GM MattMorris Doom of Cassomir (Inactive)

Game Master ChesterCopperpot

"Who sent you? I'm busy!" He goes back to his sweeping, but he is keeping an eye on you, obviously interested.

Feel free to attempt to make an impression on him. :)

Ink looks a bit forlorn at the rebuff, but puts on her best smile nonetheless. "We're investigators with the Pathfinder Society, sir. Trying to discover the culprit of these attacks and put a stop to them." The gnome idly twirls her parasol. "Is there something we could do for you, perhaps, or help you with? Pathfinders love nothing more than giving back to the community."

Diplomacy to Make an Impression: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

EDIT: I see the Pathfinders' reputation precedes us.

"You are sweeping," Pyrexius pronounces scornfully. "This is nothing you should be busy with, especially if you are injured. Surely you have time to talk to us so we can deal with whatever monster did this to you!"

Diplomacy (trained): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

The man warms up to the golden kobold a bit. "Oh, this? I got a bit more than I bargained for, here. Came to Cassomir recently, hearing tales of the plentiful opportunities for shipwrights. I found work quickly enough at one of Cassomir’s dry docks, but I had spent all of my funds on the journey to Taldor. I plan on renting in Admiral’s Fen for a time while I save money to move into a nicer part of town."

The man leans his broom against the house and continues. "I was walking home from a long day of work when I was attacked. I was totally caught by surprise and would have died if Tamara hadn't found me immediately. No idea who it was. They didn't even try to rob me."

"The attackers were in nondescript clothes and had their faces covered. The only unusual thing about it was one of them called out 'I will join you soon, Aroden!’ Pretty strange, if you ask me. I'm hoping to get back to work. The sooner I mov eout of Admiral's Fen, the better."

Pyrexius scratches his head. Aroden's dead, so why would someone who wants to join him attack someone else -- unless they wanted to be killed and go out in battle. He could, perhaps, understand that. If these attackers tried to take his gold, they would certainly join Aroden quickly!

"Where was the attack? Near Tamara's inn?" the kobold asks.

"No, it was on my way home from the docks. Tamara just happened to be walking by, thank the gods. I doubt there is any evidence, but it was close to where that building burned down the other day--the King's Closet?"

Doryg looks intrigued. "Aroden? Not often you find folk still devoted to him. I don't suppose you know if the King's Closet had any links to such a sect, adoring or otherwise."

"If he's amenable, maybe we could tail him as leaves work next. See if lightning strikes twice, catch these attackers in the act," he mutters, just loud enough for any of his close-by companions to hear.

"Sorry, I am new to the area. I noticed only because the place was burned down." The man gives a shrug, but winces a bit when he raises his injured arm.

"We should search the King's Closet and surrounds next," Mirza suggests, turning away from his post watching the streets and moving closer to the other Pathfinders.

”Clearest lead we’ve got. Thank you for your assistance, sir.” Doryg bows his head and tugs a shock of hair respectfully. He then turns smartly on one boot heel, taps his cane against the street, then starts striding off. ”Let’s have at it! Time to demonstrate the second part of our title!”

You make your way across the district without incident and find yourselves at the burnt-out ruins of the King's Closet.

It appears that the foundations of the shop were strong. You can still see the outline of the building on the corner of a side street. All that are left now, though, are ashes and blackened boards.

Perception, Architecture Lore, or other appropriate Lore check to investigate.

Doryg: Something is definitely odd here.

Doryg paces around the wreckage, sniffing burned bits, knocking on charred beams, and sifting through the ashes with the tip of his cane. ”Hrmm. Now look here, see this bit? Very strange, wouldn’t expect this in a normal fire.”

Gonna Clue In an ally, giving them a +1 circumstance bonus to their check here!

I forgot about Pursue a Lead! It takes 1 minute, I can do it every 10 minutes, and I can Pursue two Leads at a time. Would it be fair to say from talking to mustache man and from investigating the building I’m now pursuing two leads: the attackers’ identity, and who burned down the King’s Closet.

Yes, I think that is totally fair. Seems specific enough to me--solving an arson seems like it could be a rulebook example. This is an everyone rolls and I take the best check, btw.

Pyrexius looks around, wondering if there's anything of value that could be salvaged from the wreckage, though it doesn't seem like it.

Mirza searches the ruins and the nearby area, focusing on anything that might indicate the presence of gangs or other organized unlawfuls.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 5 + 1 = 16

Underworld Lore (if useful): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

Fire and ash aren't Ink's specialty, but she does her best to poke around, taking her cues from the others and looking for signs as to the fire's start.

Perception to Search: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

As you sift through burned clothes and charred racks, you uncover a silver religious symbol of Groetus among the ashes. The religious symbol
is unusual, as it depicts Groetus gripping the eye of Aroden in his teeth.

"How unusual..." Ink murmurs, peering at the symbol.

Ink does not, in fact, have Religion; only Undead Lore.

Not very familiar with either god, Pyrexius shrugs, looking to see if Mirza or Doryg has anything to say. This seems more like something they might know about.

Still, he can't help but realize this is the second time Aroden's name has come up.

"Didn't Tamara say that doomcrier spends his time in front of Aroden's old temple? Clearly he must know more!" the kobold asserts. "I think he will tell us what he knows ... or else!"

"Once we finish searching here, that should be our next stop," Mirza agrees. He looks at the symbol carefully, turning it over in his hands and considering the meaning of combining the two symbols.

Religion: 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 5 + 1 = 12

"How unusual..." Ink murmurs to herself, before turning to address the group. "I suspect this is not a true divine symbol at all, but rather a tool of occultic significance... rather like my own poetry, though even more gloomy." Oddly, this seems to brighten the gnome's demeanor.

"I cannot say yet what it might mean, but I will certainly stay alert for any further matters of occult significance." Ink nods at Pyrexius. "Our auric accomplice is correct; the doomsayer may be the key to our next step. Let us seek him out."

”Well hello there, my new, strange, and very unexpected friend.” Doryg holds the item up between thumb and forefinger. ”Groetus devouring Aroden, that’s not a bit of theology I’ve encountered before. Sounds like Groetus is jumping the queue!”

Ink seems to have the most insight on the strange holy symbol.

Having investigated the burnt-out shell of the building, you decide to pursue your lead about the suspicious preacher. You head to the area he is reported to haunt, and find yourself witnessing a bit of a spectacle at one of the crossroads of Admiral's Fen.

A human man who matches the description of Dalimus is standing in front of a wagon full of ripe melons. Set up a few feet from the cart are a line of long, sharp poles. For his part, Delimus screams emphatically as he takes a large melon from the cart and hoists it over his head: "The time of the Falling Moon is at hand! Praise be to Groetus! Praise thjhe Father of the Apocalypse! Praise his prophet Ahksiva, ho sees that the End is come!"

With frantic energy, and a spray of ripe fruit, he impales the melon upon one of the spikes, intoning, "The time is at hand!"

A crowd of passersby have stopped to watch the performance. Several in the front row are taken by surprise by the sudden spray of melon.

You can try to get information out of Delimus using Religion, Deception, or any appropriate Lore skill.

Deception, you say.

Ink does her best to avoid melon guts as she wends her way through the crowd. As she approaches the preacher—carefully timing her approach to avoid the mess—Ink puts on her most morose, gloomy look.

"Pardon me, Mister Preacher. Might I have a word?" Assuming the wild preacher pays her any heed, Ink continues, her voice a monotonous drone of hopelessness. "Rumor reached me that there was a disciple of the End Times here. Dark have been my dreams of late, and the Skull-Faced Moon has featured prominently therein. I come to you seeking guidance, and wisdom. I wish to join you in welcoming the end. How best is the moon's will accomplished? Pray tell me."

Sorry, been a heck of a week. Will contribute more.

Izkazk pierces a shard of melon with their trident and takes a bite, ignoring the muck from the ground that has covered the piece. They let Ink approach the doomsayer, content to watch and scan the crowd for signs of trouble.

Dalimus reassures Ink, “Groetus’s end awaits us all, but only after it come to pass can this world be reborn into something more perfect. Those who help bring about this new world will be rewarded by the God of the End Times in the next one to come.”

He continues, encouraged by your attention, "I myself was chosen by Groetus's prophet, Ahksiva, to do his grim work in this city. The prophet descended upon the town several months ago to give hope to the hopeless."

The preacher lowers his voice and confides in Ink, "She appears only to those who will listen and is impossible to reach—but Reast Mycer, a member of the church of Aroden, often acts in her stead."

Pyrexius says, "You are very convincing, oh almost prophet. I want to help. Can I do grim work too?"

Sadly, Pyrexius is not at all convincing and his scorn for Dalimus' words and waste of melons is written all over his face.

Deception (untrained): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Later, I assume:
"Why would a follower of Aroden serve a prophet of Groetus? That doesn't make any sense. It would be like a dragon following a gnome," he says.

Izkazk pulls the dirty melon chunk free from their trident tines with a taloned foot, then motions quietly to any of their companions not engaged is speaking with the doomsayer. They then slip through the amassed crowd to the robed figure.

"Do you have something you needed to tell the Ankle Biter?"

Mirza keeps an eye on Dalimus, looking out sudden moves that might put Ink in danger; he leaves the doomsayer in her hands otherwise.

The robed figure nods to Izkazk. "This preacher has glimpsed too much of Groetus' truth. If you wish to serve the harbinger, read this."

He hands you a pamphlet.
Pamphlet
Are you alone? Do you feel left behind?
Cassomir seems to be changing faster than ever.
What can you do when your nation has forgotten you?
In the end, all of us will find new beginnings
Next sundown, present this pamphlet at Guiding Light
Come hear the glorious message of Prophet Ahksiva.

Doryg hangs back next to the tallest Pathfinder, his curious eyes flitting over the crowd and the sorts of people who find such ramblings of interest.

"You know, Mirza, there's some small number of Groetan gnomes. The Bleaching and all that, accept the inevitability of dissolution, etcetera etcetera. I'm not unsympathetic, but it seems a shame."

Izkazk nods to the robed figure and turns away quickly, scurrying back to the other Pathfinders. They nudge Doryg gently and place the pamphlet in his hand.

"One of the tall crazies gave me this. I think it's the best lead yet!"

Society to may know where the Guiding Light is: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

Izkazk, you remember passing what looked like an old Arodanite temple on your travels in the district.

Ink peers up at the strange preacher, listening with every appearance of rapt attention. When Dalimus seems to have said his piece, the gnome nods, letting a note of zeal creep into her voice. "Then I shall seek him who serves the Perished One. Thank you for your guidance, sanctified one." Ink bows respectfully. "Let us welcome the end together."

Ink walks away, seeming lost in thought. As she approaches the other Pathfinder, she calls out quietly, as if to strangers, "I am in need of directions. Do any of you fellows know where a wandering poet might find a temple dedicated to one who is dead?" Giving the appearance of stepping closer to listen to their guidance, Ink murmurs, sotto voce, "This preacher gives me the wraith-shivers. But he also gives useful information. I know who to speak to at Aroden's temple."

"And I know where to find them! There is an old temple to Aroden called the Guiding Light. The crazy paper said to be there next sundown." The kobold beams and rocks on the tips of their talons, obviously proud of themselves for bringing forward a piece of the mystery.

You have some leads in hand. Where to next?

"A time and a place," Mirza remarks, considering. "We could check out the temple ahead of time, get an idea of what to expect there. Spending some time looking into the swamp might not be a wasted effort, either."

A cursory inquiry reveals that your recollection of the temple's location is correct. Townsfolk also tell you that, since Aroden’s death and Cassomir’s economic slump, Guiding Light was sold off, becoming a tavern for a time before it was ultimately shuttered, so that the remaining priests could focus their efforts on maintaining a single structure.
The building stands taller than those around it. The outer walls are made of a polished white granite and trimmed with gold. It is now a filthy ruin, a skeleton of its former grandeur.

The old Guiding Light temple is in a mostly abandoned corner of Admiral’s Fen, near Blackwood Swamp. The area is thick with mud, the roads were swallowed up long ago by the invading swamp. The poorest and most destitute Cassomiri citizens squat in these teetering buildings.

How would you like to go about investigating the area?

Pyrexius sniffs disdainfully at the squalor. "Why do they stay here?" he says, mostly to themselves. "They should rise up and demand better quarters from the city.

"But," he says more directly to the others, "maybe they've seen something, or know something. We should talk to them and see what they can tell us."

Pyrexius is typically direct, so he's all for going straight to the area residents to see what we can learn.

Pyrexius, you can make a Society or Deception check to ask around. (As can anyone else who wants to use this tactic.)

Ink is certainly more confident about talking to locals than she is about plunging into the swamp. The gnome shifts her cover story a little; instead of a grim dreamer beset by apocalyptic visions, she presents herself as a gloomy, morbid poet (barely a deception, one supposes) seeking inspiration for her craft in sites of death and loss on a deific scale.

Deception to Gather Information: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

Deception (untrained): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

Pyrexius, seeing Ink's results with her less direct method, decides to adopt the same tactics instead of the more forward tactics he usually favors. He has learned that this particular mud is of great interest to one of his clutchmates, who uses it in his work, he explains, and is curious about acquiring as much as possible. Of course, it may mean spending some money, he admits, but he's curious if there's anything that might cause problems.

Ink learns that Reast Mycer was formerly a cleric of Aroden. Even in the clergy’s shrunken numbers, he never stood out. He abandoned the faith after Ahksiva challenged its leaders to religious debate. Reast is now devoted to Groetus and manages the day-to-day problems of the growing faith.

Pyrexius, you learn that when the prophet Ahksiva walks through Admiral’s Fen, no mud or dirt stains her robes. She is often described as walking out of Blackwood Swamp and into Admiral’s Fen.

You can attempt other strategies to investigate. You still have time before the meeting is to start.

I'm assuming we all have time to do more, not just those who haven't done anything yet...

Pyrexius heads toward the temple, wondering if a quick investigation before the meeting might pay off.

Stealth (trained): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
Perception (expert): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

Yes, you have time to try anything reasonable. Other people can try things too!

Izkazk marks Ahksiva as their hunted prey and prowls the edge of the Fen where the swamp begins. They keep an eye on the muck, trying to find traces of a trail.

Survival (Trained): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Seeing Pyrexius head for the temple, and preferring a gloomy temple to the mud of the swamp, Ink follows his lead and decides to go a-prowling. She's especially curious to see what might be afoot within the temple...

Stealth to Hide and Sneak and stuff: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23 (+2 to Seek undetected creatures within the range of her scent)

...does the dice roller know Ink's single, or what?

Izkazk makes little headway in the swamp.

Ink keenly observes that several people come in and out of Guiding Light
throughout the day. Most leave and return hours later carrying weapons or food. She can surmise somewhere between four to seven people have taken to living within the temple.

She also notices that some members of the cult greet each other by cupping their hands together and bowing. She sees several of them doing it when they present themselves at the door of the bulding.