An Old and Broken World

Game Master Simeon

He watched the Vulture fly away with a nod. It was strange he was kind of glad they didnt have to kill the animal. Hopefully it stayed away long enough they could get what they needed and be long gone. He paused when sprig mentioned the idea of having the spider climb up the spire and he nodded... that was one hell of an idea.

Sprig, I love the spider idea. That said, do you have a method of communicating what you want to it? Correct me if I’m wrong but even a summoned spider would have 0 int.

Saraon looks at the spider and then at Sprig.

"It's a spider, Sprig. It's not going to understand what you're looking for," he says.

"Why, don't some of you folk have that, whaddyacallit, wild empathy?" Ronan asks, oblivious to Saraon's differential training.

There are several traits, feats, and archetypes that enable wild empathy/handle animal to work with vermin, but I doubt any of us have them.

Sprig looked at the spider as it sort of skittered about. "Ah have to admit, this is th' first time that Ah've tried to command a summon to do something other than defend me..."

Approaching it gently, the kobold attempts to talk to the spider about what he wants it to do.

It's not going to work, but Sprig's going to try because he doesn't know that. For some reason I thought all summoned creatures shared a kind of telepathic bond with their summoner.

"Why, don't some of you folk have that, whaddyacallit, wild empathy?" Ronan asks, oblivious to Saraon's differential training.

There are several traits, feats, and archetypes that enable wild empathy/handle animal to work with vermin, but I doubt any of us have them.

"The Halcyon Circle didn't train me in those arts...I was more to be an emissary to two-legged creatures than four-legged ones," Saraon comments with a shrug.

The spider dimly understands the command to climb up the spire, and it does as it's told, leaving behind a sticky trail of webbing that will make Hezekh's attempt much easier.

I'd rule that it'll take basic commands (i.e. defend me, go there) but it can't do anything with finesse or complexity.

The magus scales the spire with only a bit of difficulty, finding that there is indeed a large metal cask marked with the number 1. With the rope secured at the top, Hezekh's able to first lower down the cache before going down himself.

The lid's easy enough to pop off, and inside are several boxes made from wood or a strong, clear material that most of the party has seen before, (or heard of from the spirits as something called apalastic in Ronan's case).

One box contains part of a technological weapon, the last piece that the party needed in fact. It'll take some doing to sort out exactly how it all fits together though.

Another contains ten silvery disks, each of them with intricate patterns that glow with a soft white light. A burlap sack contains 3 dozen tubes with images of various foods on them, though chickens, apples, and something that looks like a long, bright pink tube are the most common designs, along with what looks like the symbol of Ilannara, the Fallen God of fertility. The last box contains two metal boxes within it, that upon opening them are full of medical supplies of unparalleled quality.

There's also 1000GP in assorted coins and useful bits of scrap.

"So this here's the last one, eh? Guess whatever we've been piecing together should have everythin' it needs now." Sprig tries to glean some knowledge about the collected items.

Knowledge:Arcana: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29
Appraise: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14
Craft: Firearms: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

The kobold shakes his head. "Ah've always been more of an alchemist than a gunsmith, it'll prolly be a bit beyond me t' fix these." With a cursory glance at the holy symbol, he says, "I have no idea what that's supposed to be."

It's been a bit since I updated this, but i think this is our treasure Stock now. We might have sold some of the less useful looking things

Ronan watches with great interest as the kobold communes with his summoned spider and the spider makes Hezekh's climb easier before poofing back to its own plane of existence. "Well I'll be," he marvels as he watches the iron-armed man do his work.

I have the Technology feat, so can I roll Knowledge (engineering) and Heal checks to identify any of the unidentified items? Just tell me how many checks to roll of what type, and I'll get to work.

Knowledge (engineering), Technologist, Guidance: 1d20 + 13 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 13 + 1 = 18
Heal, Technologist, Guidance: 1d20 + 18 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 18 + 1 = 23

Well that's terrible.

Ronan crowds in towards the box to see what they have found, attempting to identify anything that he can, but likely mistaking numerous things in his zeal.

I'll say for now that A. with enough time Ronan can ID all the items and B. while traveling to the next location Ronan will that much time, as it'll take at least a day. With that in mind, where would you all like to go next? The 2 spots you're closest to are the Glade (HQ of the Halcyon Circle) and the bunker where the mysterious chip that the party found (and that the spirits told Ronan about) was supposed to go.

"Oh yeah," Katheryn started to Ronan's statement. "These on's be odd for sure." She added with a smirk and a wink. After all there was no way not a single one here wasn't odd.

"What'd be right odd is continuing on. I hear there's a chip what you all have and a bunker to get off to to get it plugged in. I reckon that'd be a mighty good next stop, less you have a better place to be."

Ronan delivers this monologue from the back of the wagon, his eyes studying a colorful syringe with a seemingly home-carved set of multi-hued magnifying lenses perched on the bridge of his nose. He taps his finger on the syringe to agitate the liquid, shakes it slightly, and holds it up to the sunlight. Anyone looking through the other side sees his eye magnified and bulbous on the other side in the glass distortion. Odd indeed.

"Hmmm..." Sprig thought aloud. "The last time we were in the area, we couldn't quite figure out what the chip was supposed to do. Since th' only folk innerested in getting that thing plugged in were a bunch of bandits, we decided to put that aside 'til we found out more. Or at least dealt with th' bandit problem."

With a shrug of his small shoulders, he continued. "Ah suppose it can't hurt t' take another looksee. Bandit activity's been pretty quiet recently, n' now that we got an expert maybe we can find out a bit more."

Ronan grins at the notion of being an expert. "Well I don' know if'n what th' bandits wanted with it, but I'll take a looksee n'figure it out."

ID’ed tech items are spoilered below, I’ll move us along later today or tomorrow.

The party leaves the last cache, heading to the mysterious bunker where the the mysterious chip that set this whole journey in motion was bound to go.

As the party travels, Ronan spends the journey equal parts communing with the spirits of the past and deciphering their insights by studying the techology, sorting out the functions of the various items that the party has found, as well as figuring out that the parts of the tech weapon are can be assembled to make an arc rifle, an ancient and advanced weapon capable of firing blasts of crackling electricity.

Come late afternoon, the party reaches a hill overlooking the bunker. It's a cube of what looks like stone protruding from the side of a large, rocky hill, a metal door set on the side of said cube. A camp sits out front, a large tent with a roaring fire in front of it, as well as a wagon full of supplies parked next to it. Sitting by the fire is a large, misshaped figure, looking similar in size to the hill giant the party had encountered before but far more warped and twisted by mutation.

Saraon eyes the sword a bit, wondering if he could learn how to use it...even though it may require a bit of retraining on his part...

When they arrive at the bunker and spot the creature, he makes a concerned sound.

"This could be a difficult fight..." he says.

Ronan excitedly discusses what he has found on the group's travels, expounding on various theories and stories. It's difficult to tell how much of what he says is wishful thinking and how much is legitimate insight, but he at least seems to know what he is talking about regarding the function of the items.

At the bunker, he narrows his eyes at the (maybe) hill giant and tries to call on his knowledge of it.
"If'n we need to fight, sure. But maybe they're open to talk."

Knowledge (local), ID creature: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (16) + 12 = 28 Not bad! How many questions might I get for this?

Not likely, given their reputation, but who's to say until we try?

This beast is trueblooded mutant, the heritage that spawned it so far warped in the distant past that knowing truly what it is would be nearly impossible. It’s not as strong as a hill giant though. That said, the mutant is no slouch, with most mutants possessing a variety of uncanny abilities. As for it’s capabilities for diplomacy, it’s difficult to say. Some mutants are little more intelligent than animals, others are intelligent and live normal lives, others even possess alien and twisted intellects that make baseline creatures look simple by comparison.

Ronan shares what he knows of mutants in general. "Well I ain't the most diplomatic type. If'n one of you wants to try, all it loses us is the element of surprise, whatever that's worth. Any pref'rences?"

I'm still new to the party, so I don't know your usual terms of engagement.

Typically we try to talk our way out of most situations, but our luck with mutants hasn't been great on that front.

Sprig squinted wearily at the creature. "Well, it seems t' have enough sense to use fire and set up a camp... or at least make use of one. Ah'd say it might be capable of speech 'r at least some form of diplomacy."

Clenching and unclenching his metal fist, Hezekh shrugs. "Y'all talkers best take the lead. But I'll be ready if'n you fail."

The party heads down towards the creature. As they get closer it stands up, studying the group as they approach. It sighs deeply, saying in a decently articulated if strangely accented voice full of boredom, "What is your purpose here? You must explain yourself or I will be forced to attack!"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15 Well shoot.

Ronan jingles and jangles as he holds his hands up. "Hello there! A nice fire you've got there." He looks at the others and decides to try the honest route. "We'd like to get into that bunker there, see? Any way you would let us pass to get on in?"

Diplomacy to aid someone else's primary check: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12 Have a +2!

Not sure if that boost would apply to Sprig's Bluff, but that's his only social skill, so we're rolling without!

Bluff: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19

Sprig shrugged his tiny shoulders. "Jes' figured we'd try our luck with a little salvagin'. We passed by the place a while back 'n figured we could poke around a bit when we were next in th' area. Sometimes tradin' for goods just ain't enough, gotta keep the merchandise stocked up and food on the table. Be happy to trade some of our stock iff'n you'd like."

The kobold looked about a bit before returning his gaze to the mutant. "Though Ah was under the impression this place was abandoned, what brings you here, friend?"

Saraon's eyes widen behind his mask. He'd NOT been expecting this mutant to be so articulate.

"Sprig speaks the truth," he says. Technically, he thinks to himself. Salvage IS our purpose here, just more involved than most scavengers would perform.

"We will keep peace if you will. May we know your name? I am Saraon Duskdragon of the Halcyon Circle." he says with a bow.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 9 + 2 = 29

I haven't completed my level up yet, but Saraon WILL take another rank in Diplomacy, so I figured I'd use it here along with Ronan's bonus. Sorry it took so long to respond: I was celebrating my birthday!

The mutant grumbles, looking rather taken aback by the party's friendly demeanor, "Oh, my name. Well, nobody ask me my name in a long time. Uuuuuh, call me, uuuuh."

It seems to be taking quite some time to think, "Gog. Good name." It's tone suggests that it's congratulating itself on coming up with a good name.

"Brain Man tell Gog to stand here, keep people away. Brain Man scary, not look right. Too much metal on brain man, not enough meat. Not like Gog. So boring here, nothing to do, only looking at birds that fly around, throw pebbles at hills, light things on fire. Sometimes people come along, bring cart with food for Gog, but they never wanna talk. Always stinky and mean they are."

It furrows it's eyebrows and points at Bas, "Kinda look like that one."

It shrugs, "Ugh, Gog so bored. Gog want do something else. If you go in, tell Brain Man that Gog wanna leave."

"Well hello there, Gog. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Saraon introduced himself, so I might as do the same. The name's Ronan, Ronan Del'Arte, at yer service." The samsaran bows his head and tips his hat at the mutant. "I'm mighty sorry to hear you're bored, though. We can talk with ye, if'n ye like. Like, oh I dunno," although he knows exactly where he's rambling along to, "How'd you get to workin' for Brain Man?"

The mutant was sharper than he looked, that was for sure. If the group wanted to get information out of him, they had to make it seem like they weren't a threat. But from the sound of things, this Brain Man would be a threat. But what sort of threat was he? That would take some sussing out.

"D'you like tea, Gog? I can brew us up a pot of something right nice while we chat."

Also, happily belated birthday, Saraon!

"Tea, dunno what that is. Is that like sand? Gog hate sand. Only good part of this is not as much sand as there used to be. Spent all time before this out in the desert. Little mean guys came along, said they'd give plenty of food, then got to hurting when Gog said no. Went along with it after that. Now here, with plenty of food and no sand but can't do what Gog wanna."

"Why can't you? You don't have to do what Brain Man says if you don't wanna." Hezekh says, edging forward from the rear.

Ronan chuckles whimsically when Gog asks if tea is like sand, careful to keep the laugh sounding pleasant rather than judgmental. "Ah, no, tea's nothin' like sand. That's coffee ye might be thinkin of. Tea ye jus' heat up water and pour it over some leaves or flowers or whatever n' let it sit and it makes the water taste nice. You can have it cold, too, I reckon, but it takes longer."

Ronan nods at what Hezekh says, too, curious what the mutant's response will be. If tea didn't work, alcohol tended to be a surefire way to loosen lips.

Gog scowls, "Brain Man have..." It motions like it's holding a rifle while making odd sounds, "Thing like this, shoot fire at Gog sometime and..." The large mutant struggles with words for a second, rubbing it's temples, "Does things to Gog's head usually, scrambles it up, hard to think, hurts so bad in Gog's head when trying to get over the ridge. Been stuck in this valley for so long."

Ronan listens carefully to Gog's story. Brain Man definitely sounded dangerous. "Well that sounds unpleasant. I'm fixin to cast a small spell, so don' you worry now. This jus' lets me see things a bit easier."

The samsaran begins detecting magic, raising his hands to his eyes and wiggling his fingers rapidly in front of his field of vision. There is a light cyan glow in a pattern not unlike small blood vessels reaching across his temple to his eye, and his vision opens to magical auras.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22
Knowledge (engineering): 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (3) + 13 = 16

Is the scrambling a magical effect or a technological effect?

Ronan feels something, a malicious coil of magic embedded deep in the mutant’s mind. It’s an insidious instance of psychic magic, an enchantment designed to sap intelligence and cause immense pain if certain conditions are met.

Saraon's eyes shift from caution to concern. Gog seemed like a decent person, and he was clearly being exploited here.

"Gog, is the Brain Man inside the ruin now?" he asks.

Ronan's eyes narrow with some scrutiny as he registers some of what must be happening here.

Well I'll be. Some mind-bending shenanigans.

<"He's enchanted,"> Ronan yips in Draconic to the two in the group he knows know the tongue (though his old dialect is more whistled than barked).

Gog nods, ”Brain man never goes out.”

Ronan allows his vision to return back to normal and he digs around in his pack for some herbs with which to make tea. "Gog, if we try t'go into the bunker, will you have to try'n stop us?"

"Dunno, don't think so. Most people just try to hurt Gog then they have to get smashed. You don't try that, so you can go."

"Oh well then I'm mighty glad we're not most people." Ronan picks out a few small cheesecloth bags, smells them in turn, and then holds them up to Gog to smell. "Before we go meet Brain Man, what kind of flavor would you like for your tea?"

One of the bags smells grassy, light, and fresh; another earthy, floral, and sweet; the last is more piquant, like a peaty bog with notes of smoked pine and (believe it or not) roasted pig flank.

Gog immediately goes for the pine and pig flank bag.

"Oooh, a man of refined taste! Most people balk at lapsang souchong, but it's one of my favorites, too, mhmm."

The samsaran parcels out an appropriate amount for his kettle, conjures some fresh water into the pot, and then positions the tin over the fire to start boiling.

"Anyone else for tea? I've a few cups. No sense goin' in thirsty."

"Certainly," Saraon says with a nod. "Thank you, Ronan!"

Sprig shrugged "It's fairly popular amongst some of mah brethren, but Ah've always prefered more fermented drinks."

Looking over the mutant, the kobold eyed him warily. Enchanted, eh? Can't say that I like the idea. It's not that different from what the mutants of Glowing Springs were doing. Though I guess the shoe's on the other foot here. Still doesn't make it right.

A familiar reptillian grin spread across Sprig's features. "Ah think it'd be a little hypocritical of me t' judge someone purely on appearances." Not that I'm given much choice sometimes... "You seem like an alright fella Gog, how about we see about getting you free of this Brain Man, let yah walk free t' live wherever you like."

Hezekh knows he's no diplomat, so he stays quiet, but keeps a careful eye on Gog, just in case something they say trips his enchantment somehow.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (15) + 0 = 15

Gog sips his tea, seemingly quite enjoying it. He nods to Saraon, ”Would be nice to be free of Brain Man.”

Any preparations y’all want to make before heading in?

I think that was Sprig you meant to address, GM!

"The next time you see us, you'll be free Gog, I promise," Saraon says, making the sign of the sun with his thumb and pinky. "I swear on the rising and setting of the Sun."`

As the group is enjoying their tea, Ronan sees a beetle scuttling across the sands. An idea strikes him, and he reaches out to snatch the varmint. "How'd you like to help me out, eh?" he says, although there is no possible way that the beetle can understand him. The samsaran pulls out a small bottle of honey and drips a drop on his finger. The beetle seems almost compelled towards the honey, reaching out with delicate pincers to taste the stuff as Ronan waves the fingers of his hand over in an almost enchanting way.

"All right now, you go and find out what's what inside there, and then come back and tell me whatever you learn, you hear?"

Ronan places the beetle back on the ground and scuttles inside the bunker, mission in hand.

Casting Insect Scouts, for whatever the GM chooses to give us.

That's a really cool spell!

Bug Time: 1d6 ⇒ 5

The beetle scuttles off, wriggling it's way through a crack in the door and vanishing. It takes a while for it to return, and the shadows have grown long by the time it comes back and scampers back up onto Ronan's finger.

He feels a layout come into his head, a complex once pristine in a forgotten age but now ravaged by time, overgrown and dilapidated. A warren of rooms fills one side of the complex, filled with things that the beetle's mind cannot even comprehend enough to remember. The other side holds a door that, despite all it's efforts, the beetle simply could not get through.

Mechanically, I'll have a section of the map already revealed for you all.