A Pathfinder Society Scenario designed for levels 1–5.
The Mendevian Crusade draws heavily on the Pathfinder Society’s resources, and unless the Decemvirate can secure the assistance of generous patrons, the society may not have sufficient capital both to fight off the demonic invasion and to prepare its expedition to a lost historical site within the Worldwound. Upon hearing that the daughter of an eminent and wealthy of citizen of Sauerton has gone missing, the Pathfinders rush to her aid in the hope of earning her father’s goodwill and support in upcoming endeavors.
Written by David N. Ross.
This game is by invite only.
A large and composed human hangs from the doorway doing pull-ups at a precise and unwavering rhythm. Two seconds up, two seconds down, the cycle seems to go on for an excessive amount of time. The hulking meat-head, shirtless and glistening in sweat, is covered in tribal skeleton tattoos. They are quite the loud statement of his Skoan-Quah heritage and he does seem to notice any other presence.
After doing this workout for 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9 minutes, he finally drops down and dons the loose fitting shirt of a martial artist that was on the floor by a half empty backpack of minimalist camping equipment.
Then Rateliff finally looks up and scans the room.
Lyonel watches with a furrowed brow from behind his tankard of ale while the hulking anatomy diagram does his workout. I'll know right where to put my arrows. Dumb oaf. When he sees a server he points to his empty glass and slides the exact payment amount to the edge of the table. After he finishes another drink, Lyonel stands and goes outside for a piss behind the building and to look up at the moon.
As if this town ain't rotten enough, can't even see the damn stars.
The sun rises over Absalom.
Noor sits; her legs crossed, elbows tucked close to her waist. Her hands clasped together in her lap, palms up and open to the approaching dawn.
Her lips move in silent prayer. Closed eyes open at the exact moment the sun crests over the horizon. A smile crosses her face as she greets the dawn, confident it was her voice Sarenrae heard that caused the sun to rise.
Her eyes close again. Exhaling, content.
Her head hangs as she completes her morning prayers. May the Dawnflower bring peace to this world, healing to the sick, and compassion to the wicked. I am the Sword of the Dawn. It is my blade that cleanses the world of evil. May the Rough Beast sleep eternal for He shall not return as long as I draw breath in this world.
A short quick breath and Noor finishes. Her head rises to the sunlight; the warmth cascades over her face as her grin becomes a smile; a smile she knows well. Her mouth opens as if to let in the young rays of light. A long exhalation escapes her lips and she opens her eyes to the new day full of life and righteous energy. May Sarenrae bless this world she thinks before standing.
Breakfast is a simple meal of bread and olives, which Noor washes down with lemon tinted water. Noor admires the Sun's ability to warm her naked body. Just another of the Dawnflower's gifts.
She pulls on her clothes before donning her armor. Noor's friends always envied her ability to wear heavier armor and excel while on horseback. Just another of the Dawnflower's gifts was how Noor always explained it. If they only knew was what followed in her mind.
The short rap at the door brings Noor out of her reverie. A summons. She thanks the Dawnflower for the opportunity.
Noor hopes she is worthy.
Finishing the cleaning of his equipment from gnoll bits, Ale' sits back, admiring the once again gleaming image emblazoned upon his custom fitted breastplate. A gauntleted hand wrapped with briar, the symbol of his patron The Golden Bulwark, has been a part of his life for as long as he can remember. "Finally, the last stench of gnoll is gone from my gear" Ale' mutters to himself. It's difficult to make a good impression when smelling foul. “None of my comrades were killed, I was even able to foster redemption for another, so...mission successful!”
Having completed his gear check, Ale' proceeds to his small collection of books. His father/mentor instilled upon him the virtues of a body and mind in harmony: “Learn what you can, a strong arm is good, but having an educated mind can show you that the sword isn't the only answer.”
Later, a knocking comes from his front door, “Ale'! Are you home?” The voice seems familiar, Ah yes, one of the pages from the Pathfinder Society. Ale' walks over to open the door, “Is there something I can do for you?”
Morning light streams in through the stained glass windows of the Cathedral of Aroden in Almas, where Venture-Captain Brackett sits behind a large, antique desk replete with hairthin lines that mar its surface like nearly healed scars. He scans a handful of papers before speaking to you and the other assembled guests, among them the no-nonsense wizard Wystorn Telfyr and Major Colson Maldris.
“I recently received news of a kidnapping in Sauerton, up in the northern wine country. Thalia Andares, heir to the Sauerton Red wine fortune and daughter of Consul Tercio Andares, vanished during the Silverglazer Sunday celebration and has not been seen since.”
With a meaningful look, Maldris catches Brackett’s attention, and the two nod in understanding as the major contributes. “Tercio Andares is powerful and widely respected; not only has he been the mayor of the large town for many years, but he is also a strong voice in the Andoren military—even for a consul. The Sauerton Red winery has made him extremely wealthy, and his financial support could be a considerable asset to the Pathfinders’ important work in and around the Worldwound.
He seems uninterested in foreign affairs, though, perhaps because it’s politically safer to focus on domestic matters. Even so, he is known to help those who help him.”
“I appreciate the summary, major,” says Brackett. “I am convinced that the Andares’s gratitude would do much to refill our war chest for a struggle that is unlikely to end quickly.
When you track down Thalia, as I trust you will do quickly, it is important not only to the Pathfinder Society but perhaps to the whole world that you request funding for the military campaign against the Worldwound. Of course, convincing Tercio to contribute troops and military aid would be even better, but aim for finances first.”
With a sigh, Major Maldris picks up his tricorne hat and prepares to depart. “I would stay longer, but I must make final preparations to travel,” he states in a quiet voice. “While I hope that the Andares family agrees to help the society, I am also wary of this political practice of mutual backscratching. As all of you are in Sauerton—especially those who care for this fine country—remain vigilant for signs of short-sighted corruption and abandonment of Andoran’s founding principles: freedom and democracy. Follow what you believe to be the best course of action, as I will not be available to advise you. Nonetheless, I would appreciate any reports of corruption after the situation is resolved.” After sharing a quick handshake with Brackett and a nod of farewell to the rest of you, he departs, closing the door behind him.
Telfyr breaks the moment of silence that follows by reporting, “My scrying indicates that the young Andares is being held in a building with high ceilings and once-elegant adornments in a style popular in this nation before the People’s Revolt. The structure seems to have sustained extensive fire damage which has not been repaired. Thalia is alive and unhurt, at least for now. She was reading a fresh copy of the essays of Alysande Benedict when I saw her.”
Brackett begins to bring the briefing to a close by concluding, “We have transportation ready to take you to Sauerton as quickly as possible. When you arrive, present this letter to Consul Andares before you begin your investigation. It introduces you and offers the condolences and assistance of the Pathfinder Society. Not only is this proper etiquette to announce your intentions to the mayor, but Thalia vanished from the Andares manor. Someone there should be able to make sense of Telfyr’s visions."
Telfyr frowns at Brackett’s diction. “Scrying, Brackett, is diff–“ “Alright, yes, scrying,” the venture-captain concedes as he pushes a sealed letter across the table. “Introductions, rescue operation, then negotiation for funding and possible military support. Make any questions quick; you’ve got a boat to catch.”
Rateliff eyed the room of other Pathfinders while the officers talked, 'So quiet, they must be scared or intimidated. A larger group then I'm used to though. Some resistance must be expected out there..' He stares at each of the others, sizing them up, lingering a bit longer on Lyonel. 'Dirty scamp.'
Finally turning to Brackett, "Thank you, Venture-Captain." His deep voice booms. "I have a few things I'll need to get from the quartermaster, but nothing I can't pick up quickly on the way to the ship. Is the weather to be cold?" Rateliff intends to keep this meeting terse, from what he gathered the mayor of the town seems to have all the information they're going to need anyhow.
Before the briefing begins, Ale' admires the various works of art depicting the tenants of the now fallen god, Aroden. What would humanity be like if Aroden had not disappeared, and if more believed in his ideals?
"The Worldwound is not a pleasant place to be, and I know the fighting is indeed dangerous, so if we can bring additional funding and materials towards that effort...it shall be done!" Looking around at the rest of those called as well, Some of them seem rather green, but as I was once in that position, it is my duty to make sure they survive, for who knows what great deeds may not be accomplished by their absence.
Ale' turns to Brackett, "As to the matter of the daughter/heiress, what more can you tell us about her, associations, family, and the like, as well as the Vineyard and its operations? Is there someone else with whom we could inquire of further details?" Ale''s golden hued eyes seem as if they could pierce even the hardest of minds. "And what of this supposed corruption? It has been my experience, so far, that those with lots of money did not earn all of it honestly... Ale' lets his voice trail off at that point.
After Bracketts reply, Ale looks to Telfyr "What are these Essays you mentioned? That seems a very specific thing to identify and mention."
Knowledge, diplomacy/gather info, sense motive
At the last possible moment before being late, Lyonel enters the cathedral and scans the room and its inhabitants like a hawk. Lucky me, get to spend some quality time with the big oaf from the other day. He takes a seat at the edge of the room and listens to the briefing without bothering to look up from his boot as he picks rocks out of the tread with the tip of his dagger.
After the others have finished, Lyonel speaks up in his dry, bitter drawl. "Well, let's get too it then. Miss privilege ain't gonna save herself." He snorts then removes a bone tobacco pipe and matchbook from his pocket, strikes the match and takes a puff. With the pipe on his lips and smoke cascading out his mouth and nose, Lyonel mutters "What sort of monster would force an innocent girl to read? I'll not just sit by and tolerate such cruelty."
He stands and pushes on the seat with the back of his knees so it squeals on the stone floor. If he's got an army why in the hells doesn't he send his own to fetch her back? Well, who gives a s##* so long as he pays. This rich old fart better be willing to open up his pocketbook and his wine cellar.
A withered looking being of short stature moves ever so silently in behind the larger man in the room. If he will be late to his first briefing for his new founded employers he might as well make it look like he had been there the whole time. His dull, almost colorless eyes look about the room, sizing up his team. His mentor told him that while the Pathfinder Socity was sure to try to pair up good teams, but that wasn't always the case. Something about paperwork never really being as organized as they would care to admit. For now, Zuumas seemed confident in his team as it stands.
Who was he to judge though? Zuumas only stood a bit over three feet, most of his gangly limbs where too long or short for what most humanoids would consider normal and his skin was the color of dark ash. He made up for it in dress. While not expansive in taste, Zuumas did dress well, if not normal. Around his middle is the most noted piece of clothing, being a red and gold sash. Setting on the back side of his head is what appears to be a Tian festival mask looking a bit like a comical devil.
"So, bring the girl home and win the favor for your righteous war by way of her parents." Zuumas gave way to a wirey grin showing off a mouth of misplaced teeth. "When do we leave?"
Turning to Maxwell, Brackett says "Yes yes. provision accordingly of course. No it is not cold this time of year in Andoran."
To Ale's Questions: "Vivianna Talwin is the only major political rival Andares has to our knowledge. He has no obvious bad blood in the business of cheap wine.”
“Tercio and Thalia Andares are each the other’s only close living relatives in the area, so far as we are aware.”
Telfyr responds as well "Scrying is a difficult magic. it focuses on the target and unfortunately that was the best level of details i could come up with. “We have not had any luck narrowing the location down yet, but it is very likely to be near Sauerton, since there is was no sign of the kidnappers using magic.”
"If there is nothing more - you leave now!"
go ahead and roll your gather information checks. there's been nothing to sense motive thus far. Also feel free to ask any followup questions - we'll get on the boat tomorrow.
I'll leave whenever I wanna leave, you crusty skid stain...Now's fine, I guess.
Before he leaves, Lyonel wanders over to the small tribal fellow that arrived after him, a fact that slightly annoys the fighter. With the pipe on his lips and smoke spilling out his mouth Lyonel confronts the latecomer. "You know, I've had ticks bigger than you - which must mean you're a nasty little bugger. I hope you're not just along for a free ride and a little blood." He pauses to draw more smoke. "So, what's your deal?"
A nearly-indistinguishable twinkle of interest shows in Lyonel's eyes while he speaks to Zuumas. He would normally avoid other strangers like they were sick with jungle fever, but something about this one piqued his interest. Looks wild, this one.
Noor asks around The Grand Lodge what people know about this Tercio and or Sauerton.
Gather Information: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14
In the back of the Cathedral, Bosco stands up. The 6'4" half-orc could easily topple the pew in front of him, but deftly angles his large frame and slides out. "I wait outside." Not awaiting a reply, he moves fluidly and purposefully towards the door. The brute does not carry a weapon, but the large spiked shield on his back is noticeably worn...and stained. Not girl's fault father is rich. Bosco will help. Time to go before bad things happen.
gather info: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30 Do I need more than one of these? If so, I can add them here.
K:nobility: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
"I'm curious as to her state of being as you saw her." Ale' replies to Telfyr. "Was she calmly studying these Essays, or did she appear reluctant? I'd still like to know more about the contents of those papers. Perhaps that is a clue as to why she was taken." Ale' turns to Lionel, "The true cruelty, sir, is remaining ignorant of possibilities..."
After receiving his replies, "Maxwell, I agree that a few additional supplies may be in order. I too, will grab a few things before heading to the ship. Would someone have a map of the region for purchase by chance?"
Purchase wayfinder for 250g, paladin kit 11g(bedroll,food,etc), grappling hook 1g, and an appropriate map, if available and affordable.
That seemed fair, he thought. Zuumas moves to the door with a spring in his thin framed step, but stops when addressed by the much taller fellow. His smile returns to his face. His eyes followed the smoke with some interest, nut his mind stayed with the man's question. His long hand had just the fingertips brush the side of his mask. "A little blood, maybe, but that's not the goal." He straightened his back a little, growing almost a half a foot, and tilting his head with interest.
" But..." he half whispered, "If you are looking for a deal, I can always point you in a promising direction." It's strange, the charm that this one has. Maybe it's in his sad appearance or maybe because he doesn't get the statement. One would think that he should, as he sounds fluent. Still, there is a strange, underline accent that is hard to place.
(((Can someone show me how to do the dice rolling thing again and how to change the color of my font for when I talk ooc. Or send me to a place that brakes it down? X.x I have forgotten it all. Thanks!)))
@Zuumas - I just posted in the discussion tab some commands and explanations that I hope will help you out a bit. There's a learning curve, but you'll pick it up quickly.
Rateliff leaves as the other trickle out. Instead of finding information he buys a healing potion at the quartermaster and then searches for the weapons master to inquire about a sparing gym for his afternoon workout.
Potion of CLW: 50gp. Ready for the boat.
Bosco follows the rest of the party towards the boat. His silence might be interpreted as deep contemplation. But it probably shouldn't be. Hope the boat has food.
While Zuumas is willing to keep chatting with possibly one of the first humans trying not to slave him, he will also take time to casually gather any relavent information on their destination and family. Though, he often pauses to observe anything he finds of interest and that ranged greatly. Sometimes it was a smell, good or ill, sometimes it was something eye caching, such as a colorfully dressed priest or a pansy just now stretching it's own petrels for the first time. To say the least, the strange, little man rushed for nothing.
Information gathering (K. Local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
Thank you, Lyonel.
In a confession that is highly usual of Lyonel, he continues with Zuumas "You're a weird one, that's for sure. What's your deal, like, what's your story? This your first mission for the pathfinder Society? It is for me. Don't tell the others, I don't need 'em thinking I can't carry my weight."
Once his pipe tobacco is all burned out he empties out the used tobacco onto the chapel floor then packs more into the bowl and lights it with a match.
After speaking with the unusual little Wayang, Lyonel makes his way to the quartermaster to make sure he has everything needed for their journey. Inside he finds Maxwell Rateliff. "Would ya look at that, it's the muscle dummy. Say, I thought you Half-Orcs had tusks? Well s%+@, your ugly mug made me forget what I came in here for." Lyonel gets immense enjoyment from needling others and he knows there will be countless opportunities to needle the Monk. I'll break his inner-peace like a mirror."
Rateliff smirks at the crude man who was with him in the temple earlier. 'Just like so many of my colleagues from the old days..'
"Thank you, they're a proud and much misunderstood people. Perhaps you were purchasing a potion so I can pull you back while you're laying with Death?" His eyes scan the malignant crack-shot. "You're Lyonel, right? I've heard of you, sometimes work through Jaun Rhett?"
My reputation precedes me. Lyonel is tickled by the notion "All bad, I hope? The mouth-breather pays well enough and never gives me trouble. You know him?"
I'd better not mention that I don't have enough gold to my name to afford a single potion.
My story. he thought with a small smirk, but was glad when the man derailed from the subject or from the fact that his was, indeed, his first independent mission with the Pathfinder Society. He would be willing to tell the story of his coming here, sure enough, but he needed time to weave it.
Zuumas stayed close to Lyonel for now. He surely knew this city better than Zuumas did. Like everything, he studied the older man with the same kind of curiosity most people studied him. Observation was his mentor's flaw, but she knew it. He was something he learned young to do and do well. Commend everything to memory.
Ale and Zuumas make excellent use of their time gathering rumors and information surrounding their current mission.
*Tercio Andares is mayor of Sauerton, one of the consuls who administer Andoran’s military, and owner of the extremely successful Sauerton Red winery.
*Andares has generally remained popular in Sauerton despite the town suffering from a rash of attacks by wild beasts from the Verduran Forest in recent years, as his winery employs much of the town directly or indirectly, and it is rare for any public figure to suggest Andares might be responsible for any problems.
*A few unpopular individuals around Sauerton say that the Andares family is rotten, and that anyone who makes trouble for Tercio or his kin is quickly and quietly encouraged to leave town.
Noor also learns that Sauerton is infamous for its cheap and widely distributed wine, called Sauerton Red. It has become immortalized in an Andoren proverb that something of poor quality “must be down from Sauerton."
The voyage up the Andoshen River is swift, and you enjoy good weather until the last hour, when a light rain begins to fall. The Andares’s manor is not difficult to find, being one of several dozen stately homes still standing in the town as functional reminders of a past age’s nobility.
As you are walking along the main roads, observing the town, a halfling in a chain shirt comes upon you. "My name is Captain Merton Demrick of Andoran. What business do you have here strangers?"
"Good Day, Captain. My name is Noor Mayline and these are my associates. We are here from Almas at the request of Venture Captain Brackett of the Pathfinder Society. I have a letter of introduction for the Consul, if you please."
Are we at the manor, or just outside of it?
Diplomacy rolls as needed
Before leaving the Quartermaster's..
Rateliff grins, "Pretty close, but they were words from a dishonest man who only lives by the one rule of self interest. With that I can not work." Rateliff shifts his pack up higher onto his shoulder, ready to head out to the boat. Before he leaves, "Rhett did paint a unique picture in his rantings, a controlled chaos.. See you on the boat."
On the boat..
The boat reminds Rateliff of a mission in his past that didn't go well for him. 'If this ship reaches the shore then it'll already be a much better start..'
Rateliff stays quiet, letting others talk and act around him and trying to absorb the ebbs and flows of his surroundings. He's is trying to find the pulse of the new town, but occasionally finds himself studying the strange group as well.
When the halfling approaches Rateliff focuses on the man's unspoken intentions while looming over him with hollow objective eyes.
Perception and sense motive checks. Pretty much half of what Rateliff does is observe and ponder so let me know if you'd prefer me to roll, state when I would roll, or just paint blocks of introspective text.
i think the spoilers are mixed up but regardless - you are not at the manor yet.
The captaon smiles. "I would be happy to escort you there. It is good to have some extra help on this case. And i agree - it will be nice to be out of the rain."
At first Lyonel is happy for the rain. The pattering white noise quiets the world around him. But he is quickly annoyed when he is unable to smoke his pipe. He pulls a large wad of chewing tobacco from the pouch in his belt and offers a wad to Zuumas before stuffing some in his jaw. His teeth turn red and his spit looks like blood. The offer is the most generous act Lyonel has made in as long as he can remember.
He says nothing to Captain Demrick, opting to allow the more conversational members of his party to do the talking. I suppose there's a reason to be thankful for the Cleric and Paladin. Not that I'd ever tell them that. And I swear, if they try to convert me...
On the boat: Bosco appears uncomfortable for most of the trip. At least it's not a flying ship. Bosco hates flying.
Bosco stands behind the group as they speak with the captain. A military man himself, Bosco was trained to respect rank. But a halfling? How could a weakling become a Captain? This place is strange. Best to let the others deal with this...situation.
I tried to word each so that the Captain would either escort un in to the manor if we were out front of it, or that we could get inside out of the rain before moving on to the manor. The first assumes the captain will not be joining us into the Antares Manor.
The trip on the ship for Zuumas was uneventful and to his relief. Water still is nerve racking for him. He kept to her hulls most of the time, but about every three hours he would patrol the ship, not that anyone would see the stealthy creature, and look into the waters to be sure nothing in there was out for them.
To say the least, he was happy to disinbark and rejoin the cranky man. Rain is new. While he knows about it, rain has not yet relinquish its magic for him. Zuumas found the rain a nice distraction from his restless stay on the ship.
His attention drifted to Lyonel when he offered up the tobacco. He looked to it curiously before taking a little. He than smelled it. Like rotting fungus... Is it food? he quarried. Zuumas watched Lyonel and saw him spit what he thinks his blood. His little white eyes went a bit wide.
"You would eat something to make you bleed? he asked honestly, still unsure what to do with the tobacco pinched between his own boney fingers.
"HAHAHA," Lyonel bellows with laughter. "It's not blood. Here, chew it. It'll put hair on your chest. Just don't swallow unless you like a good buzz. If you don't like the chew you can try the smoke."
Why am I giving away my tobacco to this one? There's something about him, but I can't put my finger on it.
Zuumas grinned at the man's laughter, though he is not all sure why this was funny just yet. His mentor traded in some drugs once after overtaking a business. She had used and explained the difference between buzz and trip. Both where things he was familiar with as some mushrooms had the same effect. Therefore Zuumas was willing to try.
Being told not to swallow brought Zuumas an understanding of Lyonal's new lump under his lip. That must be where it goes when you aren't chewing. So, he mimicked the man. At first he did not know how to feel about the dirty taste in his mouth, giving him a strange grimes. But he has had worse things in his mouth. When the saliva built in his mouth, he spat as well, and is still surprised it looked like blood. He is pretty sure he knew why swallowing would be bad by this point. The stuff tastes just has bad as it smelled.
Zuumas held a moment of concentration, as if studding this as well. Lyonel could talk while holding the crew and did not drawl all over himself. This is his favorite sash around his waste. He would care not to soil it with this new stuff.
Rateliff catch's Noor's eye and nods towards the halfling followed a slow blink, the same blink of a comfortable cat on a sunny afternoon.
Full refund of the feather step slippers due to UE change. Noting here for reference
Chuckling at the exchanges between Lyonel and Zuumas, The short, gangly one is sure a curious, and entertaining sight to behold. muses Ale'. A slight crinkle of his nose shows each time they spit out their blood colored fluid, "Please do be careful where you spit that substance, lest it end up insulting our potential benefactor." Ale' equips and raises his shield above his head to block some of the rain.
After meeting up with Captain Demrick, "Fine weather we are seeing today, not so good for walking in, but good for your wine crops I would imagine" Ale' states in a pleasant voice. "Captain...of the town guard? Might I offer you a bit of protection from the rain as we proceed to your, umm... liege's residence?" Ale' asks as he begins to move his shield to partially cover the halfling from the rain. "Andares is your ruler in this area, is he not?"
The captain cheerfully guides the party to the manor through the rain. "The mayor's proper title is Consul. And yes - Tercio Andares is mayor of Sauerton, one of the consuls who administer Andoran’s military, and owner of the extremely successful Sauerton Red winery."
The Andares mansion stands at the edge of a beautiful green and has a facade dominated by fine marble pillars. The manor is tall and as imposing inside as out. The ground floor has a parlor, drawing room, grand dining room, water closet, and kitchen, and the upper level has half a dozen bedrooms, half of which are unused.
Upon knocking on the door, thin, hook-nosed woman with graying brown hair held in a tight bun—answers the door. "Yes? How can i help you?"
Conspicuously staying at the very end of the group, Bosco shifts uncomfortably. He does not want to go inside, instead preferring to remain out in the rain or guard the door. Either option is more befitting his station.
If prodded, he will enter the mansion, but looks clearly out of place and anxious. He will do everything in his power to not touch anything and leave as quickly as possible.
Before entering the mansion Lyonel spits the gob of chewing tobacco on the ground outside the door. 'Better here than on the floor.' "Mind if I have a smoke?" he asks the hook-nosed woman under his breath as they enter, not waiting for a response before he removes the pipe from his belt pouch and stuffs it full of tobacco.
Zuumas follows Lyonel's example, but decides it best to do so out of sight of the potential patron. Honestly, he was happy to have the stuff out of him. His mouth tingled, he felt light headed, which was not a problem if they where doing something other then trying to convince someone to help them in a war. On top of that, he felt something in the pit of his stomach that did not feel right. Once rid of his pack in his mouth, he will take out a hankerchif. As he rejoins the party, he has already wiped out what he can of the inside of his mouth and now cleaned the outside to make himself look as appropriate as a wayang out of place could. Before he puts the dirty cloth away, he checks his red sash, very pleased that he has avoided soiling it.
After gathering himself, he gives a short bow to the lady, but remains quite. Others seemed well versed in talking, so he will offer up his silver tongue when needed. He knows his mentor's methods, which are unorthodox even for his measure, so it will be good to see how the Society normally handles tender matters such as this.
Once inside, his eyes dart around the room in light aww. Wood houses still amazed him and one of this size almost seemed impossible. The colors and objects seemed opulent. He studies everything he sees with the keen interest of a wizard.
perception as needed
Rateliff would prefer to act as muscle unless operating solo, but this group seems to be full of the quiet types. He attempts to be diplomatic, "Good day, we are with the Pathfinder Society, here to locate Thalia Andares and have a few questions to ask those close to her. Would you mind if we got out of the rain and spoke with you and the Consul?"
Diplomatic: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (20) - 2 = 18
Aww yeah! She loves the ink!
Rateliff's honest intentions are able to shine through in his cadence and mannerisms and he conducts himself to the best of his limited social capability.
I just realized the first thing any of us said to the hook-nosed lady was my asking her if I could smoke...That must've seemed a little strange to her.
Oh hell sh*t fire, we'll need a crowbar to pry the meathead's brown nose from their fancy arses.
Lyonel scans the mansion, somewhat disgusted by the opulence, wondering how much he could get for selling some of the more extravagant items if he pilfered them. Could buy me a damn island with the coin they spent on some of this expensive trash.
"So this is where all my wine money goes. One hell of a place you've got here."
Bowing as gracefully as one in armor can, Ale' moves to the front and speaks to the lady at the door. "I apologize for my compatriots demeanor and behavior, it appears they may require some additional training when dealing with citizens of your station. I am Ale', and our group has been sent by Venture Captain Brackett to provide some assistance with a personal matter." Ale' attempts to discern whether the lady is honest in her responses. Who might you be, and would Consul Andares be available by chance?"
Are we still in possession of the writ of introduction? if so:
Ale looks to Noor, "We have a writ from Captain Brackett for the Consul, if you could produce it please, Noor?"
If the halfling captain escort has the writ:
Looking to Captain Demrick, "Our writ if you please, Captain?"
diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26
sense motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
After some pause, Rateliff gives Ale' a suspicious raised eyebrow look, "Our demeanor? It seems you've scared this woman to death."
Zuumas looked to the large man, holding back a snort of amusement. He was more than sure Rateliff was far more intimidating due to his size, but so far he has not seem anything else to prove this point.
Boscoe remains outside on the porch, and out of the rain. The woman, clearly insulted refuses to allow Lyonel to smoke in the residence.
As the lady moves to shut the door, Maxwell speaks well to her, and appears to impress her despite the penalties from his companions
Dorabeth welcomes you into her home, and exchanges a fond greeting with Captain Demrick. "it is so nice to have the lady's disappearance take hold of the interest of foreigners willing to help us. I hear it was Kyonin elves from accrosd the border... but you didn't hear it from me."
The party is led to a lavish parlor to wait. Tea and pastries are served.
to Ale "I am the governess. The consul is not available, but i believe your presence is of dire importance. He would want you to wait here for him."
you still have the writ. You can use spoilers for conditional actions
Dorabeth looks impressed at Ale's politeness while she has a hint of disdain for most of the other party members.
Rateliff listens intently.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Until he feels he has gauged the woman correctly, and then all but shuts out her opinions.
In the lavish parlor Rateliff denies any treats and inspects the room while standing to the side, arms folded and out of the way.
Zuumas gave a polite bow, as per his custom, and wordlessly followed her to their waiting room where curious eateries lay waiting for them. He held himself back from indulging just yet. Rather he looked to his fellow pathfinders to see how they behave.
But tea... Yes, he knows the smell of tea and the look of it even in this alien culture. After everyone was in, he turned to the tea pot and eyes his taller occupants starting with the woman and then his dirtier companion. "Would anyone care for tea?" With a gentleness in his long fingers, he cared for the pot in the same manner as a noble or a servent tending to them directly.
While being escorted to the parlor, Ale' looks around, eyes searching, attempting to get a better feel on his host's lifestyle, or any information about the missing daughter. "Quite an impressive place you have here, Governess," Ale' says to Dorabeth, "We understand the Consul has a busy schedule, but hopefully he will be able to speak with us shortly. The sooner we can begin, the sooner we will be able to find her. Curiously, why would the Kyonin elves be responsible?"
sense motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
gather info: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22
Upon arriving at the parlor, Ale' looks for a place to stand and observe. Seeing Zuumas maneuver around the room offering each person tea, This one appears to have experience in this type of situation, intriguing. He appears to handle the teapot with practiced grace. When Zuumas gets to him, "It would be a pleasure, thank you Zuumas." Ale' nods approvingly, sipping the tea.
No tobacco? What in the hells is wrong with these people? I shouldn't have even asked. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, I guess...Excluding the begging part.
Lyonel grabs for a pastry and eats it quickly, chewing with his mouth open. Then grabs another. "Damn, that's delicious." He looks about the room and instinctively removes his pipe, and is nearly done packing it before he realizes what his hands are doing. It takes him a few moments to decide whether or not to ignore her refusal, but settles on the belief that it would be ill-advised to upset the host so quickly. Especially if she has more pastries.
When Zuumas offers tea, he accepts with a nod and raised eyebrows. "Wash this down," he mumbles to himself.