[PFS][Level 3-5] DM Ranginui runs The Midnight Mirror (Inactive)

Game Master Tangaroa

As the group gathers and Leastrie asks about visitn gthe Chandler, Chuurock nods. "It seems the best place to visit, though I am uncertain if what we would find at night will be there during the day."

"Yes, yes, but the chandler's our next best choice. Let's check it out now before things get any worse."

*coughs*

"Blasted throat's getting sore now. Must have caught a draft."

"A draft? Really? Town is overwhelmed with a plague that afflicts the throat, and your first thought is a simple cold? Someone bought a disease curative, didn't you?"

Baldwyn makes a point to slide himself and how breakfast away from Gil. "Whatever we do, we'd better do it quickly. I don't wanna get sick off this crap, too."

-Posted with Wayfinder

"Well now Chuurock, there's no reason to alarm everyone. Could be this tallowthroat, I suppose. Better safe than sorry, wot? I'll pop over to the temple and procure a curative at once. Perhaps from there we can investigate things a bit more, then head over to that chandler's shop at dusk or so."

I have to get into the routine of casting False Life daily, too, do ho ho. Maybe later, unless we're doing something fight-y sounding first. It'll DEFINITELY get cast before we visit the chandler.

Kris speaks as quietly as possible, hoping to not garner rumors about town with the Innkeeper. "I'm actually curious about something, if this IS what we believe it is. If you could follow me up to my room, I want to see just how my abilities function against the disease..."

Baldwyn cocks an eyebrow at Guilford before they leave to Kris' room for gods-know-what. "If the temple has a hard enough time curing people of it here, what makes you think they can cure you? It may not be this tallowthroat, but if it looks like a duck and sounds like a duck..."

Shandor adds bluntly "You are most certainly doomed with that affliction, though the Garundi will probably be able to keep you alive for some time. My powers are irrelevant to this kind of situation, hence I cannot help you."

A spell check for the Arcane types

KN: arcana: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

Leastrie watches his companions, waiting for a consensus.

Guilford accepts Kris' proposal and allows her to examine his throat.

Knowledge Arcana: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

Kris comes back down and shakes her head, speaking quietly as before. "No use, though I suspected as much." She sits back down, having already finished eating. "What is our next move?"

"We need to check out the chandler and find a wayward lover, yes? Or are we looking for two different lovers? I've forgotten."

With a shake of his head, "I can't hardly keep track anymore. Lost lover first while it's bright out?"

Guilford wanders back from the temple, looking rather the worse for wear.

"Well chaps, priest says I'll be better, but I'm still a bit out of sorts. Blasted Kuthite surgery's rather unpleasant. Let's look after this lost lover - if we can take things a bit easy for a few hours I'd be grateful."

"Don't expect to be off the hook so easily, Guilford. Be wary of any signs of remaining malignant activity within your throat. You never know. As for our next destination, we could go and look for the missing lover. We can also visit the manor more extensively before it gets dark... I mean darker."

Leastrie wanders around, trying to garner some information.

Leastrie's search for information is frustrating at first. Few of the human populace will speak to the imposing, educated Elf.

After a half day of searching, his hope for finding an answer fading, he hears a call from across the river Dinar's Way - from Shade Row. An elderly Fetchling, a thin woman with crow's feet around her eyes is the source of the voice. She sits a log, watching the elf.

"I've seen you cross back and forth four times Ser. If you tell me what your looking for maybe I can help you find it." Her voice has the slightest hint of amusement.

"If we're going to spend time at the Chandler's after dark, we should plan on an early afternoon nap."

Leastrie smiles at the old woman and walks over to her. "I hope I provided some amusement for you while you watched me get my exercise for the day." Squatting down on his haunches he looks at the woman. "I am looking for information on the baker's wife wife and her lover. Where I might find them to be exact." Smiling again and giving her a knowing look, he says. "I bet your sharp eyes don't miss much of the doings on the this town. Can you help me with my errand?"

"Amusing? Oh no dear, I wasn't laughing at your troubles, just trying to divine the nature of them. And my eyes aren't as sharp as they used to be, but I still hear plenty of things."

She rises and does a flourish followed by a neat handspring onto her feet - incredibly wry for someone of her advanced age. She bows, theatrically. "And I still haven't lost my talents" she laughs. "You may call me Ionela Zagrev, former acrobat extraordinare in the traveling freak show and current 'mayor' of shade row."

She sits back down, bones popping loudly. "As to lovers, well I can certainly help you my dear. The question is should I? But... you and your fellows seem like good-hearted folk - you did help Sergei and his kin in their hour of need. Maybe elves are just beyond fearing my kind." She laughs again.

She grows contemplative. "Let me tell you a secret, something that can get a Kayal killed. He's a good Kayal, so I ask that you keep his secret safe. He goes by the name of Gavril, and is in pretty good with the lord of the manor; raises the dogs for his Lordship. Gavril met a nice girl some time ago, and fell in love with her. Well, perhaps it was a baser emotion then love. Only thing is, she isn't Kayal, and she is married. Of course, Gavril thought he was being sneaky about the whole affair, but like you said, I have good eyes. "

"Relationships like that do not go over well with folk in this town; one is liable to get strung up over such things. They've got a long history of bad blood with my kind, going back centuries. I do what I can to keep the peace, but it is not easy sometimes. Especially not with folk like Gavril." She sighs.

Leastrie nods thoughtfully, his brows furrowing a bit. I think I know of this man you speak. Thank you ever so much for the information. Before I take my leave, I wonder if you have any thoughts about this Tallowthroat that is harrying the town?"

"I'm glad we're immune to it, but many of my human friends have died from it. It's killing our community; due to the fear of infection, we can't get to town to buy what we need except through sneaking and stealing, which is no way to live."

"Do I know what caused it? No. Shadows have been stronger here then anywhere else. Something about Karpad. The human women here birth Kayal sometimes; that doesn't happen anywhere else I've ever been to in Cheliax or Nidal. A wizard told me once Kayal are only born on the Shadow Plane. Called me a liar when I told him otherwise! Maybe the same thing about this place that makes Kayal makes that disease. Wish I could help more."

Leastrie nods. "Thank you for taking pity on me and helping an elf out." he says wit a smile. "Is there anything in town I could bring back to you in repayment?"

After finishing with the woman, Leastrie heads back across the river to find his companions and inform them of what he has learned.

"Most interesting. Do you think a visit back to the manor could be worth it?"

"If possible, helpping find a way to help stop the disease would make me a happy old Kayal" Ionela the Fetchling says kindly as the woman leaves.

Leastrie returns late in the afternoon, while Guilford's pallor after his visit to the Kuthonite only slowly fades away. With night rapidly approaching the Pathfinders find no time to make another visit to the Boroi manor before darkness falls.

Making their way to the chandlery storefront the six can see the bright flickering of candles inside. Baldwyn knocks loudly at the front door, but there is no answer. The door, however, does not appear to be locked for the night.

Peering in through the window, Shandor can see a large waxen man stands motionless among the many flickering candles.

K(arcana) if you would

Guilford creeps up to the window and tries to discern what he can about the figure inside.

Leastrie peers over Shandor's and Guilford's shoulders, but can't get a good look into the window.

Guilford knows the figure to be a wax golem, immune to all magic save those spells which call upon fire. Fire will also slows the beast as it melts the form, while any spell wielding cold heals the beast. Some wax golems are a rumored to gain a false sentience after enough time, imitating the lifestyles of those around them.

"Be wary of this place. It reeks of danger and deception."

Shandor comes to much the same conclusions as Guilford.

"What should we do about that wax golem Shandor? I've got one fire spell prepared. Whether hostile or not, I think we'd best be prepared. Shall we go inside?"

"Fire to use against it?" Chuurock looks around at the firepits in the street. "Brands should be easy enough to come by. We could use old-fashioned physical fire as opposed to magical fire."

Baldwyn grabs his loaned +1 hammer. "We could just beat it 'till it stops moving." He then motions to any bows the party carries. "And then shoot it. And then... has it got anything sensitive to step on?"

"Right Baldwyn. Weapons should work, although it might be able to take a good thrashing. I'll have my bow out and loaded in any case. I can always free a hand to cast if needed. Shall we investigate? I'll get the door if one of you sturdy types would be willing to lead the way."

Neither Guilford or Shandor recall wax golems being particularly resilient against physical damage, as other golems are. Brands are difficult to find at this time of night, but the streets are littered with burning torches.

"You want me to just barge in? I'm good for it! Dunno if you all wanted to... talk to it? Seems to be all we're doin' in this town."

In this case, a burning piece of wood from one of the fires is what I meant by a brand. Not a piece of metal intended to burn flesh in order to leave a mark. Olde English usage according to dictionary.com.

Chuurock will happily grab one of the available torches, thinking that ti is likely to do better than his dagger would. "Would a wax creature be more resistant to piercing or slicing?"

"I can summon a cone of flames, though I'll need every one of you not to stand in the way - it's hardly a selective spell. Though maybe the golem will not animate, but I don't trust "maybes"."

"'Maybe' and 'should', my two least favourite words... So let's head in and say hello. Then spray that thing with fire if it tries anything. Ready?"

Leastrie nods in acknowledgement. "Ready"

Guilford opens the door, and the waxen beast noiselessly starts to move aggressively, if slowly, towards the Pathfinders. Candles flicker from the wall, and shadows play over the combatants as time slows for them.

Shandor enters the chandlery first and utters words of ancient power, summoning a burst of flames reaching the wax golem. The Thassilonian runes on his body flare to life, turning bright red as fire surges forth from the sorcerer's hands.

"Uth nar rhamon vask Athil'akr!"

A large portion of the creature turns to molten wax under the assault of the orc-blooded sorcerer, and the beast slows its movements under the waxy morass.