Gameplay thread is open. Go ahead and dot in and introduce your characters. Gameplay is still not set to start until Monday August 26th.
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A steely-eyed gnome walks onto the road, out from between two cabins situated at the edge of town. He has a bow draped over his shoulders, a full pack, and a short blade sheathed and hanging on his belt. His long brown hair sways in the light breeze, with speckled bits of tan and green that seem to churn across the scalp as the dust blows past his face. He gives his surroundings a once over, giving a few horse-drawn carts a moment's attention before turning back to where he came. He gives a short whistle through his teeth, and within a few seconds a young wolf, just barely not a pup, comes plodding into view. The wolf sniffs at the gnome's hand and the little man pats him on the head.
"Let's have ourselves a bit of rest with a roof, Munk. We've certainly earned it."
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Arun stalks in from the cold, lips clenched together in what barely avoids being a snarl. He's tall enough that his broad shoulders and muscled arms blend into his build, but not so tall that the battered spear strapped to the thick layers of fur and hide across his back would be easily hidden.
Even here in the heart of the Society, his blazing eyes flicker across each of you, scanning for weapons, for weakness. He nods almost imperceptibly at Grimm's greeting and replies in a gravelly voice, "Arun."
He leans his spear against the wall near a chair and takes his seat, drawing a long sharp knife from his hip to clean his fingernails.
"What kind of trouble are you Society types in now?"
Having finally wet his lips at a small tavern, Jaladek makes his way to a quiet corner and takes his boots off. Munk, being smart enough to not draw attention to himself, curls into a ball underneath Jaladek's feet, letting the feet rub his back while the gnome unconsciously swings his hanging legs.
Jaladek, opens his pack and rummages until he finds his writing kit. He takes out a rolled sheet of parchment and gets a quill inked up and ready to write.
15th of Lamashan, Oathday.
I've arrived in Absalom for the second time. I only spent an evening during my last visit but I now find myself at the end of my latest courier mission with no prospects. Munk and I are taking a much needed rest in Westgate, and this small tavern, The Bridled Boar, has two small rooms for rent. We've gone unnoticed except when buying wine and food. It seems everyone in this part of town is in too much of a hurry to pay mind to two small message handlers.
Jaladek polishes off his goblet of wine and stares down at his trusty companion, who is now snoring just loud enough to make the gnome chuckle. Breaking the quiet moment, two men come in from the chilly afternoon, letting the tavern door slam behind them.
"Sorry, Pryh! It's just so cold. Your iron door handle hurts to hold for longer than a second!" The first man says.
The second man follows, "Yeah, Remmy here is right, if not a little soft, haha! It's going to be a cold fall. Say, you seen all them overly-prepared types making their way into town? Something's going on at the Lodge. Hope you've got fresh casks back there. Speakin' o' which..."
Jaladek ends his eavesdropping and turns his attention back to his journal. Too muddled in thought to write more he rolls his parchment back up and puts his kit back in the pack. Munk perks up at the familiar sounds of clasps fastening and stretches, starting his own getting-ready-to-leave routine.
"Okay, Munk, let's use what's left of the light and see what we can find out at that Pathfinder lodge."
Boots back on and pack shouldered, Jaladek and Munk head off into the city.
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A goblin stumbles into the midst of those gathered already. Hey hey! I'm Arfsnarf. Who wants a fortune today?
He proceeds to stop in front of each of the first three teammates assembled so far, to briefly blow on a kazoo, roll a polyhedral die, and after viewing the result say You probably not gonna die today, but things could get pretty rough. This indeed happens three times as if the "fortune" was individually applicable and accurate.
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The little goblin looks incredulous and indignant. What?! Arfsnarf not nobody! Fortune is useful when going to dangerous places! Just try going on mission without knowing whether could die and then see if you end up dead. Then tell me how you like it!
He seems at once satisfied with with his "logical explanation" and huffy at the human's insinuation of his qualities, continuing to mutter under his breath. Stupid longshanks think they know all goblins...
Having been in and out of the lodge for weeks now, Jaladek, along with Munk, finds himself sitting on the floor and watching the other new Pathfinders introduce themselves. Munk, ever vigilant, sits up and puts his paw on the gnome's thigh.
"I know. I just hate this part. Why can't jobs come from notes left in trees or something?"
Jaladek sighs to himself and gets to his feet. He fixes his tunic and approaches the group forming in the hall. He slowly inches around to make himself visible to the goblin and human having their spat.
"Uh, Arfsnark was it? I'm Jaladek. I've seen you around a few times. It's, uh, nice to meet you, goblin. What skills do you bring to this fine lodge?"
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The goblin's eyes light up at Jaladek's question. He holds up the die.
Well! This clacky rock helps me tell fortunes and know how safe our futures is going to be. From there is all magical burns and zaps until the annoying people go away. I'm told there was a dragon in the family on my great grand-uncle's side of the family. But that long ago and family telling me stories was drunk, so who know.
He shrugs it off, presuming it couldn't possibly matter.
Jaladek's mind spins as he try to keep his composure while also absorbing the goblin's supposed ancestry. He keeps his straight face, yet can't help his 1,000 yard stare for a few seconds. He blinks a few times and refocuses on the fortune teller.
"That's one amazing lineage you have. How does your clacky rock work?"
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The goblin takes a temporary air of dignity and explains.
The tradition holds, I stand in front of the subject, blow kazoo, and roll the clacky rock. The numbers mean things about a future, the meanings are secret. But, the clacky itself is simple...
He rolls it on the ground towards nobody in particular to demonstrate. It's this time that you notice it's big enough to fill his palm like a melon fruit would in a human's hand. The sides are crisp and uniform triangles, each with a numbers ranging from one to twenty. It's quite unlikely a goblin crafted it.
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A strange but lively melody can be heard outside, approaching the lodge. It grows, and the sound of light singing accompanies it. At first it seems difficult to hear what the words are, but eventually they can be made out.
"I may be rough, I may be wild
I may be tough and counted vile
But I can't give up my good old rough and rowdy ways
Sometimes I meet a bounder who knew me when I was a rounder
He grabs my hand and says, "Boy, have a drink."
We go down to the poolroom, get in the game and then soon
The daylight comes before I've had a wink."
The song comes to an end as the door opens and a very tall dwarf (just shy of five feet) walks in, lute in his hands still strumming. "I hope I am not too late," he says looking around and adjusting his glasses. "But as they say, feet are for walking, and walking may take some time." The dwarf dusts off his brightly colored clothes and bows low, "Grizmelg, at your service." As he straightens up, he looks over at Arfsnarf, and a grin splits his face, "I had heard . . . well, I suppose you'll be joining us on our adventure. That's wonderful!"
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Arfsnarf gives a slightly confused look.
Heard what? Is Arfsnarf's fortune telling gaining world-reknown? Don't worry though, Pathfinders always get reading for free. It essential to mission safety.
He gets his kazoo back out and walks up to Grizmelg. After blowing it he rolls the die on the ground. For whatever reason it takes an arcing path away from the dwarf's feet and circles behind the goblin. Arfsnarf turns around to look at the result suddenly freezes. He looks back and forth as if he's hoping nobody saw it, picks up the die and backs away without another worried and a face like he's seen a ghost.
Jaladek peers over the goblin's shoulder at the newcomer dwarf. As Arfsnarf backs away with his magical rock Jaladek moves forward, with an air of renewed sociability. A smile crosses his face and he holds his hand out for a shake.
"You're a bard..., and a dwarf! I've met many a traveler from Highhelm and not one of them was more talkative than an oak tree. What hold do you call home Grizmelg? I'll surely have to visit."
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A dazed-looking gnome wanders in, his black-and-yellow hair in wild disarray.
"Hello, everyone! Sorry I'm late--I was contemplating the nature of magic!"
A tiny mongoose-like creature patters in behind the gnome, then suddenly sits back on his haunches before saying, "You mean you were taking a nap."
Sparkin gasps in mock surprise, "Dr. Hopkins, that's a filthy slander. I do my best contemplating with my eyes closed!"
The animal gives an audible ha-rumph.
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At the sight of the newcomer, Arfsnarf shakes off the fright of Grizmelg's fortune result. He gets his kazoo back out and runs over to greet the wild-looking gnome.
Greetings, similar-sized one! You want fortune before dangerous mission, yes? It free to follow society agents.
He puts the kazoo in his mouth and blows it in the general direction of the gnome and his animal companion, wafting it back and forth to "cover" both of them.
He puts it away and rolls his "clacky-rock." Cocking his head and raising one eyebrow, he gets a confused look as if he's never seen that number rolled before. He pulls out a messily folded-up chart and consults it. Finding his result his eyes light up.
Very good! You bring great fortune and success to our mission! Very likely because you brought backup! Animals always good luck. Except dogs and horses. Nasty luck they bring. He gestures at the mongoose.
He then leans in closer to the gnome, glancing subtly at the dwarf, and whispers Good thing too. The last guy's outlook doesn't look so bright. He makes a slashing motion across his neck for effect before stowing away his die and returning to his place in the circle.
Welcome aboard!
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Jaladek can't help but wonder if he really did hear the small rodent speak. He makes his way over to his fellow gnome and vomits out an excited sentence.
"Hello. I'm Jaladek. I didn't catch your name. That's very impressive! Does your friend know more languages?"
Everyone receives the following letter: OPEN LETTER
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Jaladek reads the letter and inwardly sighs.
I'm not the biggest fan of these ceremonies. Maybe I should have stayed at the tavern all those months ago and kept to my messenger work. Making chatter with allies is one thing, but dealing with egos and rivalries is quite another.
The thought trails off as Munk walks underneath the gnome's hand, eager for his master's attention.
"I'm glad I have you with me, friend. Your social graces are so much better than mine."
Everyone has received the following letter:
Pathfinders,
I do hope you’ll join us at the Grand Lodge for the celebration to congratulate the most recent group of initiates—yourselves included! A good time is certain to be had by all, but it’s more than just a party. Gatherings like this are an excellent opportunity to rub elbows with the Society’s leadership and get to know them. That means you’ll always be quick to know about the best opportunities as soon as they arise. I hope you’ll take advantage of the event to put your best foot forward. I’m looking forward to seeing you there!
—Janira Gavix, Pathfinder Society Head Initiate
It seems as though the entire Grand Lodge has the air of a celebration. The great gates are flung wide, and the phoenix trees lining the entryway are in full flame. The halls of the main tower of Skyreach, normally somber and reserved, echo with the sound of voices and music. The great ballroom is decked for a celebration, with colorful banners and bunting along the walls, tables replete with food and drink, and a jovial cacophony of conversation rising from Pathfinders of all ancestries, nations, and backgrounds.
After a quick scan of the room, it’s obvious that many of the attendees have gathered in small groups here and there. A half-orc woman in an iconic ship captain’s hat stands near the punch bowl, handing cups to anyone who passes within reach, and a dark-skinned half-elf leads a small group of new agents around the room, introducing them to other attendees. Several senior agents stand in quiet conferral ith a dark-haired Taldan man with a distinctive chin strap beard, while a scholarly dwarf tells a rousing tale to a growing audience.
A familiar blond halfling woman bounces over, bubbling with excitement. Janira Gavix, Head Initiate of the Pathfinder Society, grins, “Oh, I’m so glad you made it! After all, the celebration is for you. Have you gotten drinks? Snacks? Be sure to spend some time getting to know everyone—it’s best to be on good terms with the movers and shakers in the Society, that’s how you learn about the latest opportunities. I’ll be here if you need me to help you with anyone’s names or to make an introduction. Just let me know how I can help!” Janira gestures everyone forward into the room, beaming all the while.
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Jaladek steps into the Grand Lodge, trailed quietly by Munk. As he takes in the hustle and bustle of the surroundings his stomach turns as Janira reminds him that this evening's festivities are in part for him.
"Thank you, Janira," he says with a bow. "You're most kind."
Okay, Jal. You can navigate this. You've been training for months. You can get your head out of the forests and books long enough to make conversation. Lots and lots of conversation...
After a bit of awkward chit-chat with Janira, Jaladek eyes the half-orc handing out drinks. He takes a deep breath, and moves further into the celebration, beelining for the punch bowl. Once there, he looks up at the half-orc and grins thoughtfully.
Hello! Do any of those glasses come with a little, ah, extra kick?
Arfsnarf mentions the dwarf to Janira, and the halfling bubbles with excitement, "Oh, yes! The dwarf is Gorm Greathammer, leader of the Grand Archive faction. He does tell wonderful stories. Why don't you all go over and meet with him."
As the group makes their way to Gorm, you can see he's talking to an oread woman with slate-gray skin and silvery-white hair.
Information on the Oread:
opportunities, trading partners, and the like.
The rest of you don't recall any information about the oread.
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Arun approached Gorm, simply grateful not to be dealing with another bubbly half-pint. Knowing that Urwal was one of those Verdant Wheel types who cared about the different ways assorted creatures related to the world, instead of just learning about enough to get into their head and predict their movements, he struck up a conversation about some of the stranger creatures he'd seen in his previous travels.
"...It's true. If you disturb a bullhorn acacia, the kind they have out in the Kaava Lands, the hive of ants that lives inside it will leave to patrol for hours in case you're coming back. So if you have a bunch of other 'archaeologists' on your trail, they won't be able to slip past after you without a fight."
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Grimm the vigilant follows the ugly goblin, shaking his head and cursing his ancestors that he follows such an ugly goblinoid.
Hearing that he has a chance for some time with Grom he tells about his experience in a tin mine and the problems with the mining.
But alas his story is rather lacking and utterly boring.
Arfsnarf tells the party that the oread is Aaqir al-Hakam, former leader of the Exchange faction. Aaqir makes his living through a global trade network and perks up to hear about business opportunities, trading partners, and the like.
Sparkin tells everyone that the oread is Sorrina Westyr, the Pathfinder Society Master of Scrolls. Sorrina is intrigued by other agents with religious or planar knowledge, as well as those who keep thorough records.
Arun tells everyone that the oread is Urwal, the leader of the Verdant Wheel faction. Urwal believes that each living being has its own way of relating to the natural world.
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Not having much to go off on but what his fellow initiates have led him to believe, Jaladek does his best to blend the supposed interests of the Oread.
"Hello there! Pardon the interruption. I'm Jaladek, and this here's Munk." Jal beckons to the wolf as the pup sits and begins scratching an itch on his chin. "I've been a messenger and runner for the lands between Absalom and the Five Kings Mountains, mostly business proceedings between merchants too heavy with coin to leave their own homes..."
"...I've kept extensive notes of my dealings and travels in my journal, keeping track of locations where one could find shelter, shortcuts through woods, and even a few hovels where there's hermits willing to trade..."
"...so should you know anyone in the society who could use some extra knowledge from my travels, I would be happy to assist."
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Arfsnarf sees his opportunity and approaches Aaqir al-Hakam, former leader of the Exchange faction.
Heyo Aaqir! How you be doing? I'm Arfsnarf Ah'sneeze and I have terrific business idea for you to share in! Everybody wants to know what fortune their future holds, but many too embarrassed to go visit back-alley fortune tellers in run-down stalls and shops. Get disowned by family. Ridiculed at fang salon. Instead, we create branded network of Society recommended fortune tellers who have renowned accuracy and quality! Employ bards to tell of their success, and knowing when to take or reject missions based on fortunes! Avoid certain deaths! Determine successful mated pairings (or you longshanks say "love")! We make a killing. What do you say? Invest in Arfsnarf with first 500 gold and I'll say it was your idea!
He shakes his "clacky rock" in his hands in fashion to tease the idea with Aaqir.
Sorrina Westyr listens to Arun's recount information regarding the bullhorn accacia. It's an interesting story, but not quite her thing.
Grimm mumbles something about rocks which is a bit painful to listen to.
Luckily Sparkin picks up the conversation a bit and Sorrina is enthralled about the details of the Thassilonian Peacock Spirit.
Jaladek picks up where Sparkin left off and keeps Sorrina's attention with stories of his travels.
Sorrina is a bit taken aback when addressed as Aaqir, but the goblin is quite endearing and his fortune-telling idea makes Sorrina chuckle.
After your conversations with Sorrina, Gorm addresses the group, "My, you are an interesting group and I'm quite impressed with your people skills. Tell you what, I have a little job for you. It'd make a great story for new, up and coming Pathfinders. A scholar at the College of Mysteries has been working on potentially dangerous research. I'm not sure what the research is, but I know it’s partially based on nameless scrolls from Nidal. I don't particularly care if the Pathfinder Society gets the original scrolls—they’re probably on human skin anyway—but I would like a copy for study. What do you say?"
"Excellent! Tell you what, I've got something that might help you along the way how about this." He holds out a scroll of Magic Missile.
"Now go enjoy the rest of the party!"
Sparklin spots the half-elf and Janira chimes in once again, "That is Fola Barun, leader of the Envoy's Alliance Faction. She is quite wonderful and loves new recruits." You make your way to Fola and see that she is talking to a Taldan woman with dark hair.
Sparklin tells you that the woman Fola is talking to is Urwal the leader of the Verdant Wheel faction. Urwal is very much interested in the outdoors and believes all life is precious.
Jaladek tells you that the woman is Gloriana Morilla the former leader of the Sovereign Court faction. He's heard that Gloriana is very much interested in the arts, nobility, and traditions.
Grim tells you that the woman is Valais Durant, the leader of the Radiant Oath Faction. He's heard that Valais is often heard talking about crafting, medicine, and interesting knowledge.
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Grimm smiles at Fola and introduces himself.
"Mylady, it is a big honor meeting you, a big honor indeed. Please forgive my lack of knowledge, but what is the heart of your faction.
Please forgive my plain words, I am a simple man and my skills are not with words but with deeds. I could tell you how to survive in the wilderness, what kind of roots are eatable and even enjoyable. Like the marigold, a beautiful flower with interesting abilities in the curative
field. Easely found in the fields and with beautiful yellow petals.
But alas small talk is not my forte."
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Jaladek digs deep to keep the social momentum, each conversation taking a bit of energy out of his internal reservoir. As he approaches Fola, he wipes at his tunic, thinking of something a woman like Gloriana may be impressed with.
"I say, this Grand Lodge continues to impress!"Jaladek gregariously holds out his arms and slowly spins taking in the totality of the room they're in, mentally noting the empty spaces along the walls. Munk turns his head to one side as his master takes on a persona the pup has never encountered before. Jaladek then stops and addresses the two women who are now within a respectable talking distance.
"You know, I've done a few trips to the Five Kings Mountains for a few nobles here in Absalom looking for unique statuettes to put in nooks all over their manors. I could arrange a meeting or two here in the city if the Society wished to adorn this great hall any further..."
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Arun tends to view conversation as another blade in the sheath, rather than an end to itself, but that doesn't mean he doesn't pay attention to what he overhears. He avoids saying a specific name until he's more certain of exactly who he's speaking to, but nonetheless spends time regaling her with tales of the goings-on in Absalom. If she's talking to the Envoy herself, than she must have some interest in it.