You have been summoned to the Pathfinder Lodge in Magnimar - Heidmarch Manor, home of the noted pathfinders Canayven Heidmarch and Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch. The lodge, which also serves as the home of the two experienced adventurers, is the base of operations for the Pathfinder Society in Varisia.
In the Meeting House, you await your hosts to find out the reason for your summons. The Venture Captain has a fearsome reputation - what could she want with you?
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An elderly, frail man adorned in traditional wizard's robes arrives, dragging a sack of books and assorted other supplies behind him. Initially covered in dust and beading with sweat, the dirt and old man odor (mostly) fades away as the man gestures and utters a short incantation. Dropping his sack on the floor with a thud, the man takes in his surroundings, clearly unimpressed by what he sees. With a loud, unpleasant sigh, he demands aloud, "What threat is so imminent, what discovery so beyond reach, what challenge so insurmountable to accomplish as to require that I, Golthwur Strath, Steward of Sigils and Wrangler of Runes, be drawn from my studies, descend from my tower, and report here to this, the forsaken wilderness of Varisia, on behalf of the Society?"
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"Wonderful, a fellow Nagaji. I am Yagajimoro Iodoma, servant of Iomedae. You may call me Yagaji." With a bow, the large nagaji then turns to Golthwur.
"Hello, I am Yagaji Iodoma, servant of Iomedae. You may call me Yagaji." The paladin offers Gwolthur a bow and a winning smile. Yagaji may not be the brightest candle in the temple, but his smile can light up a room.
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Golthwur strolls to a seat near the head of the table, casts prestidigitation to remove any detritus, such as stray hairs or scales, and plops into it. "Important for a mundane serpent such as yourself, perhaps, but the time of a mage is a commodity of great value." he hisses.
When a second nagaji arrives and says little the wizard deems to be of import, Golthwur shakes his head and mutters to himself in nearly inaudible tones. "The standards of the Society must slipping indeed"
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Golthwur strolls to a seat near the head of the table, casts prestidigitation to remove any detritus, such as stray hairs or scales, and plops into it. "Important for a mundane serpent such as yourself, perhaps, but the time of a mage is a commodity of great value." he hisses.
When a second nagaji arrives and says little the wizard deems to be of import, Golthwur shakes his head and mutters to himself in nearly inaudible tones. "The standards of the Society must slipping indeed."
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"Well, I say, that's bang, out of order." the fussy looking elf mutters to himself.
"Pleased to meet you all. Not often I see another wizard along for the ceremonies. If you'd like, we can compare spellbooks when we've a moment." he nods to Golthwur.
To the Nagaji, he continues.
"The pleasure is all mine. And I look forward to adventuring with a servant of the Inheritor; they have saved my life more than once. I shall try not to burden another of the faithful with keeping me alive!" he says with a chuckle.
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A rather uncouth half-orc joins the group, accompanied by his surly horse, Horace. "Gronkh's the name. Gronkh Maha to be specific. And this here's Horace. Hope this adventure brings us some loot, lots of it. Got bills to pay, don't you know. Be a Pathfinder, they said, get rich, see the world. Hmph. We'll I've seen a bit o' the world, I'll grant you that, but I'm still waiting for me share o' them riches..."
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A halfling in a blood red business jacket, a matching modest length pencil skirt and some decent sized pumps in the same color strides into the room. She takes a quick moment to check her perfectly coiffed hair hadn't shifted out of place before giving everyone in the room a glance over. Despite being half the height of the next tallest person she gives the impression of looking down her nose. In one hand she carries a small thin board of wood with some metal contraption on the top to hold papers in place and in the other an ink pen that she occasionally causes to make an eerie clicking noise.
She gives everyone in the room a small bow before her facfe softens a little and she gives the room a slight smile, "I am Angela Isafira, secretary of the Grand Lodge and here to audit chronicle reports. This is just a random audit; noone is under direct suspicion of misrepresenting information. But I am also bound by the Pathfinder code so I will certainly be assisting you where ever I can."
Her eyes first alight to Jeskit, "Ah you must be Jeskit, right? It will be nice to have your strength here!" Her eyes the move to Golthwur before deciding to move on quickly, instead turning to the next nagaji in the room. "Given your holy symbol to Iomedae, I'm going to assume you are Yagajimoro. May your goddess be guiding your hand... and hopefully your words today!"
Still avoiding Gotlwur's eyes she moves on to the other wizard in the room. "Mr. Milibanke-Grears, I presume? There's no other elves on the roster I have here. Anyways your magical expertise will be invaluable!" She then turns to Gronkh, giving him the appropriate orcish greeting before adding in orc "And you must be Gronkh, may you and your horse help keep us safe. Also you have been turning in your travel reimbursement forms, right? It can significantly increase your income, but oh so many many people forget to."
She finally turns to the last Pathfinder in the room, "Finally, Golthwur Strath, I believe. I've heard... stories about you from my colleagues. Something about adding 'Stweard of Runes and Sigil or Wranglers' or such not to every mention of you in writing. I am looking forward to what adventures may be lying ahead of us."
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Yagaji pauses for a moment, trying to absorb all that Angela has said. Then he smiles and bows to her, saying "Hello. I am Yagajimoro Iodoma, servant of Iomedae. You may call me Yagaji."
Yagaji walks up to Byron and bows. "Hello. I am Yagajimoro Iodoma, servant of Iomedae. You may call me Yagaji."
The large nagaji then turns to Gronkh and bows. "Hello. I am Yagajimoro Iodoma, servant of Iomedae. You may call me Yagaji."
Satisfied that he managed to remember to introduce himself to each person in the room, Yagaji smiles to himself and sits.
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As the halfling goes about her note taking, the impatient wizard huffs each time it appears to him that he is about to be addressed, only for the scribe to turn her attention to another--he surmises, less gifted--agent. Upon suffering the apparent indignation of being addressed last, the wizard declares, "My dear, one would do well to be warry of words, lest one appear to be mocking a mage."
The socially inept old man gives the woman an eye, attempting to ascertain whether she was simply making certain her notes were accurate or if, instead, she had been making fun of him. Unable to come to any definitive conclusion, he nevertheless chooses to speak, "As for my skills, you should know that I, Golthwur Strath, am not merely a Signatory of Spells or Author of the Arcane! No, indeed. For a mage of my training and skill, is well-schooled in all matters of magic! Though it is true that I have mastered the writing of runes, the scribing of scrolls, and the etching of enchantments, know also that I have plumbed monumental mysteries, coaxed confounding conjurations, and engaged in evocations, to name just some of my deeds of note."
"While I could, no doubt, list all of my arcane accomplishments and occult operations, the magnitude of their value would be, almost certainly, lost on mundane folk such as the lot presently gathered here." he says dismissively.
"Especially, I would think, this one." Golthwur adds, pointing at Yagaji. "Whatever, his name is. Did he even bother to mention it?"
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Jeskit nods in recognition of Angela’s compliment. As Golthwur continues his tirades, Jeskit looks for eye contact with Yagaji to show some solidarity. Perhaps a story then, Master Golthwur. Something spicier than scribing or authoring if you pleassse. Jeskit let’s out a bit of a hiss though his upbringing trained it out of him. It tends to come out when the rage comes...or when he’s teasing.
Presently two women enter the meeting room. Although both are human, their appearances are starkly in contrast. The first is tall and straight-backed, dressed in a fashionable form-fitting gown accentuated by exquisite jewelry: she is instantly recognisable as Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch. The second woman is short and mousy, dressed in dull brown robes. She wrings her hands and looks down at her feet instead of at you.
"Agents, thank you for your prompt attendance" announces the Venture-Captain. "As part of my role as Venture-Captain I am responsible for ensuring smooth and productive relations with legitimate authority. You might not be aware that some of our missions need a great deal of behind-the-scenes diplomacy before they can be undertaken, and on occasion if falls to a Venture officer to build bridges with the relevant powers. It pays to be well connected." She smiles, and waves a graceful hand towards the second woman.
"Jeminda, these agents will assist you. Agents, this is Jeminda Anikee. Jeminda is a book-keeper employed by the city of Magnimar, and she has a problem. Helping her is helping me. I'll leave Jeminda to explain. Everything you need for your journey is prepared and waiting for you, but if you think you need further supplies I am sure you can find whatever you desire in the city. I look forward to receiving your reports in due course." Heidmarch takes her leave, and the book-keeper looks up at you.
"Erm. Thanks. Yes. Ahem." Jeminda Anikee clears her throat. "Erm. I work in the city tax office. A few weeks ago I discovered that a small village, called Ravenmoor, hasn't paid its taxes for several years. I did my research, of course, and I don't believe that there was any malice in the omission. It appears to be a clerical oversight by my predecessors. Ravenmoor is quite remote, and we've neglected to send a tax collector. The amount owed is 500 gold pieces, including interest and all fees and charges.
I, er, I haven't informed my superiors yet. They're sure to say that I should have found the error sooner. I asked a tax-collector whom I trust to go and collect the money. His name is Elias Kyle, he's my brother in law. I received a short letter from him from Galduria a week after he set out for Ravenmoor, but in the two weeks since that missive, I've heard nothing. Elias seems to have vanished, and now I feel responsible not only for a missing 500 gold pieces but also for a missing employee of the free city of Magnimar. And on top of all that he's my sister's husband!
I can't afford to get fired. I really wasn't sure who I could turn to, but your Society is famous and I managed to get an audience with your Venture-Captain. She said you'd be able to help.
Please, travel to Ravenmoor as quickly and quietly as possible. Find out what happened to Elias and collect the 500 gold pieces owed in back taxes. If the townsfolk aren’t able or willing to pay the money, I will settle for a report to that effect and can then go to my superiors for further support."
Her sorry tale told, Jeminda looks down at her feet again.
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As the halfling goes about her note taking, the impatient wizard huffs each time it appears to him that he is about to be addressed, only for the scribe to turn her attention to another--he surmises, less gifted--agent. Upon suffering the apparent indignation of being addressed last, the wizard declares, "My dear, one would do well to be warry of words, lest one appear to be mocking a mage."
Angela gives the man a blank stare, before blinking a few times. "Mocking you? Why I would never mock a fellow Pathfinder. And I do try to be very precise with my words. But iin retrospect I could se how that might offend."
The socially inept old man gives the woman an eye, attempting to ascertain whether she was simply making certain her notes were accurate or if, instead, she had been making fun of him. Unable to come to any definitive conclusion, he nevertheless chooses to speak, "As for my skills, you should know that I, Golthwur Strath, am not merely a Signatory of Spells or Author of the Arcane! No, indeed. For a mage of my training and skill, is well-schooled in all matters of magic! Though it is true that I have mastered the writing of runes, the scribing of scrolls, and the etching of enchantments, know also that I have plumbed monumental mysteries, coaxed confounding conjurations, and engaged in evocations, to name just some of my deeds of note."
"While I could, no doubt, list all of my arcane accomplishments and occult operations, the magnitude of their value would be, almost certainly, lost on mundane folk such as the lot presently gathered here." he says dismissively.
Angela nods along to the words, before her eyes harden a little. "That's nice, dear, I have no doubts that you are a powerful wizard. Though, you would be surprised as to how perceptive some can be. You will have to tell me about all of your accomplishments, in detail, later. I'm sure it'd bore many gathered here to listen to you regaling them now, however."
"Especially, I would think, this one." Golthwur adds, pointing at Yagaji. "Whatever, his name is. Did he even bother to mention it?"
With a look of shock on her face, Angela turns to Yagaji and makes sure she has his attention before she says. "Yagaji, this is not good! Our wizard friend can't remember your name! I think you have to introduce yourself to him again. And every 15 minutes. Just in case."
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After the breifing, Angela stands up and moves up to Jeminda and takes her hand, looking up into her eyes. With a genuine look of compassion on her face the halfling says. "Clerical oversights are the worst, aren't they? You did well finding what your predecessors missed in the first place. And you then took the next most effecient step and tried to resolve it! You've done well, everything else was outside of what you could have expected."
She reaches up and gives the woman a pat on the shoulder. "But I do have a few questions. Mostly where is Ravenmoor in particular and is there anything you know about the area that would be good for us to know? Next could you give us a description of what Elias looks like?" She pauses for a moment beofre fishing out a card with her contact details on it. "And finally, would you mind providing an address where I could write to you? Us clerical types should stay in contact, and I would love to know what system you used to find the oversight in the first place; it's been a recurring nightmare for me that I am overlooking something or someone with out noticing."
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Gronkh listens to all the various palaver with arched and amused eyebrows until Angela Isafira mentions the issue of travel reimbursement vouchers, at which point he noticeably startles to attention. "Travel reimbursements?!? No, no one said a word about it! Outrageous - some flunky back at Skyreach has been pocketing my share - taking oats right outa poor Horace's mouth!" He continues to grouse about this basically indefinitely.
When Jeminda tells her tale, however, a relaxed smile spreads across his ugly face. "Right, then. So we're tax collectors now, is it? Ah, I knew this pathfindering would pay off sooner or later... So we just head to this little hamlet and make the villagers pay their taxes - seems simple enough - can't really see anything that could possibly go wrong. If they don't want to pay ok if we make an example of a few of 'em?"
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Perhaps a story then, Master Golthwur. Something spicier than scribing or authoring if you pleassse. Jeskit let’s out a bit of a hiss though his upbringing trained it out of him. It tends to come out when the rage comes...or when he’s teasing.
"Finally," announces the wizard, giving a semblance of a nod to Jeskit, "A Pathfinder who recognizes my experience and expertise. Where shall I begin? Ah, yes, there I was in my tower." he begins. "You mundanes may not be aware of this fact, but a tower is actually a sturdy structure, oft cylindrical in shape and rising multiple stories in height in which a mage may conduct rituals as well as study."
"In any event, there I was within my tower when I spotted a particular tome of note. Well, I..." The wizard pauses in midsentence when the two women enter the room. He is about to speak, but appears to recognize Venture-Captain Heidmarch and things better of continuing. He largely remains silent as the women speak, save for an occasional huff or sigh that indicates that he is clearly still pouting about the fact that he was interrupted.
Once Jeminda concludes her tale and the half-orc has spoken, the wizard interjects himself into the conversation, not even allowing the women the opportunity to respond to Gronkh's question.
"Do I appear to you to be some Carrier of Coin or Purveyor of Payment? Neigh, I say! I am Golthwur Strath, Mage Beyond Measure, Evoker Without Equal! Surely, you would not expect one such as I to spend my valuable time counting coins or man-handling moneys?!" he cries indignantly.
"If you merely wish to know the fate of your family member, then I think it little problem to cast a simple locating spell or engage within some simple scrying. Such, could have been readily done from a tower, if not the comfort of this lodge, could it not?" he continues. "Indeed, such a matter would be of little import for one wizard and, yet, you have seen fit to demand the time of two mages!"
The elderly man tries to rise up to full stature to make his point, but quickly hunches over to rub a pain in his hip. "I find these mundane matters that you seek to saddle us with so...so..." he seems to struggle for just the right word, before settling upon,"...taxing."
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"A tax collector, in a region not oft used to the, ah, tender ministrations of the law, is not likely to be very popular fellow. Perhaps he was run out of town, and is on his way back here? How far away is Ravenmoor? Byron muses, reluctant to suggest the much more likely outcome in front of the poor mans kin.
"I believe this should be well within our capabilities. And I have not spent much time in Varisia, outside of Magnimar or Kaer Maga, in ages. We should depart as soon as possible."
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"Especially, I would think, this one." Golthwur adds, pointing at Yagaji. "Whatever, his name is. Did he even bother to mention it?"With a look of shock on her face, Angela turns to Yagaji and makes sure she has his attention before she says. "Yagaji, this is not good! Our wizard friend can't remember your name! I think you have to introduce yourself to him again. And every 15 minutes. Just in case."
At the halfling's words, Yagaji's smile lights up the room. Usually when people start talking a lot he just thinks about his sword drills until everyone gets up to go somewhere. But he's delighted to have something to contribute to the conversation.
He stands up and parade walks over to Gwolthur, then offers a formal bow in the military style. "Hello. I am Yagajimoro Iodoma, servant of Iomedae. You may call me Yagaji."
He turns and nods eagerly at the halfling, looking for approval.
He really is quite pretty.
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"Yes, yes." Golthwur mutters dismissively, trying to strain his aching neck to look past the nagaji once Yagaji ceases his bow and returns fully upright. "You've spoken before...or was it the other one? And would it make any difference?" The wizard continues to look around the serpentine Pathfinder, without any success, ending his efforts with an sharp, "Ow!", having pushed his neck muscles to their limit.
The old man slumps back into his chair, conjuring a piece of ice, which he presses against the veins in his neck in an effort to alleviate the pain.
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Gronkh watches the "dialogue" between Yagajimoro and Golthwur with amusement. "Well this trip is already shaping up to be entertaining. Tax collectors we is! Maybe we can get our hands on old Heidmarch's tax returns - I'll bet she's got a silver or two stashed away somewhere!" He looks up, startled, realizing that the Venture Captain is still in the room. "What I mean to say is, while we're at it, we'll make sure that your returns are being properly filed and credited!"
Jeminda smiles awkwardly at Angela, happy to have found a sympathetic ear and a like-minded professional. "Oh, thank Abadar, you understand! Ravenmoor is 250 miles away, through forest, foothills and marshland. You can take two routes, but it won't make much difference to travel time. Either the Lost Coast Road or the Yondabakari River." Jeminda points to a map of Varisia pinned to the wall of the Meeting Room.
"Both routes meet up in Galduria; from there the rest of the journey is generally made via horseback along a well-traveled road on the western shore of the Lampblack River. Abandon the road at a bend in the river and follow a trail up along the river’s west banks - that'll take you to Ravenmoor."
"Um. Elias is a short, stocky man of Ulfen descent. He has a distinctive shock of red hair; he's not handsome. I fear he's been in too many fights, and his face bears the scars of them. He has a rough, patchy beard; and, um, he likes a drink. I'm afraid he's been waylaid by bandits, or worse! Please find him. He's the only family I have since my sister passed."
Diplomacy DC11
"The last that I heard from Elias was a short letter from Galduria, in which he boasted of making the journey along the Lost Coast Road from the town of Sandpoint in record time. He predicted that if the weather held, he’d be in Ravenmoor in no time and would be back in Magnimar within a week and a half. His letter from Galduria was frustratingly brief, and doesn’t even indicate where he was staying, so I've no clues from it at all."
Poor Jeminda looks rather shocked when Gronkh mentions strong-arm tactics. "Um, no! No, we don't do that in Magnimar! If they refuse to pay, please come back with a detailed report of their reasons for refusing. I'll handle things from there."
Jeminda looks to Golthwur: "Um, I did consider scrying, sir mage. Er, mages" she glances at Byron, not wanting to appear to be overlooking him. "I am no arcanist, but I am given to understand that scrying spells only reveal the immediate locality of the subject, and as such the likelihood of learning what has become of the back taxes through such means is remote. I do not wish to add unduly to the city's expenses. I know you understand." She looks at her feet again.
By the time Gronkh suggests "examining" the Heidmarch tax records, the Venture Captain has slipped out - but Jeminda blushes fiercely.
"Oh! Before I forget, my correspondence address..." she jots it down in Angela's journal.
You find that Sheila Heidmarch has prepared mounts and sufficient rations for your journey - all ready to depart when you are.
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As Jeminda describes the lengthy trip by horseback, he begins to squirm and his bones seem to creak. No worries, Golthwur, he thinks to himself, simply acquire a pair of teleportation scrolls--one for the journey there, the other for the return--and this mundane, simple task will have been dealt with and you may once again return to your studies.
Jeminda looks to Golthwur: "Um, I did consider scrying, sir mage. Er, mages" she glances at Byron, not wanting to appear to be overlooking him. "I am no arcanist, but I am given to understand that scrying spells only reveal the immediate locality of the subject, and as such the likelihood of learning what has become of the back taxes through such means is remote. I do not wish to add unduly to the city's expenses. I know you understand."
The wizard says nothing, but instead sinks back into his chair, folds his arms, and pouts. Oh, I understand alright. Too cheap for scrolls. His backside begins to hurt.
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Angela keeps up the sympathetic pats, readily noticing when the woman shudders a little at the mention of Elais.
She gives the woman a reproachful look. "Is there something you'R not telling us? Don't worry you can tell me. I have to deal with sensitive information all the time, it won't leave the room."
She gives a small sigh as Jeminda mentions the possibility that Elais has absconded with the money to Riddleport. "How likely is it he would have done that? And is there any place in Riddleport he likes to frequent in case he has?"
She gives Jeminda a bit of food from a pack of trail rations and a smile for the contact information. "Make sure to write, okay? Now, you should probably get headed back before your supervisors start wondering where you have gotten to."
”Um, I don’t think it’s likely that he absconded” Jeminda replies, ”unless he’s hit the bottle hard. If he has gone to Riddleport you’ll find him in the bars, um, except if he’s already taken ship somewhere. Best to pick up his trail in Ravenmoor first though, and see if there’s any evidence Elias actually collected the taxes.”
Mounts and provisions are provided for you, and the directions prove accurate. The horses are not too hard to handle, and the tack is almost palatable.
You follow the Lost Coast Road to Galduria. An evening of bar-trawling finds a single barkeep who remembers a man fitting Elias Kyle's description passing through several weeks ago, though he can't recall Elias talking about his work or where he was headed.
You follow the road along the river banks, just as you were directed, until you find the trail into the Varisian wilderness. The trail takes you into increasingly dreary landscapes of bogland and bleak moors. During the day, the preponderance of ravens in the skies gives subtle encouragement that you are on the right track to Ravenmoor, but as the sun sets, the mosquitoes come alive. The trail itself often winds away from the river and soggy boglands to avoid the worst of these pests, but before long insects become a constant annoyance.
Eventually, after near two weeks of travel, you reach the environs of Ravenmoor...
Pet
Pet
Mount
It's late in the morning. Ahead you spy a riverbank, and beyond the river are wooden buildings. Ravenmoor.
You hear the sound of a young boy’s voice calling out, “Aaaaaaplesaaaauce! Here boy! C’meer boy!” followed by some whistling, as if a child were seeking a missing puppy. This comes from the tall grass growing to the left of the road.
Pet
Pet
Combat? round 1
Byron
Gronkh
Byron's familiar
??
Yagajimoro
Jeskit
Golthwur
Tetch (Jeskit)
Angela
??
The bold may act!
From the right hand side of the road a creature emerges; an insectoid creature with two pairs of bat wings, a tangle of thin legs, and a needle-sharp proboscis. It flies up out of the undergrowth and straight for Angela.
The creature lands on Angela and wraps its many legs around her.
DC16
Combat? round 1
Byron
Gronkh
Bug
Yagajimoro
Jeskit
Golthwur
Tetch (Jeskit)
Angela
??
The bold may act!
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Golthwur attempts to add the following into his spell book.
His efforts cost him 110 gp.
When the party hears the sound of the boy's cry, Golthwur stops in his tracks.
"Say, does anyone hear that? The cry of a boy! And he whistles also!' Golthwur ponders aloud. "It is coming from there, in the tall grass, by the left side of the road." The old man points in the direction of the sound.
"And did you also hear that?" he inquires further. "A soft rustling in the grass?" He pauses and points now to a patch of grass on the opposite side of the road. "There, by the right side of the road." The man continues to point in both directions of where he claims he heard noise.
When a creature suddenly emerges and connects itself to a party member, Golthwur shouts joyously, "That's it! That must be it! The source of the sound I'd heard. It was that creature, there--the stirge!"
He then turns to the others in the party. "One of you should really take care of thatt." he suggests as he pauses to cast mage armor on himself before taking several steps backward, away from the grassy patches where he had heard he noises.
Jeskit swats the stirge with his staff - the creature falls off Angela and lies bleeding on the ground, its many legs feebly waving in the air...
Out of combat!
A small human boy comes out of the undergrowth on the other side of the track. The boy has a ragged mop of black hair, filthy home-spun clothes, and mud caking his hands and feet. "Applesauce! You done killed Applesauce! Waaaahhh!!" he bursts into tears at the sight of the stirge on the ground, and runs off towards the village.
"Applesauce" waves its legs pathetically.
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Angela, not quite fast enough to react to everything before the next thing happens, She takes Jeskit's hand and stands up, before staring, a bit dumbfounded. "Huh? Wow. That was not what I was expecting. First, thank-you for saving me Jeskit. Second, Someone..." She pasues for a second calculating who'd be best to go after the boy. Golthwur'll just make a mess of it, Byron and Gronkh aren't the most convincing, Yagajimoro probably doesn't know what is going on, and Jeskit would be best but he also hit applesauce... meaning I probably have to go. "Scratch that. I will go chase after the boy and get him calmed down." She pulls out a small vial glowing a soft blue from a pocket and tosses it to Byron. "Third, Someone see if they can get 'Applesauce' on his feet again. If you do, bring him to us."
She then chases after the boy and with the smile she'd tested and found the 'friendliest' moves in closer to the boy and in her most 'motherly,' voice comments, "Hey there, don't cry. We didn't realize Applesauce was yours. He jumped out a surprised us is all. We didn't mean to hurt your friend, and he'll be all right, okay? Now why don't you stop crying?"
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Gronkh watches the whole situation with a bemused look. The entire "battle" was over before he could even stir in his saddle. And now, it seems, the pathfinders are playing nursemaid to a bug! Gronkh has his doubts about how this will work out, but he fishes in his pouch for an apple to give Horace, and settles into his saddle to watch the entertainment.
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Golthwur cowers for a few moments longer, until he is satisfied that he is in no immediate danger. Regaining his composure, he again rejoins the party. Glancing down at the remains of the stirge and seeing the others trying to resuscitate it, he shakes his head and mumbles, "I don't see why all this fuss over such an unpleasant thing."
Getting a closer look at the gore resulting from the injuries inflicted by the flail weapon wielded by the strong arm of the nagaji, he comments smugly, "Well, the 'sauce' portion of its name would certainly appear to be apt."
Walking up to the elf, Golthwur speaks more loudly, "Healing magics? Why, of course, it falls upon magic to mollify the mistakes of the mundane. Why this all could have been avoided with a well-timed casting from a scroll of hold monster, could it have not?"
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"Well, no. Not actually." stumbles the response from Golthwur. "I mean, I don't have one with me, that is."
The old man pauses for a moment, subconsciously stroking his beard as he tries to think of a quick and clever response. After a few moments, he announces, "I was just simply noting how much more efficient magic is. Certainly in comparison to the methods these others chose to employ."
"Magic is the most effective and meritorious manner of dealing with all things within the mortal realm--when it is in proper supply, of course." he continues to pontificate in an effort to blame others for his shortcomings. "Had I been adequately informed that such would have been required of me when this task was first appointed? Why, then, I assure, I would undoubtedly have prepared to have just such a scroll on hand in advance. As it was, I was not afforded such and the result is..." he points to the splattered remains of the stirge. "Well...this."
Applesauce quivers as Yagajimoro applies his healing touch. The blood stops flowing, but the stirge remains listless on the ground. Byron forces Angela's infusion into the creature, painstakingly encouraging it to draw the magical liquid up through its proboscis even whilst it is not fully conscious.
Applesauce's slow feeding wastes much of the infusion, but nevertheless it consumes enough to restore the little stirge to full consciousness, if not to heal all of its extensive injuries. With only 3 of its 4 wings working, it flaps in haphazard fashion towards the river, Angela, and the little boy.
A little ways off, Angela manages to catch up to the child. But her attempts at placating him only serve to upset him further. 'Waah! Waah! Lizard-man done killed Applesauce! I'm a tellin' my Pa on you!" The boy retreats from Angela, his fists balled up in anger.
And then Applesauce comes flapping over. It seems to hesitate a moment - but the boy's eyes light up and he opens his arms wide, and Applesauce flies into his embrace. Or more accurately, given its injuries, it crashes into the boy's arms. "Applesauce! Oh, Applesauce, you're alive! You're alive! Oh you've got a broken wing! I'm a gonna bandage you up real good, and I'm a tellin' my Pa on that nasty lizard-man!"
Completely ignoring Angela, the boy runs for the ferry just down the trail. Angela spies a waiting ferryman.