Quest 1 (Inactive)

Game Master DoubleGold

Dot in here

Dot - Cecic will play this one, if the line up is as in the Recruitment thread.

Dot - Cecic will play this one, if the line up is as in the Recruitment thread.

Apologies Cecic should have been dotting in quest 2.

Dotting in for Pa

Brawling in!

...

A tall, broad-shouldered if hunched-over dwarf with thinning grey hair and bags under his eyes walks up the Impressive Stairwell to the lodge in Absalom. He still smells of spirits, is probably middling through a bout with scurvy, and fighting a nervous tick as a weeklong journey over the Inner Sea failed to replace his withdrawal symptoms with sea sickness, and would have paid for a public bath if he hadn't been clouded by persistent migraines causing all but the address of his destination to slip his memory completely. As he passes through the Towering Double Doors - despite his condition! - "The Knave" suddenly sprawls a half-toothed grin across his chapped lips upon taking in the sheer architectural wonder of the Great Hall, puzzling where exactly it was he was supposed to meet his contact. Knab accidentally scratches off a blackened scab from his spotty bald-ish head as he wanders around...

Fortiva, a young elven woman with a charming, crooked smile (for the people she likes) and a blade casually sheathed at her waist (for those she doesn't), tosses her long, honey-colored hair over her shoulders as she greets the others.
She grimaces ever-so-slightly at the sight of the Knave, but she is not the sort to offer her hand to anyone, so her discomfort is quickly hidden.

Her pale skin and the brightness of her blue eyes speak of a youth spent living in places deep underground, although her patched and well-worn armor, athletic build, and ease with the blade speak more of years spent as a mercenary.

A small slender Goblin with lots of scars, whose only clothing is a suit of leather armor, walks past, glancing at the hunched Dwarf and the blade-carrying Elven lady.

Phinick then hurries up, speeding down the corridor, pulling his anvil along behind him, muttering about "crafting, gotta go do crafting, work work work..."

A crossbow bolt falls out of a pocket as he scurries away.

In keeping with my cleric theme (Cecic). An elf glides into the room, her closely fitting yellow leather armour with its lines of black studs, is more a fashion accessory than it seems armour. She is haughty and with a certain arrogance, "I've arrived."

Dot in. Don't mind me. Still working on my sheet.

"I'm growing too old for this, and I don't like the desert heat...
So I'm leaving you.
Be safe!"

And the Goblin rides away on his war pony.

A young adult green-skinned Forest Goblin in her sixth year, short and slim, even for her kin, at just under 3 feet (less than 1 meter) and no more than 35 pounds (15 kgs) arrives.

Quite upbeat and cheerful she waves and smiles to all:
"Good to meet you folks!
I am Miss Loblin Crookedtoe."

She wears fur-lined raggedy well-padded clothes, with a dagger & a sling in her belt, alongside a pouch.
Across her chest she has a bandolier filled with bandages, herbs & suturing tools, as well as a satchel out of which--
--she now pulls a skull with a metal plate over the missing top:
“This is the real true skull of Bart Aphon! Better known as the Rattling Tyrant!”
And she starts to shake it by the eye sockets, like a vulgar maraca…

Sangel Morris stepped in garbed in one of his better vests. He came with his best foot forward and friendliness dangling from his sleeve. He either did not notice the awful smell wafting from the dwarf, or he was doing his damnedest in pretending so.

"Truly, Miss Crookedtoe?" He instantly strikes up conversation with the eccentric little goblin. "Does this Rattling Tyrant have a story to tell us?"

Knab, catching the sideways glance from the Taldan - Of all people! - pipes up "Well ain't you altogether over-dressed!" chiding, "Theatre's down the block with the rest of the minnesänger" adding insult to insult, before quickly turning the topic "Where'd that older goblin go? He looked - I dunno - competent? Suppose I'll be in lesser company here amongst you whipper-snappers" he grumps. Figures as much. Getting to the point: "So who's in charge here?" As he looks around the room, one eye twitching involuntarily, headache splitting his mood even further...

Translation (Dwarven)

"Oh, mister Dwarf! That poor Goblin worked so many years as a bartender in Plaguestone, in East Isger, his back aches. And he SOOO old, well in his 20 plus years of age I hear!
But you are safe with us, for we truly love to--"

Loblin shuffles her naked feet with crooked toes around, dancing a bit.
"--whip--"

"--and snap!"
She snaps her skull-rattle up in the air!

Turning back to the smiling man with the nice vest:
"Oh, yes, does the Rattling Tyrant have stories to tell!
You see, his name is Phart-Pabon and he is minellia... millenia old, I mean, at least... a hundred and fifty years old!"
She leans close to Sangel's ear and whispers: "He is the most powerful undead, a... lick!
He can lick people to death... yuck!."

She smiles again, and goes back to whipping and snapping:
"But let's dance to the sunlight over the Old Stump!"

As the young goblin mentions "back ache" the dwarf instinctively puts his hand on his own lumbar and lets a pained sigh escape. His rolls his eyes curmudgeonly as it sings, a tinge of resentment rising at being "bested" by a child a fraction of his own age at wordplay and wit.

Severely annoyed and mildly confused, he asks Sangel "Are you this child's legal guardian?" pointing his stubborn finger with stern emphasis at the man.

But despite this hard edge, Knab secretly vows that he will protect the girl from harm, if it comes to it, her youthful energy reminding the aging dwarf fondly of his "golden days" now long behind him...

"It's Knab, young lady. Knab Moghadam." Bowing his ringing head slightly in simple salutation.

Loblin curtsies: "So nice to meet you, Knab Moghadam. I am Miss Loblin Crookedtoe."

The elven woman, looks down both literally and figuratively on the dwarf and goblin, "Really, I'm having to work with you both. He nose twitches as she sniffs the air, "And at least a human, who judging by the cut of your cloth, might at least know what culture means." She glides past Sangel, a sweet smelling perfume lingers in the air as she flick back her golden and red flecked hair. Her movements seductive and all aimed at Sangel. "You may call me Hornietelle."

Turning back to the Miss Crookedtoe and Knab, she adds, "And you two call me Mistress Hornitelle." She looks with distain at the skull speaking slowly as if to a child, "And keep that revolting relic of the cold ground to yourself, don't bring it anywhere near me." With that her hands move down over her body as though brushing away the corruption of the relic. As her hands move, they accentuate the slim curves and the white flesh of her breasts that appear suggestively from her close fitting leather.

Loblin smiles at Knab: "We are special, we get to call her mistress."

She gives a sad look at Sangel: "I wonder what he did that she doesn't like him much?"

Then she smiles at the elven lady: "Have no fear, Mistress Hornitelle, I will keep Nar Baphot away from you... but he does not bite-- anymore."

Pa blinks in astonishment as he looks around the room at the motley assortment of other adventurers. "Well, I reckon this has got to be an interesting mission to call all us lot together. Anyone get a memo from that there Vent're Cap'n about what this is about?"
--------------
Pa looks relatively out of place, despite his pack of adventuring gear. While he wears a breastplate, between the hat, scythe, and piece of hay sticking out of his mouth, he looks more like he'd be ready for fieldwork than adventure.

"Hello, sir!", says the smiling Loblin.

Pa replies with something that just sounds... off coming from him.

Loblin jumps up and down excitedly:

A second Goblin lass comes skidding in.
She is just like the first one, obviously being her sister-- except that she is more athletic.

"Hello everyone! Sorry I'm late, I was at the Grand Lodge attending a conference."

Just did my 1st adventure, and thus purchased my Hireling Boon

Pa grins, happy to practice his Goblin.

"Awww, shucks. I reckon I said that right. I still think you speak it bettr'n'me." He turns to the new goblin who just showed up. "And nice to meet ya too. I'm guessin' y'all might be related, on account of you lookin' so similar?"

Pa turns to the group at large and says "I guess while we wait, some interductions might be in order? Y'all can just call me Pa. Erryone else does, an' it don't hurt nothin'. I'm mostly usually on some sort of se-cur-ity detail on these here missions. I never learned to use a sword right proper, but I've been swingin' around this thing most my gosh darn life." he says, indicating his scythe.

"How 'bout the rest of y'all?"

"Too big!" Knab retorts, indicating the farmer's crude implement "All you really need to get the job done is a sharp, stout blade" As he draws his clan dagger, he elaborates: "Been carrying this around since I was about Miss Loblin's age, and it's kept me alive longer than the all you here's years combined" Quickly looking over in Hornietelle's direction, but averting his eyes somewhat "Including you, missy!" And back to the group "Suffice it to say I often find that the simplest, most direct solution, is often the best." He pauses a moment to reflect, massaging his temple with a thick thumb, before adding "But, Mr. Pa, to each his own, no?" Genuine in intention, Knab nevertheless sizes the human man up, as might a soldier, sailor, or street fighter - and after a beat, seeming pleased with his analysis, changes the subject "Who are we supposed to meet here today?"...

The elven woman, is almost taken aback when 'Pa' appears and then starts speaking in the strange goblin tongue, or at least she presumes it's goblin. The little green creature answered back, only to be joined by yet another of it's kind. A relative no less, Am I even at the right place with these..... she can hardly bear to think the words, Pathfinders...and in my team. A shudder runs up her back.

She seeks solace and comfort as she fingers the leather whip attached to her black leather belt. She whispers in a sultry voice "Sting." the name warms her very soul.

A longbow made of finest elven elm, is flung over one smooth shoulder, whilst a dagger is held tight against the leather covering one of her long legs, a small thin black belt above her thigh like a garter keeping it in place. The soft red leather hilt with golden symbols sticks out of a sheath for a blade long, thin and ending in a deadly point. Her leg extends from firm and athletic buttocks tight in the leather armour.

It takes a second or even third look, to notice just above her breasts, moving slowly and seductively up and down, a small ornamental charm on a necklace, the charm is of a wasp.

Her arrogant tones ring in the words she speaks, "I have become accustomed to being kept waiting by our superiors in the organisation, as though it were a trial of character." though the word superior is said more with faint praise than truthful feeling. "You may wait with me, so we can all receive the proper instruction. As it appears we are to work together." as her voice drips out the words, disdainfully.

Sangel was content to observe for the moment. He smiled at the Goblin's clever pun and paid little heed to the Elven woman's disdain. He had already seen too many things that should not be- an ugly skull with a silly name was no reason to fret about... yet.

Sangel understood the power of words and was content to let these cohorts shower him with theirs. He supposed perhaps to gift them with an introduction. "It's a delight to meet you all. I am Sangel Morris. Poet, scholar, man of the lute, and at times a teller of fortunes for souls I deem of a particular value."

"Well, hello Pa!
That looks like a very fine scythe. I am sure you can fell trees with it."

She claps her hands joyfully:
"You are so right, Mr. Knab, the simplest is often the best. And I am proud to say I am often called simple... so I am often the best!"

Loblin curtsies before Sangel: "Oh, Poet Sangel, tells us our fortunes!"

She then whispers to her sister: "Pa wants MY teeth to stay sharp! Not yours..."

Poblin smiles at Pa: "Oh, we look so different, see..."
Poblin bends her arm to show a very slight bump of what might be muscle, on her scrawny arm.
"But we are sisters, indeed, Loblin and I, as well as Boblin, Coblin, Doblin, Hoblin, Koblin, Noblin, Roblin, Toblin, Woblin, Xoblin and Zoblin.
But none of us are as pretty as Sting, over there.
Unless, maybe Zoblin.
Zoblin knows how to use makeup without eating it all."

Poblin goes on to bore everyone with Goblin beauty-tips and too much information on the family.

At first, Sangel thought against it. But he shrugged and humored Miss Loblin. He produced a deck and fanned the cards out towards her face down. The deck appeared thicker than any Harrow deck. The backs were a checker of blacks and blues with arcane symbols dotting each square in white. "Ask a question and pick a card."

Loblin tries to peak under the cards, shrugs, points at one with her thumb:
"Which Crookedtoe sister will get married first?"

Sangel pulled the card chosen. The face revealed a human knight atop a horse against a backdrop of light rolling hills that appeared to be plowed for farming. The knight sat steady and contemplated a glowing yellow orb with a pentagram etched upon it. "Curious. The Knight of Pentacles. Haste can lead to folley. Plan accordingly and use the wisdom of the world you know. The victor shall be the one with a steady heart and sound mind."

Inserting himself "I don't need a deck of cards to know or understand my place." The dwarf comments. "Nor do I believe that what happens to us is dictated by what you might call fate." He adds. Those perceptive enough to read between lines may sense a bit of "baiting" in his tone. "The matter of fact is that we have all chosen to come here, and so, here we be now, by circumstances we have set into motion by our own actions." Knab looks around the group as if daring someone to disagree with him. Clearly his present state, as well as this waiting to meet the contact (whom he has no idea what they look like, and in fact, may soon begin doubting that his "choice" to be here was one well made!) has put him in a mood already spoiled.

Loblin claps her hands upon hearing Sangel, and then stares at Knab, thinking that he just spoke with a steady heart and sound mind, maybe he's the One?

Sangel paid the Dwarf a wry smile, giving his deck a shuffle. "What does it matter whether fate or choice brought us here? That is forever in the past. The future is forged in how the present is dealt."

He fanned the cards and offered knab to draw from the deck.

I'll get the introduction started

Handout #1: Facts about the Pathfinder Society
Your character is a member of an in-world organization known as the Pathfinder Society. The following facts are common knowledge for Pathfinder agents. 1. Pathfinder agents are adventurers who travel throughout the world, exploring new places and chronicling both history and modern lore. 2. The motto of the Pathfinder Society is Explore, Report, Cooperate. 3. The Pathfinder Society publishes the records of its most exciting and significant missions in a series of journals called the Pathfinder Chronicles. Most of these Chronicles are available to the public. 4. The Pathfinder Society’s bases of operation are called lodges. The largest and most prominent of these lodges is the Grand Lodge in Absalom. 5. The symbol of the Pathfinder Society is the Glyph of the Open Road, which appears at the bottom of this handout. 6. Most Pathfinders carry a type of magical compass called a wayfinder. Because wayfinders are rarely seen outside of the Pathfinder Society, they often serve as symbols of membership in the organization. 7. The Pathfinder Society leaders agents are most likely to interact with are called venture-captains. Venture-captains organize missions for other agents, and they typically manage their own lodges. At the top of the Pathfinder Society’s hierarchy are the Decemvirate, also known as “The Ten.”

Venture-Captain Norden Balentiir invites the PCs to join him in the lush gardens outside the Sandswept Hall.

The shaded gardens outside the Sandswept Hall provide a welcome respite from the sweltering midday sun. VentureCaptain Norden Balentiir reaches up to one of the date palms overhead, pulling down a bunch of ripe fruit to share with the table. “They’re good for much more than shade, my friends. But I did not call you here to enjoy my garden. A few months ago, I finally received confirmation that we would be able to execute one of the last excavation permits issued by the Osiriani government. The site is a desert location where the dunes have shifted, revealing the beginnings of a staircase leading down beneath the sands. “The Osiriani government is protective of its cultural history, and with recent changes in their stance on allowing foreign archaeologists to work inside their borders, I wasn’t sure this permit would even stand. The bureaucracy was rather slow this time around, but it turns out we were approved before they stopped issuing permits. I’ve already secured your provisions, including camels, tents, food, water, tools to perform the excavation, and a map to the site. As you know, it may take many weeks to clear the site of debris. The desert can be unforgiving, so don’t hesitate to return here to rest as needed. “The government has already sent guards to oversee the site and protect against any potential thieves. Remember—keeping up a good reputation in Osirion is vital to the Pathfinder Society’s continued presence here. Don’t antagonize the guards.”
You can ask him other questions, but here is the asked questions and answers in the quest.
What sort of site are we traveling to? “The shifting winds revealed only the top portion of the staircase. What lies beyond it remains a mystery.”
Do you have any advice for traveling in the desert? “Drink plenty of water. Travel near dawn and dusk to take shelter from the midday sun, and bundle up at night. Also, the desert heat can play tricks on your eyes. Stick to the map, use your common sense, and you’ll be fine.”

Loblin waits with trepidation to see if Knab will draw a card, and which one?

The tall elven woman looks to the Venture Captain, Mr Balentiir, We have a long travel in front of us, how confident are you that the road is safe?" Her voice is silky smooth, but in the tone is a deference to the Venture Captain, not shown to her companions. "Do my companions and I" she says flourishing a hand that waves in a circle around her, "have any need for extra clothing or protection from the sun and night? If so we need a merchant to trade?" her eyebrows raise slightly and a small, but endearing smile closes her lips.

Then holding out one of her elegant hands, slim and long fingers open toward the Venture Captain, "Perhaps you should give me the permit for safe keeping, so that I may show it to the entrance guardians." Her head tilts to the right.

Knab, initially unfriendly to the idea, will respond depending on how Sangel fares at a check to Coerce, Make an Impression, or Request, against Knab's Will DC of 17.

If the Poet succeeds:

If the Poet fails:

Loblin wonders why the elf-lady-mistress-Sting would want to keep words?
But it takes all sorts...

She waits to see what Knab will do.

It seems even the human is a child after all, oh well let them play. I hope their skills are better than their play when it comes to it. Hornietelle stands almost as still as a statue, as she watches from on high the shenanigans of Crookedtoe, Knab and Sangel.

make an impression: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

Sangel smiled as the card revealed a winged figure standing before a shore. The Sun crests over mountains amidst the background, The winged figure holds a cup in each hand, pouring water from one to the other. "Temperence. Balance is called for. There is yet light on the horizon if we seek it. But you may want to watch what you drink."

He allows the dwarf to chew on those words as his attention returns to the Venture Captain.

It's a little late for that advice! Knab thinks to himself. More than a little perturbed, the dwarf squints his good eye to read from the pamphlet, eager to learn more about the Code of this new Society he has, through a series of unfortunate events, recently decided to join.

"Explore... Report... Cooperate..." He mumbles to himself. "That last one will be a little difficult I reckon" Looking over first at Sangel, then at Hornietelle, before continuing "...What's this about a magic compass? I don't think I got mine coming in!?" He protests, feeling as though he has somehow 'missed out', and reads further "...The Decemvirate, huh? Betcha they're a bunch of low-grade bureaucrats..." His own unwanted commentary continuing...

In the garden, Knab stands in the sun, arms crossed, unsure of whether he is ready to 'Cooperate' with this 'Norden Balentiir', until the captain's words turn towards an 'Excavation Site', which piques Knabs interest greatly, as the stubborn dwarf suddenly finds himself leaning in to capture every detail. He grabs a fresh date. Perhaps I can restore my 'Balance' starting with this? He thinks to himself, not remembering the last time he had eaten fruit that wasn't dried. (Which, while serving well as a logistical necessity, in so doing is robbed of it's vital life essence, not unlike how Knab has felt himself this last year, likening himself to a dried out, tasteless, wrinkled mass)...

Reflecting outloud now: "The last time I was in Sothis, me and my band were smuggling ugly furless cats across the Inner Sea to Katheer, and let me tell you, they did not appreciate being on a rocking boat! Our team got so scratched up! My old mate Wekk nearly lost an eye! We had to douse him in sea water, and man did he scream, and threaten each one of our lives in turn..." Knab fondly recounts an old tale, before looking around to realize that this perhaps wasn't the appropriate time nor place, 'righting' himself as quickly as launching off on a tangent:

"So, Captain Balentiir, is our permit to this newly discovered site exclusive?" And also "Would it be possible to secure additional laborers at a nominal cost?" Looking around again at the children, whores, and minstrels of this company "Else we may have our work quite cut out for us indeed" Trading a knowing glance with Pa, if'n he should be so receptive...

Loblin looks at Knab, is HE the one who did the Katheer run with twelve parsnips?

"Well shoot, seems like that's most anything I'd need to know. I'm sure Miss Sting here will keep that notice all nice and new lookin', on accountin' of her appearance an' all. She is right though, maybe gettin' some new clothes to handle the heat here would be a good idear. I'm used to workin' in the field during the day an' all, but this sun here sure does beat that heat."

Aside from that, Pa seems pretty comfortable with the questions other people are asking.

He sidles up towards Knab and then looks around the room and shrugs, leans down, and whispers (though still loud enough that most of them can hear it), "I think the li'l goblins got enough enthusiasm to be helpful so long as we keep an eye, and maybe them magic-y types have some spells or somethin' what'll help. But good ask!"

Looking over at Hornietelle No, I can't promise you the roads are safe, I don't back that with a money back guarantee. As far as extra clothing, just remember desert is really hot in the day and really cold at night. Yes, there is stuff in here you can buy before you leave. Just make your purchases.
thievery/sleight of hand: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18 You know I slipped that permit into your coat pocket when you weren't looking, right?

He looks over at Sangel Watch what I drink? Are you implying my water is actually Vodka?

He then looks over at the Dwarf Huh what? Oh yeah, you may do that. You can tell he also thinks you are a crazy dwarf.

He then looks over at PA the farmer You talking to me, or you talking to them?

Sangel allowed the clarity of the conversation to reveal itself. He bided the time by shuffling his deck once more. These elves seemed to take things quite literally. Duly noted.

"You don't need to worry, Mistress Hornitelle. I'm from around these parts - actually, due west of here, to be exact - but as the Captain says, to protect your pearly skin, all we need to do is travel outside of the hours of midday, when the sun is at it's apex."

With that - assuming everyone is finished questioning Norden - Knab grabs the remaining dates, scoops them into his knapsack, and prepares to depart, but not before thanking the man, reassuring him that "We'll be in touch", and reaching out his off-hand for the young goblin - as one would for a child before crossing a busy highway road - speaking to her with barely-contained (even youthful!) excitement in his voice: "Shall we?"...

Loblin takes Knab's hand - glancing at Poblin and casting her sister a big smile.

"Oh, we shall, we shall!"

And she sings along as they leave, skipping along:

"Skip, skip, skip to my Knab
And I'll take you by the hand
If you will be my dancin' partner
We will dance to beat the band"...