been doing so even more with all the comings and goings so that some of the venture-captains have gotten lost and are still wandering the halls! Haha!"
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An announcement booms out over the grounds to alert the agents in attendance: "Pathfinders, please get settled. All campus-wide events are closing. All venture-captains and field agents are invited to gather on the north lawn for refreshments and the keynote address in several minutes."
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Aod approaches Quiven after his song and dance act.
"Nice footwork. The singing though.. Well, not sure if that was a brave attempt, or comedic genius." He chuckles and offers his hand in greeting. "Name's Aod. Saw you over at the obstacle course earlier. I'm guessin that's your specialty? I saw a guy go through it earlier in medium armor. How 'bout we find him and compare notes?"
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With Quiven in tow, Aod presses through the crowds in search of Killian, finding him in the Lore Symposium listening to Ander's lecture. Distracted by the man's knowledge of the arcane he holds off on introductions, and misses the chance when Killian steps up next.
Aod winces at his attempt and sidles up to Ander. "Gotta give him credit for getting up there." Aod grins at the magus. "You're a hard act to follow, my friend." Extending his hand, he introduces himself. "Name's Aod. I think we share some branches of study. This is... What's your name again?" He asks Quiven.
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Ander smiles and extends his hand to Aod, shaking it. "I am Ander, and this is Quiven." He says, smiling at Quiven. "Quiven and I adventured together in Varisia, a very long time ago, or at least it feels that way."
Ander nods to Aod. "You study the mixing of martial and arcane arts? Excellent! It is always nice to meet another practitioner. When we have time, we should exchange some spells!"
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Aod's head whips around and he drops into a defensive crouch as invaders, explosions, and chaos erupts around the Grand Lodge. He's experienced a siege before. He fought in the Crusade.
He didn't expect such violence would ever come to a place like this.
"Let's go." He draws his bastard sword and follows Ander.
The northwest part of the Grand Lodge campus contains many vital areas, including a few that are sensitive and protected continuously. It is also more heavily wooded which has slowed the systematic search of this area and your help is appreciated. You spot Venture-Captain Trotter ordering agents about and he shouts out to you, "You lot! Starhall! Quick!"
The outside of this large keep was designed with Azlanti architecture in mind. Two wings extend from the center structure, with a domed tower at the end of the east wing a smaller patinated bronze dome over the center hall. Starhall serves as an observatory, library, and museum for otherwordly and extraplanar objects and lore.
Inside the main entrance is a library with several display cases of objects recovered from Numeria, as well as a curator's desk and a staircase to the eastern tower.
You enter from the south to find that invaders have already seized control of Starhall. When you enter you see two owl-like humanoids in majestic robes searching frantically through the scrolls and books, although they have adopted defensive postures as you entered. A long-necked bird stands poised behind them. "What is this place? What is the year?" one of the owl-scholars asks when you enter.
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Ander stops in his tracks as he sees a type of humanoid he's never seen before. Shaking his head as if to clear, he nods in agreement with Kilian, then asks. "What are you doing here? Are you apart of the foreign exchange program."
Turning, he whispers to Kilian. "Do we have a foreign exchange program?"
Aod identifies these owl-people as syrinxes. From lofty monastery-cities entrenched in soaring cliff sides and high mountain valleys, the syrinx seek to bring peace to all lands that fall within sight of their marbled spires. Erudite and aloof, the owl-like scholars embrace art, philosophy, and nebulous faiths, seeking to distance themselves from a history of barbarism and ruin. To this end, they seek to enslave all lesser races, especially those without wings. Their elitist culture rests upon thousands of backs in an elaborate hierarchy of slaves. Directly below the syrinx are the strix, a race they magically modified in the distant past to serve as warriors and slave masters.
"We were looking for a star chart or some other astronomical calculations," one of the owl-men explains. "We thought we might extrapolate the passage of time and our relative position on Golarion."
The other speaks up, "We are aware of the battle. We have no desire to participate in the mayhem. The Aspis lied to us to get out of the Tapestry. And while we were indeed able to escape with their help, we have no desire to help them with their petty revenge plots."
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Aod recognizes the birdmen, but has little time to inform his companions.
"Aspis?! Tapestry?" Aod doesn't understand what he's hearing, and doesn't like it either. "This ain't the time to hunt down star charts. We gave you the date, and this place is the city of Absalom. Not sure what else we could tell you. Now, explain, quickly. What are the Aspis plans for this attack?"
The syrinx look to each other first before responding. "Yes, we have been in the Tapestry for a long time, untold ages. And while that date and name mean something to you, they have no meaning to us. We need something more verifiable to confirm the date according to our ways so that we can know how long our society has been trapped."
"The Aspis came through the Tapestry, allying with as many groups as they could and promising freedom. We could not pass such an opportunity. The things in this chamber are more immediately interesting to us than their plans of destruction though. If you help us find the information we need we will leave this place immediately and seek out our ancestral home, if it still exists."
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Kilian lowers his guisarme slightly, still alert for an attack. "If there are others like you who'll leave with you, then let's get you on your way. It'd help if you could tell us more about what the Consortium promised, and who else came through with you." He looks to the others. "This might stop more of the attackers than we could easily defeat by force of arms. I don't have the skill to help them, though--can any of you?"
"They promised us a way out of the Tapestry. But in return they wanted-or perhaps promised to some of the other groups-mayhem. We are not sure how many others were given this promise but by now you have witnesses the chaos outside and the massive army that was set loose here."
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Aod's hand itches to draw his sword and send these intruders off quick, but he knows when to choose his battles, and that not all can be settled with steel.
"Fine, we'll help you, but you'd better hold up your part of the bargain."
Aod looks to the documents in the area and tries to recall anything that would satisfy the birdmen' needs. As he does he makes sure to get close to his companions and whisper a warning to them.
"These birdmen are called syrinx. The ones I've heard of don't think much of other races, like to take them as slaves. Stay alert.
After some time researching, you are able to find some relevant star charts and maps to help the syrinxes. "Ah! Here it is. . . Lung Wa. We must journey there and we will need to keep this book to help our journey. Grant us ownership of this history and we will be on our way."
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"Before you take it, let us write down what book it is, so we can tell the Society what happened to it."
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