Granta's Long Campaign (Core) (Inactive)

Game Master Granta

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Kirrote stands before the statue of Durvin Gest in the courtyard on the west side of the Grand Lodge grounds. The sun setting behind him illuminates the statue in a golden light. Rising majestically behind the statue is the spire of Skyreach, also brightly lit by the setting sun. Durvin Gest, a hero of the realm, his exploits known across the land. Kirrote smiles grimly, his orc fangs exposed, as he considers the hero. "If only it was that easy," he says to himself. "Just be a hero and then your problems go away."

He turns from the statue, in a northerly direction, and looks off into the distance. His family is out there. Many leagues away. A pang of sadness wells up inside him. They are out there, and they probably hate him for what he did. They don't even know if he's still alive. But he had to leave them. That was the only way to keep them safe.

The Pathfinders are his last hope. If he can rise in the ranks of Pathfinders, then he can win the support of the organization. Maybe then he can clear his name. Then maybe he can go back to his family. Maybe then they will accept him back.

Kirrote turns back to looks at the statue. A line of shadow slowly rises up the side of the Skyreach behind it as the sun continues to set. Just as the last tip of the tower fades into darkness he shakes his head with the weight of all of the "maybe"s pressing down on him. He clenches his fists and let's loose a low growl. "It has to work!" he says quietly and turns to find his temporary quarters.

You have been stationed at the Grand Lodge in Absalom, awaiting assignment for a mission of utmost importance. Things finally seemed in motion when Venture-Captain drandle Dreng sent out a summons for available agents. Specialized in the history of Absalom, Dreng is known for putting off-duty agents to work on sundry tasks when he finds them resting within the city limits.

As you approach the meeting place, a hooded, hunched beggar bumps into Althera and holds out his palm, "Have you any coin to spare, fine folk?"

A moment later, the figure doffs his hood and you realize this senile face must be Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng, "Sorry about that. I always like to play a little joke on agents when I stumble across them during my jaunts into town. Now, why did I summon you fine folk here . . .?"

Dreng scratches himself in several places before continuing, "Ah, yes, the Wounded Wisp! I'm undercover now and can't stray far from here, so I need someone to retrieve a bottle of wine for me from that fine, fine establishment. It's one of Absalom's most storied taverns, you know, and one that holds a special place in the hearts and lore of the Pathfinder Society.

"The bartender is a woman named Heryn Gale, a fine, fine lady who inherited the Wisp after her father passed away from--oh, bah, I'm going to break my cover giving you a history lesson! If you could just go to the Wisp and tell Heryn you're there to pick up my bottle of wine, it would be most appreciated. I'll be around here for several hours at least, but try to hurry."

You may make this check untrained.

Knowledge(history): 1d20 ⇒ 3 Getting my bad rolls out of the way early...

At first Kirrote is put off by the approaching beggar. "Leave us alone, old man." he starts to say then the beggar pulls back his hood. Kirrote realizes that he was on the receiving end of a jest. He growls a little.

He listens to Dreng go on about fetching some wine. Fetching wine! A task for Pathfinders! Before his moods shifts entirely dark Kirrote reminds himself what he is doing this for. If this is what it will take to gain standing in the Society. Well, everyone has to start somewhere.

Having never heard of the Wounded Wisp Kirrote asks Dreng, "So where is this place? I've never heard of it."

Among the assembled group is a middle-aged human, despite his age he seems fit, maybe even nimble. He has a stern, somewhat hard looking face with piercing blue eyes, as if perhaps somehow distantly related to Taldan nobility. He has a reseeding hairline, and his hair and mustache are grey and well kept. Even still he is attractive in a regal sort of way. He wears functional but well made clothing, all very neat and tidy, and wears a silver key of Adabar around his neck.

Well thing, off to retrieve the bottle then. Kane says with a nonchalant cadence.

K: History: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

"I haven't been in Absolom long enough--and I've been spending way too much time balancing ledgers--to know much about it," Pavo says to Kirrote, "But I'm fairly sure I can find it." He finishes optimistically and cheerfully.

"Any mission is better than the accounting room!"

Kane looks somewhat surprised at Pavo, I find hours spent in the accounting room, to be some of the most relaxing and fulfilling. I mean little else satisfies like a well balanced ledger! He says the last part with a bit of genuine excitement.

But I know it's not for everyone. He concedes.

"It's more fun obta--earning coin than counting it," Pavo says with a grin, "Oh, and spending it!"

The roguish fellow pulls the brim of his hat down and looks askance at the wall while addressing Kane. "Please don't tell Karela."

A tall bookish elf in solid travelling clothes appears to be among those present at this location for a purpose. Zyrethian stands as much apart from the crowd as possible as his turquoise eyes scan those present over the top of his book, as if searching for something.

As the beggar bumps into one of the others present, the elf's left hand shifts to the ornate Rapier on his hip and he deposits the book in a pocket. His eyes narrow and his expression loses all trace of boredom as he seems prepared for trouble, his body tense and ready for action. Tension that drains as the beggar reveals himself to be Dreng. The elf mutters to himself embarrased,"Báichī," before stepping close enough to hear what Dreng has to say.

He listens to Dreng, becoming a bit put off by the mundanity of the task he was summoned for.

I can't believe we were summoned here for something like this, I thought the hazing was done when we completed our Confirmation

As Dreng wraps up his rambling explanation, Zyrethian nods, "As you wish, Venture-Captain." With that he turns, seeing that the others do not appear to know where they are going he speaks up as he begins striding off, "Follow me, I know the way," a hint of irritation in his voice.

As the group travels to the Wounded Wisp, Zyrethian turns to the others, "As it seems we will be working together. It would seem like a good idea to know who we are working with and what we are capable of. I am Zyren and I am an Abjurer. As a student of the school of abjuration, I specialize in harnessing and controlling the very essence of magic. While I have no intention of ignoring more martial studies, I have been a bit lax in that aspect of my education of late."

Having made his very abrupt introduction he pulls out a book and prepares to take notes about his companions while they continue on their way.

"I'm--Oh, you're writing this down?" Pavo asks rhetorically, tugging at the collar of his tunic, "Right."

He removes his feathered hat with a flourish. "As I said before we left the headquarters, you can call me Pavo. I'm an expert at getting into trouble and middling skilled at getting out of trouble." He grins, expecting a laugh.

"Right, well, I lie, cheat, and steal, parlay, and charm damsels. If necessary, I can throw a knife and stab with a sword. I'm an amateur linguist, dabbler in magic, and did I mention charming to the ladies? Make sure you write that down. My tombstone should read: Here lies Pavo. Loved by the fair half of the word." He gestures expansively with his hand as he dictates his epitaph.

"You know the way. I will follow you." Kirrote falls in behind Zyrethian as the group heads through the streets.

After listening to Pavo, Kirrote remains silent. He doesn't know if he can trust these people. It will take some time before he can. Fortunately, it's easy for people to just assume that all half-orcs are not much more than brutish beasts so they don't expect much conversation from them.

Dreng watches the Pathfinders walk away, getting to know each other. Well I'll be . . . that's the best darn briefing I've ever given!

Will wait a day for introductions to complete, then take you to the Wisp.

Kane lets out a little chuckle at Pavo's introduction.

Assuming Anastasia is with us

Lady, Gentlemen, my name is Kane Eriksen. I am a merchant and follower of Adabar from Taldor, new to the Pathfinder Society. It's good to make your acquaintance. He nods to everyone as they go.

Noting Kane's glance at Anastasia, he leans towards the Abadaran, cups his hand to his mouth, and says in a perfectly audible stage whisper, "Elvish ladies don't count. It's not wise to steal from the elves, especially their hearts." Just as the pause afterwards makes it seem as though this confession was completely sincere, he gives Anastasia a wink so fast and subtle it's hard to be sure it happened.

Zyren writes shorthand notes, in Azlanti, as the others speak of themselves.

As Pavo expounds on his charms, Zyren starts to grin, seeming to warm to his new companions.

When the groups grows quiet again Zyren speaks up again.

"Pavo, what languages do you speak? I myself speak Elven, Sylvan, of course Taldane, Varisian, Draconic from my magical studies, and most recently I have learned the ancient language of the Azlanti."

"And you, Kane, what do you do? Aside from keep ledgers, that is. What talents can you bring to bear on a mission?"

Zyren turns to the Half-orc, "What should we call you, Half-Orc? I imagine, Hey Half-Orc, would be unappreciated. I presume you are good in a fight from the way you carry that axe. I'm not trying to get your life story here, I'm just trying to understand what we can count on each other for in a fight."

Turning to Anastasia, "And you what can we call you? What can we count on you for to help in completing a mission?"

"Clearly, you are a master linguist," Pavo smiles, "I read and fluently speak Taldane, Celestial, and love. I can muddle out others." He waffles his hand back and forth as he confesses to the last bit.

"I've also been known to charm quite a few knots and a lock or two, but that's more a language of the hand than the tongue." He taps his bearded chin as he contemplates a moment. "Now that would be a feat to record."

Kane speaks up.

Я свободно говорю языком Dwarves

Other than that, Adabar has blessed me with the ability to grant healing and maybe provide an encouraging word from time to time.

Kane seems to underplay his abilities.

Anastasia is an elven woman, with arms and legs too tall and thin even for her slender frame. She is dressed plainly, and her dark hair is tied up in a loose bun, with an inkpen stuck in middle to hold it together. She completely misses Pavo's wink, but on his mention of love and heart she points at the toad sitting on her shoulder.

"Friends say my boyfriend. Kissed, no prince", she says, unhumorously.

On the topic of names and languages, she quickly summarizes her part.

"Anastasia, elven Antasarë Iva. Ana, Nastya. Elven, Taldane, Brevoy, Draconic, Celestial, Sylvan, Orc."

When Zyren turns to her, she lights up. She quickly moves close to him, and starts pointing around the book she has in her hand.

"Spells! Transmute, illusion, conjure, not mind. You too? On me six spells. Here, look! I try this last time, not work. Good? Think this, better? And this, not now, have, wait, this! And this!"

She pulls out two scrolls and somehow manages to open both while still holding the book open.

"On you book? Show?"

The toad points to itself with its limb, and bows.

"Ribbit."

As you walk through the empty streets, one of the few merchants desperate enough to stay open in the rain shouts at Pavo, "A gift for the lady! This book has been passed down from father to son for generations. Its spells are said to ensure success in any business venture."

The man waves his arm to encompass the small, wet cart of once fresh fruits and vegetables. One of the wheels clearly leans off kilter. "As you can see, I'm unable to read its magic. An orphan am I. My parents died tragically when I was but a little boy. An accident, some say. But others say arson. All I remember is finding their charred black bodies, still clasping each others' hands, when I came home for dinner one night. That's a sight no child should ever see!

"But to the point--my father died before I was old enough to learn the family magic, and now it's but a good luck charm and dreams of riches."

Anybody who opens the book may roll the check above.

Snake oil? Despite his skepticism Kane takes the book and gives it a look.

But the writing within looks like gibberish to him and he passes it on to one of the others.

Pavo shakes the rain off of his hat in futility before quickly replacing it to gather yet more water on its brim.

"A book of spells to improve the outcome of business ventures?" the rogue repeats in the form of a question and with a charming smile, "Do let me see."

"A spellbook this is not, but if the poor man can't decode it, it might hold some secret. Karela would probably want me to review it. I swear, I can't even escape accounting books when I'm on assignment," Pavo ponders quickly as he flips through the pages, "Even if that assignment is collecting wine."

More out of pity than true expectation of secret treasure maps, the bard makes two gold coins appear in his hand. "I'll offer you these two blonds for your father's old ledger. They should get you out of the rain and your family something warm to eat."

Kirrote listens to the more talkative members of the group as they exchange social pleasantries. When Zyren turns to him he stares blankly at the elf then a slight smile appears on his thin lips. "I am Kirrote. I'm from the north. River Kingdoms." He continues to step with the group for a few more paces then adds, "I don't have many skills but swinging this is one of them." He pats the haft of the large axe swinging at his side. He slips back into a few more silent steps then adds once more. "Truthbringer." He pats the axe again.

At Anastasia's comment about speaking Orcish, he raises an eyebrow. "Ga'alku kishka, tobkask."

The group stops at the vendor's stand. Kirrote stands to the side, arms crossed, glaring at the vendor.

Anastasia just shrugs at Kirrote's comment, looking a bit puzzled as if there was nothing surprising in knowing the language.

She looks at the book.

"Not magic", she says, disappointed.

Then her eyes sharpen, and she starts following the text around the page with her finger, looking for patterns.

"Encoded..."

Shifting to the elven tongue, Zyren focuses on Antasarë, "On hyvä työskennellä toisenlaisen kanssa. Olen Kyonin, erityisesti Iadara. Sinä?"

Then realizing his rudeness, Zyren returns to using Taldane, "My apologies everyone I was simply excited to encounter a fellow elf. I will attempt to stick to Taldane where possible."

Zyren pulls out a different book than he had before, this is has a solid cover and looks well-loved. He flips through its pages allowing Anastasia to see, "I eschew the schools of Illusion and Enchantment, I have never had much luck in deceiving and frankly I find magically controlling another's mind perverse." Zyren shudders. "I won't tell others what to do butu just not something I can bring myself to do. I do have this one scroll, Endure Elements. When we have time we should sit down and go over what spells we can trade."

If you want a list of my spells, the contents of Zyren's known spells is at the bottom of the profile.

Pavo, you mentioned magic, do you also memorize spells daily, or is yours more spontaneous like a sorcerer?"

Zyren nods approvingly at Kirrote's information, Every team needs someone who can put the hurt on others when needed. I think you would have gotten along with the cleric that my Father worked with, Erol was a devotee of Gorum and quite devastating on the battlefield to hear my father tell it."

As the group is accosted by the street vendor, Zyren puts everything away, and seeing Kirrote holding back Zyren passes close to the half-orc and whispers to him, "Keep an eye out for trouble this could be a distraction." Then Zyren moves forward and attempts to view the book over Pavo's shoulder as he peruses the tome.

Before the merchant...

"Pay it no mind," Pavo says with a smile in response to Zyren's apology, "I will simply assume the two of you are discussing my inspiring charm and devilish good looks whenever I don't understand what you two are saying."

When the wizard asks the bard about his magical skill, he grins, incants a simple phrase and snaps his fingers. "I've picked up a few tricks that I can use when I need them, but I don't use book magic. It takes me too long to learn new tricks from them," he says as the plain hawk pinion in his hat gradually changes to a deep crimson color.

"Syntymäpaikka Kyonin, lapsuus Brevoy" Anastasia quickly answers to Zyren.

When the subject turns to magic, she gets interested.

"Me interests all, but bad with minds. Cannot charm, fear, compulse. Illusion easier. I see this, all see same. Fear, love, all different. I put beautiful arcane pattern in mind, try charm, they fear! Not understand. Manipulate things, also easy. Grease stone, always slippery. Burn wood, always burn. Later, I you show my book. Study together."

Clearly offended, the merchant pulls back his book, "Two gold! Why, this is a one of a kind find. You not only rob my family of its history and legacy, but of the very food my children need to--I dare not say grow strong, for such dreams are beyond us peasants--but just to fall asleep at night with full bellies."

Tears form in the man's eyes as he continues, "I slave everyday in the sun and rain, just for that one kind, kind customer who will buy enough to feed my children that night. But alas, such kindness is rare, and every night I must listen to my children crying themselves to sleep as I tell them stories--lies, really--of how everything will we better one day.

"But no, not today. Today you try to steal the bread out of their mouths with your theft! I couldn't possibly part with this tome of magic for less than 100 of your blondes!"

"I'm sorry. I feel for your plight, I do," Pavo sympathizes with the vendor, handing the book back to the man.

He stares off into a space just over the vendor's shoulder while gesturing vaguely in the air with his forefinger and murmuring. "Ah, yes!" he says suddenly, clapping his hand on the vendor's shoulder, "If I might make a logical argument?" The way the question ends suggests that he's going to make the argument regardless of the answer.

"That book there, that you have confessed to not being able to read and doing you naught but coloring your dreams, is, quite honestly, doing you no good. Has it brought in a single penny, let alone a weight? Has it filled your children's bellies for a single meal, let alone a day? Has it quenched a single parched lip?

"These two measures, ladies fair they be, will not treat you so cold. They can bring you six loaves of bread, two and a half pounds of cheese, half a pound of meat, and quart of fresh milk. Or, if you and your sons have no woman to make the meal, they will at least lead you to twelve princely meals or nearly a score of more modest ones.

"So, you can ask for more measures than I have, and," the orator says sadly, "no matter how much I may sympathize, I will not be able to give you what you ask."

Pavo releases the man's arm and bows deeply, letting the rain spill off of his hat. "I and my ladies bid you farewell, and I hope that your book learns to earn its wages better than it has."

He flashes two gold coins between his fingers once more before making them vanish into thin air. Turning to the others, Pavo apologizes, "I beg pardon, I've made you all stand in the rain and delayed our mission for naught."

Kirrote grunts at Pavo and shrugs off the rain. "It is no matter to me." He uncrosses his arms and puts a hand on the hilt of his greataxe. "Is it time to go?"

Kane listens to Pavo's reasoning and it makes a lot of senses. He tries to get a read on the seller and ascertain how much it might really be worth.

Friend, you know Adabar rewards a shrewd trader, but frowns on a dishonest merchant. Be honest and tell us all you know about this book. He questions the vendor a little more.

When the merchant balks at Pavo's overly generous offer, Zyren sniffs the air and wrinkles his nose disdainfully before walking a little distance away from the merchant. Once he reaches a spot not too far from the group, he uses the better vantage point to watch for trouble while acting as if he were intent on polishing a spot on the handle of his rapier.

Anastasia continues examining the book.

"No, not that. Maybe if? No. It might be, more time" she mumbles while trying to decode the book.

She pays little attention to the conversation, concentrating on her decoding. Only when the man mentions magic, she momentarily pauses and comments: "Not magic", continuing her research right after.

@Kane: You are pretty certain this merchant is completely full of shit and trying to scam you all.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 12

"How rude! You not only steal the food from my family's belly, but you call me stupid and try to manipulate me with your big words, like some barrister."

He turns to Kane, his tears drying, but his cheeks burning red with anger, "And you! Calling ME a liar!

"90 gold, and that's my best offer. It's worth the missing 10 just to get rid of your uppity sort!"

"My apologies," Pavo bows again, "I will note that 'barrister' is a bigger word than any I used."

He waves his hand, beckoning for the others to continue onward.

"I am more and more suspecting that my generosity is misplaced," he says to the others. "That wine will not deliver itself--probably, it is Absolom after all--so let us be away before I give in to the temptation to show him my other face."

"All those fancy words but I think you mean that we should go." Kirrote starts to head in the direction that he thinks they were heading.

As the group departs Kane has some final words for the man, Choose carefully your line of work, long term wealth comes not from a quick swindle, that may ruin you in the end. Instead, toiling honestly will bring wealth in Adabar's timing. Will you allow me to provide you with a small blessing from Adabar in the hopes that you will take my words to heart?

If the man allows Kane casts guidance on him, hoping his next decision will be wise and move him onto a better path, if not Kane will regarding him as a fool who deserves what is surely coming to him.

Speaking loudly, "Trying to sell a fake spellbook, has got to be the dumbest scam I have ever heard of. For the most part, any people who would be interested in purchasing such an item will know a fake the minute they look at it."

Zyren shakes his head as the group heads out.

The toad slaps Anastasia on the cheek with its tiny webbed leg.

"Ribbit!"

Reluctantly, Anastasia leaves the book.

"Yes, too expensive, simple mental exercise", she says, takes a final glance at the book and follows her companions.

The merchant nods at Kane, but quickly turns on Zyrethian, "Scam! How dare you! I'm as honest a merchant as any in Absalom! Get out of here, all of you, before you scare away real customers."

You find the Wounded Wisp in the Foreign Quarter, not far from the Grand Lodge. Built from dark, discolored wood, the exterior is the image of an iconic dive bar. Stained and barred windows obscure any view of the interior, though ruddy yellow light bleeds from a window in the front hall.

Inside, the smell of smoke and spilled ale assails the senses in this wide-open area. Walls of dark-stained wood make up the sides of the Wounded Wisp, while well-used wooden tables are spread throughout the space. A raised area in the back of the establishment houses several additional tables and eating areas for groups seeking more than just a good drink. An austere bar supported by kegs instead of wooden panels commands the northern end of the room. A stained-glass cabinet stands behind the bar, its dark panes cracked in several spots, yet not so opaque as to conceal the several dozen types of hard liquor within.

There is a woman behind the bar, and lots of patrons scattered around the room, many with wayfinders visible. Who do you want to talk to?

"Do you all want to dry off while I go collect Drendle's bottle? Can I get you anything to eat or drink while I'm at the bar?" Pavo asks his companions. He gestures and invokes a simple cantrip while he awaits their response. His clothes begin to dry themselves, beginning with the hawk feather in his hat and slowly working downward.

Zyren mutters a few arcane words and the water wicks off of him as well, "Anyone else want to be dry?"

Zyren grins and looks around the room. "Pavo, a glass of good elven wine would be wonderful, thank you. The rest of us should find a place to sit while we wait for you." Pointing to an empty table near the bar, "How about there?"

After drying off any others who request it and assuming no objections, Zyren leads the way to the table he indicated.

Yes, drying would be good, thank you Zyren. He nods approval to the Abjurer.

Elven wine for me a well Pavo, and thank you. He raises a hand to Pavo to indicate his preference as well.

Taking his seat next to the others Kane survey's the other patron's of the Wounded Wisp to see who else might be out an about on a stormy night.

Kirrote shrugs at the offer to be dried off. "It don't matter any way to me," he says. "And I don't think it needs all of us to go get a bottle of wine. I'll just wait here with you." He pulls out a chair to sit down and realizes that the chair is way to flimsy. Probably designed for an elf or some other slight race. He finds a sturdier chair at a nearby table and takes it to sit in.

Pavo walks to the bar and greets the woman working there with a smile. "Good day. I would like a bottle of elvish wine, if you have it, for my table and the ear of Heryn Gale. Drendle Drang sent us to retrieve a special bottle of wine from her."

He turns to glance at the other Pathfinders near the bar, tipping his hat, while the woman responds.

Anastasia continues her tries to decode the book, this time just from memory. Deep in her thoughts, she takes the chair abandoned by Kirrote, and it supports her slender frame easily. She drips water all over while mumbling the coded words from the books. She finally stops as she notices a pool under herself.

"Dry good, please? On me today not that spell", she asks Zyren.

She follows Pavo with her gaze, wondering aloud: "What this bottle? Just wine? Maybe puzzle, quest, hint?"