DM Khel's Questapalooza (Inactive)

Game Master Khelreddin

At the request of Venture-Captain Calisro Benarry, a small group of Pathfinder agents find themselves on board the Glorious Payoff, Benarry’s ship, as it sails down the Garundi coast. Several peaceful days into the journey, Venture-Captain Benarry asks that the Pathfinders meet her at eight bells in the afternoon watch (which a helpful crewman explains mean “four o’clock”).

As a splash of salt crashes over the bow of the Glorious Payoff, Calisro Benarry deftly steers her ship through a hidden channel, carefully navigating through the barely visible rock and coral that protrude slightly from the water’s surface. Behind the Payoff, a slightly smaller ship—the Sea Sparkle—follows, making every effort to follow Benarry’s course as closely as possible. On the port beam, the deep green of the Garundi coast is illuminated by the late afternoon sun.

“See those gulls?” Benarry shouts over the flapping of the sails, “that’s the sandbar we’ll be dropping you off at. Barely sticks up over the waves, but the seabirds flock over it to feast on crab.”

“As I explained earlier, Vidrian—you might have known it as Sargava not that long ago—needs explorers to chart the trade routes to the south that they couldn’t use back when it was ruled by Cheliax. Simple enough bit of adventuring, but the new nation’s been having trouble with the Free Captains of late. Turns out when Vidrian broke free of Cheliax, the locals stopped paying the pirates protection money, and now Vidrian ships are the number-one plunder target in the Shackles. What’s more, the pirates have set up a blockade preventing our ships from making it down to Vidrian to assist.”

“Thankfully, we’ve got someone on the inside. Stella Fane, a Free Captain with ties to the Firebrands and the Pirate Council, has been in contact with the Society. She and members of the Society’s leadership have put together a fairly clever plan to help the Society’s ships pass through the pirate blockades unharmed. The Wind and the Waves willing, the Payoff and the Sparkle can sail to Vidrian, no problem. While we’re doing that, I’ve arranged transport for you to Port Peril to meet with Fane and get her to sign this contract making the whole thing official—she may be a pirate, but she’s the kind that holds to her word. You’ll need to avoid drawing too much attention until after the deal is done. Once she’s signed the contract, her friends in the Pirate Council will ratify it and there won’t be much the lesser captains can do. Be careful. Anyone looking to put a stop to this need only ensure that contract never gets signed.”

As the ship sails closer to the sandbar – which appears to be little more than a very slightly elevated patch of sand in a wide-open stretch of water – Benarry asks, ”Any questions before we drop you off?”

Vercingeterax is a quite appropriately, a mountain of a man. His wild and unkempt flaxen hair cascades down his shoulders, and tangles with his beard. His corded muscles are impressively striated, and ripple with his easy (and not always appropriate) laughter. Across his back is a sword which is positively too massive for most, and would look more at home in an ogre's hand.

"What's the smart plan you have? Also, if you wanted subtle and not a lot of attention.... why did you bring me?! AHAHAHAHA!"

Hampton Candlewood, a bald half-elf with Garundi blood, has been pleading with the Society to send him "somewhere warm".

He begins to realize he needs to be more specific. Much, much more specific.

Swatting away several nuisance insects, the Ranger raises his right palm to Rax in greeting, a slight smile on his face in acknowledgement, and ponders the mission. So our intent is use subterfuge to gain entry so that the contract can be signed, he says. I would agree with Rax and ask what the plan to get us past the blockade is. Also, to know how, er...how unobtrusive we should be. In case some of the pirates get unruly or violent.

"Not to worry, the blockade is mostly about keeping ships from stopping the pirates from plunderin'," Benarry responds. "And you won't have a ship to worry about!" She chuckles a bit, then says, "As I said, you'll be on the sandbar for a bit, and a friend with a boat out of Port Peril will come to collect ye. As to how low a profile ye'll need to keep - you've got the right of it, Port Peril can be a rowdy place, so a punch-up probably won't be a problem. What ye want to do, though, is make sure nobody knows ye're there to get this contract signed. You can ask after Fane, track her down and git it signed, and you'll get collected the same way you were dropped off."

Looking out at the approaching sandbar, then scanning the horizon, she adds, "But if anyone finds out about the deal before Fane can sign it and pitch it to her allies on the Council, well, there'll be the devil to pay and no pitch hot, if ye know what I mean."

Rax cracks his knuckles. "Got it boss."

A muscular Shoanti woman with some obvious elven parentage nods. She's clearly comfortable with all the wind and water, and has even been augmenting the ship's sails with the occasional conjured gust of wind during the trip. "Gozreh willing, this will be an easy trip. A brawl with this group shouldn't be an issue, and the easiest way for us to hide our purpose is to not talk about our club. It's probably the first rule, really."

The druid ponders for a moment more, and in that momentary pause a leshy wearing an orange peel helmet pokes its head out from behind her leg. The tiny creature, not much taller than two feet in height, has a large leaf attached to each stickly arm. A small raspberry bush seems to grow from its back. It speaks up, tiny voice struggling to be heard. "I don't know who Stella Fane is. Is she nice? What's she like?"

"Can we talk about my sword? Can't talk about my club. But have you seen this beauty?"

Rax looks around, waiting.

Brynn blinks for a moment, then looks down at the wooden club hanging at her side. "That is not what I was talking about. But yes, sure. You can talk about your sword. It might be you'll have to find someone willing to listen, but... I think we're losing sight of our purpose."

The tiny leaf leshy steps out from behind the half-elf and walks over to Vercingeterax. "Hi. I'm Sprig. I'm only two weeks old! What's a 'sord'?"

If you two are quite finished, Hampton says crossly, we should prepare. As I recall, our illustrious Venture-Captain, er, Captain...has a supply stash aboard, yes?

Hampton will buy a wayfinder but will be careful to hide it from sight. Can't recall if we get a discount on that as Society members but he has enough for full price if needed.

"Sprig! What a funny name for twig... Wait.. HAHAHAHA That's grand!"

Vercingeterax unshoulders his greatsword. "This my plant friend is my sword. She doesn't have a name yet, because she has not earned one. But she's a fine blade."

He nods to Hampton. "I'm currently showing Sprig my supplies. I'm ready."

Benarry looks down as the tiny voice asks her a question, and she chuckles again and says, ”Well, at least someone in this crew is asking questions about the mission, eh? As for Fane, not sure I'd call her nice, since she is a pirate. She’s a pretty recent figure on the Shackles scene, as is her ship, the Risen Albatross. Word is, the Chelaxians bought her crew out from under her and tossed her overboard at sea. Some say she died and it’s her ghost sailing the waters and sinking slaver boats and Chelaxian ships left and right. I don’t believe it myself—never heard of a ghost that could put away as much rum as she’s been known to, that’s for sure.”

Captain Benarry pauses a bit in thought, then adds, “I don’t know her well, but Fane and I have crossed the same seas and shared the same ports a time or two. And in case you’re curious about the contract, it’s a long-term trade agreement, mostly trading information. We tell her where we’ve had reports of slavers—she hates them and it’s no skin off Society members’ backs to let her know—and she approaches us first with any information she receives regarding archaeological sites and historical discoveries. Our obligation requires us to make the information exchange each time one of our ships passes through the Shackles, so attacking a Pathfinder ship is the same as attacking Stella and her allies on the Pirate Council. Smartest deal we’ve made, if you ask me. But do be careful with the contract itself, by the way. It’s all magicked shut, so only Fane can read and sign it.”

"Oooo! It's made of metal. How interesting. What do you do with it? And how do you know it's a 'she'? Brynn explained how reproduction works on animals, but I can see this isn't an animal. Are the ovaries in that bit at the end?" Sprig asks, pointing at the crossguard of the sword.

Brynn however snaps her attention back to the Venture-Captain. "Sorry, Captain Benarry. Obviously we'll not open the contract. And I'm fine holding onto it for the group. But I'd say you've warned us enough about losing the contract. I'm guessing there are foes to stay clear of. Who are they? Does Captain Fane have notable enemies in the area?"

"I don't know enough 'bout the ins and outs of Port Peril to tell ye about particular enemies, though I doubt Fane is short on 'em," Benarry says to Brynn, her tone very direct. "Just stay on yer toes, like good Pathfinders, and get it signed."

Just when it seems she's got nothing further to say, she adds, "And don't lose it, eh?"

"I shall guard it well! Put it in my back. No one will get it HAHAHAHA!"

An older man climbs haltingly out of the hold, then pauses to stare around at the assembled group. His lips work soundlessly for a moment, a look of confusion clouding his visage. "Eh?" he begins, his voice whistling a bit through broken teeth. "Is this the meetin' for the... er..." he trails off, reaching up to scratch his white chin-stubble as he wanders toward the group.

That crewman said the meeting would be held "before we dock". Rude, to have it early and not tell everyone.

His clothes are ragged and torn, patched here and there with mismatched cloth; one might say they've obviously seen better days, but it's entirely possible that they haven't.

Having made his way across the deck, the wiry fellow sits heavily down on a spool of rope and watches the group, making no move to speak further.

"It's Filbert, yes?! Pleasure to meet you. You look like you've seen the fun end of a brawl before. I think this is going to be awesome!"

"Filbert. Yes, yes, that's my name..." mutters the man, fumbling in one pocket and producing a small piece of parchment, which he proceeds to study silently. A few seconds later, he looks up. "What's so special about the front end of a draw?"

I have a funny reply in mind, but want to do it in Golarian-speak. Where is Filbert from? Or rather, is there any kind of an accent?

He's got a bit of an accent, but it's more of the "I haven't talked to any other humans in a long time" kind of accent than the recognizable accent of any particular locale. I suspect he's from Somewhere-Pretty-Remote, Varisia.

Sounded funnier in my head. Then I typed it. Will dave it for a better window. "What? Um..... I know you sound like you're southern, but ....Wait. Is it because your teeth knocked out? No matter. You've got the ink smell to ya, so more like a spell. HAHAHAHAHAHA" No one gets whatever punchline made Rax laugh.

"Still, good to have you. Now, let's get to the pub."

As Benarry tries to puzzle out Rax’s meaning, her attention is distracted by Filbert’s appearance on deck. ”I thought there was another one of ye,” she remarks, ”but I figured you’d fallen overboard or somethin’.” Studying the man’s ragged clothes, broken teeth, and broken demeanor, she adds quietly, ”Might have been better if ye had…what are they doin’ these days for an agent’s confirmation?”

A shout from the bow shifts her focus completely, and she calls out authoritatively, ”Pathfinders! Look alive, the sandbar’s just ahead! The Payoff draws too deep for us to make landfall, so ye’ll be swimmin’ to the sandbar, but not to worry, the water’s nice and calm in its lee. We’ll come about and luff up, give you moment to drop over the side into the shallows!”

As promised by the venture-captain, the swim is easy, more of a walk through chest-deep water, and the sandbar is even less noteworthy than it seemed from the ship, just a wide, flat swath of sand barely protruding from the sea – and likely to protrude less all the time with the rising tide. As the Pathfinders begin to wonder if they’ll be picked up before the sandbar vanishes under the water, Brynn and Rax notice a wooden crate sticking out of the sand. It’s not hard to pull it free of the sand, but the box seems to be swollen shut from a long time in the water.

Athletics checks if you’d like to try to open it.

Filbert blinks a few times at Rax's words, then at Benarry's. His expression is blank, as though he's not really following. Finally he smiles, showing a few crooked teeth.

As the group walks through the water toward the sandbar, Filbert hums quietly to himself, looking all around as though admiring the view. "Well now!" he exclaims, upon reaching the sand bar.

With Sprig being uncomfortable with the salt water, Brynn is forced to wade through the water with a leshy on her shoulders. The druid otherwise navigates the water with ease.

At the sight of the crate, she becomes curious. "Might as well see what's inside."
Athletics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13

"I've read about this. Pirates hide rum in these!" Rax, overconfident in his might pulls at the lid.

Athletics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11. when he fails he gives an embarrassed look that quickly changes to an intense one. "Lemme try again."

He drops down into a low stance. The corded mass of muscles in his shoulders show deep striation from the effort.

Athletics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27 "HAHAHA!"

The only thing that makes Hampton more unhappy than cold is being wet.

Naturally, this mission requires the latter. With a sigh, he plunges into the water and moves as fast as he can toward the sand bar, where he stands atop the disappearing land, dripping and miserable. He lets the other party members mess with the crate.

Brynn isn’t able to get the proper leverage to force the crate open, and hands it to Rax. Rax can’t get the proper leverage either, but he’s not quite clever enough to realize that, so he forces it open anyway! Inside is a bottle of amber liquid, clearly some sort of alcohol, stamped with a stylized dragon turtle. There’s one other small flask that’s still got something in it and several dirty, cracked bottles that are all empty.

The small flask contains a lesser bravo’s brew.

Pleased with what they’ve found, the party finds they have little else to but wait as the tide creeps higher, eventually leaving them standing in a few inches of water in the middle of the ocean. About an hour later, a small boat appears, sailed by an elderly dwarf woman. She introduces herself as Hlar and beckons everyone to climb aboard, shifting around sacks of shellfish and crab traps to make room in the cramped vessel. Over the next few hours, Hlar sails her boat in a meandering path to shore along the submerged rock formations, every now and then jumping overboard and freediving for several minutes before reemerging with an oyster, sea urchin, or squid.

The wind dies down along the way, and Hlar unships a pair of oars. She points at Rax, then at a seat by her side and says gruffly, ”Lend a hand there, you. Benarry made me come out of my way to get youse, least you can do is help get us to shore.”

Having some skill in herbalism, Brynn sniffs the contents of the small flask and laughs. "Of course I smell alcohol. Rax, this is right up your alley. Drink it down if you ever feel the need for a little extra bravery."

At the bottle of amber liquid she can only shrug. "I'm guessing that's rum of some sort."

After they're picked up by Hlar, Brynn remains quiet. She's willing to help, but lets Rax do his thing to help out.

Mmm. Rum.

Hampton is willing to row if needed, but Rax appears eager to stretch his sinews, so the Osirion opts to let him.

"Hohoho! It's not rum, but it's a find! We all look tough in our own way. Nary a weak-willed on here. If you want it, take it!"

---

"Tis a pleasure to meet you Hlar! If you need oars, I've got the back and the grip to match! Lemme see here."

What his voice lacks in power, it makes up for in force:

Naow whin Oi wuz a little boy an’ so me mother told me,
That if Oi didn’t kiss the gals me lips would all grow mouldy.
‘Way haul away, we’ll haul away yo!

An’ Oi sailed the seas for many a year not knowin’ what Oi wuz missin’,
Then Oi sets me sails afore the gales an’ started in a-kissin’.
‘Way haul away, we’ll haul away yo!

Oi got meself an Taldan gal an’ her name wuz Flannigan,
She stole me boots, she stole me clothes, she pinched me plate an’ pannikin.
‘Way haul away, we’ll haul away yo!

Oi courted then a Galtan gal, she took things free an’ aisy,
But naow Oi’ve got An'doran gal an’ sure she is a daisy.
‘Way haul away, we’ll haul away yo!

Oh, The Galtan paypul were so bright, afore the revolution,
But the people started cuttin' heads an' spoiled their con-sti-tu-tion.
‘Way haul away, we’ll haul away yo!

Oh, once Oi wuz in Karlsgard a-diggin’ turf an’ taties,
But naow Oi’m on Cap'Hlar's ship an’ a-haulin’ on the braces.
‘Way haul away, we’ll haul away yo!

Saint Senex wuz a gintleman, an’ he come of daycent paypul,
He built a church in K'Targo town an’ on it set a staypul.
‘Way haul away, we’ll haul away yo!

Yiz call yerself a second mate an’ cannot tie a bowline,
Ye cannot even stand up straight when the packet she’s a-rollin’.
‘Way haul away, we’ll haul away yo!

Since nobody has Alcohol Lore, I’ll keep us moving.

Propelled by Rax’s singing, Hlar’s boat makes good time and arrives in Port Peril around sunset, and even the gruff dwarf seems to appreciate how much easier it is to row with a rousing song. As the little craft drifts into Crescent Harbor, sailors disembarking for shore leave remain clearly visible, and others can be heard singing rowdily as they work, in the brief pauses in Rax’s boisterous tunes. Sailors on the docks begin to join in as the party rows past them, and soon much of the harbor is singing in rough unison with Rax! The party has not made an inconspicuous entrance, but they certainly seem to fit in in Port Peril.

Hlar soon lands at a smaller dock to unload her catch and gestures at Fane’s ship at one of the docks—the Risen Albatross. The diver notes that Stella Fane has a well-known penchant for riotous nights on the town once she’s returned to port, but Hlar confesses that she doesn’t know “where the kids go these days.” She adds that the harbormaster, Tsojmin Kreidoros, would probably have a better idea of where he saw Fane head after her ship docked and unloaded. Thankfully, the bald bureaucrat is close by, checking off tasks written in a ledger, and Hlar points him out.

As the Pathfinders approach, Kreidoros looks up and grunts, ”Noisy lot, aren’t ye? What ye need from me?”

Brynn chuckles. "Yeah sorry about that, Harbormaster. I promise to do what I can to keep our bard quiet," she says with no malice at Rax. "We're looking to meet up with Stella Fane. You wouldn't happen to know which stomping ground she's at right now?"

"Course I know where she be," he responds, going from gruff to downright testy, "It's my harbor, innit? So yes, I know where she be. What I don't know is why I should tell you." As he speaks, he rubs his fingers together in what he must think is a subtle hint.

He'd clearly like some sort of bribe, or perhaps a bit o' skilled convincing, if ya take my meanin'.

(Sorry, getting pirate-y up in here.)

Which is, of course, why we asked you, Hampton interjects, because no one else knows the ins and outs of Port Peril like you would. Everyone knows that.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 Okay, that was unexpected.

Rax looks around for the bard. Then his eyes go wide as Hampton's words come out like some kind of mellifluous magic.

Filbert hums along, terribly off-key but clearly enjoying himself. When the boat docks he climbs out and stands looking around, seeming a bit overawed by the size of the place. After a few moments he can be heard muttering beneath his breath, "'sa city, Filbert. They said it was. 'course it's gonna be big."

When the others head for the harbormaster, the older man clumps along, chewing on his cheeks and muttering all the while.

Kreidoros wiggles his shoulders a bit as Hampton heaps praise on him, almost looking like a cat savoring being petted. With a much warmer tone in his voice, he replies, ”Aye, ye got that right. Yer a smart fella, I can tell. Anyway, Fane’ll be at the Last Catch, out there past the point.” He gestures along the waterfront to an islet at the far end of Crescent Harbor, and describes the place like a tour guide, ”It’s a homey little tavern, most folk there are local fishers, sailors, divers, and others who spend their days on the sea and are looking for a stop on the way in to shore.”

Turning to look down the harbor, the Pathfinders can see that one of the docks leads out to a small islet. Walking down the dock, they find themselves at an open-air tavern with a large open space facing the sea. Several fishing boats have docked directly at the restaurant, unloading both ingredients and customers. Many of the patrons appear to be amphibious or otherwise from aquatic ancestries, and a few enjoy their drinks while bobbing up and down in the water off the pier. In a corner, Stella Fane polishes off an absolutely massive plate of what looks to be fried octopus.

As the party enters the Last Catch, Stella spots them and calls out, “Ah, you’re just in time! Like little baby cleaner fish, not knowing that the shark might decide it wants a meal more than sparkling teeth. Let’s see what we’re dealing with. But first, a toast!” With everyone seated around her table, Stella grabs a passing server and begins to order a round of drinks, saying, ”Drinks for the table, you know what to bring – a Pitch Perfect for each of us!”

She then turns to face her new guests with a dare in her eyes.

You all can drink what she has ordered, ask for something non-alcoholic, or come up with another plan.

Brynn spares a look at Rax, certain that the big man will rise to the occasion. She shrugs, figuring it's best to do what the locals do. "If it's anything like Rax over here, it's anything but pitch perfect. But sure, I'll have one."

Sprig does his best to stay hidden and untrod upon, practically clinging to the half-elf.

Filbert hrmphs softly as the group approaches the public house, but sits down with the others and grasps his grimy hat in one hand as he bobs his head up and down in what appears to be intended as a greeting to Stella Fane.

He sniffs the drinks as they're delivered, muttering arcane words under his breath before taking a swig.

Of course, Hampton says, hoping Pitch Perfect is a brand name for rum. He will partake as soon as it is in front of him.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA.... Oh wait. The bard.... was ME‽ HAHAHAHA Oh that's good." Rax partakes heartily. "Is this a business meeting?"

Awesome, everyone went for it!

Fane raises her glass and toasts, "To calmer seas!" She then slugs down her drink and smacks her lips in satisfaction. The Pathfinders follow her example, and the drink turns out to be powerful and pungent, with an aftertaste not unlike very old tar. Perhaps the 'pitch' in its name has nothing to do with music at all?

A round of Fortitude saves, please!

Fort save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
The people of her tribe have been known to drink stranger things. Brynn does her best to not make a face.

FORT: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25 "Brrrrrp!"

Fort save: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

Drink aside, the buzz in Hampton's ear is certainly hummin'.

Fortitude: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21

Filbert tilts his head back and pours the tar-like substance down his gullet, swallowing once and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand afterward.

The Pathfinders all make a strong showing of drinking down the bitter brew, but Vercingeterax knocks it back like it’s weak tea! Fane is suitably impressed, slapping Rax on the back and exclaiming, ”I might have to ask you to join my crew some day, laughing one! You drink, sing and laugh and like a true pirate! But for now, let’s have some fun while we talk a little business!”

She stands from the table, and moves to a row of marked-off lanes, each leading to a dart board on the wall. She takes her place at the toe line and throws a round of darts with surprising accuracy, then says, ”Beat that and we’ll see about the business you’re here on!”

To play this game, PCs can attempt ranged attack rolls using their best proficiency with a weapon in the dart or knife group, or using a spell attack roll with a spell such as telekinetic projectile that could propel the darts. The game is played in three rounds, and a different PC must attempt the check for each round.

Also, since you all succeeded at the Fort save, you all get the following benefit (which I’ve also included on one of the slides for reference): Once during the adventure, a PC who succeeds at the check to drink with Fane (regardless of what drink they toasted with) can use a reaction when they are targeted by an attack roll from an enemy they can see. If they do so, they stumble just as the attack is made, gaining a +2 status bonus to their AC against the attack.

"Not sure the pirate life is for me, but pridcting the future is a game for charlatans and mages!"

Rax looks suspiciously at the small dart. "Can we not switch to axes" The dart in his hand looks tiny. His tongue sticks out comically.

Dart: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 "AHAHAHAAA Good thing that was not a weapon! I'd have killed a man the next town over!"

Axes...hammers...bows...

ranged attack: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23

But this will do, Hampton says.

Brynn takes a dart, her expression uncertain. She holds it up, attempting to mimic Hampton's pose. "Well, here goes nothing."
Strike w/Dart: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

Due to GM coercion, using a hero point to reroll.
Strike w/Dart: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19