Let's see if this is any better.
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Your first thought when you see Boolar is "Ow my eyes!" and your second is that he can't be colorblind because no one can put together something that ugly by mistake. He is wearing normal clothes that are clearly well crafted but the pieces are bright, colorful, and have clashing eye-watering designs on them. Boolar himself isn't easy on the eyes either. He is a short scrawny Varisian man and he's holding a fluffy rabbit.
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Welby, a halfling farmer, looks slightly uncomfortable with the other better-armed folk. His avian eidolon, Vander, a duck-like creature that's almost as large as the halfling is next to him.
"I'm missing the farm already... I should be shoveling straw and wattling," he tells Vander. The duck cranes its neck a couple of times, head held high and proud.
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Lyra Cole, a young, beige blond-haired Half-Elf dressed in a studded leather tunic, and a grey-green hooded cloak, stand idly in the corner, inspecting the new folk she's just met. She cringes and her eyes start to water as she glances at the scrawny Varisian with the colorful but horrendous sense of fashion, but she can't help but slightly giggle at the tiny, anxious-looking Halfling with the giant duck.
Lyra herself seems rather prepared for whatever task laid ahead of her, as she held a giant leather backpack filled to the brim with adventuring gear, books of lore, and worthless junk. On her sides, two double-edged longknives with 1 and a half foot long blades and U-shaped hilts sat in their black leather sheaths, and she held a elegant flame-bladed sword rapier of Chelish design on her back. leaning back into her corner, she took out a copper penny and anxiously twirled it in her hand, waiting to introduce herself at the right moment.
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A prim and proper Taldan woman enters. A breeze swirls around her constantly, ruffling the fringes of her clothes and her carefully coiffed hair. When she speaks, her voice betrays her true nature: wispy, effervescent- almost carbonated. "Good day to you all. I am Mavyn and I am excited to begin this journey with you." She doesn't really seem that eager but it's hard to tell.
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This tengu's feathers are a tawny deep gold. Her sharp brow gives her a severe, hawkish look. While she wears a sheath of throwing spears, they appear unused. Instead, her claws and beak show the chips and wear of battle. Though she wears a chain shirt, she leaves her wings unrestrained.
She kneels down, holding up a curled claw in a dramatic pose, as if she held a skull. She speaks with a resonant, faux-heroic voice one might expect of an actor on the stage.
"Lo and behold, the benighted knight. She stands before you, having risen again from most terrible melancholia, to fight to regain her honor, and perhaps the favor of lovely lady."
She suddenly stands tall and throws out her arm.
"Know that she is Goldenshrike, the Once-Lost Knight of the Dawn Eagle, and she shall fight against even the most powerful of enemies in the name of hope."
She relaxes her posture, her choreographed introduction at its end, and clears her throat.
"Ahem...Goldenshrike is pleased to meet you all and looks forward to questing with you."
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Roldala is solidly built, but seems somehow gangly, her arms and legs too long, her feet and hands too big even for her robust frame. It's hard to tell quite how tall she is too; she walks around hunched forward, eyes darting from person to person as if each time they speak it could be some kind of attack. Her mouth twists painfully around irregular jagged tusks as she introduces herself simply.
Roldala. She thumps her chest in between the spikes as punctuation.
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Smiling, Lyra quickly pops out of her corner to greet her new partners in arms.
{b]Greetings, fellow travelers![/b] Her loud, energetic voice seems to startle those around her, but she doesn't seem to notice. I am Lyra Cole, of the River Kingdoms, daughter of Roslin and Lindon Cole, two traveling merchants you've probably never heard of. She is clearly very hyperactive, as she's having a hard time standing still, and can't focus on only one of her compatriots as a time, as her large, amber eyes dart from person to person.
She clears her throat, and rests her hands on the pommels of the blades on her hips. Anyway, I hope that my skills in the use of these longknives shall be of use against whatever challenges lie ahead of us!
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A large half-orc enters the room, standing at 6’4 feet tall with a large bulky frame. His skin is dark blackish green, with slightly pointed ears and thick brows. Most striking are his huge, sharp tusks that protrude from his lower jaw, and the symbol of a burning flame on the chest piece of his armor.
He looks around the room once, before clearing his throat and speaking in a deep, guttural tone
"Greetings friends, I'm Orgrim, servant of Ragathiel. I look forward to our time together"
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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Welby and Vander follow. "This looks like a nice place, Vander. Maybe they'll have some meat pie and mead... and don't you go charging forth again, you hear me?"
In the tavern, Welby feels out of place. "They should really open up some windows and let the place breathe." he coughs. Vander strides boldly ahead.
Welby looks up at the man standing on the table. "Mm... does the innkeep allow this? Wouldn't it ruin the furniture?" Vander gives Welby a look and the halfling quietens down, though his nervousness is still palpable.
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Lyra follows behind Welby with a slight skip in her step, humming a jolly tune under her breath. As she enters the tavern, she begins to cough loudly as she scent of human sweat and tobacco, odors that Lyra's especially sensitive to, fills her lungs. "Y-yeah, you're right Welby, this p-place reeks!"
After a second or two of wheezing, Lyra stands up defiantly with her hands on her hips, as if nothing had ever happened. Dusting off a bit of soot that found itself onto her tunic, She looks up at the Elven man standing tall over her on the table, and silently waves her hand towards him, waiting to see if he had anything to say towards these newcomers.
I remember seeing this elf around the Grand Lodge a few times, I think he's called Kreighton, or something like that. Odd name for an Elf. What I do know is that he's the Society's Master of Scrolls, and he's most certainty the one who sent us those invitations.
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Orgrim enters the inn and takes a deep breath, soaking in the various smells within the Inn "The Pig's Paunch eh? Not a bad name...might grab a plate of grub while I'm here"
However, while looking around for someone who can bring any food, the sight of the elven man standing upon the table catches his eye Here now, this man looks familiar...
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Everyone's so tall, Welby thinks. He moves himself behind the half-orcs. He tries not to shake in fear at the sight of them. The frog thing seems friendly at least, but Welby has always liked frogs. Toads, not so much...
We're really doing this Vander? Oh.. what's that? You want to be called Drake? Because of the dragon blood in your veins? Oh.. fine, fine. This is like a dress up competition for you taken to the extreme, isn't it? Welby says to his duck.
Welby shuffles around, looking for a better spot to see the elven man. Drake/Vander struts around proudly as if it's just won a prize at a fair.
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Lyra turned towards the quarrelsome Sylph and Half-Orc, and sighed. She had a feeling that her companions would fight with each other, as they had done during many of her training missions, but she saw little point in getting involved herself. That usually just made it worst.
Sitting down at a table next to the one the Elven man was standing on, she grabbed a bottle of ale from her backpack, and poured it into her lidded tankard, swatting away the hand of a greedy drunk next to her who had reached for her mug. She turned towards the elf on the table, and took a sip, waiting to see what he had to say.
"“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, a Halfling speaks up
“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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Welby orders an ale as well. I deserve one, after putting up with all that training the past few months!
After listening to the Master of Scrolls, he can't help himself but blurt out. "Mayhap they left the cave? It was a meeting point for them to gather together and pick seashells?"
Drake swings around to stare at him and quacks something.
"Fine, fine, but I don't see why they should be up to no good. Must we always make assumptions? They really might just be having tea and a nice chat about the weather or sea tides," he says with a sigh.
"And do remember the part about coming back alive," he says to Drake. He raises his ale to Glok and admits that is a fine liquor.
"Are we leaving now? Or tomorrow? Mm...does this tavern have biscuits?"
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Orgrim stares as Krieghton Shaine walks out then speaks aloud to himself "Strange chap isn't he?" Mindful he may be seen as criticizing a Master, Orgrim clears his throat and quickly turn his attention to Janira "So lady Janira, could you tell us a little more about these foothills? And do you think the gillmen are up to anything suspicious?"
One at a time, one at a time the Halfling states. Your questions will be answered there is hint of happiness in her response.
Let's see, the foothills. “Centaurs control the lowlands and surrounding wilderness of the
Kortos Mounts. The areas farther up the Mounts are
controlled by minotaurs, and the icy peaks are home to
tribes of harpies. They’re always vying for territory, but
with any luck, we should be able to avoid them and reach
the caves without conflict.”
“There’s always the chance we may run into bandits
along the way, and there are dozens of kinds of predators
in that forest. That’s why we should always be as prepared as possible.
Now about the gillmen she continues Gillmen are the remnants of a race of surface-dwelling humanoids whose homeland was drowned in a great cataclysm at the hands of the aboleth. The aboleths rescued a few survivors, warping them into an amphibious race to serve as emissaries to the surface world. Modern gillmen remain reclusive and suspicious, scarred by both the loss of their ancient heritage and the sure knowledge that aboleths do nothing without expecting to profit from it. Physically gillmen have expressive brows, pale skin, dark hair, and bright purple eyes. Three slim gills mark each side of their necks, near the shoulder, but they are otherwise close enough in appearance to humans that they can pass as such (for a time) without fear of detection.
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Lyra turns towards Orgrim, and shrugs "I dunno, Probably not. I'm not familiar with Gillmen, but if they were truly plotting something sinister, we'd probably know more about it by now, judging by how the other denizens of the Kortos Mounds aren't exactly very subtle about their hatred towards us."
She takes another sip of her Ale as she continues "I've heard stories of travelers being kidnapped by harpies and other monsters around the Mounds. Some even say that they're sacrificed to whatever Demon Lord is Flavor of the Month around there. If the Gillmen are doing something similar, we'd have reports of disappearances around that cave system that are linked to Gillmen, which we don't."
She stands up as she addresses all of her companions. "I doubt we'll have much to worry about, but we should still try to be careful. I doubt these denizens would take very kindly to trespassers, like anyone would." She turns towards Janira, and raises her right hand "But seriously, Miss Janira, what exactly is a Gillman? The name rings a bell from a few history books I read as a child, but I can't remember anything concrete about them. I think we outta know what exactly we're dealing with here, just in case we have to deal with them."
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"Minotaurs? Centaurs? T-They're real?" Welby says. Drake nods his head. The duck dips his head into Welby's mug and gulps down the rest.
The halfling gets off the stool and checks his backpack and pouch, leaving a small tip for the waiter. "W-We are ready to set off, I suppose."
Before they proceed, Welby whispers to Drake. "Pss... what's an aboleth? And gillmen are men with like fish heads?"
The Halfling will tell the group If you need anything now is probably the best time to go and get it. We cant get provisions in the middle of the forest. she says.
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"Mmm, fascinating!" Lyra now seems genuinely intrigued by her new mission. "I had a feeling that the Gillmen had something to do with the Azlant from what I remember reading about them, but I had no idea they were connected to Aboleths themselves." She takes one last sip from her mug, and rises out of her seat, adjusting her heavy leather backpack hanging on her shoulders.
"Well, I don't know about all you, but I'm set to go. I presume that we all have enough food and previsions for the road, right?"
Janira notices the duck creature. She inquires about it to her fellow Halfling How did you come by such a fascinating creature she says digging into her back for some bread to give the duck.
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Janira notices the duck creature. She inquires about it to her fellow Halfling How did you come by such a fascinating creature she says digging into her back for some bread to give the duck.
"Well Vanda, I mean Drake, has been with me since I was a child. We grew up together and folks just thought he was some special breed that lived longer than most. Then two months ago he starts... talking to me in my head and telling me about a goblin attack on my village. Did my best to stop it and we helped get most of the halflings out but couldn't save the village. I learn he's some Eilo.. Eido... creature whose fate is tied to me and that I have magical powers or something.
After that, we've been wandering and Drake here says he wants to seek his destiny and join the Society, but I don't think fowl are allowed. So I've joined and I'm accompanying him..." Welby says. Drake nods periodically throughout the story while munching on the offered bread.