Every year, the Grand Lodge hosts the Grand Convocation at its campus in Absalom. While the Grand Convocation is ostensibly not a party, it is an opportunity for the Decemvirate and Absalom’s resident venture-captains to express their gratitude to field agents and those venture-captains stationed abroad. The Grand Convocation also serves the practical purpose of encouraging networking, relationships, and shared intra-Society communication. The Ten are well aware that some interaction between field agents will only ever occur informally, hence the festivities serve to provide an excuse for agents across the Inner Sea to meet and mingle, if only for a week. The capstone event is a banquet with remarks from Marcos Farabellus, the Master of Swords, who will touch on the Society’s many successes from the last year and give a hitherto unrevealed announcement concerning the Sky Key.
As you make you way into the festivities, Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus strides up to the large crowd and claps his hands together for attention. “Welcome Pathfinders, one and all! And welcome to our traveling venture-captains stationed abroad as well our honored guests! I am Marcos Farabellus, and on behalf of the Decemvirate, I welcome you to the Pathfinder Society’s annual Grand Convocation! I shall address all of the attendees later this afternoon to announce some of the Society’s greatest accomplishments over the past year and our plans for the future. In the meantime, I invite you to stroll about the campus, meet with your peers, and enjoy all the sites of the Grand Lodge. We have set up numerous challenges and contests so that you can show off your skills or sharpen them if need be. I’ll send around ushers when it’s time to assemble for the speeches on the north lawn. Enjoy!"
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In walks a large blond man holding a shield and talking to his sword. He puts the sword away when he meets everyone. He is dressed in full plate and what appear to be tribal tattoos of butterfly wings in woad come up his neck.
"Hello, I Jan. Traveling priest of Desna. I here to prove Desna strong and act as shield in front of danger for friends. Is first time at Grand Convocation, but have spent longer time here, Jan just finish clean up old Desna temple over there. I hope we have much fun before Desna have me travel again."
If anyone pray with me Desna may be able to bring us luck and guide us to where we need to be. Is simple, just dance how you feel, stop when you want, and think about dance. Easy, no?
At that Jan will break into what can only be described as a goofy dance for about a minute watching to see who else prays.
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Tall and broad shouldered Farg is rather imposing, his massive tusks and oddly shaped horns as well as the dark sheen of fur that covers his face and body indicate his orcish and fiendish heritage. He enters right after Jan with broad steps and an air supreme confidence.
Some pray for luck, others are born lucky! My name is farg and luck has always been on my side!
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Also of broad stature, Thrash would be imposing were it not for his lopsided smile, large felt top-hat, and unassuming posture. He is currently holding a Dartboard set and a deck of cards, and has fetched a mini-keg of beer for the table. He smells like he's been travelling in the company of donkeys.
Howdy folks. Name's Thrash Alpenstock. I like to collect things, and travellin'. As you can probably tell from my armor, I'm a Paladin of Pabadar...err...Abadin da Abadar...Pala...daba...dabadar. Dammit, I'm no good at tongue-twisters! I smite things that Abadar don't like! I'm from Lastwall originally, and I learned a few tricks up there. I can teach y'all the ole' Lastwall Phalanx at the drop of a hat. Not that I'll be dropping my hat. Happen to like this hat. Anyhow, who wants to play some darts?
He will at some point take the time to "Do the Desnan", but clearly has no great skill at dancing.
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Tall for a Half-Elf but slender, with hair of silver and eyes an icy-blue, a young man with a wry smile, dressed in dark blues with hints of black and white approaches the gathered Pathfinders.
"Ένας φίλος είναι απλά ένας εχθρός που να μην αποκαλύψει ακόμα τον εαυτό του,"
"And so I bid you greetings and fair tidings, my fellow Pathfinders. I am known as Star Chaser, from lands far to the north of any nation of Avistan, here to learn from the Society, and lend it what mystical aid I can."
He leans a bit on his quarterstaff wrought to appear as twin serpents entwined as one, his only apparent armament.
"Desna holds an honored place among my people and I would be honored to pray with you, fair warrior-priest. As for games...well - in affairs of fair tongue I do revel - for the boldness of action, I shall perhaps best aid by cheering you on."
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"Aye, my first Convocation, too," adds a fair-haired woman in a fur-lined cloak, standing from where she had been seated on the grass. A pair of daggers grace her slender hips, and her hands sit on the hilts absentmindedly. "I am called Idgethun the Silent. Some call me Odd, for short. A pleasure to meet your acquaintances."
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"Oh, oh, oh!" exclaims a high-pitched voice. Its bearer is a gnome, mounted atop a fluffy dog and trailed by a huge grizzly that turns its head this way and that as if on constant guard. With a big smile to the group, the gnome slides off her mount and hurries up beside the dancing blond man. "I'll dance with you, Mister Jan! Are we allowed to talk while we dance? I was never very good at dancing back at home in Whistledown, but you don't have to be the best fish-carver in the village to enjoy sushi, my aunt always said!"
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Star Chaser smiles in greeting to all who join the group, and chuckles at Thrash as he retrieves the horseshoes. Reaching into his pack, he produces a slender wand, and offers it forth.
"In all things, luck can sometimes make the difference between something amazing and something...regrettable. If you would each like a touch of that luck for the day, I am happy to provide..."
OOC:
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Farg scratches his head as he studies the odd half orc before him. In the tribe he grew up this one likely would have been skewered and fed to hyenas in praise of Lamshtu. Maybe that's why he ended up a Pathfinder instead...
Playing children's games and dancing isn't exactly my definition of living...I'm more fond of fine wine and bed slaves...
After the six of you have introduced yourselves and the game has begun, two men walk toward you smiling. Based on their features, you'd guess the men were brothers. Both men are particularly handsome, dashing even as they tread with an obvious sailors gait.
Both smile as they near.....
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The man named Jocephus effects a low bow, lifting his tricorn from his head, then elbows his brother good naturedly. "Pleasure to make ya'lls acquaintances! Have you been here long? Have we missed anything! Damn harbormaster is overwhelmed with all the ships coming into port. Took neigh half the morning to get the harbor pilot out to our ship!"
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Johender nods in agreement with Jocephus, then says. "Watch y'all playing at? I hear tell there supposed to be some competitions somewhere around here. Have you heard anything?"
As Johender speaks, a small monkey scampers up his leg and onto his shoulder, then begins chittering in his ear. The sailor smiles and gives everyone an exaggerated expression of embarrassment. "Oh dear! Where are me manners!? It appears I neglected to introduce me first mate, Schooner. Schooner, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Schooner." The small monkey smacks the man on the head in remonstrance, then deftly scales Johender's side, reaches into a belt pouch, and removes three nuts. Scampering back onto his perch on Joh's shoulder, the monkey begins shelling the nuts, eating the nutmeat while throwing the shells at Jocephus.
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After a smile at the corners of his mouth in response to Zirt's question, to which he replies,
"Ακριβώς ένα τυπικό χαιρετισμό , αγαπητέ μου."
Farg's comments, as well as the arrival of others, causes him to put away the wand and brush a silver lock aside to observe the newcomers. He appears slightly confused at first at the patois of their speech, but does seems keenly interested in it.
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Jocephus shakes his head and lets out a low whistle. "Well, I've heard there are competitions set up all over the grounds here at the Lodge. Some bloke mentioned it as we we're walkin' in. Spose'd to be all kinds of contests. Just 'bout any skill a Field Agent might need in the field, there's a contest for it! Not sure about the prizes, but a contest wouldn't be a contest without prizes, right'o?"
Smacking his brother on the back, he says. "Come on brother, we should go try to find 'em. You guys coming?" He finishes, asking everyone around.
As you begin strolling across the grounds, indeed, you find what the brothers said is true. In just about every direction you look, you find Pathfinders engaged in different games of skill.
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"Brothers, a pleasure," murmurs Idgethun. Taking a program from the stack held by a bored-looking initiate nearby, she scans it quickly. "Hmm, this panel on the Cultural Significance of Death in Nomads of the Garundi Desert looks interesting. Perhaps a thing or two to learn!" A heretofore unheard hint of excitement creeps into her voice.
Though her hand scribbles quickly in her journal as she takes notes on the celebratory funereal rituals of ancient Jistka hypothesized by one scholar, Odd keeps her thoughts and opinions on the matter mostly to herself.
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Nice to meet you both. I Jan. Like to see any but maybe do lore symposium and weights. Competition good.
Seeing Thrash trying to carry every thing and set up a pulley system.
Why so complicated, simple lifting, no?
Then Jan will go try and lift some weight himself, with a grunt he benchpresses as much weight as he can.
Wipes a single bead of sweat from his brow and smiles at Thrash.
See?
As for the Lore symposium he tries in broken Common to describe how Desna is generally construed as a feminine god in the Ulfen lands and why that is wrong finishing up with his own views on her faith. Finishing up with
...not sure why butterfly. Maybe is symbol of many things, her feminine form and beauty, the way the flutter as the way paths move, a symbol of maybe hope or luck, something that can move in the night sky, and what can come out of change. Sad most only think of the girly part at least where I come from. Maybe is supposed to show that travels and symbols hard to understand but how you go and think it through is important, would be like Desna that way. I think Desna very strong, constant move, fight, travel, never settle, have many acquaintances but few friends. Is hard life, but also beautiful life.
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"Oh boy! This is sooooo exciting!" exclaims the gnome gleefully. "I want to try everything! Can I try everything, I wonder? Come on, Jadrek, let's go!"
The grizzly shakes his shaggy head slowly and backs away a few feet. "Aww Jadrek, what's wrong, big fellah?" asks the gnome with a frown. As if in response, the bear shifts his head and seems to scan the crowd. "Oh, it's your fea... I mean, you don't like crowds, is that it? It's okay, you just wait in that alley over there. Just stay out of sight, okay? Gregarious won't mind going with me."
The big bear ("Jadrek", apparently) gives a little grunt and backs up a few more steps, then turns and lumbers toward the indicated alley. Zirt gives him a fond smile before turning and leading her mount off toward the games.
Avid storyteller (and listener) that she is, Zirt can't stay away from the storytelling competition. Producing a fine pair of spoons from her pack, the gnome beats time as she launches into a colorful retelling of The Tale of Mighty Hath's Water Basket. Unfortunately for her, her audience is less than well-versed in the lore surrounding the incident, and their appreciation of her telling shows it. Still, she bows graciously and smiles at them before moving on to the next event.
It doesn't go very well. She begins by examining the "traps", but decides that it would be more fun to make a trap of her own, so she picks a likely-looking receptacle and sets to work. Unfortunately, her spell backfires, turning her hair a brilliant shade of pink for a few minutes! Laughing good-naturedly with the others, she moves on to the next booth.
"Oh boy!" she squeals quietly to the big dog beside her as the pair approach the animal taming area. "You'll probably have to stay on the side, but you can cheer me on!" Pulling out her spoons again, she launches into the same tale as before, but this time in the language of animals! Her taming targets appreciate the story more than the humanoid audience did, and she's soon beaming as she strokes her new friends' furry heads.
Daydreaming about her success with the animals, Zirt doesn't pay very much attention to the "crime scene"; she does notice that the inside of the blindfold has a small stain on it...
Finally, Zirt and Gregarious make their way to the panel, where Zirt discusses at some length the truth and myth behind the historical Uknath the Ape, Terror of the South Hollows.
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Regardless of how well (or not) she does, Star Chaser cheers Zirt on at all of her tasks, highly amused by her enthusiasm.
For some strange reason, despite not being the most physical or agile of the party, he decides to give the Obstacle Course a try. "You only live once, as they say...right?"
And then, mumbled weakly with his face in the mud only moments later. "...well...that was different."
Afterward, Star Chaser excitedly joins Jan in the symposium, sharing how belief in a single god or goddess seems to be less popular the closer to the Crown of the World, especially among the Snowcaster Elves...
(+3 for check involving Elven culture)
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Zirt giggles at Star Chaser's attempt at the obstacle course, though her own is little better. With a smile she offers to clean off the mud, "unless you want to leave it, you know, so that people know you tried and everything. My uncle always said that it's better to try than... um... not to try! At least, I think that's what he said. He wasn't very articulate, you see. He had a run-in with a very ugly and very big spider when he was out collecting snurflikor root one time, and he was never the same... poor uncle. Did you know that snurflikor root is good for rashes sometimes? You have to be very careful with it, though. Do you have snurflikor root where you come from?"
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By the encumbrance rules, Thrash can lift up to 920 lbs. over his head. If a Strength check is required:
Thrash crushes some chalk he has in his pocket and powders his hands for better grip. He does a bit of stretching to limber up before squatting for a dead lift, keeping his back straight and lifting from the knees.
While generally gregarious, Thrash is a bit nervous with public speaking. Nevertheless, when he hits his stride speaking about visible flaws in steel shields, his voice stops quavering and he manages to get through most of the information he wanted to cover.
Using a signal whistle to encourage the beast he is assigned, Thrash attempts to have it fetch and roll over for the crowd.
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Farg came from second story artist to Explorer ancient Runes so it comes as little surprise that his first show of skill is with locks. As always the pompous Tiefling shows up with plenty of Swagger and asks for the toughest lock on display and with supreme confidence disbands it with his actually not so delicate looking claws.
Afterwards Farg feels in the mood for some intelectual refreshment and joins the plenary here he whips up a half hour monologue about the racial and ethnic origins of Half Orcs throughout the Inner Sea in which he traces back lines of ancestry and naming over the last 500 years.
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Once everyone begins examining the myriad of contests, each steps forward at one or another to test themselves in the selected fields of interest.
Idgethun joins a panel called Cultural Significance of Death in Nomads of the Garundi Desert, but once the discussion starts, she finds that the subject is misleading and concerns nomads from the time of the Jistka Imperium, while her knowledge concerns more contemporary tribes. Despite putting forth a good effort, Idgethun finds herself outclassed by an archivist from Sothis.
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Jan spies a contest of strength and quickly makes his way over to the crowd of would-be contestants. On his turn, Jan lays back on a sort of wooden trestle bench. Then two agents carry over a steel pool on which lead ingots have been hung. Poising the pole over the Ulfen's chest, Jan has to reach up, grab the pole, lower it to his chest, then raise it to the full extension of his arms. As more ingots are added in each successive round, Jan narrowly beats a hulking Kellid woman from the Mammoth Realms!
Brought to a small podium, Jan is presented with a small metal pin fashioned in the shape of dire bear.
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Zirt, being the gnome she is, finds all sights, sounds, and contests to tempting to pass up, deciding to try her hand at nearly everything. With her personal menagerie in tow, Zirt first makes her way to the storytelling contest. Brimming with stories, Zirt begins a sort of rhythm based interpretive performance based tale spinning, but finds the audience and judging panel too conventional to understand the cutting edge, likely soon to be all the rage, beat poetry.
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Star Chaser strolls among the contests and eventually decides to personally challenge himself by entering the obstacle course competition. Approaching the starting line, the elf nods his readiness to the race starter, as he gets down in a sprinter's crouch. As the race official turns over a sand-filled hourglass and rings a brass bell signalling the start, Star Chaser dashes down the course. The first obstacle, a set of a manicured hedges, is easily leaped by the elf, but the second, scurrying across a narrow board suspended above a mud-filled pool, proves to be Star Chaser's downfall as the elf begins losing his balance, overcompensates, then somersaults over and falls into the mud!
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Thrash follows after Jan and joins the contests of strength. Choosing a challenge of dead lifting iron spheres, the half-orc does well, but alas, eventually is beat out by a tall, lanky Garundi agent.
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Farg strolls over to trap mastery competition, surveys the assembled challenges, and enters the contest. The tiefling finds the traps and locks to be almost child's play as he quickly blows through the ranks and with minimal effort, picks open the hardest lock. Accompanied by a smattering of applause, Farg receives a small, brass pin fashioned in the shape of a padlock.
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Watching Jan and Thrash participate in the strength contest, Jocephus slaps the Ulfen on the back, and offers a mug of ale. "Well done! Well done!" To Thrash, he says. "You almost had it. The Garundi bloke beat you by a mere couple pounds, I think."
Laughing and congratulating the two men, Jocephus says. "While I was watching you two, I was chatting with an agent from Andoran. He was telling me that Arliss Hall is full to the brim with visiting venture-captains from abroad. The building is rumored to mysteriously change its internal layout. The increased comings and goings have prompted it to do so with even greater regularity and many venture-captains have become lost themselves, wandering the hallways!" Slapping his thigh, he begins laughing again. "Can't you just picture it, a bunch of venture-captains wandering around lost! I bet the wee hours are hilarious. Dem cap'ns waking up to relieve themselves, getting turned around, and just walking around in their night cloths as if lost at sea!"
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Johender ambles over and watches Farg deftly win his contest, and lets out a low whistle as the tiefling is awarded. "Not bad...not bad. I know me way around locks as well, so I can spot a ringer when I sees one!" Bending over to examine the pin, Joh says. "You know, I've heard the halls of the Quadrangle have not been so full in many years. I guess the Society’s success at Nerosyan and that sky citadel Jormurdun has captured the imaginations of a whoppin' big new crop of Pathfinders. There's more greenhorns around here than I've ever seen!"
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Despite only a couple successes at the games, everyone tries their hand at other competitions.
Jan strolls over to the lore symposium and enters the contest. Despite some language barriers, the Ulfen starts off good as he begins speaking about the Ulfen view of the goddess Desna and her aspects in the northern climes, but begins to lose the thread of his dissertation as he delves into more local, esoteric areas. When he starts talking about butterflies flapping their wings in Irrisen causing snowstorms in Taldor, he has lost the judging panel and unfortunately the competition as well.
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Over at the trap mastery competition, Zirt, tries her gnomish hand at the activities, but it doesn't go very well. She begins by examining the "traps", but decides that it would be more fun to make a trap of her own, so she picks a likely-looking receptacle and sets to work. Unfortunately, her spell backfires, turning her hair a brilliant shade of pink for a few minutes! The she finds herself nearly snapped up in a large bear trap as her focus is drawn away by some passing animal companion that she has never seen before. Luckily, staff at the contest are able to extricate Zirt before she could suffer any wounds. Laughing it off as only a gnome could, Zirt makes her way to another competition.
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Star Chaser takes a few moments to wipe the majority of the mud off then moves on to the lore symposium. Nodding at Jan as he exits, Star Chaser sit down and begins a lecture comparing the prevalence of monotheistic versus polytheistic faiths based on geoclimatic situation with special emphasis on the elven tribes of nothern Avistan. Clearly impressing the judging panel, even if a lot of it was above their heads, Star Chaser is awarded a small, silver pin fashioned in the shape of an open tome.
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After his loss at the strength competition, Thrash makes his way over to the lore symposium. Stepping into the ring, Thrash begins a an educational demonstration he titles A new and portable way to lift heavy objects from a stationary position with the aid of items commonly carried by Field Agents. The half-orc then goes to on demonstrate various ways of using a block and tackle, and a traveler's anytool to illustrate different situations that agents could find themselves in, and how the simple use of leverage and pulleys can accomplish more than brute strength. The judges nod in approval and award the half-orc a small, silver pin fashioned in the shape of an open tome.
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Farg find both Star Chaser and Thrash, as he strolls over to the symposium, which some agents have begun to call Destination Imagination. Making himself comfortable, the tiefling launches into a long, prosaic recitation of half-orc ancestry and various lines of linage. Once the nodding judges are awakened, they all confer with each other, then award Farg a small, silver pin fashioned in the shape of an open tome.