The Glass River Rescue Table 2 (Inactive)

Game Master Baerlie

Pathfinder Society scholars recently learned of a previously undocumented Sky Citadel in what was once Sarkoris, the land now consumed by the Worldwound. Unable to push into the demoninfested wasteland by itself, the Society intends to recruit dwarven aid in this dangerous endeavor. In return for the opportunity to reclaim this lost stronghold, the dwarves are willing to provide military assistance and historical expertise. One week ago, Highhelm sent an entourage of diplomats and tacticians north toward Mendev to meet with Venture-Captain Jorsal of Lauterbury in order to discuss terms and develop a strategy. Upon reaching Xer in Razmiran, faith barges of the living god accosted the dwarves as the foreigners attempted to push upriver without docking. After the dwarves paid the proper tribute, the Razmiri acolytes, smelling a ripe target, demanded even more money. Insulted, the dwarves refused and fought their way past the faith barges, only to be captured a few hours later and imprisoned while they await interrogation and punishment. Jorsal commissioned sending magic to contact Rakuska Ingardam, the mission’s leader, when the envoys failed to show up in Mendev. Rakuska’s return message could only provide a rough estimate of where the dwarves might be held now before the spell’s word limit was reached.

Without the exact location of the captured envoys, Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin has taken several precautions to ensure the debacle does not derail the Society’s entire operation in Mendev. First, he sent orders to several groups of Pathfinders around Lake Encarthan to investigate the dwarves’ disappearance and likely imprisonment in several locations that might fit Rakuska’s description. Second, he has arranged for another set of envoys to travel north, should the first group be confirmed lost. Among these new envoys is Temel Passad, who once opposed the Society tangentially but now seems to be maneuvering to secure a new ally.

You meet Temel Passad in an opulent parlor in the Druman capital of Kerse. Served the finest Chelish wine and delicate sweetmeats while awaiting your host you have time to persue a letter from Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin.

Valsin's Letter

Please feel free to introduce yourself while you're waiting for Temel Passad.

A tall bald half elf, with striking blue eyes and a smirk on his face sips on his wine. Kyroden is six foot and is about 190 pounds. Kyroden favorite color is brown, so there for his traveling robes are brown. Kroden pulls out his book as he sips on the wine. He makes few notes about the taste and texture.
Hmm not as sweet as the Andor blend.. He says to himself. He then takes the journal and puts it away. The smell of extracts and various flavors surround Kyroden as others get near him. He has a mace that is strapped to his side that from time to time he strokes.
As he reads the letter the he smiles..

Maeron could not look more out of place in the excessive opulence of Druma. Standing over six feet in height, the elf is tall even by his races standards. From head to toe he is attired in natural, elven leaf armour, betraying his druidic origins to even the least educated. The Kyonins long, dark hair extends to his shoulders, only held under control by the hood of his cloak. His calm eyes reflect the surrounding light in their forest green hue. His face and hands are decorated with strange patterns painted from natural dyes, likely either camoflage or druidic symbols. A longbow, quarterstaff and haversack, all of clear elven design rest in place, strapped across his back. Maerons overall appearance seems both wild and civilised at the same time, displaying a clear, yet futile, effort not to stand out in urban enviroments such as these.

Flanking the druid is a creature roughly the same shape and size of a man, but with all the features of a sapling tree. The living tree shuffles its feet and rustles its leaves uncomfortably in the civilized meeting room, remaining close to it's guardian at all times. As he scans the letter Maeron places a comforting hand upon the treants shoulder to calm it as he introduces himself to those that have arrived.

"My name is Maeron Calaerdaer, a druid treesinger from the elven homelands of Kyonin. I'm not long back from a number of assignments in the Varisian city of Kaer Maga, a place I'm glad to have vacated."

The elf pauses for a moment, before gesturing to the treant.

"This is my companion, Tenderstump. He is a peaceful creature, but should our safety be threatened you can trust him to assist in our defense."

With a final bow Maeron stops speaking, finishing reading the note before listening to what the other Pathfinders have to say.

Standing in one corner of the room is a man with a dark cloak with the hood pulled up but the cloak hanging open. Under the hood you can see wary eyes methodically scanning the room, measuring the people within. there is a short bow and satchel leaning against the wall beside him, under the cloak you can see a crowbar stuck through his belt, and beside him there is a small plate with sweetmeats on it untouched.

Perception 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24 measuring up the people and room, looking for anything of interest

"I am Icarus, I gather we will be traveling together to solve this problems."

Miro finishes reading the note, rubbing a hand across his chin thoughtfully. This mission would require delicacy and a gift for swift-talking, he thought. Perfect! He surveys his surroundings, his bright green eyes crinkling as he takes a look at the others in the room. He bounds to each of them with bouncing strides, his wild mop of blond hair bouncing with each step.

"Miro Ammars, a pleasure to meet ya!" He cocks his head to the side a moment upon approaching Maeron, then grins widely. "Nice tree you got there buddy. As long as he doesn't eat a share of the food!"

Kyroden surveys the scene a elf a druid by the looks and his pet. I wonder what the pet is made of Kyro thinks to himself. He nods to the human who has entered the room. When the halfling comes in Kyroden gets up and walks over to him.
Greetings Miro Ammar, how are you? Kryoden greets the halfling. He then turns to the elf and says. Greetings Treesinger, tell me about your sect. I have never heard of a treesinger before.

Maeron smiles as the Pathfinders greet each other. Nodding at them in turn. As Miro bounces past him the treesinger responds to the halflings comment.

"Your food is safe. Tenderstump is a treant, a plant creature. His food comes from the ground and the sun."

As Kyroden turns to him Maeron continues.

"I'm not part of sect as such, but I recently became a member of the Green Faith. Treesingers are not common, especially this far away from the forest and wilderness. While many of the druidic orders share an affinity with all forms of natural life, we treesingers find our strength and solace from our connection and understanding of all kinds of plantlife and trees. It is that connection that allows me the pleasure of Tenderstumps company. Hopefully those skills will be of some use during our assignment."

The druid catches his breath, before addressing the half elf again.

"If you don't mind me asking, what skills do you possess?

Miro beams at Kyroden, giving his hand a quick shake. "I have to say, I am doing quite well, actually! I'm pretty excited about all this, to be honest. I mean, it's quite a mess, actually, but I'm hoping that we can sweep it all right up and get things patched up quick-like."

He turns back to Maeron, cocking his head to the side quizzically. He wasn't sure how pleasurable a tree would be as a companion, but to each their own. Maybe after a few days with Miro the benefits of humanoid companionship would win the Elf over.

Seeing that the two elvish folk have gravitated towards each other, he glances at the hooded man in the corner. He had almost missed him, and probably would have if he had not spoken. Miro glides over to the man, extending his hand. "A pleasure, friend. Yes, it looks as though we'll be working together for a bit. Miro Ammars, at your service!"

I watch the overly excitable halfling bounce around the room and sigh to myself. When he comes over and shakes my hand I respond dryly. "A pleasure, I am sure we will make a great team."

While a cheerful little fellow, Miro is not stupid and recognizes sarcasm from the dour man. What the fellow needed was to get into the adventuring spirit!

"I'm sure we will! I'm a singer by trade. Do you happen to know the one about the Lady from Korvosa?" Without waiting, he launches into a lovely ballad about the Lady of Korvosa.

A young, quiet dwarf with light brown beard and hair enters the room. He is rather thinner than the other members of his race and wears no armor, carrying only a buckler while a warhammer hangs at his belt. Yet, he holds in his hands a nice-looking, well maintened heavy crossbow, nearly as big as him.

Raising his eyebrows to the treant then frowning at the singing halfling, he nods to the Pathfinders with a small gesture vaguely resembling a military salute. "'Morning, I am Dorgrin", he simply says. Then, he carefully leans his crossbow against the wall and, ignoring the wine, sits on a chair and begins reading Valsin's letter.

I return a nod to the Dwarf. "Now, this is someone I can work with," I say under my breath, "no nonsense." I pick up my gear and move over to talk with him. "Good to see at least one other here takes the job seriously." I say conversationally, low enough so only he can here. "I am Icarus."

Miro continues to belt out the lyrics, throwing in a well-timed "Morning, Dorgrin!" between a couple of verses. After another couple of minutes, he finishes. He thinks about bowing, then remembers his crowd and settles for catching his breath, instead. Seems like there was someone else in need of some excitement. Maybe that lovely verse about the Lost Dwarves of Calast?

He wanders over to the young dwarf, extending his hand. "Miro Ammars, and the pleasure is all mine, good sir. A fine day for a rescue, is it not?"

Kyroden stops for a minute then answers the elf. I am skilled in the ways of science, I like to mix things. I love to see how things work such as life and magic. I am glad your with us. [/ b] He then moves over to the halfling.
Taking Miro's excitement as a means of learning. [b] Tell me friend where are you from while waiting for answer he nods in the direction of the dwarf and human. Hoping to convey warmth.

Miro responds to Kyroden, "Hello again! Well, I'm originally from the hills north of Korvosa, about halfway to Kaer Maga. Too many singers up there, I'm afraid. I thought about it for a bit, and figured a place where demons from hell attack regularly surely needs some inspiring songs for the poor bastards regularly repelling them. How about you, good sir?" Miro wrinkles his nose as he smells the man...it wasn't exactly unpleasant, just different. At least the man was friendly.

Well friend I am from Maginimar a great city. My father is great wizard who runs a book and tome store in the city. My mother is was a Lorekeeper from Kyonin. She lives with my human father in the city. Anyway my family is great, I have several adopted brothers. One is a Tiefling with horns, he took after father a bit in learning the Art. He is am agent as well.
I took after mother in sense trying to figure out things. My uncle gave me a lab kit & I started experimenting. I carry a special brew that makes me change when I need to, but also makes me smell a little a funny. I hope that does not bother you? Kyroden says to Miro.

Dorgrin clears his throat and repeats his military-like salute to Icarus then to Miro before shaking the halfling's hand. "Hem... Well met sirs. I hope we will be able to rescue those poor dwarves and do a good job for captain Valsin and the Society." He then looks briefly at his crossbow to ensure that it does not risk falling and then at his fellow Pathfinders. "Do you know if we have a full team or if we are still waiting for other people?" he asks.

He spares a glance to Dorgrin, his eyes focusing on the young dwarf for a minute. Yes, he could be serious as required. "I believe we are waiting on one more, good Dorgrin."

He turns back to Kyroden, nodding as he speaks, the grin returning to his face. "That all sounds great! So you have a demon in the family? I guess you're visiting relatives out here?" He chuckles at his own jest, eyes laughing. He might be trying to gauge the half-elf's reaction, or maybe just having a little fun.

Ragnar grins as he reads the note.

"Excellent! Mysterious ancient city, missing dwarves, religious zealots, rescue mission!"

The human gingerly sets his earth breaker on the ground head-first. "Ultimatum" is etched in gold on either side of the obsidian head.

"Diplomacy is my specialty."

Ragnar is about as heavily armed as they come. A battleaxe is strapped to his backpack, a quiver of two shortspears hangs off his left hip, and a klar, a shield made from some terrible horned lizards skull, hangs from his right. His backpack bulges with gear but the large man moves as if unencumbered. He has long hair and beard, both braided and sun bleached to near-white.

Miro looks at Ragnar dubiously, glancing at the etchings and back to the man. He didn't know what passed for diplomacy where the man came from, but he was pretty sure that the man had different ideas than he did.

Still, having more meat between him and potential trouble never bothered Miro. He grins, approaching the newest addition. "Miro Ammars, friend. And who might you be?"

Kyroden smiles at the halfling, and then says I wonder if we will run into any imps like you? He jests in return to the halfling.
I am looking forward to rescuing dwarves, they are such a fine folk. A great race of makers. I also can't wait to see what ancient city has as far stuff to see. He says to the group he looks at the human and smiles.

"Greetings Miro Ammars, I am Ragnar Jorinson of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings. I've spent the last several years on the Storval Rise training with the Shoanti people. Got a bit bored with the plains so I moved on. Found this organization, the Pathfinder Society, that promised adventure and ancient secrets and I joined right up. This will be a wonderful first mission."

"It is a bit unfortunate that some trouble befell the poor dwarves, but without times like these there would be no need for those like us, eh?"

He nods agreeably with Ragnar's assessment. "I agree. We seem like a diverse group that can handle a multitude of situations. And there IS a possibility that we could actually handle it without bloodshed, it seems."

He leans against a wall, whistling aimlessly as they wait for Temel Passad.

"I see we're supposed to make nice with this Passad fellow. Wonder what his angle is. Least we get a boat ride some of the way."

Ragnar sits and has a small amount of wine so as not to seem rude.

Maeron moves across the room, greeting those he has not already spoke to and briefly introducing himself, before joining the discussion proper.

"In my experience even the most peaceful resolution usually requires some bloodshed, but I hope that you are right."

The elf glances round the room, wondering where their host was. Given the gaudy decor in the room he was getting the feeling that the man felt no need to rush on their account.

Two silent servants open a pair of richly lacquered doors, and a human and two dwarves stride into the lavish parlor. The man, clad in immaculate robes of whitest silk, is short and round with a blond oiled beard, and his eyes are alert and amused. He takes a touch of snuff from a golden box and sneezes before saying, “It is a pleasure to welcome Pathfinders to one of my estates once more. I am, as you may know, Temel Passad. Allow me to introduce -”

One of the two dwarves, a redheaded female in deep scarlet robes, curtly interrupts the man. “We can introduce ourselves, Passad. I am Metella Raugar, representing the interests of several Highhelm mercantile consortia. My companion” — she gestures to a dwarven man with leathery skin baked by the sun, his head swathed in a bright yellow scarf — “is Amauhak of Reth Bezel, a mystic of the sand dwarves of Osirion.”

Passad attentively sees to his guests' needs and ensures that the refreshments are to their liking before discussing business. He informs you that his boat, the Abacus, will take you from Kerse, hugging the shore of Lake Encarthan before entering the mouth of the Glass River to pursue your first task: searching the Gray Revelation Inn. From there, the Abacus will take you the rest of the way to Mendev to deliver Passad, Metella, and Amauhak, and hopefully the liberated envoys. The deeply tanned Pahmet mystic notes that keeping the presence of himself and his two companions a secret is the wisest course, given what happened to the earlier team.

Maeron listens to the information provided, noting the need for secrecy. Allowing their host to finish, he eventually makes a query.

"Many of us are strangers to this area. What can you tell us of the Razmiran lands and these faith barges? Why would they attack dwarven envoys?"

Miro waves in greeting to the new arrivals, suspecting that the dwarves are business-first types. He nods in agreement at Maeron's questions.

Miro cocks his head to the side, curiosity etched all over his face. He addresses the dwarven female. "Mistress Raugar, if we are successful in retrieving the three, what will you two do?"

Then, addressing the entire room. "It seems we must now plan. Do we travel at night or day? Only keep some of our number out in the open to misguide potential enemies, or all of them to help deter would-be attackers? Do we storm the Inn, or go in and ask questions first?"

"How far do we have to go? How fast can we travel? In and out under the cover of night would be the best option, tonight would be better than tomorrow night. Clean, quite. Limit political fallout."

Kyroden takes in the scene and listens to the questions/statements made by his fellow Society memebers. He then pulls out book thumbs the pages, then mumbles.
Razmir a living god ...hmm I wonder Kyroden then realizes his mutters may draw attention. He puts the book away then says I would presume we would be more delicate in this matter, rather than just raid the country looking for our people. I do however agree with Mr. Jorinson whatever we do needs to have little political fallout.

"The nation of Razmiran is a strict theocratic government presided over by a vast priestly bureaucracy serving a being said to be a living god. All other faiths are prohibited in the nation, though foreign priests are tolerated as Long as they are not proselytizing and just passing through. All nonresidents are subject to sundry tariffs and unannounced inspections. It is no secret that the Razmiri clergy rely more on bullying than on divine miracles, often exploiting travelers to fill the church’s coffers. And this is what happened to the dwarfen envoys. After the dwarves paid the proper tribute, the Razmiri acolytes demanded more money. The dwarves refused and fought their way past the faith barges. They got captured and imprisoned a few hours later. You are traveling a few days, but food and drinks are already on board of the Abacus. You have to travel day and night to make sure you arrive at the destination as soon as possible. And keep your mission secret, please do not storm anything or the dwarves might get killed before you reach them." Temel Passad says. "If there are no more questions I would suggest you buy additional equipment in this town. Spending a lot of Money in Razmiran doesn't seem to be the best idea. The Abacus is ready to sail whenever you are."

"I am ready to leave now, I have everything I need."

I am ready to leave now. Kyroden says and the say to Ircarus Glad to see you ready as well.

Miro nods at the explanation, expecting as much. He had a feeling his conversational skills would be put the test very soon. Probably his sneakational skills, as well. No sense dragging it out. "I am ready as well. Although if anyone has anything they need to get I would be happy to accompany them!"

Dorgrin gets up of his chair, meaning that he is also ready to go.

I will wait for everybody to confirm he or she's ready to go.

"Well what are we waitin' for? Let's save some dwarves."

Miro sidles closer to Maeron, clearing his throat. Then clearing it again.

"Ahem!

He grabs his packs, eager to begin, excitement practically seeping out of his pores.

Maeron nods.

"Tenderstump and I are ready."

Your journey along the coast of Lake Encarthan from Kerse is uneventful. Passad’s hired hands (five sailors in all, including the captain) are quiet and efficient and the Abacus reaches the mouth of the Glass River and heads east without incident. As the boat enters Razmiri waters, you have a choice as to whether you will dock at Xer and pay any necessary tolls or sail on and try to evade Razmiri authorities.

"We should pay the toll and include an extra gratuity. Without a proof that we've paid the expected tribute, we run the risk of greater Trouble if accosted by one of the ubiquitous faith barges upriver. Don't worry about the money, I will pay the toll myself." Passad says and draws two platinum pieces from a whit silk purse.

"But stopping at Xer gives the authorities a chance to search the boat and discover us and the Kalistocrat. I think it's better to avoid the docks altogether and take our chance with any faith barges we might Encounter." Mettela says.

"I for one vote we bypass Xer and deal with a barges as necessary."

Watching the platinum and where he pulled the purse from and restowed it on his person.

Perception 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

Miro nods thoughtfully, weighing both options. He's confident in his ability to sway a person's thought, but discretion might be the best course in this case.

"I agree with ole Icarus here. We would be better served prolonging discovery by the authorities. Besides, who's to say they won't decide we need to pay more and accost us as they did our unlucky dwarven friends?" All this said with a grin on his face. His adrenaline was flowing now. The imminent danger served only to excite him further.

"According to our lost dwarven friends, trying to pay your way through is an exercise in futility. Still, running blockades might make traversing this river harder for everyone in the future."

Kyroden listens and then says I agree we should avoid Xer, and deal with things as we go. We know the facts of the having to bribe these barges. My as well save some coin! Kyroden enjoys the company as they figure this out. He sits down and pulls out his pot for to brew some coffee. It was a gift from a friend.

Dorgrin frowns a bit about the position that seems to emerge. He would have preferred to follow the rules and the mere idea of evading authorities, whatever they are, makes him uncomfortable. "I don't like it," he says "but I will follow the general consensus."

He turns to Passad, looking thoughtful. "Is there anyone exempt from paying the toll, good sir?"

"No, everybody has to pay the toll, no exceptions are made. Or at least I don't know of any exceptions." Passad answers.

Maeron nods soberly as he listens in on the conversation.

"I'm afraid I do not know enough about this culture to vouch either way, but it seems the decision is to avoid the toll and I am happy to support that approach if you all feel it is best."

So, you want to avoid the toll :)

Passad and the dwarves stay out of sight belowdecks in their quarters while the Abacus conintues sailing. The Abacus and its crew are nearly able to bypass Xer entirely when a nearby merchant vessel suddenly hoists a Razmiri flag and approaches, revealing that it is one of the faith barges that intercepts boats traveling near Razmiran. The Razmiri sailors demand that the travelers come to a halt before casting grappling hooks at the Abacus to pull the two vessels alongside one another.

Three Razmiri enforcers are on board the faith barge, and a chattering, trained baboon named Kanger gambols about the deck and serves as vessel’s mascot and attack dog. Once the boats have pulled close, Kanger leaps aboard the Abacus and scampers about while screeching triumphantly. Two of the barge’s sailors extend a 5-foot-wide plank from one ship to the other, and two of the armed thugs board the Abacus, while a third thug guards their crossing with a loaded crossbow.

"Hey, what's your business and how many people are on board?" one of the thugs asks.

Miro approaches the two men, keeping a wary eye on the baboon. He smiles affably at the men, speaking in a cheerful voice. "Hello good sirs! We're just travelers making our way to Razmir. I've heard so many good things about the place! People...well, there's our captain here, myself, my companions, so X. No problems, sir."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

DM, I take care to exclude from X anyone who is obviously attempting to stealth. Also exclude secret Dwarves.

"Hey everyone, come here so they can get a good count!"

Bluff to Send Secret Message: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8