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A little gnome rushes into the room, completely breathless. Purple highlights in her hair slowly change colour as she jumps onto the bar top.
"Yo... you experienced.. yes.. experienced pathfinders. There is an ancient ship turned up in the harbour. Made of CRYSTAL. It glitters amazingly. Or so I hear. Anyway, Venture-Captain Adril Hestram is coming, and he needs a team to go explore it."
^ You might want to give the name of the scenario!
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A tall man with perfect teeth and even more perfect hair detaches himself from where he has been lounging against a wall. He crosses over to Prism, twirling a fancy silver rod tipped with a sapphire in one hand. Dropping casually into a nearby chair he smiles at the gnome, a crystalline ship sitting in the harbour you say, experienced pathfinders needed for exploration and adventure...well you are in luck, it just so happens I am currently between engagements, you can let Adril know that my talents are at his disposal. Just say the word.
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The sound of honest laughter bubbles up like fresh water from a spring in one tastefully dim corner of the tavern.
"And she said: Simple, it's turtles all the way down." The the speaker’s dry, masculine delivery provoked another round of laugher from people seated around him.
It was growing late though, and at last the greater bulk of people got up and said their goodbyes. Leaving the interesting man, and a young halfling woman sitting at the large table alone.
The halfling had her elbows on the table, small fists buttressing her chin. Her legs, dangling kicked idly at the air beneath her chair.
"What's wrong Janira?" Asked the man smiling. His eyes crinkled at the corners with genuine affection. He was paying for his departed friends’ drinks with coins seemingly pulled from thin air, and the serving girl's ears. The serving girl giggled.
"I've got to head out in a couple of days for the Kortos Mounts. I'm supposed to be taking a bunch of Society initiates with me, to check up on that—" Janira stops and gives a quick look around. "...that activity I noted in my report a couple of months back. The Master of Scrolls, Dean Shaine, wants to use the trip as their Confirmation. I guess the Lodge is sort of desperate to push initiates into the ranks after all that trouble with their Rose Garden time contraption, and the flair up at the World Wound, and all the recent tangles with the Consortium. I'm not sure I want to be responsible for a bunch of novice treasure hunters who've never set foot out of the Lodge."
A young halfling runner enters the lodge at a trot yelling, ”Urgent missive from Karcau! Lady Kalistoff needs our best in Ustalav.”
He waves a perfumed letter in the air, then pins it to the notice board.
Signed,
Venture-Captain Basia Kalistoff
The halfling grabs six of the nearest loitering Pathfinders and rushes them out the door. "Get going! Get going! You don't want to miss the carriage!"
Faeranduil ( Megabeus )
Omar Senay ( BretI )
Vrald Sehir ( Aerondor )
Lurgh ( Michael Hallet )
Garinol ( DM Beckett )
Zahra Senay ( Hmm )
A Taldane man in drab livery, sporting bold sideburns, enters the Flaxseed common room. He takes the stage, coughs for attention and unfolds a parchment. "Hear ye, Hear ye," he calls with a very nasal voice before reading from the parchment in droning voice.
"Pathfinders. The Decemvirate requests a few of its agents - new recruits will do - to travel to Andoran." The man snickers slightly before continuing. "There is reason to believe that opportunity will present itself for a team of keen investigators. Please do not ask me for details, they haven't been shared with me." In a low voice, he mutters to himself "Have they ever...?" With a look at his parchment and a small cough to catch himself, he continues. "Agents interested are requested to report to the Cathedral of Aroden in Almas. Please note that this position comes recommended by Major Colson Maldris and Lady Gloriana Morilla in particular." In the same droning voice, the man concludes. "Thank you for your attention. Have a nice evening. I would add a suggestion not to forget the messenger, but everyone always does..." Without waiting for reactions, he leaves the room.
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A tall, muscular, red-haired half-elf with a booming voice and a rubber chicken tucked at his belt strides into the lodge grinning.
"Say, did you all hear about the fire in the Varisian circus?"
He pauses, expectantly-- though only for a few seconds, he's had his punchlines robbed out from under him before-- and answers his own question loudly.
"...ahem. Anyway! I'm looking for young agents, new to this lodge, eager to test their teeth! And also their feet, and hands, and various other body parts. Ah but not those body parts, it's not THAT sort of mission. Er... I sort of forgot where I was going with this... OH, RIGHT:
"The lucky agents will get to travel to my adopted country of ANDORAN, home of LIBERTY and FREEDOM, for a bracing trek into the WOODS. It should be very HEALTHY. Good clean Andoran air! Free of the taint of slavery and devil-worship! Sign up today!"
He tacks a parchment to the messageboard, waving a hand for the eager junior agents to sign up.
The man with the bold sideburns returns to the Flaxseed Lodge after a short while, again taking the stage. "Hear ye, hear ye," he starts without much enthusiasm in his nasal monotone. "I have the pleasure of announcing who have been selected for travel to Almas. Will the following Pathfinder agents please make their way to Andoran: Keladry, Mutahir Hashem, Amahl "The Fat" Bishankar, Frankie, Yanda, Shera Dionas." He gives the slightest nod to his audience. "Please try not to get yourself killed..." With that for good luck, he leaves the common room.
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A very short balding gentleman in red robes walks into the bar and orders a club soda.
Pathfinders, the time has come to set foot into a different world. A land of different cultures and ancient wisdom. The land of....Tian Xia!"
The red-robed man addresses a fellow patron. "Yeah, people always say that I look like someone they know..."
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A little gnome rushes into the room, completely breathless. Purple highlights in her hair slowly change color as she jumps onto the bar top.
"Yo... you experienced.. yes.. experienced pathfinders. There is an ancient ship turned up in the harbor. Made of CRYSTAL. It glitters amazingly. Or so I hear. Anyway, Venture-Captain Adril Hestram is coming, and he needs a team to go explore it."
"What? The name of the boat?"
Prisim blushes.
"Oh yeah... the boat is called The King Xeros. It is of Old Azlant design."
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A powerful cleric of Sarenrae enters the Lodge. He's bedecked with jewells, as a collection of stones flit about his head. He takes a few moments to say hello to people with earnest joy. When he turns to the room at large, his eyes close ever so slightly, "I am in need of agents who are neither green nor faint of heart. I have a mission for thee, which will take every minute of your training and experience and put it to the test."
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Sareth oddly draws forth a deck. At first glance it looks like a Harrow deck, but it's a more common deck of simple playing cards. He deals one card each to a half dozen agents who look like they've seen a lot of action over the years.
"Here's your invite. Head over to the Grog Pit when you're ready."
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A slender tien woman walks to the recruitment board. "It looks as if Drendle Dreng hasn't scooped up all of the newly minted Pathfinders yet. I am on my way back to Tian Xia, and Amara Li herself requested the aid of the society!"
After tacking a perfumed square of pink paper to the board, she has a seat at a long table near the board.
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Been some time since i ha e joind a game can someone please sign me up oh and if its a level 2 game ^_;
-Posted with Wayfinder
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A Tien-Min woman in full-plate--the spitting image of Iomedae right down to the scowl--steps forward and jots down her name. Her eyes are golden pools, glowing with a constant, harsh light.
She kneels down afterwards and produces parchment, an inkwell, and ink. She begins writing:
"Perfumed pink paper
A list of eager names
Which of them will die?"
Once it dries, she packs away each of the items in the reverse order to how she retrieved them. She stands and folds her arms, just as she had before.
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"It looks like I have plenty of Pathfinders to choose from! Perhaps I will bring all of you, and see what works best for Amara Li"
"Nergi Khalka, Ando, Xiao Qingwa, Ayo, Ignaru Li, and Tenibri: You will be staying in the port cabin of our ship."
"Mythryndyr, Skaf, Boolar Rejic, Abolt Greenseed, Kita Kyuichi, and Yidric Belove: You will be staying in the starboard cabin."
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A large Taldan man, his house crest emblazoned on his tabard, steps through the front door, a look of disdain on his face.
"Listen up you incompetent curs!" he bellows. "I have word from Venture-Captains Balentiir and van Schuyver, that they're both looking for teams for a set of expeditions. Balentiir wants to send Pathfinders into the Hold of Belkzen, while van Schuyver needs a cleric smuggled into Rahadoum. Any of you lot up for the task?"
"Listen up you incompetent curs!" he bellows. "I have word from Venture-Captains Balentiir and van Schuyver, that they're both looking for teams for a set of expeditions. Balentiir wants to send Pathfinders into the Hold of Belkzen, while van Schuyver needs a cleric smuggled into Rahadoum. Any of you lot up for the task?"
Three pathfinders stand up from the same table, looking at each other "Hmmm, seems like one of us needs to stay here and pick up the tab. That probably will be you Deaglan, you move the slowest of us three!"
The dwarf gives the elf a good natured punch on the shoulder while the human checks her Aldori sword.
"Let's see who is called for this..."
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The bear-like talden surveys the chaotic jumble of eager agents before him and sighs dramatically.
"Fine, you'll do..."
He points out his six choices and gestures to the the door.
"Venture-Captain van Schuyver is awaiting you aboard his ship, the Maelstrom, ready to sail west at the earliest opportunity. Don't keep him waiting!"
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Overwhelmed by the sudden influx of idle Pathfinders, Troels slams his mailed fist on a table to regain some order.
"Quit your clamoring! Venture-Captain Balentiir has only provided travel accommodations for six agents, so you can't all tag along. You, you, you and the three of you, pack your bags; you're heading north, up the Sellen River. The rest of you can go back to whatever rowdy business my glorious presence tore you away from."
His task completed, he then stomps out the main entrance.
Dammit missed out on a long game...i need to check the borads more often
-Posted with Wayfinder
I missed a chance at Echoes? One of the few games I don't have in Season 1. Rats.
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A half-elf of striking statue and a flair for the melodramatic literally flies into the Flaxseed Lodge. From his back flap a pair of angelic wings of pure white. His smile and winks are considerably less pure.
"Greetings my fellow adventurers! Before you retire to your parties and celebrations for the weekend, I'd like to recruit a few of you. I have a mission that has been gathering dust upon my desk for some time. It's not for the feint of heart, but they rarely are."
The half-elf gets distracted with his normal carousing. "Strange, I just got the strongest feeling of déjà vu." He shakes his head and checks his ioun stones before continuing.
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A disheveled kitsune enters the room, walking on a tall banner like a crutch. "Pardon me. I doubt - I doubt any of you know me, but my name is Draklor, and I spread the word of Irori," he says meekly, not looking for silence before starting. "I was Confirmed several hours ago, upon returning to the Lodge successfully. I was one of the two Pathfinders to do so, of the six who left with us. Two, Gregor the Wholesome and Janira Gavix, our mentor, fell to a minotaur. A nagaji, Ickeckess, was brought down by skeletons. Finally, Ajaline the elf was brutally killed and subsequently dissolved by a gelatinous cube. While the Society still reels from the fate of Brother Grimdoc, I believe we must acknowledge the sacrifices of lower agents as well. Of the four slain that day, only Janira, a senior agent, will likely have the resources and favors to return, at which point she will continue to ferry agents from Confirmation to glory. A feat which I attend to achieve, in the name of my fallen friends!" His voice grows stronger as he continues, ending in a triumphant roar audible throughout the tavern. He then proposes numerous toasts to the deceased.
Several drinks later, he seems to remember another reason he is here. "Oh, yes, and a newly minted VC asked me to tell people here. He is assembling a team of six Pathfinders to investigate a problem some ex-Pathfinder has been having. Something about sleepwalking...Anyway, the team will muster at the Lodge and depart for a cabin near the Fenwall Mountains in Varisia. Good luck, Pathfinders!"
A disheveled kitsune enters the room, walking on a tall banner like a crutch. "Pardon me. I doubt - I doubt any of you know me, but my name is Draklor, and I spread the word of Irori," he says meekly, not looking for silence before starting. "I was Confirmed several hours ago, upon returning to the Lodge successfully. I was one of the two Pathfinders to do so, of the six who left with us. Two, Gregor the Wholesome and Janira Gavix, our mentor, fell to a minotaur. A nagaji, Ickeckess, was brought down by skeletons. Finally, Ajaline the elf was brutally killed and subsequently dissolved by a gelatinous cube. While the Society still reels from the fate of Brother Grimdoc, I believe we must acknowledge the sacrifices of lower agents as well. Of the four slain that day, only Janira, a senior agent, will likely have the resources and favors to return, at which point she will continue to ferry agents from Confirmation to glory. A feat which I attend to achieve, in the name of my fallen friends!" His voice grows stronger as he continues, ending in a triumphant roar audible throughout the tavern. He then proposes numerous toasts to the deceased.
" Uh, I mean, that's so sad. My heart goes out to the yadda, yadda, well, you know what I mean." The mysterious half-orc takes a swig of grog--someone else's grog.
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A pale, half-elven woman who had been sitting quietly in the corner and poring over some notes looks up sharply as the kitsune rattles off the names of the dead.
"Ajaline, you say? I..." she pauses, clearly trying to decide on the words she wants to use. "I worked with him, back during that business with the Sky Key. He was a competent agent and of a generally-agreeable disposition."
She bows her head. "I am sorry to hear of his passing."
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A brash looking halfling sits on a stool near the bar, and his head turns towards Draklor at the mention of Ajaline.
"Huh, what was that name, Ajaline?
A wizard acquaintence of mine worked with an elf, named Ajaline.
What did he look like? If they are the same person, i'll have to break the bad news o him, next time we meet."
He shakes his head.
"Dissolved by a flan...that's no way to go. My sympathies."
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A stoic half-orc sitting alone at a table calmly cracks his knuckles as he overhears the news. "Hmph. Ajaline. Never did like the guy much," Zavubak mutters to himself, then sighs as he thinks back to his travels through time alongside the elf. Searching for the Sky Key, investigating an ancient Azlantian city, and stopping Lady Arodeth. As much as they disagreed, the two shared an eager and serious regard for their duties. "Fine. I guess he was pretty resourceful. No one deserves to be dissolved by a cube. What a way to go. I am sure his deeds and service to the Society will not be forgotten."
