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"First, before you leave, a little bit of a stirring beat to help you focus on the task at hand and move you a bit more swiftly upon your errands. Move quickly and safely!"
"I suggest either Valsog or Morak first, then the other, then the tavern, time permitting. We can do recruiting after curfew at the tavern, but having logistics in place so our improvised resistance has gear to resist WITH is critical. Or... the canard that folks toss around Absalom about Liberty's Edge freeing slaves and then letting them starve to death because they don't know what to do for themselves. We build something for them to use. Sound like an idea?"
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"So it is the tavern... Or we could split in two group. One tavern and the other the blacksmith.
But my experience says... One thing at a time. Soo tavern. "
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"Have you considered the possibility that our immediate arrival at the tavern will cement anyone in authority to shut down an apparent hotbed of dissent, before they even have a chance to get armed or equipped? I mean, it's right next door, right? Where would be the first place you would look for us if we aren't at the Council house? And how much stuff do you have in your pack? If necessary, we can re-distribute the load if it's hampering you that much?"
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Rae picks up the pack hesitantly with a bit of an eyeroll.
"We should probably stick together. But not take a lot of time getting checked in. If it seems like it's dragging, why don't you take the point, Dai, and then the rest of us can go investigate the city? Just a thought?"
"Just don't expect me to be your hireling carrying around your gear. Pathfinders of our experience should know how to carry their *own* gear." That gets a bit of a smirk from the bard, who doesn't seem to be straining too much with the pack - but still, it's an extra bag he doesn't normally carry.
The blade on his hip, though, is either suffering horrible mechanical malfunctions or is laughing it's figurative pommel off.
"Serves you right, Rae, after what you did to Kalkamedes in Varisia. You have NO room to talk, friend!"
As you part ways with Eurdan he offers one last piece of advice. "If you recieve an invitation to the palace, be on your guard. The last group of your people were never seen again after accepting such..." And with that, he is on his way.
The Fifth Facet is a square, two-story, stone tavern that sits on the main roadway of Crystalcrag. The smell of charred timber and cooked food waft gently out of multiple windows hewn into the building’s facade.
As you enter, much raucous conversation goes quiet as you are noticed. Many of the oreads watch you surreptitiously while others do so with open curiosity. Then the rumble of quiet voices resumes and now you feel quite certain that many groups are now discussing you, if they were not before.
A very sturdy looking oread behind the bar smiles and addresses your group in the strange grinding, clacking language of his kind. Then he seems to realize his mistake and laughs, sounding like a small avalanch of guffaws as he begins to pour stone tankards of ale. "Forgive me, strangers. I forget myself. Please, come and sit and have a drink on the house. I am eager to hear your stories of the outside world, the farther the better!" He grins as he finishes pouring and settles on his elbows with a wistful look on his face. Several other oread lean in closer to listen as you approach the bar.
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Lymwin watches Rae picking up and carrying Dailung's stuff. Then she shakes her head. Don't think about that, you can carry your own stuff like a real Pathfinder.
Lymwin does not have any preferences so she just follows where the group goes. "I'm not good at time management or tactics, I'll follow where you lead." she says to the others.
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Looking around the tiny women jumps on a table and looks around for a moment, puts her hand on the grip of her longsword as if to hold herself, before she starts to speak."My fellow newfound friends. My name is Dailung and my fellow pathfinders came to your oh so beautiful city to find some lost comrades. And now I find a city filled with people enslaved in all but name. But even worse it is not people who are enslaved, but also their race and their future. But it is not the whip or magic that enslaves you. It is your fear that shackles you. And if you do not cast off those chains your race will face extinction! No Tyrant, no warlord, no despot can hold a folk back, that wants their freedom. No desire, but the hope for a better future can fuel the heart with conviction the moment you say NO MORE! If you want to change something we can aid you, just say so, we are here and our reward is your Freedom."
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Rae winces a bit as Dailung steps right into the thick of things with nary a moment to catch his breath before dramatically and quietly dropping the bag he was carrying onto the table with the tiny woman.
"Your bag, miss. Hopefully you'll find a good room to put it in."
He'll glance to the barkeep. "One of whatever the brew of the month is,as long as the average human can drink it, please."
A tip of 5gp will be left on the counter in Andoran, Irriseni, Varisian, Gokan, and Absalomian coin.
And then a screeching of metal on metal resonates from Rae's hip, the long-time pain of ill-formed mithral clashing against itself...
Snowmask Brother Rae Alain Paight, Hero of Magnimar, Icebreaker of the Jadwiga!!!"
The bard clears his throat...
"Once upon a time in a frozen land far away..."
He pauses briefly to make sure he has everyone's attention as he rests his hand on the pommel of the blade, as if to still the clashing vibrational tone of the blade's speech...
"A shorter people with a span of attention and a focus that some would say bordered on the 'stubborn' nature of stone - for they came from the stone beneath the earth - thought they, too, could hide away from the world, using unknown and ancient magics in the middle of an assault by a powerful witch-mother-queen.
They ended up trapped in a world not of their choosing, because they were desperate, and unwilling to bend, unwilling to see the world around them changing even as things became worse and worse.
Fortunately, stone is not as stubborn as a dwarf. In the vaults below these lands the land is moving, slowly as befits the nature of time.
But even there fire attempts to quicken the pace, to melt the stone and make it white-hot and flowing, forgetting that all things need their place. This prompts an important question...
Can you move faster than a dwarf?"
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Lars speaks, first with his head hung slightly.
"We all have choices to make in life. We face them everyday. One of the most important is choosing when to make a stand. I was given that choice once years ago, and I am ashamed to say that I chose to flee."
He raises his head, first looking at the ceiling for a moment, then looking into the eyes of the people gathered around the room.
"I left all I had known. Just gave it up, rather than try to make my homeland a better place. But you have the chance to choose better. Together, we are strong. Together, we can throw off the chains that bind you. Join with us, and we will stand by you now, and into a peaceful and prosperous future!"
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Popol clears his throat. "Thanks for your hospitality. You would guess, hearing my companions, that we have a reason why we are here."
The wizard glances the costumers.
"Neverless, I will tell you the fartest adventure, I had. I am no teller of story like my friend, the bard."
A globe of Golarion appears.
"We are here,"pointing their location. "And this story, happen at the other side of the globe, in a land called Tian xia. Following our mission of showing the wonders of this world, our society have established a lodge there a few year ago. Using an artefact, I go there with other to received our mission."
The globe disapears showing an bunch of pictures of tian xia while Popol resume his mission.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Many of the Oread seem downright alarmed at the swift manner with which the Pathfinders leap into their diatribes. Voices of dissent from the more vocal members ring out among the crowd, resistant to the heavy handed approach.
"Who are you calling slaves? We're not slaves! Maybe Valsog could be considered a slave, but not me!"
"We try to stay hidden here. Is it our fault some folk can't keep their noses out of other people's business?"
"We shouldn't even be talking about this... Tygora wouldn't like it..."
"What are they saying? Are they going to hurt our children? It's not their fault how they were born..."
Rae's vague story and challenge seems to confuse some. The oread seem to respond more positively to Lars' approach, looking thoughtful and grim at his words. And many gaze at Popol's manifestation of Golarion with wistful wonder in their eyes. Overall, the oread in the tavern are paying very close attention to what you say. Some look fearful, some stubbornly resistant, but most have a look of grave determination in their stony faces. The bartender is one of these latter.
"Now then, lets all just be calm now." He rumbles in his deep voice to the agitated oread. Turning to you he says, "I am Delgur. I hear what you are saying, but perhaps my patrons would feel better about things if they had a clearer idea of what it is you intend to do here. And what you expect from us."
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"Wow, yeah, that wasn't one of my better efforts. Sorry. Let's back it up and slow it down some." The bard is humbled and actually a bit ashamed at the poor performance.
Rae will offer to buy a round for the entire bar for a few moments of attention.
"We are agents of the Pathfinder Society."
He pulls out his flag and sets it to lean across his shoulder, so everyone can see it.
"Some time ago, several of our fellow agents came to this valley investigating rumors that we now know are Crystalcrag.
They didn't report in after a certain point, and the worst has been feared. Our organization sent us to investigate, see if we could bring our agents back home, and perhaps even bring knowledge of the outside to you.
When we were talking to Eurdan, he mentioned what has been happening here in town. Quite a few of us are either oriented along the axis of justice, or because things are 'the right thing to do'.
This zeal you just saw is part of the strength of some of our organization, but also can be the greatest weakness, because crazy ideas that are unsound, unproven, and quicker than a spark from a bonfire put into action.
We want to help you, but perhaps you could tell us what sort of capabilities you have to bring to the fore?
Obviously, with Tygora's forces having grown over the past few years and quite militaristic, a direct fight is right out as an option unless the circumstances become truly dire.
Not to mention that some of you have kin on the other side, and the worst wars are 'civil' ones, where kin turns against kin.
What sort of information, if any, do you have about Tygora's fortress? Do any of you work there? Are there alternate routes in? Are prisoners held there, or put to work there?
You mentioned Valsog might be a slave, but not you... are they chained to their workplace?
Do you have special talents or capabilities or work in particular trades that might be useful?
No idea is too small, no thought too grand.
And... we're going to need someone to keep the ifrit distracted -- no fighting, no riots, please -- while we check in on Valsog and Morak and find out everything we can to resolve this as peacefully as we can manage, without forgetting that you are a part of this community, too.
Come to think of it, beyond curfew, what other rules are important to know about in town besides 'Tygora is in charge'?"
And... if we're all lucky, we might even be able to find some of your people who have gone missing, hopefully unhurt as well."
Rae will finally take a sip from his drink. He's parched from all that talking...
This attempt seems much more satisfactory. Dropping Eurdan's name sends a cascade of whispers through the crowd and goes a long way toward a much more desirable result. The oread do their best to answer Rae's questions.
"We want to help you, but perhaps you could tell us what sort of capabilities you have to bring to the fore?"
They glance between each other with uncertain looks on their faces. "We are not warriors. We are builders and craftspeople, merchants and scholars. The Ifrit serve as Tygora's soldiers."
"What sort of information, if any, do you have about Tygora's fortress? Do any of you work there? Are there alternate routes in? Are prisoners held there, or put to work there?"
A chorus of shaking heads answers in the negative. "It is written the palace grew up of her magic when she cast the wish. No oread sets foot inside, but the Ifrit might tell you. If you could convince them."
"You mentioned Valsog might be a slave, but not you... are they chained to their workplace?"
Delgur answers this question personally as the oread who mentioned him now looks embarrassed at having said anything. "Valsog is a slag giant. Tygora captured him and brought him here against his will, but he has become a good and stable member of our community. She placates him by providing all he needs to his forge, but it's hard to imagine he is truly happy in his role."
Delgur continues, "Make no mistake... if your people are still alive within the palace, and you mean to free them... it will come to a fight. There's no doubt about that. But we may be able to provide the distraction you are looking for. If we merely oppose the curfew en masse, Tygora would surely send the Ifrit to bring us to heel. We might be able to hold them back from the fray when you decide to make your move." This draws a wave of assent from the tavern's clientele. They are not eager to harm their kin, but a silent protest and blockade is much more their speed.
Having secured the Oread's promise of help, you seek out your next contact that Eurdan recommended: Valsog’s Smithy and Armory. As you take your leave, you notice many of the tavern's patrons are leaving as well, busting about the streets and rapping on the doors of homes to spread the word of your forming plan.
Smoke rises from a massive chimney in this open-sided smithy, whose ceiling rises at least twenty feet above the ground at its lowest point. A fenced yard hosts a multitude of swords, shields, breastplates, and helms — some are propped up on stands and others lying incomplete in piles. The cadence of steel on steel rings out from the shop.
Most of the shop is simply a sturdy pavilion containing a central forge, half a dozen anvils of varying sizes, and a pair of immense ceiling-mounted bellows. Racks mounted on pillars hold hammers of many sizes, and several large barrels filled with either water, oil, or bars of iron.
A sturdy humanoid of great proportions works diligently at the forge, his hammer falling in an unbroken, steady rhythm. He is fully 14 feet tall and his skin is the color of rust and streaked with soot. He rumbles something at you in the stony language of the Oread without looking up from his project, his eyes filled with focused determination.
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Rae can't help it. With the hammering rhythm, what's a bard to do but use it as the backbeat for their own drumming?
He starts thumping on his well-crafted side-drum to the hammering, but kicking the speed up a slight bit to make it a bit more of a staccato...
"Sorry! Do you know Taldane?"
It'll end this discussion really quickly if we can't communicate...
The slag giant raises his eyes from his work only long enough to take in your appearance, but his ringing hammer does not even miss a beat. "I hear you, fleshlings. What do you need of Valsog?"
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"Eurdan and Delgur have both mentioned you have needs and wants, and you are not getting them. What can we do to help you get what you need and want?"
"In return, maybe you can help us free our friends somehow that have been captured by Tygora recently?"
Rae attempts to be firm and work the words between the rings of the hammer
The painfully metal on metal screeching voice on Rae's hip chimes in. "We're here to free folks who've been held against their will." Rae places his hand on the pommel of the blade, not drawing it. "Easy, there, friend, we were getting to that."
Valsog finally pauses and looks your way. "You are misinformed. I have what I need and want. I have work and a place to do it. It sounds that you are the ones with needs and wants you are not getting."
The slag giant looks to your equipment. "You are well outfitted. You have not come for weapons or armor? I cannot help you." His eyes linger on Gamin, and he shakes his giant head and sighs, saying “Dwarven craftsmanship — such a gorgeous piece of work, ruined. Pity that.” He returns to his hammering, "I have much work, fleshlings. If Tygora has your friends, you have my sympathy."
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"He is constructing an army right? What better idea to create a safer community than conquering the neighboring village" says Popol.
[b]"Could you give us a way to go pass those defence? A weakness not seen?
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"What sort of arms and armor do you sell, Valsog? Are they the works of a master, enough to make my friend jealous? If they're not, then you have--" The bard's tone is not harsh, but it is firm, as the giant's words were kind of harsh. He's cut off before he can say anything further, though, by his blade.
Gamin's painfully clashing tone is almost pleading with Rae to stop. He knows he wasn't crafted right. But he sure as heck didn't need to be run into the coal over it!
"Rae. Just. Stop. He said his words. Please, just let it lie. Please be nice to the smith who knows what real quality is but isn't afraid to delve into mass quantities." And who could squish you with his hammer in mere seconds. Your heart's in the right place but let the guy breathe! Gamin thinks.
The bard is kind of thrown by that comment and is speechless for a few moments.
Valsog looks rather discomfited by Popol's assertion. "Tygora does not share her plans with me... but she presses for more and more arms. You may have the right of it, elf. She expects another shipment from me today and I must hurry if it will be ready in time."
Looking around Dailung takes the cue."I think you are a master. And you live and breath creating the best. Is the sword really ruined... or can a master like you find the imperfections and beat the metal let it sing and repair it? And again bath yourself in the glory of a great creation?"
The slag giant pauses and considers this. "My craftsmanship is adequate. It would be better if I were allowed more time, but Tygora is ever impatient. I do not know if I could repair the sword. It would gratify me to try, but it would take more time than I am allowed."
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"How much do you get paid per weapon or suit of armor?" Rae finally asks after recovering from the moment of speechlessness.
"Also, how much are you selling the suits and armor you're working on right now for?"
Gamin gives Rae a comforting nudge and then clears his 'throat'. "What would you need to get more time? Could we hire you? How much time are you allowed? And why would a crafter like yourself only be 'allowed' a certain amount of time on a given piece of equipment? Impatience or not, work takes time, and rushing it... well... you get folks like me..." He'd at least be willing to try, which was more than some of my thrice-soaked creators were willing to do! And since *WHEN* did I become the spokesperson for quality work??
Valsog nods as he continues his work. "It is true that rushed labor yields inferior results." He turns a critical eye to the piece he is currently working and frowns as he sets it down and picks up another. "Tygora gives me wages and materials for her contract orders. Anything I can construct after her contracts are filled, prior to the deadline, I may set my own price for sale. Prices depend upon the materials used, the amount of labor and the quality of the final product. If I had more time, I might accept commissioned work... but if the rate of Tygora's demand does not decline, I doubt I will ever have that luxury."
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Dinali grips her longsword by the hilt before taking a deep breath and opening her mouth again.
"So ... do I understand it right. You are required to fulfill Tygoras demands, given deadlines and material, so you do not have a chance to set your own pace and are forced to work items at a rate that does not really satisfys you and gives you now freedom to pursue a more interesting project. Sorry, but you might get wages, but you are not free to choose what you do! Time to do what ones hard desires is a basic thing, a much needed luxery for the soul.Look at this blade. You could make it great, you know it yourself. But as long as you are not free, you never have a chance. Look into the mirror and admit you think I was forced to make common work when I could have created great works. I coulda been class, I could have been an Artisan of the highest order, I could have been someone... instead of a producer of common quality, wich I was.. MB, patron saint of great speeches help me that I find the right tone!
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I've got this. Thank you, Dailung!
"Art is the truest expression of the self, the very essence of one's being brought out for everyone to see, that one part where people look at a thing and go with a proud voice -- or a humble one, not everyone is for the spotlight turned on them.
It pains me deeply as a follower of the Eternal Rose to see an artist suffering under the constraints of someone who doesn't understand what is important in life. Shelyn would insist I do whatever is needed to let your Muse be free, to inspire you to the greatest you can be, and in turn inspire others.
So with the conversation in mind, we need to get Tygora to reconsider her foolish fiery haste on your behalf, then?"
Rae doesn't mention that might also require some other means, but it might be obvious given the amount of equipment the party possesses.
"Just to be certain, your quota requirements are to 'provide arms and armor' to Tygora's forces, right? There's no requirement to the quality of said arms, is there? I mean, if you're making things that you're not satisfied with there, and you consider it junk compared to what you make, does it matter what level of 'junk' they are at? Do the ones who pick up the deliveries even at the product?"
"Or is it delivered to the fortress, sight unseen?" Rae gives a bit of a grin to the rest of the party. If they don't check the crates and assume that it's a shipment, that could be our 'in'
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Popol is listening for a moment the discussion. Thinking to what to say. An idea put in his mind. He looks around to find a clue of what the smith would like.
"Let's be direct. What do you wish and that you don't have the time and you think we could help you for?
I have enough magic and contact that we could find tool that would help you.
Also, if we could convince tygora he need less weapon and magic research of Diplomacy with the outside the burden could lessen to you. Or the contrary, better quality that would that train apprentices to accelarate the process. That way you could concentrate on the creativity process."
-Posted with Wayfinder
The slag giant shakes his head at Popol's words. "You may as well try to bargain with open flame, elf. Tygora will not be swayed by words."
He seems to anticipate Rae's intentions. "I will not package you up for delivery, fleshlings. If you fail, there would be no question of my treachery. I must be able to survive here no matter what your outcome."
Valsog pauses to consider. "It rankles to do so... but I might sabotage my own wares. If Tygora survives your assault, I could claim that I need more time to produce quality work and that would be no falsehood. Very well, I will do what I can to aid you in this way. I will need my remaining time to achieve this task. Good luck, fleshlings. You will need it." He trades a hammer for a file and chisel and begins weakening the arms he previously repaired.
This wood-and-stone structure sits on a busy street corner, red and orange paint brightening its exterior. A sign depicting colorful vials and a beaker hangs above the door.
The Everburning Flame is actually just the storefront for a collection of structures dedicated to transforming the Zho Mountains’ many minerals and hardy plants into a wide variety of alchemical remedies, tools, and weapons.
The compound’s foundations and lower walls are stone; the upper half of the walls is made of wood and has numerous small windows and chimneys to vent fumes before they reach dangerous concentrations. A small garden full of rare herbs extends behind the building.
Your party enters, and Dailung is about to interrupt the alchemist with a polite cough, when she realizes this is no benign interaction. The alchemist seems very upset as he apparently argues with four Ifrit. He raises his hands in protest just as they begin smashing flasks against the wooden structures of the buildings. Your noses tell you that whatever the substance is, it is as flammable as this situation is incendiary.
One of the Ifrit notice your entrance and glares with his fiery eyes. "We are here on Queen Tygora's orders! Do not interfere!" he warns.
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If this substance takes to flamme, it will not bother those ifrits. Also... Queen tygora? She's a woman? Ok. I didn"t notice.
Popol smiles at the ifrit.
"We do not wish to interfere with the queen order's as we are only visitor and even not ifrit. Mister? "
Popol's hand are open. His robe of flame do not burn the oil.
"Neverless, it is obvious there a conflit here that have escalated. I know that as great you ifrits are, interacting with Oread is something you are not focusing on.
You already are much more competent that I was in your age. I only wish to provide my aid with my hundred of year of experience to provide a satisfactory boon for both parts without using further violence even if this is for you justifiable.
As a lowly elf, I am in no position to even comphrend a grasp of your Queen's intention, but I feel that destroying a shop will not be helpful in the long-term to obtain the cooperation of someone. "
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"Oh, dangit. And I didn't even say it. You're much better at this than I am. If you are aiming at survival, could I ask a small favor of you, no pun intended..."
Rae pulls out an ink jar, a pen and some paper.
"Would you be willing to keep a note for future adventurers in the event something DOES happen to us, so our story can be told good, bad, or ugly? As you noted you're already considering the 'need more time' angle, so it's not like they're going to be riding you too much with constant inspections -- that'd eat up the time you'd gotten, right?"
If Valsog is amenable, Rae will leave a very brief note for any future explorers or Pathfinders in the event things don't go very well detailing the situation.
Either way, the bard is polite, understanding, and will hastily catch up to the rest of the team...
Rae watches the flammable materials and the alchemist's shop with a bit of panic. He's been blown up before and it wasn't a pleasant experience, though he did get better...
"This community was founded on security and safety. If this place is engulfed in flame, the safety and security of the community will be endangered.
Please tell us that Queen Tygora is not going back on her word to the hard-working oread of this community?
Surely there is no crime here that could merit such a course of action?"
The Ifrits hesitate, but still look annoyed at your intrusion. "This oread refuses to pay his proper tribute to our Queen! If you want to help, convince him that he should give his contribution, now! Tygora deserves, nay, DEMANDS respect!"
A crowd of the oread have assembled outside and look on with concerned faces.
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Eternal Rose, they're just like the idiots back home with their jumped-up delusions of grandeur and lack of accountability!
"All who have earned respect shall receive it in proper form. Queen Tygora is a very powerful person who has clearly done great works. Great enough, I think, that She would probably be upset with individuals attempting to undermine Her clear, solid, and sound authority here in this community with 'shake-down' attempts.
Especially ones that disrupt the peace of this community.
However, we are outlanders and guests here in this city, so we want your community to thrive, properly. Vandalizing the property of a citizen carries how much of a fine?
As my comrade has already inquired... how much is the 'proper tribute' for a solid hard-working citizen of this community whose place of work has been defaced by well-meaning yet misguided citizens?"
Bleh. I really don't like doing this. Makes me no better than those arrogant nobles back home.
"Citizens?" The lead Ifrit spits the word as if it has befouled his mouth. "We are no citizens! We are Tygora's enforcers and what we enforce is her will. All businesses of Crystalcrag are required to contribute a portion of their goods to Tygora, but this stubborn rock-head refuses. We were sent to convince him of the error of his ways or else if we could not, make an example of him. If you want to help, you should turn your powers of persuasion on him and set him right."
The Ifrit turn to the alchemist and growl something in the hissing, crackling language that they speak and then turn to go.
The alchemist relaxes visibly after the Ifrit have gone. "I am Morak and I can't thank you enough for stopping them. If they had set fire to the place it would have spread quickly and quite possibly caused a chain reaction! Alchemical reagents should not be exposed to open flame. Here, I'm sure I have something I can give you for a reward, just a moment!" He rummages for a bit and comes back carrying a caddy with several potions.
"Here we are! These are bound to be helpful if you must tangle with the Ifrit while you are here. This last one is really something special, if I do say so myself." He boasts proudly. "Now, was there something else you needed?"
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About to grab the potion Dailung hesitates."Are you sure? Those bullies were about to take potions and if you give them to us won't you be in trouble? Well what we need, difficult to phrase. We just found out that there is something very rotten here. Very! The questions is do you want to change or do you feel the little stability is worth the hard oppression? If the answer is no, well we can aid you in the task to liberate yourselves!" The girl tries to read the alchemist but fails
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"Enforcing the will of a Queen. This is a big responsability you have on you shoulders. Espacially if this is how you see yourself. Having other on the side must been a boon for you.
If you want to be a better in this rôle, this a suggestion. Be with those oreads time to time. Participate in their festivities. Talk to them lije an equal even if you don't think you are. That way, they will listen more of what you are saying and be more will to do what you say and by extension the Queen.
Take this alchemist, have you tell his name and why the Queen need this tax?
Anyway. Good day, mister the ifrit. We will convince him to do what necessary for this community.
[b]"You are welcome. " he says to the alchemist. "But why you don't want to pay? More importantly, why are doing this alone? Going against what could be was family will bring nothing but widen the distance between you. I suspect that is one of Tygora goals.
Also we have a friend alchemist here I suppose you could copy each other, if you want."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Oh... I was forgoting something
"By the way, I am Popol. Pathfinder and we are here because Eurdan recommand you. He is now in the run because he gives us shelter. We want to liberate our own and probably other innocent along the way.
Also there a defiance of the night order... If you to join. No violence is necessary. "
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"I'm Rae. Let's boil it down a bit further, shall we? What has or has not Tygora done that you were willing to resist and not provide materials as called out for under the apparent rules? That's a very dangerous thing to do and it could have gone very badly if we had not shown up..."
Rae will gladly take the fire resist potion, with grateful thanks, and suggest that those who do not have some sort of healing device take the potions of healing. He doesn't think the last potion would be very useful to him, and is willing to defer to the party's decision on who gets it.