This thread is for in character posts only please.
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A stocky and disheveled dwarf warily enters the room.
"Was told to come,", he grumbles. As he gets closer, the smell of pure animal musk is a bit overwhelming.
Pathfinder's helped Hugo, so Hugo help Pathfinders now.
He tries to smile at the others, to show he is friendly, but it comes off more as a grimace.
I am actually finalizing this character, but basically will be a hardy dwarf barbarian, sort of a dwarven Tarzan. I plan to maybe add some druid levels down the road.
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A stocky Dwarf wearing a simple shirt and trousers, walks in to the room. His rather plain appearance could mark him as nought but a townie were it not for the backpack slung over a shoulder and the strips of cloth wrapped around his hands.
"Greetings friends." He says cheerfully. "Name's Fellstone. I was told to meet...up...here...." The Dwarfs voice trails off and his brow crinkles as the smell of animal musk hits him.
Irori's blessed backside! Were they rolling around in the stables?
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What might be a human child at first glance comes into the room, bouncing a bit on her toes. After a moment's glance, the other Pathfinders can recognize she is in fact a mature adult, merely a member of the gnome race. She is brightly dressed in the attire of Vudra, complete with a number of tiny bells sewn onto her clothing that jingle softly.
"Hello!" she says eagerly. "I am Roshan! So very happy to meet all of you! I have never traveled with earth-born before!"
Hopefully they will not be so angry as the elf I traveled with last time, she thinks to herself.
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A half-orc, short for his race yet very well built, strides into the room to join you.
His bare torso reveals a network of concentric circle tattoos cut through with lines, bumps, and dots along the left side of his body, running all the way up his face and over his bald pate. The markings are only broken by a baldric running over his shoulder from which hangs a greataxe.
With a grumble, he nods to you and lets himself in. "My name. Is Kagar." Seeing Fellstone, he cocks a brow and nods to him directly. Perhaps a sign of acknowledgment? Respect? Perhaps even he is not sure.
Another in the study of physical performance. Perhaps we may learn of each other.
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"Oh? Hello." The woman behind the door seems startled at first to see her rescuer. As if the voices she where hearing were nothing more than ghostly mutterings currently issuing from the depths of the closets interior.
Roshan notices that the stranger's amber eyes don't quite focus on her, and the woman's bright autumn colored motley looks as if it's been slept in--a lot.
"Thank you for unfolding me." She says with a smile. She reaches out to take the gnome's hands with her own and Roshan notices the scars upon her wrists cut into a pair of matching patterns.
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A half-orc, short for his race yet very well built, strides into the room to join you.
His bare torso reveals a network of concentric circle tattoos cut through with lines, bumps, and dots along the left side of his body, running all the way up his face and over his bald pate. The markings are only broken by a baldric running over his shoulder from which hangs a greataxe.
With a grumble, he nods to you and lets himself in. "My name. Is Kagar." Seeing Fellstone, he cocks a brow and nods to him directly. Perhaps a sign of acknowledgment? Respect? Perhaps even he is not sure.
Fellstone looks up, and up, at Kagar, and grins. He thrusts a hand out to clasp at the larger Orcs in greeting. "Well met, my large friend." he says cheerily. "You look to be of a profession similar to mine own. A devotee of the sweet science of the fisticuff?"
Fresh off their induction into the Society and the completion of their basic training within the organization, the group of new Pathfinders find themselves in the office of Ambrus Valsin, the venture-captain in charge of daily operations in and around the Grand Lodge. The efficient and straightforward chamberlain greets the group curtly and motions for them to sit.
Sitting behind a large darkwood desks is a meticulously groomed human man with dark hair and a mustache that ties in with his sideburns. He stand and begins his briefing not waiting for everyone to get settled.
“All right, Pathfinders! Listen up. I know you are new recruits
eager to make names for yourselves in the organization, but
first we need to make sure you are up to snuff and won’t get
yourself killed out there. I have a number of small assignments
for you and your team, and it would be best if you could
finish them before the day’s end.
“Every day we get some doe-eyed hopeful or
some sniveling bootlicker willing to do anything
to join up with the Pathfinders. Most of them are
good kids, but not all of them have the salt to
make it in a world like this. It’s rough out there
and I’m not just talking about the ruins, tombs,
and wilderness Pathfinders find themselves
in on missions. We’ve got people who look
down their noses at us, folks who think
we squander our resources, and agents
who want to take everything we have
collected. This wealth of knowledge
and these items of lore make us the
most powerful organization on the
planet. That said, since we are fractured
and widespread, it’s difficult for that power
to light on anything for too long. For every friend of the
Society, there are two enemies.
“Your first mission, to test your mettle and loyalties, sends
you to meet a few people important to the Society living here
in Absalom. These are other venture-captains or close allies of
our organization, so follow their orders as you would mine. I’ve
prepared a list of things I want you to do. They’re not arranged
in any particular order of importance, but I want them all
completed as quickly as possible. Only report to me once you
complete them all. Included in the envelope you hold in your
hands is the list, complete with the name of your contact, and
directions to the meeting location.”
Eyeing the group he lets out a big sigh. ”Do you have any questions?”
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"Well met, my large friend." he says cheerily. "You look to be of a profession similar to mine own. A devotee of the sweet science of the fisticuff?"
Before the briefing, he offers the slightest of shrugs. "More as... self-improvement. Beating doesn't help if you still end up beaten."
After the briefing given to them, Kagar checks over the list. He nods after reading it and says simply "Consider it done."
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"I have no objections," Roshan chirps. The gnome has settled into a cross-legged position on the floor of the briefing office, but bounces to her feet. She looks over the list in turn. "I think Zarta is a pretty name! Let's go meet her!"
Eager as the child she sort-of resembles, Roshan jogs outside, where a sleek black panther is lolled in the sun of the courtyard. The panther is saddled as if for riding, and Roshan climbs onto the cat's back.
"Oh, I should let you all know-- if you have wands that can heal you, I know how to use those!" the gnome states proudly. "If you want me to. I have one of my own."
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The efficient and straightforward chamberlain greets the group curtly and motions for them to sit.
Faeria suddenly drops from where she had been standing to sit upon the floor, eye level with most people's knees.
When Valsin rises Faeria looks about the room half ready to rise herself until she notices no one else looks as if they are about to.
Eyeing the group he lets out a big sigh. ”Do you have any questions?”
Faeria raises her hand and eagerly waits to be called on from the floor.
If given permission she hesitates not wanting to be rude and leave before the meeting is adjourned.
Venture Captain Valsin see a hand waving in the air just over his desk and moves around to the front. As he does he see that it was Faeria and rolls his eyes. ”Stand up!” Once she does. ”Yes what is your question?” After hearing her question. ”Yes you may. Now all of you get out and be back before the day is done.”
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Fellstone mulls over the four tasks, trying to decide which one to take on first. He doesn't know any of these people and finds that any one of those tasks seems to be just as important as any other. It was a little disappointing after the last quests that he'd been sent on.
"The Paracountess is as good a place to start as any, I suppose." he says with a shrug and makes ready to leave.
The Foreign Quarter is the city district in which many of Absalom's foreign population resides. The Foreign Quarter lies west of the Coins and north of the Puddles. The lower taxes for non-citizens in this section of the city has made it quite popular for immigrants from the rest of the Inner Sea and beyond. Foreign merchants with businesses find the area particularly attractive due to an equivalent extension of 'citizenry protection' offered to any resident of the Foreign Quarter who has lived there for greater than three months. This area of the city has a distinct culturally exotic feel, even compared to the city as a whole. Two of the principal attractions would be the Irorium, a combat arena in which daily matches are held and the Grand Lodge, Pathfinder Society's massive fortress.
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Kagar is quite fine with walking. "Everywhere is walking distance from everywhere else. It only matters how far you want to walk," he grumbles.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The heart of art, culture, and performance in Absalom, the Ivy District is the smallest and among the most expensive places to live in the city, which is ironic because so many of its residents are struggling artists with little spare coin. The exclusivity of the tree-lined streets give the neighborhood its name, which attracts a wealthier and more aristocratic demographic than the seedier parts of town located down the bluff toward the harbor. Filled with theaters, galleries and discrete parlor houses, the district draws an eclectic array of artists, minor nobles and famous actors. The wide tree lined streets of the Ivy District are busy with people walking a carriages of all shapes and color coming and going.
You see a dark haired woman with cleric trappings watching the group intently from across a crowded street; as a throng of people moves between you and the dark haired woman, the lady disappears into the crowd.
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Fellstone had no problem with walking to their destination. It helped to keep the legs strong after all.
As they were making their way through the streets, something caught the Dwarfs eye. "Well that's curious." he said quietly to his companions, taking his attention off of the woman who was watching them as if he did not notice her. "We seem to be drawing some interest. Dark haired woman. Cleric looking. Across the street."
Arriving at Paracountess Zarta Dralneen’s townhouse in the Ivy District, one of several homes the noblewoman keeps around Absalom, the Pathfinders come upon a magnificent Gothic structure three stories in height. The ebony lacquered double doors wrought with gleaming silver fixtures greet the characters, a prickly brass cone hanging from a chain serving as the door chime.
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Faeria walks toward the grand entrance and utters a short magical phrase.
Without touching the chime a note peels from it. Then a reverberating gong, the sound of children laughing, a cow bell, the tinkling of a small crystal bell, and a dog's bark all follow in quick succession.
Faeria turns and beams at the rest of the party.
Moments after making a lot of weird noises near the door, a servant in loose casual attire opens the door, greeting the Pathfinders as if expected. If questioned, the servant remains quiet, only responding when pressed, and then with only a few simple words: “My mistress will answer any questions you have once we reach her quarters.”
Led through well-appointed sitting rooms, ballrooms, and a grand stairway granting a view of an elaborate study, the Pathfinders finally arrive on the third floor of the house, at the door of Zarta’s personal study, which lies beyond her bedroom. Knocking upon the door and announcing his presence, the servant opens the darkly stained wooden door.
A large intricate carpet dominates the marble floor in this sitting room. A chaise sits along the north wall and a desk spans the southeast corner, its chair positioned with its back to the southwest corner of the room. Three comfortable chairs are positioned around a small, low circular table.
Sitting in the chair behind the desk, Paracountess Zarta Dralneen regards the Pathfinders with a wry smile, putting away a few papers before standing to address the hopeful Pathfinders.
“Aldor, you are dismissed. Close the door behind you and
attend to your other tasks.”
She then turns her attention to the group. “It’s always so
incredibly adorable when I see a fresh faced
batch of Pathfinders. I mean, look at you scrumptious
little teacakes. I could eat each and every one of you up.
Well, maybe not you.” Zarta points Kagar. “I assume this isn’t a
pleasure visit since most of you are terribly overdressed for
that manner of occasion, so that must mean you are here for
that trinket Valsin has been nagging me about. Seems I can’t
get that man around these parts anymore,” she gestures,
sliding her hand down her body and widening the gesture
to sweep out and across the room as if her home were a
secondary thought. “On the good side, he always sends me
all the precious new recruits.”
“Many think we in Cheliax serve and worship devils, but
that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, we use the
creatures for their power. They serve us and we sculpt their
power in our own interests. The world must come to terms
with the order of things. People need to know their place and
operate accordingly. It is the only way to make order from this
world. Too many people stretch too far beyond their station,
making waves and eroding the true order.”
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Kagar scoffs not at the personal slight but her final statement. "Order without opposition is weak. What is right is sussed through effort. Through fighting. Through persistence."
"Where is this... trinket?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Fellstone listened to the Paracountess go on and on about order and scrumptious Pathfinders, and wondered just when she was going to get down to business.
"Paracountess Dralneen, I'm sure such things would be better discussed over tea and cakes." the dwarf said, trying to be as diplomatic sounding as possible, though it probably came out sounding less than that. "We were sent to retrieve an item that you had borrowed from the vaults. If you don't mind, could you let us know where the item is?"
"The 'trinket' Ambrus Valsin sent you to retrieve is a seven-lock iron case. It has seven masterwork locks and several magic seals placed on it." While the paracountess speaks a cacophony of booms and crashes sounds from beyond the room’s west door. The paracountess pauses for a moment while looking at the door. "I was trying to bypass the protections, but it didn't go as planned. I advise you don't try to tamper with the case when bringing it back to the Grand Lodge."
A few more crashes can be heard, followed by another loud boom. "You seem eager to obtain the trinket and be on your way, but I cannot give it to you now. A servant of mine is greatly misbehaving. You’re going to have to deal with it in order to get the trinket."
She goes over to the desk in her study, opening a drawer and drawing out an exquisite silver letter opener shaped like a dagger. "You might need this to get it to submit," she offers with a sly grin.