Longroads Coffeehouse 2.0

Game Master chadius

"Magic Missile it is, then!" Gorm hands Fran the scroll. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get some water after that... intense horse talk." Gorm stands up and beelines to the bartender.

With four missions on your plate, it may be time to set out and choose which mission to handle first.

Once 2 of you choose the same mission, we'll go to there.

"I'm startin' ta think Gorm get kinda queasy 'round blood. You guys ok with it? Things tend to get a bit messy sometimes when things get real."

One vote for the petrified mission first.

"A stone Pathfinder. Huh!" Finn picks a few stray hairs from his 'stache and tosses them on the ground. "Say, is this Meat Wagon filled... with meat? Do you have a wood oven built into it too? 'Cause ya should! Digging into a steak while on the road sounds amazing!" His mouth waters.

Ya I'm good with Westgate as well!

Westgate is fine for me as well

Time to restore someone turned to stone. You have a salve of antiparalysis and a target to apply it to. But it’s never that easy, is it? Westgate's citizens are livelier than usual, leering at anything extraordinary. And you are anything but ordinary.

You can spend 2 hours and make a Diplomacy check to learn more about what’s been happening in Westgate recently.

Stitch grabs a biscuit on the way out, waving the others towards his specialized contraption of conveyance, speaking with great pride "This here is Meat Wagon. And to answer your question Pal, no, its not full of meat. But I do got an old Jorge Morman grill in there if ya got anythin' to cook." But I guess if this trip goes bad I could be carting some extra 'meat' back to the coroners. Hopefully not me.

Before you is a large enclosed wagon idling loudly in front of the Grand Lodge. Black smoke puffs regularly from metal tubes around every side of the vehicle. A heavily reinforced set of steel bumpers protect the forward and aft sides, while on the opposite side a large scythe is mounted but folded up against the side of the wagon. Most of the top of the wagon is what you'd call 'open concept' other than an oiled tarp that's currently rolled up and not in use. A couple metal folding chairs are bolted to the deck. One facing forward, the other back to.

"Don't worry, some extra sun is good fer the skin ain't it? Hop on and get close, space is a bit tight for this many of us." He bangs his fist on the dash "West Gate, where ever the heck that is. And don't swerve around any rodents this time!" Frickin' squirrels!

Thoughts on underworld lore being used on this mission? +7 The same applies for legal lore, also +7.

Rumble Rumble

SQUEAL!

For several blocks, the quiet lanes of Westgate’s residential neighborhoods feature small houses, low-key cafes and taverns, and the occasional specialty shop. The fragrant scent of tended flower gardens in the warm sunlight blends with the low hum of distant conversation over what would normally be a pleasant boulevard. But the stone statues—at first appearing only here and there, like odd decorations—now number several per block, and the otherwise plain square ahead is outright cluttered with stone figures. They take countless forms, from humans and halflings to orcs, lizardfolk, and even stranger, all forever frozen in acts of desperation, defiance, or despair. The quaint, statue-filled square is also filled with people; several dozen townsfolk shout and argue, their voices somehow out of place among the silent statues.

Stitch hops off the Meat Wagon to investigate the area. He's having trouble finding some of his regular customers, however and he isn't able to get any more information.

At the center of the angry crowd are 3 people, whipping the rabble into a frenzy. They eye you with suspicion and the crowd raises their trash and chamber pots. They're not letting you move an inch closer.

Jorius Acquin points to you. "By town ordinance 3.14, paragraph 16, these statues are property of Westgate. You cannot take them away." You can use Barrister Lore, Diplomacy and Legal Lore.

Terra Algemy raises her holy symbol and the crowd turns to her. "By the will of Abbadar, the participants followed the laws of the land. To disobey this is to disobey the will of the gods." You can use Acolyte Lore, Religion and Abbadar Lore.

Barrus “hictank” Vandrus raises a mug ”What they said! They couldn't outrun the gorgons? Too bad, that’s tradition. It’s… also illegal now. But you’re messing with seven centuries of history here! You can’t just waltz in and do that? We won’t let you!” You can use Drunkard Lore, Deception and Alcohol Lore.

Looks like you’ll need to talk to the crowd’s leaders and calm them down first while enduring the crowd’s assault.
Each of you have 2 opportunities to make skill checks. Intimidation always works, but the check is more difficult. You can choose to Aid instead of making a skill check. If you have skills that target multiple people like Group Coercion, that can be used here.

Round 1
Finn
Roark
Scratch
Fran

Roark moves forward, his arms raised, showing he means no harm.

"No need to get violent, friends. Can't we try to reach an understanding? This man's family needs him. I'm sure your families would try to get you released if you were in this position as well."

Diplomacy vs Jorius: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

"Illegal, you say? Which is more illegal, public drunkenness or condemning a family because you won't change an already repugnant tradition" To be fair, Roark is just making things up as he goes along.

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

GAH!

Finn pleads with the Statue Defense Force. "Hey now pals, let's just take a step back here. Your god can look past one small thing like this, can't he?"

Religion vs Terra: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

Likely failing to convince her, he turns to the drunk, hoping to distract him. "Look over there! See that Wagon? It's full of beer! Check it out!"
Deception vs Hictank: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

Double 'Gah'!

Stitch looks down from atop Meat Wagon at the jeering crowd protecting their beloved statues Cripes sake, there's always a catch ain't there. If things get rowdy gonna need to test out Meat's new crowd dispersing abilities...

"Hey you!" He points to Jorius "I know a few things about legalese too, and maybe you need to read the subtext of 3.14 for exclusions. Like the one that says Not all judgements are final, some EXCLUSIONS APPLY!"

Legal Lore: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

Feeling pretty confident in his rebuke, Stitch revvs Meat Wagon's engine to squeal the tires a touch before rolling ahead a few feet to rebutt Terra. "Abbaddar likes followin' the rules right? Well some of these statues got screwed and it ain't their fault. Crippes, some of 'em look like dog walkers in the wrong place at the wrong time!" He points out a pair of stony pugs cowering behind a halfling statue.

Religion: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Finn pleads with the Statue Defense Force. "Hey now pals, let's just take a step back here. Your god can look past one small thing like this, can't he?"

[dice=Religion vs Terra]1d20+4

Likely failing to convince her, he turns to the drunk, hoping to distract him. "Look over there! See that Wagon? It's full of beer! Check it out!"
[dice=Deception vs Hictank]1d20+3

Double 'Gah'!

"Ain't no free beer in THIS wagon, unless yer bringing it Pal!"

Barrus “hictank” Vandrus laughs, almost spilling some ale from his mug (but keeping it all in with a last second save). "There's no beer in that wagon, I ain't *hic* that stupid! Get out of here!" He waves Finn and Roark away.

Stitch walks up to Terra and starts going into details of the law and holy scripture. "Hmm, you do have a point. We don't always have the full details of an event- Perhaps I need to do more research. Jorius, do you agree?"

"Hmm, he is correct about 3.14..." Jorius has a book almost as thick as the Meat Wagon's wheels. "The Law of the Gorgon allows some cases to be reexamined. I believe they are authorized to expunge the record on that statue. I must return to the library and look for other exceptions. Care to join me, Terra?"

The duo part some of the crowd with a wave of their hands and leave. "Where're you goin'! Whatever, more booze for me!" Barrus continues to drink and the crowd hangs off his every word.

It's all up to Fran. Intimidation, Drunkard Lore, Deception and Alcohol Lore will apply. You get 2 chances.

Well, Fran is trained in exactly zero of the listed options but by gosh she'll try anyway!

Oh dear...drunks are so unpredictable and this one doesn't even seem to be a *nice* drunk. Maybe I can scare him away? Oh, but I'm not very scary! But I have to try...

Fran takes a deep breath before silently walking up to Barrus. She musters all the piss and vinegar and mysteriousness she has within her (which normally isn't much) and looks him right in the eyes.

"You won't let us? Oh dear, well that's a shame. You see, I just put a spell on you and now you're mine. You can't stop the things I do. And I ain't lyin'."

"Of course if you just walk away now and stay out of our business then I'll reverse it. I'm reasonable like that. But if not, well...your wretched little life has all been cursed. Because of all the witches working...I'm the worst."

She smiles.

Intimidation (U): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
______________

Going to wait and see what the outcome of this one is before I make a second check.

Barrus locks eyes with and shudders so much, he spills his ale. "Oh no, I'm cursed! I feel it!" The crowd stops and stares in terror. "My vision's blurry! I can't... remember what happened last night! And my voice is all slurry. G-g-get away from me! I need more booze! Where's the nearest tavern?"

He runs up to Finn and shakes his hand vigorously. "Oh, the Beer Wagon! That's what you meant, right? Bless you stranger! Everyone, let's go before she curses all of us!" Barrus flees, and the crowd soon scatters with him. Without a threat in the area, it’s pretty easy to find the statue.

Crowd is dispersed without combat.

With all of that handled, you restore the statue back to life. The stony exterior becomes soft as flesh, and the elven woman gets to take the first step in who knows how long. ”Whoa!” She stumbles and regains her balance. ”How long have I been there? Bless Acavna!” She holds her idol close. ”I don’t have much but… here, take this idol of the goddess of magic. Well, the Azlanti goddess. Much better than that other one.”

"Um, hi," Fran waves awkwardly. "I'm not sure how long you've been here but the Pathfinder Society sent us to set you free, since you got punished for acting on their orders," she explains. "You know, um...was it Gorm? Gorm Greathammer, he's the one who sent us. So...maybe you've not been stuck here too awful long?"

She smiles, trying to be optimistic.

Meanwhile, Mister Midnight gives Fran a strange look.

"Meow?"

Good job, Fran! But wasn't most of what you said part of a song? Good thing that man didn't seem to know much about music...

"Yep." Is all you hear Stitch say as Fran starts going on about being a witch. His gaze shifts back and forth between her and Mister Midnight. A real witch? Well, she's got a black cat.. that's pretty 'witchy'... she's, well.. a SHE.. we all know you gotta be a she to be a witch... I wonder if she floats? Has as broom? Likes to eat kids? Best keep one eye open and keep on best behavior.

"Ya, Pathfinders, fresh outta the box. We just tore off our tags an hour ago, but hey, we can offer ya a ride back to the Grand Lodge fer a eat n greet with Gorm. Just don't mention anything about horses or ham."

Religion +5 vs Acavna.

Stitch is never one to not accept payment or a tip "Thanks for the idol. Must be working, you're good to go now, and if ya think you want a look over just hop up in my wagon there and tell me the issue." It looks and sounds pretty sketchy, with a practiced line he's sure to add in "Oh, you'll be fine, I'm a doctor!"

"Time doesn't mean much when you are long-lived." The elven woman looks about the town square. "I must make sure to visit the descendants of my old friends after this." She sighs with the voice of a journey she hates revisiting. "Let's return to the Grand Lodge."

Luckily you're back at the right time: lunchtime! Trays full of roasted pork, vegetables and sautéd nuts line the buffet tables. Gorm already has a buffet plate filled when you return. "Aye, Vaidys! Good to see you again."

The woman tenses up before boxing away her pain. "I told you those statues would get me in trouble. I have a lot of catching up to do."

Gorm sighs. "Aye, you do, you do... Sit down, I'll catch you up. One of your friends found the legal loophole that freed ya. I'm certain he wants to hear from ya."

Vaidys cracks a smile as she sits down and the two of them have a private chat.

Where will you go, next?

Roark gives Fran a warm smile (though I have no idea how a bird can smile) and a pat on the shoulder. "Squawk! Well done! You drove off those troublemakers! I should learn from you!"

"What!? Lunch time? Get over here," Finn zips over to the buffet table and loads three plates up, for himself of course, only offering a morsel here and there to Fran's cat. "Sho I wash thinking we'ff should go to that schkary ship nekst," he manages while inhaling a mountain of noodles. "Gotta track down thosh schmugglers!"

Once your bellies are full, you head toward the Floatsam Graveyard. Maybe it’s time to ask around and find out what’s on this ship.

You can ask around and spend 2 hours on a Diplomacy check to learn more, or you can head straight there.

Remember your mission. Eando Kline wants you to locate and identify the creature aboard the wrecked ship and decide what its fate should be.

"Hang on, I'm gonna go see if I can ask around and get some details to wash out," magnifying glass in hand, Finn stalks around to see if anyone knows what's up with the ship.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

"Ship sounds pretty good. Let's just be sure we don't step in anythin' deeper than our boots. There's some pretty deep water usually 'round the docks if ya ain't careful. If ya catch my drift."

Again, if permissible, Stitch will use Underworld Lore +7 for anything sketchy about the Floatsam Graveyard or this ship. Maybe its too soon for anything very specific yet, dunno.

-----

Society vs Roark: How much does Stitch know about Tengu?: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9 Nothing much!

Stitch fills a plate with pork and gravy, with a side of salty nuts and a cold beer before sitting down next to Roark "So, Roark, where uhh do your 'people' come from? Well, besides eggs. Jungle birds? High mountain peaks? Or more the far off backyard kind?" Its pretty obvious he's never really dealt with a tengu before, looking over his choice of equipment.

"You sleep in a bed or on a perch or something?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

Roark asks around. "So what do you know of the ship at the Flotsam Graveyard? Anything interesting?"

Roark is aghast at Stitch's question. He lets off an offended squawk and stares at Stitch. "If you need to know, I am from Tian Xia. My "kind" as you put it, are a noble race and we do NOT sleep on perches. What do you think we are? Birds?!"

If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck...

"Ahh Tian Xia! Birthplace of gunpowder!" He ignores the rest of the bird dander floating around, obviously more intrigued with his homeland.

"So do all you noble races of feather covered, beaked, squawking non-birds use guns?" He quickly draws out his own clan pistol and shows it off. A short compact pistol, well oiled thick wooden stock with a jewel set in the pommel, adorn with Dwarven symbols. Its probably the only clean thing on the man's person.

"Got this baby when I was just a baby! Knocked a few times my share of crows on the garbage cans in my youth. Knocks the beak off them things easy at 80 paces!"

Roark gives Fran a warm smile (though I have no idea how a bird can smile) and a pat on the shoulder. "Squawk! Well done! You drove off those troublemakers! I should learn from you!"

"Um, th-thanks," Fran smiles shyly. "Normally I'm...not all that good at being scary. Didn't know I had it in me, but I'm glad it worked!"

Feeling a small boost of confidence after her little stunt in Westgate, Fran actually takes the initiative to ask around a little about the Flotsam Graveyard and the rumors of strange beasts lurking there.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

Later, when they all meet back to share what they learned, Fran can't help but listen with some interest to Stitch and Roark's conversation.

"Oh w-wow, you came all the way from Tian Xia?" she asks, eyes wide. "I've never been...but I'd like to, one day, maybe. What's it like there?"

All the while she gives Stitch a bit of side-eye as he shows off his firearm and talks about knocking beaks off of critters. "Um...were crows really that bad that you had to use them for targets? Seems a little mean..."

"I actually don't remember much. I left to see the world shortly after my feathers grew enough that I was no longer considered a hatchling."

Roark gives another offended squawk and pointedly ignores Stitch.

Would it generate infamy if Roark were to tackle Stitch? :)

Stitch realizes his oversharing of sensitive information and quickly tries to diffuse the situation. "Ya, we all do dumb s%*+ when we're young. Guilty as charged officer. Chalk it up to being a sheltered ignoramus."

He clears his throat and tries to move the conversation past birds. "This huge arse city really draws in all manner from all over. I came from way down south to visit the clockworks. See if they had any mods I could pick up for Meat."

Stitch doesn't hear too much about smuggled creatures. He manages to ruffle feathers among some of the sailors, though. "Hey! My First Mate is a tengu! Leave 'em alone!"

The sailor motions to Roark. "Come on, free beer on me. And for the missus with the cute kitty." Finn convinces him to tolerate Stitch.

"Yeah, I've heard about that ship. It chased the people off and then stayed on the ship. Those barnacle-brains say the creature's bored and wants to see something exciting before it leaves. Play it a sea shanty, or something interestin' to read, or a pretty sight to see. Maybe that will calm it down."

"There's another issue. The deck has scorch marks all over. Someone's been breathin' flames across the hull. It's that creature, I suppose. Watch out for those flames. But first, a pint of ale! May Besmara keep yer alive until you find yet treasure!"

After a rowdy time at the bar and some preparation, you proceed to the ship. The weathered boards of the ship’s main deck are cracked, warped, and thoroughly covered in a thick, stinking carpet of algae, seaweed, and barnacles. The sodden mess squashes and scrapes underfoot, while squawking gulls circle overhead. The ship once boasted three masts, but they are now broken off only a few feet above the jagged railings. Whatever other distinguishing features might have once existed on this vessel are either long lost or utterly obscured. Empty doorways lead into cabins to the fore and aft, and a dark opening descends into the lower level.

The ship map is on >Slide 1<. The top deck is on the bottom of the page.

With all of the vegetation and barnacles, the top deck is full of difficult terrain. You could move at full speed along the railings and balance across using an Acrobatics check, DC 15

Finn notices the scorch marks across the deck. Definitely the marks of a fiery breath.

"Um...is this ship even stable?" Fran queries as she looks around, uneasy. "It sure doesn't seem like it..."

She carefully begins picking her way towards the aft cabin, since it's closest.

The aft cabinet has a smashed table, flipped over soggy bedding, and an overturned cabinet. Who ever was here left in hurry. Nothing of value remains.

"Ya mean I gotta leave Meat Wagon at the docks? If I come back n he's up on blocks I'm gonna send the bill to headquarters I tell ya."

---

Stitch slowly makes his way onboard, deciding to help with what he knows best, he takes a good look at the stability of the ship "I'll check on it, make sure she'll float."

Not sure if this would be a secret check since its kind of like recalling knowledge? Crafting +7

"Well, um, there doesn't seem to be anything in here except old, rotten furniture," Fran reports over her shoulder. Noticing that Stitch is working on assessing the wreck's sturdiness she waits to hear his opinion before heading towards the fore cabin.

Stitch looks at the water logged boards and knows this ship will never sail again. Downstairs should be dry, but this ship isn't worth salvaging. It will remain here for months without some salvaging effort.

"Well, doesn't look like its going anywhere: bottom or back to sea. Guess just take it slow and let's find somethin' interestin'." He investigates the old dingy and surrounding areas to the east.

Searching +5

Roark follows Fran, apparently fascinated at how this seemingly shy individual is much more than she seems.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

He easily picks his way across the deck.

Stitch takes a look in the prow of the ship. Splinters of wood litter the former storage room. Besides some rotten bananas and moldy oranges, there is nothing of real value.

Roark easily maintains his balance without hanging onto the sides.

"So where's this fire breather at? There a dragon on this ship or something?" Finn looks around the area like an overenthusiastic tennis umpire.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8
"Gah! Damn weeds!" He nearly trips as he makes his way through the ship, heading to the lower level.

Stitch perks up Did someone say weed? He follows Finn below deck, slow and steady, old man Dwarf style.

"Everything topside looks pretty spent. The good stuff must be packed up down below. Hopefully we don't need snorkels." Taking one last look at the scorch marks, Stitch draws out his clan pistol and gives it a kiss. Shoot straight old buddy n I'll give ya a good oilin' later.

Sharp beams of sunlight filter down through cracks in the main deck to cast this cargo hold in a dim light. Though the ship’s original armaments are now little more than rotted ballista mounts, this area shows signs of recent activity, including intact shipping crates, a recently broken crate, a few boxes, and faint trails worn through the slippery vegetation growing over the deck. Wooden doors in finer condition that the rest of the boat stand to the north and south, but the stairs leading further down now lead only into dark, scummy water.

Slippery algae leaves Difficult Terrain across the entire floor. As you descend down the staircase you hear an inhuman groan. Something emerges, stitched together from various bodies.

You notice a stack of shells. A stack of books. A stack of miscolored wood, sorted by shade of the rainbow. And a pile of rocks, sorted by size. The creature turns lazily towards you.

The creature sees you all and it isn’t violent yet. Maybe you can keep it that way. If you wish.

The creature is on >Slide 1<.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

Recall Knowledge to identify it, if I can do that. Assurance with Nature and Arcana for 14 and 16, respectively. Otherwise, my modifiers are +6 Occultism and +4 Religion for you to roll.

"Shh, there's something down here, pal," Finn whispers to Stitch. "Seems to have some kind of hoarding problem too. I'm trying to remember what it is though."

Roark heads downstairs and has a look at the strange creature.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15

He looks bored. Let's see if I can entertain him.

Roark begins to dance.

Performance (Dance): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14
Performance (Dance), hero point: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28

Woohoo!

Virtuosic Performer (Dance) Feat gives +2 to Perform checks when using Dance

Finn ponders what he's heard about the creature. It's a Fleshforge Dreg, a construct stitched together with enough sentience to perform simple tasks. But some dregs prove to be uncontrollable, and gain some semblance of free will. The dreg's breath reeks of burnt seaweed; this must be the source of the fire breath.

Roark takes a more direct approach and takes center stage, dancing across the deck like he's in a contest back in Tian Xia. Like always, he's in it to win it.

The creature stands up, curious. Watching Roark glide across the deck, it takes a clumsy step, two seconds behind. Then it steps back with Roark, to and fro. Soon it's moving around on its own, belching gouts of flame as it hoots gutteral groans of joy.

The Fleshforge is pacified. Where will you look next?

Stitch makes his way down the stairs and can't pull his gaze away from the dancing birdman He's really shakin' his tail feathers there.. He leans over and tosses a couple copper pieces into Roark's hat. "You ever work at Sandy's Clam Bar bafore? If not, maybe you should. They get quite the range of crowds there."

"Oh hells, there's a REDACTED over there!" He keeps his sidearm in hand but pointed to the ground.

Arcana/Occultism/Crafting Recall Knowledge +7

Fran is last to come down the stairs and she stops dead in her tracks as she catches sight of Roark and...whatever it is...dancing and having a grand old time.

"Kitty? Um, do I have brain damage somehow or am I really seeing this?"

Arcana/Crafting/Occultism +7, Nature +4~

"Maow!"

It's okay Fran, it's real. I don't know what it is, but it's real. And Roark is a good dancer!

Oh looks like I cross posted the GM with my last post.

"Fleshforged... that's from down my way... hrm." Stitch keeps his pistol in hand as he edges past the dance floor to look around. Wonder if I can't find something helpful down here.. some schematics? Formulas? Maybe something to help Meat's fire belching, damn it'd be nice to make it function more reliably.

He moves to check out the cabin behind them.

If Roark stops dancing, will the Fleshforge go hostile? Otherwise, Roark will just continue dancing... oh, and I goofed with the modifier. It's only supposed to be +1, though it doesn't matter since I rolled a Nat 20

Roark finishes his dance with a flourish, and the fleshforge keeps dancing on its own. It even grabs some planks of wood and knocks them in sync.

Stitch decides to take a gander in the map room. This cabin’s floor has been cleared of the algae present everywhere else on the ship, and a simple table has been set up in the center of the room, with a few chairs pulled up around it. The aft wall bears a large carving of a coat of arms, visible even despite the wear of the elements. An antique lantern hangs above the carving, casting a faint light over papers strewn over the table.

He does not find anything of value in the map room- most of the maps are common.