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Lore stumbles a bit as she exits Filosten's and grabs the side of the building to steady herself. "Oh, my... I don't think I've been this tipsy in a long time!"
She waits a few moments before traveling on, heading first home to grab her gear, then to HQ to see what they've got on the agenda for her today. The long walk proves to be therapeutic, allowing her time to sober up a bit and she arrives in better condition than she left the tavern in.
Arriving at HQ, she is smiling and clear-headed. She walks up to her faction office, and reports for duty.
"Blessings of Sarenrae on you all. Lore Teklet, ready for my next assignment."
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Where did I put those stockings? I don’t suppose Eadie could have taken them?
Eadie’s room mate, a tall half-elf laughs at the thought. As she hustles past the bathroom, the older woman notices the young warrior sitting in the bath examining a bottle.
She pauses long enough to say, “I told you it’s OK to borrow my shampoo, Eadie.”
The fighter replies, “Oh, I know. It’s just the label says it’s for dry hair, and I’ve all ready wet mine.”
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Solemnly walking into HQ Fleetwood slowly surveys the area, sees Lore and greets her warmly.
Good day my colorful friend, may The Light of Hope enlighten you."
Leaning down Fleetwood whispers to Lore "Don't ever blend Filosten's Alembic, Grimdoc and Lhug-mor together as when those three are combined...dangerous tidings my lady, dangerous indeed..."
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Lore greets Ruprecht with a little hug. "Hey, Rupe. Good to see you again. We missed you at the tavern, but glad to see you here."
When Fleetwood arrives, she chuckles at his comment. "Unfortunately, while I cannot vouch for Lhug's abilities to hold his liquor, I know that Grim's abilities are legendary. Until I left, at least, he was still having fun. Did something happen after I retired for the evening?"
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"Oh, begging pardon, I did not notice everyone else. Greetings all, may your days be filled with free thinking."
Pausing and shaking his head low,
"As for Grimdoc and Lhug-mor, I do not know. This new form of mine has less tolerance for libations...the last thing I remember was Lhug trying to get me to smoke something. After that, nothing."
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A knight, a shade over five and half feet tall, wearing new-looking full plate strolls into the room.
Her armor is black with gold trimmings and highlights, apart from two items. A white cloak embroidered with the longsword and sunburst emblem of the Inheritor and a stained, linen tasset, which may once have been white, hanging down from the front of her belt.
Seemingly at odds with the symbol of Iomedae, the Vault Key emblem of Abadar, with the head of the key modified into a heart shape is embossed into the woman’s armor, over her left breast.
The black knight looks around the room, waves her hands about as muffled exclamations emanate from beneath her helm while she tries to remove it. Eventually she does.
“Ruprecht, how was your Foundation Day?”
Eadie bows solemnly to Lore. “Baroness Barstoolia, Abbess of the Alembic, my sword arm is yours.”
"May your days be filled with free thinking."
She chuckles at Fleetwood. “Have you had much to do with VC Valsin, ‘Wood? He’d love that line.”
She holds out her arms awkwardly. “Full plate doesn’t seem to have been designed with hugging in mind.”
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Ruprecht nods atthe others. "Sorry I missed the carousing. I've been studying my alchemical formulae a bit more lately. I'm getting close to cracking some new discoveries, and I've been pouring a bit more time into it recently. I'm getting to the point that I have to be more serious about my studies if I'm going to progress. So yeah, nothing exciting here."
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Eadie deadpans. “Yeah, me too! I had a very quiet Foundation’s Eve, Ruprecht. I certainly didn’t do any criminal damage in a bar, trash a borrowed dress or leave Grim abandoned and passed out in a corner. No, sir!”
**Whistles Innocently**
“No, I got home early enough to re-organize my Pathfinder Chronicles in chronological AND alphabetical order. I’ve got to get my ducks in a row if I want to take it to the next level!”
“Do you work out in advance what you might discover in your research, Ru? I’m terrible for planning WAAAY too far ahead. The Master of Swords pulls me back into the present pretty quickly though. VC Farabellus can be quite persuasive, ya know?”
Eadie grimaces and begins rubbing the back of her head for some reason.
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"a I plan a little bit. You know, I'm decent at tossing acid, right. But if I meet a baddie who acid doesn't bother, what do I do? That's my problem...so I've been thinking of a way around that. The answer came to me the other day. Fire! The Masters are busy, but they've led me in the direction of a book teaching me to make draughts that let me breathe fire, if you can believe it! Thing is, I don't have it down yet. A few more days and I might be able to crack it, though."
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"Well, I'm good with fire, so until you crack that fire breath thing, you've got me to toss flames around for you, courtesy of Sarenrae, of course. Nothing hotter or more fiery than the sun, after all!" Lore grins as she creates a flame in the palm of her hand and tosses it from hand to hand casually.
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“Kill it with fire!!”
“Fire! Bwa Ha HA!”
“Cool! I mean, that’s hot! I mean …”
Eadie backs slowly away from Ruprecht and Lore, straight into the hustling dwarf.
She jumps. “Grim!! You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that! Oh, hope you didn’t spill any ale.”
She regains her composure quickly. “Wow, I hear you’ve covered some ground since I saw you last, Grim. Hope it’s all going to plan.”
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Catching the door before it closes, he follows the dwarf into the briefing, "Well, they weren't going to start without us, my friend," giving the group a broad smile, "I had to stop at the bathhouse and was...delayed."
Adjusting his mysteriously pressed and immaculate robes, "Not like that," giving a wink, "I had to pick up a new sword. I broke the other one chopping firewood. They don't make them how they used to. my good friend who frequents there had crafted this one and it has a considerably sharper edge. He made me promise to use a hatchet next time, however."
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The Pathfinders spend a few days running various errands for the gathered Venture-Captains and other important Pathfinders. You are able to spend some time getting to know Absolam and its surrounding area. Coming back to your bunks one morning after breaking your fast, you find the others in the group packing their adventuring bags. Wondering what is going on you are quickly told to get your things together.
You are to meet Kreighton Shaine, the master of scrolls. Finally something important!
Aside from some briefings during training, few Pathfinders deal with the Society’s Master of
Scrolls. In the muddy stables, Kreighton’s scholarly robes drag through the muck, and his soft shoes are clearly soaked through, though he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I’ve been working on an extensive study of religious relics, trying to ascertain whether items gain a certain aura of divinity that cannot be detected through normal means. I’ve been collecting these artifacts through a series of well-known dealers in the God’s Market. We’ve never had any trouble before, but recently several of our couriers have been waylaid by a particularly elusive bandit.” Kreighton pauses briefly as his mud-soaked robe snags on a nail and he nearly falls over, but a stable boy catches his arm and steadies him.
“As they were headed through the Ascendant Court,” he continues, “a group of thugs ambushed our couriers. The first time I thought it was a coincidence—a random mugging. After the second time, however, Grandmaster Torch had some harsh words with me. He suspects someone has targeted our couriers specifically. The Drandle boy suggested I have you investigate the disappearances.” There is a long, uncomfortable pause and for a minute it seems the elf has completely forgotten he was discussing something.
Finally, he glances up with a sort of stunned look on his face. “Oh yes, here, this list will help you. The Grandmaster has helpfully provided it as a starting point."
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Adjusting his mysteriously pressed and immaculate robes.
Eadie bows. “Truly the tales and songs fall utterly short of your splendor, O Lhug-mor the Stupendous!”
The Black Knight gives the Black Dragon a hug to show – she’s just kidding.
“Hope there are no holes in your armor, Lhug.”
♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞
After reading the note from that paragon of virtue GM Torch, Eadie says, “So the mission itself is to uncover the identity of the bandits? OK.”
“Master of Scrolls, do you know what items were stolen by the brigands? Were any of them weapons or magic items that could be used against us?”
“Who knew the route the couriers were taking? Did the muggings all happen on the same day of the week or time of the day?”
Eadie looks at the others and *shrugs* “Otherwise, I guess we pick a name off the list and go question them, yeah?”
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"It was more of a limmerick than a tale, my clearly encumbered friend," giving her an exaggerated slap on he shoulder guard after the hug.
"Oh, you are a big strong lad, erhm... lass!"
¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥
"Of course the Ale House is the solution, or else they would not have sent Pathfinders!" and adding under his breath, "Or a very, very clever trap..."
"And what do you mean by *get* drunk? That would require us to have become sober."
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The Master of Scrolls looks at Eadie with a bit of distaste- like a grumpy grandfather having to deal with children.
There have beentwo robberies so far. The first stolen relic was a shard from a lance Iomedae used in a battle with a demon when she was mortal. The other was a pen that a Chelish noble claims was used by Asmodeus to create the accord with House Thrune. Neither of the relics has been validated as authentic, so their worth is questionable. Nevertheless, they are invaluable to study and the fact that they are likely going to be sequestered in some private museum or collection is infuriating to the Society.
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"Oh, you are a big strong lad, erhm... lass!"
Eadie tilts her head to one side like a pound puppy. “I can’t say I’ve ever been mistaken for a man, Lhug.”
“Have you?”
As Eadie drops her helm back over her head, you can see her smile, before the visor hides her face from view.
☺☺☺☺☺☺
In situations like this Eadie always asks herself what her childhood hero Blackjack would do.
Holy Gather Information! I know!
The Dark Knight approaches a tradesman in the street and says in a wooden voice.
“Citizen, what lousy weather we’ve been experiencing lately, huh? Have you heard of any unsettling activity in and around the God’s Market?”
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Unlike his partners, Lhug has been doing some "research" in this area for the last several days.
The God’s Market is a sort of bazaar filled with various vendors hawking all sorts of religious items. All of the major gods are represented, as are many minor gods. One can purchase religious texts, items of worship, holy water, and even minor blessings in the God’s Market.
It is policed by a group of guards called the Graycloaks. They are sworn to hold no god
above any other and are all staunch atheists. They are easily identified by their plain, unadorned gray cloaks, but wear nothing else to make them stand out.
The commander of the Graycloaks is Runewulf the Unbeliever, a hard man known for being harsh but fair in all things. Runewulf doesn’t believe in anything he can’t see or feel for himself.
Erastil’s Alehouse is a thriving brewery and alehouse run by monks of Erastil. Located near the edge of the Avenue of the Hopeful, it’s currently a challenge to enter, with a mob of followers of a would-be-god crowding around the entrance hoping to catch a glimpse of the future godling drinking a swig of ale. A monk stands at the entrance blocking the path of some of the more aggressive followers who are trying to squeeze into the alehouse.
The monk at the entrance looks up with a frustrated expression on his face. I’m sorry, my friends, but the Alehouse is a mite full at the moment.
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Lhug-Mor scans the alleyways and balconies for another means of entrance in case "diplomacy fails" as it normally does.
"These Greycloaks are my kind of people. I behold to no man or god. Should make me popular with these lot," jabbing his thumb back at the monks. "But might buy us some credibility with the udedokei."
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Aye friends, I mean no disrespect but you simply can't get into the ale house at the moment. There are just too many people. Why do you want to get in so bad, you don't look the type that wants to get a view of that barrel they are all clamering about.
The monk keeps a very friendly look on his face. He graciously pushes the pure of coins back to the cleric.
Looking past the monk Ruprecht sees that the monk is telling the truth. The place is packed. There simply isn't a way to get into the place that wouldn't involved elbowing pass dozens of people. If if you did get in the inn, having a conversation would simply be impossible.
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Eadie removes her helm and cradles it in the crook of her left arm. She taps her right index finger against her lips as she thinks. Eventually ...
"My friends, I believe there are two viable options that we could pursue."
She pauses for dramatic effect.
"Number 1. We buy a stag head, disguise Woody as Erastil himself and demand entry by divine right - 'cos He's like the Boss, yeah?"
"Or Number 2. We check out the first name on the list, and come back to the brew house later."
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Eadie smiles and gives both le lézard noir and the Everbloom’s envoy a friendly shove each.
O, Master of the First Vault! Watch over your servants Lhug-mor and Fleetwood. I sense they are great kidders!
“So, to the shop near the Accidental God’s temple then?”
Eadie says to the others. “What’re the chances that there’ll be an alehouse attached to A SECOND temple that we visit today?”