[PbP Gameday VI PFS] **CORE** GM Zoomba's Valley of the Veiled Flame (Inactive)

Game Master Zoomba

It was an odd experience walking through the city, and the strange looks made Talevia uneasy. Were they nervous around strangers or was it something else?

"Greetings Eurdan Stonemantle." Talevia said, giving the Councilor a respectful bow. "Your hospitality is much appreciated.

"It is a pleasure and honor to make your acquaintance, Councillor. I look forward to hearing about why you're the only remaining councilor once we reach more hospitable (and private) environment. Lead on."

diplomacy: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (2) + 15 = 17

Amiri nods and leans on her long blade. "Indeed. Well met."

Jarlaxle doffs his hat, and smiles.

"Of course! Let's move somewhere we can have a chat..."

He then follows the party's new 'friend'.

Eudran leads the six of you to a weathered building, an inscription in Terran - "Council House" - above the door almost worn away.

Ushering you inside, the old oread looks around the empty room filled with chairs and tables that are covered in dust. "One time I and the others could have greeted you more generously. But things have changed in Crystalcrag. You should be careful: you are not the first foreigners to reach here in the last few moons. The others bore compass badges, but are now the 'guests' of Tygora at the palace. You should be careful and leave quickly, unless you want to join them. The efreeti queen wil learn of you soon if she has not already."

Neha raises her eyebrows at the oread's mention of the compass badges. "Those other visitors are our comrades, we are here to rescue them. From what I've seen thus far, it appears you could use some rescuing too. Who is Tygora, and how can we help your people return to a lifestyle that allows you to make generous greetings once again?"

"Do you know any details of where they are being held?"

"Do you know any details of where they are being held?"

Eurean sighs. "Somewhere in Fire's Hold, the palace on the hill. IF they are still alive, they would be kept there. And I suspect if Tygora wanted then dead, the execution of 'foreign agents' would have been public for all to see. Your friends' arrival made many think that perhaps they could be a sign of and agents of change. But then they vanished, as did my councilmate Koriath. The queen cannot have her order unpended you see, even for an instant."

The oread takes a set, his movements slow. He looks up at each of you as he speaks with pain in his voice.

"It was not always this way here. for centuries Crystalcrag was a pleasant and good place to live and grow - small, but neighbor bound together with neighbor. But then the Zhonar and Zhobl erupted, spewing forth their lava and destruction and leaving our town devastated. We tried to rebuild as best we could, but our resources were meager, and the damage vast. That was when Tygora arrived, and when the efreeti offered us assistance like fools our ancestors took it."

"She restored the town, but built it into a bastion to herself. Tygora twisited our wishes and made herself our ruler, . We survive safe from outsiders, but the risk from her wrath is ever present. Then her control even began infecting us - oread parents now give birth to ifrit children at random, and Tygora takes them under her wing and molds them into her own favored agents. Her ambitions seem to be growing as well, as our ifrit and her armorer have been making ready for war."

"Why have you not risen up and overthrown Tygora if she is such a terrible ruler?" Talevia asked. "How does she maintain her control?"

"This domineering cannot stand. We will help you break the chains Tygora has placed on you. From what I saw there are more oreads than ifrits; if we band together, we can overthrow Tygora, rescue our allies, and restore Crystalcrag to its former, peaceful state."

"Do you have any more people who could aid?"
Thinking that a tribe is only as strong as their strongest allies Amiri asks.

Eudan's eyes look sorrowfully at Talevia.

“We oreads are a peaceful race. Though Tygora’s rule is harsh, many of the people here have found it somewhat of a give-and-take. We complete the demands she requests, and thus are almost invisible from the mountains' other settlements."

"And we do outnumber the ifrit," he says to Neha, "But they are our own kin. Our children. Tygora may whisper in their ears and twist their thoughts, but our people do not want to harm their family."

"I can house you and your group here if you wish. But Tygora is strong, and Fire's Hold impregnable and guarded. If you have any hope to break her hold, you will need allies, and to weaken her strength." Eudan gets up and wanders over to a dusty map of Crystalcrag. Wiping it clear, he points to a series of buildings. "The Fifth Facet is a tavern in town. Many oread workers linger there each day. If decisions and friends are made there, it will likely spread throughout the town quickly."

"But even with others, Tygora's men are well armed, and confiscates supplies from our craftsmen for her war efforts. Here, Valsog the slag giant smiths weapons for the efreeti. Sabotaging those tools or taking him away from her would leave her off-balance. And the Everlasting Fire is an alchemy shop run by Morak. The ifrits demands supplies from him: if you can find away to stop the flow and protect him from reprisal, Tygora's men will be further weakened."

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28
"We understand the ifrits are family, and we will do all in our power not to harm them. But you and your people have suffered for too long under the weight of this evil. Please try to rally the oreads you swore to serve and convince them to help our cause. It's the only way to save them from a lifetime of slavery."
Diplomacy (aid Lem): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8
Neha turns to her fellow Pathfinders. "In the meantime, I suspect that we won't get far with the other townsfolk unless we can prove we're serious. Perhaps we can first visit the giant, see if this 'Valsag' can be turned against his master?"

Talevia listened to the Oread Councillor explain the situation with mixed emotions. On one hand, the community seemed to be functioning and the Oreads may be content with the status of things for the moment. On the other hand, a community ruled by fear and discrimination would break the backs and spirits of its citizens.

Part of her wanted to liberate this community from the Efreeti rule but was that truly what was best? She wasn't sure.

"We mustn't lose sight of our purpose here, to find our comrades." Talevia said. If Tygora has them, perhaps we can speak with her about securing their release."

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13
Lem attempts to follow Neha's lead, not entirely certain why, but always willing to chat.
"Indeed, Councilman, in no time at all, we'll rally your people together, and deal the appropriate blows to undermine your oppressors. It will be our honor to help free your people and restore you and the Council to its rightful place as benign rulers of this refuge. Aid us, and you will be free!"
diplomacy: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (16) + 15 = 31

Amiri strokes her chin before replying."Well, I fort one would like to meet that smith. Maybe we can convince him to work for you. Then you have the weapons!"

"Well then, it sounds like we need to rally the troops - providing a rousing speech, treating with the smith, and dealing with the alchemy shop."

Eudan's face remains stoic as Neha and Lem speak. After hey finish, the oread sits in silence for a moment, thinking. He then speaks:

"I am only one man, and I cannot guarantee they will listen to me. Our lives are hard, but if we push forth with vigor and fail it will be the end of many of us. But," the councilor rises. "we are slowly ending now. Bit by bit. Perhaps this is our last chance to change our course. So be it then. Go and do what you can. When the time comes, I will do what I can."

---
I see a couple of specific votes towards the smithy so moving there first.

Following Eudan's instructions, you thank him and leave the Council Building to head north towards the slag giant's forge. Again, oreads stare curiously at you from afar as you walk before they go back to their normal routines. Moving down the town's streets, a large plume of smoke rising in the air provides a solid beacon for your directions.

Eventually, you come to see that the smoke is billowing from a massive chimney in an open-sided smithy, whose ceiling rises at least twenty feet above the ground at its lowest point. A fenced yard hosts a multitude of swords, shields, breastplates, and helms — some are propped up on stands while others lie incomplete in piles. The cadence of steel on steel rings out from the shop.

Standing by a massive anvil, a large giant hammers away at a huge breastplate, occasionally stopping only to turn the armor over before working on another side. He sees you approach, and speaks out softly without stopping his work.

"Hello. You are new here, yes? The weapons and shields on the south end are available for purchase," he nods towards a section of the yard with a decent variety of metalwork on display, "though while it is fine work it may not be up to your full standards. I see you have a keen eye for fine craftsmanship." The slag giant nods towards some of the magical weapons borne by the party, but gives an especially deep nod towards Jarlaxle. Valsog's eyes scan the half-elf's full-plate but seem to especially linger on the shortsword at his belt.

Sorry, fell behind a bit...

"So, smithy. You look tired, don't they ever give you a day off?"

Jarlaxle smiles, and bows politely.

"Greetings! Yes, I would agree that I do have an appreciation of the finer quality things in life; good craftsmanship is a wonderful thing to have..."

He then carefully draws his mithral longsword, and holds it by the hilt and the blade, turning it in the light.

Doing so reveals a flaw in its construction, a crack running along the blade.

"Sadly, Gamin was imperfect in his forging, and it would take a true master to be able to fix him. In the interim, however, he can still be of use; after all, the world is flawed, and it still manages to get along just fine..."

Jarlaxle then sighs ruefully, before regaining his composure.

"That said, we understand that you have been supplying the overlord of this place with weapons and armor; rather than doing that, have you considered supplying the townsfolk? If they received your backing, and we were able to open up this town to outside trade, we represent a Society that would very much be interested in acquiring the services of a smith of your caliber."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27.

Neha nods in support of the half-elf. "I can't imagine a stingy leader like an efreeti has the same appreciation for your craft as you deserve. From what we've heard, she's only interested in the damage your wares can do, not the soul that you put into making them. Were you to provide your wares to the townsfolk and assist with our efforts to open up Crystalcrag to the outside world, I think you would find a healthy market for appreciative buyers."

Diplomacy (aid Jarlaxle): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

"Indeed, a talented giant such as yourself could make a huge profit if we helped you open a line of business with a whole 'nother plane!"

Aid another Diplo: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (2) + 15 = 17

Sorry, fell behind a bit...

"So, smithy. You look tired, don't they ever give you a day off?"

Not a problem. Life can happen.

Valsog sighs at August's question. Or maybe it's a laugh; its hard to tell. "A day off! You tiny folk truly do have strange ideas. No, ever since Tygora took me, thirty..or was it forty...no, forty plus ten, fifty?... years ago, this has been my task. To man the forge and make the tools. I will admit at being cross at first, with the ripping from my home. But she does give me the chance to craft, and bring the material to me: I do not need to go hunting for it."

The slag giant looks again towards Jarlaxle as he continues his loud work. "Though, work of late of mine has not been such as that. I may?" For the first time he ceases his smithing and holds out a nervous hand towards the half-elf. Assuming Jarlaxle lets him, Valsog carefully takes hold of Gamin and examines it in awe.

"Dwarven-made, yes? Any worse, and it would not be just a crack here, but two shards I think. It is hardy work - I am not even sure I could gild it much less make one its equal." He lets out a heavy sigh and hands the sword back. "If I had the time that is. Tygora's orders are growing. More weapons, more plate, more shields. I must rush to do so, but rushed work is inferior. I do not have the time to do what I could..."

The giant looks at you curiously as several of your party make entreaties for his service. "You newcomers say you are part of a Society? Of what sort? Tygora may have her best inclinations and lesser ones, but here there is always fire in the forge and metal in the stores. You are newcomers here: why do are you so eager and confident to undermine the ruler of the land?"

"Because we want everyone to do what he wants, to accept an order on his terms. You say you rush orders. Must be hard for you, feel bad. No way to make art!"
The barbarian chirps in.

Jarlaxle shrugs modestly.

"Yes, it Gamin is Dwarven-work."

He chews his lip thoughtfully for a moment.

"If what you want is time to do good work, the Society would definitely be interested in that; any fool with a smattering of skill as a blacksmith can knock out a vaguely serviceable weapon, but a true craftsman should be celebrated, not relegated to lesser duties... if you gave those weapons to the townsfolk, it would certainly aid their cause, and then we could see what you could accomplish with the right tools, materials, and above all, time..."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26.

In response to the giant's question, Neha replies, "I am a member of the Silver Crusade, a faction of the Pathfinder Society dedicated to seeing good and kindness befall the people of Golarion. We do not respect the rule of one who would snatch citizens from their homes, or wage selfish war at the cost to her own people. Help us depose this cruel overlord, and as my colleague says you will be granted not only resources and time to ply your craft, but freedom and a clean conscience for the oreads of Crystalcrag."

Diplomacy (aid Jarlaxle): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17

"The Pathfinder Society is a fine association, seeking to explore, cooperate and report. We're interested in knowledge, and helping others become their true selves. A craftsman such as you should be free to create the art you choose, and we could help you do so. But first we must deal with Tygora. Perhaps you could allow us to re-route some of these weapons to the Oread? Rather than take them from your shop, just let us know when they're being picked up for delivery? How heavily armed are the deliverymen? We would do our best not to harm them, of course. Merely subdue and take the weapons..."

just realized Lem has the better mod, so he'll make his own check
own diplo check: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 21

"50 years, eh? Well, I can see how you might forget what freedom felt like in all that time. But here we have a lot of locals that are looking for something different than the oppression they now face, and I am here to help them get it. And I think you can be part of that! Not only could you build what you want to build and the way you want to make it, but you can feel good again about who is using your wares. And we don't even need you to stick your neck out too far - just enough to help us get the ball rolling. What do you say? Are you in for a bit of fun and freedom?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (15) + 13 = 28

Sense motive: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (11) + 16 = 27

My own forge? My own own, for projects and art. It a mill of the same spears and hammers?

Valsog looks at the bent slag on his anvil, then grabs his hammer and with a mighty blow strikes down so hard the softened metal snaps.

"Very well! You promise a much better contract than Tygora offers. If you survive here, You will see what Valsog can accomplish!" The dog giant frowns a bit as he looks at the assorted arms around him. "If you want these artless tools you may, but they are far from my best work. I would just as soon destroy the lot; they are a momuemt to mediocrity!"

You sense that you could easily get Valdog to - with a sigh -donate weapons to the oreads instead of disposing them. Though while he certainly doesn't seem fond of Tygor, in the end he appears to have been swayed far less by appeals to a righteous revolution than promises to get him more interesting work.

In any case, a key source of Tygora's and her minions' weapons and protection has been cut off! What do you do now???

Lem blusters and chats up Valsog, describing in great detail the glorious forge the society could provide for him, keeping the slag giant distracted while the others hustle out the weapons. Once that's complete, he offers a curt bow to the giant.
"Soon we shall end the reign of Tygora and you will return to forging glorious works of art. Take care!"

Once they're out of earshot, "To the alchemist shop next, my friends?"

"Thank you, friend, and I can't wait to see what wonders you craft! We will be sending friends soon to help you get what you need. Fariwell, for now."

August helps organize the moving of weapons for the oread, and then taps Lem on the shoulder when they are ready. "Let's hope the alchemist is as friendly."

Off to the alchemist.

"We can hope that the alchemist is just as agreeable." Talevia added. "And I hope that our movements have gone unnoticed as well. the way that Tygora is described, we may run into her disciples if we are not careful."

Neha bows to the giant. "We greatly appreciate your decision. Please don't destroy your wares just yet, we'd just as soon turn them on the foul overseer who commissioned them before seeing them dismantled."

Turning to her allies, Neha nods in response to the suggestion to visit the alchemy shop next.

"To the alchemist shop!" the barbarian agrees!

Jarlaxle smiles at Valsog.

"As I said, I think that the oreads could make use of these weapons. We might as well put them to good use..."

When the time comes to move on to the next area, Jarlaxle grins at Lem, pulling out a scroll.

"I was planning to use this myself, but I think you could make good use of this..."

Specifically, Glibness. +20 to his +16 would make it +36 on Bluff for the next 70 minutes... which should be more than enough to visit the remaining two locations!

Jarlaxle will also cast Heroism on himself (something I forgot to do earlier).

Valsog begins setting the weapons aside while the party sets out with a new destination in mind. Reaching the Everlating Fire shop before long, you see the wood-and-stone structure sits on a busy street corner, red and orange paint brightening its exterior. A sign depicting colorful vials and a beaker hangs above the door. The sound of a commotion ahead as you approach inspires you to hurry.

Turning the corner, you see an oread man wearing a splotched smock talking - begging - with two sneering ifrits. "You cannot do this! This is my livelihood. Destroy it and Tygora will get nothing!"

One of the ifrit continues to toss a glistening liquid onto the shop's roof while the other contemptuously replies. "Then perhaps you should have thought of that before not giving your contributions to the Queen, Morak. I'm sure we can find another craftsmen. Especially once they see what their 'unreliability' can bring."

The ifrit ignores the oread's Morak desperate protests, but sees you staring. He barks in Ignan and his companion turns as well.

"Move along outsiders! This is the Queen's justice - it does not concern you!"

You see several oreads looking at the scene from across the streets, but all seem to be pointedly avoiding the area.

Jarlaxle winks at Lem.

"Why don't you take that newfound Glibness of yours for a test spin; you might even be able to convince them that you are a polymorphed lamassu, and therefore inherently trustworthy, if you play your cards right!"

Sorry, I couldn't resist the reference ;-)

"And that is where you are wrong, insolent whelp! After she sent you, the Queen came to her senses and decided to send some actual professionals to deal with this recalcitrant rock--namely us. It's tough to know whether she simply feared you two were completely incompetent, or if she just wanted some plausible deniability if we need to deal with that in a more permanent way." Lem points at the Oread. "But I'm sure if you rush back you could ask her yourself. Of course, the way Tygora was ranting about the foolish Ifrits who lost Valsog's latest batch of weapons, I'm sure it'll go well. Of course, if it were me, I might find a nice warm spot to lay low. I have never seen the queen quite so ... livid. I've never seen her turn that particular shade of purple before. But regardless, you are not our concern, and are certainly no longer needed here. Move along before we decide you are in cahoots with this Oread."

lying his butt off: 1d20 + 36 ⇒ (14) + 36 = 50

Now that is a bluff check

The faces of the ifrits slowly morph from anger, to smug confidence, to concern as Lem continues to weave his tale of Tygora's furious mood. By the end, both enforcers' red-orange skin has paled to an almost yellow hue.

"We..." one stammers, finding his voice. "...no word of new..."

"We hadn't heard that the eternal Queen was bringing in assistance to help get these earthers into line." The other breaks in, recovering somewhat more quickly. "I assure you that there shouldn't be any more trouble. The Queen knows that this quarter is run according to her wishes. That said, I leave the pleasure of dealing with this defier yourselves. Let them see the might they would face outside the safety Tygora provides Crystalcrag. Yes." He turns to his companion. "Come along Embit. Let's go and roust the Pebbles fo the stolen weapons."

He hurries away, sweat sizzling slightly as it lands, followed closely by the other guard who from the sound of it seems slower on the uptake "Wait, what weapons..."

As they leave, you turn to the oread alchemist Morak only to see that he too seems petrified of you.

P-p-ple-please. I do not know where she found you. But my shop. It is my everything! If you spare it, I can give Tygora twice the contribution next month. Three times!

"How about we say you give Tygora nothing, and help us out instead?" August winks at the man.

"What were they pouring on the roof, anyway? Something flammable? Why don't we help you clean that up."

Amiri just smiles wickedly at the shopkeeper."Sh, no worries. We are the good guys! But Lem, that was a show. You are the best at that!"

Jarlaxle waits until the ifrits are well and truly gone, and then winks at the shopkeeper.

"Actually, as my colleague said, we aren't on her side; you just looked like you could use some help to defuse the situation... but if you could help us overthrow the ruler of this place, any assistance you can provide would be gratefully accepted..."

"You are not..." the nervous oread looks confused for a bit. Then Morak's eyes widen and he points a finger towards Lem. "OOOOOH, you were pulling a trick on them! You are very convincing little one."

He looks towards the monk. "Yes, Tygora demands all of us make contributions to her forces. She says it is to continue protecting us from outside dangers, but she asks for more and more. I think Crystalcrag is not enough for her: she wants to move and grow. But the demands are too much, I cannot sustain them. So I stopped for a week in protest, and then those two wayward ifrit came and would have burned my
shop down with oil!"

He abruptly rushes into the shop quickly, then emerges holding five vials. "If you are against Tygora, I wish you luck but fear for your safety. She is a formidable genie. But if any of these can help you please have them. For my thanks and support!" He hands you a single potion of resist energy (fire) and four of cure moderate wounds.

The oread milling about around the store and who observed the situation still keep some distance, but you hear snippets of approval in the air as they seem to be talking to each other more quickly, and with hints of hope.

Jarlaxle tips his hat to the oread.

"No trouble at all... do you happen to have any other items for sale, perchance?"

What is the item level of stuff we can purchase? I figure before we go after the ruler, we might want to stock-up on some consumables...

Neha nods and smiles as the ifrits leave, and bows slightly to Morak. She looks around to see the murmuring oreads. "I think we may have the clout we need to convince the others to fight. We should head to the tavern and rally our troops before we storm Tygora's palace."

As soon as the Ifrits have passed out of sight and earshot, Lem bows, sweeping out his flute as he does so, and finishes with a jaunty flourish.

"Lying on behalf of the oppressed for more than 2 decades! Thank you so much for the assistance. Is there, by chance, anything you can tell us about Tygora and the supplies you send her? At the very least, spread the good word amongst Oread that you trust." At this, Lem raises his voice: "The time has come. The revolution is at hand!"

diplomacy: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 21

And with another bow, he heads for the tavern.

Jarlaxle tips his hat to the oread.

"No trouble at all... do you happen to have any other items for sale, perchance?"

What is the item level of stuff we can purchase? I figure before we go after the ruler, we might want to stock-up on some consumables...

Morak furrows his brow as he thinks. "I am not quite as stocked as I would care to be. Tygora demands her share, and less and less traders come through. But please come and take a look: I still have many useful mixes that you may need soon."

You can make purchases of potions and alchemical items worth up to 2,000 gold, though anything not from the CRB or APG may not be guaranteed to be available - unlike Absalom or Kerse there is only one horse in town.

As Morak leads the half-elf into his store and August starts to clean the gunk from its roof oil, flammable flammable oil, Lem calls towards the shopkeep with questions. Morak himself does not have too much new information to offer - [smaller]She let me do what business I could, but only as long as her contributions were part of it. Alchemist fires, oils for weapons...she took everything that would keep her and her forces Strong[/smaller - but as the halfling chants for revolution you see a few oreads on the street begin to throw their fists in the air as well.

Jarlaxle or others can buy some things per the above if you like. Otherwise, we will see what stir your actions are causing at the Fifth Facet tomorrow.

Pondering for a moment Amiri opens her purse and then shakes her head sadly. "I am a poor woman my dear!"

I just figure if we are going up against an Efreet, we might want to have Potions of Resist Energy(Fire) handy, if we can afford them...

Jarlaxle happily forks over the money for a Potion.

Lem pats Amiri reassuringly on the leg.
"The dangers of being such an active adventurer...your coin purse always seems so light. Perhaps we should let Amiri have the one potion the alchemist was kind enough to gift to us? And I'm certainly willing to sing for mine, if only we had time for me to do so..."