After listing the following information in the Discussion Thread please go ahead and dot and we will begin.
Character Name:
PFS#
Faction:
Day Job:
The invitation delivered last night was remarkably simple,
especially given the importance of the occasion: “Start where it
all began. Meet us at the Pig’s Paunch one hour before dawn. The Pig’s Paunch is a run-down building with a faded sign
of a large pig standing on its hind legs, arms folded above a
corpulent belly. Inside, the air is thick with the scents of human
sweat, stale tobacco, and leftover food. In the center of the
room, surrounded by inebriates sleeping off their revelries, a
familiar elven man stands high upon top of a large round table.
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A short, young, green-skinned grippli opens the door to the Pig's Paunch and examines his surroundings. The grippli seems to be wearing an exotic suit of armour, made out of iron hexagons sewn into cloth and covered by a plain dark cloak. He glances at the letter held in his hand, then smiles and seats himself by the elf's table.
"Very well, it seems I am in the right place."
The grippli reclines himself in his chair, breathing in the unfamiliar air of an early-morning inn. He once again takes a look at the invitation he is holding, and smiles at the sight of the Glyph of the Open Road on it.
Today is the beginning of something great.
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A halfling wearing a flowing sky blue cloak with silver trim rides atop a white pony whose mane seems to be made of flame. As she brings the strange beast to halt outside the Pig's Paunch, the stable boy that comes out to receive her stops and stares in horror. She smiles disarmingly as she dismounts, a smile the stable boy cannot help but return. She turns to her pony and says, "Thank you for the ride, as always, Bing Wu. Enjoy your rest."
Astonishingly, the pony replies, "This one is happy to serve. It is always fun to visit this strange place." The halfling holds the palm of her hand to a glowing rune on the pony's forehead--the same rune that glows on her own forehead--and the pony disappears in a gout of flame.
The halfling looks at the stable boy and shrugs. "Sorry to not have any work for you, but here," and she flings him a copper penny.
The halfling enters the Pig's Paunch, and takes a moment to look around at everyone assembled, a big smile of wonder on her face. With her left hand clutching a spear over twice as tall as she is, and the other hand a fist on her hip with her elbow sticking out, she has a commanding presence her 2 foot 8 inch stature belies. When she spies the elven man, she pulls back her hood and a mop of clean but unkempt light brown hair cascades over her shoulders. She asks a barmaid for an ale and a "Slip seat" with no discomfort at the using the self-derogatory term.
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The nagaji woman enters the Pig's Paunch in the darkness. She has slept soundly but it appears many here are still winding up from the night before. She shakes her head, remembering when she didn't have important orders to follow.
She looks around for others who appear awake and sober and approaches. "Hello, I am Krstani," she hisses. "Are you the other Pathfinders?"
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The grippli smiles warmly as the halfling enters the room. He is a bit disappointed when the woman doesn't begin a conversation, and merely closes his eyes, humming a grippli folk song in deep overtones. His peace is disrupted when another person enters the Paunch - this time a nagaji woman, easily twice the grippli's height to his estimate. He looks eagerly as she joins him, the halfling and the elf.
"It is lovely to see people come visit the inn so early in the morning! Hello, Krstani; in the tongue of my people my name is Rikki Karpadi, but I ask that you refer to me as Enrique. My pleasure to make your acquaintance!"
Enrique sips at his mug of now-lukewarm cocoa and nods happily.
"Listen to yourself, referring to us as the other "Pathfinders", as if the confirmation is already over and done. I like your optimism, and I'm sure Sir Enrique would as well."
Without explaining his cryptic final sentence, Enrique is absorbed in thought as he drinks some more of his warm beverage.
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As Sithiel pushes her "Slip seat" into place and climbs atop it, her eyes grow wide as she notices the frog-like being already seated. She realizes she is being incredibly rude, her cheeks turn bright red, she recovers her smile, and says, "Well met! I am Sithiel Neuma. I like your armor; did you make it yourself? From what land do you call home? I'm from the free lands of Andoran!"
When she turns to see who this "Krstani" is, she becomes flustered all over again. "I...aye, I'm a Pathfinder...or will be," she says sheepishly. "Please accept my apologies," she says to both the grippli and Krstani, bowing her head solemnly. "We do not have many...of either of your kind in my part of Andoran." Her smile appears again and her eyes flare to life. "And from where do you hail, Krstani?
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"Please excuse my ignorance, Enrique, but did you just refer to yourself in the first and third person at the same time? Is that a quirk of translating your native tongue to Taldane? I study languages. In Gnomish, they don't use pronouns. So that last sentence I just said would be 'In Gnomish, Gnomish speakers don't use pronouns.' Well, kind of--it wouldn't work because they don't have a word for 'pronouns.'" As she finishes, Sithiel patiently awaits the answers to the questions that she buried in her paragraph.
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A grin appears on Enrique's face, reflecting Sithiel's confusion.
"I knew this would spark your interest! It is not a result of mistranslation, no; I was in fact referring to Sir Enrique, the personage whose foul spirit I carry within myself. I will not elaborate further so as not to scare you away, but... if I ever suddenly sound like an evil Chelaxian conqueror, know that it is nothing out of the ordinary."
Enrique chuckles and wipes his mouth with a napkin.
"My armour was constructed in a far-away empire, and brought to my lands by Sir Enrique's army. Of course, it does not befit my culture to don such armour, but you have to leave some of yourself behind in order to survive and thrive in this world. My lands, before you bother yourself to ask again, are in the jungles of the Mwangi, where grippli have lived sovereign for thousands of years before the conqueror came."
As a final note, the grippli adds:
"And if you want, I can tell you about my mother tongue later. It is a fascinating language, Grippli, and one that is very different from Taldane. Did you know, for example, that we do not use the verbs "be" and "do"? Also, as a result of our more equal society, we have both feminine and masculine versions for each verb and adjective. There are plenty other differences! I'll try doing the same as you, literally translating the last sentence I said... hmm...
"Also, as'result of the'society the'more equal(F) our, have to us versions feminine and masculine for each verb."
The grippli bursts out laughing, nearly spilling his cocoa in the process. After a short moment, he recomposes himself and looks at Sithiel, awaiting her reply.
"Lucky they teach us how to properly use Taldane at a young age, eh?"
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At the mention of carrying another spirit within him, a look of compassionate understanding overcomes Sithiel's face. When she hears "Chelaxian," anger flashes in her eyes. All the rest she listens to with rapt fascination, laughing at Enrique's jokes.
She says solemnly, "When I was growing-up, I'd tell my parents I could hear whispers from nowhere. They dismissed it as a childhood fantasy, and I even convinced myself they weren't real. But when Bing Wu, a fire elemental steed, first appeared to me, I knew it had been him and others like him the whole time. There are eight other spirits I can call upon, and I hear many more indistinct voices I haven't been able to fully contact yet. So I can understand the bit about sharing a spirit. Luckily, all mine have been quite benign. I can't imagine what it would be like if those whispers were evil..." She shudders visibly at the thought.
"But you are a jovial fellow! This is exactly the kind of experience I was hoping to gain from the Pathfinder Society!"
Upon seeing the new arrival, Sithiel looks overjoyed and eagerly takes the offered hand. "My horse is a fire elemental!" she exclaims proudly.
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Shalagor comes trudging up to the door of the Pig's Paunch and turns to the little ball of fur next to him. "Now stay" he says pointing to a spot next to the door. As he opens the door and walks in his companion sneaks in behind him, clearly not caring for the command that Shalagor just gave him.
As the door is thrown open in walks a six foot half orc with shaggy, dull, brown hair and a beard that clearly hasn't been trimmed in sometime. He is covered in animal pelts and strapped to his back is a huge falchion. As he approaches the table you can see that trailing behind him a small brown bear cub.
"I hope this was all worth it," Shalagor thinks to himself as he enters the first man made establishment he's been in in months.
Looking around the room he smiles to himself as he notices the lack of humans in the building. [i]"Well that is unusual, not a human in sight. They usually have their noses in everything."
He approaches the table filled with all sorts of creatures and introduces himself. "greetings, I take it by the look of you all, we are here for the same thing" he raises the letter in his hand. "I am called Shalagor and I am a stalwart protector of the land."Shalagor turns to pull up a chair and notices the bear sitting on the ground behind him. "I thought I told you to stay, we don't need to be scaring people we just met," Shalagor says in a deep, gruff voice. Turning back to the group. "and apparently my friend here didn't feel like waiting outside. Let me introduce you to Oso, he's pretty gentile, just not very cooperative, apparently." he glares at te bear as he says the last few words and then plops down. In the chair and pulls a strip of meat out of his belt pouch and hands it to Oso.
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Stiffening at the pronouncement, "You have enslaved an elemental and take pride in the fact? The stories of others taking advantage of planar beings is prevalent. Until now I thought them to be exagerations. I am sorry to find it to be true." Seeing the half-orc and his 'companion', she adds, "I suppose it is no different for creatures native to this plane either."
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Sithiel looks like she's about to cry at the accusation "Bing Wu's not my slave...he's my friend." Then she recovers slightly. "I'm an Andoren and we do not condone forced servitude." Her conviction seems to get stronger. "In fact, we actively work to snuff the practice out." She then continues sagely, almost as if quoting from some tome, "it is the responsibility of a summoned creature to discern the motives of the summoner, and they may refuse any request. All my friends chose me." Her eyes widen again because she doesn't want to come off accusatory, and then she smiles in wonder. "Have you been to the world of flame?"
She stares up and up and up at Shalagor, then looks to Oso as her eyes turn into large saucers and she starts quivering. She squeals, "Oso is so cute! Can...can I pet Oso?" Then she thinks again, "I mean, is it even okay to pet--is Oso a boy or a girl? Like, if Oso can, um, reason like a person then I guess that would be weird?"
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Making his way towards the Pig's Paunch, Brik knew that he'd be late, but then did he really care with drink in hand?
This was his first job as a Pathfinder and though a little sceptical, he made the journey. Just not without a couple of small kegs of alcohol to keep him company.
Stumbling into the door, the man almost gracefully composed himself before tripping over the step on the way in.
Wh-ww-who put tha' th-there? he asked aloud, turning in an exaggerated matter as he looked on at the step with disgust and frustration.
Dusting himself off, he looked around the room, somewhat taken back by the unusual races around him.
Is this the drink or am I seeing what I actually think I'm seeing?
The man himself stood rather tall at just over 6'1, with long black hair, not quite shoulder length, a large shield strapped to his back, a Longsword sheathed by his side and a suit of Scale Mail armour, oddly radiant in appearance, as the silver, spotless scales of the armour glimmered with an almost ethereal glow. The neck line on his armour was noticeably lower than most other armour of that type and it was quite clear that the man of pale complexion was rather intoxicated.
Outstretching his hand with an open palm, gesturing at all those around him, he simply asked; Pathfinders? somehow managing to get the single word out without any trouble.
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Sithiel's initial reaction is wow, he's cute! but then he spoke. She suddenly feels better about the all the social faux pas she has made since entering the tavern.
With a weary expression in her eyes, and a slightly fake smile on her face, she says through her teeth, "Aye, that we be!" Then she thinks to herself, hey, if a drunk guy can become a god, a drunk guy can become a Pathfinder and her smile becomes genuine.
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"Oh, hahaha. OH ha.ha.ha," Shalagor lets out a bellowing laugh at the Ifrit's insinuation. "Oso. My slave. I think you are a bit mistaken for I am beholden to her, not the other way around," He pauses to let it sink in before explaining himself. "You see when I was younger I was a bit of a wild half-orc, one day I bit off more than I could chew, challenging some full orcs to a fight and was captured and sent to the fight pits. I was sentenced to fight a bear to the death but instead of attacking me the bear spoke to me and made me pledge to protect her daughter," with a smile Shalagor runs his huge hand through the bears thick fur. "Momma was a fearsome one wasn't she," He says to the bear before turning back to the Ifrit. "We were outnumberd but Lawe, her mother, was able to hold them back while I freed Oso and we've been with each other ever since."
The halflings eagerness to pet Oso snaps Shalagor out of the memories that plague his dreams. "I could never deny Oso affection. Here, give her this and she'll be your best friend" Shalagor fishes out another strip of dried meat and hands it to the halfling. You're getting spoiled today aren't you Oso?"
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Well, th-that's a s-start. he said with a hic, a little unsure about who or what he was talking to, but seemingly surprised without concern.
D'you two h-ave n-names? he asked, seeing double and swaying ever so slightly on the spot, distracted by the bar across the room.
Bah....I'm empty. Time for a refill!
"“Welcome! Welcome, my students! Please, have a seat!” With
that, Kreighton Shaine, the Pathfinder Society’s Master of Scrolls,
nimbly drops down to sit cross-legged on the table before
looking about the tavern with a sense of reverent wonder. “Can
you believe it? It all started here years ago—well, over four hundred of them at least. Under this very roof the Pathfinder
Society was born.
“But today! Today you will begin your Confirmation! Master
Farabellus, Master Zey, and I all agree you each have shown your
worth and dedication to the Society, so there’s no better time
to see if you can handle becoming full field operatives. Allow
me to introduce you to Janira Gavix,” he says as he motions
for an excitable halfling woman to approach. She wears a large
backpack and carries all manner of tools, pouches, and scroll
cases around her waist. Shaine continues, saying, “Janira here
will be going with you on
your Confirmation. She was
one of my brightest pupils
and will no doubt be an
invaluable resource on your
journey, for she discovered the
caves you are about to explore
during her own Confirmation.”
"Janira speaks up in an
enthusiastic and cheerful
voice, “Greetings,
aspiring Pathfinders! Six
months ago, while I was
mapping cave entrances
in the foothills of the Kortos
Mounts, I witnessed a lone
gillman entering a concealed cave.
I thought little of it at the time, but I saw
another one enter the cave again a month
later as my Confirmation stretched on. A few
days later, after I completed my assigned task, I entered the
cave system, but was unable to find the gillmen.”
Master Shaine hops to his feet. “Initiates, for your Confirmation,
you will travel to these caves to explore and document its many
passages. Additionally, and most importantly, you are to learn
what the gillmen are up to in there. Oh, and you need to come
back alive as well.” With these parting words, the Master of
Scrolls jumps off the table and strolls out of the building while
humming to himself.
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"Please, forgive me Shalagor. You have taken on a sacred bond with Oso, I am certain he will make an excellent agent himself one day. I was wrong to impune you so." Turning to address Sithiel, "I hope to find that your relationship is as you describe it."
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"I believe we welcome the opportunity to prove ourselves to the Society."
i believe it is a functioning tavern
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With no response from Sithiel, Brik shrugged and made his way over to the bar, greeting the barmaid with a drunken smile.
Gimme yer strong'st Perry. Drink....fixes all! he said aloud, slamming his right hand down onto the counter, laughing as he spun around to watch Kreighton's ostentatious display, listening as carefully as a borderline alcoholic could, to what Janira and the Elven man had to say.
Mid-speech, he found an unoccupied table, threw himself onto the chair with a heavy thud and kicked his feet up onto the table, missing it completely the first couple of times.
As a supporter of Cayden Cailean, he was happy enough. He had drink and that's all that mattered. Drink gave him strength and perhaps with it....an unhealthy addiction.
Yeaaaah. Caves, shmaves. F'that's where we're gu'n, tha's where wuh going.
Turning to face Janira, he looked the woman in the eyes somewhat awkwardly, smirking as Kreighton pranced out of the building, humming to himself.
Ha! Ja-Januuura, i-is e' alwes l-like tha-t? he asked, his words fluctuating between comprehensible and slurred as he found the whole display hilarious in his near drunken stupor.
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Recovering from an intense inner conflict that prevented him from participating in the conversation, Enrique makes his comments on the situation.
"And you truly believe a few wandering gillmen should alarm us? I'm not against exploring and mapping a series of caves, but I doubt the gillmen should be of special interest."
Enrique finishes his cold cocoa with a big gulp and turns to address Brik's antics.
"Better watch out, big fella; drinking weakens your mind, and you never know what could happen when you're not aware."
The grippli points at his empty mug with a knowing smile.
"You might want to order one of those next time. Tastes better and leaves you with all of your brain intact."
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Shalagor chuckles at the Ifrits insult. "Is this really the time to be playing cards?" he asks turning to Janira.
"So, you will be leading this little expedition. I can't say that I have ever ran across a Gilman in my time, might be interesting to meet one. When do we leave?" The half-orc asks in a gruff tone.
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Brik winced at Azora's comment, muttering slightly louder than he thought and intended, the scent of strong alcohol leaving his mouth as he exhaled. Sheesh, bernd by th' walkn campfire.
BARMAID! WUH-E'RE IN NEED F' CARDS! he suddenly yelled out. He wasn't subtle. He was drunk, overly excited and without his inhibitions.
Leaning forward, he moved closer to Sithiel, ominously replying with Yer'on.
Throwing himself back into his chair, Brik waited for the Barmaid to bring the cards to the table and gave a little chuckle to the Grippli's comments.
I'm clearly dreaming. We have a talking frog AND a human shaped campfire. G+# d@!n it, where the hell do I dream this stuff up. Absinthe? Absinthe did this to me! Oh look, I can think straight....kinda.
Frog friend! he said with excitement. Surely tha's tha greatest part erbowt it? F' yer not awaaaaaare f' tha proberlums, then thay don' erxist!
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Sithiel may have been quick, but even drink wasn't enough to deter Brik from winning. With a keen eye, he waited for the opportune moment, before yelling SNAP!!! at the top of his lungs with the final match of many.
Gd game! Now, I'll take yer name n' th' strong'st Ale going.
The man seemed happy by his win, though a little surprised by how challenging his smaller opponent was.
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W-w-waa-wait! She m-means ah hot Saké! Something t' warm me stummuck! he quickly yells, in an attempt to correct the Halflings clear intention in taking advantage of the drunk. She said she'd buy him a drink. She just didn't say what and Brik was too drunk to iron out the finer rules behind the game.
The serving wench happily brings over a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
Janira pulls out a large leather-bound journal and opens it on
the table. [/b] “Before we set out, we should all get to know each
other and review our plan. After all, the most important factors
that determine whether an expedition will be a success are
cooperation and preparation! I’ll go first!” [/b]
“On to the details of the mission at hand,” Janira says with an
eager grin. “After reviewing my mission reports personally,
Master Shaine believes it is no coincidence that each time they
entered the caves it was during a full moon, so it is also no
coincidence that you have been called here now, just a day before
the moon is full again. We both believe that tomorrow night is
our best chance to find out why these caves are important and
what exactly the gillmen are doing in there.
“The caves we’ll be travelling to lie under the base of the
Kortos Mounts. We’ll need to spend every minute of daylight
possible to reach the caves by foot, crossing over the Cairnlands,
taking the paths to Diobel, and finally making our way through
the wilderness. With any luck we won’t run into any of the local
inhabitants. Once in the caves, we’ll need to work together to
explore and determine whether any gillman are present or have
been recently. Keep an eye out for any other clues that might
hint at the caves’ significance, too.”
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No matter how drunk he was, he wasn't the type to turn down a drink, alcoholic or not. It was more a case of not wanting to offend than anything.
As the Wench brought the hot drink over, his excitement at the thought of Saké turned into bitter disappointment as he swirled the mug around, watching as the milk chocolatey drink splooshed around inside.
F' ya saw th' size'o'me keg back at 'ome, ya'd b 'mpressed.
Watching on as Azora's patience grew thin, Brik grimaced but downed the drink regardless, realising it was time to make a move.
The drink was sweet enough, but either from drinking it too fast or a bad case of curdling, the boisterous man tried to hold the contents of his stomach back, but it simply didn't agree with him as he quickly turned away from the table, spewing all over the floor between himself and Sithiel.
See, thes nuh rush! Why'd ya do tha't'me? Bah, caern a guy work N drnk? He asked loudly, overhearing Janira's speech mid-spew.
Drunkenly clambering to his feet, he then left the table, accidentally kicking his own chair on the way around and made his way over to Janira.
W-when d'we leave? he asked, hiccing between words, before instantly climbing a table and announcing to all onlookers Mah plan o'action's ta drink, but if s'essential, arl leev now n' sober-up along th' way!
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Sithiel feels guilty about the spill. She thought she was rather clever, but now she's not so sure.
Focusing on the task at hand, she thinks out loud, "gillmen...full moon...weresharks?" She's never heard of such a thing, but she's already seen a lot today she's never heard of before.
A bit louder, and directly to Janira, she asks, "local
inhabitants?"