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An empty chair across from your table suddenly collapses in a small explosion of kindling.
A voice, emanating from the once perfectly good chair and almost drowned out by the commotion, mutters "Ugh. John really needs to get better furniture." The accent with heavy emphasis on the first syllables, stabbing their way through the air.
The air shimmers as a very large humanoid shape fades into being. "Appologies for the inferior furniture. I am sure someone is paid to clean that up."
An extremely overweight elf sits floating in front of your table as if willing a chair that will support him. His skin, covered in tattoos and large leeches, overflowing what any reasonably sized person would call their personal space. A larger than normal area, considering the number of patrons tonight, has opened up around this man. He doesn't seem take notice.
"I do not believe you have had the privilege of working with me, though the fates have said that may change in the near future. My name is Angrid Luin."
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"Hail and well met, fellow Pathfinders", intones a human male of Mwangi descent as he limps into view of his fellow peers from an adjoining room.
Nodding to Luin and any others present, "I don't believe we've ever met before, Angrid Luin; I'm Zefnir, a Healer by trade from the Sargavan Coast, but lately have spent much more time among the various Lodges nowadays."
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"I don't believe so either" Angrid replies. "I do not spend too much time in Absolom. I prefer to spend my time at home in Ker Maga. Every now and then Pathfinders ask for my help. It's good break from my research."
"Speaking of, would you have an interest in donating to my research. You see, when not working for the society I am studying how to extract powers from specific blood lines." Marnarius then pulls out a large stack of parchment from his bag and sets it on the table with a thump.
"If your interested, you can read through this contract. It states all the specifics of my study." Eyeing the rest of the party, Angrid states "Oh and of course anyone else who may be interested."
Contract “Cliff Notes”
This document, between Angrid Luin, a resident of Ker Maga, and [YOU], entails a binding contract.
This contract entails the utilization of your donated blood for the sole purpose of arcane research and development regarding the acquisition of bloodline powers. Any and all other use is strictly prohibited and includes the use of the blood in binding, divination, as material support for negotiating with outsider. The list is long, extensive, and not inclusive.
This contract entails the means by which your blood will the kept safe and secure. It includes a clause requiring the use to utilize all methods available to them to keep your donated blood from falling into ANY other hands. It also entails the methods by which your blood will be de-identified so that you will not be specifically targeted if a breach occurs. At the completion of studies, any residual blood will be destroyed by fire and made utterly useless for any and all means.
This contract also details the methods of adjudication in the city of Ker Maga following a breach of contract by any party. Punishments entailed in the contract scale from the transfer of material wealth to death (with all material property and the deceased body being transferred to the other party in the dispute for disposal as they see fit) depending on the severity of the breach as adjudicated by third party.
The contract will expire 5 years following the complete utilization and/or destruction of residual blood. At which point Angrid Luin is no longer liable. The contract cannot be terminated early. Upon contract expiration, the contract will be ceremoniously burned. Signee holds the right to be present at destruction of contract.
Attached to the last page of this contract is a donator survey. It entails detailed questions regarding parentage and family lines in order to categorize the source of blood into aberration, chaotic evil outsider, arcane caster, good outsider, able to cast divination, of the dragon type, of the elemental or energy subtype, fey or gnome, lawful evil outsider, or undead but of flesh and blood.
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Omrax appears as a tall, fair haired knight of with obvious elven heritage. He removes his winged helm as he enters the room.
Under his red cloak, he wears a new suit of polished fullplate along with a shield bearing the crest of Iomedae on his arm.
His longsword is well kept and shows signs of recent battles.
Strapped to his back is a longbow and greatsword.
Sir Luin, Sir Zefnir...Omrax, at your service. It shall be my honor to participate on this mission with each of you.
Omrax smiles at the rotund elf but does not agree to any contract.
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"Well, can't hurt to ask. Your type almost always say no anyway. Too much negative association with blood and not enough trust in their fellow man. Can't blame you too much for that second part, though. Pathfinders in general learn not to trust what their told. Those that don't usually end up dead. Hence the large contractually obligating stacks of parchment."
Angrid slides the contract to his left and looks around for a waitress. Finding that they are all busy with various groups he decides on a different tactic.
"I am going to order some food. Would anyone else care to partake? The mutton is very good here."
He pulls out a smaller piece of parchment. He waits to see if anyone else at the table wishes to join him, then takes a quill and ink and writes out a food order that looks more like a contract to receive food and drink for payment than a list of menu items. He finishes it with a signature, holds the paper up, and addresses an empty space to his right. "Take this to the bartender, wait for our order, and then bring our order back to our table. And don't try to carry too much this time, I don't want to order again." A second later the paper begins to float its way through the room to the bartender.
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"I don't believe so either" Angrid replies. "I do not spend too much time in Absolom. I prefer to spend my time at home in Ker Maga. Every now and then Pathfinders ask for my help. It's good break from my research."
"Speaking of, would you have an interest in donating to my research. You see, when not working for the society I am studying how to extract powers from specific blood lines." Marnarius then pulls out a large stack of parchment from his bag and sets it on the table with a thump.
"If your interested, you can read through this contract. It states all the specifics of my study." Eyeing the rest of the party, Angrid states "Oh and of course anyone else who may be interested."
Taking the contract proffered by Angrid, Zefnir reads through what is written upon the scroll.
"An interesting proposal indeed, though I fear that I would have very little to contribute to your bloodline research; I am merely human after all and my abilities, such as they are, have been bestowed to me by the heavens itself- to what end, even I have no knowledge of. I suspect that such beings like Aasimars and Tieflings, as well as those well-versed in the arts of Sorcery, would yield more relevant and productive findings that you seek."
Handing back the scroll to Angrid, Zefnir adds, "Still, it is fascinating to see that you call upon both Abadar and Asmodeus as "witnesses" of a sort in your contract. Would it be fair to say that you have venerated both of these gods before?"
Omrax appears as a tall, fair haired knight of with obvious elven heritage. He removes his winged helm as he enters the room.
Under his red cloak, he wears a new suit of polished fullplate along with a shield bearing the crest of Iomedae on his arm.
His longsword is well kept and shows signs of recent battles.
Strapped to his back is a longbow and greatsword.Sir Luin, Sir Zefnir...Omrax, at your service. It shall be my honor to participate on this mission with each of you.
"Well met, Sir Omrax. It is a pleasure to meet you as well.", Zefnir addresses to the Holy Warrior with an informal bow.
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Angrid looks to Zefnir with a diplomatic smile and says "Oh heavens no. Nothing so devout as that. Just the standard politics of Kaer Maga. In a city where anything can be bought and sold someone is always willing to sell justice. If anything, I am more a follower of Nethys, though some would say one side of his aspect more than the other.
Angrid then skews the conversation back to a more comfortable academic footing. "As for the research, I am still in the early stages. Trying to catalog which particular characteristics have the ability to yield blood capable of inferring powers and which don't. I have found that the blood of those you mention does hold some power. However, on occasion I have found hints that those with divine magic can sometimes have it too. My hunch is that it has something to do with divination magic."
A large, 5 inch, leech on Angrid's left should begins to squirm uncomfortably. "Excuse me. A necessity of my choices." Angrid then removes the leech from his shoulder and places it on a fresh patch of skin that looks slightly more bloated that the surrounding tissue.
"Enough of me. I wish to know more about those I may be in difficult situation with. What do you fine gentleman do?"
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Angrid looks to Zefnir with a diplomatic smile and says "Oh heavens no. Nothing so devout as that. Just the standard politics of Kaer Maga. In a city where anything can be bought and sold someone is always willing to sell justice. If anything, I am more a follower of Nethys, though some would say one side of his aspect more than the other.
"Ah, very understandable; it was merely just curiosity on my part- as one who equally venerates several deities myself, among them Sarenrae, Desna, Pharasma, and even Erastil, it would seem that those who would worship singly among all of the gods present, like yourself and Sir Omrax, I've met far more often than not. No disrespect intended, of course."
Angrid then skews the conversation back to a more comfortable academic footing. "As for the research, I am still in the early stages. Trying to catalog which particular characteristics have the ability to yield blood capable of inferring powers and which don't. I have found that the blood of those you mention does hold some power. However, on occasion I have found hints that those with divine magic can sometimes have it too. My hunch is that it has something to do with divination magic."
"Divination magic, you say? That would make for an intriguing possibility. Often times, in my own experience among those of us who have that spark of the divine guiding them, there is always the ever-present unspoken requirement of adherence towards any particular set of creed that invariably must be followed lest the poor unfortunate lose access to that very spark, again depending upon the temperament of the god or goddess being worshiped; An additional condition that might make such research far more complicated, at least in my own, albeit limited, viewpoint."
"Enough of me. I wish to know more about those I may be in difficult situation with. What do you fine gentleman do?"
"Apart from assisting within the various local temples of Sarenrae, Desna, Pharasma, or Erastil, or Pathfinder duties? In the past, I've focused on such things as healing the wounded or attempting to comprehend the local cultures. Sometimes, I've even been able to facilitate some degree of parlaying but those attempts were usually highly dependent on the actions of those accompanying me. Lately, I've been trying to increase my more offensive based magical repertoire, as was requested by others in my last foray although I suppose I will always be a healer of wounds, at heart. I am also not very swift of foot myself, but having served as a member of the Sargavan Guard in the past and even as a captive Slave at one point, I am somewhat able to keep up with the pace, as needed."
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Omrax focuses on the words of Angrid and Zefnir, seeming now better able to concentrate on the moment at hand.
"Good sirs, I have given a firm oath to the Inheritor, Iomedae, to hunt that which is vile in the world and to do so with honor.
Otherwise, I have developed some skill at healing and diplomatic means, when appropriate."
With the last, he resigns to the side of the group and meditates upon the mission while holding a small silver longsword attached to a thin chain.
• I will learn the weight of my sword. Without my heart
to guide it, it is worthless—my strength is not in my
sword, but in my heart. If I lose my sword, I have lost a
tool. If I betray my heart, I have died.
• I will have faith in the Inheritor. I will channel her
strength through my body. I will shine in her legion,
and I will not tarnish her glory through base actions.
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Ah, I can always spot fellow Pathfinders! Hail, and well met!
A nondescript human strides over, fine bow slung on his shoulder and a Starknife hanging on a chain around his neck. There is also a scrawny, shady man, deeply cowled, following from a distance.
The Starlady's blessings be on you. Call me Val. I'm a Traveler for Desna, and have been a Pathfinder since...hells! Since they WERE Pathfinders! Looks like we have a nice, eclectic group here. I specialize in healing magic, as well as bolstering my allies in combat, and confounding my enemies. I only fall back on my bow when necessary.
He glances back at the robed and hooded man, who is lurking (that is, in fact, the correct word) nearby, and sighs. A Soothsayer who took to following me after a mission in the Hall of Drunken Heroes. He stays out of the way, but promises he can come in handy once in a while, so I let him follow me.
Val eyes Ormax. Your calling is noble, Paladin. I'll give you what support I can in your mission.
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Omrax focuses on the words of Angrid and Zefnir, seeming now better able to concentrate on the moment at hand.
"Good sirs, I have given a firm oath to the Inheritor, Iomedae, to hunt that which is vile in the world and to do so with honor.
Otherwise, I have developed some skill at healing and diplomatic means, when appropriate."With the last, he resigns to the side of the group and meditates upon the mission while holding a small silver longsword attached to a thin chain.
"Of course, Sir Omrax- and may you ever keep the vigilant light of the Inheritor with you.", Zefnir smiles and gives a nod to Omrax while respectfully giving some distance so that Omrax may perform what appears to Zefnir's eyes as silent ritual prayer of some sort.
Ah, I can always spot fellow Pathfinders! Hail, and well met!
A nondescript human strides over, fine bow slung on his shoulder and a Starknife hanging on a chain around his neck. There is also a scrawny, shady man, deeply cowled, following from a distance.
The Starlady's blessings be on you. Call me Val. I'm a Traveler for Desna, and have been a Pathfinder since...hells! Since they WERE Pathfinders! Looks like we have a nice, eclectic group here. I specialize in healing magic, as well as bolstering my allies in combat, and confounding my enemies. I only fall back on my bow when necessary.
He glances back at the robed and hooded man, who is lurking (that is, in fact, the correct word) nearby, and sighs. A Soothsayer who took to following me after a mission in the Hall of Drunken Heroes. He stays out of the way, but promises he can come in handy once in a while, so I let him follow me.
His attention now focused upon the new arrival, Zefnir smiles warmly back in greeting to Val and replies, "Hail and Well met, Val, fellow Traveler. I am Zefnir. Like yourself, I have some skill with healing and some familiarity with use of the bow... although my own travels, as it were, do cross many paths and many creeds. And of course, greetings to your follower as well". Zefnir gives a slight bow to the hooded lurker as well.
You arrive at Skyreach in Absalom. The five-towered fortress of Skyreach, visible from miles away over Absalom's skyline, is the heart of the Pathfinder Society. Here the Decemvirate rules and make its rare pronouncements beneath the enchanted skylights of the Great Hall in the central tower, and both resident and visitingPathfinders sequester themselves in cozy lounges to study, socialize, and plot future missions. Packed tight with chambers ranging from well-known ballrooms named after nations to innumerable trophy rooms and museums to rows of featureless doors identified only by number, Skyreach is a warren that only the Decemvirate understands completely.
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, 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!
A dashing man of mixed descent saunters up next to you. He is impeccably dressed from his gem-studded rapier to his gold earrings. "Name is Ka'atib. Haven't seen you guys before, and honestly I've never been to one of these before. Looks like there's lots to do. You guys should check out the games before the boring part starts.
Indeed, it appears this Ka'atib speaks the truth. There are a variety of games and attractions. The entire campus, inside and out, is full of them. It does seem like you have some time, so feel free to poke around!
Omrax draws chuckles from the crowd. A young Pathfinder initiate conjures a mewling kitten at his feet for a moment. The laughing is good natured, but attention quickly turns to a Hunter doing tricks with his bear.
Indeed the traps are rigged for embarrassment, not danger. Faeron though has the greatest of ease working through the rather simplistic
Score: Round 1 Update
Angrad: TBD
Val: TBD
Omrax: 0
Zefnir: TBD
Faeron: Trapspringing
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Embarrassed at his poor performance more than for the laughter, Omrax quickly finds the next venue and stands in line to prove to himself he can succeed.
Meditating prior to his next attempt.
• I will suffer death before dishonor.
• I will be temperate in my actions and moderate in my
behavior. I will strive to emulate Iomedae's perfection.
He enters the line for the storytelling.
"Once upon a time the great Pathfinder Society was formed and we are all members of this wonderful organization. The End."
He looks for applause and gets puzzled looks.
"Certainly you would not expect me to fabricate some details that are not entirely true? That would be dishonorable!"
Omrax gets one person clapping at least, he sees Ka'atib giving the Paladin his support. Unfortunately, Ka'atib is the only one.
Faeron makes his way over to the sleuthing area. His crime solving powers of observation are quite good. He holds his own with everyone except the professional investigators
Angrad: TBD
Val: TBD
Omrax: 0
Zefnir: TBD
Faeron: Trap-springing
Angrad: TBD
Val: TBD
Omrax: 0
Zefnir: TBD
Faeron: Sleuthing
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Angrid scoffs at some of the more physical events and decides to focus on the events that are more mental in nature. Floating through the crowd, he decides to try his hand at the sleuthing event.
Once his turn comes he moves into the room and looks for any clues.
"Bah! I could obviously just touch the blood stain, cast a spell, and know what happened here."
Moving on to the next event, Angrid stops at a gathering of like minded intellectuals. They seem to be having discussions on pieces of ancient lore and knowledge. Seeing this an an interesting opportunity to expand the general knowledge of hemotheurges among his fellow pathfinders, Angrid gives a unique glimpse into the process of hemotheurgy.
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A dashing man of mixed descent saunters up next to you. He is impeccably dressed from his gem-studded rapier to his gold earrings. "Name is Ka'atib. Haven't seen you guys before, and honestly I've never been to one of these before. Looks like there's lots to do. You guys should check out the games before the boring part starts.
"Well met, Ka'atib. I'm Zefnir and like yourself, am new to this Grand Convocation. I do believe we shall see to the games though." I may have to get out of my armor at some point, but I'll do so later, for now.
Interesting. Well, I'm off to try my hand at the trapsmithing event, then. I assume the traps involved will be of the relatively non-fatal variety? We can't afford to be losing good Pathfinders to a game...
"Sir Faeron, best of luck on your test. Devices are not really my specialty. I shall take a chance with the animals first and then proceed in a orderly manner to the other venues."
Angrid scoffs at some of the more physical events and decides to focus on the events that are more mental in nature. Floating through the crowd, he decides to try his hand at the sleuthing event.
First, Val heads to the Lore Symposium to discuss religion.
Wishing his fellow Pathfinders well in their games, Zefnir heads off to the Story-teller section to try his luck at Oratory. Perhaps I shall try out one of my anti-slavery speeches? The embarrassing result of his attempt was rather lackluster though. I really should try to improve on my oratory.
Zefnir's subsequent attempt at the Obstacle course in the second round event ends up being just as abysmal although he does try to silently convince himself that since manual dexterity is not really his strong suit, his poor showing is only to be expected.
Ka'atib tips his hat to Zafnir and goes on his way. He appears here and there throughout your games. He spends most of his time either storytelling or wenching. The wenching of course not being a sport...
Angrid's attempt at sleuthing with mundane skill goes poorly, and while a few people nod at his point concerning magic, most shake their heads - not understanding the allure of bloat magic at all. He finds a much nicer fit in the symposium. After just a few minutes he finds himself surrounded by a wide array of young hopefuls.
Val attempts to add to the conversation at the Symposium, but his words spill over themselves as he picks a rather pedestrian topic. Before long he finds the ubiquitous Ka'atib by his side giving him a friendly nod of the head and a refill of ale. The cleric finds some better luck at the crime scene drill, but can't compete with the career investigators.
Zefnir, overwhelmed by all the options and choices, opts for a rapid tour of the games. Unfortunately he never quite finds his niche. Moreso than his friends though he sees that there really is a wide variety of Pathfinders. While rare is the pathfinder with as much skill, there are Pathfinders of all races and skillsets.
Angrad: Strike out
Val: Strike out
Omrax: Strike out
Zefnir: Strike out
Faeron: Trap-springing WIN
Angrad: Lore Symposium WIN
Val: Strike out
Omrax: Strike out
Zefnir: Strike out
Faeron: Sleuthing WIN
Angrad: TBD
Val: TBD
Omrax: TBD
Zefnir: Strike out
Faeron: Trap-springing
Angrad: TBD
Val: TBD
Omrax: TBD
Zefnir: Strike out
Faeron: TBD
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Angrid moves on to the storytelling crowd.
"Let me tell you a story from long long ago regarding the evolution of the famed city of Kaer Maga. A city intertwined with runelords, outsiders, and vampire police. A city home to outcasts, wizards, troll augurs, and undead."
Angrid goes on to tell the tale of the history of his home town of Kaer Maga. Finishing with interesting tidbits of lore regarding the deeper realms of the city, including the caulborn and the mysterious gate guarded by the Brothers of the Seal.
@Angrid, the first roll is story telling, is the second back to Symposium?
No harm certainly! Totally fine with the fluff interpretation.
Faeron is having the afternoon of his life, and is quickly building a reputation for his array of skills.
Angrad: Strike out
Val: Strike out
Omrax: Strike out
Zefnir: Strike out
Faeron: Trap-springing WIN
Angrad: Lore Symposium WIN
Val: Strike out
Omrax: Strike out
Zefnir: Strike out
Faeron: Sleuthing WIN
Angrad: Strike out
Val: TBD
Omrax: Strike out
Zefnir: Strike out
Faeron: Trap-springing
Angrad: TBD
Val: TBD
Omrax: Strike out
Zefnir: Strike out
Faeron: Obstacle Course WIN
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Ka'atib tips his hat to Zafnir and goes on his way. He appears here and there throughout your games. He spends most of his time either storytelling or wenching. The wenching of course not being a sport...
Zefnir, overwhelmed by all the options and choices, opts for a rapid tour of the games. Unfortunately he never quite finds his niche. Moreso than his friends though he sees that there really is a wide variety of Pathfinders. While rare is the pathfinder with as much skill, there are Pathfinders of all races and skillsets.
Although Zefnir's attempts at reconstructing a crime scene in the Sleuthing event and discussing the differences between the Esoteric and Ethereal planes during the Lore Symposium fared far much better than this earlier attempts at the Storytelling Event ("We came here to hear some good stories, not some stupid arse preaching about the evils of slavery!" being the kindest criticism received by the Oracle) and the Obstacle Course event, neither were enough in comparison to the general Pathfinder Populous of Peers.
Grimacing just a little bit at his poor performance, Zefnir thinks, It seems that I've still a ways to go in proving myself to be an able member of the Society, to himself as he plays witness to the successes of the other Pathfinder agents in his respective events.
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"Bah! Silly bards couldn't tell the important sections of a good story with out a drum circle thumping to crescendo."
Angrid, deciding that bards just don't understand the important parts of a good story (structure and factual consistency), moves back to the Lore event.
For his last story Angrid decides to keep things local, discussing interesting tales and facts about the very grounds they are standing on.
Angrid and Val both manage to rack up some solid victories before the convocation is called.
For your performance in the Symposium: Gain a +2 competence bonus on one Linguistics or Knowledge check attempted during the adventure.
For your story telling prowess: Gain a +2 competence bonus on one Bluff, Diplomacy, or Intimidate check attempted during the adventure.
For your victory at Sleuthing: Gain a +2 competence bonus on one Heal, Perception, or Survival check attempted during the adventure.
[spoiler=Faeron]
For your victories at Trapmastery: Gain a +2 competence bonus on two Disable Device check or Reflex saving throw attempted during the adventure.
For your victory at Sleuthing: Gain a +2 competence bonus on one Heal, Perception, or Survival check attempted during the adventure.
Sir Laribold Croome, an immaculately dressed Taldan nobleman scrambles for cover behind a table, which his halfling manservant helpfully flips onto its side. Catching his breath, the Taldan fumbles for his monocle before addressing the nearby Pathfinders. “Monsters and villains are attacking all over the grounds,” he states with perfect articulation, punctuated by a crossbow bolt that embeds itself in his makeshift barricade. “Spread out, patrol the grounds, and snuff out trouble as you find it. If you should discover any clues about what the devil is going on, report back here at the base of Skyreach.” He pulls his sword cane free from its sheath and raises it overhead. “Look alive, and show initiative,” he shouts before performing an elaborate dueling salute in the direction of an elephant and setting off after it.
Pick an area Pathfinders (and be cognizant of the map.)
Your choices are south campus, northwestern campus, or northeastern campus. At the moment it doesn't look it matters where you go, the entire campus is in disarray and it's chaos eveyrwhere!
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Angrid reacts just slightly before all hell breaks loose, as if he had some inkling that something bad was about to happen. Angrid uses the next few rounds to:
1) Use his Rod of extend lesser to cast an extended see invisibility (next 220 min.)
2) Activating his ring of invisibility. Unless in combat or wish to be seen, I will reactivate this every 2.5 min. Thus always staying invisible.
3) Float up 10 ft and out of the fray.
4) Attempts to identify the invaders
While prepping, Angrid addresses the group. "Well it looks like the fates were correct about this one. Unless anyone has another location in mind, I say we tackle...""the northeast section of the compound."
The solitary figure of Ambrus Valsin himself jogs out of the Quadrangle’s courtyard. “You lot, we have a crisis here that can’t wait.” He turns and gestures to the Quadrangle. “When the banquet started, I dismissed the first-year initiates back here to continue their studies for a few more hours. The damned Aspis were waiting inside two of the dormitories,” the venture-captain says, pointing to two ivy-covered stone buildings. “I think their plan is to leverage the initiates as hostages if they have no other escape route.”
Venture-Captain Valsin regards you with an inscrutable look. “This situation can only become more desperate. The safety of our initiates can’t wait another minute. Consider yourself drafted, because you’re all I’ve got. I’m heading to the southern dormitory. You head to the northern dormitory. Talk them down, or hit them hard and fast.”
