GM.Kashka's 5-08 Confirmation [Core] (Inactive)

Game Master Andrew Torgerud

Game by Invite only.

A Pathfinder Society Scenario designed for level 1-2.
Almost all Pathfinders undergo extensive training for three or more years to learn the tricks of the trade, and their last test before graduating from the ranks of the initiates to the status of a full Pathfinder agent is the Confirmation, a special research project that involves considerable fieldwork and is designed to simulate the initiates' future work as a Pathfinder. Even the noteworthy field commissioned agents sometimes participate in such trials as a way to familiarize themselves with the Pathfinder Society’s rules and expectations. Although Confirmation is typically an individual affair, the society recently discovered a site on the Isle of Kortos that would be perfect for initiates but perhaps too dangerous to handle alone. Successfully uncovering this site’s secrets will not only contribute to the society’s body of knowledge but shape the exciting careers ahead for each of the prospective agents.
Written by Kyle Baird.

It was a dreary night whence our adventurers were drinking and celebrating. Their last field test complete, they found a dive bar in the Puddles to enjoy their merriment on the cheap.

Please take a moment and introduce your character. Describe any unusual combat strategies and abilities you might employ.

kn:local: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

"Huh... Boar and Oysters. And SWAT? Not sure that's a place I'd have wanted to be around... Cops always get the wrong ideas about me, for some reason."

Ver'Yanion is an elf, but not the type of elf one comes to expect from adventurers. He has a rather fine looking longsword strapped to his belt, and he occasionally mumbles at it, as if expecting a response. None is forthcoming, however.

"Good day, fellow Pathfinders. Name is Ver'Yanion... an adventurer by trade. Joined up with the Society after a little misunderstanding back home. We don't need to go into details, but how was I to know that the knickknack was a precious item owned by the sheriff's wife? She left it right there, out in the open, for anyone to take.

"But, for now, I am a precision fighter... prefer to fight from flanks so that I can I can get a better strike in. Locked doors are not a problem for me... I've got nimble fingers and all. I probably need to pick up some supplies, though... now that I think about it."

"Ver'Yanion! It's good to see you again! You've been practicin' hittin' things with that sword of yours, right? I can go shoppin' with you - I need to pick up a few things as well. And make sure you don't take nothin' without payin' for it, am I right? Ha ha!" Krixit grins widely, gnomish-attitude quite evident.

"As for me, I'm less of a 'precision' fighter and more of a 'whack it' kind of fighter. Hopefully multiple times, if they leave an opening. Me an' the gals get things done." She flexes the 'gals' for all to see - fairly impressive biceps for a little gnome.

"I'm lookin' forward to this mission! It's bound to be a lot more excitin' than bein' a bouncer, right? Last time sure was!"

A studded leather clad dwarf enters the dive bar. His bearing reveals he is at home in such a place, inhaling a deep breath and smiling. He is rather large and homely, even by dwarf standards. A battleaxe and dagger hang from his belt, swaying back and forth as he strides towards the bar.

"BEER! NOW!"

Sliding his money across the bar, Beechbar grabs his mug and surveys the room. He is looking for the other Pathfinders with which he is to go on a mission. He spots the gnome and elf sitting at a table. An audible groan emits from his barrel chest. Gods, a poncy elf and toothpick gnome. Well, looks like Beechbar Grumbletongue will need to take the lead just like always.

Skipping through the door is what appears to be an Elven child. "Sorry I'm late! Whoa! Hey Ver'Yanion and Krixit!! Funny seeing you two again!"

'Hmmm, perhaps my last mission wasn't the silly sword but actual these two. What are they? A secret heist team? No, with his rambling about that it'd be too obvious, too forward... but again, hiding in plain sight..'

"Mind if I have a seat? Got this sweet new wand after the last job! Now I can sit back and go pew pew pew from a distance while I confuse people." She leans the chair back while closing one eye and firing a fake finger wand. "Won't be able to give you any more sword lessons unfortunately Ver." Mirima winks to the elf and gnome in an over friendly way.

Disguise: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15

Perception Take 10 = DC 17

Ye gods... another gnome! And sword lessons?! I knew something was up with that elf!

After ordering a pitcher of beer (one mug) and four chickens and three lake trout, Beechbar rumbles over to the table and plops down. The chair registers its displeasure immediately and at great volume.

"Wut? I got myself a beer and some grub." Beechbar shrugs when everyone else gives him a funny look.

"Oh, right. Aye, I'm Beechbar Grumbletongue; dwarf. I hail from a long line of Grumbletongues, able to trace our clan history to the Search for Sky. Clan lore has it that Grotgreer Grimbletongue, the dwarf who started our clan, was the instigator of the legendary migration. Tired he was of listening to all the other thin-skinned no beards complaining about living underneath the ground he was. Aye, so he went and told them if they didn't like it they could leave. And leave they did!"

Beechbar smiles, nods his head, and winks at the gnomes while whispering "Grumbletongues." He nods again.

"So judging by the right intimate conversations you all were having, I take you all know each other?"

"Well, how well do you really ever know anyone? We did have a little adventure up near Magnimar, I think it was. I got to talk to a sword, even though it wasn't the best magical sword. It was kind of broken, but I tried using it... didn't work out so well. So, I got a real nice elven-forged weapon now. Balance is pretty good, so I think I'll be landing a couple more blows with it.

"Though, I haven't given up on Gamin. He wants me to wield him, you know. Said it himself. Well, I call it a him, 'cause his voice seems to be masculine. Once the Pathfinder Society pays me for those missions I did for them back a few years, I'll be able to afford to get Gamin out of hock. Yeah, I know that the Master of Scrolls doesn't remember sending me on those missions, and that there may have been some misunderstandings about what the mission entailed, but how was I to know that the Society was in a delicate negotiation with the Galtan government at the time. Mr. Robes-pier was certainly an amiable enough fellow, I felt sorry for him when the mob got him and sent him to the Final Word."

Noticing that there were a couple of blank stares coming his way, Ver'Yanion takes a sip of his wine, grimacing as he does. "They just don't make wine in Sauerton the way they used to... should really be called 'Sour Town' Red."

"Mirima! How's my favorite prodigy doin'?" Krixit exclaims, wrapping up the small elf child in a hug. "I'm looking forward to seeing that wand in action!"

"Don't mind when Ver'Yanion rambles, Mister Grumbletongue," Krixit adds, barely suppressing giggles when saying the dwarf's name. "But yes! We teamed up together just recently. I used to work more on my own, so it's nice havin' others to work with - especially folks I've worked with before!"

Mirima looks at the pitcher of beer with wide eyes. 'That's bigger than my head.. I can't remember, does the society still give out citations for being Drunk While Exploring?'

Mirima nods in agreement to Ver's story but then starts to lose him at the end and begins wondering if Gamin is still talking to him. 'So the conspiracy IS a trio, eh?'
Krixit's strong hug brings out giggles from Mirima while making the girl feel like a wine skin about to explode. "Great as always! Did you have an uneventful trip out here?"

She calls out to the barkeep, "I'll have a small glass of the Sour Town as well please," who gives her a dirty look. Then she turns to Beechbar, "Yeah so we're basically besties! Welcome Beechbar! If we've just hanging out here for awhile you guys should let me braid your hair!.. or beards!"
Knowledge(History?): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
"I'm afraid that I'm horrible with dwarven history, growing up an elf and all..(side eyes).., but I've always wanted to learn the language. Those old runes look sooo cool!"

"All wine is sour. I don't understand how anyone can drink that up jumped fruit juice.

BELCH!

"Excuse me, good trout!" Beechbar pats his ample mid-section.

Finishing off his pitcher, Beechbar laments "Ach, never enough in these human sized pitchers. This place really needs to start serving the beer in towers!"

The party seems to have attracted attention, as a smelly troll sits at the table.

"Dwarf and Gnomes fun. Who plays game?" He grins a rotten mouth of teeth at you.

A bit startled, Mirima did not notice the troll before. In an effort to be accepting and not xenophobic (or zoophobic?) she tries to politely engage with the man despite her gut feeling of RUN.

"Oh hey there! Um, are we talking a fun game like Charades or Draughts? ..Or is this a steal your soul, playing for keeps game?"

He dumbly stares at the Elf child. "Elf child. play blood dice? Not for soul, just for arm." The troll Guffah's.

burp

"Aren't we supposed to meet two more people here? Bah, just gives me time to drink more beer."

Beechbar rumbles off to order two more pitchers of beer. As he walks away you see him stop and tilt his pelvis a bit. A second or two later, he shimmies a bit and continues on towards the bar.

A few more seconds later, the troll recoils as the aroma hits him full nostril.

"I guess I should be polite.. Well, I can't afford to play by that wager. What would a thing like me do with a big ol' Troll arm if I won? What are the rules to this game anyways, just out of curiosity?"

Seeing the troll recoil Mirima gets a little confused, "What? Wait, did I just win? Ha! Troll word games! Blood dice, play for arm, you really had me going!" Looking back around her table she realizes Beechbar is gone and a few of the faces disgusted. sigh, "Eh? Oh, I have a lot to learn about this adventuring life."

Some loud noises catch the tables attention from the back of the inn. A few loud voices are heard, one familiar the other not. Serving wenches' heads whip towards the sound, a few pulling daggers from heretofore hidden areas. More than a few male patrons utter "Sorry I didn't mean to!" with simultaneous hands in the air.

The din quiets down as Beechbar makes his way back towards the group, a keg of ale on each shoulder and a bottle of fire-water tucked under his chin.

"Right, the barkeep weren't so keen on allowing me the run of the bar so I convinced him to simply give me what I wanted. Aye, a little bit of improvised stinking cloud may have helped. He saw things my ways. They always do."

Beechbar pours out ample amounts of fire-water into three glasses. He slides one in front of both Mirima and Krixit. The other he keeps to himself. Ver'Yanion notices the absence of a glass of his own.

"Here boys, this will put some hair on yer face!"

'Dwarves... never get into a drinking contest with Dwarves' thinks the elf. He also wonders how Beechbar confused the two lady gnomes as 'boys'. Thinking about what dwarves typically drink, he reconsiders drinking from Mirima's glass, which has somehow ended up in front of Ver'Yanion.

Beechbar slides the glass away from Ver'Yanion back to Mirima.

"Whoa no, this isn't fer the elf. If he wants to go trading swords with the boys he can do it on his own whiskey!"

Two saucy wenches arrive at the table carrying a large tray piled high with a mountain of meat and potatoes.

"Ahh! Dig in boyos! We might be here a while!"

Mirima watches the glass slide back and forth, then timidly takes a sip once it seems to finish it's journey in front of her once again.
Fort Save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

Mirima immediately spews the firewater into the air and then vomits onto the floor. She begins wheezing as it still burns to breathe.

"Oh no, oh no, oh my Desna.. hu'clugh splg' Whew. I. Ahem. I'm ok. Wha, wh.. what was, is that?!"

Beechbar tucks into the pile of meat in front of him. His hands are a constant blur going from table to mouth and back again, stopping only to take a long pull from a pitcher of beer.

While gnawing away at a rather large leg of ham, Beechbar gets a serious look on his face while leaning to the right. A few quick sniffs is followed by a massive grin. Beechbar begins waving his hands in an upward motion.

"Och, this is good one! I need to share it with the table!"

A halfling at the table behind Beechbar pales and faints. A troll sniffs and nods approvingly.

Unexpectedly, Ver'Yanion suddenly decides that he needs to be somewhere else, quickly. He doesn't wait for the aroma of dwarf flatulence to reach his delicate elven nostrils. He notices a half-elven woman in the corner, sitting by herself. As he makes his way over to the lass, somehow a pitcher of wine, and two glasses make their way into his hands.

"You looked lonely sitting here, all by yourself," he says, pouring her a glass. "Name is Ver'Yanion Talthenar... you may have heard of me?

"What's your name, pretty lady?"

Somehow, a plate of grapes and cheeses has ended up on their table.

Mirima stands swiftly once Ver leaves. "I should clean up a little." Then the elf scuttles off into the crowds.

A few minutes later she returns with several items and wearing a handkerchief tied to cover the bottom half of her face. Unbeknownst to everyone, inside of it there are a few mint leaves providing a comforting alteration to the local air.

"Krixit? I got one for you too." Mirima says as she places the handkerchief and mint on the table by the halfling.

The girl tries to put a bib around Beechbar's neck, but doesn't fight him on it if he puts up a fuss. "Be still now, my daddy always said that going into the woods covered in food like this is just asking to attract an owlbear or a Minotaur or something else that you'd rather not see." Next she kneels and does a quick job of spot cleaning the floor where she sat with a rag and bucket of water.

Putting the small bucket of water on a windowsill, Mirima finally settles back in at the table.

As Beechbar's drink slowly settles in, a tipsy Mirima eventually finds herself singing and dancing. Teaching the half-orc and ogrekin mercenaries what she calls "a lil ditty from my neck a'da woods", her wild semi-stomping form of dance surprisingly reaches out to them.

"Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play,
And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate,
Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake,
I shake it off, I shake it off!
Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break,
And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake,
Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake,
I shake it off, I shake it off!"

Perform (Sing): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Perform (Dance): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

The door swings open and in walks a human man, likely from the north, as his features give away his Brevoy ancestry. His eyes scan the room, looking at each individual as if searching for someone. With only a hint of dejection, he strides over to who he assumes is the group of Pathfinders he's supposed to meet here.

"Greetings fellow Pathfinders, it is I, Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz, but choo may call me Diego."

The three swords at his hip and the breastplate on his chest clatter as he walks. He takes a seat, and he speaks as if assuming what you're going to ask.

"I know, I know, is beautiful, isn't it?" motioning to the greatsword at his side. "Chess, it is a Ruiz", he intones, stating the name as if it a brand. "His last one, for now. Choo see, my father was wrongfully imprisoned for fabricating a sword which shattered in a duel."

A short breath, and barely a pause, he forges ahead, the lines coming out well-worn, through regular use, and probable over-use.

“One day, my father was commissioned to make a sword for a very important person, who it is is irrelevant. Great care was taken in its creation, and my father put everything he had into it, as he does every piece that he makes.”

He pauses again to breathe, sniffing the air awkwardly before continuing.

“When the Baron......oh I may have slipped as to who it was. No matter. When he used the sword in a duel, it shattered and he lost his life. The Baron's family,traced back the maker of the sword to enact revenge, they found my father.”

Another pause, and another deliberate sniff, as if trying to place the scent.

“I knew that there was nothing wrong with the sword, yet I could not prove my father's innocence. My father was wrongly imprisoned on obviously fabricated evidence. When they took my father away, I spotted a one-armed Chelish man, who seemed all to pleased with himself. I have been searching for him ever since. I have worked hard, and studied to be the greatest swordsman on Golarion, so that when I meet this man, I will have my revenge."

An audible squish emanates from the floow as Diego shifts his feet. Looking down, an eyebrow raises, and he gags. Hand clasps over his mouth while he chokes back bile.

"I can smell why someone lost their cookies. It's like an abattoir and a tannery mated and what resulted ate the effluent and shat it out."

Ver'Yanion notices the man that walks in, and starts talking for no reason. He listens to the story, and then ends up sitting at his table, away from the dwarf, looking at the smallest of the man's three swords. He turns it around, looking for the mark, after which he says, "Diego is it? This is one of your father's swords, too? I don't recognize the mark... his blades haven't made it this far south, yet?"

Mirima skips back to the table, having found herself what must be the only cup of orange juice not containing alcohol in the place. At the mention of the soiled floor she stammers out, "Uh, yeah, ha riight? You know what they say about 'bars with trolls'... you're going to know where they sat for weeks." She lies through her teeth quite convincingly with a nod to the table next to theirs.

In the next instant she has switched to her usual perky tone, "I'm Mirima! This is Belch-.. uh Beechbar, this is Krixit, and this is.." She then notices that Ver'Yanion's meandering hands has ended up with one of the Diego's swords. "Oh Ver! Again?! What, is that one talking to you too? 'Please take me, I'm magicool. We can go on adventures together and woo women.'" imitating the sword they had met earlier in a playful accent.

'This human, Deigo was it?, he's definitely not one of Ver'Yanion's associates. I'll assume him an authentic adventurer for now.'

Ver'Yanion looks shocked by Mirima's comments, but takes her shortening of his name in stride. Still, it was the last thing he though a gnome would do. "Mirima, you think this one might be magical? That would be very interesting... would definitely make 'a Ruiz' extra cool!"

He gets a very serious look, and holds the rapier up in front of himself. "Rapier, I am Ver'Yanion Talthenar, formerly of Kyonin. I am glad to make your acquaintance! What is your name?" he asks quite seriously.

An ill wind blows through the Wounded Wisp. Riding the crest of this foul stench like Death himself upon a black stallion is Beechbar.

"THAT WING OF THE BUILDING IS CLOSED!"

Reaching the table, Beechbar notices there is someone sitting in his chair. Under normal circumstances this would not bother the dwarf. Except this circumstance is not normal.

There is full tower of beer where Beechbar was once sitting.

A low throaty rumble rises from the rather ample, even by dwarf standards, wizard. Beechbar grumble a few words and extends his hand. His face devolves to scowl and snarl as the tower of beer does not move towards him like he expected.

"Guess I do it the old fashioned way."

Beechbar climbs on the table, gathers himself and walks over to his beer, glaring at the human sitting before him.

"Git yer own!"

Satisfied he gave that human what for, Beechbar tips the tower to his mouth and drinks.

"Ach, now you get to buy the next one," he says, pointing at Diego.

Perhaps it is the alcohol Beechbar pushed onto her, or most likely perhaps it is simply impossible to rid the hereditary mischief from a gnome. Regardless of why, Agent Cecelia Meringue-Duvet was finding it hard to fully maintain her guise as adolescent elf Mirima Mantheniel.

Seeing Ver'Yanion take her sarcastic jab at his procurement of Diego's sword seriously, she simply could not help herself.

"Why yes, can't you hear it? Look deep into the metal of the blade and listen hard." Once everyone seems intent on the rapier it begins to softly speak, "He told you my name, I am a Ruiz!"

Couldn't help it, Ghost Sounds with a Will DC of 15

Whoa boy. Who did Kreighton set me up with? I know he's eccentric and all, but this is beyond the pale.

"Ummm......."

Come to Absalom, Shane said. It'll be fun, he said. Meet some other Pathfinders, go through your Confirmation, he said.....

Diego shifts uncomfortably in his seat, as the elves continue to speak to his rapier.

"Ale. Why yes, forgive my manners. Where is the wench?

At least the dwarf is normal so far........

As the night goes on, a young halfling woman has joined the group subtly.

"I don't know about you guys, but this is my last round..." As Diego bring the waitress back around again...
"We got your Confirmation tomorrow... and we start where it
all began. Meet Kreighton Shaine at the Pig’s Paunch one hour before dawn.”

Janira finishes her beverage and takes off before the dwarf can force another drink on her.

"Aiight, I'll be heading home now. I need to get my beauty sleep for tomorrow's confirmation."

Beechbar pauses before the door. His body tilts a bit to the right as his left hip raises just a bit. After a satisfied grunt, Beechbar wiggles his hips and leaves the bar.

will DC15: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (15) + 0 = 15 HA!

Ver'Yanion glares at Mirima, as he realizes that the voice was created by her, and didn't come out of the sword. "Nice try, there, Mirima. But I have to say that a truly experienced elven adventurer like myself can pick out the subtle nuances between a sword's voice, and one created by a spell."

He looks back at the sword, which is most definitely not responding to him. He then realizes that he is getting a bit of a look from Diego... "Oh, I am sorry. Is this your blade?"

'Dwarves. Golarion's most uncouth race... except maybe for orcs. But only maybe.'

Ver'Yanion makes his way around the bar, opening windows long frozen shut by time, but figuring that the place needed a little airing out.

Well done!

Mirima slightly reddens and attempts to look as naive as possible, "Aww you know us school girls can't help but tease our friends, no hard feelings. We should all get a good night's sleep though. Great meeting you Diego! Everyone have a good night!"

Mirima proceeds to head out of a very different door, getting a little lost in the kitchen as she attempts to find it.

As everyone begins leaving an extremely tall thin (almost gaunt) man approaches. He is wearing a dark robe with the hood raised which hides his face in shadow. He carries a scythe and it is obvious he wears armor under the robe.

"I am Carolla"

He speaks gruffly with no apologies for his extremely late arrival. It is almost as if he just expects everyone to know who he is.

Gods! Another elf! Gnomes, elves, and a beer stealing human! At least this last elf speaks right and proper. Although I think that weapon is compensatin' for something.

Ach, well as long as they all pull their beer weight on this here adventure all is good.

"Hey! Reedy! Wut? The wind blowin to strong for ya?"

The Pig’s Paunch is a run-down building with a faded sign of a large pig standing on its hind legs, arms folded above a corpulent belly. Inside, the air is thick with the scents of human sweat, stale tobacco, and leftover food. In the center of the room, surrounded by inebriates sleeping off their revelries, a familiar elven man stands high upon top of a large round table.
“Welcome! Welcome, my students! Please, have a seat!” With that, Kreighton Shaine, the Pathfinder Society’s Master of Scrolls, nimbly drops down to sit cross-legged on the table before looking about the tavern with a sense of reverent wonder. “Can you believe it? It all started here years ago—well, over four hundred of them at least. Under this very roof the Pathfinder Society was born.

“But today! Today you will begin your Confirmation! Master Farabellus, Master Westyr, and I all agree you each have shown your worth and dedication to the Society, so there’s no better time to see if you can handle becoming full field operatives. Allow me to introduce you to Janira Gavix,” he says as he motions for an excitable halfling woman to approach. She wears a large backpack and carries all manner of tools, pouches, and scroll cases around her waist. Shaine continues, saying, “Janira here will be going with you on your Confirmation. She was one of my brightest pupils and will no doubt be an invaluable resource on your journey, for she discovered the caves you are about to explore during her own Confirmation.”

Janira speaks up in an enthusiastic and cheerful voice, “Greetings, aspiring Pathfinders! Six months ago, while I was mapping cave entrances in the foothills of the Kortos Mounts, I witnessed a lone gillman entering a concealed cave. I thought little of it at the time, but I saw another one enter the cave again a month later as my Confirmation stretched on. A few days later, after I completed my assigned task, I entered the cave system, but was unable to find the gillmen.”

Master Shaine hops to his feet. “Initiates, for your Confirmation, you will travel to these caves to explore and document its many passages. Additionally, and most importantly, you are to learn what the gillmen are up to in there. Oh, and you need to come back alive as well.” With these parting words, the Master of Scrolls jumps off the table and strolls out of the building while humming to himself.

A puzzled expression crosses Diego's face.

Caves? I'm being sent to explore some caves?

Diego straights in his seat and puts a hand upon his chin as if in deep thought.

"Gillmen and caves you say? Intruiging......" Diego muses aloud, more to himself than to anyone else in the room.

Bloody caves and gillmen? I've befriended Jadwiga in Irrisen, allied with the Snowmask Clan, and slain a dragon and I'm being sent to explore some caves?

Diego looks around the room towards his other Confirmation companions, gauging the interest in their eyes and body language.

Beechbar rocks back and forth, eyes wide with excitement.

"Caves... Caves... Caves... Caves... Caves..."

"Spunds like an adventure. Maybe we will get to save elvish ladies from evil undead dragons and nasty gnomes again?" says Ver'Yanion. "Master Shane! Master Shane?"

Carolla looks through his pack then faces the table.

"Caves huh. Can any of you lot cast a light spell or do I have to go shopping?"

He spits out the word "I" like he's used to do everything himself.

Please let this group be more competent than that last party I worked with

"That is a great question Carolla. An effective Pathfinder team of agents works best when they know each others' abilities and compliment their fighting styles.

What are each of your names and what are your abilities?"

She writes in her journal as each of you make your introductions....

Carolla seems a loner, but thinks ahead.

Ver'Yanion seems a loose cannon... short attention span and possibly pubescent tendencies.

Mirima watches everything wide-eyed and excited. "Hiya Janira! My name is Mirima! I'm a prodigy, like really good at adventuring and magic and I really like to help people and confuse mean people so they're not mean anymore, unless they were mean because they were already confused. Then I'd just confuse their confusion which confuses me so I don't know of I'll actually do that... So I got this one wand that goes pew pew and this other one that makes people all Oh no, my clothes are so heavy now so it's easier to be like, stop picking on me and my friends. Oh my gods, ok so I can't keep from asking but I love your belt! What kind of scrolls do you have?! I really love magic, I'm going to be like really good at it someday."

The little elven girl spews forth everything at once.

'Janira Gavix, I'll take notes on this one, she seems to have a strong motive for something. But what? What controls her? '

Diego reaches into his pack and pulls out a cloth wrapped torch. A strong glow emanates from within.

"Don't worry, Carolla . I've got light covered with this torch that sheds no heat but glows just as strong as burning oil." He proudly rewraps the torch.

"You're not the only one who comes prepared." Diego begins rifling through his pack, as if trying to remember all he brought.

"Spells? Not yet," answers Ver'Yanion somewhat absent-mindedly. He then remembers the question that Janira asked. He stands up, and takes a bow while introducing himself.

"I am Ver'Yanion Talthenar, elven adventurer, formerly out of Kyonin. I have some skill with a sword, and have very nimble fingers... something I am sure that will help when I finally take the time to actually study magic. My parents will be very happy to hear that I am going to be taking up the family obsession with the arcane arts, though I would guess that the directions I'll be taking them will be less pleasing to their stuffy ears. Well, of course, that is if I tell them, or can find them. You see, they sort of disowned me after that incident back in '03... how was I to know that the figurine was the property of the mayor, and that she had left it out there as part of a devotion to the Sacred Sting? I was just trying to make sure that no one stole it... you know?"

He shakes his head, remembering the scene. "Totally a misunderstanding. Anyone could have made that mistake. Probably wasn't helped when I offered the wasp figurine to the mayor's daughter that very evening as a token of my appreciation...."