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“Pathfinders, our beloved Absalom faces the threat of invasion and needs our help. Just as Absalom has been our Society’s home for centuries, so does it fall to us to aid in its defense. Find the group to which you’ve been assigned, lend a hand as the city prepares for the siege, and be ready for more instructions.”
At the terrible news, the other venture-captains are frantic, scrambling to put together special teams to handle a number of critical, time-sensitive tasks.
As you answer the call to volunteer to join a team, you introduce yourselves to your fellow Pathfinders, everyone rushing to lend their expertise in this moment of crisis.
Uncanny voice penetrating the din, Osprey whispers, "I need a team of Pathfinders ready to chase a spy across the rooftops of Absalom, hoping to gain some useful information about the coming attack."
The stoic Master of Spells Sorrina Westyr calls out, "I need Pathfinders to help spell casters set up defensive wards."
Ambrus Valsin, always a dark cloud on a sunny day, grouses, "Someone must persuade these stubborn people to abandon their homes and retreat behind the city walls. You'll have to travel into the neighborhoods of Copperwood, Dawnfoot, Shoreline, and Westerhold outside of Absalom."
Ever the panhandler, Drandle Dreng begs, "Please, would you be willing to perform a short scouting mission to spy on the army mustering in the Cairnlands?"
Zarta Dralneen, Pathfinder point-of-contact for all things strange, licks her red lips, "I need a few of you to investigate strange occurrences that have been reported all over Absalom."
Like somebody left the cap off the toothpaste, Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shaine shrieks, "I need a few skilled men and women to help repair a wagon that tipped over while carrying alchemical goods and other important supplies."
Lady Glorianna Morilla, more harried than composed, demands in a shrill voice, "Can someone please gather information on recent events?"
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A half-elven man with a mangled mug, disturbing is with you. He wears a shiny mithral breastplate, and has several wands, scrolls, and other magical items by his side. He carries a pistol in a holster and a terbutje across his back.
He speaks in what is obviously a country-side accent. "'ello everyone! Mighty nice you meet you it is! Name's Ralph. I'll be 'elping you with a lil' bit of magical support and some gunfire."
He then begins petting his large-sized white furred tiger beside him. "An' Angel will be helpin' as well." He turns his full attention to her and starts scratching behind the ears. "Who's a good girl?
The white furred tiger responds with low pitched purring and a cocked neck towards Ralph's body.
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Ralph heeds the calling of getting townfolk to abandon their homes.
Ralph starts waving his pistol around, trying to look all menacing-like. "Alright, ye' gits! Get outta here, the lot of ya! What ya doing standing around here like lunatics waiting around for the siege ta hit? Come on, get behind those city walls!
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A well groomed human with polished armor and a perfectly loaded set of adventuring gear strides confidently into the group of Pathfinders. He carries with him an air of confidence, as if a call to arms such as this one is old hat. He wears a small smile, a look of determination, and a silversheen Falcata with the name "Remembrance" etched into the fuller. Looking carefully at the blade you see dozens of small names carefully carved into the metal, a testament to fallen Pathfinders he has been sent to rescue, redeem, or avenge. Displayed prominently over his heart is his badge of honor, a perfectly polished Wayfinder.
He nods knowingly at the other Pathfinders, "Well met all. You may know me, Davorin Blackridge. I've been assigned to this team. Introductions shouldn't wait, we need to know what we bring to the table if we're going to fight effectively in this siege. I of course bring my blade, but think of me as the backup plan - I try hard to plan ahead and I will always lend a hand when needed, just ask."
It is clear throughout his introduction that he is making a point to confirm that everybody has a Wayfinder. If you do not, he launches into a five minute tirade about how you disgrace thee Pathfinders by not proudly displaying your membership, especially at this time of need.
In response to the battle preparations:
Striding confidently towards Lady Glorianna Morilla, Davorin nods at the faction leader and speaks with a calming tone he hopes will diffuse the tension a little "Ma'am, I believe I can help." He briefly consults his Pathfinder Chronicle for any information regarding previous attempts to assault Absalom, looking for prominent city landmarks that were hotpoints in previous campaigns ( ). With one last nod to his companions he turns again to Lady Morilla, "I have some ideas. I will return shortly."
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A Rahadoumi man with light olive skin in desert worn leathers holds a longspear with a large banner emblazoned with the symbol of the open road.
He bows slightly and speaks "Greetings fellow Pathfinders, I am indeed Hassam al-Rashid, the Jasper Sage."
Hassam takes a moment to look over the group before proffering his palms to Ralph "Know that you are welcome in my house. We can break bread together and delve into ancient tombs to recover relics. We can stand side by side as we work to close the World Wound or defeat Runelords from ages past. All I ask, is that you not proselytize to myself or my children."
He's got decent, but not exceptional social skills and a smattering of mediocre knowledge skills.
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A portly fellow with bluish skin and a jovial expression comes bustling up, bearing a platter covered with a simple cloth. ”Sorry to be late, so sorry, though I believe when you see what delayed me you’ll forgive me.” He pulls the cloth aside, revealing an array of... well, it’s hard to say what these concoctions may be: clusters of rice and vegetables and mysterious-looking lumps of fish meat. Seeing the quizzical expressions on his companions’ faces, he throws his head back and roars with laughter. ”Aye, not many in Avistan have acquired the taste yet, but believe you me, it won’t be long before the Kings and Queens of the Inner Sea and beyond are all hankering for a taste! Undiana Jones is the name - Undy to my friends - and I aim to be the sushi king of all Golarion; it’s just a matter of time before I’ve got a franchise in every hamlet this side of Katheer. But as you can imagine, it’ll take some capital to get the ball rolling, which is what brought me to the Pathfinder Society: hard to find a better way to make a quick buck, don’t you know? But where’s my manners? I’m sure after hearing all this you must be famished, which is why I hope you’ll forgive my lateness - if you want to harvest the freshest baby reef claw you’ve got to wait until the tides are just right (and it doesn’t hurt to wait until mama reef claw has gone out neither!).” He offers the platter towards the group, and as he does so, a small dragon pokes its head out of his robe and slurps up half the samples in a flash. ”Riddywipple! Those are samples for our new customers, I mean friends!” Sheepishly, Undy offers the remaining samples to the group, while the faerie dragon smacks his lips with gusto.
Ralph and Angel have an easy time shepherding stubborn holdouts behind the safety of the city wall, where the frantic preparations quickly help convince them that you may have just saved their lives.
Hassam and Davorin filter through the assorted rumors that constantly swirl through Absalom, and pick out a few that seem particularly troubling: People have been complaining that the local bread and water taste funny today.
Sailors have been talking about a strange fog rising in the Flotsam Graveyard and at sea beyond the bay. Some even say they’ve seen the outlines of masts within the fog.
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"Absalom under attack... what is it this time? The asps again?" asks a tall taldan man wearing heavy armor and carring around a big 2 handed sword on his shoulders. He seems to have just awakened after a night of sleep and doesn't seem all to pleased with the situation he found as he emerged from his rest.
"Seems like I could try helping with that..." he tells Kreighton Shaine as he moves near the broken cart with the alchemical supplies.
"Name's Rogar by the way, pleased to meet you all even under these funny circumstances"
With a great heave, Rogar is able to help right the cart, making any necessary repairs a simple thing. Grateful for Rogar's help, and for your forthcoming efforts, the merchant offers you each a potion of cure serious wounds, as well as another potion of your choice!
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Dioneo is a noble young man very confident with himself. As he joins the group, he quickly glances at the other pathfinders and smiles widely.
"Greetings, fellow adventurers! Wonder no more, for I am indeed the Baron Dioneo, second of his name, of House Starnon. A pleasure to meet you all. Gyahaha!"
As he approaches, the temperature increases by a few degrees.
You notice quickly that, even if he has the manners and the noble grace, he is not human at all. His white-flaming hair and his burnt skin make you think he is an Ifrit. His clothing includes some features you recognize as chelaxian.
Eyeing the group, he stops at the tiger, raises a surprised eyebrow and then grins to everyone, keeping the feline well in the corner of his eye.
"What a pleasant team! I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun", he says, pouring himself a glass of red wine from a personal bottle he takes from under his black and red robes.
"It seems like a Gamaret-Garanoir day to me. Strong, long yet subtle enough to be remembered for the years to come..."
He then seems to suddenly remember that he's here for something... Defending the city, perhaps?
He first steps forward to yell at the gathered crowd but sees it already flees from Ralph's strange figure. He acknowledges the man with a sharp nod and follow Master of Spells Sorrina Westyr to help her strengthen the city's magical defenses. He mutters a few words of draconic as he tries to remember arcane knowledge he learned with his dragon-spawn of an uncle. As he opens his eyes, the baron quickly spots flaws in the flame and electric traps, as well as in the wards of certain parts of the city.
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Again, he mostly sticks to casting buffs or healing and then shoots his gun if he has nothing better to do.
Oh, and having a fully leveled large tiger. I do have Oils of Reduce Animal in case she needs to get medium size.
In addition to Dioneo's help in setting up the city's wards, he thinks he might be able to tap into their strength to protect him and his fellow Pathfinders...
Meanwhile, the Jasper Sage pursues a spy across the rooftops! Unfortunately, rather than be caught, the spy hurls himself to the cobblestones below. With his last breath he threatens, "You’re no match for the demon-flesh army my liege commands!” Searching him doesn't reveal whole lot more information, except for a symbol resembling a bull's head branded into his skin.
Also, aside from 20s, any number you'd like to reroll for enemy saves? Or if a weapon-wielding enemy rolls a known threat? (Like an 18 for a rapier). The more we set up of these in advance the happier I am ;)
Following up with the rumors of strange events that Zarta directs you towards, Davorin finds some strange traces: Skeletal footprints and a part of a broken sickle. Following these footprints, he notices that the
supports of a bridge have been sabotaged!
Undiana and Riddy's reconnaissance pays great dividends! They find that the army consists of various kinds of creatures stitched together from demonic flesh: mainly constructs, oozes, and undead.
However, they also notice that the army’s field commanders are all minotaurs and that there are true demons among the army’s ranks.
Bolstered by this advance notice, the quartermasters are able to free up some specific gear for your use!
With Rogar's aid, Davorin is able to figure out some early warning signs of potential undead infiltrators.
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Davorin confidently strides towards the Master of Spells who regards him more as a barrier to success than a help, "No ma'am, I know that I've never once attended one of your classes. Yes ma'am, I do understand the importance of the work."
Undeterred, Davorin moves towards an apprentice wizard that is helping create defensive wards, "I think you missed part of the mark there, and don't forget that this part is in red, not blue."
(Remember, +4 on success!)
Davorin acknowledges the slack jawed look of the wizards at work with a simple nod.
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Undy also rushes to help with the defensive wards.
Observing Davorin's work, he nods approvingly. "Not bad at all. You might have made a decent wizard if you'd put your mind to it. I don't suppose you've ever thought of managing a restaurant franchise? I might have quite the opportunity for you... Though I suppose we should defeat these invaders first..."
Meanwhile, Riddy thrills to the chase, eager to help catch a spy.
Climbing up a chimney to look for the spy, he suddenly recalls that he can fly perfectly well and takes to the air, shouting, "Down there! Down there - there he goes! After him!"
The extra eyes available to examine the fleeing spy help spot some strange augmentations that the spy bears. Perhaps some of the Demon Flesh he spoke of? You resolve to be wary of such creations.
Undiana and Davorin's help is instrumental in getting the wards to thrum with power!
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Heavy clouds are gathering above Absalom, and the city is tense with anticipation of the coming battle. Suddenly, bright light patterns flash from atop Skyreach. A few minutes later, the sound of an explosion rumbles through the city as an old wooden granary erupts in flames. A little farther away, a stone bridge collapses, dropping a group of soldiers to their deaths. Soon the air is alive with frightened screams, the sound of hurried footsteps, and moments later, the booming blare of a brass horn that rises above the din of a city in chaos. A messenger runs past, shouting: “The horn! We should gather at the Grand Lodge! Let’s go!”
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Several agents assist in marshaling Pathfinders as Marcos Farabellus unfurls several maps of Absalom’s districts. Once a crowd has gathered, he straightens to address the gathered Society. “Pathfinders, Absalom is under attack. We have received many reports of undead saboteurs attacking armories, granaries, water supplies, and guard outposts—targeted strikes to undermine our city’s infrastructure. Absalom is losing key resources, and enough people are panicking that it’s difficult to organize an effective defense.”
Zarta Dralneen, head of the Dark Archive faction, steps forward and interjects. “I have learned someone—someone who knows our home well—has stolen the Black Echelon codebook from our archives. A force of Taldan agents attacked Absalom long ago while following those encoded orders, and with the right combination of illuminated signals, one could draw these oathsworn operatives from beyond the grave to continue their attack.”
Farabellus narrows his eyes. “That explains the acts of sabotage. Absalom’s First Guard is struggling to restore order, and they need our help. Pathfinders, stand by for instructions!”
Ollysta Zadrian of the Silver Crusade raises her sword high, announcing, “We should not wait—Absalom needs us now!” Clasping the paladin’s upraised hand with her own, Lady Gloriana Morilla adds, “Each of us has accumulated considerable influence and resources in recent years, and this is the prime opportunity for each of us to lend Absalom our strength in its our of need. We may call ourselves factions, but today we can act as one!”
Nodding with approval, Marcos Farabellus calls out to the assembled Pathfinders. “It’s decided. Pathfinders, we’re deferring to the specialized expertise of these seven organizations to rally Absalom. Seek out the leaders for instructions, and make the city proud.”
It has been decided. The factions of the Pathfinder Society will coordinate the Society’s efforts to help Absalom survive from the attack. Each faction has identified a task ideally suited to its strengths and its agents’ skills, so choose your missions wisely. Most of you are best equipped to serve the needs of your own factions, but there are considerable opportunities to help Absalom by assisting other factions directly. Now is not a good time to be selfish—you’re all in this together!
You find Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin busily receiving reports and dispatching teams from near the gates of the Grand Lodge itself
"Ah, good, you're here. We have received some troubling news from the Puddles. The Muckruckers—a volunteer force of guards watching over the district—have reported that Fort Tempest has suddenly fallen silent, and a strange black flag is flying over the fort. Despite the Muckruckers’ concerns and observations, nobody has stepped up to investigate what’s happened. I suspect that while most of Absalom has been watching the Cairnlands to the north, an enemy force has silently taken over the secondary fort that oversees the Puddles district. Whatever has happened in the fort, the First Guard can’t spare forces to look into it.
“Your job is to lead the Muckruckers into the fort, find out what’s happened, and provide aid as necessary. They look up to you as heroes; don’t let them down.”
Except for the tattered black flag waving over the fort, nothing looks out of place as Fort Tempest first comes into view. However, once you - with your Muckrackers in tow - get closer, dozens of hidden enemies within the fort open fire, first with crossbows, but soon ballistae and catapults are brought to bear as well!
Quick Reflexes: Reflex Save
Survival Instincts: Initiative check