[PbP Gameday VIII] GM Crunch and the Fires of Karamoss (Inactive)

Game Master Saving Cap'n Crunch

A Pathfinder expedition has uncovered hitherto unknown levels in the Red Redoubt, a millennium-old siege fortress created by the machine-mage Karamoss. A source of Numerian technology in its own backyard piques the Society’s interest, yet informants in the redoubt speak of an aggressive contingent deep below that aims to reactivate Karamoss’s powerful forges. Can the Society salvage the fortress’s treasure while also preventing a catastrophe that could crush Absalom?

Good question! We won't know until I get the scenario and the game starts. But until then, feel free to introduce yourselves, as much or little as you like. We've got some spare time.

Enora is a small female halfling in fine robes that looks at all of you with interest.

She walks through the room and says "Oh yes, I am finally here!! Hello, my name is Enora. I assume we are all professionals here!! Might be a good chance to get to know each other. I am from Rahadoum originally and am quite interested in magical phenomena - I hope to have your support in uncovering the secrets of this wonderful world. And I am quite optimistic that we will be successful!" she says cheerfully.

A tall, well-built woman in steel plate mail extends a hand to Enora. ”Imperia Rex,” she says firmly. Strapped to her waist is an exceptionally well-made longsword, while across her back is a well polished shield and a thick, darkwood bow. Not an inch of skin can be seen, even the grey hazel of her eyes is difficult to spot through her helmet. Magic is always good, excited to work too. Should be a good addition.

”I’m the first line of defense for this mission,” she offers simply. ”What areas of magic have you mastered? Knowing your teammates is crucial to a successful mission, especially in planning our tactics.”

A young half-orc girl slinks into the room, eyes darting challengingly between her assigned companions from beneath a shock of black hair. "I'm Roldala." Her words are muttered, her mouth barely opening up enough to let them through, but even that brief glimpse is enough to see that her mouth is a horror of jagged teeth, filed and broken into mangled wreckage.

She stalks over to the side of the room on powerful limbs that still manage to look a bit gawky, as if she still has one growth spurt left to finish. When she hears Imperia Rex's accent her eyes practically seem to catch fire, but though you can see her jaw working in some suppressed emotion, she stays quiet.

Enora looks at the two martial Pathfinders with a smile.

”Well, first of all it is important for you to know that I can haste you and that I have a couple of defensive and offensive options as well! But you won’t see me at the front and I hope you will support if I am attacked!!“ she says with a raised eyebrow.

D

A fine-boned elf is sat in a corner, she reluctantly places a mark in the book she is reading and steps over to the group. As she does so a fox weaves sinuously between her legs.
”Mylvwara Elberion,” she pauses to nod her head to the group, ”Well met.”

She gives the Grey Maiden’s words some thought, ”I am a scholar, foremost, and will catalogue and record our findings. Should we face danger, I am trained in conjuration and can summon creatures to fight beside us.”

"Do tactics offended you?" Imperia asks the teenage Half-Orc curiously. "Some find them cumbersome, but they shouldn't feel prescriptive if we plan them around our natural actions." I don't expect the same level of teamwork as my sisters-in-arms, but I'm sure even a wild child is capable of fighting without losing her mind. Nothing shall pass us on the field.

"Haste, you say? That is always useful magic, I look forward to seeing you implement it in battle," she continues, with a nod of her head. "Mylvwara, are there any useful conjuration spells you are likely to use in combat?"

Roldala's eyes come up at Imperia's question, face contorting with scorn. "Did I say that? Maybe I just don't like chels." She points a blunt finger at Enora, then at Mylvwara. "They make us better, and deal with the fights that aren't fair.

"'Cause any fair fight, I'll win. You can guard my back if you want."

Haahahah I just realized you're also Lutorinus, Imperia. Man, Roldala can't stop running into your Chelish/Infernal characters :-p

Mylvwara pats her spellbook, ”It depends what we need. Once we know the mission I will prepare appropriately.”

She waves airily toward Imperia’s gear, ”I’m sure we all have choices to make.”

"Chels? As in all Chelaxians? What could have possibly happened to you that you hate an entire ethnicty of people? Does that include their colonies, former and current?" Imperia inquires with a mix of shock and curiosity. The Empire makes hard choices, but always for the ultimate benefit of the country and it's vassal nations. She must have experienced an unfortunate but necessary instance of collateral damage, real or perceived.

"They do, it will be a wondrous advantage for us! If you insist on going first, I won't stop you. I suspect my armor will provide more protection than your lack of it, but I'm here to work with everyone, not against," she explains, before turning to Mylvwara. "We do, though I find my sword is usually my best one. I'm close to mastering an archery technique that relies more on raw power than accuracy, maybe then my choices will be a little more varied!"
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Haha and I only have the two! XD Imperia is much more reasonable and thick-skinned than Lutorinus, so we'll see how this round goes! ;)

Suddenly a young woman dressed in a fine silk tunica enters the room, her long black hair falling on her back.
Greetings fellows my name is Kitani and I am from the city of Korvosa in Varisia. My skill is the management of the arcane arts especially the school of Evocation and everything related to the management of the different elements

Mylvwara looks at the two Korvosans and the half-orc and raises an eyebrow, interesting...

A part of Roldala wants to bare her teeth, grab her hammer, and show the damned chel piece by piece what she'd endured. "Don't worry about it. Just remember, all chains break in time." The Varisian flows of Kitani's voice don't seem to trouble her near as much. " Just don't blow me up and we're fine. "

"I'll have to take your word for it then, Roldala, I've seen more chains hold fast than break," Imperia responds. Definitely collateral damage, unless she earned some direct ire for herself. Can't be helped either way, s#~* happens.

She stiffens a little at the mention of Korvosa. "When were you in Korvosa? I spent quite a bit of time there too, before... moving on to Kaer Maga," she quickly explains to Kitani. Must have been after the death of My Queen and the Grey Maidens fled if she doesn't recognize this armor. Or too young to have been aware. Ugh that's always the risk with these Society missions, the diversity has a way of tempting the uncomfortable exposure of the past. I've seen what was written about Korvosa too, all twisted to serve a one-sided narrative.

knowledge (local): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (5) + 11 = 16

”Indeed, your armour is Korvosan, is it not? Did you buy it from a former member of that disbanded unit?”
The elf admires the armour, ”A fascinating piece of recent history.”

Went for a response that matches the roll.

It's going to be a shame if I have to cut my way out of here, but a lie is always more trouble than it is worth. "It is Korvosan, what a keen eye you have. I earned this armor through many tests of fortitude and will," she responds a little tensely, if vaguely, her hand resting on her sword's pommel. Fascination with history is good, almost safe, even.
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No worries, use that knowledge!

”Oh, I have a friend in the Sable Company. I’ve never been to Korvosa but I read widely as well.”

The elf taps her haversack, ”I have been reading about Lirgen lately, fascinating place...”

An elf clad in armor and bearing a variety of weapons strides in. He seems pleasant and eager to be pleased with his company, but he quickly detects the tension in the room. "My name is Fingalad, elven warrior from Kyonin. What is going on in here?"

”mae gan y fenyw mewn arfwisg goch a'r hanner orc safbwyntiau gwleidyddol gwahanol. efallai y byddai'n well newid y pwnc.”

Mivvy smiles at the new arrival.

"Mae hyn yn ymddangos fel mwy na gwahaniaeth barn wleidyddol yn unig!" Fingalad says and then laughs softly.

"I see you've all been with the society for a while. Where have your past missions taken you?" He asks the group generally.

Bah, just the Sable Company. They don't know their head from an Otyugh's den. An thank the Nine for that. Imperia's grip falls from her sword and pivots towards the newcomer without addressing Mylvwara's statement. "My most recent mission involved the Plane of Water. Not ideal, but nothing we couldn't overcome by work together to achieve victory. And yourself? You just missed a brief conversation on tactics and how we each might contribute to this team. How do you envision yourself fitting into a gaggle of casters with a pair of warriors to keep them from physical harm?" she asks, without the slightest hint of condescension when she refers to the casters in the group.

Mylvwara takes a moment to consider the anserine collective noun with some amusement and the hint of a smile plays across her lips, hopefully we will not be so noisy or panicky as geese, "My previous mission took our group to hell, which was as unpleasant as it was unexpected. I also spent a lengthy period exploring corridors below Thornkeep, a small settlement close to the Crusader Road."

"I have also spent a period working in Numeria. It will be interesting to see how the machine-mage's creations compare."

"I can survey the field while I support with my bow. I will fill any holes in the front lines as they open up, if necessary."

"Kept the Whispering Tyrant asleep; watched a halfling grapple a dragon," Roldala muttered, more than a little suspicious at the quick Elven exchange, "Jungles near Sargava before that. Killed some kind of undead ant hive mind; helped another Pathfinder best his own inner demons. The metaphor kind."

Roldala made a great grief counselor :-p

Your current locale is decidedly more mundane than the sites of your previous missions; you stand in the basement of a Grand Lodge substructure. A Venture-Captain bid you wait for her here, and mentioned something about the Machine-Mage Karamoss.

Whether your prior conversations happened on the way here or all took place in the dark hall, tensions gradually dissipate. In place of those emotions is a sense of mystery and slight unease. Neither of which are dampened by the fact you're standing in a shed.

After an increasingly uncomfortable loiter, Imperia breaks the silence. "Any of you figured out why briefings tend to take place in such odd places? I heard one group of Agents were duped into giving Drandle Dreng some loose coins while he pretended to be a beggar! Such odd customs..."

Just to do something, she begins inspecting equipment around the shed. Fixing what she can, reorganizing what she can't, she does her best to leave it all better than she found it.

"Dreng enjoys his disguises, it seems." Mylvwara surveys the setting, "As for this place, it might be that our mission is unofficial, clandestine or in some other way meant to be kept secret. Perhaps we are to meet an informant whose identity needs to be protected? And some Venture Captains seem to enjoy a touch of drama as well."

Mylvwara creates a small light, re-opens her book and reads while they wait. She occasionally makes notes in the margins of the book she is reading.

When time finally feels as if time can't move any slower, a change! Venture-Captain Shevala Iorae, one of the Society’s premier experts on the ruined siege towers near Absalom, steps into the basement. She waves and begins speaking eagerly as she approaches, the flame of her candle struggling against her pace.

“Hello! I’m sorry to summon you to such a bleak meeting space, but I’m gathering intelligence that I can really get only here. Come, you’ll have to see for yourselves.” The Venture-Captain stops in front of a wooden door with a sign saying 'Not to be opened before 26 Arodus 9 Rova 4719.'

“Before we go in, tell me — do you know much about the Red Redoubt of Karamoss?”

Knowledge check time!

arcana: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (20) + 13 = 33
engineering: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30
local: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

"Karamoss was a wizard from Numeria known as the Machine Mage. He allegedly spent decades researching automatons inside the notorious technological dungeon known as Silver Mount, and was said to possess unparalleled mastery over all kinds of constructs and machines.

Venture-Captain Shevala Iorae has led the new efforts to explore the Red Redoubt, and she has sent scouting teams into progressively deeper levels of the tower. For the last few days, Shevala has not left the Grand Lodge, instead remaining cloistered below in a darkened records room.

Mylvwara gives a respectful nod to Kitani, ”Excellent, thank you.”

Then she looks to the VC, ”What more have you unearthed from the archives?”

Roldala eyeballs Shevala, assuming she won't like being talked about by Kitani as though she weren't there.

Shevala nods in satisfaction, not seeming perturbed by the strange way of address. "Ah, good! It always pays to be informed. I'll admit the archives haven't told me much-," she turns to Mylvwara without pausing, "-but thankfully I've still gotten some information. Sometimes it's better sought from an eyewitness than some musty tome."

Shevala opens the heavy wooden door into a cramped records room, eliciting a pained cry from inside, followed by curses in a strange language. The room is even darker than the hall outside, lit only by a few small candles. A sturdy wooden chair stands in the center of the room, on which writhes a curious creature. Long, rubbery arms spill over the sides of the chair and brush the floor, connecting to a torso covered in dirty green scales. Huge black eyes protrude over a drooping, sharp-toothed mouth that appears to close on only one side. The creature squints against the light from the torchlit hallway, shouting, “Shut it! Shut the blasted door!”

“Pathfinders,” The Venture-Captain says with exasperation, “may I present Marw.” She beckons you hurry inside so she can comply with the hideous creature's request.

knowledge, dungeoneering: 10 + 7 = 17

Fingalad tilts his head, letting his hair fall to one side. "Hello, Marw. I am Fingalad. We're you born like this, or did someone do this to you? I know most chokers do not have many of your features."

knowledge (dungeoneering): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (16) + 11 = 27

"Extraordinary! You found it at the Red Redoubt?"

She turns a quizzical eye upon the creature, "You poor thing."

Imperia tilts her head when Kitani starts reciting what is apparently a string of facts from a variety of encyclopedia pages. "That's an odd way of speaking," she comments.

What a pitiful creature. "Are we going to be extracting information out of that?" she asks, clearly unperturbed by whatever is wrong with it. "It won't like it, but I can probably get it done" she concludes darkly. Even with a face fully obscured by her helmet, it is obvious she just might enjoy such an opportunity. Enemies don't keep secrets from me for long.

Kitani takes a look around Marv examining all mutations "Its very strange that happen to this creature"

"Once we know what it knows, what's next for this thing? Locked away in the dark?"

Marw seems more at ease with the dim lighting, but is just as raspy. "Born. Kind of. We live in the Scrap Heap. It's full of all kinds of rotten crap and cursed metal." He turns his head at an odd angle to look at Fingalad. "We all look weird, or so you say. But that doesn't matter. What matters is the robots!"

Shevala takes over. "The Scrap Heap is also a higher level of the Red Redoubt. Per what Marw has told me, it has been attacked several times by robots from a lower level - the Forge. When the last team of Pathfinders came by, he struck a deal: Any information he knows on the structure, in exchange for our help in stopping the raids."

The Venture-Captain looks a bit shocked at Imperia and Roldala. "For shame! Not only is Marw here of his own accord, he has put himself in pain as a result. There is no need for 'extraction' of information. I have listened to all he has told me over several days, freely given."

“I need you to find out what’s going on within the Forge; if something is providing power to Karamoss’s robot foundries, it’s imperative that you deactivate that power source to prevent history from repeating itself. At best, it could be someone messing with dangerous equipment. At worst, a robotic invasion of Absalom. Needs looking into either way. Of course, Marw here would also like us to ensure that whatever is scavenging in the Scrap Heap and endangering his people ceases to do so. Finally, please keep an eye out for anything of academic significance.” Shevala ticks off invisible boxes as she lists your objectives. “The entire tower is a trove of historical data from one of the most fascinating periods in Absalom’s history! Bring me anything interesting that you can carry, and secure everything else so that future expeditions can study the artifacts in relative safety.”

Roldala glares at Imperia for getting her in trouble, but stays silent in the face of Shevala's rebuke. She does continually work her jaw though.

"What do these robots do? If we break the foundry will that mean they all lose power?"

"They seem like standard fare, or as close as you can get with such matters. Bearing melee weapons and powerful light beams, but standard. Marw's information wasn't enough to tell me if they looked newly minted. If they are, it spells out more trouble.

"My guess is that the robots' power isn't tied to the Forge. But it's possible! You'd likely stop nearly all other trouble by cutting the power, but don't break it too much."

Forgot to mention, both NPCs are pictured in the slides.

Imperia shrugs at Shevala's ire. "Loyalty is earned over time, not in moments of dire need." Doesn't seem like Roldala took kindly to that attempted slap on the wrist. Maybe we'll have something to bond over and I won't have to worry about receiving "accidental" friendly fire.

"Don't suppose it has a map or better directions? Sure, it has names for places, but those are meaningless to us unless we have a visual," she points out. "If not, I've got all I need and am ready to go. These 'robots' are made of tough metals, right? A little tactics and our weaponry," she continues, gesturing to Roldala's Lucerne Hammer and tapping her sword, "should get the job done easily enough. And that's before the magic the others bring to the team. Shall we?"

"I will need a little time to prepare appropriate spells."

"In the meantime, Marw, have you seen any of these robots with your own eyes?"

"He doesn't have much of any knowledge on the Forge, I'll admit," Shevala replies to Imperia. "Just details about the Scrap Heap. And you're only passing through there."

"Take however much of today you need, adjusting usual preparations or acquiring gear. We're in the dark as to the problem. But assuming a literal interpretation, forges are hot. Be ready to deal with high temperatures and sturdy foes."

Marw squelches around to answer. "Yeah, I saw a few. Fought them too. Tall, with all sorts of weird weapons. Made of red metal, maybe that jez-steel stuff that one-" he jerks his head in Kitani's general direction, "-was yammering about. They only hit back when we tried to stop them from taking salvage and robot bodies."

Fingalad smiles. "This sounds interesting. How do we get in? How will we know when we've found it?"

Shevala grins back, happy for the optimism. “Marw will accompany you to the Scrap Heap, and he assures us that his choker allies will not only refrain from attacking, but escort you safely through the junkyard themselves. Ingress is likely our lowest concern. I believe he mentioned that the group found the lift those automatons use to go between the two levels.” Marw nods in confirmation.

Following any other questions, and whatever preparations you would do, the mission starts next morning. Not a few hours after waking (sometime before dawn, for Marw's benefit), he has led you through the Red Redoubt, and down a makeshift lift into the Scrap Heap.

There, a small group of other chokers waits for you. Each is quite mutated, but in different ways. A massive overbite here, an extra leg there, several with translucent skin. They wend through the mountains of junk metal, until stopping at a door as tall as the ceiling, 15 feet. Both it and the surrounding wall are made entirely of djezeteel. The door is labeled 'Forge - Power Control Waste' and has panels to open it on either side.

After a short discussion with his fellows in another language, Marw turns to you. "No way we're going down there. You are on your own. Is there anything else you need, in terms of information?"

Roldala shrugs minutely. Didn't really expect to have backup anyways. Hefting her long-hafted hammer to her shoulder, she prepares to open the doors. "Chant your spells now if you want; the gate's coming up soon."

Mylvwara snaps her spellbook shut, "Fascinating...".

Mylvwara draws a wand and casts mage armour on herself. Then she activates the light on her wayfinder. "Ready."