The Fountain of Bethesda (Inactive)

Game Master TheBobJones

As the others prepare themselves to leave the tavern, Gwendolyn picks up her pack and steps closer to the still form of Paralictor Halst. As she approaches the man, presumably the verge of passing out in a stupor, she leans in closer and recalls the barman's odd story of the Paralictor.

"He does this once every year. And always on this day. Never seen him touch a drop to his lips otherwise. And none of the other barkeeps seen him drink either. Why here, why now? No idea. But best you all head out the back before his cronies show up."

What is it about this day, she thinks to herself, gazing at Halst's face. Are you attempting to fool us or did something terrible happen in your life on this day. As the thoughts occur to Gwen, she cannot help question why they should cross paths with this man on the one day each year he should act so singularly peculiar.

Following along with the group, Gwendolyn struggles slightly to keep pace with the larger companions, especially the long, lunging stride of Benaiah. She does her best to respond to Arimar while keeping her words private to the group. "I don't know if this will make things better or worse," she begins, looking up toward Arimar, the curled ends of her flowing hair bouncing with each step. "But my initial intention was to learn more of Mistress Lanvi, and I only happened upon the trail of you three because of this."

"And master Arimar," she adds with a hint of playfulness lining her tone. "You might be surprised that you do know of Mistress Lanvi's daughter... You've met, in fact."

"Mistress Lanvi keeps a personal retainer close at almost all times, even on her travels. To most she would look like naught more than a handmaiden... But Lanvi's daughter and this handmaiden... they are one and the same."

"Well that explains a lot," Arimar grins, remembering the time Benaiah struck out with the handmaiden, "Don't worry Benaiah, I didn't mind sharing. It seems that no matter what we do with Lanvi, we attract all kinds of attention. Let's hope this is for the better.

"Anyway, Gwendolyn, that still doesn't explain what you want from us? And while you're at it," Arimar purses his lips, "Why were you interested in Lanvi in the first place?"

Looking back to Arimar, the halfling walks for a moment without speaking, it seems clear she is choosing her words carefully, or rather, debating how much her words should reveal to these relative strangers. "There are many organizations, people, and factions spread far and wide throughout the world, far flung to every corner of the map and in every nation... for such entities, their sole purpose is to gather and trade in information... making a currency of secrets," she speaks, hoping to call up thoughts of the vastness and complexity of dealing with such forces that thrive on knowledge, something these travelers must already be all too familiar with after having dealt with Mistress Lanvi.

"I am, or hope to be, one such tiny cog in the otherwise complex machine that is the information business," she says now, her tone serious. "And to start on this journey, I'm looking to help you and your companions by selling this bit of information about Lanvi's daughter. It would be up to you, how you use such information in your dealings with the Mistress."

Looking side to side, she cranes her neck to scan their surroundings once more for any sign of someone watching. "Or... if a straight exchange of gold is not to your liking... then I'd propose you allow me to join with you in your dealings with Lanvi... as I'm sure such an act would yield all manner of useful knowledge to trade..."

Malgrim eagerly takes the exit offered to them, grateful that he doesn't have to resort to the somewhat risky plan of starting a bar brawl by flinging a drunken patron's earthenware flagon of ale at another. He does, however, keep that escape route planned in the back of his head should the need arise in the future.

The hobgoblin listens with interest as Arimar and the halfling talk, keeping an eye out for pursuing humans as they leave the tavern. "There is much that Mistress Lavni has not told us. I am sure that the identity of her handmaiden is only the peak of the mountain. I believe we would be interested in any information that would offer an advantage in our dealings." He pauses, a sad note in his voice. "And yet, if information is a currency, I will offer you a free warning that our company is not without its share of dangers. Even beyond the collateral peril being associated with the mistress has caused, we have had more than our share of loss of late."

"Yeah, I guess it should come as no surprise that she makes a servant out of her daughter," Arimar sneers, agreeing with Malgrim, "Nor that she endangers her child at every turn by bringing her child with her." Arimar shakes his head as though to get the negative thoughts out before moving on.

"So," he begins anew, "Would you only be willing to join us if we deal with Lanvi? Because we've got several opportunities on the table. Our numbers, it seems, have been reduced yet again. First it was Olmstead, then Caerador, then Keoki. Admittedly, none have died that we know of, but being the fourth wheel of our mercenary cart is not the safest place to be. We do need more help, more than we need to part with our gold.

"More to the point, what skills can you provide? You're adept at spying, that much is clear," the man favors Gwendolyn with another wry grin, "But what else do you bring to the table?"

"Thank you for the concern, Malgrim," the halfling pipes up, placing her hand gently on the hobgoblin's arms, and thanking him sincerely. "Though I may truly know little of you and your companions, one thing which has seemed clear enough is that you lead a life of danger and excitement." After she has finished, the halfling walks along beside the Malgrim for a few steps further before turning to address Arimar.

"Though I readily admit, I would prefer to have dealings with Lanvi... So I might learn more about her, why she is actually here in this city, and how far her reach indeed stretches," Gwendolyn continues on, moving a few quick steps on her comparatively short legs, and ends beside the aasimar. "But I have to imagine that an exciting, adventure bound life such as you all lead will turn up its own supply of secrets which I might hope to trade."

"As to what I can offer you and your friends?" she says the words aloud as if it were a question posed to herself. It also seems as though this might be the first time she was considering for herself why the others would even be open to the idea of taking her along, as if she had not thought of what she could offer to benefit them. "Well... I can be quite convincing, should the need arise, and I've always had a knack for seeing into people's true intentions." Thinking a bit more, she shifts the backpack slung over her shoulder. "I also know my way around a few spells. And though I have never made an effort to train on the messy ones that directly hurt others, I can certainly help by making you all stronger, more focused, more skilled, and... help you resist the charms and machinations of others..."

Though hopefully still susceptible to my charms, she does not say aloud.

"Plus, I've been known to play a charming violin," she adds with a laugh, reaching over her shoulder and patting the backpack, thereby implying the hidden location of her instrument. "So at the very least you'd be kept in the company of relaxing melodies..."

Quickly she steps ahead of the group, then stops abruptly, turning to face the cluster of men head-on. "Now, if you think I'll be enough of a benefit to your crew... and you promise to do your best to keep me safe... We can discuss tracking down Lanvi's daughter," Gwendolyn speaks these words in a half pleading, half joking tone. However, when she speaks next, the halfling cannot suppress and beaming, ear to ear smile, and her voice fills with obvious michevious intent. "For if we're going to learn the rest of the handmaiden's tale, I need to know that you three are all right sneaking into a swanky, high society party that we will absolutely not have a legitimate invitation to..."

Malgrim raises an eyebrow. "Sneaking I am versed in, however, swanky and high society are two things that I cannot pretend to have experienced..."

He shrugs. Regardless, if that is the place we are required to go, I am sure that we can overcome such a hurdle. Keeping Benaiah on his best behavior... that might be more challenging."[/b]

"I have long hidden myself among others, and can probably manage to do well sneaking into the party," Arimar notes, "But I agree with Malgrim on his assessment of his and Benaiah's chances. Not so good... perhaps as hired muscle, if it's the kind of affair that allows you to bring such people into the party...? They are, after all, actually muscle for hire."

Arimar scratches his chin thoughtfully, "Why exactly do we need to know about Lanvi's daughter anyway? And why do all four of us need to come? Expecting trouble?"

The necromancer sighs and remembers their activities and offers over last day or so, "We cannot keep you safe, and nor can I see any benefit to knowing about Lanvi's handmaiden - certainly not enough to pay you for it. However, if you agree to come along with us, we will certainly try to keep you safe, in exchange for an equal share of the work... and you'll also get an equal share of the pay. Which brings me to another matter, the offers we've had on our plate lately."

Arimar is especially careful that no-one is listening, as he - surprisingly candidly - relates the three offers they've had so far. "Benaiah and I seem to be leaning towards helping out the Sarenites," he adds after concluding the list and description of offers, "But could be persuaded to go another way. To our mind, being able to promise Lanvi a cure for her cough would allow us to have one thing over on her, and simultaneously severe her obligation to the Collector. Moreover, we will then have a much more reliable business partner. In order to actually use that leverage, we will of course need to tell her of the plan in advance. We'll restore the pool, it'll be up to her to secure entry - the Sarenites are being very... even about who gets let in.

"So, what do you think, Gwendolyn? For that matter, where are you leaning, Malgrim?"

Benaiah continues looking back over his shoulders, mulling over the words of the barkeep in reference to Halst's drunken display, clearly consumed by the implications.

What the hell makes a man who never drinks get so sloshed on the same day every year? And how do I use that to my advantage?

He finally breaks his silence as they continue to walk and discuss, the conversation of the swanky party catching his attention.

"My father and mother used to throw huge galas all the time. It was expected in the Hellknight order. The heirarchy was a political pandering and scheming place, as beaurocratic as anything in any other governmental machine. The parties were a status symbol. The more extravagant, the more important you must be. A party like this is something I am accustomed to. How we get in, I would not know. But how to act and blend in? I am certain that I could at least not screw it up." He says, in case the perception of the alternative might change their decision.

"As far as Lanvi's daughter is concerned, I did know who she was. If I forgot to mention it, I apologize," he offers, only slightly sheepishly, "She told me when she ran away from me. Come to think of it, I think my display of prowess on the Hadozee ship might be affecting her perception of me..." He shakes off the uncomfortable rejection he received from the handmaiden.

"I agree with Arimar. I have no interest in paying for information about Lanvi's daughter, especially if I have no idea what it might be, and how we might turn that into a profit. Working along side of you though," Benaiah trails off, in reality for half a heartbeat, but in his mind it feels like minutes. Visions of halflings born into slavery in and around his household cloud his memories. He grew up with slaves all of his life, the thought of owning another being never caused him concern before. There was no frame of reference that someone would want to be free. It was their station, as it was his station to be part of the aristocracy.

The term slip, as Halst had reminded him, was like second nature to him. However, seeing this female halfling here, so coy and charming, yet clearly with her own motivations, gave him pause on those thoughts. What made her different that she wasn't subject to slavery, and those others were?

For a moment, Benaiah finds himself at odds with his upbringing, suddenly uncomfortable with the implications of slaves, slips, and broad stroke generalizations about a person based on heritage or race...

"Seems like a much better option." he finishes his thought with only a heartbeat of hesitation, hoping no one notices, or questions the pause.

"As to why we would want more information about the handmaiden? If our endgame of working with the Sarenites is to give us the upper hand in working with Lanvi, then perhaps learning more about her daughter would be another trump card to hold close to the vest." And might reveal a little more about this mysterious pint-sized vixen and her motivations.

Arimar scratches his chin thoughtfully, "Why exactly do we need to know about Lanvi's daughter anyway? And why do all four of us need to come? Expecting trouble?"

Turning first to Arimar, the halfling speaks up in a voice that seems more powerful and booming than her small, delicate frame should allow. "Why do you need to know about Lanvi's daughter?" Gwen repeats the question, and there is a hint of annoyance in her voice. "You don't need to do anything, and I'm not trying to force your hands."

"However, you speak of having one thing over on Lanvi," Gwendolyn continues, her voice calming now and returning its normal soothing and measured timbre. "This is precisely what I am proposing. It's true I don't know what information we'll fine about Lanvi's daughter at this party, but we may learn of threats and betrayals that already are forming in opposition to your former employer."

"For my part, I have not told you what I already know of the handmaiden and what I think she may be caught up in. And please don't misunderstand what I'm proposing. And you have my apologies if I have not been clear yet. Our intention, if we were to crash this upscale gathering, would not be to learn more about the handmaiden at all, but the risks the handmaiden may be placing upon her mother. Be it indirectly, or worse, with malign intent," the halfing continues on, clearly dancing around a subject that she does not yet want to divulge the details of just yet. "Lanvi's daughter has been busy, and she is sneaking around this city setting up meeting with some that would be considered direct rivals to her mother... And from what I can tell, Mistress Lanvi is unaware of these machinations."

"Though, as treacherous and calculating as Mistress Lanvi is, I have not dismissed the possibility that she may have intentionally created a self-styled spy... a double agent... in her daughter. But such delicate topics are better approached with care and investigation, than laying one's cards on the table before they even know the hand that has been dealt to them..."

"...and simultaneously severe her obligation to the Collector."

As the words escape from Arimar's mouth, the plucky halfling cannot help but be taken aback and stand speechless for a moment. After exhaling a knowing breath, she looks for a moment back and forth at the companions, as if she did not expect such a name to be uttered and as if its very presence had stunned her.

This must be why I was sent here... They had to have known the Collector was here and in dealings with Lanvi... This cannot be a coincidence... First that poor halfling and now Lanvi... Is this Collector behind everything? as quickly as the thoughts pass through her mind, Gwendolyn collects herself as if nothing had happened and continues on.

"So, what do you think, Gwendolyn?"

Having gathered her wits about her once more, she continues on in response to Armiar's final question. "I will follow you all, whatever you decide. We can deal with these Sarenites, if you desire."

You may just have to excuse me for one evening... she thinks, but only smiles to toward the keen and watchful eyes of Arimar. ...as there is a party I still may like to attend.

""I agree with Arimar. I have no interest in paying for information about Lanvi's daughter, especially if I have no idea what it might be, and how we might turn that into a profit. Working along side of you though," Benaiah trails off, in reality for half a heartbeat, but in his mind it feels like minutes. "Seems like a much better option."

"I will follow your lead," she nods and smiles to Benaiah then Arimar. "I just wanted you to be aware of the options laid out before you."

As her eyes pass over the towering form of Benaiah and then the slender form of Arimar, and her own keen eyes assess the pair with a (hopefully hidden) calculating intent. Perhaps, I'll have to work on controlling Malgrim first, she thinks, her lips parting into a smile at the duo. These two are stubborn... and strong willed.

"I think I'd like to go to the party, too," Arimar smiles, "But if the handmaiden will be there, we'll need disguises. She'll definitely recognize us. You are right, information is information. Where dealing with Lanvi is concerned, we need all we can get.

"So, friends, are we decided then?" Arimar asks as they strike a particularly quiet stretch of street, "No matter what, we are not going to the Plane of Shadow. We accept Lanvi's offer of partnership, but contingent upon restoring this pool first. We can sell that as it being helpful to her, and a way to release her of ties to the Collector. This shows strength, care for her her well being, our ability to choose our own direction - and also that we were able to discover that the Collector promised her a cure. We also then get to save Keoki, let us not forget.

"You see, Gwendolyn," Arimar favors her with another grin, "We do look after our own if we can. Just no promises of safety is all."

If everyone agrees, let's go to Lanvi's and discuss this with her - give our GM some work to do. ;-)

If everyone agrees, let's go to Lanvi's and discuss this with her - give our GM some work to do. ;-)

Ready and waiting

The Companions, minus Keoki, but with Gwen in tow, walk the clean Street of Taverns, head out of the Capital District and make their way towards the Alabaster District and Mistress Lanvi's mansion.

The Alabaster District is home to Magnimar's richest and most affluent citizens . Aristocrats , guild masters, and anyone rich enough to afford such a lifestyle dwell in the grandiose villas and mansions that line this district's streets , which also house the small armies of support staff each villa requires to maintain its decadence and splendor.

Reaching the familiar doors flanked by two hulking men, the doors are quickly opened as the Companions and Gwen are quickly ushered to Mistress Lanvi's study. More than a few of the house staff give Gwen looks out of the corners of their eyes, clearly curious, but knowing that gossip will quickly spread about the newcomer.

The Companions and Gwen wait an inordinately long time before Mistress Lanvi emerges. As always, she is dressed in tight fitting clothes which extenuates her womanly frame, while tantalizing the senses. A closer inspection reveals that a few of the buttons on the one side of her dress are either unhooked or hooked incorrectly. She hurriedly sits down before a coughing fit overtakes her. The Companions and Gwen wait patiently as she fishes.

She pounds her hand on the desk forcefully. "Thrice cursed sons of whores! I know, not the best curse given my profession. I should have listened more carefully to Barbosa's sailors. So I am quite busy at the moment. In less than an hour, Calistra willing, this house will be packed with patrons. What can I do for ... who is this?" she queries as if noticing Gwen for the first time. "And where pray tell is Keoki? Don't tell me you lost another fri ... member." she stumbles to categorize the Companions relationships.

Earlier:

Benaiah bobs his head in agreement with Arimar. "I do believe we are on the same page. Let's be honest, if we really do want to start our own information brokerage, in partnership with Lanvi, it would make sense to show some initiative of our own. The party sounds like a fantastic idea, and I agree with all of the details regarding the Sarenites pool, and its potential for a cure for the Mistress."

Present time:

Illusions of Grandeur were not something Benaiah was immune to. As the group walks along in agreement for their immediate direction, literally and figuratively, Benaiah begins to get lost in the magnificence of the houses of the Alabaster District.

I could see myself in one of these, with a willing harem at my call. A little ebony and black marble, with black iron accents. A piece of home in a place it seems I might just prefer to be. Yes, I belong here, in this district. It is in my blood...

Benaiah nods to the hulking guards, staring at them eye to eye as he passes through the doors before being ushered to Mistress Lanvi's study. As they pass the time, Benaiah finds himself constantly shaking his paranoia, though he isn't sure quite where it is coming from. Eventually he chalks it up to the fact that they were dealing with a woman of considerable underground power, whose livelyhood deals with people's secrets, and turning that into profit.

The newcomer certainly didn't help with his paranoia level either. It is astounding the amount of attention we have received since leaving the society. It seems everyone wants a piece of us... Perhaps I need to spend more time considering whether we are the pawns, or the players... He looks to Malgrim and Arimar, hoping they are considering the same thing.

In response:

Benaiah grimaces at the mention of Keoki, and looks towards his friends. "We haven't lost Keoki yet, though to be honest, the prognosis isn't good." Benaiah pauses for a moment, not sure if he should go on, or let one of the others finish for him. He wasn't often very good at communicating his point. Moreso, he had a tendancy to overshare, to Arimar's endless annoyance.

"We spoke about a great many things in the last day. It seems we are in high demand since arriving here."

A commodity in high demand? Perhaps that is the way everyone does see us, merely as pawns in their grander schemes. We will have to flip that script...

"My pops, curse his wretched soul to the abyss, always told me to Begin with the end in mind. Despite our phlematic... er, problematic relationship at times, it seems that the end we desire for this chapter of our lives is most attainable through a profitable partnership with you." Benaiah glosses over the awful pun, internally impressed that he didn't crack a smile when he delivered it.

"However, there is a more pressing matter. That of our friend Keoki, whose life hangs in the balance. We have identified a means to bring him back, which conveniently would also help you with your," Benaiah pauses to cough into his closed fist, and does a poor job of concealing that it is a fake cough, "Problem. Pardon me."

He looks to the others to see if they would like to continue the conversation from there.

Yes! No overshare! I think....

"Benaiah is perhaps being a little more circumspect than I will be," Arimar states flatly, "There is another issue that prevents a profitable partnership with you: your illness. True, you have told us not to worry about it, but how can we not? For it, you have prostituted yourself to the Collector. He has promised you a cure, and now he has you over a barrel." Arimar allows a while for that to sink in, but before Lanvi can offer a response, he continues, "We would like to remove that barrel. We believe that we have a way to cure you. We aim to restore the Fountain of Bethesda at the Temple of Sarenrae. This restored fountain should be able to cure both Keoki and you.

"Now, the priests have mentioned that they cannot play favorites and each must get their turn," Arimar adds, "But someone with your resources can surely find a way to secure an advantageous position in line. It will no doubt be easier than whatever the Collector is asking of you.

"With you freed of your obligations and illness, we can start a truly profitable partnership. We would welcome your views on this situation - as well as a more candid revelation of your relationship with the Collector - but ultimately, we will most likely continue with this course whether you will it or no. Keoki's life hangs in the balance and we would have him restored." Arimar leans back and then realizes he had forgotten his manners.

"This is Gwendolyn," he introduces the halfling, "She helped us out with an unruly Chelaxian, and we needed a fourth with Keoki out of action. Speaking about losing members... any news on Caerador?"

The halfling stands at the rearward periphery of the group until Arimar has introduced her. Prior to this moment, however, there was a twisting and sickening feeling in her stomach as she wondered if these new companions would betray her to their employer, be it intentionally or otherwise. It was not that she didn't trust them, but people, especially humans, seemed always to have it in themselves to surprise, and dissappnment, Gwendonlyn. Plus, even after speaking a few words to the group, it seemed Arimar and Malgrim could hold their tongues if needed, but she did not yet know how much trust she could place in Benaiah's social graces if his passions got the better of him.

Stepping forward now, the halfling bends low and bows to their host. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Lanvi," she voice is thick with elegance and the practiced cadence of perfectly articulated words. "As Arimar and Benaiah have mentioned, there were word with an unruly chelaxian, but in the end the event passed without incident."

"I am sorry to hear of the troubles of their former adventuring companion, and wish all the best of luck and health to this Keoki," she explains further, now casting a restrained and minimal smile upon the mistress. "I hope to be of use to these adventurers, and we are becoming decent of friends in the short time we have been acquainted. I place a great deal of power and importance on using the correct words, and in so doing, avoiding unnecissary conflicts and confusion."

"This is the mindset and skill set I bring to this endevour."

Despite our phlematic

Mistress Lanvi stares at Benaiah with an expressionless face. "Really?"

That of our friend Keoki, whose life hangs in the balance. We have identified a means to bring him back, which conveniently would also help you with your problem.

Her countenance changes abruptly. "Really?" Before she can sputter a response, Armiar chimes in.

We believe that we have a way to cure you. We aim to restore the Fountain of Bethesda at the Temple of Sarenrae. This restored fountain should be able to cure both Keoki and you.

"Really?" she exclaims as she turns to the aasimar.

We would welcome your views on this situation - as well as a more candid revelation of your relationship with the Collector

At this she closes her mouth, and gives Arimar a loud, "Harrumph." before Gwen begins.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Lanvi,

Completely taken aback, Mistress Lanvi is only able to utter a half-hearted response "Uhhh likewise Gwendolyn."

This is the mindset and skill set I bring to this endevour.

Her interest piqued, she gives Gwen a closer look. "Really?"

Exhaling loudly, Mistress Lanvi leans back in her chair. For the first time ever the Companions can see that they have stunned her. Completely at a loss for words, she shakes her head as if clearing some invisible cobwebs. "Really?"

"So the Collector has promised to cure me, I do have a few more tasks to accomplish for him. I am surely not beholden to him as you suggest. I am, and always have been a free woman. I make my own choices, Arimar. Never loose sight of that. But to imply he has me over a barrel is very incorrect, and a bit rude. Honesty, there is very little I wouldn't do to be cured, and few things I haven't tried.

Speaking about losing members... any news on Caerador?

"Who? Oh, right Careador. One sullen elf is hard to find on all of Golarion, even if I was looking. Probably went in search of some strange Numerian technology.

"But back to business, what do you need to restore this fountain? Ask and it is yours."

"You are dependent upon the Collector to save your life, and he won't tell you how he will and you don't know if it will even work..." Arimar favors Lanvi with a wry look before continuing, "... until you complete a set of tasks for him. If you don't think you are 'beholden' to him, then you and I have a completely different definition of the word. Perhaps I can travel to Valencio's Bookstore and procure you a word book." Arimar holds his hand up, smiling.

"I understand your meaning, and I am sorry," he lets the apology sink in, it the first he can remember ever giving to Mistress Lanvi, "I know you must be feeling powerless after unsuccessfully trying to cure yourself for so long, and my flippancy is not helping.

"Regarding the Fountain of Bethesda," Arimar looks to his companions and decides to be candid for once, "We do not know exactly what it is we need. We have yet to investigate the situation, but the High Priestess at the Temple felt that we were resourceful enough to figure it out. I also feel, somehow... and I know you don't usually put much stock in such things... but I somehow feel that it is my destiny to restore this pool." Arimar even surprises himself with that revelation.

"My first concern is getting the Collector off our backs, and I have an idea in that regard," he grins again, "Sheila Heidmarch has set up a Pathfinder Lodge here. All poor saps, all in search of knowledge. I say we send some Pathfinders after the book on the Collector's behalf... perhaps in return for allowing them to catalog its contents before giving it to the Collector. I'm sure that wherever the book is there would be other things of interest to those fools in the Society. What do you think, Mistress, would the Collector be interested in taking advantage of some Pathfinders?"

Arimar leans forwards, "But rest assured, we will try our utmost to restore this fountain and your health. When we discover more about the Fountain of Bethesda itself and what we need, we will be in a position to decide if you have resources that can be of help. In the meantime, we will keep you informed.

"Sound good?"

Malgrim remains subdued from the time that they return to Lavni's and throughout the conversation, eying the surroundings warily and the Mistress' words even more carefully.

For such an eloquent speaker, she does seem to be caught up on the word 'really'

After Arimar's suggestion, the hobgoblin mulls over the cleric's words. "I am unsure if we should invite more collateral damage into this matter... but going into dangerous and strange places for even stranger items while evading even more dangerous foes does seem to be right up the Open Road for a Pathfinder. That might be for the best."

He then turns to Lavni, and states with measured, unwavering certainty "Now, there is one thing before we secure an agreement with you. No more lies, no more half truths, no more omissions. It might be against your nature to be open and honest, but being kept in the dark has nearly consigned us to a seamat grave and has brought ruin to everyone around us. Your health is literally in our hands. If you keeping us in the dark causes us harm again, it will be for the last time."

Sound good?

"I think that it sounds ..." as Mistress Lanvi rises from her seat and extends her hand to Arimar, she hears the hobgoblin finally break his silence.

"Now, there is one thing before we secure an agreement with you. No more lies, no more half truths, no more omissions. It might be against your nature to be open and honest, but being kept in the dark has nearly consigned us to a seamat grave and has brought ruin to everyone around us. Your health is literally in our hands. If you keeping us in the dark causes us harm again, it will be for the last time."

She turns to look at Malgrim. "Lies. Truth. What odd words. I see that I may have misjudged the importance you all place on this. I ask you what is truth and what is lies?

"Very well, if it means securing your aid, or not, then I will be as forthcoming as I can. But I will need assurances from you all. You will all have to give too.

"You will not willing aid any of my competition nor work for anyone else. This fountain of Seranrae, we should negotiate the terms with the church together. You weren't working for the church for your altruistic nature, where you?" Holding up a hand, she turns to stop Arimar. "And of course the church will heal all the sick and infirm they can. But only a a fool would ask nothing in return for restoring it.

"Gwendonlyn, it is not too late to back out of this. Once you are in you are in forever. What say you?"

Basically she is asking for non-disclosure and non-competition agreements here.

"Your secrets are our secrets," Arimar agrees solemnly, "We entwine our fates with yours. If you succeed, we succeed.

"As for restoring the fountain - they were rather adamant about not playing favorites. If you think we can get a better deal than that, then please do feel free to help out. It would be much appreciated. Both you and Keoki should get special treatment for being our friends." Arimar shrugs. "Negotiating with good priests is quite beyond me. Their motivations and desires are a mystery."

"My business will become our business".

"Gwendonlyn, it is not too late to back out of this. Once you are in you are in forever. What say you?"

The halfling's eyes stare ahead, taking in the full and powerful gaze of Mistress Lanvi, and yet, falters none under the weight, and even returns the piercing look fully in reply. "If you want my word..."

"You have it," her words are straight and stern, filled with none the flowery pleasantries of pitch as they once had.

"I will keep your secrets and you shall keep ours," Gwendolyn continues. "I shall not betray your trust, nor your collected knowledge to your competitors."

Now, shifting her weight slightly, she continues in a reserved and stern tone. "However, if you are looking for me to sign some contract to that end, or be obliged to suffer under some powerful magic or curse that says I will not betray you," at this, the bard's eyes narrow. "You must subject yourself to the same oversight and repercussions when it comes to keeping my secrets and never betraying me, in the slightest, to anyone outside this circle."

"For I will never again be beholden to anyone that is not shackled by the same allegiances as I. I do not owe you anything. Nor you to me. We will be equals, completely dedicated to one another... or we will be nothing."

Malgrim shrugs. "I do not have any concerns for brothels or illicit business. The trade of skin and vice is yours to manage. For other matters, you can take our aid, or leave it. However, in aiding you we further make ourselves a target for whomever is after you. It is in our mutual interests to ensure resolution for those responsible."

Mistress Lanvi takes her time looking over all the Companions. "Arimar, Benaiah, and Malgrim. I have entrusted you with my life time and time again. From our attack on the way to The Audacious, the mats, the hadozee. I know I can trust you, and I appreciate all your have done for me.

"Now you all look terrible, and I have my evenings business to attend to. If there is nothing else?"

The Companions can read a brush off when they hear it as Mistress Lanvi rises from her chair.

Ok, so it has been a long day, let me know what you want to do next, sleep then Mouth, or hit the party.

That depends, is the party tonight? Was hoping we'd have more time to prepare.

Benaiah places a strong hand on Malgrim's shoulder, shaking him slightly, playfully. "Malgrim my dour friend, it isn't the skin and vice we are going to get rich on, it's the secrets people like to share between the sheets..."

Hell, I can't even stop myself from doing it...

The large man flashes a smile at his friend, then brings his excited face up to meet Lanvi's. Pausing for a moment, he looks around pointedly at the lavish household, making no provisions to hide that he is imagining himself living in such an abode.

And I've already got an ideal target in mind... The Paralictor himself. Fancies himself halflings does he? Yes, this will be a profitable relationship indeed...

When the Mistress is ready for the companions to leave, Benaiah wraps an arm around Malgrim's shoulder, squeezing him slightly out of excitement as they all turn to walk out the door. "Deep down inside that hobgoblin heart of yours is a fun button. I've been looking for it since we ran that first sortie for the society. I'll find it yet." he smiles and gives him a pat on the back.

As soon as they exit the manor, Benaiah turns his gaze to the halfling with a wry grin and a wink. "So just how late is fashionably late for this kind of swanky party? Do we have time for a quick stop to pick up some disguise self spells?"

So the timeline is completely out of wack. For sanity sake let's pretend it is tomorrow night and you have had plenty of time to prepare. So the question remains do you want to go or do you not want to go? Let me know.

Here and now...

"Glad we are finally of one mind," the skinny necromancer favors Mistress Lanvi with a smile, "By all means, please be about your business. We'll start investigating the Fountain of Bethesda and see if we can't work out an approach."

Arimar shakes his head at the decadence of the Alabaster District. Did he and his companions really want this kind of opulence? What is the point of it all? Lanvi has it, and all it takes is an illness and she's suddenly depressed and dissatisfied... and realising, no doubt, how few true friends she has in this life. Arimar had always been taught that people respected someone with power... but what he was coming to learn was that not many people like someone with power, especially if that someone has more than they do.

"Gwendolyn, I think it's time you clued us in on what you know about Lanvi's Handmaiden. We received some funds recently, and in Keoki's absence, you might as well get a fair share of them." Arimar pulls out the purse and makes five equal piles. "After this, I'll make the donation to the Church of Sarenrae. Two thousand should be more than enough to help them help the poor for a while.

"As for the party, yeah, disguise self would be great. What kind of party is this, exactly? Do we need costumes, noble regalia, or should Malgrim start polishing his Hellknight armor?"

Finally Arimar adds, "And let's see the Mouth tonight. I'd like his view on getting those chumps at the Pathfinder Lodge here to go in. Seems like a suitable kind of revenge."

Much later that night...

Optional read for all but the GM - only do so if you want to, boys.

Arimar walks the night time streets of Magnimar, keeping a wary eye out for foes. The Way was unlikely to have rallied by now, but they might still have agents watching them. A lone target could be a tempting one indeed.

Reaching the Temple of Sarenrae, Arimar unceremoniously raps once upon the great wooden double doors. A shy acolyte answers and he greets the acolyte by showing her the large bag of gold. "Kahina. Now."

Arimar is kept waiting a frustratingly long time before Kahina shows up, fully dressed but the state of her hair suggests that it has been hurriedly made after being roused from bed. High Priestess Kahina has a stern look on her face, the look of one who has a lecture planned. Before she can launch into it, Arimar speaks first.

"I am here to give you a portion of that gold, as we discussed. However, it is not unusual for a donor to ask for services in return for their donation," the necromancer's smile is almost apologetic as he shrugs and continues, "You see, I have thought long and hard about those who raised me. Oh, I won't tell you who... but they were powerful and had access to a great many clerical resources. Not as powerful at healing as the Church of Sarenrae, mind, but nevertheless they could arrange most any kind of healing if the occasion called for it.

"You see, I was taken in as a six year old child after the priests of Pharasma - curse her foul name - mutilated me by burning my tongue and throat with hot coals. My saviors adopted me and healed me, but said that they could never restore my sense of taste or return any sensation to my gullet," Arimar strangles himself momentarily, his hands closing worryingly tight around his throat. All the while, he feels no discomfort - at least, not until his throbbing temples demand fresh blood.

"But I have learned much about religion and clerical spells in my years of life," his face darkens, "Much and more besides. They said they could not heal me, and even knowing there were means that should have been able to, I trusted that they knew those means would not work. However, I am sure now that they lied; I am sure now that they could have healed me. Princess be damned, they should have healed me and yet they did nothing. I have gone through decades of life not even being able to remember what taste feels like. Sixty eight years of being denied this simple thrice daily joy that so many experience and rarely even appreciate." Tears of anger, frustration and regret flow freely down Arimar's face as he turns to Kahina.

"Please," he sobs, "Please cast regenerate on my mouth."

The lecture quickly flies out of her mind as Khania sees the man Arimar lay his soul bared. "As I told you earlier, we will heal all who are sick. Come, let us see what we can do." Placing a hand on his shoulder she walks the man to her small, private shrine.

"Kneel with me." She pushes Arimar down slightly. Kneeling on the cushion of pillows, she beings in a loud, clear voice. "By the Dawnflower, many are in need of you , many cry out to you, many wish to follow your ways. Here is a man, a man who has been stricken through no fault of his own, an innocent boy maimed for life. Dawnflower, as the sun rises each day, show this one your power and heal this man."

Finishing her prayer, Arimar can feel a warmth wash over him.

With the party

At the talk of attending the gala, Malgrim looks hesitant. "I suppose a Disguise may be useful, but then, I am far from an expert of small talk. Directly questioned, I may endanger us. As an asset, however, my ability to scale sheer stone walls may be of use."

He thinks a moment then shrugs. "I will bow to the wisdom of the party, however."

Here and now...

"Gwendolyn, I think it's time you clued us in on what you know about Lanvi's Handmaiden. We received some funds recently, and in Keoki's absence, you might as well get a fair share of them." Arimar pulls out the purse and makes five equal piles. "After this, I'll make the donation to the Church of Sarenrae. Two thousand should be more than enough to help them help the poor for a while.

The halfling accepts the gold, pausing to hold her portion aloft, eyeing it with what seems reverence. "If this was intended for one of your number... a friend... I will do my best to make sure it is spent in the service and protection of you three, and in so doing, hopefully will further our chances of helping this Keoki," she says, at last lowering and secreting away the coins in a purse at her side, which she quickly covers with a wafting hem of her dress.

"Now, as to the handmaiden... Lanvi's own daughter," she continues, stepping closer to the others, bringing herself into the very center of a non-planned semicircle. "As I have said before, or hinted at already, before I first met with you three I was attempting to gather information on Mistress Lanvi."

"To this end, and because I could not get personally close to the Mistress herself, I located and began to follow the handmaiden," she continues on, pausing to look over her shoulder momentarily. "For the better part of the day, she moved above the city, here and there, always in and out of shops, and generally taking what seemed intentionally zigzagging, convoluted paths. It was then that I realized she was intentionally trying to cover and confuse her trail, though I don't know if she actually suspected someone to be following her, or if she was simply being cautious."

"I was lucky enough to keep on her trail, though I did think I had lost her any number of times," the halfling smiles at this statement, making it clear it was in fact luck, and nothing to do with skill, that kept her from losing the trail of Lanvi's daughter. "In a park, seemingly at random, I caught a glimpse of the handmaiden speaking to a women... and I chanced a closer look."

"I was only able to only pick up the briefest piece of their conversation and spied as the stranger passed to the handmaiden an invitation to a party at the Versade Villa," looking now to the others, Gwendolyn waits to see if the name she had just revealed is of significance to the group.

"From the little I heard, it seemed the stranger was inquiring about the procurement of information on a particularly well known family in this region... the Vanderale family. The Vanderale family is one of the oldest and most successful in Magnimar. And based on that meeting, I think the handmaiden is going to this party with an aim to fulfill this request."

"Why does this matter to us?" she asks now rhetorically. "Because when this chance meeting ended, I followed the stranger away and not the handmaiden. In the end, I was able to learn that this stranger was in fact Ioana Versade. Now this is important, because as far as the information business is concerned, the Versade family is one of Lanvi's chief rivals."

"The Versades are throwing a party, and the handmaiden is invited, and they seem to looking to gather information on a powerful family in Magnimar. Why they want to know about the Venderale family, I don't know. But the Versades seem to be using the daughter of their chief rival as a source."

Waiting a moment now, the halfling thinks to herself while recalling more of the meeting. "I did get a look at the invitation, so it would be possible to fake copies of our own. And if the handmaiden knows your faces, then disguises would certainly be a good idea. I wholeheartedly admit that I will not be of use sneaking in stealthily or by scaling walls, I would be better suited to hide in plain sight and use my words. But perhaps there are multiple ways to approach this problem..."

Sorry for the text dump. Here is a quick recap, plus some extra/side info.
-Versade family = rival of Mistress Lanvi. Their speciality is 'entertainment'.
-Ioana Versade: met with the handmaiden, and seems to be trying to buy information on the Vanderale family.
-Versade Villa: where the party is taking place
-Guilded Cage: garish gambling den built into the side of Seacleft, owned by the Versade family.
-Savasha Versade: current 'leader' of the versade family.
-Vanderale family: very old and successful family in Magnimar.

What he said

Gwen! Don't apologize, thank you for the text dump. That was a lovely Cleveland steamer of info squeezed right out onto our chests.

"Very curious indeed," Arimar strokes his chin with interest, "It would appear as though the handmaiden is indeed crossing fences here. As you mention, though, she could be a double double agent, but I wonder if that ever truly works out in practice. A defector would encounter too much scrutiny to be able to uncover a decent amount of information. To my mind, if Lanvi wanted someone on the inside the Versades, she'd be far better to implant someone who knows things about their rivals, and has no known pre-existing tie to them... someone like you, actually, Gwendolyn." Arimar eyes here with mock suspicion. Why wasn't that real suspicion? he asks himself, Have I really become so trusting?

"Next question, how do we get invited? If we have disguise spells, we could always accost some potential guests, tie them up and go as them... or do you already know of invitees who won't be able to make it? Or can anyone enter this gambling den where the party is taking place? What did you call it? The Gilded Cage?"

Benaiah quickly answers Arimar's question of how to get invited. "If Gwendolyn here has seen the invitations, I can make us all forgeries. Remember that time I got us in to Valsin's soiree as dignitaries from Port Peril? He was so mad because we were supposed to be retrieving another trinket from Dralneen. He was even more irate when we exposed the fact that her slave had it all along, and he was banging her." Benaiah wipes a small tear of laughter from his eye at the memory.

"Anyways, I digress. I can create our invitations, if you can help us make sure we aren't recognized." Benaiah claps Arimar on the shoulder.

I took a chelaxian trait that helps me be good at forgeries. Figured it would tie in to my time on the run from the chelaxian inquisition, and gave the captain of the ship I stowed away on a reason to take the risk of having me aboard when I escaped. We can use that to get in.

"I say we go as the same port peril dignitaries. Arimar, you are the decorated ship captain and landowner. Malgrim is your mute first mate and I am a non-descript officer. Since you would be taking Caerador's place in the ruse," Benaiah looks straight at Gwendolyn, "I would suggest you play the part of eye-candy. Something tells me you are already quite familiar with how much a bit of cleavage can loosen a drunk man's tounge..."

Benaiah raises his eyebrows a couple of times to see if the others agree...

Just throwing something out there for the sake of throwing something out there. It feels like a bland, uninspired idea, so if someone has something better I am 100% for it.

Now...

"Great plan, Benaiah," Arimar compliments his old friend, "Simple is the way to go. Gwen, I take it you either have or can scope out the place before we go in tomorrow night?

"So, all that remains is to rest up for the night and talk to the Mouth in the morning, yes? Anyone have any objections to putting some Pathfinder chumps in the way? Not sure if he has connections in the society, so we could perhaps even parley ours into a favor. Perhaps."

Much later...

Arimar thanks Khania profusely for her help, gladly leaving the gold behind. As she retires, Arimar remains. "I don't feel any different," he grouses to the nearest statue of Sarenrae, "It all seems the same as before."

Then he remembers the bread. He looks over to where it was before. The acolytes have yet to clear it away. Even from this distance, Arimar can tell that it has seen better days. It has been hacked apart, removing the protective crust and the inside was likely to be hard and stale. Still, Arimar approaches the table and cuts himself a slice. He places the day old bread in his mouth and gives it an experimental chew.

"By all that is holy!" he exclaims, "It's f!#*ing delicious!" Caring not who he wakes, he tears into another few chunks of the bread with a vigor he has never felt before for food. Well, not since he was a six year old, starving street urchin anyway. The man's stomach, unfortunately, is not up to the task his mouth has set for him. Gobs of bread soaked in stomach acid erupt from Arimar's mouth and sully the pews. The vomit tastes terrible, but simply the fact that it tastes leaves Arimar still smiling.

The man pockets a hard, dry chunk of bread and wanders out into the night.

Morning prayer...

Arimar kneels before his god in supplication as always. A cornucopia of breakfast foods are laid out before him: fried ham hocks, fresh breads, seasoned quail eggs, heaping piles of bacon, linked smoked sausages and much more besides.

"Thank you Urgathoa for this feast," he begins, tearing into a sausage. The smokey, salty fat and oil drip down his chin and splash his tongue, followed by the savory flavor of the perfectly done pork. The combination of the tight skin popping, the juicy fat dripping and the meat that seems to melt is beyond heavenly for the once gastronomically deprived aasimar. "Thank you for the taste... of..." Arimar pounds at the table in pleasure an anger as he pops a spectacularly smooth and delightfully flavored quail egg into his mouth. "The taste of..." the crackling bacon gives him pause to simply sit there in silence and utter bliss.

"You know what, 'Princess'," he spits between mouthfuls of sweet buns, "Sixty eight years. Sixty eight years where you could have demanded that your followers heal me that I might worship you better. Sixty eight years of mental penance for failing to engage in indulgence. You know what? It was delicious... and I want to eat more. However, now I'm full. I will eat more when I'm hungry again. Your fat priests can go f%&@ themselves - I will not join the ranks of the obese." Arimar tips the remainder of the bounty off the table and onto the floor. Giving thanks to his goddess for this food felt wrong. She did nothing for him. Eating to extremes just because he might now enjoy it and that he should do so to please Urgathoa also felt wrong. He was not healed so that he might give praise to the mistress of undeath.

He kneels upon the ground like before, in prayer. "Thank you Sarenrae, for blessing me with your healing and allowing me to taste once again. Thank you for bringing one of life's simple joys back to me after I have so long been denied." Arimar continues to pray and meditate upon the day that will follow. Prayers for spells appear in his mind as they always did, but they are pure spells; ones that restore the living and not the dead.

Arimar gets up to leave the room and join his companions. As he does so, he looks back at the spilled food and smiles. He stands straighter than he has before and his belly is full. It is a pleasant sensation.

The sudden headache that follows drops him to his knees.

Somewhere off the shores of Magnimar...

Raim the Mindless suddenly feels less than compelled to stay underwater. As does Fido the bunyip. Both look around the horizon and see a city. A city filled with living people. A city filled with food. Both are so hungry. With Raim clinging to his back, Fido slowly swims for the very distant shore.

Early the next morning, the Mouth appears in the groups' bedchamber. Trusting open the shutters, he looks disappointed as the sun hasn't reached a sufficient zenith to flood the chamber with light. The sound of morning songbirds, as well as dusky light are enough to make them uncomfortable enough to rise from their slumber. A few relieve themselves in the under bed chamber pots, while the Mouth reclines at an awkward angle on a rickety chair in the corner.

"Did I wake you?' he giggles softly. "Big day. Decision day. So what will it be? Have a few adventures, fulfill all your wildest dreams? Or shall I let you fade into retirement in some backwater hamlet where you can be the kings of nothing?"

"Wake me? Not at all," Arimar notes cheerily from the doorway. He is just returning from the mess he left in the inn's non-denominational chapel. The adventurers note several strange things about their companion in the dim morning light: his belly seems to be swollen, he is walking straight and tall, food crumbs adorn his tunic, fat seems to have dribbled from his mouth and his nose is bleeding freely from the left nostril. If he has noticed any of this, it does not show on Arimar's face.

"I'm not sure that we choose the backwater hamlet, but that is definitely the gist of it," Arimar smiles, "Which is a shame. I was genuinely looking forward to working with you and your employer. However, needs must as Asmodeus drives, so to speak. We have found ourselves confronted with several other more personally pressing issues. If you are not already aware of what they are, I'm sure you and your employer could find out - though I'm not sure why you'd care.

"Anyway, if you're interested, let us know what you're willing to offer and we can speak to the Pathfinders on your behalf. That should help the Collector keep a decent distance from this whole affair," Arimar smiles and shrugs, "I'm sure you'll have to take it up with him, but let us know. Otherwise, thank you for the offer and we hope we can be of service another time."

A second painful headache ruins Arimar's confident demeanor as he grasps for the doorframe to balance himself. A small drop of blood forms on his right nostril this time and it takes several moments before he is able to stand on just his own two legs again.

The Mouth's countenance falls like the Starstone of old.

"Pathfinders? Money grubbing murder hobos. No. The Collector has more refined tastes.

"You would find the Collector a most generous benefactor."

Cyrus'd

Benaiah rubs the crusted bits out of his eyes as he wakes up from the disturbance. Trying his best to shake off the sleep, he pads over to the chamberpot and unleashes an uncomfortably long stream. He shakes it once, twice, thrice, and notes with dissatisfaction that there is still a small dot on his breeches as he pulls them up.

"You can shake, you can dance, but the last drop is still in your pants." he says with a chuckle.

"Mornin." he says, finally acknowledging the visitor. After the greeting, he stands patiently as Arimar answers The Mouth with the rundown of the group's plans, nodding in agreement at the highlights.

"Arimar is correct. The society always loved our results, but when our methods were inconvenient for their public perception, they got annoyed. There are many agents there who would be more than capable of getting what you need. We might even have a favor or two we could cash in with the local venture captain and set up a little meeting for you. Honestly, the Collector and the Society seem like a match made in... well... Whatever valhalla follows this life."

Benaiah rambles on, and finishes with a smile. He glances back to his friend, finally noticing the blood and his inability to keep his balance. Rushing over, he lends his massive shoulder to the skinny aasimar to catch himself on before he connects with the ground. "Hey bud, you ok?" he asks the question, despite the obvious answer. "Haven't seen this one from you before, what's up? I might have a concoction that could help..."

Dude, loving the story development...

The day prior, with the others, discussing the upcoming party...

"Agreed," she confirms with Arimar. "I wouldn't seem to put it past Lanvi, styling her daughter as a spy, but seems like using her own family would draw unnecessary attention upon the handmaiden. Though, the Mistress has been at this game for some time, and seems to have managed thus far, so she is the expert."

"Now, the party will be at the Versade's own villa," she explains a little further. "I don't rightly know how we would get an legitimate invitation, but I do think Benaiah is right that a skilled enough hand could make one. Mr. Tall and Powerful, and whomever else is skilled at such an act could probably work together using what I've seen of the invitation to make copies for us."

"If we were to play the part of this Port Peril dignitaries, what are you thinking that ruse would look like? A ship captain and his officers? I've actually spent quite a bit of time in the Shackles, in fact, I came from there just before stepping off the ship in Magnamar. I'd just need to know what roles you are thinking we'd play..."

Now, with the Mouth...

The halfling stirs in her bed, hearing movement about the room, near the shutters, but does not at first see the changing light. As the morning begins to brighten the room, and Arimar responds to the newcomer from the doorway, she withdraws the covers hiding her frame, unluckily timed so that she cannot help but take her eyes from the uncouth act of Benaiah relieving himself into the pot. As the time seems to stretch on and on, the towering form of Benaiah still releasing his stores into the chamber pot, Gwendolyn takes a moment the pat down her hair and rub the sleep from her eyes.

As the conversation continues to over and over reference the nearly mythic Collector, the halfling cannot help expressing a pleased and knowing smile. Her thoughts drift off for a moment while the others continue, imaging what it would be like to meet such a being. She had so many questions for the Collector, so many things that even now ate away at her for the not knowing.

Why hire an orginization as expensive and complex as the Conservatory, so that you might have a someone wrangle the wills of a random, unimportant halfling in the Shackles? That was my first assignment, graduating and being sent to Slipcove, with the sole purpose of making a seemingly unimportant lute player fall in love with me, and then to somehow convince him to join up with a ship's crew headed for the Eye... But why? Why waste so much time and effort on someone who was neither strong, nor skilled in magic, or a fighter of note... She thinks these questions to herself and fantasizes for the briefest of moments as to what the answers coming from the Collector might be.

Now her countenance softens, even replacing the smile with a look fully of sadness. Oh Wrigley, I wish your carefree heart and willingness to accept adventure in the name of love had not swayed my heart... I never told you how I truly felt about you, and now your lost forever, and soon to be sailing into a perpetual hurricane from which no one ever had a hope of returning...

But for what?!

Why did I let the Collector, and the Conservatory, control my own free will, and allow me to convince an innocent and lovely halfling to presumably sail to his death? Gwendolyn laments the thought and looks up, speechless.

One day, I will find the Collector... and I will know why...

With the Mouth, continued...

Looking up now to the figure calling himself the Mouth, someone she had never met before, she bites her tongue for a moment while preparing to answer. Every fiber of her being wanted to meet this Collector, and any act that could set her upon such a path was a nearly all consuming desire. But she had made commitments, to her new friends and to herself. She would leave the clutches of the Conservatory, though she knew not what troubles this would, in the end, rain down upon her, but it did not matter for she was done blindly following the wills of others. She would make her own decisions now. Following others had cost her what she could only think must have been true love, and no longer would she put the desires and wants of masters before her own.

"I stand with them, Mr. Mouth," she can barely speak the words, her once eloquent tongue wholly failing her in this moment. "Though I would love to meet this Collector, and hope to one day. However, in this choice, I stand shoulder to shoulder with these men."

"My word! Who is this and where is Keoki? I swear you loose more members than spot disease.

"May our paths cross again one day!" Ending with a flourish and a bow that would make any Varisian menagerie owner green with envy, The Mouth pops out of existence.

Ok, gear up and let me know when you are all ready to party like its 4099

Don't you mean 4999? And holy s#%$ that is a butt-tonne of gold. Equivalent of 14,000gp each? With that 9,000gp magic item up front? OMFG.

Anyway, glad you're digging Arimar's crisis. For my part, loving the Wrigley memories and sincere amount of crossover with some of our past games.

"F~*+ me," Arimar begins, "Did we really turn down that much gold?" I thought I was the only one changing.

"Thanks for the hand Benaiah," Arimar gratefully accepts the help. Benaiah notices, however, that where Arimar was near skeletal before, he now has something resembling muscle covering his bones. Not even Arimar knows it yet, but Sarenrae's healing magics are restoring more than just his sense of taste. "I'm not sure what's wrong, this is the second time I've had a sudden headache. It feels like someone is driving a spike through my brain. Whatever it was, it's gone now.

"I guess we'd best buy some provisions for tonight's party. We've probably also got time to head to the Temple of Sarenrae and start our research." Slowly, Arimar walks over to the bed and sits down. "I'm not exactly sure how we'd play a ship's captain and entourage, but it would go a long way to explaining why we know so little of city politics. Gwen, how much experience do you have with sailing?"

Actually, 4699 would be most appropriate. Pathfinder nerd here ;)

Malgrim wakes alert a the intrusion of the strange Mouth, mentally readying the fury of the earth should matters turn violent. As they devolve into witty banter so unsuited for the hobgoblin, Malgrim merely holds himself at a ready and lets the more loquacious party members do the talking.

After the mouth leaves, Malgrim moves over to Arimar and sets a hand on his companion's shoulder. "The gold that one offered might very well have been forged into manacles and chains. Who knows where the employ of the Collector may have taken us. The fact that they escalated the price so quickly makes me wary and glad we avoided that entanglement."

At talk of the party.
"I... am unsure I can even manage to avoid my distaste for that wretched form of travel, even remaining silent."

Love the date banter, should just have used 3999. In all honesty, people love to party on the 9s ;). The Temple will be a huge info dump, so I'd like to keep them separate. Party then info dump.

Pathfinder nerd

Redundancy anyone?

"...Gwen, how much experience do you have with sailing?"

Looking to the aasimar, the halfling has not known the man long, but finds herself wondering at his health with his recent string of nearly crippling headaches. "Well, a few years ago I travelled to the shackles on a ship. While I lived there, I was lucky enough to have tooled around, here and there. And recently, when I left Slipcove a few months back, I came here via a ship, as well... But that was all as a mere passenger... Sadly, I'm not much of a sailer. Though I do know a decent amount about the weather, geography, and such, so I might be able to pass for a navigator..." her tone taking on more of a gentle, caregiver quality when addressing Arimar than she had planned.

"Though, you should know lying has never been my strong suit," she adds, apologetically. "I'm quite good at convincing, so long as I can make logical sense of my requests. But straight bluffing my way through an affair won't fool anyone."

At least, I'm not good at lying... yet, she thinks to herself, knowing that she had spent a large portion of her most recent journey reading up, practicing, and training her perfectly projected and tempo driven voice to produce equally perfectly formed lies.

read this last paragraph's RP moment as, 'at 6th level Gwen will be good at bluffing' :)