Granta's Long Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master Granta

"My pleasure Kembe," Norril says as he clasps Kembe on a muscular shoulder. Arrogant wizards and their exclusive spells. He takes the wand and deftly releases it's magic on him. On the first try too! Yes!

Ready for action, he then begins to extol the virtues of bravery, courage, and mettle to his companions.

________

@Norril: You're expending one round of performance before combat?

Maps

Round 1
Effects inspire courage +1
Terrain none

• Sejiri -
  
• Zevryn -
  
• Red -
  
• Yellow -
  
• Blue -
  
• Kembe - 3 strength damage, mage armor
  
• Forvenniel -
  
• Norril - 1 damage

As soon as Kembe crosses the threshold, three fiery red beetles suddenly pop into existence and leap at the monk.

Sejiri and Zevryn are up. Are you waiting for Kembe to lure them out, though?

Inspiring before combat, I have lingering performance. My plan is to be able to still be able to take a full round of actions if I need to help do something while still giving everyone a buff.

"I...I just did that." Zevryn says as Norril takes the wand and uses it on Kembe. "Alright, well, I guess I'll send Bevole in now to set of-"

He sighs and covers his face with his palm as Kembe crosses the threshold and summons the fiery beetles.

"Alright, I guess I'll just wait here then." He shrugs and looks toward the beetles, then points a finger at the one to Kembe's right and fires a magic missile.

No longer needed, Bevole gathers himself up magically floats back to Zev, planting himself on the man's forearm , the tattoo shows him curled up to sleep out the fight.

Magic Missil vs Yellow: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

"Hopefully we don't end up breaking anything," Sejiri notes as he knocks off a bullet at the beetle Zev attacked. He does not end up aiming very well. "Got to be on guard, though. The last bugs we fought were a lot more troublesome than one would expect."

@Zevryn: The beetles do have SR. I rolled the first check for you though to speed things up.

Maps

Round 1-2
Effects inspire courage +1
Terrain none

• Kembe - 3 strength damage, mage armor
  
• Forvenniel -
  
• Norril - 1 damage
  
• -----Round 2-----
  
• Sejiri -
  
• Zevryn -
  
• Red -
  
• Blue -

Sejiri's sling bullet misses its mark, hitting one of the statues instead--and instantly realizing the paladin's fears, as his shot hits the delicate hands, breaking several fingers. Thankfully, Zevryn's aim is even better, and actually banishes one of the creatures.

The remaining beetles try to make a meal of Kembe, but the monk easily dodges their pincers.

Everybody is up.

Kembe blinks a bit as the creatures pop into existance Gah more bugs! He snaps to as the jaws snap around him "Back out a bit, here they come."

He does a series of kicks at the blue mottled beetle as he steps back out of the doorway.

"Beetles! I knew it... but I've never seen any so large" cries out the elf.

She again conjures a ball of concentrated moonlight and flings it at the closest beetle.

Daze, Fort DC13 or dazzled

"Keep 'em coming Kembe, we've got this. Careful with those bullets though!" Zev says as he fires a second missile.

CL Check and Magic Missile Vs Red: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 111d4 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

"GAH! Don't miss! That did not sound good!" Norril exclaims, cringing at the sound of something breaking within. He then steps next to the house, draws his crossbow, and loads it. Probably should have done this to begin with...

Scowling slightly at his missed shot, the halfling repeats his process, hoping the bugs will at some point exit the house.

Kembe's first kick takes out the second beetle, but Forvenniel's spell fails to blind the third. Norril leans against the house, belatedly loading his crossbow, as Sejiri banishes the final beetle with a sling bullet.

Unfortunately, one of the statues has been damaged, and there is a definite stink of brimstone in the upholstery.

Frank rushes in, picking up the broken pieces of marble. "You said you were going to lure them out before fighting!"

I'm thinking 10 gp each to pay for mending and prestidigitation.

"It's ok, it's ok, it's ok, I can handle the smell!" He says as he utilizes his magic to ease the stink of brimstone out of the house. Oh man, this is not good! What if it was priceless? Norril stands tensely, going a little white, as Frank inspects the full extent of the damages.

"Frank, we did our best! We can help get it fixed, but nobody needs to know that we had a little accident, eh?" He says as he puts his arm around Frank's shoulders. "A quick trip to a wizard and it's all fixed!" Or at least not have our names recorded anywhere. Hopefully nobody in admissions knows we came here!
________

Once the deeds are done Kembe places his hand on Sejiri's shoulder "Mistakes were made but worry not brother. Accidents happen, but next time wait until they clear the room!" He says with a laugh as he ruffles his hair.

Kembe steps inside to begin the search, offering up whatever costs for repair are required. "Lets hope this was all worth the trouble and expense!"

"We can pay to have it fixed, shouldn't be a problem," Sejiri agrees, a little annoyed but doing his best to shake it off. "Now then, Fimbrik might be a bit deaf, though he'd have to be very much so to not hear that. Either way, let's see if he's still in."

"Well, at least everything is fixable." Zev says with a shrug toward Frank. "Honestly though, what kind of professor puts a trap right in his front door? What if a student needed help and was injured fighting off these beetles? Really, we've done you a favor."

Bluff: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26

When he's done helping calm the secretary Zev steps into the house and waits to see if more beetles are summoned, before continuing.

Norril quickly calms the custodian, but Frank insists that an Arcanamirium professor repair the damages. Unfortunately, Fimbrik seems to have disappeared since you last visited his home.

While Frank does let you search the house, he insists that everyone stay together, and follows you carefully. Your search turns up little of use--in truth, only one thing. Kembe finds a neatly penned letter on the meeting room table, and underneath it in the same handwriting is the name "Doulgonlir Caskmail".

Note added to maps.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23 Kembe wanders the room, carefully searching it over for clues. He pauses at the couch and lifts a pillow, flipping it over "For such a clean place it sure seems to have not been lived in for quite some time. This pillow is very faded on one side, yet seems new on the other." He pauses and points to a note on the table "Well now, maybe this will explain what's going on here with that sneaky Gnome..."

He heads over and waits for Frank to usher the group along before peaking at the note and smiling.

"Very well Frank, we will leave you the money and have you arrange it," he states. I can probably save enough face by having Frank handle it all from here. If they never see me, I should be in the clear! Adhering to Frank's rules, he stays with his friends the whole time.

Once the search is over and Frank is on his way, he addresses the party. "Anyone find anything? I found nothing!" he says a little forlornly.

________

Forvenniel tries one of the side rooms, having a good nose around the desk and looking down the back of a couch.

perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

Zevryn helps the rest search, eventually he throws his hands up in defeat.

"No one has lived here in years! The pillows are faded from the sun, who leaves pillows in one spot that long? There aren't any traces of dirt anywhere in this house, and there isn't a single morsel of food!" As if to punctuate the point, Bevole, who had been accompanying Zev, noses under the couch in search of crumbs, and comes up empty handed.

"Hey...hey Kembe...what's that!?" The half-elf says, trying desperately to peak over the other mans shoulder.

"Wiffle? What the hell is a wiffle?" He scrunches his nose, more lost than before they made it in. With a huff he chucks his ten gold toward Frank and nods his head.

"Thank old Yargos for us, yeah?"

Frank gladly takes your gold. "Yes. Yes, it's best if I take care of things from here. You seem like okay folk, so no offense, but the sooner I get you out of the professor's house, the more likely I am to keep my job."

The custodian lets you read through the note a couple more times, then insists that you leave it behind and let him lock up the house again.

Where to next?

”The path and chamber are complete, hidden behind the nameplate of the requested aspirant and guarded by the word you requested. Fimbrik will add more.”

Zev says, remembering the line from the coin they found.

"We have the requested aspirant, Caskmail, but where do you bury someone that never lived?"

K. Local?: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

"Honestly, I'm clueless here."

"Does anyone know if a real aspirant sought out the jade idol of ten thousand faces?" shrugs Forvenniel.

"It would seem that a trip to the shrine of the failed is in order."

"Well, if that doesn't beat all! He should count himself lucky, the stops we went to not to break in." The halfling shakes his head. "Must be a relatively powerful mage to work all these illusions, maybe even without upkeep. Doubt we'll be meeting him, though. I'll follow your judgement, Forvenniel, maybe we can find some trace of 'Doulgonlir Caskmail' there."

Once their recon complete, Kembe pulls a small leather bag from his belt pouch, peering inside and frowning a bit, he pulls out 3 small silver pieces and tosses the remaining bag to Frank "Our apologies for the damage and thanks for the assistance."

He pockets the last of his wealth and turns to the others "Sounds like a trip to this wall is in order then? We've got quite the little mystery here that seems to be clearing up a bit."

"As good a lead as any, let's see what other secrets we can find!" Norril begins walking away from the house, eager to put some distance between himself and it. We've got to work on our more discrete plans and maneuvers.

"Well we've already been to the wall, this Shrine of the Failed though, we haven't seen yet. If Forvi thinks it's a good idea, let's check it out."

"Oh, ya. Sorry, I was mixing up the Shrine as a 'wall' as well. Lets go."

The Shrine of the Failed is close by, in the neighboring Ascendant Court, and sunshine has finally replaced the rain clouds. You find the Shrine completely and utterly empty, but after a moment of reflection realize that everyone must be across the way watching Sir Reinhart of Kenabres attempt the Test of the Starstone. Three monumental chambers stretch eighty feet from end to end, with a ceiling suspended thirty feet from the floor by great pillars. Seven arched passages lead to humble rooms, each of which contains a polished stone altar dedicated to one of the failed aspirants who attempted the Test of the Starstone.

Each of these chambers contains a small stone altar to one of the failed aspirants. The altars stand on a raised dais and bear a small brass nameplate identifying the aspirant and the would-be-god’s areas of interest. And all of the false Pathfinders from the Wall of Names have an altar here, with Doulgonlir’s being the second on your left.

"I wonder how they know the interests of the failed. Is there a registry beforehand?" Sejiri ponders as he looks around from just outside. Now trusting the eyes of the others more than his, he waits for their analyses before going further into the shrine.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 5

Kembe looks at Sejiri with a stern look at his question "I would think someone as resolute and established as those attempting the Test would have had their interests well known by then. Why else would someone try to become a living God?"

As he speaks he looks around the small room for any signs of a clue from this Doulgonlir... Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

"From the few I have seen attempt the test, they tend to give some sort of a speech beforehand. It is typically more entertaining to watch than their actual attempt... And makes for a fun drinking game to boot!"

Norril does his best to find anything of interest in the Shrine. "There are some interesting people here. I'm not certain that I agree with immortalizing everyone who attempts the test... seems like a waste of money unless they were someone of note."

________

Forvenniel spends some time in the shrine to Doulgonlir, looking around for what may be out of place.
perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

"Wiffle!" Zev says just barely above a whisper as they near Caskmail's shrine.

"Wiffle?" He whispers into every corner.

"Wi-ffle? Wiff-le?" He says it so often he starts to question if he's pronouncing it correctly. He looks with the rest for anywhere that might register him saying the password.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22

Kembe's fingers find the edge of a doorway in the western wall, though he is unable to see the cracks no matter how hard he looks. Nor is he able to figure out how the door opens.

And nobody else has any luck, though Zevryn's wiffle song generates a few smirks.

Time to recap what you know.

"Gah! If I'd known I'd be crammed in a tomb on some random assignment while waiting for my wayfinder to arrive I would ha-" Zev's eyes widen as he smacks himself on the forehead.

"Wayfinder, pathfinder coin - beeeehiiiind the naaaame plaaaate!" He says mocking the voice in the recorded message.

He looks for Caskmails name plate and sees if he can move or lift it.

Kembe looks up from the wall he's searching over "Behind the nameplate? I must have missed that." Kembe still looks battered and weakened from his fight with the scorpions and pauses in reflection.

After a few moments he focuses on Zevryn "So, any luck? There seems to be a secret wall here but I don't think we're getting it open without using the password."

Forvinniel joins the others looking at the nameplate.

"The moon has never shone on this plate."
perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23

Zevryn easily slides the nameplate several inches, revealing a small blackboard and a thin piece of chalk.

Forvenniel looks at the chalkboard and decides there is only one thing for it.

She writes "Caskmail is a Wiffle" on it.

"I'm surprised nobody has noticed this before!" I wonder what we will find! It is incredible that there are still mysteries to be solved in Abasalom, a city with so many people, let alone what there must still be left to find in the rest of the world!

Kembe watches on, standing at the ready for the wall to do something... anything? Maybe? "Do your thing, I'm ready."

As Forvenniel finishes the "e" with a little flourish, Kembe's secret door slides up into the ceiling, revealing a darkened tunnel snaking into the stone. The Pathfinders cautiously move into tunnel and then through a small cavern, where they first see a dim light in the distance.

The light comes from a little office at the back of the cavern, where several desks are arranged along the northern and eastern edges. Whereas the stonework leading to this chamber is rough, the walls in the alcove are polished. A single gem rests among the neatly filed papers on the desk, emitting a soft luminescence that brightens the small room.

The paperwork on the desk is a priceless collection of Pathfinder Society lore and information describing dozens of unexplored sites. Unfortunately, most are completely undecipherable and will take the Society weeks to decode.

"Wow" says the half elf.

"Two secret troves of documents in one day. Does anyone in the society ever lodge their stuff in the Grand Lodge?"

She starts to peruse the documents, looking for stuff of interest.

"Pretty light."

Norril drags his hand against the walls of the cavern. "This... This cavern was created by a spell, not any force of nature..." he says absentmindedly. Some powerful magic was at work here. A level of magic I hope to achieve one day.

As the group closes with the source of light, he inspects it. "How clever! This gem has been enchanted with a spell to shed continuous loght. It certainly has lived up to it's namesake."

But then, his eyes get the papers in their view. With a burst of energy, he leaps forward and scours them for anything intriguing. "I can't read most of this, but this is quite the find!" he almost shouts, brimming with excitement. "Look here, there is a lost dig site in the Mwangi Expanse? A hidden temple to Pharasma in Ustalav?" he continues to recite what he reads, getting more and more excited.
________

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

"Another office hidden behind a crude tunnel in a weird building? No one is going to believe that happened twice in one adventure, I'm going to have to alter this a bit." He mutters to himself noting the signs of magic along the cave walls that suggest it was created by a mage.

When they move toward the desk, Zev summons his dancing lights to help anyone that wants to go over the papers, but when he sees how complex they are he frowns and starts throwing the gem from one hand to another, marveling at the light coming from it, but unable to determine it's source.

"Looks like we finally cracked the case though, right? Go us!"

"Quite the find. All this, plus what we found in the previous trove, and then there was that temple to Aroden...Our careers are looking to be bright and interesting."

Kembe waits at the ready when the door goes up, and to his relief isn't punched, kicked, stabbed, bitten, or stung as it does so. "Someone conjure up some light and stay behind me."

He slowly makes his way down the tunnel towards the other light, pausing occasionally at the flicker of shadows Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21

After thoroughly searching through the notes he shakes his head in disbelief "Hiding all this away.. why? Lets gather it up and get it back to Dreng. Make sure its stowed well, we wouldn't want it to get rained on."

Maps

Round 1
Effects none
Terrain none

• Zevryn -
  
• Kembe -
  
• Forvenniel -
  
• Norril -
  
• Sejiri -
  
• Purple -
  
• Red -
  
• Yellow -
  
• Blue -

Once all of Eylysia's papers are safely packed away, you hurry back to the altar room, hoping to escape before the attendants return. Several people are indeed waiting for you, but they look more like assassins that priestly types.

Each of the four is shrouded in black robes, and they leap out at you in complete silence. The two closest to Kembe wield longswords and small wooden shields, while the one behind them holds just a morningstar and the other one off to the right appears completely unarmed.

But there is a single ray of moonlight in the black situation: one of them seems to have a cold, and his cough gave away their ambush.

Everybody is up.