GM Ladile's TL;DR: A Pathfinder Society Campaign

Game Master Lady Ladile

Hepsubia tries taking a swipe at the Pink Quickling as it zips away from her and Zithembe attempts to strike at the Cyan Quickling but both strikes fail to hit the targets - these guys do indeed earn their moniker!

Cyan once again tries to cut someone with his sword, that lucky someone being...

1=Rumble, 2=Zith

1d2 ⇒ 2

Cyan vs. Zithembe (Short Sword; IC): 1d20 + 10 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 10 + 1 = 17

...Zithembe! But the quicklings aren't having much luck hitting their targets either. Cyan then moves away from dwarf and shabti (provoking from both) and moves to circle around behind Janus.
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Round 2

Green Grig
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Hepsubia (-4, Dex Damage 2; Weapon Song - Flaming)
Maria (Alchemical Grease, Soothe Syrup)
Janus Too
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Pink Quickling (-7; Blur)
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Zithembe (Pending AoO)
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Cyan Quickling (Blur)
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Janus (See Invisibility)
Parison
Rumble (Pending AoO; Divine Favor, Shield of Faith)

Active Conditions: Champion Spirit (+1 Non-Spell Damage; Orange Circle)

Environmental Conditions: None

Janus, Parison and Rumble are UP!

Town Square, Again

Only because I haven't said it in a while (Rumble doesn't get many AoO's!), but he gets four AoO's a round and can make them while flat-footed. Just in case it ever comes up :)

"JUS' STAND STILL!" Rumble roars as his new hammer catches air when the first Quickling flees and then again when he swings at the Quickling ganging up on Janus.
________
AoO vs Cyan: 1d20 ⇒ 31d8 ⇒ 7
Attack vs Cyan: 1d20 ⇒ 21d8 ⇒ 1 With rolls like this *glares at the dicebot* I'm not even going to bother with my bonuses. *grumble grumble grumble*

Zithembe attempts to wound the quickling as it breaks away, but he only catches its afterimage.

Concealment: 1d100 ⇒ 15

Having moved in order to pursue the grig, Janus is suddenly presented with a second target as one of the quicklings comes to the grig's aid. Janus tries to take advantage of Rumble's position and turns their whirling flails on the quickling.

dire flail vs cyan quickling, bane, flank: 1d20 + 6 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 6 + 2 + 2 = 26cold iron/silver/magic damage, bane, champion: 1d8 + 5 + 2 + 2 + 2d6 ⇒ (8) + 5 + 2 + 2 + (3, 6) = 26precise strike: 1d6 ⇒ 3fire damage: 1d6 ⇒ 3concealment?: 1d100 ⇒ 61

dire flail vs quickling, flank, offhand: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 6 + 2 = 11magic damage, champion: 1d8 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 3 + 2 = 12precise strike: 1d6 ⇒ 4fire damage: 1d6 ⇒ 6concealment?: 1d100 ⇒ 31

Not sure if See Invisibility defeats the quickling's concealment or not. If it does, then Janus gets an additional +1 trait bonus to hit and an additional 1d6 damage on each attack from Sneak Attack.

Although his friends are better armed for dealing with the quicklings and the grig, Parison is not. His weapons aren't made of cold iron and would do miniscule damage at best if he were to be able to hit any of them. None of his companions are seriously injured, but Parison wants to remain close in case things take a turn for the worse.

"Sarenrae," he murmurs out, beginning to pray. "Grant me safe harbor with your divine grace and let our enemies see that I pose no threat to them as long as I do not threaten them in turn."

As he completes the spell, Parison feels his goddess envelop him in an invisible warmth. Motes of light sparkle here and there on his clothing and armor as he takes a passive stance toward the hostile fey creatures, hearing the inner thoughts of calm and peace pushing away thoughts of aggression and hostility.

Parison takes a 5 ft. step to position himself near Maria and casts Sanctuary on himself. Enemies trying to hit him with weapons or targeted spells have to succeed at a Will save to be unaffected or they lose their part of that action and can't attack him for three rounds as long as he doesn't attack or use attack spells.

Rumble tries twice to clobber some quickling skull but both times the pesky little fey prove to be too quick on the draw, easily avoiding the clumsy hammer blows. Zithembe's retaliatory attack as Cyan moves away fares no better.

Janus, however, has better fortune. As Cyan moves to aid Green Grig he turns on the little creature with his flail and flat-out knocks him straight into the afterlife!

I don't see why See Invisibility would negate the quicklings' innate Blur effect but you hit either way, so it all works out ;)

As Parison conjures a small field of peace and sanctuary around himself and steps forward, so as to remain close to both ally and enemy in case he is needed, Green Grig tries taking another 'step' to get away from Janus only for the Ulfen to continue to follow him.

"Rah! Stupid human!" the grig squeaks in frustration, adopting a defensive position yet again as he begins to cast another spell...

Cast Defensively (DC 17): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

...but fumbles it at the last second, causing the spell to fizzle! (Which provokes from Janus, I believe.)

"Hey! You! Why aren't you helping us!? You should be helping us destroy the tower and the town!" he calls desperately to Henbane.

The dryad simply shakes her head. "The time wasn't right anymore. Your request only made sense at the later time."
______________

Round 3

Green Grig
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Hepsubia (-4, Dex Damage 2; Weapon Song - Flaming)
Maria (Alchemical Grease, Soothe Syrup)
Janus Too
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Pink Quickling (-7; Blur)
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Zithembe
Janus (Pending AoO; See Invisibility)
Parison (Sanctuary)
Rumble (Divine Favor, Shield of Faith)

Active Conditions: Champion Spirit (+1 Non-Spell Damage; Orange Circle)

Environmental Conditions: None

Hepsubia, Maria and Janus Too are UP!

Town Square, Again

Maria darts to the side and releases another carefully aimed shot.

Move, Shoot pink using perfect strike (take highest of two rolls, 0 uses remain)

Wasp + PBS: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 6 + 1 = 17

Wasp + PBS: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 6 + 1 = 22

for Focused Shot Piercing/Cold Iron/Silver + PBS + Zith + Trait + Hep: 1d8 + 4 + 1 + 2 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 1 + 2 + 2 + 1 = 14

Miss 1-20?: 1d100 ⇒ 17

Trusting in the others to handle the grig Maria takes aim at the remaining quickling and fires off a shot that would've been right on the mark...if not for the creature's blurry form throwing off the elf's aim.
______________

Round 3

Green Grig
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Hepsubia (-4, Dex Damage 2; Weapon Song - Flaming)
Maria (Alchemical Grease, Soothe Syrup)
Janus Too
==============
Pink Quickling (-7; Blur)
==============
Zithembe
Janus (Pending AoO; See Invisibility)
Parison (Sanctuary)
Rumble (Divine Favor, Shield of Faith)

Active Conditions: Champion Spirit (+1 Non-Spell Damage; Orange Circle)

Environmental Conditions: None

Hepsubia and Janus Too are UP!

Town Square, Again

Hepsubia dashes into the nearest portal Red5, hoping to re appear near a foe. 7 will be great, Lady L, thanks!

Not a sound and sane tactic, but hey, it's Hepsubia. You've learned to "Expect the unexpected!" as she regularily says (or will say, from now on. Who cares?)

Janus doesn't get an AoO if the grig just failed to cast defensively Lady L. The grig just loses the spell. He would have provoked if he decided to just cast whilst threatened, and then would have needed a concentration check to cast successfully if damaged.

Sensing that their human counterpart is in danger of being outflanks, Janus Too sprints to their side.

Double move using sprint.

Blue Portal?: 1d10 ⇒ 2

Deciding to take a gamble Hepsubia takes a few steps forward and dives into the nearby red portal, hoping to pop out closer to the action...but instead pops out even further away!

Janus Too hustles to his master's side, ready to protect him from attack.

And Pink Quickling does indeed move up and attempts to shank the Ulfen man...

Pink Quickling vs. Janus (Short Sword): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16

...but still can't hit anything!
______________

Round 3

Green Grig
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Hepsubia (-4, Dex Damage 2; Weapon Song - Flaming)
Maria (Alchemical Grease, Soothe Syrup)
Janus Too
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Pink Quickling (-7; Blur)
==============
Zithembe
Janus (See Invisibility)
Parison (Sanctuary)
Rumble (Divine Favor, Shield of Faith)

Active Conditions: Champion Spirit (+1 Non-Spell Damage; Orange Circle)

Environmental Conditions: None

Zithembe, Janus, Parison and Rumble are UP!

Town Square, Again

Zith and Rumble, let me know if you need Janus to move - Janus is just looking for a flank. Can't 5' step because I used Step Up, but I don't mind provoking AoOs. As things stand I'll go around the other side of the grig to flank with Janus Too (which has 10' reach) but I'll hold on for you two.

I'll take a flank, thanks!

"On yer six!" Rumble calls out to Janus as he heaves forward at the Quickling. "Yer all jus' speed an' bluster!" he declares as he takes another swing.
________
Warhammer (Cold Iron, Magic, DF, PA, FF, Song, Spirit, Flank) vs Pink: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 7 + 2 = 281d8 + 8 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 8 + 2 + 1 = 12 At least I hit this time...

Janus moves into position to flank with Rumble, readying his dreadful flail against the quickling.

Technically this is a move and a ready - but with Rumble having posted already I shall just roll the attack.

If pink is dropped by Rumble, Janus attacks the grig. Otherwise he attacks the quickling.

acrobatics to avoid possible AoOs: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

flail vs fey, bane: 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 8 + 2 = 27magic cold iron damage, champion, bane: 1d8 + 7 + 2 + 2 + 2d6 ⇒ (1) + 7 + 2 + 2 + (3, 4) = 19flaming damage: 1d6 ⇒ 1

If this attack is against the quickling, add +2 to attack and precise strike: 1d6 ⇒ 4 damage. concealment check?: 1d100 ⇒ 41

If this attack is against the grig there is no change.

"We make endings."

Zithembe advances wihtout quip upon the square's center and strikes with his cold iron knife at the fey.

Move, Attack Pink (if Pink is down, I have enough movement to advance into Pink's square and attack the grig)

Cold Iron Dagger, Enhancement, Champion: 1d20 + 4 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 4 + 1 + 1 = 24
Cold Iron, S, Enhancement, Champion, Séance: 1d4 + 2 + 1 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 + 1 + 1 + 2 = 9
Concealment: 1d100 ⇒ 24

Parison steps next to Maria. "Blessed goddess, please aid my friend with your divine insight," he prays as he reaches out his hand and touches Maria's shoulder.

Parison moves to Maria and casts Guidance on her. +1 competence bonus to her next attack roll, saving throw, or skill check.

Rumble vs. Concealment (20%, Low is Bad): 1d100 ⇒ 44

Though the fey have proven to be about as tenacious and hard to swat as mosquitoes Rumble finally succeeds in bringing down the remaining quickling with a single, decisive swing of his warhammer. The grig barely has time to utter one last squeak of fear before he meets the same fate under the combined onslaught of Janus and Zithembe's weapons.

Combat Over!

With the battle done, a short silence falls over Uringen's town square before the Clock Tower suddenly begins to emit a deep, resonant bass tone from its chimes. Looking up, you all see that the western face is once more spinning wildly out of control and as you watch, the other three faces desynchronize. The portals of red and blue that litter the empty, trashed town square slowly begin to fade from existence as the clock continues to chime....

*BOOOOONG*

*BOOOOONG*

*BOOOOONG*

...until, after the thirteenth chime, it goes silent. The time is now 12:34 in the morning and Uringen has returned to its 'normal' state, all signs of temporal anomalies vanished without a trace. Henbane Allseasons whistles softly.

"My...what a spectacle that was! Or is it 'will be'? Hmm."

She turns to you, a sudden expression of concern on her face. "Oh my! Was there a battle? I am glad that you were not hurt! Well, not hurt any more than you seem to be."

"The battle is over. We have made an ending. The will of Imbrex is done."

Janus nods to Henbane.

"Though we have faced hostile fey before, this was the first time that fey stood on both sides of a conflict that we have witnessed." A look of consternation crosses Janus's features. "We serve the Green still."

Maria begins filling out her journal as things calm down.

12:34: The event has ended. Initial observations lead me to believe that time and the town have returned to normal.

12:37: Janus is still odd, but that's what you get with being mostly fey. This entire mission has reinforced my idea that those of that nature are best left alone.

12:45: Rumble appears hungry... again.

"Told ya two Gods 're more than ye could 'andle," Rumble says, nudging one of the Quicklings with a grieved foot. "Wha's tha plan now, eh? We got time fer ah bite tah eat?"

On cue, his stomach starts to... rumble. "Think tha Mayors'll wanna see this?"
________
Sorry GM, forgot about the concealment!

"Yes," Parison says. "They'll also want to talk to Henbane, which is what we were on our way to set up before these fey," he says, waving a hand at the corpses of the grig and quicklings, "tried to stop us."

Oh...it's finished? Too bad, I still want to sing!

Hepsubia frolics around the Clock Tower, waving her flaming sword at imaginary foes, making "whhhoussssh" sounds and singing for a few more moments

The sound of approaching footsteps briefly pulls your attention away from your frolicking and hunger pains as you see the Mayors Ogden and Mieren approaching with a couple of the Travelers in tow, as well as Cerotius.

"Is everyone okay?? We thought we heard the sounds of battle from...over...here..."

Mayor Ogden stops, staring rather curiously at Henbane. The dryad offers a vague smile in return. "Oh, I am Henbane Allseasons, a simple walker of time's pathways. It's very nice to meet you again, Mayor."

"Ah...indeed..." Ogden replies, clearly a little flummoxed. "Ahem! It seems as though everyone has had quite the evening. Tell me, my friends, what happened in the tower?"

"Ooh! Ooh! I was kinda there for parts of it!" Seripan pipes up, waving her tiny hand in the air. "They saved me from those supplies run amok and then there's Allseasons that I THOUGHT was the mastermind behind all the trouble or maybe in league with that JERK but they all said she was nice and wasn't a prisoner, so-"

Cerotius clears his throat.

"So let them fill in the gaps," the pixie interjects with a smile.

"Fine, fine..." Seripan pouts. "Bet I could tell the parts I do know better, though..."

"These assailants were Mather Nithra's agents. That one must be found and ended.

Mistress Henbane came to... fix the clock. We agreed to assist with a stabilising ritual that is yet to be completed. In this matter the wills of Imbrex and Shyka are aligned."

Janus nods towards the dryad.

"Whah 're we doin' fer tha ritual anyways?" Rumble asks Henbane and Janus.

"That is the short of it," Zithembe clarifies for Mayor Ogden. "The tower was built using the stones from a fey circle that channeled the flow of time, which likely explains the strange effects it produces. When the clock faces aligned, rips in space opened all over. You will need to ask the others about their experience passing through them. We met Henbane in the top of the tower trying to repair the flows of time. Her original efforts would have destroyed the town, but we managed to come to an agreement to establish a new anchor for the flow of time that would spare the town. Once we exited the tower, the grig and his quicklings attacked us."

"The grig was Mather Nithra? But of course. That threat is ended."

"We expected a greater display of ego."

"Oh, um...no, that grig wasn't, uh...him," Seripan is quick to point out. "But you know what? That grig was definitely working with him so, like, screw that guy! He deserved what you guys gave him," she adds with an indignant snort.

Mayor Ogden sighs. "Really? What a shame; it'd have been nice to have one less problem to worry about around here. But even so! It seems that all of Uringen owes you a great debt, Pathfinders. If not your for interventions the tower and likely the entire town would've been lost. Be sure that I will personally send word tomorrow to Venture-Captain Smine and inform him of all you've done here tonight!" She then smiles. "And I believe we can also come to some sort of arrangement to provide the Society access to our quality alchemical goods on a more permanent basis."

"As far as this stabilizing ritual is concerned, we'll do all we can to help you, Miss Allseasons. But the hour is late and there's very little to be accomplished if we're all sleep-deprived. Please, return to the Oaken Knot and get some rest - you too, Miss Allseasons, you look exhausted! Tomorrow we can begin work on repairing the fey circle, under Miss Allseasons' guidance if she pleases."

And so you and Henbane part ways with the two mayors, Cerotius, and Seripan, making your way back to your rooms at the Oaken Knot tavern. Henbane seems content to invite herself into Hepsubia and Maria's room, paying no heed to any displeasure or discomfort - or the opposite - her presence might have.

"How quaint! It's been ages since I've rested in human lodgings," she smiles as she looks around, her expression vague and dreamy once more. "Or wait...perhaps it was only yesterday? Hmm."

The dryad helps herself to a pillow from Hepsubia's bed and one of the blankets from Maria's, concocting a makeshift pallet on the floor by the window. "Sleep well, mortal friends. Tomorrow...is it tomorrow? Tomorrow, we begin...the...work..." she murmurs as she stretches out, sleep quickly coming to claim her.

As the rest of you settle in for bed you think upon Henbane's words and those of Mayor Ogden. Though in many ways the real work is still to come each of you are able to easily slip off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow will bring with it the dawn of a new day and a brighter future for not only the people of Uringen but the fey that call it and the surrounding forest home.

End: Six Seconds to Midnight

Begin: Intermission

The dawning of that next day and the next step towards a brighter future dawns brightly over Urigen. Within the window of his room, Parison undertook his daily ritual of his morning prayers to his goddess. On those days of morning sunshine, the beams of light always gave the priest a secure sense of both safety and comfort. As he held his silver medallion in his hand, the sun's rays seemed to enhance his sense of euphoria moreso than he'd remembered since donning the Dawnflower's mantle.

"Something new begins and something ends."

The feminine voice was commanding, yet sublime. Startled, Parison looked up, his invocation dying in his throat. No one was there. He looked around, even throwing a sideways glance under the bedframe. All was dust underneath.

Perplexed, the young man resumed his morning prayers to Sarenrae with a modicum of wariness. When he finished, he ambled downstairs to join his friends for the breakfast meal. As he partook of the spread of food on the table, he looked around the table at his companions in silent contemplation. Rumble was arduously putting away as much food as he could. Janus and Zithembe were debating the nature and philosophies of the First World between bites and Hepsubia and Maria were discussing the merits and flaws of bows and swords. Grinning serenely, he turned his focus back to filling his own stomach.

None of them noticed when a gangly man with blond hair wearing a backpack entered the Oaken Knot's common room. His travelling clothes bore the dust of the open road and a rapier was sheathed at his side. His eyes scanned the room until his eyes fell upon Sarenrae's cleric.

"Parison Drekmore?"

The man's high-pitched voice brought the flow of conversation and breakfast to a halt as all eyes turned to the source of the interruption. "I am he," Parison replied as he gave the newcomer a look of both appraisal and scrutiny. "Who are you?"

"My name is Darro and like yourselves, I, too, am a member of the Pathfinder Society," he replied as he produced a wayfinder with the open road glyph from underneath his tunic. Returning the wayfinder from whence he produced it, the man unshoulder his backpack and rooted within before producing two pieces of parchment. "I was sent to find you and give you this," he said, presenting a scroll bearing Sarenrae's seal the mark of the high priest of her temple in Absalom. "From Captain Smine, who hopes you are well and that your assignment is progressing nicely," Darro added, producing a second scroll.

Parison took the latter scroll first, opened it, and silently began reading it.

"Ah tried ta tell 'is fool th ye'd be comin' back an ta wait, but he insisted on findin' ye. Hope that ye an ye fella agents be 'ale an 'earthy an' 'at things in Urigen be goin' as planned. Explore, report, cooperate." Holgarin Smine

"We were just in the process of wrapping up our business here in Urigen," Parison replied. "We just have to help with a ritual and we'll be finished here. Holgrin will be pleased with what we have to tell him." As the others at the table began introducing themselves to Darro, Parison broke the seal on the second scroll and began to read its contents. An expression of grimness crossed his features as his eyes moved back and forth across the page, the words within hitting him like arrows. As he finished reading the scroll, lines of determination creased the man's grimance. He finished the scroll, rolled it up, and placed it not uncaringly into his backpack and stood up.

Something new begins. And something ends.

"My friends," he said, his voice serious and mixed with sadness and regret. "I fear the time has come for me to say farewell to all of you. That was from the temple of Sarenrae in Absalom. My services are needed at the Temple of Redeeming Sun in Merab." A sigh escaped his lips. "I must have made a lasting impression on my brethren when we were there dealing with that business with Veshtahz and the cultists because they asked for me specifically. I have to leave immediately."

Parison looks down at his feet for a moment, feelings of sadness and guilt welling up inside him. "I hoped I'd never have to make this choice," he said in a thick voice filled with sadness. "Save Janus, all of you knew that if I had to choose between Sarenrae or the Society of which I would choose. That time has come, ready or not."

Taking a deep breath, Parison thinks carefully about the words he will say next. "It has been an honor and a privilege to work with, travel, and get to know each and every one of you. We've had our fights and differences of opinion at different times but I feel like those times served to bring us closer together instead of pushing us apart. Janus, my only regret lies with you and that being I didn't have the time to come to know you as well as I have the others but you have earned my respect and admiration in that time."

He looks around at the others. "Hepsubia, Zithembe, Maria...and Rumble," he says. "All of you have a special place in my heart and my thoughts and you are more than just fellow Pathfinders and friends. You have become like family and I have come to know and love all of you in that regard. Thank you for giving me a chance and for being my friend. May Sarenrae watch over you and bless all of you in your trials and adventures yet to come."

Zithembe only frowns slightly and then nods his head. "I will be said to part ways. You have always been a light. Thank you for your blessing and be safe in your endeavors."

Rumble pushes himself away from the table and swaggers up to Parison. Clasping the man's forearm, he prods his armored chest. "Bein' Battle Brothahs is ah bond fer life," he explains. Usually it ain't for long, but that's besides the point.

"As long as ye got yer armor an' tha will ta fight fer all thah is holy, aye'll be by yer side, yah 'ear me?" Although his words are strong his eyes are welling. Letting go of his forearm, he hands Parison a small iron hammer. "Sarenrae is yer Goddess, an' aye respect thah. Buh sometimes ye need tha help of anothah, ah fresh perspective, if ye will."

As the Sarenrite leaves, he gives a final nod of goodbye.

Hepsubia hugs the priest, and (not so) silenty weeps on his shoulders

You will be missed, I hope you know that. The joke of "save our soles" you made against the demon in Heaven, when you thrown your shoe to its ugly face, will never be forgotten. Kiss Sarenae for me next time you see her, will you. Tell her I'm grateful she sent us a friend like you.

Maria watches as the others give their well wishes and specific comments. She fixes him with a long stare, "Well, that's unfortunate. I'm sure Hep disagrees as she may wish to claim this role, but I'm 93% sure that you were the oil that kept this pathfinding machine moving smoothly. Your skills, spells, divine power and conscience will be sorely missed."

She tops off her glass of wine, "But, things do change and thus is the nature of the world. I salute you in this new endeavor and pray that you do not forget to write." The elf glances at Rumble questioningly, even if some of us probably can't read.

Raising the glass high, "To Parison and New Beginnings!"

_____________________

The next day (or whenever) as they begin their travels back to report the success of their mission, Maria surprisingly chooses to travel next to the Toragian Dwarf. Quiet at the beginning she finally gets the nerve to speak, "So, that sucks about Parison, right? Anyway, he and I had a deal worked out. I have been collecting scrolls for emergency use in our missions and having Parison prepare to cast them if necessary. Unfortunately him leaving puts my contingency plans in a quandary. I'm well aware you have at least SOME knowledge of the divine spellcasting arts, but know not the extent of your skills. Would you... would you like to look them over and see if you can cast any? And if so, maybe carry them with you each mission in a similar role as Parison? I mean, if you can read them of course."

Janus notices the strong feelings that Parison's departure elicits, and keeps their distance. Privately, they are thankful that competent Pathfinders were assigned the mission to Uringen.

In a quiet moment Janus seeks out Zithembe."We will be staying here a while. Mather Nithra must be ended, and Uringen may experience change. Please give our report to the Venture Captain. And please accept our thanks for your aid."

Rumble looks sideways at Maria. "Aye'm yer second choice an' ye don't even think aye can read? Mus' be tha Elven way o' askin' fer help!"

He lets his response simmer for a moment before bursting into laughter. "HAHAAAAA! Ah course aye can look 'em over. Yer righ', aye'm jus' not as good at thah sorta thing as Parison is, buh aye'm sure aye can do sumthin'," he says, taking whatever scrolls Maria offers.

The next several days are a blur as you keep your end of the bargain with Henbane Allseaons. When the task is done Parison and Janus make their departures - Parison for Merab and Janus to remain in Uringen for a spell longer - and the rest of you begin your return trip to Tymon to give your report.

The incessant beat of hammer against anvils and weaponry greets the four of you once again as you enter into Smine's Weaponworks, along with the same oppressive wave of heat and the acrid smell of coal. Venture-Captain Holgarin Smine looks up from his work, expression brightening as he realizes who just walked in.

"Ah hah! I see you made it back and all in one piece, eh?" he greets you with a broad smile. "Mayor Ogden sent word of your success, though she didn't go into all the particulars. I've got some new business of a sort for you lot, but there's time enough for you to have a drink with me and tell me all about how the job went..."

Some time later...

"Well now, that's quite a story," the VC whistles after you've given your report. "Who'd athought that tower'd be that special! Sounds like you all did a fine job of it in Uringen - well done."

Smine takes another swig of water from his glass. "While you were gone I got word from ol' Jorsal up in Nerosyan. He's got a task for you lot and asked that I send you his way once you got back to Tymon. I know it's a mite short notice but such is life, eh?"

"Don't you folks worry, though. I heard about your priest and that quiet fellow getting pulled away to other paths and so I went ahead and sent for a couple more agents to join you. They should be getting here about any time now."

It's about this time that there comes a knock at the office door.

"Ah! That must be them now! Come on in, the door's open!"
______________

Effie and Grandfrogger, please feel free to hop into Gameplay! Details of the previous mission kept vague since it doesn't look like Hawthwile has played it yet ;)

A very drunk Hepsubia shakily holds a vial, and throws it in her ear.

Shorry, I have a drinking problem.

Another vial is opened, after a few tries, and gulped.

Itsh so shad zhat Parishon hazh gôone!I'll drink to his mammaries, eerr, mememoriez!

The elf winces as the sour taste of the alchemical concoction burns her throat. Knowing it can be defeated by the copious amount, the potion calls for some reinforcement, and the hand acts on automatic, uncorking another alchemist kindness vial, before throwing (most of) its contents down Hep's opened mouth.

It takes a few moments for the potion to take effect, but then the whimsical elf is back to her relative normality

Man, I feel like I'm still hearing hammers striking anvils..

A smiling Effie is waiting for the group at Smine's forge. Knowing she'll be working with her friends again lifts the honey-skinned ifrit's spirits after her long journey and arduous training in Tian Xia.

But he smile falls away in an instant at Hepsubia's drunken words.

"Parison's... gone?" she sobs.

"By the gods! What happened? How did he die? Poor, decent, honest Parison! I... I... I though we'd.... <a-huck> <a-huck>"

Effie coughs as tears stain her face.

For Grandfrogger's benefit - Effie is a slight, varisian ifrit dressed in colourful, light clothes well suited to an acrobat or entertainer. She has a backpack and a bandolier across her chest but no obvious weapons. She wears a mithril shirt and a buckler for protection.

It's about this time that there comes a knock at the office door. "Ah! That must be them now! Come on in, the door's open!"

”Open, no.” The thin voice on the other side of the door sounds reproachful. After a few seconds, the offending portal opens to reveal a small figure with mottled gray-green skin cloaked in a thick woolen robe and leaning heavily on a gnarled walking stick. ”Unlocked, yes. Open now, it is.” Large red eyes squint from beneath the cowl at the room’s occupants, unblinking until a long tongue emerges from below to lick one clean.

”The Grandfrogger, you may call me,” he continues. ”A shaman of my tribe, now a shaman of the Pathfinder tribe. A conduit to the spirits around us, you may consider me.” Slowly the frog-like figure bows, straightening even more slowly. ”My condolences for your loss, you have.”

Zithembe moves to the ifrit and rests a jade hand upon her shoulder. "He is not dead," he corrects her. "He has returned to Merab in service to Sarenrae at the temple."

Removing his hand, he waits until the clarification sinks in and she composes herself before turning to their newest companion. He smiles slightly and says with a nod of his head, "It will be good to have another who understands the unseen. I will caution you that Hepsubia's statements require careful parsing even when she is sober. However, I note that she is far more clear in her meaning in her current inebriated state." He strokes his lip with one finger and looks thoughtfully into empty space.

Also for Grandfrogger's benefit: Zithembe is a jade shabti instead of the "usual" Osirian gold ones. They just don't have any good choices for avatars.

Maria adds a small little interjection, almost like a footnote, "And to further clarify, he is still serving Sarenrae in his physical body, not as some sort of spirit. Effie, You are welcome to write to him if you wish."

She turns to the newcomer with her journal out to make a few notes, "Hello, The Grandfrogger, may I just call you Grandfrogger instead? Regardless, I welcome you to our humble group of pathfinders. We've been pretty consistently together for a majority of our... escapades."

The elf continues, "But enough about that, I'm Maria Keurlara, practitioner of the alchemical arts as well as a decent shot with a bow. I'm pretty well traveled too in my search for furthering my knowledge of things. What, pray tell, are you able to do as a conduit of the spirits?"

Maria is taller, but not exactly towering over an average human at exactly six feet. Her frame is thin and lithe, covered by simple clothing and few accoutrements. The clothing is obviously tailored to cover most of her skin, but not restrain movement. Visible under the shirt is a form fitting shiny chain link shirt. Her dirty blonde hair is tucked neatly under her hat with a few strands falling down and framing her long pointed ears. No makeup and a pale complexion allow her to not catch many beings attention, which is useful for her research. A single bow, full quiver and simple backpack are slung over her shoulders.

Some of the clanging and smashing of metal on metal ceases and Rumble pushes through into the room as well. Wiping soot and sweat off his brow, he offers a hand to Grandfrogger.

With the help of a fellow Dwarven smith, he starts strapping what appears to be a pile of rocks to his body. "Sledge an' aye stand up front an' whack anythin' an' everythin' in tha name o' tha AAAAALMIGHTY TOOOORRRAAAAAG!"

"Smine, yer forge is doin' great. Tha bellows 're pumpin' and the fire is roarin' like she should! Whah's tha mission?"

Rumble looks like an animated boulder while in his stoneplate. Sledge is a hunk of granite affixed to a haft to create a warhammer.

"He's... not dead?" Effie's tears stop and her smile returns. She wipes her sooty face, then looks sheepish. "Parison's just 'gone' to another country then. I'm a fool aren't I?"

Gods, I'll miss him.

"I'll certainly write, Maria. Maybe I'll even pay him a surprise visit when our schedule allows! But for now I've got to put my training into practice! Those Quain monks are hard taskmasters! I've not got the patience to study in a monastery for long, but the sensei said that experience is the best teacher anyway and sent me back after a couple of months.

So. Here I am again!"

Effie chuckles to herself at Rumble's 'warcry.'

It's good to be back.

A still slighty intoxicated Hepsubia looks at Effie and giggles

You know, your cat was really strange-looking. twasn't the right scale, if you catch what I mean. But your disguise, Effie..

She gives a double-thumbs up
I barely recongnized you. And I wasn't drunk, at the time, was I?

He shakes his head and says, ”You are not a fool. In this way of life, death is a common end.”
——-
”That is what senseis says when they tire of you,” Zithembe then remarks deadpan.

He shakes his head at Hepsubia’s question regarding her status during the fey assault, ”I do not believe so.”

The Grandfrogger stares back at Rumble for several seconds without blinking. The long tongue perks out, tasting the air. ”Warm, salted, and smoky. Like a fine Andoran steak, you are.” One hand holds onto the walking stick while the other gently touches the dwarf’s hand. ”The Grandfrogger, you may call me.”

” I will caution you that Hepsubia's statements require careful parsing even when she is sober.”

” What, pray tell, are you able to do as a conduit of the spirits?"

”Parsing?” The Grandfrogger’s brow furrows. ”Not the only one to state her words unclearly, I see. As for what a conduit of the spirits can do...” He turns to face Maria. ”Mostly listening, it is. Many things, nature wishes to tell us - but quiet enough to hear, few are.” He blinks. ”As for what you will call me... What you will call me, you will. Perhaps if there is not much of this parsing, understand I will.”

"Smine, yer forge is doin' great. Tha bellows 're pumpin' and the fire is roarin' like she should! Whah's tha mission?"

"Haw! Thank ye brother - it's a job, keeping it and the lodge running but I've never been one to back down from a challenge," Smine grins back at Rumble. "Jorsal didn't give a lot of specifics, just something about a military mission."

Here, Smine's smile drops and his expression grows quite serious.

"Remember, that's demon territory up in those parts. Whatever he's got in mind for you, best take it seriously."
______________

I'll officially get us rolling later tonight or early tomorrow, hopefully~

Rumble nods seriously. "Demons, eh? Those're tha Cold Iron hatin' ones, ay?" he asks, looking to Maria for confirmation. "If so, aye've already got jus' tha thing tah intrahduce to 'em!"

Pulling a second warhammer from his back, this one is dark grey and more traditional looking. "Still 'aven't found ah name fer 'er. She didnae do so well agains' tha Fey, buh mehbe she'll prove 'erself agains' Demons!"
________
He'll pick up a silver one eventually. A hammer without a name is just a tool!

Maria starts looking back through her stack of journals for any notes.

Knowledge: Planes Take 10 on Basic Demon Traits + Inspiration: 10 + 10 + 1d6 ⇒ 10 + 10 + (1) = 21

"Hmmm, gimme a few and let me confirm. I'd love to say 'sure' right off the bat, but you know how things are. Memories are faulty and swap connections sometimes."

Though Maria knows that the finer details can vary depending on the type of demon she does recall that they generally share several of the same traits. Demons are typically immune to poison and electrical effects as well as resistant to fire, cold, and acid effects. They can often summon other demons of the same type as themselves to aid them in battle and their natural weapons - as well as any weapon they wield - carry the powers of evil as well as chaos.

She also recalls that demons have powers of telepathy and are able to speak the Abyssal, Celestial, and Draconic tongues.

VC Smine gives both Rumble and Maria an approving nod. "Aye, you've both got the right of it - demons aren't to be trifled with, even the least of them. But it surely sounds like you lot have good heads on your shoulders and have already prepared - or will prepare - accordingly."

He rises from his seat and nods. "I won't keep you folks any longer since you've got another lengthy trip ahead of you. Anything you think you might need you should be able to pick up here or when you get to Nerosyan. Otherwise, good luck and may the gods watch over you!"

End: Intermission
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Another post to follow, please stand by~