GM OfAnything's Port Godless (Inactive)

Game Master terraleon

"Many men come to the races seeking luck." she says eyes twinkling, "Some find it. Others don't.

Jaina sits up from her reclining couch, "I know the man you speak of. He bought a round for that group of guards," she nods toward the men, "He was complaining loudly about his need for slaves."

She pauses to take a piece of fruit from the bowl next to her, "He left a short time ago, upset." She makes a show of eating it without lifting her veil enough for Hakaam to glimpse her face.

"I don't know where you go to relax, Hakaam, but I enjoy the baths." Her tone is amused, playful even, but with a sense of finality that tells you your conversation is over.

Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (16) + (1) + 9 = 26

"Ah, but luck is only sought by men who cannot forge their own fates. I pity them at times." He gets up and bows down all the while, daringly keeping his eyes on his interlocutor. "Well then Jaina Al-Shair, Desert Bloom of Azir, I will doubtless see you again. Certainly at least at old Al-Mounir's tea parlor at 3 on Fireday. My business should be concluded by then, and I will have time to relax and exchange pleasant banter in insightful company. Till then."

And without waiting any further he steps back towards his fellow Pathfinders. "I hope we are prepared to conclude this withing the next few days, because I will have pressing business by then. In the meantime, how much do you know about the old Jistkan bathhouse?"

Hakaam returns the group and together, the party leaves the hound races and a disappointed bookie behind. You quickly find your way to the bathhouse. Any such evidence of its legendarily ancient heritage have been lost to centuries of repairs, yet the well-maintained marble facade of the Jistka Bathhouse nonetheless advertises an elegant facility.

As you enter the facility, you are greeted by a young woman at a marble counter, "Hello and welcome to the Jistka Bathouse." she smiles, "Is this your first time visiting our facility?" she pauses only a moment before continuing, "Common baths are down the hall, and public lockers are to the left. Admittance is one silver piece. For a gold piece, you get access to the exclusive baths located down the spiral staircase behind me."

She gestures behind her to a staircase where an athletic man stands eyeing the unusual group of customers you are. A similarly built man emerges from a side door, carrying a stack of white robes, which he places beneath the counter. "Does anyone need a robe?" he asks.

Both the men and the woman are dressed loose-fitting white garments reminiscent of monks' robes, though they lack the balanced stance that marks those with martial training.

Turathal steps forward and puts down 10gp for the group.
"For myself, and any of my companions who choose to join me in the exclusive baths. Keep the change. Your services are greatly appreciated.
By any chance, would there be more secure storage than public lockers? Those sound rather...common."

Hakaam nods. "I believe that perhaps your other patrons would be most pleased with my decision to keep a robe upon myself."

GM, does the light/conditions seemingly lend themselves to sneaking around in this place? Hakaam is in the habit of using alchemical allocation to drinks elixirs of stealth when the need arises.

"Don't be ashamed of your flesh my friend. It does not define you. I will not take a robe. I make no apologies for my scars, nor my mutations."

As Drokk speaks, he consumes an alchemical infusion.False Life

false life: 1d10 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 temporary hp, duration 8 hours.

Drokk then hands a vial to Nigel. "On the right, Nigel." The tumour familiar takes the vial and carefully pours the contents into one of his black, rubbery gloves. Loading second Poisoner's Glove with Drokk's mutagen.

"Iso has also spent time in sewers. Iso did not like that any more than the bathhouse. At least the smell of sewers is honest refuse, not the.." and here his face takes on a pained expression. "perfume"

He leers a little at the woman in the veil before leaving.

"Iso thinks lady in veil is of dubious modesty. Maybe she would enjoy meeting with Iso later. " he suggests to any who would listen as they head towards the house-of-disgusting-smells.

He shudders a little as he passes the doorway, casting a final glance over his shoulder as many an adventurer before him may have done when entering a dungeon and not knowing if they would ever return.

"Iso has no need of a robe! " he happily pronounces.

He'll stack his clothes, armour and weapons in the locker provided.

"Iso once met grandmaster torch in bathhouse just like this. Iso wonders if he will pop up again."

While happy to disrobe, Iso does his best to avoid actually getting into any of the pools.

Looking around to his other, non-Iso companions, Hakaam surreptitiously comments "Twenty gold to whoever casts "Create Water" on this man."

Bones ask the attendants "By chance did a short bearded Taldan stop by earlier?"

diplomacy: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13

He watches for their reactions too.
sense motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

The man passing out robes says, "There are private changing rooms for our more modest patrons. Just here, to the right." he gestures.

"By any chance, would there be more secure storage than public lockers? Those sound rather...common."

The woman takes Turathal's coin and produces six lengths of twine, strung with a wooden token, "These will admit you to the Grotto." she demonstrates how they can be worn either around the neck or at the wrist. She takes a small silver key and adds it to the length she gives Turathal. "The private changing rooms have chests to secure more valuable personal effects. Yours is number four." She indicates the side door on the right.

Bones ask the attendants "By chance did a short bearded Taldan stop by earlier?"

The woman taps her chin. "I think a man by that description went down to the exclusive baths. We see many people here, though."

Bones, you don't sense that she is lying to you.

Everyone, please confirm your state of dress. Bones, Hakime and Turathal haven't mentioned specifically. I note that Iso and Doctor are nude, and Hakaam wears a robe. Nigel only has gloves on.

------------

Once you've stored your belongings and made your way down the spiral staircase, you find yourself in a dimly lit hallway. This broad hallway is lined with hooks and shelves that hold dry towels, bottles of scented oil, and a variety of combs and brushes. Several buckets of water line the southern wall. A thick curtain hangs at the end of the hall and ahead you hear the sound of running water.

See map linked in header. Light is dim; it is possible to stealth. You would know this before stowing items/descending, Hakaam.

If secure accomidation for Iso's gear is available, he will use it.

Placing the string around his wrist, the profusely sweating Iso wanders the hall in his full immodest nudity. Shed of his bulky armour the man is tall, but perhaps not quite as broad of shoulder as he would normally appear.

He is covered in tatoos of various birds of prey, and as he walks the movement of his muscles give the impression of some of them opening and closing their beaks.

It takes several minutes for Nigel to assist Doctor Drokk in removing his armour and stowing his weapons. Drokk looks suspiciously at the comings and goings around the storage area, satisfying himself that it is at least reasonably secure. He keeps his key tied around his wrist and held tightly in his hand.

The naked, grey hulk that is Doctor Drokk is not pleasing to the eye. He is apparently a walking mass of scar tissue. Much of his body has clearly been burned, and what hasn't been burned has been cut. Some of the cut-scars are obviously deliberately placed, forming elaborate patterns. In addition to his prominent hunchback, there are numerous other lumps and knots of tissue. He has large tattoos in a primitivist style. There is very little flesh that is not marked in some way.

Nigel sits proudly atop Doctor Drokk's hunchback.

Once he's in the changing rooom, Turathal will use his wand of Mage Armor, then pull down on his Sleeves of Many Garments to make it appear as if he's just wearing the bathhouse robes (his own mundane outfit is monk's robes anyway).
He places his weapons, bandoliers of alchemical items, and his backpack into the locker. Then he uses his Wand of Heightened Awareness and places this final item into his locker before locking it up.

he's still wearing his gloves, headband and eyes of the eagle. Not certain if sleeves of many garments disguises any of that, but either way he's still wearing those items.

Once we're downstairs, Turathal whispers, "I can use vanish on Hakaam and myself in order to remain hidden for half a minute or so, try and eavesdrop a bit. Then we could slip into a corner while the rest of you come in after counting to 30 or so..."

Once away from the bath attendants, Hakaam will whisper to his fellows: "If anyone has the ability to manifest Mage Armor upon this poor fool, I would be much obliged."

In the meantime, he drinks an Alchemical Allocation extract to then down and spit out an Elixir of Hiding. "Would you like me to hide away, armed?" he softly asks his companions.

Quietly, to avoid be overheard by any but his fellows, Drokk speaks: "We are not here to abduct 'Maroc'. Whilst it is wise to be prepared for trouble, we may expect our friend to cooperate. We were given appropriate words for him. We should not risk outright breaches of rules and procedures."

Hakime will wear a robe, modestly covering up her form which is pleasingly curvy. "I think a few of us scattered about while you talk to him would make it less likely that he might bolt. He doesn't know us, so it's unlikely that he'd know who he dealing with or that the party is indeed all together."

Hakaam, roll a Sleight of Hand check if you want to bring a weapon past the attendants unseen. Otherwise, everyone is unarmed.

Turathal, what are your gloves? I didn't notice any in your gear, unless they are mundane. Also, mention if you mage armor Hakaam. You may cast it unnoticed.

The woman at the desk hides an amused smile as Turathal emerges from the changing room in a robe and funny lenses, but makes no comment. The man stands aside and the party files down the staircase. The hallway is lined with hooks and shelves that hold dry towels, bottles of scented oil, and a variety of combs and brushes. The mix of floral

Hakaam, confident is his ability to remain unseen, urges Turathal not to loudly cast spells in such a small space. He moves forward to peek at the cold bath ahead.

Map updated, Hakaam sees:
The air in the chilled bath is cool and humid and the lighting is dim. Faint lanterns reflect off the water and the sound of running water echoes off the tile floor and walls.

Fifteen bathers, both men and women, are enjoying the water. Most of the women are wearing robes, but not all. Only a few men are covered. Bathers murmur softly among each other, or have their eyes closed in relaxation. One man stands out from across the pool, so often have you heard his description: a bearded Taldan man with a faint scar. His eyes are lidded, his face relaxed. The copper merchant Maroc, or as you know him to be: former Pathfinder Eando Kline.

Looks like Turathal might be the only one able to cast mage armor; if you would like to, great, otherwise, no biggie. Let's try that sleight of hand check; I was not sure that I could considering it's size.

Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 1d6 + 16 ⇒ (18) + (4) + 16 = 38

Yeah, you can really only hide light weapons on your body. You carried your sword down wrapped in a towel without their notice.

oof. I stopped mid sentence in that original description.

The mix of floral and spiced aromas with the smell of wet stone is a pleasant contrast to the company of Iso.

Iso sits on a lounger near the door, ready to jump to his feet and block the exit if the merchant makes a run for it.

In no way does he go anywhere near the water.

"Iso finds it pleasingly cool down here." he rumbles, happily ogling the women in the room.

Bones takes a bit longer to undress considering he has a breast plate to remove. He keeps his belt and ring of protection on and puts his wooden holy symbol in the robe's pocket. Securing his other gear before descending the spiral stairs and joining the others for a soak in the baths.

The gloves are mundane, but they're covering up the Sunburst of Ra tattooed to his hand (i.e. holy symbol tattoo). Bought them at the beginning of scenario. Just simple gloves.

Turathal enters the bath, looking for someone that matches what we know about Maroc. He nods in greeting to anyone who meets his eye.

Hakaam observes from the sides, looking at the robed men for a few more seconds before returning to meet with his fellow agents.

Anything odd about them? I mean, how many modest men can there be? Hakaam himself is only wearing something because he's trying to hide something.

Perception?: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (16) + 17 = 33

"It seems" finally states Hakaam as he slides back in the midst of his companions "that our man is alone and asleep. But I feel ... Nervous. Something is off. I will let you approach if you so decide to, but I would advise some caution."

Hakaam observes the room for a moment. Unable to detect anything unusual, he reports back to his companions.

Iso finds there are no chairs outside the pool. Unwilling to enter the pool, he sits his bare hide on the cool stone floor near the entrance. Bones is slightly more adventurous, sliding into the pool next to a trio of ladies who nod their greetings before returning to their own idle conversation.

When Turathal enters the room, the men across the pool nudge each other and not-so-subtly gesture toward him. The women with their backs to the entrance peek behind themselves and start to whisper. They eye the aasimar curiously. One makes a gesture suggestive of anatomy they've yet to see of Turathal, and the three of them break into quickly hushed giggles.

At this commotion, the man you identify as Maroc opens his eyes, sees Turathal, rolls them, then sinks down into the water enough to cover his ears as he stares up to the ceiling above.

Hakime sits on the edge of the pool, not too far from Maroc, but not so near she sets off his 'proximity' meter. She dangles her legs and feet in the water, enjoying the feel of it on her skin.

Drokk, and Nigel, enter the bathing room.

A curious custom indeed. I wonder what drives it? This is a hot country. The bath may be pleasant enough.

Drokk scans the room for threats whilst he ponders whether or not to try the bath.

perception: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 21

Is that a door or curtain to the east? Any signs, or indication what lies beyond?
perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (19) + 14 = 33 -5 if not sight-based

Turathal gives the ladies his most winning smile, then pulls at his gloves in a suggestive manner before he drops his robe and enters the pool. He sits between whom we believe is Maroc and the woman. He smiles and introduces himself to the woman, then to Maroc.

"Hello, I am Turathal, traveler from afar, and I am delighted to be able to visit your famous baths. Is it true the people of Azir share my beliefs that it is a joy to explore, cooperate and report?" He gives a quick wink in Maroc's direction before turning to the woman. "Because I believe we would both thoroughly enjoy finding new ways to cooperate."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (14) + 18 = 32

Sense motive, especially on Maroc at mention of Explore, Cooperate and Report: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

That is a curtain to the east. A sauna, you gather.

A nude man emerges from the curtain to the east, pink with heat. He eyess the assortment of unusual persons before cautiously entering the cold water.

As Hakime and Drokk enter the baths, the conversation begins again. A mean-looking man gets out of the pool, sneering "Freaks" as he exits. More pitying whispers of "plane-touched" and "gods-cursed" bounce around the pool.

The woman Turathal approached giggles nervously. "I'm not so sure about that last one." She is not shy about admiring his body.

Maroc does his best to remain impassive, but he can't help but roll his eyes at the word 'cooperate'. He snorts in derisive amusement at Turathal's pass at the woman.

Hakaam slinks back towards to pool, taking note of the man leaving before stepping around quietly towards his destination. I know that I should be beyond such low-level pettiness, but I think I will ruin this man before I leave. Nothing like poverty to sober up one's life.

Turathal takes a deliberate second look at Maroc, as if puzzling over something.
"You are Maroc the copper merchant, are you not? We have a mutual friend who wanted me to say hello. Sasha Antif-Arah sends her regards—healthy and alive from Andoran. Perhaps we should get together later and chat about her. So many stories about Sasha, and so few appropriate for public discussion. Perhaps you know of a place where we could have a drink in private and chat about old friends?"

Not certain if diplo or bluff on this, a bit of both, so here's both
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (9) + 18 = 27
Bluff: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

Iso's presence slowly makes itself known in the small, damp room that is the bath. The women leave first, pinching their noses, and most of the men follow shortly thereafter. They dry off in the hall, gossiping about strange visitors, before climbing the stairs.

Eando Kline's eyes open to the ceiling, and he slowly sits up in the bath. "You get right to the point, don't you? You have my attention. As long as she is alive, we can talk more."

At this, another man looks around the room nervously before gathering his robe and hurrying out of the room. The only other occupants of the pool remaining are two nude men whispering to each other near the fountain. They've shown no reaction at all to the unusual happenings in the pool.

Kline floats to the far end of the pool, "We can talk here, thank you. Forgive me if I can't bring myself to trust your good intentions."

Doctor Drokk nods towards the two strangers, and says to Kline: "Friends of yours?"

Pure Legion could have people here.

"There is a bad smell down here."
Iso sniffs. "Fresh air is better!" he rumbles.

"Though Iso does enjoy the cool of this chamber.".

As the nervous looking man gets up to leave, Iso, the master of subtly, gets up and slowly follows him.

stealth: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13

As Iso turns to leave, he nearly walks into a Pure Legionnaire as she stalks into the baths. She is wearing leather lamellar armor, a stylized cloak, and a scimtar at her belt, but carries only a scroll of parchment.

"Maroc!" she announces, "We've been looking all over for you. " She walks halfway around the pool before noticing the unusual nature of the party. Her eyes narrow, "Are these planes-touched friends of Kline's as well? Where is that smuggler hiding?" her gaze moves from 'Maroc' to each member of the party.

She points at Maroc, "This man is a known associate of the idol-smuggling fugitive Eando Kline. What do you know of Kline and his whereabouts?" she asks you all.

Doctor Drokk rises from his spot in the pool. He addresses the Pure Legionnaire.

"Madam I am sorely disappointed. I know the Pure Legion to be a scholarly and noble organisation, but I detect in your words a base prejudice. No person gets to choose her parents. Do not assume that any person's parentage is an indicator of her lawfulness. It is folly to take physical appearance as evidence of criminality. One's race does not dictate one's character. You should be ashamed. You dishonour the Legion."

"We are not friends with this Kline person, as you so eloquently put it. Indeed, we do not know him. And we have business with Maroc. Legitimate business that has nothing to do with the Pure Legion. It involves a private matter that is none of your concern. Surely you're not here to interfere with legitimate business matters because you're trying to track down some rumors. Now that he knows you're interested in speaking with him, I'm certain citizen Maroc would be happy to answer your questions. You can find him at his stall tomorrow. Show him the respect due to those who help pay your salary through taxes and business. The man deserves some modicum of respect. Accosting him a bathhouse as if he were a commoon criminal. Is he up on charges? DO you have proof of some crime? Then stop harassing a man trying to find a little peace and relaxation."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (18) + 18 = 36

And if they do have proof, oopsie. Sorry guys. Seems the right play since they've already spotted him...

The woman looks between Turathal, Doctor Drokk and Maroc, her tone is much friendlier this time around, "I'm sorry, sir. It has been a long, frustrating day trying to track this man down. I'm not inclined to pass up a promising lead after all that work. Goodness knows my superiors will have a few words with me about letting a key witness walk. If you tell me what I want to know now, it will save us all the time and effort tomorrow."

You've succeeded in improving her attitude by showing a willingness to cooperate in the future. I need another Diplomacy check to convince her to leave without answers to her questions, this counts as a request for aid that could result in punisment.

In the interest of moving quickly, if you have Know(local) please make a roll in a spoiler for me. It's not related to what is happening now.

Drokk is unwilling to outright lie to the Legionnaire, even though he is unimpressed with her conduct. He lets the more socially confident Turathal continue.

She's a junior officer. I hope her superiors are of better quality.

Hakime remains silent til after Turathal speaks, watching and listening.

"My friend here makes a good point. We are not asking you to forego your important lead, only delay your conversation with him a bit longer. That isn't asking so much, is it?"

diplo aid: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25

It would be unwise of me to speak much more at this juncture, for I might have to lie, and that simply isn't going to happen. Things left unsaid are not lies, but in this case I see the possible need for prevarication. I will let others without such strictures do most of the talking.

Iso scratches away at his beard. Something in it appears to not like the humid atomousphere of the bathhouse.

"Who is Kline?" he asks. "Iso is a renown hunter and tracker. Iso is sure he Amalgamate his own duties with such a fun task.

He quickly adds "Iso is also curious if there is a bounty for Kline's return and where it would collected when Iso succeeds."

Bones doesn't say anything, but keeps an eye on the Pure Legionnaire

sense motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

"I assure you, Maroc will still be available for your questions first thing on the morrow. Our business is most pressing, a matter of life and death, or we would not be bothering him while he was taking his repast. I wish it were something that we could in good conscience ask the Legion for its aid, but it is a personal matter."
Turathal offers a respectful bow.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (20) + 18 = 38
With aid, that's a 40

"Until the morrow?"

Hakaam eyes the woman suspiciously, but otherwise keeps to the shadows. It looks like my help is not needed. Excellent.

The woman looks uncertain for a moment, then relents, "Very well. Until tomorrow. She gives a sharp whistle, and another legionnaire emerges from behind the curtain. Together they leave and climb the stairs.

"Thanks for that." Kline sighs in relief as he sits up in the bath. "I may be able to stay in Azir a little while longer."

He climbs out of the bath and gestures for you to follow. In the hall, he sheds his wet robe and dons a fresh dry one, then leads you behind the curtain at the end of the hall.

Wooden benches and partitions line most of the walls of this rectangular room, and the air is kept warm and humid. Four smooth tables stand in the center of the room, and several clients lie on them receiving massages from the bathhouse staff. The eastern wall is subdivided into several smaller chambers containing broad brass bowls that hold heated rocks for creating additional steam.

Kline nods to the staff as he leads the party to the furthest chamber, feels for a catch, and reveals a secret door, "This leads to the sewers beneath Azir." He leads you down the passageway to a small chamber. The heat flowing from the sauna makes this chamber somewhat comfortable in your state of undress. "We can talk privately here." he begins, "Now what was it you wanted from me?"

Appearing from the shadows, Hakaam smiles and simply asks: "Jahani Jodinaj's Riftwarden expedition. What do you know of it?"

Kline looks at you all, and sighs, "I know where the Riftwardens are, but it’s not an answer you’re going to like,” Kline says with grimace. “They attempted a raid on a compound full of Blackfire Adepts who were masquerading as slavers, but the plan didn’t work as they had hoped. For all their talent at magic, the Riftwardens aren’t the best at keeping their heads down when planning an attack."

Kline begins pacing small circles in the chamber, "The Blackfire Adepts caught wind of their plan and struck first, capturing all four of the Riftwardens perhaps a week ago." he shakes his head, "From what I’ve been able to gather, the Blackfire Adepts are planning on moving to greener pastures—which could mean practically anywhere other than Rahadoum—and they’ve been making the most of their remaining time in Azir by interrogating their captives rather ruthlessly. It seems the Blackfire Adepts just can’t pass up a good opportunity to gloat over their arch nemeses, but they’re sure to tire of it soon and just execute the lot of them."

He comes to a stop, looking each of you in the eye, "Last I heard, the slavers are departing on a caravan the morning after tomorrow, and you can bet that the Riftwardens will be dead before then.”

"Who are these 'Blackfire Adepts', and where will we find them? What are their capabilities?"

"Interesting. And where is this compound?"

At Doctor Drokks question, Eando scoffs, “You don’t know? Didn’t the Decemvirate brief you at all? The Blackfire Adepts seek the destruction of civilization using terrible outsiders. They’re not nice people, and the Riftwardens oppose them. If you need a comparison, think of them like the Aspis Consortium to your Society, though that assumes either side qualifies as ‘the good guys.’”

"The compound itself is in the northwestern edge of the city. It tends to see slightly less foot traffic than anywhere else." he says to Hakaam, "Do you know the place?"

As a part of this interaction, you each may attempt to impress Kline with a Diplomacy check, though he doesn't care much for Pathfinders.

"The Decemvirate told us very little. We were to seek you out to find out what you knew of the Riftwardens' failed expedition, so as to lend them aid.

Is this why you left the Pathfinder Society, Kline? You felt kept in the dark. Manipulated, perhaps. The world is full of secrets, it is true. But peddling in contraband? Surely, a man of your talents can do better than this."

diplomacy: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (9) - 2 = 7

Drokk is no diplomat. He's direct to the point of being tactless. He knows he can terrify, and he's fine with that if it keeps people out of his way.