(#1-11) "Flames of Rebellion" (Inactive)

Game Master rainzax

The champion eyes the glass of wine in front of him skeptically.

Blasted city folk wouldn't know a good brew if it bit them on their behinds. I'm thinking she wants us good and gone. Must be an embarrassment to her to have us around here. Still, time to show that dwarfs can be as silver tonged as the elves.

"Madam mayor, we don't want to cause any problems for you here. If you would like us gone, then please, just say so and we will hit the long road.
Though we thank you for the information about her family cemetery. We'll be sure to visit that on our way out of town."

diplomacy(untrained): 1d20 ⇒ 20

"Well, you can't stay here, but, I'm sure the Society will have accommodations arranged for you if needed" a soft deflection.

The Mayor segues the somewhat awkward bump in the conversation by answering yet more questions "Oh it's planting season, and yes, I had some renovations made - we had a good year last year - of course, being in the wine business, that'll be an investment that pays off in a decade or so" a pensive glare upward signifies she almost loses herself in conversation before recovering "If you visit Old Ven - don't call him that though - you might do to have significant time on your hands. He's a man living alone practically starved for company, and cunning enough that if he knows he has something you want - such an information of a peculiar sort - is likely to draw the conversation out longer than you will have most certainly planned"

Sipping her wine here, she points to indicate direction "Over yonder aways" towards the sun setting into the horizon casting it's orange-reddish glow into the darkening evening sky.

'Is Ven in the wine trade too?'

Aurelien tries to ignore the strange turn in the conversation. A stray hair tucks itself behind his ear, as he ignores the ancestors whispering 'There's more to her than meets the eye'.

“Ven Strickmund is one of Sauerton’s oldest living vintners! Some say he made a deal with Asmodeus himself to gain unnaturally long life - if you believe old village wives' tails." She smiles here, sipping the last of her wine, and setting the glass down on the table.

There is a pause. She fills it.

"If anyone in town can tell you anything about what the Pathfinders were doing on that land back when they still owned it, Ven will be the one.”

Something about the woman makes Ned's hair stand on the back of his neck. Then again, his walking stick often gives him the same impression, so maybe there's something faulty with his neck hairs. Still, he's not so daft as to recognize when someone's shooing him out the door. He gets that more often since... well, more often lately.

"Awright, we gitcha. Have yerself a nice night, y'hear?" Ned moves to leave, his wine glass untouched.

"Very nice to meet you, lovely shoes, how's the family, GTFO" XD

Emoubu nods. He's been deliberately quite to avoid antagonizing anyone.

He's kept his head down enough that maybe someone who isn't wanting to look very hard might mistake him for one of the other, more popular, small races.

The sun has set by the time the party is bidding themselves adieu, and they begin to make their way over to Ven Strickmund's property, following the directions of Thalia Andares...

What is everyone's Visibility and Light situation?

Khaul eyes up the impeding darkness grimly.

"I can see at night, at least close by." he says.

"Not sure about the rest of you."

Darkvision

Farewell Mayor Andares. I do hope we have the opportunity to meet again.

low-light vision

The light of the stars is usually enough for me, but I also have some torches to relieve the gloom.

Emoubu has Darkvision, but lights a torch unless the party objects.

"Marshal Emoubu says we are not sneaking, yet, so we should let people know we are coming so they are less scared."

Aurelien has low light vision.

'I do not think that we should sneak unless we see something untoward happening'

Ned whispers something into the head of his staff and it glows with an eerie orange light.

Casting light. Default exploration for Ned is Search. Might switch it to Investigate depending on the situation, but Search is fine for now.

Aaaand I just realized Ned is like, the only character where I didn't put his default exploration activity in his taglines. My bad >_<

EDIT: Fixed :)

Sauerton (Part Four)

1d100 ⇒ 9

A winery rests on the hilltop ahead, surrounded by fields with neatly ordered rows upon rows of grape vines and trellises. Penetrating the dark meekly, a distant candlelight is visible on your approach, details surrounding it's faint illumination vague to those of ordinary vision...

And Nedri, Searching, go ahead and roll!

...

...

The Party is Up!

Aurelien's default is to Investigate.

'Good evening sir. Our apologies for arriving so late but we were hoping you could help us'

He leaves the sentence hanging for anyone to add to it.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

"Can't see a durned thing out here," Ned grumbles, and promptly stubs his toe on a loose cobblestone. He sucks in a breath, then looses a whispered tirade of shocking profanity in Osiriani.

Duncan will Search

Good evening Duncan sweeps a bow.

I'm Duncan and these are my companions. We're looking into the history of the town, and heard you were the best person in the area to ask. We do apologize for the late hour. The mayor offered us a drink and we couldn't get away any sooner.

Khaul approaches in the dark. As he spies the figure on the porch he stops and waves.

"Good day" he adds to Ducan's greetings. "Or maybe good evening."

He nods to the swashbuckers words. "Assuming that you are the one known as Ven?"

"Late? Why, the night is young" a voice calls from the dark - from a set of vocal chords that have audible wear!

The party approaches - the man comes firmly into view - but the finer details of his house are lost on Nedri, whose eyes simply don't adjust to the dark. Bearded old timer, rocking on a chair by candlelight. He lifts it up and shines it your way!

"This here be the property of Ven Strickmund - Winemaker and Conversationaire - and that Ven Strickmund be this old sack of bones here" Indicating himself, he smiles gleefully, and it is here you can see that his teeth - of which he has all of them - are stained with the telltale red that marks his claims as most probably true - he turns the glass in his hand to stir it's contents, gulping down the last bit heartily (further corroborating the truth of what he says), hiccups, and turns to "Duncan is it? Why I once knew a Duncan. Used to run a three card monte in the town over, come home with a big ol' sack o' winnings. The look on his face when he poured it out at the end of the night. You see, Duncan had a way with..." while the party stands awkwardly around, Ven Strickmund tells you what feels like the entire story of this other Duncan's life, blubbering on for no less than 3d6 ⇒ (5, 6, 6) = 17 minutes in doing so "...and that was why we called 'im Duncan the Downright!" it seems the story comes to it's fantastic conclusion - perhaps the natural thing to do here is to sit on the porch? There are not any other chairs. In any case, barely a breath when he adds "Duncan the... so being that you are the second Duncan, what do I call you? Duncan the... Duncan the... well, while we sort this, would you mind filling up me glass?" and it is in this moment that three things become immediately apparent:

1) The carafe is still half full
2) It is just out the old man's reach
3) It would likely cost him a lot of effort to get out of his chair

He actually stops talking here, having made his request!

Khaul steps forward. "Khaul Irontoe. At ye service Mr Strickmund."

He lifts the carafe, sniffs it, and then fills the old mans glass to the very top. Putting the carafe back on the table he plonks himself down at the old mans feet.

"I hear you be knowing more than just Duncan the first in these here parts.."

'Yes, there is wisdom in listening to out elders'

Aurelien may be addressing Ven or someone else nearby.

Emoubu decides to remain just off the porch, tending his torch and generally being unobtrusive.

Duncan the Downright sounds like someone I should meet. I guess you can call me Duncan the Upright. It's right there in the family name, means the truth in old Chelaxian you see. Now we're digging into the past a bit here, old Pathfinder history and all that, and we would appreciate any help you can give us on that. But don't let me forget to tell you about the time I was sailing from Absalom to the River Kingdoms and lost ten years, but didn't age a day.

diplomacy +7

Duncan to Make an Impression upon Ven w/ Upright circumstance bonus (+2) vs DC 12: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 7 + 2 = 25 (Indifferent > Friendly > Helpful)

Khaul refills the old man's glass "Thank you Khaul Irontoe - ya know, I knew a dwarf once. Couple in fact..." Ven is about to head into another story "Fine people really. Said they were of the Ironknee Clan. Funny story about one time I hired them to pick some of those them there grapes, thinkin' it'd be an advantage them being so, well, them being at the perfect height, until there was an incident which caused all sorts of..." another 3d6 ⇒ (3, 4, 5) = 12 minutes here "...and I made up the losses by re-planting the entire crop!"

Khaul and the party notice that the carafe is now one-quarter full...

"I like that!" to ""Duncan the Upright!" I tell ya, the last time I had a nickname was..." he pauses to think here, scratching his head "...Oh musta ben before that ol' mayor started called me "Old Ven" which, her being a young whipper-snapper, does little in service to the things I have accomplished in my time, besides not dyin'" he chuckles here, laughing overly long at his own joke, and glancing round the group with anticipation, as if expecting the humor to be met with a laughter from his captive audience.

Whether or not it comes - and whether or not, if it comes, it serves to simply placate him, or conversely, spill naturally, he pivots: "Duncan the Upright, Khaul Irontoe, please tell me about yourselves! Where are you from?"

He pauses once again to listen while sipping on his recently-refilled glass of red wine - without offering you any!

'I am Aurelien Castroviel'lo, from the deserts of Rahadoum. I seek knowledge of the ancient past to build a better future and I have been both blessed and cursed by my ancestors. Many of whom are offering helpful advice right now.'

Deciding to at least speak up, Emoubu speaks from the step.

"Marshall Emoubu is from Absalom. Beneath Absalom there are many, many, many tunnels. My people protect Absalom from things underground."

Ned immediately plops down onto the porch with a grateful groan. "Been on m'feet all durn day. How these young'ns do it is beyond me. Call me Ned. Coz that's m'name. Whadder ya know 'bout a grave 'bout sixty miles east o' town? Heard tell summat from the Society's past is buried there."

'I am Aurelien Castroviel'lo, from the deserts of Rahadoum. I seek knowledge of the ancient past to build a better future and I have been both blessed and cursed by my ancestors. Many of whom are offering helpful advice right now.'

"Deserts, eh?" he scratches his chin here, trying to conjure a memory "Well Aurelien Castroviel'lo, I don't know about no Ra-Ha-Doom, but I had a friend once she got lost in the desert for two weeks. See the problem she told me as it so happened was..." another 3d6 ⇒ (2, 1, 2) = 5 minute-long story "...and eventually those cacti are what made the difference!"

The glass in his cup slowly disappears as he speaks... he moves to take another sip, but stops short!

"Marshall Emoubu is from Absalom. Beneath Absalom there are many, many, many tunnels. My people protect Absalom from things underground."

"Tunnels, eh?" here we go "Yeh Marshall Emoubu, I kin see that you'd be one o' them K-Balds. Don't suspect the younger townfolk (It's clear he really means "Everyone in this Town"...) 'll be paying you warm glances - got some K-Balds making ruckus round these parts, but I don't think they got tunnels - not that folks are liable ta tell the difference anyhow 'tween diggin' and buildin' K-Balds"

As the party watches with baited breath, the old man once again raises the glass to his lips, and... finishes the rest of it, emptying his glass!

"Been on m'feet all durn day. How these young'ns do it is beyond me. Call me Ned. Coz that's m'name. Whadder ya know 'bout a grave 'bout sixty miles east o' town? Heard tell summat from the Society's past is buried there."

Ven Strickmund sticks one pinky finger in his ear here - you wonder if he even heard the question Ned asked, instead saying "Ohp! Looks like I'm low on the old red..." and he looks expectantly at the carafe that sits just out of his reach...

...which is still one-quarter full!

Duncan takes a moment to top off Old Ven.

Well, I'm Duncan the Upright. Originally from Cheliax I got the urge to see what was beyond a little fishing village on the southern coast so I caught a ship headed to the center of the world. Once I got to Absalom I hooked up with the Society where learning about fencing, magic, and the best ways to make sure I get the good wine wherever they send me. Not always pleasant, almost died once already, but it's never boring.

"Sounds to me you know a lot of folk in town. But we're on the trail of one that I'm thinking even you would't be knowing about." tries Khaul.

"Pathfinder of old. Before your time. One Kerinha Napsunar. Think there might be an archive or museum in town that we could be looking up information about her in?" he asks after Ven starts on his wine again.

Duncan takes a moment to top off Old Ven.

Well, I'm Duncan the Upright. Originally from Cheliax I got the urge to see what was beyond a little fishing village on the southern coast so I caught a ship headed to the center of the world. Once I got to Absalom I hooked up with the Society where learning about fencing, magic, and the best ways to make sure I get the good wine wherever they send me. Not always pleasant, almost died once already, but it's never boring.

Ven Strickmund nods "Thankee, Duncan the Upright - say, you mentioned a fountain of youth earlier - how that work?" apparently the old man can listen.

"Sounds to me you know a lot of folk in town. But we're on the trail of one that I'm thinking even you would't be knowing about." tries Khaul.

"Pathfinder of old. Before your time. One Kerinha Napsunar. Think there might be an archive or museum in town that we could be looking up information about her in?" he asks after Ven starts on his wine again.

Ven Strickmund sticks one pinky finger in his ear here - you are pretty sure he heard the question, but instead responds with "Khaul Irontoe - did I tell you about my dwarven friends the Ironknees?" has he forgotten that he has!? He launches into the story again, this time which take 3d6 ⇒ (2, 1, 1) = 4 minutes - slightly different version too! - than asks "So Khaul Irontoe, please tell me about yourself! Where are you from?"

He hasn't touched his newly poured glass of wine!

...but the carafe just out of his reach is now empty...

Ned, not being a drinker, has been paying exactly zero attention to the carafe. He's mostly just been getting more and more irritated at Ven's clearly purposeful ignoring of their more pointed questions. He stands up, causing a staccato of pops that makes him groan. "Bugger all," he grumbles sourly.

He gives his body a moment to catch up to his current upright position before waggling his stick. This character wants to play hard-to-get with his information, and Ned is tired of it. Time to change tack.

"Well, been a real nice spell, with tha chitchattin' an' all, but we got business ta tend to, an' it sounds like this Kerinha character's outside yer wheelhouse. Sorry ta bother you. Let's go, lads." He gets ready to leave.

I doubt it's going to work, but hey. Worth a shot.

"I be from a place called Tapestry" admits Khaul Irontoe.

"And the Ironknee family be me cousins so so I hear. Not that I heard of a Khaul on their side of the family. But me clan be a little... out of date so there could be one. Still, they be a bit too 'regular' to want such a name, if he get me drift."

"Well, been a real nice spell, with tha chitchattin' an' all, but we got business ta tend to, an' it sounds like this Kerinha character's outside yer wheelhouse. Sorry ta bother you. Let's go, lads." He gets ready to leave.

Ven Strickmund sticks one pinky finger in his ear here - you are pretty sure he heard the implied ultimatum, but instead responds with "What was that? Where did you say you were from, "Ned?" it is becoming clearer and clearer that his hearing is selective only when he selects that it be so!

He twirls the full glass in his hand, gently stirring it's contents, but does not raise it to his bearded face just yet...

"I be from a place called Tapestry" admits Khaul Irontoe.

"And the Ironknee family be me cousins so so I hear. Not that I heard of a Khaul on their side of the family. But me clan be a little... out of date so there could be one. Still, they be a bit too 'regular' to want such a name, if he get me drift." He gets ready to leave.

Rocking heartily in his chair, the man seems tickled by the story "Tapestry, Tapestry... never heard of it! And I think Khaul is a fine name - didn't mean to imply that all dwarves be related..." he begins sipping his wine again "...Come to think of it, last time I wrote anything down was in me school days. See, I was a rambunctious snapper, couldn't sit still te save me life! School marm tried 'er best ta right me, bless her heart, but all in all, I lasted about two weeks. See what happened was..." he goes on another 3d6 ⇒ (4, 3, 2) = 9 minutes telling the story "...so they had no choice but ta kick me out. But I kin still write me name!" he demonstrates in the air with his off-hand "Vee, Eee, Enn" motioning each stroke of quill, and pausing "Ess, Tee, Arr, Aye, See, Kay, Emm, Yoo, Enn, Dee!" proudly finishing his strokes with a flourish "Not that it's ever helped me grow wine..."

Soon enough, his glass is one-quarter full!

And just out of his reach, the carafe remains empty!

And he slowly turns his attention back to Nedri...

Aurelien now looks very wary. He mentally prepares for unpleasantness.

Ned scowls at Ven. He doesn't like having his time wasted, and this coot* is doing exactly that. "Bah. I'll be lookin' fer lodgin's. You whippersnappers can stay up if ya want, but we been here half the dang night. 'm gonna be up in four hours havin' ta use the outhouse, I wanna get some sleep a'fore we head off."

* Ned Thistle is many things, but self-aware is not one of them. XD

He takes his lit staff and starts heading away from Ven's home, then pauses and frowns, looking around. "Which way was that dang inn again?"

He stands there, staring at the dark pushing against the dome of his magical illumination, and hears a voice whisper at the far, far edge of his perception. He tilts his head, like an owl who's caught the sound of prey just outside its vision, then shakes his head.

He hobbles back up to the porch, plops down on it again with a grumble and a great deal of popping joints, and harrumphs. "Davarn," he says sourly, "up'n the Five Kings. Born 'n raised." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and waits for the long-winded and entirely unnecessary nonsense story Ven decides to come up with.

Coulda been nappin', he thinks sourly.

Just to be clear, Ned hates this. I'm freaking loving it. :D

Nothing so useful for you. There was a stone arch over the river, never did anything so no one cared. Except this time we got attacked by some goblins right before we crossed under it and no one noticed the weird glow that started up. We sailed right through a blue portal and ended up in the same spot. Didn't think anything of it until we landed. Everyone was older and no one was expecting us to arrive. Strange enough that I didn't do much for a year while I figured it out. Gave up on sailing, too.

He hobbles back up to the porch, plops down on it again with a grumble and a great deal of popping joints, and harrumphs. "Davarn," he says sourly, "up'n the Five Kings. Born 'n raised." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and waits for the long-winded and entirely unnecessary nonsense story Ven decides to come up with.

"Ne'er heard of Da-varn" Ven Strickmund teases his glass "But I used to have Five Nieces. The first of which, well, she was the worst, see she had a way with..." as predicted, an entirely unrelated story, this one taking 3d6 + 3d6 + 3d6 + 3d6 + 3d6 ⇒ (3, 6, 3) + (1, 5, 6) + (2, 5, 5) + (1, 2, 5) + (4, 4, 5) = 57 minutes - one for each Niece! - "...and because of that, my fifth niece cut off contact with me, and I hain't seen her since..."

At least he finished his glass - which now - like the carafe - lies empty!

"Nothing so useful for you. There was a stone arch over the river, never did anything so no one cared. Except this time we got attacked by some goblins right before we crossed under it and no one noticed the weird glow that started up. We sailed right through a blue portal and ended up in the same spot. Didn't think anything of it until we landed. Everyone was older and no one was expecting us to arrive. Strange enough that I didn't do much for a year while I figured it out. Gave up on sailing, too."

He perks up once more "Well - fer a man is supposed to be much older'n he looks, don't I cut a han'some profile?" self praise! "Wouldn't mind me a dip or two through that portal o' yers..." his knee, too, makes a popping sound, and Old Ven, concealing a sadistic smile of sorts, what with five young adventurers rapt, kept, trapped, the situation bare as raw flesh exposed from repeated rubbing, glances over to where the empty carafe sits, and, further back on the modest window sill, to the party's utter horror...

...there is another full carafe!!!

(How did we miss that!?!)

...he looks on expectantly at 1d5 ⇒ 2 Duncan and says "If'n ya don't mind - I possess not your blue portal" indicating to him with his empty glass. And once again, three things become immediately apparent:

1) The second carafe is full
2) It is just out the old man's reach
3) It would likely cost him a lot of effort to get out of his chair

Emoubu looks weirdly at second carafe.

"Emoubu is impressed. Is good story. Emoubu wondering if you know more about Kerinha and her Lodgey place."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18

Khaul gets up and stalks to the new carafe, passing it to Duncan to fill.

As he does he, he casts a suspicious eye around for other carafe's that may also be lying in wait for unsuspecting guests to pour from.

Khaul was unable to discover any additional carafes in the nearby vicinity, besides those two aforementioned...

Seeing Khaul take action, Ven Strickmund relaxes a little, knowing the refilling of his glass is underway. When he smiles now - a more authentic smile, not the predatory grin of a cat playing idly with the mouse before it eats it - his wine-stained teeth glisten in the candlelight!

“I dunno bout no Kerin-ha, no, but, round ’bout a hunnerd years or so ago, my pappy’s pappy’s pappy’s pappy bought this here land from a feller from the Pathfinder Society. Got a great deal too, on account of how he was a Pathfinder hisself. My pappy’s pappy’s pappy’s pappy that is, of course the fella sellin’ the land was a Pathfinder as well. Anyways, this wasn’t a great place for a lodge at the time; too much a goin’ on, too many folks riled up about Pathfinders. Your group hasn’t always had the best reputation in all parts, though yer allus welcome ’round here." his eyes lose focus here, and he stares blankly, momentarily confused "Where was I?" he seems to have lost his train of thought - it takes a couple sips of yet more wine before he recovers "Right, right, the old lodge. It was a big t’do at the time, on account of the money from the sale of this here estate being used to buy the deed to Diggen’s Rest, an ol’ keep ’bout a hunnerd miles east o’ here. Folks ’round these parts know the stories ’bout the battles and such fought ’round there back during the empire days, an’ suppose’dly there was e’en a ghost or some such. Pathfinders at the time figgered it was a proper place to move their books an’ such. Ghosts tend to keep the vis’ters away, y’know? Funny thing is, I don’t know as that Pathfinder ever came back through here. Maybe they’s still out at Diggen’s Rest, maybe they went somewhere else? Yer best bet’s probably to go look for yerself. I kin mark it on a map fer ya, or close ’nough, and I’m sure you can get supplies fer the hike here in town.”

He attempts to lean over in his rocking chair to do just that - mark it on your map - but after a decent effort to strain his back and body - somewhere between the creaks and sores of old age and the impaired motor function of a night of wine-"sipping" - his efforts only seem to wind him up to whip back into his chair, defeated by inertia with a THUD. His face contorts into a giddy expression and his wrinked cheeks flush from cranberry-red to grape-purple, and he hiccups, belches, and spasms from the effort.

Aurelien mutters under his breath 'I think he is pickling himself in order to live longer.' Then a little louder 'I am sure we can deal with the spirits of the dead. We should find a place to sleep before heading out.'

Duncan brings the map closer so Old Ven can make his mark.

You know, I have an uncle who lives wine almost as much as you. Now he's a bit of a scholar, languages mostly, took him all over...

Duncan's story continues for 3d6 ⇒ (5, 6, 3) = 14 minutes.

... and that's how he ended up wandering half of Cheliax sampling as many vineyards as he could find. Well, thanks for the help. Maybe we'll get a chance to come by again before we leave.

Ned leans against one of the porch's posts, snoring lightly.

We are way past his bedtime after that last story lol

Sauerton (Interlude)

You all wake early in the morning - to the smell of pork being cooked! - pulling your heads out from five musty but warm blankets - with a foggy memory of the night before.

Three of you slept peacefully.

”Goo’ morning!”

A plate of bacon and eggs is thrust before each of you - somehow he managed to juggle all five of them across his house to serve you all at the same time - with piping hot food!

”Packed some extra rations for ya - ‘nuff ta make it the whole hunerd miles east” indeed, on his porch is an extra backpack stuffed to the brim. ”May wanna rent yer own horse - up to you though - dunno if time is against ya er not”

He then takes his place back on his rocking chair - at the center of the five blankets, and, incidentally, the five of you - and proceeds to watch you eat!

”Sorry ta say cain’t go with ya. But I do say: If’n ya find anything - assumin’ them ghosts don’t git ya! - stop back by me place and lemme know what you discover!”

A third carafe is perched on the window sill, and Ven Strickmund gets up to pour each of you a glass of wine in your own cup ”Good for picklin’ the heart, this” looking towards Aurelien with a knowing glance and a wink.

100 Miles (Part One)

To represent Overland Travel, we will need one person to roll Sense Direction (Survival) vs DC 10

...

After bidding a thankful farwell to their host, Khaul looks at the map, up at the sun and then at his compaions.

"Sun don't move like that in the Tapestry.." he mutters.

"But if nobody else is going to take the first step I will.

[ooc]If anyone is trained in survival, then lead on, otherwise Khaul will, with an untrained +2[/dice]