Once you have been accepted, sign in here. We will start on November 5th and be done by December 20.
And lo, there were dots, and the dots were upon the thread, and the thread was looped into a skein, ,and the skein was drawn from a loom, and the loom was called Fate, and it was read by the Three-In-One, and their eyes saw what was, what is, and what will be, and yet they told naught save for a very few, and those few rarely lived to repeat what they had heard.
-takes a draught of mead-
Nice dotting
As Pathfinders, you have each been invited to participate in the annual Grand Convocation held at the Grand Lodge in the Foreign Quarter of Absalom. The event is supposed to commemorate new discoveries from recent years, celebrate noteworthy achievements, and permit field agents to share information and network with each other and the venture-captains.
Pathfinders begin to trickle in, and you see each other as potentially interesting colleagues worthy of your introduction.
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More wonders again if he’d made a mistake. The Grand Convocation was a celebration, which usually didn’t mean clomping around in full plate armor with your weapon strapped on. But it was also as good a chance to make a few useful connections as he was likely to get, and he wanted to look like the kind of half-orc Venture-Captains knew they could send into tough spots. So here he stood, sweating through layers and layers of metal as he looked for a tavern with a bench thick enough to hold his weight as he downed a few ales.
Hells, he thinks to himself as he continues clomping through the gathering Pathfinder throngs, maybe I’ll see a few friendly faces.
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Hanzo remains at the edge of the throngs of adventurers, his fiery eyes taking in each person, assessing them as a threat, and dismissing them.
All these people... Any of them could be an infiltrator, a threat to leadership here. I hope those in charge of protecting the higher ups are watchful...
His hands stay idly tucked into the bright red sash at his waist, a stark contrast to the black leather tunic and pants, cut to leave his arms bare (save for the bright red bracers on his forearms, and black gloves with red knuckles. Those are the namesake of his order, The Crismson Fists).
Those passing by would give the Ifrit Tien man a double look. His almond shaped eyes, instead of the black pupils one would normally see, instead bear bright orange pupils; spheres that appear to contain moving flames. A strange sight indeed, augmented by the man's pale skin, black hair, and fiery tattoos covering the exposed skin on his arms.
After a few more moments of studying the crowd, he pushes himself off of the wall he had been leaning against.
I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not that people in Absalom seem to have such lax security. The Emperor would have had his bodyguards flayed alive if one of his functions looked like this. Always made me glad to be an Infiltrator with the Order, and not a guard.
His face remains impassive as he moves through the crowd, searching for, and finally finding, a place to order a cold water. His choice location sat him next to a standing half orc, covered in steel and weapons, who seemed to be surveying the crowd with intent. The monk eyes him for a moment, and then places his wayfinder on the counter and motions the bartender over.
A drink of water, please, and if you have any, a simple leg of turkey or ham.
His voice is steady, polite, as one would expect from the cultured people of Tien Xia, and he waits patiently for his order. His eyes catch a tiefling heading toward his spot right as the mug of water is delivered, and he watches the man approach over the rim as he drinks. He stays silent, however, waiting to see what transpires.
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Sereniti sashays into the Grand Lodge grounds with the other hordes of other pathfinders, her movements lost amidst the throngs of people. She has come fully armed and armored, such that it is, because it seemed wise, and she was told to come as she normally travels in case she had to sit for a portrait. I hope I don't get chosen for some portrait. Boring! she thought as she walked.
Sereniti is a bit over five and a half feet tall, at 120 pounds wearing very little. She has platinum hair and yellow topaz eyes. Some find her attractive, and others find her a little strange for that. She wears an agile breastplate, carries a masterwork cold iron longspear, and a crossbow that a spider has built a web in. She wears crossed bandoleers chock full of potions and scrolls. At her each side, is a wand, along with one in each spring loaded wrist-sheaths - for 4 total.
When someone makes a snide comment about her crossbow, she turns to them and says, "Maybe I should dislodge him with a shot at you!" but no one believes her attempt at anger or threat/ He hasn't been there that long - why do spiders pick on me? she thought.
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More gives a big, dumb grin when the silver-horned tiefling steps out of the crowd. ”Thadd! I’m surprised they let yer ass in here.” He looks around, noting the jarring variety of Pathfinders around them, giving the skinny man in black pajamas and the spunky girl near him an unbelieving shake of his shaved head. ”But then, it ain’t exactly like they’re bein’ too discernin’ in general.” He gives the tiefling another grin. ”You like all my fancy new words?”
He claps the tiefling on the back as he sits down on the nearest tavern chair, making the wood creak alarmingly. ”Stuff ain’t started up yet. Let’s grab a drink. On me.”
Every year, the Grand Lodge hosts the Grand Convocation at its campus in Absalom. While the Grand Convocation is ostensibly not a party, it is an opportunity for the Decemvirate and Absalom’s resident venture-captains to express their gratitude to field agents and those venture-captains stationed abroad. The Grand Convocation also serves the practical purpose of encouraging networking, relationships, and shared intra-Society communication. The Twelve are well aware that some interaction between field agents will only ever occur informally, hence the festivities serve to provide an excuse for agents across the Inner Sea to meet and mingle, if only for a week. The capstone event is a banquet with remarks from Marcos Farabellus, the Master of Swords…
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!“
"Greetings, my fellow Pathfinders. My name is Nasreen Tawfeek, and I am so happy to see you have all chosen to attend. If you like, I can show you around as we talk and get to know each other."
"I am from Katapesh originally. From where do you hail?"
As she walks with you, she leads you to a booth where there is a contest of strength - weight lifting. "Please, for those who wish to try, step on up and show us what you can do!"
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"Hi, I am Sereniti," Sereniti says as she waves at Nasreen five feet away. "I grew up in Magnimar, but now I live in Absalom." She looks at the test of strength dubiously (and some might say the test looked back at her the same way).
"I don't think so, I don't do things like this well." She stamps her feet a few times, and finally says, "You must try new things or else grow stagnant.
Her very not-muscular form steps up to try weight lifting, but it is not likely she can lift the bar, let along the weights.
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More gulps his grog as the Master of Swords makes his speech, raising the mug with a wordless salute at the man’s command to enjoy. Then he turns at Nasreen’s introduction, wiping his mouth with the back of a gauntleted fist as some of the others nearby respond.
"Hi, I am Sereniti," Sereniti says as she waves at Nasreen five feet away. "I grew up in Magnimar, but now I live in Absalom."
The thick, gray-skinned half-orc raises his equally-thick eyebrows at mention of Magnimar. ”Oh yah? Which part?” he says with a roughneck kind of friendly, then taps his own chest. ”Mors, from Underbridge. But damn me if I didn’t get out as fast as I could. HA!”
At the opportunity to test the group’s strength, Mors is initially inclined to pass … his natural laziness taking over. But when the girl steps up and impresses the group, he shakes his head. ”Ya just had ta go and make me do it, didn’t ya?”
He hands his mug to Thaddeus with a muttered, ”Don’t spill this.” It’s obvious the two know each other. Then, he steps up to the weight and heaves.
They crash back down loudly, and the half-orc gives the small girl an appraising look. ”Yer stronger’n you look, woman.”
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When Nasreen approaches, Hanzo looks around at the people in his little "tour group".
The motley assortment one would expect from Pathfinders... At least I fit in.
He down his mug, grabs his Wayfinder, and leaves a coin on the table before following. At the mention of the strength contest, he steps up, and gives it a go.
Afterward, he shrugs, and speaks politely with a bit of a sheepish grin.
Brute force isn't always the most effective method of winning a fight, you know.
He hops down and takes his place in the group, giving the next person a turn.
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"Don't hold it against me," the half-orc grunts with an ernest shake of his head. "Buolgun's aint exactly known for bein' good citizens. I ain't seen the old neighborhood for years."
He looks over at Hanzo with another of his ugly, thick-lipped grins, "It ain't the only way, but it can be damn effective." He shrugs and hikes a thumb over at the silver-horned tiefling, "Though I'm always a fan of when Thadd can think of a way to make things easier."
"Ho! Pathfinders! Once again we rise against all enemies, and drink from our cups to the fallen!" A somewhat burly blonde Ulfen man strolls towards the weights.
"I'm nothing like my big brother, but I can give this a go---"
He strains at the weights and then drops it again. "No! That is not for me, friends. I haven't had breakfast yet!" He laughs. "Perhaps after a horn of mead, or three. Hakon, sometimes called Ostogsbróðir. But here I am, out from under his shadow."
"And, I hail from the Broken Bay, in the former hold of Harfargr. A lovely place, if you ever get up there," he says with a twinkle in his eye.
While waiting in line, you also catch wind of a rumor. The budget to maintain
the menagerie has been temporarily expanded for the Grand Convocation. The Grand Lodge is capitalizing on the large number of visitors to present as many unusual specimens as possible.
"Impressive, my friends! But sometimes brains should be preferred over brawn. For instance, these challenges might suit some of you better."
Nasreen leads you by a lecture hall to test your intellect in a sleuthing challenge, and a lore symposium.
This event is hosted in a lecture hall in one of the eastern outbuildings, where several agents have set up a fake crime scene. An audience watches as a blindfolded Pathfinder is led into the middle of the scene. He then can remove his blindfold and has two minutes in which to examine the scene before replacing the blindfold. He then must describe from memory all of the clues and forensic evidence that he noticed to an audience and event organizer.
Just outside, is the lore symposium. This forum is conducted in an outdoor lecture area in the Quadrangle. Agents do not literally compete in this event,
but a meaningful contribution to the panel discussion garners attention and accolades from fellow scholars.
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Hanzo smiles at the crime scene challenge.
Ah, a memory test! Good thing these were such a large part of my training as an Infiltrator!
The blindfold comes off lightning fast to maximize his time looking, and his eyes dart around the scene, taking in each and every small detail before he has to put it back on.
When the Lore challenge surfaces, he offers up his knowledge of common traps and security measures used by nobles in Minkaya, his homeland.
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Sereniti seems a little fearful about being blindfolded around people she doesn't know, even if they are fellow pathfinders, but her comrades have done it, so she must try. The blindfold comes off, and she spends a few precious seconds being relieved before looking around the area. Later they ask her about the scene and she does her best.
She doesn't go over to the lore area demurring, "I don't know very much, and that part of the Pathfinder training I didn't pickup much, boring!
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The silver-horned tiefling steps arrogantly into the false crime scene. When the blindfold is removed, he stands with his hands folded behind his back, only his sharp eyes and head pivoting to take in the scene.
In the lecture area, he (barely) keeps from rolling his eyes before interrupting a Chelaxian pathfinder to correct her ignorance on a few subjects.
You each gain a +2 competence bonus on one Heal, Perception, or Survival check attempted during this adventure.
While blindfolded, you heard some old man discussing local gossip. "The principal discovery of the sky citadel of Jormurdun has been moved to a strange chamber with no corners along the exterior walls, floor, and ceiling. This is to help shield it from strange otherworldly entities. This year’s keynote address is allegedly about the artifact discovered in Jormurdun, the Sky Key."
You also gain a +2 competence bonus on one Linguistics or Knowledge check attempted during this adventure.
After the lecture, a man is discussing various nuances of your discussion, and happens to mention "Arliss Hall is full to the brim with visiting venture-captains from abroad. The building is rumored to mysteriously change its internal layout. The increased comings and goings have prompted it to do so with even greater regularity and many venture-captains have become lost themselves, wandering the hallways."
"Well, I see in the Pathfinder tradition, we have recruited a variety of skilled folks. Well done!"
She starts to walk one way, and then stops. "If any of you are particularly nimble, I hear tell that the obstacle course is fun. Not really my cup of tea, but it is entertaining to watch. Or there is also a trap mastery course, but I only recommend that if you are a locksmith or trapper, because it can be difficult."
An obstacle course designed to test agility is set up near the training grounds, where Pathfinders compete in a timed trial to be the quickest one through the course. A large chalkboard lists the best times and participants.
This trap mastery competition is staged within a spare room of the Mausoleum. Tables are laden with boxes, chests, cutaway sections of door handles, empty sarcophagi, and other common places where traps are concealed. Pathfinders know a trap is present and must disarm it with a time limit (taking 10 and 20 is disallowed). Alternatively, agents can also create or modify a trap to confound their comrades for credit.
Hakon watches Thaddeus carefully, then nimbly executes his own turn through the obstacle course, performing at the top of his ability.
"Whew! Eh?" He elbows Hanzo in his brazen Ulfen fashion. "Difficult! Still better than hopscotch with a unicorn. Ha!"
Hanzo just squeeks in under the wire in the obstacle course, but makes the trap master challenge look easy. Thaddeus scores good marks in both challenges, and Hakon breezes through the obstacle course as if he designed it.
You also heard competitors talking about the Master of Spells, Aram Zey, who was slated to deliver the keynote address but begged out of the privilege, citing his general dislike and disdain for the Grand Convocation as a colossal waste of time and expense. Marcos Farabellus, Master of Swords, volunteered to take his place.
For your performance in trap mastery, you gain a +2 competence bonus on one Disable Device check or Reflex saving throw attempted during the adventure.
Word on the course is that the Decemvirate has spared no expense on this year’s Grand Convocation and has reached out to as many Pathfinders as possible and underwritten some costs when necessary. This is an effort to demonstrate their appreciation to field agents, repair any frayed relationships, and celebrate a successful year.
"Wow! You really made those look easy. Perhaps I should give it a try."
It does not go well.
"Well, I won't be boasting of that performance any time soon. That reminds me, there is actually a boasting contest here! Any of you feel up to that challenge? I mean, really, it can be any story to be told, but every time it seems to come down to just really bad boasting efforts."
She leads the way to the temporary structures west of the front gates, a large “talking circle” has been marked out on the grounds. There is limited seating but plenty of comfortable spots on the lawn. Pathfinders compete to tell the best story. Complete accuracy is optional if the tale is funny or entertaining enough. Experienced Pathfinders are expected to have grander tales. Music or dance is just as welcome if incorporated in the narrative.
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Happy with his contribution in the weight-lifting test, Mors orders another ale and follows the group around, good-naturedly ribbing everyone as they compete.
As they wait for Hanzo’s turn at the obstacle course, he turns to the team. He gestures (with his stein) back towards the menagerie grounds, an area that–even from this distance—you can hear the sounds of all kinds of strange creatures.
”I hear the Society’s been droppin’ all kinds’a coin for more exotic creatures to show off this year.” He takes a deep swig, ”Worth lookin’ around at once we’re done here.”
When they make their way to the boasting circle, Mors finds a seat, giving a kind of dumb-faced excitement to hear the stories about to be told.
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Hanzo takes the stage, and tells a tale of legend from his homeland.
One day, while walking in the bamboo forest, an old, childless bamboo cutter called Taketori no Okina came across a mysterious, shining stalk of bamboo. After cutting it open, he found inside it an infant the size of his thumb. He rejoiced to find such a beautiful girl and took her home. He and his wife raised her as their own child and named her Kaguya-Hime. Thereafter, Taketori no Okina found that whenever he cut down a stalk of bamboo, inside would be a small nugget of gold. Soon he became rich. Kaguya-hime grew from a small baby into a woman of ordinary size and extraordinary beauty. At first, Taketori no Okina tried to keep her away from outsiders, but over time the news of her beauty spread.
Eventually, five princes came to Taketori no Okina's residence to ask for Kaguya-hime's hand in marriage. The princes eventually persuaded Taketori no Okina to tell a reluctant Kaguya-hime to choose from among them. Kaguya-hime concocted impossible tasks for the princes, agreeing to marry the one who managed to bring her his specified item. That night, Taketori no Okina told the five princes what each must bring. The first was told to bring her the stone begging bowl of the Buddha from India, the second a jeweled branch from the mythical island of Hōrai, the third the legendary robe of the fire-rat of China, the fourth a colored jewel from a dragon's neck, and the final prince a cowry shell born of swallows.
Realizing that it was an impossible task, the first prince returned with an expensive bowl, but after noticing that the bowl did not glow with holy light, Kaguya-hime saw through his deception. Likewise, two other princes attempted to deceive her with fakes, but also failed. The fourth gave up after encountering a storm, while the final prince lost his life in his attempt.
After this, the Emperor of Tien Xia, Mikado, came to see the strangely beautiful Kaguya-hime and, upon falling in love, asked her to marry him. Although he was not subjected to the impossible trials that had thwarted the princes, Kaguya-hime rejected his request for marriage as well, telling him that she was not of his country and thus could not go to the palace with him. She stayed in contact with the Emperor, but continued to rebuff his requests and marriage proposals.
That summer, whenever Kaguya-hime saw the full moon, her eyes filled with tears. Though her adoptive parents worried greatly and questioned her, she was unable to tell them what was wrong. Her behaviour became increasingly erratic until she revealed that she was not of this world and must return to her people on the Moon. The gold that Taketori no Okina had been finding had in fact been a stipend from the people of the Moon, sent down to pay for Kaguya-hime's upkeep.
As the day of her return approached, the Emperor sent many guards around her house to protect her from the Moon people, but when an embassy of "Heavenly Beings" arrived at the door of Taketori no Okina's house, the guards were blinded by a strange light. Kaguya-hime announced that, though she loved her many friends on Earth, she must return with the Moon people to her true home. She wrote sad notes of apology to her parents and to the Emperor, then gave her parents her own robe as a memento. She then took a small taste of the elixir of life, attached it to her letter to the Emperor, and gave it to a guard officer. As she handed it to him, the feather robe was placed on her shoulders, and all of her sadness and compassion for the people of the Earth were forgotten. The heavenly entourage took Kaguya-hime back to the moon, leaving her earthly foster parents in tears.
The parents became very sad and were soon put to bed sick. The officer returned to the Emperor with the items Kaguya-hime had given him as her last mortal act, and reported what had happened. The Emperor read her letter and was overcome with sadness. He asked his servants, "Which mountain is the closest place to Heaven?", to which one replied the Great Mountain of Suruga Province. The Emperor ordered his men to take the letter to the summit of the mountain and burn it, in the hope that his message would reach the distant princess. The men were also commanded to burn the elixir of immortality since the Emperor did not wish to live forever without being able to see her. The legend has it that the word immortality became the name of the mountain, Mount Fuji. It is also said that the kanji for the mountain, 富士山 (literally "Mountain Abounding with Warriors"), are derived from the Emperor's army ascending the slopes of the mountain to carry out his order. It is said that the smoke from the burning still rises to this day.
Afterward, he politely bows and takes his seat.