GM Tektite's PFS # 4-14 My Enemy's Enemy (Inactive)

Game Master Hawkwen Agricola

DOT

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“Oh c’mon, Roland! You could see the chalk flying up where my ball hit the line – it was clearly in.”

Bluff: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

Luisila is taking advantage of some downtime by playing a racquet game in the Heidmarch’s outdoor recreational facilities with one of her previous companions.

She is wearing white clerical vestments of Kurgess, the god of sport and physical prowess, although she has used a seam ripper to remove any of the trappings of the Strong Man’s faith on both the polo-style top and the skirt, replacing them with cloth badges of a black wasp.

She wears her silver holy symbol of Calistria on a fine chain over her shirt and has folded and tied the crimson scarf Zynep presented her with last mission around her forehead as a head band.

She pauses when she sees the messenger approach.

Within a couple days of arriving in Magnimar, the party received urgent instructions from Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch to head to the Dryad’s Trousseau, a flower shop in the Dockway district of Magnimar, to investigate a recent crime meant to frame the Pathfinder Society!

It’s a cold twilight in the Dockway, and the salt-sprayed streets still teem with activity. A young city guard stands outside an ornately decorated storefront, the window frame adorned with baroque carvings of wild vines and flowers. The guard speaks: “Oye, Pathfinders. Glad you all came so quick. Here’s the latest place robbed, this afternoon by a group dressed like you lot. The shopkeep is laid up in the flat upstairs—his landlady’s taking care of him. She thinks it was Pathfinders, too, but I talked her into speaking with you.” The young man knocks on a narrow door to the right of the shop entrance. “Look, I know you Pathfinders are all right. Cap’n Heidmarch’s done good in this city, so I’m happy to help you start sortin’ out what’s behind these crimes. But public opinion is goin’ south. The sooner you figure out who the guilty parties are, the better. Good luck. Oh, almost forgot—I was ta give this to you.” The guard hands over a leather pouch marked with the Heidmarch family seal, and departs just as a scowling elderly woman opens the door. “Right. You come to explain why your gang beat up poor Mr. Chert?”

The pouch was meant to contain faction missions, though in story, your not supposed to have time to read them yet, because you need to answer the scowling old woman's qustions. If you want them, I will send them out, otherwise...carry on!

In the cold air, Luisila huddles a bit closer to Omrax and with a silent prayer to the Savored Sting, confers +1 Guidance on him.

In a low voice to the Master of Magic. “Hey Ernest, in twenty words or less, what the Threv is a Trousseau?”

Luisila has played newly-arrived visitor earlier and purchased a souvenir from one of the tourist traps lining the Dockway. It’s a rubber spider in the shape of a Shyriezyx – foul vermin that lurk in ancient Thassilonian ruins like Magnimar’s Irrespan.

Luisila addresses the landlady. “I think you’ll find the average Pathfinder is actually pretty harmless. In fact they are frightened by the silliest things. Here, let me demonstrate …”

Luisila turns to Maaarv and throws him the rubber spider. “Hey, new boy! Catch!”

Aid Another Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19

"I know I've been trying to hit the gym more often, but I don't think I look thuggish..." Ernest misleadingly thinks, having balanced any calorie burning with an increased food intake.

Ernest, in his new headband, defines the term for Luisila. "In old Eastern Cheliax dialect, it was the term for either a dowry or a wedding dress." Ernest addendum an another bit, going over his word count while she tosses a fake spider to the alchemist. "Also, a Dryad is a tree woman whom Mother says turns men they seduce into trees forever, so keep an eye out for any strange trees; it might be a sign."

-Posted with Wayfinder

Maaarv stands huddled with the rest of the group. So, these are the folks Linnea keeps going on about.

As the old lady addresses/accuses the Pathfinders, Maaarv hear's something off to his side. Suddenly, he's being attacked by one of the most foul creatures he had ever seen.

"Eeeyaaagh!"

Maaarv quickly puts on his smoked goggles - he keeps them up on his forehead for just an occasion. He quickly calms down with the protection of the goggles and is able notice that the spider is a rubber toy - tossed at him by the blonde.

"Yeah, good one." Who told her!?! Eadie.

Once Maaarv regains his composure, he moves his goggles back up to his forehead and addresses the landlady. "Yes, while the Society may employ it's share of cruel pranksters," gives a glance at Luisila, "we generally work towards the greater good."

Varg just stands back of the room allowing the others to talk their way out of this one.

They certainly do not want my thoughts on savagery or thuggery.

Zynep, while present, stays in the back with her scarf covering her nose a mouth. Every once in awhile, she gives a little sniffle. Her eyes cry out fatigue.

I think that was one silver shield well spent!

Luisila picks up the rubber spider, grins at Maaarv and goes over to the Sensitive New Age Barbarian.

“Varg, Roland beat me fair-and-sq… TOTALLY CHEATED to win a game we played this morning. As a cleric of the Goddess of Revenge, it is therefore my solemn duty to plant THIS rubber spider in his bed. Would you mind doing it for me?”

“I’d do it myself, but VC Heidmarch has banned me from the men’s barracks after that incident with the gnome, the gaffer tape and the chicken-suit went awry.”

Luisila is deliberately clowning to try and convince the old woman that Pathfinders can be decent people.

She goes over and puts an arm around Zynep and makes a sympathetic face. She gives her sister a cursory look-over but knows the Varisian priestess is very capable of looking after herself.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, Zynep.”

Take (10) Heal: 10 + 6 = 16

“Sorry, ma’am, but is Mr Chert injured? Maybe my sister or I might be able to help him.”

"I am not sure Roland is bright enough to cheat you at anything Lady Luisila."

Omrax bows politely to the scowling old woman.

"As Pathfinders, we are dedicated to learning, not common thuggery. We will get to the bottom of these crimes, Madam. Is not that correct Lady Luisila?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24 plus 2 from assistance.

Luisila gives a half-curtsey in acknowledgement of the knight’s gallantry.

"We will get to the bottom of these crimes, Madam. Is not that correct Lady Luisila?"

“Indeed it is, Ser.”

To the landlady. “Madam, it seems your tenant’s plight has elicited a solemn oath from one of the Inheritor’s Own Swords of Light.”

“Now the decision on whether we are to proceed appears to rest solely with you.”

Maaarv smiles a bit at Omrax's calm, diplomatic demeanor. There's a paladin if I ever saw one.

From down the avenue, a horse-drawn cart approaches the group. A Maaarv recognizes the GPS (Golarian Parcel Service) logo on the side of the cart, he breaks from the group.

The driver jumps down from the cart and walks towards Maaarv with a notepad in hand. "Mr. Bergavsten? Yes, the Society told us we'd find you here in Magnimar. Just sign here please."

Maaarv signs the paper, and the driver removes a crate from the wagon.

"It's about time, I've been waiting on this stuff." Maaarv tears into the crate, "Oh, don't mind me. I've just been waiting on this stuff for a while."

The elderly lady, whose name the guard told you is Mrs. Abigail Soap, stares at the group with an unfriendly look, occasionally raising a perturbed eyebrow at the party's antic. That is, until Omrax begins to speak to her. The woman's features soften a bit as the gallant paladin begins to charm her with his chivalrous ways. She finally begins to open up a little. "Well, everybody’s been talking’ about how what’s been stolen a late’s been old statues and books and junk. What kinda folks would take that sort of stuff other than your lot? Besides, I found one a them ‘way-show-ers’ you Pathfinders is always carryin’, smashed on the ground right aside Mr. Chert.”

"I think that will be our first clue. A member of the Society would never willingly leave their Wayfinder behind, not even a damaged one. I fear foul play and possibly a Pathfinder has been harmed in the process as well. Now this has surely taken on a whole new dimension."

Hmm … this sounds like it MIGHT be tit-for-tat revenge against the Society for those antics we pulled in Riddleport against the Consortium.

Luisila smiles at the old woman and says calmly. “Goodwife Soap, are you familiar with the activities of the Aspis Consortium? There are collectors that would pay handsomely for some of the items you mentioned."

"The Aspis would certainly have no compunction about beating up your tenant and stealing his property to make a quick (gold) sail, while framing one of their rivals for the crime.”

“Do you know about any Aspis activity in the district? Oh, and can you describe the statues and books that were taken?”

Ernest's face turns to panic and he begins to squirm around a little at the woman's first comment (which only scales as more ladies talk about stolen books.) "Oh, no; she knew I took that book from Isger; she must be telepathic or something! Aah! Demons have telepathy! More demon women! Why am I so trustiiiing?"

Luisila walks over to Varg and pulls a torn, travel-stained letter bearing the seal of the government of Nirmathas out of one of the many pockets of her explorer’s garb.

“Hey Cleaver, check this letter out. Can you believe it’s for real?”

“So, what do you make of that, Cleaver? Me a Dame! Isn’t that too ridiculous for words! What would the girls at the Pleasure Salon make of that! Still, there is the small matter of raising the necessary funds first – but a girl can dream, right?”

Omrax gets down on one knee and attempts to hold the old woman's hand to comfort her and persuade her further (take 10 on another diplo roll if needed).

"Madam, it is of utmost importance that we talk to Mr. Chert. We are here to help, as my colleague mentioned, many of us are healers. Mr. Chert may help us by describing his attackers and providing another clue. You have my word that we will see his assailants brought to justice and end these crimes. It is in both of our best interests."

• I will learn the weight of my sword. Without my heart
to guide it, it is worthless—my strength is not in my
sword, but in my heart. If I lose my sword, I have lost a
tool. If I betray my heart, I have died.

• I will be temperate in my actions and moderate in my
behavior. I will strive to emulate Iomedae's perfection.

Cleaver reads through the letter, and then he throws his head back in laughter.

Yes, Mi' Dame. Unbelievable! I must visit you when your pretty little arse sits atop yer throne!

The elderly widow stands, staring at the silent group. Don't talk much do they? Must be a sign of being guilty...

As Omrax kneels, the lady's eyes go wide. By the God's, this young man is going to propose to me! Aren't I a little old for him. Maybe he has mother issues...Let's see what he has to say, though I daresay, I don't even know him!

As Omrax speaks, the lady relaxes a little. That was close, I was afraid I was going to have to break this young man's heart. You still got it Abagail! Mrs. Soap says. Of course, he is just upstairs. she begins to head in that direction. Here take this wayfinder thing, it's of no use to me. People will start thinking I'm a Pathfinder! She shows the party into a small set of quarters and leads you back to a small bedroom.

Elias Chert is a broad shouldered, robust man in his late 50s. At present, his only obvious injury seems to be bruising and a small, bandaged cut on his arm. Despite the minor nature of his wounds, Chert seems gravely ill, sweating profusely and muttering to himself.

Ernest, still in a panic despite being put into a position of trust, offers to look over the Wayfinder.

"I, uh, know more about, uhh, Wayfinders than I do about physiology. You c-can use my healing wand, though."

Taking 10 over the Wayfinder, preferably Knowledges, but Perception is okay, too.

As the party is allowed into the home, Maaarv gives a quiet nod to Lady Soap.

As they surround the injured man, Maaarv is preoccupied with the small bandaged wound. He politely shoulders up close to Mr. Chert. He carefully moves the bandage away to try to determine the nature of the wound.

Heal: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15

While Maaarv examines the man, Chert is rambling, constantly repeating “Antaios … Antaios … No … Antaios …”

"Hmm, this wound, though small, has the markings of poison use. The poison has weakened his natural resilience," Maaarv carefully lifts one of the sick man's eyelids, "and caused a bit of disorientation - which might've led to madness had the poison been stronger."

Maaarv holds the back of his hand to Chert's forehead, "The poison seems to have done it's worst. He should recover fully with plenty of rest."

Maaarv turns to the landlady, "Madame Soap, do you know this 'Antaios' of which Mr. Chert speaks?"

Mrs. Soap shakes her head. No, never heard of 'im

After Maaarv tells the group that Chert's prognosis is good, Mrs Soap fishes around in her apron. Perhaps you folks would like to have a look around the shop downstairs. She finally manages to pull a key out of her apron and hands it to Omrax, while laying a hand lightly on his arm. Don't despair young man, you'll find the right one eventually. She says quietly, while looking askance at Luisila and Zynep. Savored Sting my fanny! More like diseased sting! What this nice young man is doing running with the like of those two, I'll never understand. Pathfinders, go figure. If I was thirty years younger....

After handing Omrax the key, Soap goes back to her ministrations of Chert.

Snouts 'niffs about more lazily than usual, growing ever tired as it gets later and later. Ernest adds to the conversation. "If nobody else wants to, uh, I'll use my wand on him to heal up his wounds, 'cause that seems kinda right to do." If nobody else does, the man gets Infernally Healed.

Omrax takes the key from the lady.

"Thank you madam, you have taken the right action. We will find the criminals."

LOL- Loved the comments about the Savored Stingers!

Omrax will move down to the shop and carefully unlock the door, holding the door open and nodding to his more skilled companions to enter to look for evidence.

Luisila casts Detect Poison on Elias Chert in an attempt to help Maaarv.

Do I know what type of poison was used?

Wisdom Check to know the Poison + Guidance: 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 2 + 1 = 13

She then *winks* and waves to Goodie Soap on the way to search the room and adds a Varisian salutation to the old woman that she has heard in the city. Maybe it was Zynep speaking to Roland ..?

She thinks it sounds kewl, even though she has no idea what is means.

“Hasta la vista … baby.”

Take (10) Perception + Guidance: 10 + 15 + 1 = 26

Zynep, who has be quiet during most of the conversation, slowly makes her way out. She looks around the shop, mentally marking items of worth, then departs.

"Do you know who this missing agent is? Or should we head back to Heidmarch Manor to see who hasn't reported in awhile?"

"The agent listed is Lydia Hob, see this inscription?" He points out an engraving that reads 'Lydia Hob & A.V.' and offers to pass the Wayfinder around for clarity. "I'm, uh, not sure exactly how I know this is a missing agent, though I feel it's related to one of those things us Pathfinders once got before all this demon hubbub."

Ernest would be correct in presuming that Agent Hob is related to things Pathfinders used to do.

Varg fingers the Wayfinder and pulls his newly purchased one from his belt to compare.

Hmmm...similar to my new one. Can't say as I know what this one does though.

He places his back upon his belt and passes the new one along.

Maybe I should get my name engraved on mine?

Luisila is unable to determine the type of poison used.

Omrax opens the door to the florist's shop and lets his party enter. Inside the front door is an overturned planter the size of a washtub. Soil mixed with bits of broken pottery is spilled across the hardwood floor. To the north, an ornately decorated fifteen-foot-wide archway allows passage to the shop’s display floor. A sales counter fills the eastern side of the room, and behind it stand several bookshelves filled with horticultural tomes. A stoppered flask lies in plain sight in the middle of the floor.

Looking further in to the north of the shop, Lusila notices that this room contains hundreds of colorful and exotic plants, positioned beneath several salt-clouded skylights. The most remarkable specimen, an intricately twisting four-foot tree bedecked with lavender-colored leaves, stands in an alcove on the room’s south side. A brass plate reveals it to be an amaranthine juniper. At the rear of the display floor on the southern wall is an open doorway with a twisting woody vine curled around the frame, fixed in place with loops of wire. Above this vine is a sign reading “Employees Only.”

"I, uh, don't think we can, uh go in there." Ernest states, carrying his sleepy piggy. "It's only for employees..."

What is the light level around here?

Dim light

I am ready to proceed. Just say the word.

Varg looks to Omrax, then the ladies and stands at the ready with his Axe held before him.

Maaarv, feeling a little skittish in the dim light, keeps his distance from the plants. From his backpack, he removes his alchemist's kit and sets it on the sales counter. Maaarv then opens up his formulae book. He sets about mixing up some extracts, while muttering, "Can't believe I didn't prepare anything ahead of time...c'mon Maaarv..."

When he's finished, he places the three vials with his completed extracts in his bandolier, along with his mutagen, 2 flasks of alchemist's fire, an acid flask and his vial of antitoxin.

After stowing his equipment, he looks sheepishly at the group. "Uh, sorry guys. I figured this was as good a place as any..." his voice trails off as he can't come up with anything to say.

You need me to light things up with my new toy?

He holds up the Wayfinder attached to his belt.

“Cleaver, you silver-tongued devil! I bet you say that to all the dames.”

Luisila activates her Wayfinder and clips it to her belt.

To her sister “Zynep, do you think I’m clueless?”

♪♫ It’s crazy but I’m frightened by the look of that vine right there – oh yeah … ooh, I’m looking for clues … ♪♫

“Ernest, the vine over the door looks to be some sort of trap.”

“Do you want to take a look first, or just have Maaarv lob a bomb and hit whatever moves? Zynep, what do you think?”

If the party agrees on a pre-emptive strike, Luisila will first cast Bless and then place Bit of Luck on Cleaver. She positions herself behind Omrax and Varg, awaiting the expected onslaught.

Zynep gently caresses Ernest's shoulders while cooing, "Congratulations, you are hired."

She then turns to Luisila after her sister's request.

"If the trap is in the tree, it may have been placed by the owners. Stay your spells while I take a look."

Zynep will try to find the trap Luisila is pointing too.

Perception + Guidance: 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 5 + 1 = 12

If she finds it, Zynep will try to disarm the trap.

Disable Device + Guidance: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 6 + 1 = 12

With the aid of Luisila's directions, Zynep is able to discern the trap, but is not able to disable it, nor, thankfully, accidentally trigger it.

Omrax remains ready with sword and shield along side Varg.

"Let us try not to damage the place too much if this is just a trap set by the shopkeepers. What about the other things in here? Vials, stoppers? Anything look out of place Lady Luisila? Maybe left behind by the attacker?"

Maaarv follows behind Zynep. "Ah, ingenious - hidden among the shrubbery!"

After Zynep is unable to disarm the trap, Maaarv cracks his knuckles. "Hey, uh...I could give it a try." He takes a look at the device.

Disable Device: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

Luisila looks furtively over Varg and Omrax’s shoulders at what Maaarv is doing. On seeing him in action, she shakes her head, draws her whip, transfers it to her left hand and casually tosses the lash over her shoulder.

She then takes a number of short rapid steps over to Maaarv, her booted heels making a click-clack click-clack click-clack cadence on the shop's hard floor.

She stops in front of the alchemist, looks him straight in the eye, and then pinches his left earlobe between her right thumb and forefinger *quite firmly* before half-marching/half-dragging him back to where Varg and Omrax are standing, ignoring any protests he might be making.

click-clack click-clack click-clack click-clack

“Omrax … Cleaver … would you mind keeping an eye on our new friend? I wouldn’t want him to get hurt.”

She releases her grip on Maaarv’s ear and turns to him with her palm held up in front of her and says, “New boy … stay!”

GM Tektite: Come on! What about a roleplay bonus to make sure the trap doesn’t go off ... what do you say?

I don't think we need it; We've got multiple sets of Masterwork Tools floating around, and if my calculations are correct, Maarv's math doesn't include the MW +2.

Ernest both visibly and audibly becomes a little weaker at his new hiring. At the second attempt at trap disabling, Ernest chimes in and sets his pig on the ground while losing his weakness while he focuses on his craft. "I, uh, don't think that worked. Give me a few minutes." He moves his way to the vine that holds the trap and continues with a statement that is hard-pressed to never be taken out of context, given current company. "See, when it comes to traps in general, first on should take their time and see if that works."

T10 DD: 10 + 6 = 16Math not including guidance, if it's utilized.

"If that doesn't work, then you try to get adventurous and experiment around with new ideas."

Disable Device: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12 Math not including guidance.

"Then, when that fails, you just keep trying until it either blows up in your face, you pass out from trying too much, or you succeed."

DD: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23 I REALLY can't wait until I get that Pathfinder Agent level; this "not a class skill" thing is pretty bad.

Varg simply shakes his head at the multiple failed attempts to disble the trap. He then laughs when Luisila struts to retrieve Maaarv.

No worries, Mi'Lady. Omrax and I will keep an eye on our bomb-tossing friend.