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The Gnome sized halfling stood beside the excited Gnome took a step toward the man. "I'll have you know I already intended on keeping my eye on everyone. No one's gonna ruin the celebration but me!" Put his foot in it already. "So who're you then? Making a request before introducing yourself is, well, it's just pretty rude."
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As you make your way through the streets, a lean-faced man hiding behind a long cowl slips alongside. “A moment of your time,” he says and pulls you aside, into the shadows of a nearby alley.
“It seems we have two things in common, an eagerness to participate in good celebration, and this…” He punctuates his sentence by holding out an elaborately carved wayfinder, the type only granted to Pathfinders of great importance.
"Never really saw the point of parties." Says the lank woman the size of a halfling standing on the shoulders of a gnome. Her voice has enough vocal fry to make some really crispy bacon.
“I assure you, its mine,” he adds quickly, closing the device and tucking it back into the folds of his cloak with a quick, easy motion. Then he continues, “I know a good number of you are already planning to attend the festivities this evening. I need but a casual favor. An old associate of mine, Charvion Eater-of–Bones is set to make an elaborate display of some artifact he claims to have recovered. I’ve not had contact with him in a year or so, and I’ve a curious feeling about the event. More I cannot say; however, I’d appreciate you keeping an eye on whatever stunt he’s considering. He’s a natural charlatan that one. Just keep an eye out is all—nothing serious. Don’t let him know that you’re watching, and do not approach the artifact during the showing. Most importantly, tell no one of this conversation.”
*Smirk*
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Towering over the Gnome Halfling and Human, the greyish wall of scales listens to what the lean-faced man says after calling the group into the ally. The Nagaji flicks his forked tongue a moment before responding to the man "If man with no-name iss attending sselebration, then why doess no-name need others to keep eye on Eater-of-Boness. No-name can watch with own eyess!"
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"Never really saw the point of parties." Says the lank woman the size of a halfling standing on the shoulders of a gnome. Her voice has enough vocal fry to make some really crispy bacon.
"Well, my dear, perhaps we need to get you a drink then. The point of a party is to enjoy yourself and share a bit of company. Even Pathfinders need some time off."
He looks over to the man holding the Wayfinder and rolls his eyes. "Although it seems we'll be half-on duty anyway."
"What kind of artifact does he claim to have? A religious one? I'd be interested in seeing it."
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Earlier:
There's a gnome walking through the crowd, both hands holding a large tome of hieroglyphic symbols. Half by luck he seems to avoid most of the other pedestrians, but he bumps into a large grey-scaled leg then stumbles into a fellow gnome.
He look up from the book, blinking magnified eyes, through thick glasses, as if finding himself somewhere unexpected.
His mop of wavy blue hair surrounds his head like a nimbus. He wears simple clothing in several places marred by burns or stains. About his person, bulging out of pockets, attached to bandoleers, tied to a string around his neck, and sticking out of a boot-top are a motley assortment of little bottles, each containing something different. Some bottles contain a glowing liquid, or a shrivled flower, many contain colorful powders, or fog, or what might be water, blood, milk, and honey.
'Bottles', they call me, I don’t know why…” he says to the room, and then to himself, "Yes, I remember, I'm going to a party…”
He blinks and looks around.
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Almost forgetting about all the others around him, Lumpii's turned with a puzzled expression on his face. As if to say 'How did you get there!? Until of course he remember what he had just said about being ever alert and watching everyone... Maybe he still needs to work on that.
"Aptly named. Named that because they knew you'd carry bottles? Or do you carry bottles because that's your name?" He took a moment to think about his questions. Almost as if there had been no thought before he said it.
"I'm Lumpii." He said with a cheesy grin.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun suddenly disappeared and a rasped voice, complete with authentic hiss action, echoed from above, once again causing the Halfling to wonder how there was someone so close and he didn't notices. Also to consider getting glasses.
"I agree with this guy." He said pointing straight upward to the Nagaji, whilst directing his comment to the nameless "Pathfinder". "By the way, this guy." Directed toward the Nagaji. "Names Lumpii! Enjoy the festivities."
Keeping his arm stretched upward he held his hand out as if to exchange the greeting know as a handshake. Whilst with his other hand toward the Gnome in the same manner.
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Another Nagaji joins the group as they cluster around the stranger. This one is clad in a simple loincloth under kikko armour, with a heavy travelling pack over his shoulder. Tribal paint covers his scaled face, arms, and legs in colorful designs and bands in a natural scheme. What deep woods this snake man has slithered from is in doubt, however, it is very clear that this.. creature.. is perhaps not as civilized as one would wish for a dinner party.
"Fundir alwayssss watch." he hisses out.
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"This shall be amazing! History in action, my friends! I do hope it's better than last year though. Someone completely forgot to tell the armorers that the kepsid laurels were never used as decoration on armor at that time. It wasn't until nearly 800 years later that the kespid laurels were first seen decorating swords, and then armor and shields. 800 years! How could they get that wrong?!" Dario shakes his head.
"Oh well, let's go see what anachronisms they have for us this year. Hopefully the wine will be a good vintage." The Professor chuckles and waves the others on toward the seats.
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"Well, my dear, perhaps we need to get you a drink then. The point of a party is to enjoy yourself and share a bit of company. Even Pathfinders need some time off."
"Try it and die screaming." Natula growls.
"This shall be amazing! History in action, my friends! I do hope it's better than last year though. Someone completely forgot to tell the armorers that the kepsid laurels were never used as decoration on armor at that time. It wasn't until nearly 800 years later that the kespid laurels were first seen decorating swords, and then armor and shields. 800 years! How could they get that wrong?!" Dario shakes his head.
"Haven't the foggiest." Natula says in the tone of someone who would rather be elsewhere. "Honestly, most of these people look a bit too well-fed to have been involved in any siege this side of a pantry."
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Dario settles into a vacated seat as several people clear out at the sight of Grayscales. "Hmm, they must have had an emergency."
"It would be quite a sight to see a Nagaji breeding nursery. There are very few texts documenting how to care for a newly hatched Nagaji. It would be an intriguing text, though I, myself, am more a scholar of religion. I'm writing a books on the various religious practices in Golarion."
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Lumpii strides through the crowd of fleeing people with a large grin fixed upon his face. A night where he might not have to get angry... Well that never happens, guess he can't help himself.
He hops on a seat before hopping back off to scratch an itch, before retaking his seat. "Greyscales, I gotta say I like your style. "
He poses himself ready to see what the festivities have to offer. His excitement begins to fade and he remembered what the mysterious man said. The precaution leading him to keep his hand on his pistol at all times.
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Grayscales follows Lumpii to the sitting area, "Fat oness ate thin oness. Like Nagaji breading nurssery."
Reaching the sitting area, Grayscales glares intimately at few people already seated and suddenly they decide to find other seats.
Natula follows the big luggage's example and frightens folks away from the good seats.
Seated she lights a cigarette with the tip of her finger before shaking the spark out.
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Grayscales watches the Passion, but is soon board until the audience starts to throw the rotten cabbages "Wass throwing cabbagess part of the original battle? Why didn't sstarving people eat the cabbagess and throw rockss insstead?" Grayscale shakes his scaly head and procure a large ale from a passing merchant waiting for the show to end.
Once the after show with Eater of bones starts, Grayscales watches the man curiously, "Ancient magic bad sshould be left buried in sswamp, nothing good will come of ripping world cloth"
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Once he realizes the mock siege is over, "Bottles" is all focused attention, and the book is put away.
The Professor whistles as the artifact is revealed. "Quite impressive. You think it does what he says?"
"One would hope not. It sound quite dangerous-- and usually it is other people who are telling me something is too dangerous. Though it could certainly clear up a number of annoying blank spots and contradictions in early Osirani dynastic progressions. Do you think he can talk to a ghost from the 5th southern dynasty? Or would they all be on the other side of the sea?"
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"Greyscales! Bottles! If this guy is dodgey I suggest we keep some distance from that machine. Or... We could maybe go and... Well, just have a close look."
That being said he hops off his seat once more and makes his way toward the machine. Knowing full well never to split your party, he stopped walking before the end of the seats and turned back to his allies and then back toward the machine.
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Natula finds that some of the trinkets on display are inert without no aura of magic. Others are various knick knacks, some with indeterminate magical aura other then being stronger than mst she may have seen, including some that a certain Venture Captain's artifact aura.
In an ominous and unearthly voice he bellows, “I am now fused to the ethereal plane—the realm of ghosts! Ask me what you will, and the dead shall answer through me! But be wary of what you seek, for you may not like the answers.”
"What sort of idiot are you?"
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Fundir follows along behind the rest of the party, not really interested in the wares or much of the show. This area has way more people the he is used to being around at once. As the conversation turns to Charvion, though, he cant help but agree with Natula and Bottles. "Thisss issss mossst unnatural. Thisss magic trick should not be toyed with!!"
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Grayscales watches in amazement as the black dragon swoops in snatching the ancient magic machine and the Eater of bones. After a moment, the Nagaji starts clamping and hollering "Exssellent, good ending to a dull sshow!"
Grayscales continues to clap for a few moments until he notices no one else is clapping, but most commoners are cowering in cover, he looks confused "Not part of sshow?"
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A massive black dragon dives through the center of the Irorium, spewing gouts of acid onto the arena floor. She heads straight for the small stage where Charvion stands within the cage. Striking with both claws, she plucks the artifact free from the base, shattering the stage and sending remnants of the mock ruins everywhere. The creature lifts into the air, with Charvion clinging to the bars and screaming in terror. The great beast continues her flight, winging off toward the Grand Lodge. A few short moments later, rattling explosions shake the city and a shimmering column of pale, silvery light shoots up out of the grounds of the Grand Lodge and into the night sky.
"Typical."
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The barbarian looks at Natule, "Natule sseen thiss sshow before?"
Grayscale flick his forked tongue out, "Yess help lodge with big dragon. If Professssor ssee dragon up closse, may ssee inside of dragon too."
The Nagaji starts jogging towards the grounds of the Grand Lodge moving easily through the crowds making a path for the others to follow.
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"Bottles" rushes at the pair of goblins and tosses a bomb at the nearest one.
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splash damage 5. reflex 15 for half
- splash weapon rules
"You've ruined the demonstration!"
Awenydd83
nightdeath
"Bottles" Lazuli
Fundir
Natula Icosagon Thako