(PFS2) GM Round Robin: Into the Year of Shattered Sanctuaries (Inactive)

Game Master Farol

Dot and delete

You've all been invited into a meeting room in the Grand Lodge in Absalom. Some, if not all of you, are fresh-faced Pathfinder recruits who have just completed your three-year training and are ready to undergo your Confirmation - a customised final test of skill, resourcefulness and dedication.

Three individuals enter the spacious meeting room. A male elf, garbed in fine red robes with gold embroidery enters first. The second to enter is a woman with snow-white hair and a cluster of multicolored gems orbiting her head, laden with books. Finally, a bald human male with a bushy beard smiles widely and then curses to himself as the array of weapons along his back get stuck in the doorframe.

These three are the deans of the Pathfnder Society. Kreighton Shaine, the elf Master of Scrolls; Sorrina Westyr, the oread Master of Spells; and Marcos Farabellus, the human Master of Swords.

Kreighton takes the empty seat at the head of the table, while Sorrina takes an adjacent seat to his side. Marcos half-jogs to join his colleagues, but after a few seconds of awkwardly trying to seat himself and his panoply of back-mounted weapons, he pushes his chair in and stands behind it with a wide, if apologetic, grin.

“Regrets for the sudden nature of this meeting. I’ll try to be brief.” Kreighton begins. “One of our most enthusiastic Pathfinder initiates, a fungus leshy by the name of Rain in Cloudy Day, was recently approved for his Confirmation. In case you’ve forgotten, a Confirmation is a mission we send initiates on as a final test before recognizing them as full feld agents. It was a mission to the nearby nation of Taldor to search for some ruins in a swamp near the city of Cassomir. Standard fare for a Pathfinder mission, but Rain hasn’t reported back, and it’s been a week since his expected check-in.”

Sorrina Westyr extends a hand. “This is where you come in. Even though Rain in Cloudy Day is still an initiate, the Pathfinder Society doesn’t leave its own behind. Us three masters have agreed that a special exception is necessary. For those of you who haven’t finished your own Confirmation, we’re willing to offer each of you a place in a group Confirmation. We’ll provide a stipend of gold for you to book your passage to Cassomir, and from there, you’ll need to find out what happened to Rain.”

The Master of Swords, Marcos Farabellus, chimes in with a chuckle. “Exactly what my associates have just said. Find a boat, head to Cassomir, enjoy a bit of the city’s livelier elements, and then head into the swamps to find our missing initiate. Of course, if you find little Rain alive and well... then you can really prove yourselves by helping him discover those ruins and finish his own Confirmation!”

A young woman with dirty-blonde hair and pale green eyes, sits quietly with a rather dreamy and vague expression on her face. Suddenly, she seems to snap back to attention and raises her hand.

"I heard that the swamp is full of xulgaths who capture trespassers to their territory and sacrifice them to their dark gods! I hope Leshy Rain was strong..."

There's a pause and then she adds, more cheerfully, "Then again, I used to hear people say that Pathfinder agents are like cockroaches - almost impossible to kill. We'll be fine and I'm sure Leshy Rain is fine, too!"

Her studded leather armor creaks - it looks, sounds, smells brand new - as she then turns to face the other novice agents. Hanging from her neck is a symbol depicting a woman dancing on the moon.

"Hello New Friends! I'm Corona. It's wonderful to meet you," she beams, sticking out her hand. "I'm kind of glad I get to work with a team right away, instead of by myself. Nearly everything is more fun with a friend or two, you know?"
______________

Mash-up of the couple of posts I made in the old thread~

"HAI HAI!"

An enthusiastic woman waddles in, carrying a 30-gallon barrel of water on her back, in addition to carrying a backpack, plus wearing breastplate armor and carrying a trident. Merian is encumbered during Exploration mode - with a land speed of 10 feet!

"Hai hai, Corona! You're named after the stars! I'm named after the ocean!"

As Merian leans forward to high five Corona, her gills and webbed fingers become visible signs of her azarketi ancestry.

After listening to Farabellus, Merian frowns. "Oh, dear. No boats for me, they make me seasick. But I'll be happy to swim alongside."

Another leshy in the room is looking at everyone without speaking much so far. He seems to be made up of mostly roots, with a big potato making up most of his body. It wears some kind of heavy clothing, that makes its shape look more humanoid; its padded clothing has some light burn marks on them. As many pathfinders, it has a backpack and a couple of simple weapons, they do not seem to have been much use.

It waves to everyone “I am also an initiate, I have joined the Pathfinders as a thank after the prevented catastrophe in the Finadar forest. I’m called Hot Potato.”

After Shaine’s mention, it slowly says “I’m glad that I will not have to wrestle a minotaur…”

It asks “How far is it to get to Cassomir? If it’s already been a week since Rain In Cloudy Day left, by the time we get there it will be a lot more?”

More than a year ago, when the leshy joined the society he was quite hot. After some research by pathfinders, including the master of spells, it was found out that the mix of the abyssal energy that created him and the flammable aspect of the Finadar forest left a mark on him. It was supposedly going to wear off at some point.
Hot-Potato feels like it just told the master of spells “You’ve told me the left over from the creation ritual was going to wore of at some point. But it has not so far, as I still feel it. Is it OK if I go out like this for now?”, but just feels better somehow. The energy from the ritual must have been gone, and it is now free to use his connection to the plants.

It feels like this means it should change name, so it tells the others “I think I am not hot anymore. So my name should not be Hot Potato.” It thinks for a second “I like the smell of pines. Call me that, Smell of the Pines.”

He adds to the masters “Masters, do you think we would need any special equipment for this mission?”

"I like the smell of pines too, New Friend," Corona remarks as some of her teammates introduce themselves. She also cheerfully high-fives Merian, though she can't help but gawk a little at the barrel of water the azarketi carries on her back.

"That's a LOT of water, New Friend Merian! Do you need it to stay hydrated?"

It asks “How far is it to get to Cassomir? If it’s already been a week since Rain In Cloudy Day left, by the time we get there it will be a lot more?”

Kreighton Shaine replies, "Travel should only take a day or two, maybe more if there is bad weather. We'd calculated this mission to take roughly a week, and Rain would send a message if his findings were bigger than expected. But with neither Rain nor a message, we started to get worried. I hope he's only being held up, rather than in danger, because otherwise it might be too late indeed."

After that rather grim statement, Shaine looks at the faces of the other deans and all of you present, and adds hastily, "Things will work out fine, I'm sure. Pathfinders have a knack for surviving."

Hot-Potato feels like it just told the master of spells “You’ve told me the left over from the creation ritual was going to wore of at some point. But it has not so far, as I still feel it. Is it OK if I go out like this for now?”, but just feels better somehow. The energy from the ritual must have been gone, and it is now free to use his connection to the plants.

Kreighton Shaine puts a hand on your shoulder. "Friend, many of us have a past they're not proud of. But the past is not what defines us; our present is. You have performed well in your Pathfinder training. If you feel like your past is hampering you in some way, see that as motivation to improve and excel. Leave your past behind you, and remake yourself in a new image."

He adds to the masters “Masters, do you think we would need any special equipment for this mission?”

Shaine once again takes the lead. "Yes, as part of your Confirmation, we've provided you with some provisions we deemed useful to you."

He produces a small purse from his sleeve. "As part of your Confirmation, you need to arrange travel to Cassomir yourself. This purse contains 30 gold pieces, 6 gold per team member. Use this gold to travel to Cassomir, and use whatever is left to acquire information on Rain in Cloudy Day's current location. This is what we deemed enough for this mission. Use only this gold and no personal wealth of your own as part of your Confirmation. An important skill a Pathfinder needs to learn is to not waste money on frivolities and only use it when necessary."

Marcos Farebellus lightens the mood. "But that doesn't mean we'll let you leave entirely empty-handed. A good Pathfinder thinks ahead, and brings plenty of useful items with them." He pulls an Everburning Torch out one of his many sheaths and slides it across the table, while Sorrina Westyr puts two Minor Healing Potions on the table beside it. Then, Shaine pulls a Wayfinder from his sleeve and places it on the table as well. "While Wayfinders are normally reserved for fully acknowledged Pathfinders, it can be a useful tool to show your allegiance and to get along in the wilds."

Finally, Marcos Farabellus rummages in his pockets and jovially tosses two vials towards Merian and Smell of the Pines. "Catch!"

Merian and Smell of the Pines, make me an Acrobatics check to catch the items.

I think I rolled knowledges for everyone now.

To recap, you got the following provisions:
- 6 gold per person (30 total) Put it in my avatar bar so everyone can easily track it.
- Two Minor Healing Potions
- An Everburning Torch
- Two lesser antidotes (depending on whether Corona and Pines catch them)
- One Wayfinder
- Your return journey will be paid for, don't worry about that.

Into the room, walks a dwarf with vivid red hair and bright eyes. He is wearing clothes of a sailor, high boots, trousers, and a white shirt. On his arms, he has various tattoos. Behind his belt, he carries only a few knives and he moves with ease and dexterity. He smiles and laughs frequently, frequently moving, stepping and turning.

"I am sorry, Rawiri my name is. I was certain I had the right location, but I must have waited in the wrong place. Ha."

He greets everyone and takes a sit trying to catch up on what is happening

"Travel to Cassomir find our guy, eee Leshy. Save him and finish the emission. Sound easy."

"Can we stop along the way to eat some baked potatoes with bacon? I don't know why but all of the sudden I am hungry..."

A fifth arrives.

Clanging in heavy armor, if it isn't the sound of heavy metal that first penetrates one of your six senses, then perhaps it is the rank and unmistakable smell of rot!

With an uneven and unstable gait, the creature approaches, and to your utter horror, raises the visor of it's helmet to reveal sunken eyes which meet yours, tiny specks like a nearly-starless night over a too-bright city, signifying some semblance of life within this poor wretched creature, ugly, silent, still; still not unlike death, the miniature unconscious movements of healthy endothermic vitality noticeably absent. His face - you presume the creature to have a male gender - wrinkled like an onion, layer upon layer upon layer, dotted with what seems to once have been age spots, now faded and spread, a disease of spoiled flesh encroaching the curves around his jaw, his cheeks, his brow, the holes that might have once been a nose and ears, his neck.

And the rasp! "I am Ghul. You must be the others" The remnants of his thin lips curl into an unnerving smile as he looks at each in turn. To the untrained, this might seem an intentionally malicious gesture, but a closer examination yields an honest expression unfortunately cast upon a face incapable of preventing the skew of any warm sentiment, purposeful or otherwise. "I will keep you alive" the tiny emphasis on the word is somewhat disturbing - the exclusion of self in it's subject nefariously curious.

A sixth arrives... or rather, was already there?

Bestruck with the ghastly visage of our doomed hero, his unnoticed companion, drawn by reign, a mere horse, and at that, one on this side of the grave, keeps it's head low, trotting behind it's master, obedient, and apparently unperturbed by the palpable aura of near-undeath.

He introduces it "This is Unifax" the scratches of voice continue to stand the hairs on the back of your neck as he continues, addressing now the three gathered Venture-Captains "A continuation of The Trials I see - our Confirmation yet awaits" He grabs the everburning torch, avoiding the minor healing potions like a plague, then adds "I can light the way to Cassomir, that we may find this Rain in Cloudy Day"

Ghul shuts his visor once more, and looks ready to depart.

A small correction: we added Watery Soup, you're the sixth person (and Unifax the seventh).

As Ghul introduces himself, Sorrina Westyr mumbles, "Ah yes, I knew I forgot someone..." and slides another Minor Healing Potion and six more gold coins across the table.

Not sure if Marcos meant to toss one of those vials at Merian or Corona (whose last name is Meridian), but just in case... :)

"Oh!"

Having been staring curiously at Ghul, Corona is caught off-guard as Marcos tosses a vial in her general direction. She tries to catch it...

Acrobatics (U): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Acrobatics (Hero Point): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17 May as well, right?

...and maybe manages to do it?

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

"Oh, dear."

Merian flubs the catch, and she ends up praying to the gods that the vial is made up of a good, hearty glass that she once heard an elder Pathfinder talk about.

---

"Cassomir! I've been there. It's a huge city, bigger than anything we have in the ocean. And I heard there's even one bigger in Taldor!

And xulgaths! They'll attack anyone who tries to take a bath in the swamps."

"Why do you toss the potions!" yells the dwarf and looks at Merian

"Have I met you? In my previous lifetime maybe? Why do you smell crab meat? Darn, I am so hungry!"

Rawiri played bounty with Merian but then he was a halfling ;)And now I noticed that I haven't updated Rawiri tag line to lvl 2. My bad. sorry everything should be now in order.

Not sure if Marcos meant to toss one of those vials at Merian or Corona (whose last name is Meridian), but just in case... :)

I meant to toss it at Merian, not you, but I see I messed that up in the summary as well. You still have your Hero Point.

Merian just about misses, and the vial tinks harmlessly off the table, spins for a few seconds, then lies still. No harm seems to be done to the vial.

"Why do you toss the potions!" yells the dwarf and looks at Merian

Marcos lets out a belly-laugh. "A Pathfinder is always at the edge of his seat, ready for danger to strike at any time! This was just an example of what's waiting for you out there."

...Unifax walks gently over to the spun-and-fallen vial - his footsteps quieter than you might expect! - and taking it in his mouth, drops it in front of 1d4 ⇒ 1 Rawiri, and huffs...

"People throw potions at you in Cassomir?!"

Marcos Farabellus laughs again. "Ha! No, the potions are a metaphor! If you can dodge a potion, you can dodge a wrench whatever else the world might throw at you."

Sorrina Westyr pinches the bridge of her nose. "For the umpteenth time, Marcos, that's not what a metaphor is."

The leshy tries to catch the lesser antidote.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15

The leshy, full of confidence, tells them “I’ll make you proud masters. We’ll find what happened to Rain in Cloudy Days.”

When the dwarf mentions baked potatoes, Smell of the Pines looks at him with apprehension. It does not want to finish in hot oil.
He also looks at him with questioning look when he talks about wanting to eat fish, as if he wanted to eat Merian.

He warns the other about what he remembers “I think that region has flammable gas clouds and quicksand. We’d better pay attention to that.”

When he sees the undead looking creature, he’s about to cast a spell but the calm shown by the masters makes him think the creature is not here to attack. The sight of the horse ease him a bit, the creature seems well fed and taken care of, so he thinks that Ghul can’t be that bad.

@GM - Gotcha!

"And I guess if you can dodge a wrench or a potion, you can even dodge a ball," Corona remarks with a thoughtful smile. "That was always a fun game to play..."

After a moment, she snaps back to attention again.

"Gas clouds and quicksand? Prodding the ground with sticks might help avoid quicksand but I'm not sure about the gas clouds. Maybe the locals will have some ideas when we get there?"

After dividing all the consumables, Sorrina Westyr concludes the meeting. "If there are no more questions, it's time to start your Confirmation. I hope you bring Rain back safe and sound."

---

Absalom Harbour is bustling with activity, and after a few hours, you've found three ships that are all heading to Cassomir today.

"Ah, if you're going to Cassomir, the Powerful Hector's your best bet," a burly human male says. "The name's Eduard Tabrin, and this barge used to belong to my dad. He's retired now, but his namesake's still raring to go. I reckon it'll take us about 6 days to get there. While Hector isn't the fanciest of ships, but there's basic amenities and three square meals a day, for two and a half gold per person. Best deal this side of the Inner Sea, I tell ya!"

A bit further ahead is a polished whitewood vessel whose hull is decorated with golden filigree. Serving staff are carrying other people's luggage aboard, and a Kellid woman darts to and fro, eagerly shaking everyone's hands. "Welcome to the Mimosa, honoured guests! It is my pleasure to cater to your every whim. You name it, and it's on our boat: spa treatments, evening cabaret, live music, all-you-can-eat buffet with delicacies from all across the Inner Sea Region... It's a shame that the trip to Cassomir only lasts four days, really, but for five gold pieces, it'll be the best four days of your life!"

Finally, there's a ship that looks like it's had every single part of it replaced several times over. A dwarf stands on the dock next to it. "Pah, she may not look like much, but the Opportune built for speed! I stripped off every part that's not necessary to ensure I'll get ye wherever ye want to be, posthaste!" He gives the vessel a slap, and the sound echoes throughout the ship. On the other side of the vessel, a clunk can be heard, followed by a sploosh as something hits the water. "That's probably nothing. For only a single gold piece, you'll be in Cassomir in three days. Of course, this speed does come at a price.. Ye'll all have to bunk together in the same room as the crew, and there's only enough cargo room for two meals a day. But that's fine, right?"

Ghul eyeballs each ship's condition, lifting his everburning torch to do so, considers their prices against eachother, and weighs that against their number of days estimated travel...

1) Powerful Hector, 6 days, 2.5 gold
2) Mimosa, 4 days, 5.0 gold
3) Opportune, 3 days, 1.0 gold

He stands before the third, and with his own skin having a tendency to shed inconveniently, is undaunted by the chunk of the ship that the dwarf captain accidentally slaps off. Not all is as it appears to be...

"Oh, dear, I know nothing about ships. But they do make me sick, and I think we have better uses for our limited gold than to take a luxury cruise."

Merian favors the fast and cheap, which end up being the same ship in this case.

Mechanically, just so nobody else has to calculate it, Merian's 30' swim speed will end up translating to 24 miles/day; the distance from Absalom to Cassomir appears to be upwards of 200 miles (it's very difficult to find a Golarion map with scale!), which means that she'd take 8+ days to swim there. She'll stay with the group and ride a boat.

The scenario actually has a distance: roughly 230 miles. Good detective work, Merian!
Also, not that it's relevant, but keep in mind you need to sleep at some point. :P

I think the overland travel distances already factor in 8 hours of travel, 8 hours of another Downtime activity, and 8 hours of sleep (the Forced March rules would allow for double that movement for [CON modifier] number of days). Although I suspect Merian would sleep better in the ocean than on the deck of a boat.

"Oh New Friends, I'll try nearly anything once but maybe we should try the death-trap boat another day when we don't mind maybe having to swim," Corona remarks as the group weigh their options. "If we don't mind using most of our gold then the Mimosa would get us there the fastest out of the other two options. That might make a difference if Leshy Rain is in trouble! Ooh, but if we took the Powerful Hector then we'd have more money left for supplies and things that we might need..."

Rawiri has Sailing lore, would you give him some insight about the boats? +4 ;)

"I sailed through on few different ships, and let me tell you this. If I were a pirate I would attack Mimosa for sure. But... I don't think there are that many pirate ships here."

The dwarf says looking at the options. He draws a circle on the ground and divides it into three equal-sized parts with numbers on them. He takes few steps backs and grabs a dagger. Then he tosses it

Options, 1-Powerful hector, 2-Mimosa, 3-Opportune: 1d3 ⇒ 2

"With lack of better information my vote goes for Mimosa, why shouldn't we travel with a bit of comfort."

Merian, we can drag you on a rope behind the boat, if you prefer to sleep in the ocean ;) I doubt there is anything big enough to eat you whole :D

It all dawns on you that the sooner you arrive, the fresher Rain's tracks will be. But five gold eats a lot into your budget, making finding lodging possibly difficult.

"I am no expert, but I don't think the Opportune can reach the destination. At least not without additional stops to do the repairs. We might actually get to the destination later than with the other boats." shares with the other jolly dwarf.

The leshy adds “I’d rather avoid having to fix a ship, and if it takes longer it would be bad. Between the two other ships, getting faster might be worth it. That would leave 2 gold pieces left to spend for lodging.”

I know the leshy’s substraction total is incorrect.

"Okay, if the fast ship isn't going to make it, let's still get there as fast as we can ... we can always rough it in terms of finding lodging, but we can't make tracks fresher."

Merian also insists that the dwarf find whatever dropped into the water.

"The ocean isn't a trash can."

She'll dive down and pick up whatever fell off the boat, and hand it to the dwarf rather angrily.

Unnaturally still, not unlike a corpse, or rather, being fully armored with his visor down, not unlike a statue, Ghul patiently waits for the party to come to a decision, evertorch burning brightly in his hand like an overly elaborate sconce, randomly situated on the dock, out of place like a scarecrow standing in the middle of a crowded soiree.

In fact, it is quite possible that, muddled at being angry at the littering dwarf, Merian Seiche mistook our doomed hero for a sufficient "station" of sorts upon which to unload or hang her "effects" before diving into the water to retrieve the chipped piece of boat! - and if so, rightfully finding everything exactly in it's place upon her return.

Utterly unmoved.

The dwarf gives Merian a big grin when she comes back up with the ship part. "Thanks! Saves me throwin' my crewmates in there to find it. Much appreciated!"

So, just to speed things along a little, I'm going with the first boat that gets four votes as your decision. Sound fair? With six players, that's a majority vote. Please say if you don't agree, then we'll play it out.
Right now, I think Smell of the Pines and Merian vote for the Mimosa, the others are yet undecided. Rawiri decided on the Mimosa at random, but has not cast a definitive vote.

"Sleeping out under the stars can be nice," Corona responds after thinking it over a little more, weighing the opinions of her teammates. "Okay! Let's take the Mimosa so we can get there fast."

Rawiri sticks to his choice, his thrown dagger did not lie "I like Mimosa, a bit of luxury and speed."

+1 to Mimosa

"Nice swimming skills you have there Merian, I don't think I could have held my breath as long as you could."

As Rawiri is waiting he keeps on moving, walking, making turns, he laughs and sings even without company.

"Ghul have you ever thought about bringing some life to your outfit? You see a colorful scarf could make a mighty difference in how you are taken. "

The leshy just wants to get there fast. He thinks the team will still have enough money left, but that’s just because he did not count correctly.

Smell of the Pines looks at the reaction of Ghul at the remark on his clothing thinking shouldn’t he wear whatever he wants? he seems to like darker tones, like the colors of dusk or a moon-lit night.

You decide to head onto the Mimosa. As promised by the hostess, you have the time of your life. Your every whim is catered to, and the Kellid woman, who introduces herself as Javinda, seems to delight in truly taking care of whatever you want. As promised, there's sports activities for those who want to work out, there's a massage parlour, live entertainment, and so on. Javinda even has several mages on standby to conjure up whatever isn't available on the boat.

Four days go by in a blissful haze, and all too soon you arrive in the squalid city of Cassomir and head for Rain's last known location, the Three-Legged Frog inn.

Feel free to describe how you spend your time on the Mimosa.

---

Inside the Three-Legged Frog, a halfling woman greets you. "Welcome, customers! Oh, I see you must be the Pathfinders I was warned about. I'm terribly sorry, I don't know much about Rain in a Cloudy Day, I'm afraid, my husband managed things when he visited, and he's out doing errands right now. He'll be back in a few hours, don't worry. In the meantime, you might want to hire some rooms, yes? It'll be awfully late once Roland gets back, and you don't want to get lost in the swamp at night, I can tell you!

"Alas, we don't offer any cheaper lodging, but the hostel down the road has decent straw mattresses for one gold piece per night."

---

As you have a few hours to spend before Roland gets back, you ask around for information. Since Rain was here relatively recently, people have a good memory of him. The Mimosa's speed gives you a +2 on Diplomacy checks to Gather Information.

The leshy is a little embarrassed at all the attention given to him on the ship. He spends most of the travel on the deck, looking at the sea, or taking a sun bath. After a day, he also enjoys any live entertainment provided to the guests.

---

After paying for the Mimosa travel, Smell of the Pines realize that there’s very few coins left and feels embarrassed about not understanding sooner. It avoids mentioning the subject.

After hearing about the prices, it comments, “The hostel down the road seems like our only option.”

It tells the others what it managed to find out, that Rain in Cloudy Day showed up late due to bad weather and had to pay increased costs at the inn as a result. Desperate citizens stole his provisions and the pack mule that he’d stabled at the Three-Legged Frog inn. No one else has seen him since he went to meet his guide.

“I hope they found their way in the swamp.”

Merian doesn't fare very well aboard the boat, no matter how luxurious it is. She politely hands her 30 gallon barrel of water over to the coat check, and tries to stay near the bow of the ship. During the journey, she frequently feels ill, but doesn't throw up into the ocean, because the ocean isn't a dumping ground. Instead, she throws up on deck.

As soon as the boat pulls into harbor, Merian jumps overboard and swims to shore.

---

In Cassomir, Merian gladly accepts they'll need to sleep on the straw beds.

"I've heard Rain in Cloudy Day showed up late due to bad weather, and had to pay increased costs at the inn as a result. Someone stole his provisions and the pack mule that he’d stabled at the Three-Legged Frog inn. No one else has seen him since he went to meet his guide."

Our hostess's promise inverts for Ghul - our doomed hero spends the entire 4 days trying to suppress his appetite for the other passengers, pickling themselves with various spirits, prancing about in their swimwear, and generally making a lot of noise, which is incidentally insufficient to drown out the "sound" of his "stomach" beckoning him unto their exposed necks.

He had never in his long life been around so many people in such a crowded space. On more than one occasion, a curious and inebriated passenger would approach too close, and he would have to startle them by lifting his visor - better to scare them off with some cruelty than lead himself into temptation of drawing their blood. Once you start, it is nearly impossible to stop.

As it turns out he is not the only one having a poor time of it - albeit for different reasons - he finds himself keeping a watchful eye on Merian Seiche loitering near the bow of the ship. And when not doing that, visiting with Unifax in the stables, for hours at a time, making friends with the other horses therein, and if allowed by the staff, taking over the duties of caring for the confined beasts - feeding them, cleaning their pens, brushing their hair - himself trapped in transit, and able to relate.

...

In Cassomir, when talk turns to accommodations, he listens to what is available, and compares what they have left against it:

1) Luxury suites, 5.0 gold
2) Standard-fare, 2.5 gold
3) Hostel, 1.0 gold

Unsure they have much of a choice, as delicately as he can, he asks the halfling woman "Is the hostel a popular place for people to stay?" the rasp in his voice perhaps giving her a start, he is eager to see if he must spend a 5th day in agony...

As soon as Javinda notices two of her guests don't feel comfortable on her ship, two stewards hover around Ghul and Merian constantly (until dismissed by them, of course). "Are you feeling all right, madam," one steward with a mop and a bucket asks. "We have anti-seasickness medication in the doctor's office, and we have an aroma therapy room if that calms you down."

By the end of the second day, there's a knock on Merian's door. The two stewards from the previous day are there again. "Pardon the intrusion miss, but we did a background check, and you're an azarketi, right? Well, it took us quite a while, but hopefully we've made suitable arrangements for you. If you would follow us, please?"

If Merian decides to follow, she's led to the very bottom floor of the ship, where several rooms have clearly been knocked down and have been allowed to completely fill with seawater. Water-resistant furniture is arranged so that the area has a clear living area, a sleeping area, and so on.

"Our deepest apologies miss, if only you'd let us know beforehand about your situation, and we would've arranged this sooner. There was a bit of a debate whether you'd like to have some local fauna to keep you company, but we decided against it in case you were worried about animal cruelty. But it can still be arranged, if you'd like."

---

Similarly, When the stewards notice Ghul appreciates the company of animals more than he does people, when Ghul enters the stables on the second day, there are a lot less stable persons around. Instead, barrels of feed, animal toys, and grooming equipment are neatly laid out, along with instructions how to care for each animal. The other personnel around only reply when spoken to, or interfere when Ghul looks like he needs help.

---

At the Three-Legged Frog inn, the innkeeper responds to Ghul's question. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Cassomir is a big city, but it's not the richest. Many commonfolk simply don't have the funds for a better place."

I'll respond in twelve-ish hours with the next part of the story. It's not like you have a choice where to sleep, but I wanna leave some room for RP. If that's too fast, please say so and I'll wait some more.

Back on Mimosa

Perhaps the staff knew they prevented death - perhaps not. The space and relative solitude afforded to Ghul the opportunity to strip himself of his armor - under which he wears no clothing! - and to conduct himself in his most natural manner: Not unlike a beast!

A wickedly hunched back curved with years of the posture of bounding around knuckle-trod on "all fours" snaps into it's unnatural bent angle the moment the metal is removed. With each progressing day, the madness of knowing an entire "banquet" of well-fed "meats" gnaws away at his mental constitution: This manifesting as a relinquishing of control over what for Ghul are otherwise automatic sounds. Panting, growling, and even barking. He "talks" to himself, to the animals confined as they are in their pens, bobbing up and down with the waves, tending to their daily tasks with a surprising facility, one among them freed from the individual constraints of personal securement devices - chains, locks, bars - and caring for the herd.

From a corner pen, Unifax watches on, and nipping at the dhampir as he passes, like a proud mother preening her young buck, the intricacies of their relationship highly contextual, apparently hidden, and clearly well beyond the typical bounds of "master" and "steed".

The height of the bestial behavior would be around midnight on the second day, for never does the higher functioning of Ghul's mind recede beneath his indulgence, indeed, knowing himself midway through the trip, hour by hour he returns himself to the more "human" aspect of his demeanor, re-donning his armor, controlling his outbursts, and generally straightening himself back out in both a literal and metaphorical sense.

Having, the entire trip, satiated himself upon the flesh of 1d4 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3 rats, the general cleanliness of the ship making even this seafaring staple a rare delicacy...

At the Three-Legged Dog

It is as I feared!

"Madame - your information is most useful. It seems we, like the unhoused townsfolk of this fine city, will be relegated unto having to make do with what is available." He does his best to smile here, knowing all-too-well that, despite his word choice, any expression of his conversant's exhibiting something non-adjacent to pure revulsion is little more than a well-trained reflex in the twin skills of sensitivity and response to social situations. Notwithstanding, for being keenly aware of the curse of his mortality, he is apt to appreciate the innkeeper's affective effort in the matter.

At the Hostel

Crowded once more, the "pangs" worsen by proportional measure - the diet of vermin insufficient to make any appreciable staving off - and Ghul has no choice but to sleep himself outside - gladly accepting any consequences that result in the preservation of life at his own hand!

Merian gladly sleeps in the flooded hull of the ship, ensconced in soft, pillowy kelp like an otter.

Aboard the Mimosa

Largely a simple creature in terms of tastes, Corona enjoys the four days of luxury that the pleasure-ship has to afford. She takes especial joy in trying a number of new foods as well as taking advantage of the ship's spa services.

But her favorite thing of all is stargazing on the deck after the sun goes down, the breeze in her hair. There's something magical about watching them slip by above and watching their mirrored reflections pass by in the water below.

She'd stay out all night if she didn't need at least a little sleep.

Present

"Someone stole Leshy Rain's things!? How mean!" Corona snorts indignantly after asking around a bit finally does produce some results. "We'd better watch out so that people don't steal our things, too. And he still went out to the site without his things? That seems unwise."

After having secured lodgings at the hostel so ramshackle it doesn't even have a name, you return to the Three-Legged Frog. The halfling woman greets you and calls her husband over.

"Hmm, Rain in Cloudy Day? Yeah, I remember the fella. Nice person, though he seemed a little haggard. Said his boat got caught in a storm and got delayed, and the moment he set foot in Cassomir he got mugged for most of his possessions. Still, he seemed determined to go into the swamp, so he left without any provisions. That's about two weeks ago now, and haven't heard a peep from him since."

By this time, it's almost nightfall, and going after Rain seems like a bad idea now. You spend your last remaining gold on food and decide to head out tomorrow. As promised, the hostel's beds aren't great: everyone sleeps in the same room, the mattresses are stinky and hard, the sound of snoring continues throughout the night, and you feel fleas (and other tiny bugs) crawling across your skin. You have a night's sleep, but after the four days on the Mimosa, this is a big change of comfort.

Everyone, please make me a DC 15 Fortitude save. If you fail, read the spoiler below.

Rawiri had a time of his life on the boat to Cassomir, he danced and sang. He drank and ate, he slept well and enjoyed speaking to other passengers. Once he stumbled into the stables at night just to see a creature feeding on a rat, he run out of that place as quickly as he could. The next day he forgot about the whole incident.

His years spent on the ship made him feel at home there, and it was one luxury home.

=====================

In Cassomir he lost a bit of his optimism, the red-haired dwarfed just mumbled "Why couldn't we stay on that ship, they had everything!"

When they had a chance to talk to the innkeeper of Three-Legged Frog, he is still moving and smiling. When they are supposed to leave the place he turns around and say to the innkeeper

"My friend Merian heard that our pal Rain in Cloudy Day found his rainy day here, in this tavern. Apparently, his provisions and mule from your stables, after you ripped him off for the room since he came late. That story is a bit different than what you say." he focuses his gaze at the innkeeper and his eyes from playful turns deadly serious

Intimidate: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

"So tell us what on Golarion happened here to our pal. You might take Rain in Cloudy Day as easy prey, but we are here to find him and repay whoever did him wrong."

Rawiri puts his hand on his dagger

Fortitude save, DC15: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7

Fortitude vs DC 15: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

Ghul arises in the morning with the satisfying knowledge that his hunger didn't make the fool out of him - his joints achy in his armor and the strain of the constant pull towards animalistic behavior slowing his reflexes this day.

Rawiri: I'm not sure if this is in character, but you might be mistaken. In case it's not clear, this is what happened:
But everything that could go wrong for poor Rain in Cloudy Day went wrong. After bad weather delayed his voyage to Cassomir, Rain ended up spending all his remaining gold on increased inn costs. During his one-night stay in town, half of his provisions were stolen, along with the pack mule he had stabled at the inn.
Things might've gotten lost in my fluff text, for which I'm sorry. The innkeeper's telling the truth.

Fortitude DC 15: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18

The leshy listens to what happened to Rain in Cloudy Day, confirming what it had heard about, and happy to not have had the same misadventures.

In the morning it does not seem to have suffered too much from the night spent in the bad hostel. As usual, it spends his preparation time sun bathing a bit, talking to himself and plants, including some that managed to grow between two cobblestones. For breakfast, he searches for raw earth, makes a little hole in it, and buries his feet and hands into it for a moment.

After rejoining the others, he tells them “We know he went alone in the swamp, but I have no idea where to. Maybe we should ask a little more?”

The innkeeper takes a few steps back, surprised at the sudden turn of events. "I-I-I'm not sure what you've heard, but I'm telling the truth, honest! Poor leshy came in all wet and bedraggled, practically crying and told me that there was a big storm and he'd been knocked into the sea twice, and as soon as he arrived, he got robbed by some thugs. I don't know how to convince you, but I swear I'm not making things up!"

His wife arrives, notices the tension, and tries to defuse the situation. "Now now, I thought you were nice Pathfinders, and here I come and see you staring daggers at my husband! Please, take a complimentary cup of tea and let tempers cool a bit, all right?"

She guides you to a small sitting room, and after a few minutes a stable boy comes in and corroborates Roland's story.

Fortitude: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

"These bedbugs don't seem to like azarketi blood." Merian sleeps like an otter ensconced in kelp fronds, and wakes up refreshed and ready to head for the swamp.