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Sitting down upon the piano stool straddling the bard with its legs, Grogson waits for the man to awaken. Still glittering, the dwarf is not pleased,but hey this is business. "Wakie, wakie. Eggs and bacy. Ah here we are. So if that is the way you welcome your guest, no wonder this place is out of business. Oh, I'm sorry. I realize it is difficult to talk with a gag and your hands bound, but due prudence is due prudence. Let me take care of that gag thing, but should you start to cast anything, I will smash your face in with this sizable mallet. Got it? Nod yes or shake no."
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Shaking his head, he chuckles at Grogson. "What my friend is trying to make clear to you is that you are at our mercy...and he has very little," pausing to smile and then looking walking back and forth near the bound man. "I, on the other hand, am full of mercy. So you can talk to me and answer my questions, or I will walk away from this exchange and leave you to my friend here. It is really up to you."
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Pozuket barely has a chance to open his mouth before it's all over. "Well, that was straightforward enough. I just hope that he's not going to give us a lead towards yet another person to track down. I feel like all we've done is hunt down people who don't want to be found." He pauses for thought, then adds, "Although the city is quite fascinating."
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Pozuket recalls that Pratt is a well-known, up and coming Pathfinder, and was supposed to be on an expedition to Arcadia that left months ago.
Pratt readily admits to being a member of the ‘Shadow Lodge’, he doesn’t beg for his life or complain about being defeated, instead staying stoic in the face of it all.
After persistent and pointed questioning he reveals that no one in the Shadow Lodge knows any beyond their own team in order to keep the order safe and secure, asked if he was the last of the Shadow Lodge in Kaer Maga, he laughs and says no without further elaboration.
Examining the papers the on the stage reveal them to be supply lists and a list of code names and dates. There is also a list of
cities on one sheet: Absalom, Sothis, Kaer Maga, Oppara, Whitethrone, and Almas. When asked about the names, dates, and cities, Pratt simply says, “We've been busy.”
Searching Pratt reveals a potion of cure moderate wounds, a scroll of invisibility, a scroll of silence; a +1 chain shirt, a rapier, and a masterwork shortbow with 20 arrows.
Interestingly, the potion bears the same etchings as the goblins’ potions did, obviously a common supply.
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Raoul jots down all the information that Pratt shares in his notebook. "Well, this will make for an interesting read for our Venture Captain." He stops writing and looks to Grogson. "Well, the question now remains - what to do with Pratt? Do we hand him over to the Kaer Maga guard, or should we bring him to the Venture Captain and let the Society deal with him as it sees fit? We'll need to keep him gagged, of course."
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"I wish that I knew more of Kaer Maga, but I do not. I think, honestly, we should give him over to the guards and perhaps reveal who we are and why we are here. That way, we can make it clear that it is not the Society's intent to betray the city's wishes." Looking from the bard, then to Grog. "Though, I feel odd talking about it in front of him..."
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"Warden's it is then." Gagging and sacking the bard's head, Grogson moves on to binding fingers in pairs with twine. "Can't be too careful.", he says cheerfully to his compatriots. Once satisfied the the bard is bond, blind and dumb he shoulders him like sack of sugar and carries his large hammer in the other. "Let's go."
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The Duskwardens seem very interested in talking to Pratt, and with Vadoma also in custody, along with a pile of evidence to consider, the Duskwardens curiosity appears to be taking a rather dark turn. Pratt confesses to having Collgardie murdered, only expressing regret in that he was "too late".
Upon it coming clear that Pratt was behind the bringing down defenses on the Halflight path the Duskwardens appear positively incensed. "You will tread the boards once more Mr Pratt, although your stage will be the gallows and you will dance the hempen jig for us"
Whilst you now know there is a splinter group operating in Kaer Maga and possibly other Inner Sea cities, you don't know the size and scope, and deciding it's not your problem right now you send word back to Absalom.
The days work done, you return once more to your lodgings, ready to enjoy your spoils.
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The thing is that the dialogue doesn't have to be sacrificed for speed.
All too often the GM's get caught up in he says/she says chat - and this hurts the game when you end up with one player and the GM exchanging ten lines of text over the space of a week. I hate it (as a player) when I log in to check updates and there is like a three line exchange and that's it - hence as a GM I try keep it moving, truncate the dialogue where needed whilst ensuring there is a satisfactory amount of meat, and allow the players to cut witty amongst themselves to their hearts content.
If more than two or three days pass where players can't have a meaningful impact/something to do then you lose peoples interest, and if an adventure stretches too long the players start to ask 'why are we here again?' as they start forgetting a couple of lines of text from 18 months ago and immersion dies there too :)
So Scenarios it is for me on PBP, although a good module could well be contemplated. I'm not keen on running AP's, too long, and they suffer from departing players badly.
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You wander a Downmarket street a few days after the events at the theater, when suddenly the street is empty of residents, the choking mass of humanity and monsters suddenly remembering they had something better to do.
Standing about you in a loose circle are six burly men carrying cudgels and a seventh man, skinny and bedecked in robes and jewels, his right hand in a pouch on his belt. All of the men stare intently at you.
“Dakar says you owe him a favor,” says the skinny man in robes. “You’ll need to come with us.”
The men are familiar, you recall them from your last rides around the city. They hold the hoods and gesture to their waiting wagon once more.
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Pozuket looks from the thugs to the empty street and back. "While I have no objection to fulfilling our obligation, this seems a tad excessive as an escort." Looking at the hoods and making a face, he adds, "Although, if we are to be blinded as before, I suppose that having so many protectors could be beneficial if we were to be attacked by goblins again."
With a flourish of his new cloak, he hops up into the wagon and begins removing his weapons.
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Once again your heads are bagged and you are stuffed inside a small, dusty wagon and driven in bumpy, painful circles around the city for at least an hour before being dragged from the wagon, marched through small streets or large hallways, and then stopped. At this point, the bags are removed and the you find yourselves again in the club or private residence with carpeted floors, potted plants, slaves waving fans, and a giant backlit screen along one wall. A shape, decidedly vague in outline, can be seen behind the screen and a voice speaks.
“It is time for us to balance the ledger and conclude our business.”
”The two largest political entities in the city, the Commerce League and the golem-making Ardoc’s have decided the reign of the Shadow Lodge within our walls is at an end. Both parties see this problem easily solved by the Pathfinder Society, and so it comes to you to track down this ‘Shadow Lodge’, find its headquarters,exterminate its members, and rid the city forever of the meddlesome organization.”
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The often impertinent gnome ponders this for a bit, then asks, "I must admit, I'm curious. How does this work? Did the two organizations reach a mutual decision and reach out to you to see to its completion? Or did you dictate that they should reach that decision, told them so, and are now acting upon it? In either case, this is a favor which we will be quite willing to accommodate, but as I mentioned, I'm curious."
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"It is a decision both sides have mutually made. Balances of power here can be very knifes edge, and if one were to act without the other there could be confusion or weakness as a result. Armed members of one side hunting through the streets armed for bear might be misinterpreted. This way there will be no misunderstandings. It also sidesteps repercussions we might wish to avoid"
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With consensus being reached, Dakar makes small talk and chats with the
you all, but eventually the time comes to be bagged, stuffed back into the wagon, and driven about the city again. After an hour, you're dropped back at the same place from where you were taken.
The thugs give you all a friendly farewell, you wonder whether your paths will cross again.