(PFS) GM Alice's First Steps Part I: In Service To Lore [Group 1] (Inactive)

Game Master Alice Margatroid

Khale exhales, "Nice shot, Li. I would love to see you demonstrate that technique when we have some free time."

He walks over, pokes the imp with the toe of his boot to make sure its dead, then picks up the box.

Trig, whose face is red with embarrassment that his ploy failed, looks at the fading smoke, and at Li, and at his own bow lying at his feet, and back at Li. "Incredible. I'd like to see that too."

Bendy is so impressed, his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. "I was just going to pull it down, or pull myself up. Your way was better." He puts his crossbow and grappling bolt away, consoling them with empty platitudes about how he was sure he'd need them again soon.

"That box is really magical. You may want to be careful with it."

"Khale, how evil is that box?"

"The imp was probably Zarta's familiar. I wonder how she'll take its death."

Li gives Khale and Trig a small bow of gratitude.

"And Li," he says to Bendy in all sincerity, "would like to see that."

Turning back to Trig, he says "If send killers to do job, do not be surprised when death arrives. Besides, if it was familiar, it would obey."

Trig pauses. Is that what we are, killers? Lost in thought, he doesn't argue the point on the imp.

Khale focuses on the box.

Detect eeeeevil.

Khale almost gets a migraine from the incredible evil emanating from within the box. He sees stars in his eyes for a few moments after.

Anything else to do here before we move on to your last task?

Khale blinks a few times, then looks at the rest of the group, "The box contains an extremely evil object. It would be best to return it as quickly as possible - let us continue to our next task."

He quickly fishes a bag out of his pack, places the box inside, then wraps it tightly. He then places that package inside another bag and repeats the process.

Good to go.

I'm done here.

Zarta Dralneen seems to be rather apathetic on the killing of the imp. "He would have been punished quite severely for his misdeeds anyway," she comments dryly, inspecting her fingernails for scant traces of dirt. "And there are always plenty of imps to call into service when I need one."

If asked about the contents of the box, she quite sincerely says she never managed to get into it and so has no idea what was inside. Looks like Kreuvus is the only one to know. Was the only one to know.

You head on back through the Foreign Quarter on your way to the Docks district, stopping in at the Grand Lodge to deposit the unholy god-knows-what for Ambrus to deal with, before continuing on south through the districts of Absalom.

Everyone, please make a Perception check.

-----

The Docks is the gateway into Absalom, and it is a combination of constantly shifting ships and cargo, and cheap places for sailors to get drunk, fulfil their carnal desires, and sleep off the effects of both. It's loud and rowdy as a result, with the smell of fish, sweat, and seawater choking the air.

The Pickled Imp is located down a nondescript alleyway, identified only by a sign swinging in the air above the doorway featuring--you guessed it--an imp suspended upside-down in a bottle of greenish brine. The windows' glass is clouded over, making it difficult to see inside from out. With some trepidation, you enter, a bell jingling to announce your arrival.

This creepy shop contains myriad odds and ends, most bereft of any discernible use. A number of malformed creatures and creature parts bob in jars on a long, prominent shelf, a tiny foetal devil centred in this macabre lineup. The shopkeeper, a greasy-haired Varisian with a thin moustache, shouts from behind the cluttered counter:

"Ah, yes, I see the Pathfinders have arrived," he says with a smile--or perhaps a sneer, you're not quite sure. "I am so glad Ambrus was able to lend a few of his new recruits to help me. Please, come in and let me tell you what I need."

Looking around as if to be absolutely certain no customers are browsing the aisles of knock-off Thuvian burial urns or supposed Azlanti porcelain, he begins again. "But firstly, well met! I am Guaril Karela." His voice is noticeably lilted with a strong Varisian accent, and he often tilts his moustache like the animated hands of a clock as he speaks.

"Here's the story, lads--and lady. A friend of mine has a warehouse near here and he received a parcel on behalf of me and some of my associates. Buuuut... there's just one little problem." Guaril scratches at his stubbly cheek as he continues. "See, Master Gelbane had to leave town in a hurry, and our shipment is still waiting at his warehouse. Rumour is he ended up in trouble with the law and the place was seized. A real pain in the arse, really."

"I heard tell from someone down at the docks that some creep was snooping around his warehouse just the other night, so I want to make sure nothing of mine was taken. He keeps all kinds of things in that old pelican--from beers to nails and god knows what else--but every now and then he stores something real special. This is one of those cases."

"There's a big crate marked with three crows arranged in a triangle. Inside that crate is a smaller container with a few books and papers in it. That's the only parcel I'm interested in, and as far as I'm concerned, you can help yourself to the rest of the crate." He winks. "Honestly, anything else you want in the place too. I'm sure the once things get sorted out, the city will seize most everything else anyway."

"By the by, while I've got your ear. My... associates and I often work with the Pathfinders when it comes to special relics and documents, getting them in and out of ports and across borders where the authorities ask too many questions. Most people don't realize what they have and, frankly, many don't deserve to have it, so sometimes we help take the goods off their hands. If things work out well and you get this done, I'd be glad to talk with you more and help you out with any future endeavors, so long as you help me out too. I'm good at returning favors... trust me." His sneering grin is anything but trustworthy, but you also get the impression he damn well knows what he's talking about.

Trig looks hard at the box while Khale wraps it up. The imp was highly motivated to keep whatever was in it out of human hands. Perhaps that was wisest. It was certain the Society wouldn't let it rest. He shook his head. The question was just too big. "The Lodge wouldn't be too far out of the way if we wanted to drop the box off on our way to the docks."

Let's go. We'll drop our loot at HQ and finish our last task.

Perception -Zarta D. 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 17

Khale's face becomes a mask of disapproval as the man continues to speak, but he manages to contain his distaste for the job and simply remains silent.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
"Did you guys see that halfling? Why was he watching us?"

Being no stranger to smuggling, Arithas doesn't really have that much of a problem with the task at hand.

"Guaril, what sort of dangers can we expect to run across during our endeavour?"

"Huh, wha--- where?" Elysia says confusedly.

Ninja'd by our DM once again. ~sigh

At the lodge:
Percept:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19

"Did you guys see that halfling? Why was he watching us?"

"I saw him. Maybe he's just a fan of the Society, but I doubt it."

***********

At Guaril Karela's :

Trig's initial reaction is pleasure to be dealing with a fellow Varisian, but that soon changes to dismay when he discovers the man's character. If he's not Scarzni, then he's no better than one. He resents the criminals who give is people a bad reputation in many quarters.

"I heard tell from someone down at the docks that some creep was snooping around his warehouse just the other night, so I want to make sure nothing of mine was taken." Maybe we can complete our mission without giving this man any advantage.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

Bendaxalon is unable to see any halfling over all of the longshanks in the street. "If you say so..."

He is unpleased to realize the nature of their task, once it becomes clear. "Right. Retrieve your books and papers from the warehouse. No problem." Not that he has a problem with papers, let alone books; but it seems suspiciously like stealing from the law, even if it wasn't Guaril's fault that his shipment was impounded.

"I don't expect you to have any trouble," Guaril says with a smile. "Just keep your cool; no need to arouse any unnecessary suspicion, especially when you've got a perfectly valid reason to be there. It is my shipment, after all..."

No more questions for Guaril?

I'm good

With everything in order, you bid farewell to Guaril Karela and the Picked Imp for now and head back down to the docks, following the Varisian man's directions to the correct warehouse. It's starting to head into the mid-late afternoon, and most of the dockworkers are finishing up their shifts or about ready to head home. The numerous waterside taverns are quickly filling up as well.

Please make a Sense Motive check.

Perched on the end of a long pier fifteen feet above the water, the warehouse appears to struggle against its own roof, threatening to sag into the bay below. The planks on the pier, which stretches out some 100 feet from the boardwalk and the docks proper, are sturdy but weathered. A few local fishermen and some kids sit scattered along the pier casting nets or bobbing lines into the waters below. A small boat bobs in the water below, tethered to the pier by a stout, salt-crusted rope.

The building looks abandoned and in disrepair. No light shines from the building's windows and only the movement of gulls and pelicans stirs the scene. The windows are dark and dirty and provide no view into the structure's interior. The warehouse's heavy wooden front door is firmly locked, and the loading door is closed to the outside.

MAP

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18

"Someone watching us," says Li conversationally without looking around too obviously.

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 8
"Is there? How can you tell?" Arithas tries hard not to look around, knowing that it would be better for all of them to act like they don't notice.

[b]"This warehouse is a particular type of structure called a pelican warehouse. These buildings perch at the end of piers, allowing a ship to load and unload farther out from the busier docks. Many of them either accommodate smaller vessels that are in a hurry or larger ships unable to find an open dock. Rare these days, most pelican warehouses lie in disrepair, withered from storms and salt, and every year it seems another one falls into the harbour. An increased tax on this type of property keeps many of the owners from rebuilding and some have even relinquished the titles to their small warehouses, allowing them to fall into the hands of squatters and smugglers—or into the bay itself.
Smugglers sometimes use small boats to slip under the warehouse, sawing a hole in the floor or prying boards in the night, and sneaking in to loot the place or just drop a crate into their boat from above and paddle away in the night." Arithas says nonchalantly.

Sense Motive 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
Perception 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

Elysia satres at Arithas in amazement. She also resolves never to date him. He would probably describe the furniture and architecture as we passed. I would be obliged to act interested.

"How interesting"

Ahaha, omg, laughing so hard at that post Elysia. This mod has been great for the random snide comedic comments.

Sense Motive 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
Know (any) 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

I'm glad the elf was quicker to speak than I.

Hearing Li's comment Trig looks around for the halfling he spotted earlier, but sees nothing. "I don't see him."

"Yes darling, we are almost to the restaurant. Oh! A chaise longue! A chaise longue is an upholstered sofa in the shape of a chair that is long enough to support the legs.
The architect Le Corbusier designed a Chaise Longue, which he called the Grand Confort, that has become a classic item.
In modern Varisian the term chaise longue can refer to any long reclining chair such as a deckchair. A literal translation in Taldan is "long chair". In Taldor, the term lounge chair is also used to refer to any long reclining chair. Chaise longue is sometimes incorrectly written as "chaise lounge". (Stolen and modified from Wikipedia.) "Oh yes, would you look at that fine piece of architecture over there... What? Oh, yes I am hungry too I suppose..."

Arithat looks at Elysia and smiles. "I am glad you think so."

Sense Motive vs. DC 15: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (18) - 1 = 17 Success
Knowledge (engineering) vs. DC 10: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22 Success
Perception vs. DC 25: Auto-fail

Bendy stiffens and looks around casually. "I feel it too," he murmurs. "Eyes on us. I'll see what I can see from below." Using his larger companions as cover, he makes a beeline for the rope tying the boat to the dock and climbs down it.

Bluff (to not be obvious about looking around): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
Stealth (to get down onto the boat unseen): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22
Perception (to see from below, darkvision 60'): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Can't make the other two skill checks.

Khale glances around to see if he can spot anybody watching them as he follows Bendaxalon.

Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (9) + 0 = 9

Elysia has seen no one of interest. So she looks around, still sees no one and asks "Shall we press on? We need to get inside quickly, if peril is about."

We have had some rather funny posts, haven't we? It makes reading what everyone has said and done a treat. :)

Trig looks back at the fishermen and kids. "I'll check the other side of the building. Maybe there's a less public entrance."

Trig walks nonchalantly to the building's corner and examines the far side.

Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

The front entrance is the only one you can spot easily, Trig. Walking down the pier quite a while allows you to see the loading entrance, open to the water for easy docking by boats and so forth. The front entrance is locked, but you can't see any sort of locking mechanism on the loading door. It looks like it would slide open, although you'd have to balance pretty precariously on the small ledge in front of the doors to do so.

Khale, you can't see anyone following you, and the fishermen along the pier pay you no heed. Both you and Bendaxalon are able to get into the rowboat without difficulty. There are oars inside if you'd like to take it exploring somewhere!

Elysia follows Trig, at a distance.

Li doesn't care if he's obvious or not. He starts actively looking for the person or thing he believes is watching him. He looks around at any people, behind crates, inside barrels, etc.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

Li doesn't find any trace of whoever it was that was watching him before; either they are quite the ninja, or they have moved on for now. He does, however, discover a hidden key sits sandwiched between two rickety slats on the building near the doorframe. It looks like it will unlock the warehouse door.

Li shows the key to his compatriots and tries it in the front door, opening it.

Darkness fills the warehouse, the ambient light from outside blocked by a filthy, oily film on the structure's few windows. Darting illumination comes from light reflecting off the water through a splintered hole in the floor. (Treat the inside as dim light, although I'm sure you guys will make it normal light shortly :)

Throughout the warehouse, crates, boxes, and barrels lean against each other in vaguely sorted stacks. A lingering smell indicates some of
the contents are certainly spoiled. Perched in the middle of the hole, teetering on split planks, sits a large crate stamped with three crows arranged in a triangle--no doubt the very crate you've come to find. Handholds cut into the stout wooden crate ring the rim.

Other barrels, boxes, and crates sit stacked along the walls of the warehouse. Just inside the door sits a handful of crates and kegs of beer. Most of these smaller crates and barrels contain foodstuffs in various states of freshness. Some crates reek of rot.

Stacks of simple coffins sit against the east wall. The rest of the crates stacked along the north and south walls contain simple sundries and miscellaneous goods, including beer, blocks of clay, coffee, coils of rope, dried fish, lead ingots, nails, nets, raw cotton, rough wool, spare sails, timber planks, various pulleys and tools, cheap weapons, and plenty more.

A crane, used for loading and unloading boats, clings to a rail running the length of the warehouse, hanging 5 feet below the high ceiling. The loading door appears to be barred from the inside, although you could easily lift the planks of wood sealing it from this end and slide the doors open should you need to go out that way.

Map

To be clear, the box you want is that one sitting out in the bottom right.

Elysia sends Poe to scout the inside of the warehouse.

Perception, Elysia 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
Perception, Poe 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18

Poe and Elysia can report basically what they noticed from the outset (i.e., what's written above).

Trig muses, "What idiots left the crate out there? Should we use the crane to haul it onto solid footing before opening it?"

"That's probably a good idea. The way it's placed suggests that it may be rigged to fall or even be trapped. It looks like bait."

Noticing that the rest of the group has decided to simply unlock the door, Khale smiles at his gnome friend, then gets out of the boat and follows the others inside. "Let's be quick about this, I am uneasy about this mission." he says with a frown.

Walking inside, Khale focuses on the coffins and sweeps across the interior attempting to detect any who may have evil intent.

Move diagonally NE 3 squares into the warehouse then detect evil from that position.

Nothing detects as evil, and nothing detects as magical either, if (when) the spell should be cast.

"What if we moved the boat underneath the hole first? Then, if the crane should fail, we have a back up plan."

Khale shrugs, "Sounds good to me, should I do it?" he asks Arithas.

"If it falls, the crate's as likely to punch a hole in the boat as the boat is to hold it up. I'd say let's hurry with the crane."

Trig looks around for the ropes that position the crane and begins dragging it toward the hole and crate. "One of us can ride the hook out to the crate."

I guess that assumes that there's lifting eyes or some such on the crate. Alice?

There's nothing that would allow you to directly connect the crane and the crate, but you might be able to improvise something. The handles are more so a human could carry it.