[PFS_CORE_Aerondor] 05-07 Port Godless (5-9) HIGH TIER (Inactive)

Game Master Aerondor

Grog looks around.

"Got any biscuits?"

{Pietro tosses an appropriate amount of money at the seller.}

**Nom, nom, nom, nom, nom, nom, nom!**

"Biscuits? Biscuits! I have biscuits fit for an emperor. In fact, I have it on good account that Representatives of Authority have been known to purchase my biscuits in disguise."

He thrusts a tray of deliciously scented biscuits in the direction of Grog.

"But... you are not really here to talk about biscuits are you? No... few people buy copper and biscuits at the same time. No.. you want something else... something that Ishe could not provide!"

He rummages around the back of his stall, coming out with a jar of cooled juice. "One copper a cup!"

Grog sets down some copper pieces and grabs some biscuits.

"Hmmm..looks good." He bites down.

"We are a rather... eclectic - and hungry, group it would seem. so how do we find the guy that operates that area?"

"Ahh, well, Maroc is a man who is keen on his sport. Word is he had to see a man about a dog.." smiles Santigo. "And of course he only goes to the best dog tracks..."

"Ahh, well, Maroc is a man who is keen on his sport. Word is he had to see a man about a dog.." smiles Santigo. "And of course he only goes to the best dog tracks..."

Grog lays down 10 gold pieces. "Where's the best one?"

Santigo gives you directs to Horse's Hounds, a dog track near the outskirts of town. You can follow the directions without any difficulty. The final approach being made easier by the large crowd of boisterous fans.

Irizati gives the sign for warning and points his nose towards a group of Pure Legion soldiers.

"RIGHT." says Pietro in what for him is a whisper. "LOOKS LIKE WE'LL NEED A DIVERSION. SOMEONE WHO CAN BELIEVABLY PLAY LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS."

His eyes rove amid the other party members sizing up who would be best for the job.

Again, we are after know(local), diplomacy or bluff to work the crowd to see if you can locate Maroc

Grog looks around.

Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14

Grog looks at Pietro and rubs his face.

I wonder who can be loudest?!?

kn local: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

Silgil checks out the most obvious hiding places in a place like this. looking for Maroc, who might be trying to be inconspicuous.

Probably hiding from the legion.

Asking around, you find a few people who know Maroc, who is apparently a frequent visitor to the races. Apparently today he was grumbling about "Needing cash to buy some slaves. " and hoping that a few good bets would take care of the problem for him.

"No luck today though. Lost big a couple of times and then headed to the Jistka bathhouses to forget his troubles."

[spoiler-know(local) DC20]
The Jistkan Baths is one of the oldest bathhouses in Azir, and local legend claims the building dates back to the long-gone Jistkan civilization that once ruled northern Rahadoum.[/spoiler]

Asking around, you find a few people who know Maroc, who is apparently a frequent visitor to the races. Apparently today he was grumbling about "Needing cash to buy some slaves. " and hoping that a few good bets would take care of the problem for him.

Grog suddenly seems shocked and coughs.

SLAVES!

"'THE JISTKA BATHHOUSES!' NEVER HEARD OF THEM."

kn local: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9

"Well, I have, but there are a lot of them. I made sure to research this place before visiting, but I sure didn't memorize bath houses."

"They are just down there... second on the left" suggests a helpful punter, delighted with their winnings.

"Well, then, to the baths I guess. But lets avoid the law. I don't trust fanatics."

"HAVE A LITTLE FAITH." says the big cleric to the short wizard.

A few startled, almost agitated glances are directed at Pietro's direction as he mentions "faith" out loud.

The bathhouses seem to cater for both male and female, without any separation.

A sign indicates that the more, ahh, exclusive, areas are downstairs. The woman at reception eyes up your clothing and armour.
"While clothing is optional, street clothes are not permitted. If you wish, a robe can be provided..."

A sign indicates that the more, ahh, exclusive, areas are downstairs. The woman at reception eyes up your clothing and armour.
"While clothing is optional, street clothes are not permitted. If you wish, a robe can be provided..."

On the way over Grog lights a cigar. With it still lit, he walks in and looks at the woman.

"Yeah sure. I don't want anyone to touch my axe and weapons though. Can I set them near me in the baths?" He looks around, the cigar clenched in his mouth and grabs a robe.

assuming they're nearby or a towel

Silgil shrugs and packs away is street clothes, stuffing them in his bag of holding (which he is bringing with him, period), until all he is left standing in are his bright red skivvies.

"I'm ready."

"We can provide lockers for your clothes..." she looks a little in disgust before adding "and armor and weapons."

Eyeing up Pietro she adds "And we do have robes in large sizes if you wish to wear one.

"[b]There are some pools to wash in first.." she suggests, before pointing you to the stairs that lead down into the bathhouse proper.

"AHH! THIS IS THE LIFE!" he says gesturing broadly.

Pietro thanks the woman for the offer of a man-sized robe and strips down to his nearly unnoticeable speedo. He then bends over to rummage through his bathing kit bag.

He tries to make sure to take his handy haversack full of bath supplies like: a cheese wheel, haunch of salted pork, divine focus tankard, other tankard with him in case he gets hungry. If able he takes his morningstar (i.e. his huge metal backscratcher/large ferocious tiger pacifier) with him as well. He leaves on all of his magical jewelry. Like he tries to pass off his cloak as a multipurpose beach towel.

If able and if anyone else wants to try putting stuff in his bag, let me know.

bluff (bathing kit): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

Grog hands over his stuff to the woman and cigar in mouth follows the others to the wash area and soaks in the water.

"Yeah it is!"

He looks for the Pathfinder agent.

Let me know if anyone refuses to disrobe

Heading down the stairs you arrive in a broad hallway. It is lined with hooks and shelves that hold dry towels, bottles of scented oil, and a variety of combs and brushes. Several buckets of water line the southern wall.

Two entrances lead off opposite ends of the hall. One (at your end) leads to some type of swimming pool. Pleasantly cool breeze wafts from that door. The other exit is covered with thick curtains.

Grog wraps the towel around his waist and pokes his head near the swimming pool and looks for Kline.

Where in the Nine hells is he?

Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31

LOL I could use that 20 in combat

Silgil, closely resembling a bush in its red fall foliage, enters the area with the pool and plops his bag down. Heading to the side he dips his foot in and looks around for other occupants.

Irizati and Baloo keep watch outside I guess.

Grog, Silgil and Pietro peer into the first room. The chilled bath of the Jistka Bathhouse is in the lower level of the structure, a mixed-gender facility where the modest either soak in light robes or seek other places. The air is cool and humid and the lighting is dim. Faint lanterns reflect off the water and the sound of running water echoes off the tile floor and walls.

Grog quickly spots a figure who matches the picture of Eando.

Grog quickly spots a figure who matches the picture of Eando.

He steps over or leans down to Pietro and pokes him in the chest. He whispers "Keep quiet! There's Kline" He quietly motions to the other party members and gestures to where Kline is.

Irizati and Baloo keep watch outside I guess.

"STAAAAY. STAAAAY. DON'T EAT ANYONE."

He steps over or leans down to Pietro and pokes him in the chest. He whispers "Keep quiet!--"

Pietro positivity explodes.

"'QUIET'!? ME!? WHAT A LOAD OF B~@**~@S!"

A number of people in the bathhouse, including Kline, pointedly ignore the loud Pietro. Well, they do look to each other as if to say "He's not one of yours, is he?"

Grog does a face palm.

I wish he'd cast a silence on himself!

He tries to ignore the cleric, turns and makes his way over to Kline.

"Pietro, while we are here you should go submerge yourself for a while. You know, to clean all that sweat off."

Maybe that will shut him up for a while.

Silgil enters the water slowly, much preferring a warm bath to a cold one.

Assuming by the sound of running water that this is indeed a cold bath - otherwise he wil enter much more rapidly.

Grabbing a brush he rubs himself vigorously, not quite ready to engage in diplomacy yet. As he brushes a cloud of red hair starts spreading outward from him.

"Pietro, while we are here you should go submerge yourself for a while. You know, to clean all that sweat off."

Pietro cuckles to himself self-consciously. "Heheh... Oopsey."

"Yes, I'll go do that." he says in what for him is an absolutely mild voice.

He settles into the water of whatever pool Kline was pointed out as being in noticeably displacing the water. He purposefully avoids catching the man's eye and concentrates on scrubbing himself down. Having the wisdom to know how these things go, and that they are all likely to be ambushed in a minute or two, he uses his time to cleaning so as to make a good impression upon the foe with his morningstar if nothing else. In preparation of that inevitable eventuality, he keeps his bag within arm's reach.

Of course, mere seconds in, he begins to sing to himself (and of course everyone within earshot) the wordless Muzak™-equivalent of an operatic song whose lyrics might be "Don't look this way. I'm certainly not doing anything suspicious."

♪♫ "...DUM DEE DUM DEE DAH DUM DEE DUM DEE DEE...." ♪♫

Judging from the state of the water, you suspect that this is a bath for relaxing in, rather than cleaning off it. There are buckets outside for that. Either way, the locals move over a little to make space, considerable space, for Pietro and Silgil.

Kline sighs a little and moves over to give Grog a place to sit.

Alas, Pietro can't keep his self-imposed quasi-solitude up for long. He attempts to start a conversation.

"SAY! THIS BATHWATER IS SOME OF THE WETTEST I'VE SEEN, FROM THE STANDPOINT OF WATER THAT IS." he says seemingly to no one in particular.

Kline sighs a little and moves over to give Grog a place to sit.

Grog not known for subtlety, sets the cigar to the far side and whispers to Kline and ignores the cleric.

"I've heard like me, you know of the Sign of the Open Road. I'm looking for info on the Riftwardens. A little help would be appreciated bub."

LOL the 8 CHA ranger is the "face"

Alas, Pietro can't keep his self-imposed quasi-solitude up for long. He attempts to start a conversation.

LOL when I was single I dated a woman like that. She couldn't stop talking for more than a minute!

"I SAID: 'THIS BATHWATER IS SOME OF THE WETTEST I'VE SEEN, FROM THE STANDPOINT OF WATER.'" Pietro says again this time cupping one hand beside his mouth to focus the sound on Kline on the assumption he didn't hear what Pietro had said the first time.

LOL the 8 CHA ranger is the "face"

That's a pretty good Charisma in this party. Technically though I suppose Pietro is the face, but I feel that every PC in a game should have their chance to shine! ;) Besides, being the cleric, he's here to support.

Kline looks a little worried at Grog's words. "I'm not sure who you think I am, but you are wrong. And as for Riftwardens... that's dangerous business. I'm not sure either one of us really wants to get involved in that, frankly."

As Pietro bellows across the pool, he gets a lot of Stern Looks from the bathers. And a little more room. Kline pointedly avoids responding to him.

You hear a loud roar outside.

"HEHEH HE'S PROBABLY JUST COUGHING UP THE INEDIBLE PARTS OF THAT DIRE BOAR FROM BEFORE. I'LL GO CHECK." Pietro hauls himself out of the water grabs his beach bag and heads to the front.

The Front

"WHAT?" says a damp Pietro in his nearly obscured speedo, with his hands on his hips, to his big cats.

Kline looks a little worried at Grog's words. "I'm not sure who you think I am, but you are wrong. And as for Riftwardens... that's dangerous business. I'm not sure either one of us really wants to get involved in that, frankly."

Grog whispers to Kline. "I think you're a veteran Pathfinder like me. And we could use some help." He nods his head towards Pietro. "He might be more honey tongued than me but we could use your help. An old friend says hi."

"I don't have any old friends. Especially not among pathfinders.." grunts the man who looks like Kline. "You're making a mistake."

"I don't have any old friends. Especially not among pathfinders.." grunts the man who looks like Kline. "You're making a mistake."

"Okay bub, but Sasha Antif-Arah sends her regards—healthy and alive from Andoran." Grog looks for a reaction.

The man cracks a smile for the first time. "Ahh but then she'd not be a pathfinder anymore either, now would she? Maybe we can talk. If she is still alive that is."

Just at that point however a large man, dressed in the livery of the Pure Legionnaires steps into the room. Another can be seen behind him.

He looks around the room, and stalks over toward Grog and Silgil. As he does so, Kline edges away and starts to sink slowly into the waters, trying to avoid noice.

"You there!" says the legionnaire pointing at the shedding Silgil as an obvious outsider. "What do you know of Eando Kline?"