GM KApp's - The Jester's Fraud (Inactive)

Game Master Keith Apperson

A Pathfinder Society Scenario designed for 5th to 9th level characters (Tiers: 5–6 and 8–9).

Life in Taldor is fraught with peril, especially for the crumbling noble houses of the Taldan countryside. One such house, the Bourtze Family, has fallen on hard times and they've informed the Pathfinder Society that, in exchange for a small sum of money, they'd be willing to part with a treasure trove of lore about Qadira's Grand Campaign, the 300-year invasion of Taldor. On your arrival, things quickly turn for the worse and instead of evaluating the worth of a few scraps of historical paper, you must instead retrieve one of the most dangerous artifacts in the empire.

Written by James F. MacKenzie

A red robed unarmored Cleric of Nethys walks into the Lodge's bar, sits at a quiet table in the corner, and orders a glass of wine.

He pulls out a spellbook, ink and quill and begins scribing down a scroll into his book. 2 other books the size of encyclopedias rest open to various pages next to him.

That evening, at the bar known as Luscious Lucius's Love Laboratory, Gunani is chatting with a couple of patrons while passing some time. He looks down the bar to see Officer Serpico chatting up a lovely lady, and Detective Hill creating yet another concoction, taking full advantage of alchemical enhancements that Lucius has cooked up for him.

"So, I was saying, back a couple of months ago, I was on assignment in Katapesh, where I came across a merchant who had the most amazing curatives for sale. He had found a way to brew a beer that was enhanced by healing magics!"

A gaunt humanoid with a well trimmed bead and mustache wanders into the smoke-filled establishment. He quietly walks over to a lone stool on the edge of the bar and takes a seat. You hear him mope to the bartender as he pours over the wine list.

"I don't want to be trouble, I just want the red wine you had last night. You're out? That's unfortunate. I suppose I'll just have the Chelaxian vintage." Tears well in his eyes like this is the saddest thing he's heard all day, or maybe somebody kicked a puppy.

A muffled voice emanates from the Dhampir's scabbard, "I don't know why you sit and mope, I haven't had a sip of wine in years and you don't hear me complaining."

The party members each receive a missive in the usual Grand Lodge style -

"Report to Appraisal Room 4 in Skyreach at 2030 tonight. Prepare for a boat ride to Oppara in the morning.

Aram Zey"

Even the writing looks impatient.

Marženek looks hearbroken as he speaks to his glass of wine, "Why didn't they just let me shatter that stone? A month back on the job and he's back to the same missives. What's the point of doing anything?"

He downs the last of the cup and packs up his belongings to ensure he's there on time. Shortly thereafter, Marženek sits on a soft couch outside the former Master of Spells' office. He looks forlornly at his shoes.

Gamin speaks, "It's not your fault you're no good at what you do Marženek. Maybe if you'd swing me occasionally things like this wouldn't happen to you."

A Vudrani woman, bastard sword and longbow across her back walks towards Marženek. A bandolier slung across her chest holds several vials; her necklace of small steel chain links holds a round shield shaped medallion. Her fluid motion and ease with armor are easy to notice.

She stops before the door to appraisal room 4. She glances at Marženek.

Kn: Local or Religion take 10 plus Inspiration!: 1d6 ⇒ 4 DC 29 to identify Marženek

"You are a dhampir, are you not? I have never met one before. I am honored to make your acquaintance. My name is Satine Fenix. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"Don't bother lady, you're just going to make him cry." a voice whispers out of nowhere.

Marženek waves his hand towards the Vudrani and lets out a huge sigh, "Thank you so much for noticing that I'm here. Yes, I am half dead. No you can't touch him. Yes, I am Marženek Koliadnko, speaker for the Pathfinder dead. No, I haven't killed anybody myself. Oh, and just ignore him."

The red robed cleric of Nethys steps into the room at 2029. He observes the dour dhampir, as well as the human warrior.

"good evening. I am Draa Faer, favored of Nethys. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"What do you mean 'ignore him'? I barely get any human, or otherwise interaction from you. I have to get my jollies somewhere. Ooooh, a wizard. See, why can't you be impressive like that. At least I'd know I was just going to be ignored before being picked up."

Draa Faer eyes up Marženek, and the strange voice, attempting to discern the source.

The most burninating half orc anyone has ever seen enters the room.

A voice announces:
"Sir Vargh Mor'Targh, of Varisia."

A brief sound of flames is heard in the putter halls, and the same, now parched voice says, "Sir Vargas Mor'Targh of Taldor."

A small monkey scurries into the room, jumping from table to chair to shoulder. He jumps onto Marzenek's shoulder, and looks down at the scabbard, as if waiting for the sword to do something. "Eep?" he asks, right before the door opens again.

A Varisian man in full plate, tankard in his hand, makes his way into the room. On his shield, his rapier, and his armor is repeated the iconography of tankards. If it wasn't clear to anyone about who this man worshiped, it would become so in a moment, as soon as he opens his mouth.

"Sweet Barleybrew, Gilligan, leave the poor man alone! Can't you see that he is miserable enough without you bothering him?

Gunari makes his way to the dhampir being besieged by the curious monkey. He pulls another tankard off of his belt, and with a few words in praise of the Drunken Hero, it magically fills with a cool, sweet beer. "My apologies for my little buddy. He sometimes gets a little exuberant. Please take this Caydensbrew as a token of my sincerity."

"Oh, yes introductions. My name is Gunari Maximoff, priest of the Accidental God, Cayden Cailean. Is anyone else thirsty? I have another tankard or two, and a pitcher but that might not be enough for all?"

Marženek looks up at the Varisian, "No thank you, beer always makes me think of the sad times back at home. If you had wine, perhaps. Something to drown the sorrow of needing to assist this arrogant bastard once again. I tried, I really did, but they made me save him."

Marženek looks like somebody has kicked his puppy.

Again the voice speaks, muffled as if it's surrounded by thick leather, "By the Iomede's Beard's Sword Marženek take the drink. The Gods only know you need to lighten up!"

Hearing the sword speak, Gilligan climbs down the bard, and reaches for the sword's hilt... cautiously, as though it might bite. He looks to Gunari for a moment, and then up to Marzenek, and asks again, "Eep?"

"fascinating. An intelligent artifact! Such a curious object i have read much on. What is its name? Have you explored its potential? Please do tell!"

Aram Zey strides into the cramped chamber, his withering glare boring into anyone except Marženek who dares to meet his gaze. One of the smaller rooms in the Grand Lodge’s Skyreach tower, the room is nearly filled by a large table on which lie tarnished funerary brasses and heaped parchments, leaving scant room for occupants.

“I’m pleased to see you all here,” says the Society’s cantankerous retired Master of Spells, his chilly expression contradicting his words. “The Society needs its most capable members on this task, which is why you're travelling with the Dhampir.”

Unrolling a massive map of Taldor, he continues. “A rare opportunity stands before us. A Taldan noble named Makarius Bourtze has sent inquiries to Oppara and Cassomir, seeking buyers for a trove of lore about Qadira’s Grand Campaign against Taldor. Bourtze is the Tribune of Evondemor, a small town some six days’ journey from Oppara.”

Tracing along the chart, his finger points out an isolated village on the Tandak Plains. “Your mission is to visit this backwater, review the offered items, and acquire them if a reasonable price can be arranged. While we can offer gold, I’d like to instead suggest several fine sculptures in trade. They depict well-known Taldan heroes, including several of Bourtze’s ancestors. Since his line was once quite distinguished, I’m optimistic that they’ll interest him.” Aram hands over a bundle of carefully drawn sketches depicting the statues.

“Frankly, we considered sending a less experienced team, but Bourtze’s motives make me uneasy. The man’s wife was a scholar of ancient magics who recently died in some sort of magical accident. If something in the collection caused the mishap, we fear the Tribune might try to unload it on an unsuspecting stranger!”

"Your ship leaves for Oppara in the morning. Also, take this," he says, handing over an envelope to Marženek. "In the case you can't negotiate well enough, that will allow you access to gold from the Abadaran's in Oppara."

No briefing questions, though you may make Kn(Nobility) or Kn(History) as you prepare for travel.

Pre-briefing

Marženek looks to the monkey, "I wouldn't touch that if I were you little one." Looking up to Draa he pulls the blade out of it's scabbard. "His name is Gamin, used to be the Misforged - now the Reforged. He's my only friend, although I'm sure he'll argue about that one."

"Satine, shall we take some time in the Library to research our mission?"

During the course of the research, Draa will consult as many books as he can, cross-referencing Satine's research.
Auto-assist on both kn: rolls.
After each of Satine's initial KN (which i assume is a take ten with my assist), I will use Cleric domain Memory power "Recall" to have him roll a new knowledge check within a minute with a plus 5 insight bonus and my plus 2 assist.

Gamin lets out a huge grateful "aaaaaaaaaaaaaah" as he's pulled from the scabbard, "You sir do not let me out nearly enough. And when you do you ignore my full potential. I am a blade, meant to cut into the deadliest of foes. It's not right you always hand over my potential. It makes me feel so...so...naked. And no Master Koliadnko, I am not your friend, you ignore me, and leave me locked up in that leather prison far too much. Let me tell you....mrhrhmrmrmhr"

The voice is muffled once again as Marženek quickly stuffs him back into the scabbard for the briefing.

Post-Briefing

Marženek shrugs as he takes the papers from Zey. He lets out a very quiet, "Just one word. They could have let me just utter one word."

Looking to his adventuring party he looks sullen, "Well I guess I'll just wait over here while you do research."

Gunari moves back with Marženek, knowing that research isn't 'his thing', and again tries to hand the sullen bard the beer once more. "Let's let the brainiacs do their thing, and we'll just relax. I am sure we'll get plenty of action later.

"So, is it true that the Ratman saved our former Master of Spells from certain doom? He was saying something about that just the other day, when I was tending bar at The Love Laboratory."

Marženek looks only at his shoes and not Gunari as he pushes away the beer. "Just what I need, a depressant. I think I'm fine without it." He looks at Zey and scowls, "Yes, the rat is one of the ones I blame for this travesty. That was a terrible mission. I had the perfect opportunity to save us all forever and they ruined it."

At the mention of the word 'Love Laboratory' though Marženek flinches. "And if you see him again, you remind him that referring to it as 'Lichloved' is not appropriate in any language."

Gunari shrugs, and downs the beer he offered Marženek, after pouring a small amount onto the floor in honor of The Drunken Hero, and a slightly larger portion into a small tankard for the monkey.

Naturally, the two Knowledge skills I don't have.

arg!

Seeing his research partner knows nothing....
kn:nobility: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31
kn:history: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (3) + 13 = 16
kn:history, recall: 1d20 + 13 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 13 + 5 = 26

Marženek silently looks up after hearing Satine complain quietly searching his memories for any information that may be relevant.

Kn: Nobility: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11
Kn: History: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26

Draa is able to find very obscure records of the Bourtze family - records that indicate that multiple family members have suffered from bizarre disasters going back many, many years.

that's it?!

After an exhaustive search, Draa stops by the Broker's office and signs the final purchase order on his Wizard tower.

"Shall we depart then?"

Hilariously, that's all that's offered. Feel free to take your time if you have purchases or roleplay to do.

With final purchases out of the way, the team can depart for Oppara.

The journey passes uneventfully, with no encounters more unpleasant than Oppara’s customs officials. After Oppara, well-patrolled canals carry you past merchant barges laden with foodstuffs. After leaving the canals, you enter a part of the central Tandak Planes filled with decayed roads winding past forlorn villages.

Two more days pass before Evondemor looms through the evening mists. All around you, naught but a ghostly realm of fog. A muddy ditch and lichen-encrusted palisade guards the village perimeter. A gatehouse is perched overlooking the road.

Light sources and marching orders please.

Wayfinder

I don't mind being in the front. We just need someone else do the talking.

wayfinder
keep me in the middle please.

Marženek gets visually more cheery as you begin the journey. By the end of the rain-soaked day traveling past nearly abandoned villages he looks like he's at home, even sparking up a few conversations on the nature of death, and telling a few nearly funny tales usually ending in a tragic end.

As we approach Evondemor, Marženek speaks up once again, "At least the weather is nice here and the wall seems sturdy."

I have darkvision.

I'll march near the middle of the order unless people want somebody that can take a hit in the back.

Oh, and GM - I don't think we're visiting the Crypt of the Everflame.

False Life: 1d10 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

If we are single file, I'll bring up the rear.

Mor'Targh sticks to the middle of the group, his wayfinder unlit as he feels it unnecessary compared to his dark vision. However in the cold rain he's bothered and starts talking about warmer times, "Once, when I was a boy, staying at my family's summer palace on the Sellen river. The day was much like today, so to keep warm I made a small.. -ish fire beneath a really old tree... that was fun..." he loses himself to memory, then finishes, "Well until the Druid got my parents to make me plant trees every day for the rest of the summer for accidentally burning down a quarter of the local woodland, including a 1000 year old tree, of course."

Satine listens to Mor'targh's story with mild interest. His family's lineage is very... unique. I thought the Inner Sea area was very much prejudiced against half-breeds. Goes to show what money can do in this cold miserable place.

"Did your family use the newly cleared forrest to plant crops? The ash would have made the soil fertile for wheat or oats. Or were the druids too short sighted to realize that in the wild death begets life, even a forest fire?"

Gunari will take point, and can be the face... he's pretty good with talking, which is good, because he sees pretty much anyone as drinking buddies. For light, he has his wayfinder. He does consider that he could cast continual light along the way, but likely not on an adventuring day. He also has a very good AC, flatfooted or otherwise, and can take a hit.

"Sounds like you were a rambunctious lad, Mor'targh! At least you got to know your parents. Not that I really missed out, as we Varisians are very good at the village is your family... even if the village is a bunch of wagons, and we are traveling from place to place, constantly.

"Anyone thirsty?"

Gunari has left Gilligan back at the Grand Lodge to raise havoc.

Marženek looks at Mor'targh, "I heard about that fire; ten-thousand acres burnt. Hundreds of woodland creatures lost their lives. The tales tell of the screams that could be heard for miles as the animals fled or burned alive, some falling into the flame, others climbing up the burning trees in a fruitless escape. In the story I heard, there was a small village near the river that burned to the foundations. To this day nobody knows if the town was inhabited, but the locals say it was. They also tell the tales of ghostly voices you can still hear whispering from the rubble. A good story. Unfortunately, I stopped telling it because I used to get beer thrown at me for telling it." He looks listfully at Gunari clearly lost in thought, "I guess they like you better."

A muffled voice speaks, "Of course they like him better. He's not you."

Gunari rummages through his pack, and pulls out a bottle of wine that he had purchased for just this occassion. He looks gleeful to see that his planning had come to fruition.

He takes a tankard, opens the bottle with a flair, using Cayden's Churchkey. He pours half of the bottle into the one tankard, and rest into his.

"Here you go, Marženek! I was ready for you. I am sure you cannot turn this down!" he says, handing the tankard to the dhampir.

Upon making landfall, and preparing to leave the docks, Draa Faer suggests "we should ask about the location of the Bourtze estate."

He also casts extended Mage Armor. Endure Elements every morning after preparing spells and praying.

Travelling down the road, 2*2 or wider is likely possible.

After a few moments of waiting, a light pours down from the guardhouse and a voice shouts down.

"Hey, you lot! There's no armed bands allowed in town without the Tribune's say-so, so unless you're planning on walking right past, you'll need to hold out in the Devil's Fork Inn for the night, until he can see you." The woman's voice carries through the night with only a slight shake of hesitation to it. You can see her glance behind her, then look back at you. "If you so agree, we can let you in."

"Well, then, if those are the rules, then we shall have to abide by them, of course. We were actually planning on meeting with the Tribune, so this all works our fortuitously for us! How is the beer at the Devil's Fork Inn? I am sure it is quite passable, and I would expect we could get a bowl of some stew, or a haunch, or something? I am sure it would be quite fine!" Gunari says, not letting the guard get another word in.

"Which way to this fine inn, anyways, my friend?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (8) + 18 = 26

Marženek stands in the drizzle and fog, droplets of water dripping from his wet, matted hair. "It's okay, we don't want to be of any trouble to you. We're just antiquity traders looking for a good deal. If there's room at the inn that's okay. If there isn't, we can stay out here too in the rain. It's cold and wet, but we're used to it by now. I think we'd prefer a hot meal though if you'd let us in.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 19 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 19 + 1 = 35

Antiquity traders? That's much better than murder hobos... except wasn't Capone an antiques dealer...

Mor'Targh smoulders to the side of the party, quite moody after the travel in the rain. "Yes, if you'll let us in I'd gladly get away from this weather. "