|
It's been an easy few days, relaxing after your last mission in the alehouses or parks of Absalom. Even those just finishing their training can lounge around the lawns of the Pathfinder Lodge. But like all good things, they come to an end, under the sun of a summer's morning with birds chirping and serenading their partners. As your eyes close on the idyllic scene before you, you get a tap on your shoulder and you are given a note by a young messenger boy, who you recognise from the Lodge. You shrug as you realise, you are being called into action.
You read:
Greetings fellow seekers of knowledge!
The Society has been presented with a unique opportunity and I think you’re just the ones to help out. As you have likely heard, Absalom has recently become the home of a group of goblin refugees displaced by the Whispering Tyrant’s armies. They have settled in the Puddles, quite content to live in some of the abandoned buildings there. We’ve also learned from Ziraya al-Shurati, a Muckrucker in the Puddles, that the goblins have been digging around in the basement of the old playhouse that belonged to the Greater Absalom Performing Arts Guild. They’ve claimed this building as their own. In the process, they stumbled across some manner of beast they could not defeat but instead managed to seal away. With the local guards, the Muckruckers, unwilling to help, we have a perfect opportunity to step in and learn something new about the history of Absalom.
Several of our more experienced goblin Pathfinders have been working hard to build inroads into the goblin community, and this has led to an offer by “king” Zusgut to hear our plea. Your job is to meet Zusgut, explain that we wish his permission to explore beneath his playhouse, and then perform an initial exploration and assessment. You’ll likely not have much time for exploration given the tides probably flood the chambers below each day, but do your best!
Sincerely,
Drandle Dreng
P.S. I almost forgot! Eando Kline of the Vigilant Seal is watching this mission closely. He’s worried about ancient evils being released into the world by Pathfinders and what that will do to the public’s impression of us. While I know such things can’t always be avoided, it would be best if you either destroyed anything dangerous that you find down there or if you must bring it back to the Lodge, be very discreet!
With a sigh, you make your way to the Puddles District, a place where half the district seems to be under water or worse, on to meet your fellow Pathfinders outside the Playhouse.
|
Kurnek sits up a little straighter as he reads Venture-Captain Dreng's post-script.
Eando Kline himself! Well, well, well. Never too soon to make a good first impression and so on.
The tall, stocky man drains the rest of his ale in one long gulp and stands, wiping a hand across his mouth to capture any errant foam. He catches the barmaid's eye, tosses a few coins onto the table, and strides out of the tavern.
Once outside, he steps into an alley and mutters a few words to call upon arcane forces. A pale blue glow shimmers at his feet for a moment before rising up his legs to his torso, then over his hands and arms, and finally over his head before fading into invisibility. He inspects the result, nods to himself, then pulls one of the vials from his bandolier, pulls the cork, and swallows the contents with somewhat less enjoyment than he did his ale. Basic preparations in place, he begins walking through the city until he reaches the abandoned - now reoccupied - theater in the Puddles.
I wonder what's waiting for us under the old playhouse? Maybe someone said the name of that play about that king of Brevoy and summoned something awful...
His greenish skin and long, pointed teeth reveal an obvious orcish ancestor or three in the recent past, although his easy smile suggests that he does not often display an orc's stereotypical temper.
He wears no armor, just clothing comfortable for travel; at first glance, there is little about his appearance to suggest his occupation. On further study, however, one might notice the bulging pouch hanging from his belt, the unusual number of pockets sewn onto his vest and trousers - each of which seems to be filled with various items of odd shapes - and a bandolier with vials occupying every loop. His clothing itself is a little worn, and is stained in several places in various hues.
Hmmm. Looks like I might be first; at least, I hope I didn't miss the rest of the group.
|
”...but not like any cows you’ve ever seen!”, the black-scaled kobold relates excitedly to a small, bored-looking crowd. He is naked, save for a leather loincloth. Tiny bat-like wings sprout from his shoulder blades.
”They were tall, and fluffy, and noble, and...what is it!?”, he snaps at the messenger. In the time it takes him to grab the note and turn back, the handful of listeners have drifted off. Growling under his breath, he reads the message, his eyes going wide. Scurrying to his room to grab his gear, he heads off toward the Playhouse.
When he arrives, he sees an orcish-looking fellow. ”Are you here for the mission?”, he asks.
|
|
Zoresk joins the rest of the group. He pulls the hood of his oily looking cloak, revealing a war hardened face. Even with a few days of beard growth can not hide a jagged scar running along his jaw. A price he paid for not keeping his head down during training.
"Ready to clear out some "ancient evil"" Zoresk asks his other companions, more out of jest than actual seriousness.
|
|
Wiping his hands with a towel, the wizard steps towards another patient as the courier reaches him. Grabbing the letter, Valdris folds it neatly and looks for a nurse to finish what checks he was supposed to do. Going to his room, and changing clothes to his traveling robes and strapping his healer's kit for easy reach on his bag.
Arriving just behind the tall cloaked figure, dressed in robes and a flat, wide brimmed hat, the wizard looked at the others and greeted them
"Greetings! I am Valdris Heartwell, pleasure to meet you all! Hopefully, we all can get along splendidly!"
As he finishes his sentence, the wizard casts mage armor on himself before looking around.
|
|
When he arrives, he sees an orcish-looking fellow. ”Are you here for the mission?”, he asks.
Kurnek stares down at the almost naked kobold in surprise. "Am I here for the mission? I suppose it depends on which mission you mean. If you mean..." He pauses as a hooded figure approaches them.
"Ready to clear out some "ancient evil"?"
Kurnek turns back to Dreadfang! and continues, "... that mission, then yes, I am. Kurnek Ruinmaker, at your service. I assume you are as well?"
The half-orc turns to introduce himself to Zoresk but is distracted again by Valdris's arrival. "Greetings indeed, and I hope so! I'm Kurnek, by the way. A pleasure to meet you both."
"So, you don't think it's anything serious, then?" he asks Zoresk. "Whatever King Zusgut's people have found down there?"
|
|
"Who knows. Whatever the goblin king got down there we can deal with. That's why I brought "Matilda" along" Zoresk says, pulling back his cloak and revealing a crossbow. "Name's Zoresk, from Mendev. I am a scout by profession. Mainly used when the crusaders do not feel like going out and doing it themselves."
|
|
" Names Talia. Pleasure to meet you all. I never thought that I'd be going to the sewers again. Though I can't say my last adventure was any better," she says laughing.
Responding to Kurnek she adds," Mom used to describe goblins as chaos magnets. Even if they try to avoid it something catastrophic usually happens. Made her life a living nightmare trying to keep them alive. I think that's why she quit the legion."
|
Marcus approaches but slows to listen to the introductions before stepping forward. "It appears as though I have arrived at the correct location for our assignment. A pleasure to meet each of you. I am Marcus Vultulus Fantailler, former lord of the Fantailler Family estate outside of Cassomir. A title and assignment, both of which I am happy to have shed."
He offers a firm handshake to each of his new compatriots. His attire is, at first glance, more that of a bureaucrat than an adventurer, but a further look shows reinforced leather straps and a shirt of chain mail partially concealed by a dark robe. His jet black hair is pulled back revealing faintly pointed ears.
Anyhow, you may call me Marcus, or just Marc if it pleases you... or really anything else you care to so long as it is not done in malice. I will confess that in my service to the Stavian's old Taldan empire, may it never rise again, my experiences with Goblins were less than diplomatic, however in each of my assignments with the Society since my formal admittance, I have found them to be the most strong willed, loyal companions one could ever hope to have at their side."[/b]
He smirks and adds, "Although magnets for chaos may not be the worst description either."
|
|
"I find goblins to be quite enjoyable to be around. Breaks up the monotony that is adventuring. To be honest, I enjoy being around them, though from my early years, before being an agent, I remember my brother's letter home. He found them fun, but quite self destructive, almost suicidal." Raising an eyebrow, Valdris looks at Talia. "I think my brother has mentioned something similar. He wasn't on that mission, but had a friend with a weasel that had to escort a group of them. Something about lots of fire and snow, both being detrimental and hilarious."
Shaking the offered hand of Marcus, the wizard eyes the man up and grins. "Pleasure to beet a highborn of Taylor. It seems that all walks of life come to the Society for one reason or another. Tell me, how fairs the homeland, as I haven't been able to visit Oppara for a few years. My studies and work have kept me quite busy."
|
|
The Crookedtoes goblins are led by Zusgut, who is obsessed with performance and acting. His tribe has taken over an old playhouse in the Puddles district that no one else wants because the Puddles are slowly sinking.
There are dark rumors surrounding this area of Absalom. Some claim it is a dumping ground for bodies of the murdered, or perhaps even a place where victims are taken before being killed. It was certainly known in the past as an area frequented by criminals.
The Crookedtoes goblins are led by Zusgut, who is obsessed with performance and acting. His tribe has taken over an old playhouse in the Puddles district that no one else wants because the Puddles are slowly sinking.
The Crookedtoes goblins are led by Zusgut, who is obsessed with performance and acting. His tribe has taken over an old playhouse in the Puddles district that no one else wants because the Puddles are slowly sinking.
The Crookedtoes goblins are led by Zusgut, who is obsessed with performance and acting. His tribe has taken over an old playhouse in the Puddles district that no one else wants because the Puddles are slowly sinking.
There are certainly ancient structures below what is now called the Puddles. In the past, such places have been troubled by corporeal undead such as ghouls, ghasts, skeletons, and zombies. Older residents of the area tell stories of screams that would occasionally seem
to emanate from somewhere deep beneath the streets.
The Crookedtoes goblins are led by Zusgut, who is obsessed with performance and acting. His tribe has taken over an old playhouse in the Puddles district that no one else wants because the Puddles are slowly sinking.
The Crookedtoes goblins are led by Zusgut, who is obsessed with performance and acting. His tribe has taken over an old playhouse in the Puddles district that no one else wants because the Puddles are slowly sinking.
The playhouse was the home of the Greater Absalom Performing Arts Guild for 50 years prior to the earthquake that shook the city 20 years ago. During its heyday, it boasted frequent, well‑attended performances and a particularly vibrant youth program.
|
|
Talia says," My mom is a hobgoblin pirate who used to take care of a group of goblins during the Ironfang War. Apparently, she grew fond of them and left with them. Made their way towards the shackles where they don't particularly care who you are if you can man a boat."
She sits down and almost looses herself in thought. She adds,"I used to get into so much trouble with the goblins. She always told me that whatever curse the goblins had was given to me."
|
|
As you gather around the Playhouse, you notice a preponderance of mice and other small vermin running in and out through small holes in half rotten boarding. The Playhouse looks in a dismal state, the paint peeling off, and having not been looked after for the past decade or more. As it lurches into the 'puddles', slowly sinking into the mud and sea, you see at least one entrance that looks to be in use, probably the 'Artists' entrance when it was a Playhouse. The main entrance having been boarded up long ago.
|
|
Kurnek grins. "Sounds like a fun childhood. I spent most of mine hearing things like, 'Put that down!', 'Don't push that button!', 'Ahhhh! Stop, you don't know what that does!' Took me a while to get the message, but eventually I learned a bit of caution."
When Kurnek remembers what he's heard about the Crookedtoes goblins and the Puddles, he quickly tells the other Pathfinders before they go inside.
"This King Zusgut seems like a real character. He's obsessed with performing and acting, so his clan took over this old playhouse. Not like anyone else wanted it, given that the whole area is sinking. I haven't spent much time here in the Puddles since I got to Absalom, but from what I've heard, it has a pretty unsavory reputation. Criminals frequent the district, or at least they did, and murderers would dump the bodies of their victims here - or even bring them here first and then kill them."
After a moment, he adds, "That seems like a lot of extra effort to me, hauling a a living person through the city without being noticed, just to kill them here. I mean, it would be easier to kill the person where you find them, then just stick the body in a box or something and load it onto a cart to move it around. But maybe I just don't think like a murderer - too much time in the library or the laboratory!" He laughs at his own naïveté.
Kurnek is ready to go into the playhouse when the rest of the group is.
|
|
"There's also been sighting of corporeal undead in this district over the years, with some nights, howling of sorts coming from under structures. I think we ought to be careful, and not split up while here," Valdris says with a shudder.
"From a medical point of view, if people were brought and then murdered here, perhaps a fresh corpse would be needed? It's also less conspicuous when someone isn't carrying a dead body through the city."
Valdris shakes his head at the notion of such thoughs and readies himself to enter the playhouse.
|
|
Marcus nods towards Kurnek. "I have heard similar rationale for the King Zusgut to acquire this territory... and I can't say I blame him. For fifty odd years the Greater Absalom Performing Arts Guild resided there... until the earthquake that started the aforementioned flooding and sinking. In fact it used to boast frequent well-attended performances. Ironically, it also had a particularly vibrant youth program... I would call this tribe particularly vibrant as well... heh... heh..."
At the mention of incorporeal undead he grimaces. "So... for ghosts... how do we intend to defend ourselves against such creatures?"
|
|
The Playhouse has proven resilient to the daily flooding. A roughly square‑shaped building that measures 120 feet on each side of the outside walls. The stone foundation is in rather good condition considering the earthquake 20 years ago, and the wooden walls are still solid, but as mentioned earlier the exterior’s paint is mostly chipped away, many windows are broken, and the wooden shingles rotten and failing, where mice scurry in the debris. A few creeping plants grow along the exterior, their tendrils digging into any rotten wood they find.
Inside you heard is a vestibule, a smaller theater‑in‑the‑round “black box” theater, several rooms that were once offices, storage, and dressing rooms, and a large auditorium‑style theater with a raised stage, orchestra pit, and balcony. The normal trappings of a theatre.
You enter by the artists entrance, once in the air in the building is damp and puddles of muddy, stagnant water are everywhere. A number of birds and insects (especially mosquitos) make their home in the dim light of the building, taking the place of the mice you saw outside. The goblins burn torches that produce a thick black smoke day and night, in the hope of alleviating the mosquito problem.
You follow a route into the full auditorium.
These flickering torches fail to fully illuminate this large auditorium within the mostly‑ruined playhouse. Hints of the former beauty and majesty of the building are marred by the smell of mildew and ever‑present water puddles. The northern end of the space is occupied by a raised stage, with a large chair that must have once been used as a throne in a theatrical production long ago.
Goblins move throughout the room, some gathered in small clusters roasting food over open fires, others sleeping in what remains of the auditorium’s chairs. On the crumbling balcony, a goblin choir rehearses, each member singing a different song, or perhaps the same song with different words, lyrics, and tempo. Goblin children chase each other about, their leashes dangling from their necks as they screech and shout. Occasionally a leash catches on a bit of furniture or rubble, bringing the wearer crashing to the ground while their companions laugh uproariously.
From atop the throne a voice rings out, cutting across the chaos, clear and annunciated, although obviously still a goblin’s. “Oho, what’s this! Another group looking to throw their hats into the ring, as it were? Probably the Pathfinders I was expecting.”
There is an angry yell from a group of humans wearing armor and bearing sheathed weapons dimly visible near the stage. The goblin turns and addresses the interruption from the grousing warriors. “Now, now. I never said anything about exclusive rights, did I? Hah!
“So, Pathfinders. I’m sure you’ve heard about our trouble with a creature in the basement. What is it your organization is willing to do for my kingdom, and why should I let you go instead of these fine folks?” he asks, gesturing to the warriors.
|
|
King Zusgut looks a little surprised when Dreadfang answered, taken aback he splutters a few words in goblin.
"What, I thought thought the Pathfinders were all brought up with manners to address people by their right title!"
Several of the King's entourage of goblins, look long and hard at Dreadfang.
|
|
Marcus shakes his head at his compatriots' frank nature and whispers to his friends. "A modicum of formality is in order when speaking with a tribal leader. Even so called chaos magnets."
With that he clears his throat and steps forward, bowing his head. "King Zusgut, leader of the goblin tribes, lord of the Playhouse, I am Marcus Vultulus Fantailler here on behalf of Drandle Dreng seeking to negotiate terms for passage into your lands in what shall hopefully be a mutually beneficial effort. With respect to your question of what we can provide that these others cannot..."
He pulls from his pack a dulcimer and strikes out a triumphant chord.
"...stage presence."
|
|
Valdris snorts slightly at Marcus' pun, then looks up at the goblin chief. Flipping back his cloak's hood to show his face, the wizard stretches out his arms and genuflects before looking at Zusgut on the eyes. Raising and projecting his voice, so that all could hear him in the auditorium, the wizard speaks.
"I do say goodly king, that we of the Pathfinder Society do have the resources, knowledge, and say reputation to be quite dazzling to say in the least. Those, amateurs, in that group yonder may be able to deal with your problem, but can they do it with, flair? No, no, I do not attempt to insult or tarnish the name of the other troupe, yet I question as to their ability to perform in your request."
With the words, and a slight brush of his hand on Marcus' dulcimer, Valdris causes the instrument to light up as he bows towards the goblin king.
|
|
Dreadfang’s confusion deepens at the goblins’ reaction to a simple question. However, as his companions makes their obeisances to the goblin king, adding their own dramatic twists, he nods in realization.
”Your Majesty”, he says with a bow, ”We are mighty heroes and travelers, wandering far and wide, defending the worthy from the foul! Just last month, I saved a herd of cows from a dire beast, but not like any cows you’ve ever seen! They were tall, and fluffy, and noble...”
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Kurnek grins as he sees where the other Pathfinders are taking the conversation. Why not?
He begins to sing. His voice is a rich, pleasant baritone, but he has no idea how to carry a tune.
"Let us in, king!
We're ready to play!
The part!
Let us in, king!
We're ready to slay!
The beast!
In your basement!"
The wizard trails off, embarrassed. “Uh, right. Also, um, we brought snacks." He opens up his backpack and pulls out a hunk of cheese from his stash of rations, offering it to the goblins.
|
|
King Zusgut claps his hands in glee and turns to his goblin subjects, "See, I knew the Pathfinder Society would send those who knew how to treat royalty." He shoots a glance at the 'competition', his eyes showing his irritation at their discourtesy. Turning to the Pathdfinder group, he points at the dulcimer, "I see you can play that amazing instrument. Yes, I want to hear more." As he speaks, his hands intimate that the singer should quieten down and dismissing the kobold as he starts to tell his stories. Indeed the king seems totally enthralled as the musical notes reach a crescendo, a flare of bright fire crossed the stage and the instrument burst into a blue ball of light.
It is then that another goblin dressed in more finery steps to the king and whispers into his ear. "Yes yes what a good idea." King Zusgut rises to his feet from the throne and in a regal and quite booming voice for a goblin pronounces "As you can see by the regalia on the stage, we have been enjoying the retelling of a tale of great courage of the Crooktoes tribe. Our current production is a retelling
of the Crookedtoes’ rescue of the Knights of Lastwall from the grasp of the Whispering Tyrant’s army. It is a play I have penned and when I know it is polished enough to be shown to all of Absalom, then we will take it to all the theatres. However I must choose who shall be first to face the challenges in the basement. To do that I will set a challenge, a contest between both teams, one that will bring enjoyment to all of us here." As he says that the goblins cheer and call out the name "King Zusgut."
The King continues, "You can read lines from my play.” The surrounding goblins cheer once more. He squints at the mercenaries. “Since you got here first, you can go first! Show starts in two minutes!” At this news, another cheer goes up from the Crookedtoes goblins and they begin to crowd toward the stage.
THE PLAYRise of the Goblin Heroes, a True and Accurate Account by Zusgut, King of the Goblins in Absalom
Act V, Scene 1Enter ZUSGUT, CRIMSI, GRENEK, SIATHORN, MITZI (a wolf, not a dog), PIZAZZ, and ULTHUN (a human).
ZUSGUT (from atop his throne): I see the great heroes have returned! But who is this with you? Speak, brave knight.
ULTHUN: Oh mighty chief of the goblins, whose wit and skill are unsurpassed, I am called Ulthun, Watcher-Lord of Lastwall. Alas, that land has been overrun by undead and is no more!
GRENEK (hops forward): Is true. Undead everywhere.
SIATHORN: But we helped them escape! The longshanks. Not the undead.
MITZI: Woof!
CRIMSI: I helped collapsed the tunnel behind us. It was great!
PIZAZZ (huffily): I found people who appreciate my singing. Here, let me show you. (clears throat)
GRENEK: Quiet! Chief’s speaking!
(PIZAZZ grumbles.)
ULTHUN (to ZUSGUT): Please, my lord, we beseech you and ask the help of your mighty tribe. We are but mere humans and lack the cleverness and skill needed to escape the clutches of the undead. Will you aid us?
ZUSGUT: Of course, of course! Crookedtoes, my people, harken to me! Now is the time foretold, the time when the longshanks would come before us in desperate need.
GRENEK: We help too! We know how to fight undead longshanks!
SIATHORN: Yes, Mitzi will tear them apart with wolfish fierceness!
MITZI: Bark!
PIZAZZ: And I will compose a war song to lift our hearts.
(ALL except PIZAZZ groan.)
CRIMSI: No, no, no. We need my catapult!
ZUSGUT: I think we need to hurry; no time for catapults or songs. Prepare for the journey south and into our destiny! Now, WE be heroes!
ALL GOBLINS (cheering together): We be heroes! We be heroes! We be heroes!
|
|
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Talia carefully reads through the script and when it's her time says," Woof "
Waiting for her next line she smiles a bit deciding to improvise a bit. "Bark bark woof.. ," she says hoping the chief is pleased with her addition.
At the end she shakes her butt like she is wagging her tail and yells,"Awooooo... Wooooo...Wooooo....."
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Dreadfang takes on the role he is naturally suited for.
”I think we need to hurry; no time for catapults or songs!”, he cries, waving his hands dismissively.
Pointing upward dramatically, he adds, ”Prepare for the journey south and into...”
He slowly sweeps his outstretched hand across an imaginary horizon. ”...our destiny!”
Clenching his fist, he shouts, ”Now, WE be heroes!”
|
|
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
Marcus grins. Having had the standard regiment of courses for being raised as a Taldane noble finds himself quite at home with the routine and hams it up as best as he can. Is normal sarcasm and grim demeanor is gone as he considers the roles available. He opts for the role of Ulthun, hoping that his longer lines will allow the others to cue off of him.
Marcus looks about for the reader of Zusgut's first line, hoping it will be one of the competition. He steps forward, blade in hand and places his other hand on his knee as though he is out of breath. He then kneels, partly towards the actor taking Zusgut's first line, and partly towards the audiance while placing his blade on the ground before him. "Oh mighty chief of the goblins, whose wit and skill are unsurpassed," He gives a dramatic pause, allowing Zusgut to change his expression.
To the audiance more than to Zusgut he continues, "I am called Ulthun, Watcher-Lord of Lastwall. Alas, that land has been overrun by undead-" He opens his hands wide in defeat, then turns directly to the audiance before adding slowly and deeply, "...and is... no... more!"
|
|
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Zoresk sneakily moves around the other "performers". He places the hand on his crossbow trigger and fires a bolt into the middle of the floor. After the others jump back, he moves forward.
"Sorry, Matilda was just so enthused with your performance, she got to excited and just fired..." He then moves down to pry the bolt out of the wooden stage floor. After a bit of fake grunting and pulling, the bolt comes free. "Again, sorry. You may continue"
|
|
Coming ontonthe stage, seemingly out of breath and worry on his face, Valdris speaks his line "But we helped them escape! The longshanks. Not the undead."
After listening to a few of the others, the "goblin" answers his King! "Yes, Mitzi will tear them apart with wolfish fierceness!"
At the end, with all the others cheering, he joins in as best he can! "We be heroes! We be heroes! We be heroes!"
|
|
As Zoresk pulls the misplaced bolt from the stage after successfully interrupting the first show. One of the other team stomps his boots across the stage towards Zoresk, with the glint of murder in his eyes he whispers "When we meet next, you will be the first to find my steel." The King waves his hands, "Leave him, had your performance been better, I'm sure it wouldn't have happened." Meanwhile the stage is assaulted by goblins throwing rotten fruit and moldy cheese at the other team as their performance ends. The sounds of jeering accompany the missiles of food stuffs.
Then the Pathfinders take to the stage, Marcus once again steals the show, the King squealing in glee at his performance. With Talia the wolfhound almost making him fall off his throne with laughter as she makes her doggy sounds, the performance seems to be going well, but Dreadfang's voice can't be heard over Talia's inspired laughter. Finally Valdris does his best to imitate the voice and actions of a might goblin warrior, but when the pangs of stage-fright suddenly well up inside him, his voice just croaks the vicious lines much to King Zusgut's displeasure.
It seems the contest is in the balance, as Zusgut calls "Well Velkik, it does seem you idea has some merit" The elderly holds her symbol of Sarenrae as she thinks, before she bows to Zusgut, "Be guided by your heart my King." showing her deference to the mighty goblin king. The rest of the tribe call out once more for King Zusgut.
Zusgut raises his hands for silence, and most of the goblins quiet down or wander off. “Well that was exciting,” he says. “But now it’s time for the tough decision.”
The king pauses dramatically, and from somewhere nearby a goblin beats a drum in a rhythm reminiscent of a heartbeat. “It’s a difficult choice,” Zusgut continues, drawing out the moment. “But I have to say that one performance…” he pauses .....
The drum continues to beat. “Rose above the other.” Another pause. “Today, the winner is…” He stops again, and now the
goblins are all paying close attention. “The Pathfinders!” A
cheer rises up at his words....
Once the cheering subsides, King Zusgut continues, "It is with my permission that the Pathfinders are given access to the cellars to seek glory and honour by removing the threat of the big green monster that lurks there." He smiles as he points towards the exit from the auditorium to the stairs leading into the basement. "I know these are creatures of courage, these Pathfinders, they will explore and return with the monster defeated, following the way there." He looks straight at you all, "If I or Velkik can answer any questions you have about the underground portion of my kingdom, now is the time to ask."
As you hear King Zusgut's pronouncement of the winner, you hear whisperings of discontent amongst the other mercenary team, as they skulk into the shadows of the playhouse, into a shadowy quiet corner.
|
|
King Zusgut smiles at the little kobold, "Well, there is of course the tide and the water flooding down there, but I mean you know that, you are Pathfinders. On a good day .... " he ponders and looks at Velkik. A rather scratchy female voice answers, "At this time I guess you have five to seven hours to search the chambers there, before the tide floods the basement."
The King beams, and repeats the answer in a dramatic flourish so all can hear, his hands sweeping in front of him. "Along with the green monster, the state of the dark chambers .....
and ........" his voice tails off as he thinks.
Then loudly starts up, "The unknown creatures of the darkness beneath the theatre .......
there they swim, crawl and walk the paths of actors gone before."
The last he says melodramatically, upping the prestige that will be given to the Pathfinders on their return. "Those are the dangers you face, the dangers you will overcome!"
|
|
Marcus bows to King Zusgut. "Your wisdom and resourcefulness will serve your tribe well."
Once at the entrance to the Playhouse of the Green Monster and Horrors Untold, Marcus draws a quick rune in the air, then draws his rapier. With a word in Aklo, the rapier begins to shine with a radiant light.
"I suppose now is as good a time as any to learn each others strengths and weaknesses. Well... truth be told several hours ago may have been better, but I firmly believe that knowing as much as possible before a moment of action is worth more than what a fistful of gold coins can purchase. To that end, I intend to do my best to uncover clues as to what we will be facing before we face it, however should we be lacking in the skills necessary to safely navigate treacherous regions, I would be happy to assist."
"I will confess that while my sources are varied, they do oft come from less reputable libraries... many of which publish apocryphal tales as solid truth. Nonetheless the shred of evidence to be gained can often save seconds where mere moments are in short supply. I shall warn however, that my skills with a blade are passable at best. I shall seek to assist those on the front-lines wherever possible, but will seek to rely more firmly on my grasp of... less... natural magicks."
|
|
”The blood of dragons flows through my veins!”, Dreadfang announces. ”I have powerful claws, a fearsome mien, and acid breath! I prowl among the shadows, unleashing my fury against my enemies when the time is right, until all shall bow before me, and I...!”
He looks around, clears his throat and collects himself. ”...and I can see in the dark”, he finishes more calmly.