These Pathfinders will be legends!

Game Master noral

Sabah settles in to her seat near Malluma, pulling a pack of playing cards and a small keg of applejack from her pack she pours her self a cup before offering some to the others.

She shuffles the deck and leaves a message on the table.

"anyone for a game of 21? I have a feeling our wayward captain might be a while."

She does a quick riffle shuffle and passes the deck to Abdi for a cut.

After about ten minutes Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin's enters the room. He looks at you with a keen interest.

"Your recent investigations and recovery of agent Eylysia’s papers have already yielded results. Under my direction, a team of scholars has tracked down the long-retired Society ciphers the gnome used and translated many of her entries. Although many of these records present valuable leads, one is especially timely and exciting.

Until then I wish you all the best on your future missions!"

END OF SCENARIO.

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NEW ADVENTURE

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It's been three days since you left Absalom. Sailing northwest and following along the coast Aboard the Pixie. The letter in you bag leaving little detail about your mission.

There is a firm knocking at the door to the bunk room. Half orc Venture-captain Calisro Benarry leans in the door.

"Its time for our meeting. Come up to my cabin i'll be along shortly."

Zamin complies. Suddenly, a massive humanoid half-breed that resembles a boar-like lycanthrope appears in the cabin.

His skin is covered with grey fur and he has two boar tusks protruding from his mouth!

It is clear that the more bestial aspects of his animalistic ancestors dominate his appearance.

This humanoid exhibits sharp teeth and although he is wearing a breastplate armor, and has a morningstar at his side, it is clear that his feet are more bestial than human and resemble hooves.

~ ~

Zamin is pleased that he finally made it to the mission ... finally some action.

"I am early?! Anything to smash already?!” he says and looks around.

A completely unremarkable young halfling woman greets him solemnly from her spot leaning against a wall in a corner. "Hello. Looks like we
beat her here. There's nothing to smash yet, though I hear there are some nuts that need shelling down in the galley. When we're finished, you could offer your help if there's time. I'm Jussa, by the way."

She doesn't seem perturbed by Zamin's appearance anymore, though she did a double-take the first time she saw him. The Society takes all decent, capable sorts of people, she had told herself then, over and over until she accepted the truth of that statement.

A closer look at Jussa reveals basic leather armor and some sundry light weapons, with a sap being placed in the most easily accessible spot.

Zamin smiles.

“I am Zamin! So what do you do Jussa?!“

Malluma smiles at Zamin, nodding. "Ah, I think we will get along. I was also sent to keep the more delicate folks safe." She turns to wink at Jussa, meaning no offense. "Malluma Seme. You'll find my snake companion below deck. Glad to have you on the team."

Zamin scratches his facial hair.

“Ehh … keep safe? Malluma? Nobody said something about keeping safe. I’m here to smash … Malluma smashes and … and keeps safe? Two things together… tough!!“ he says a little confused.

A well-dressed elf stands nearby, his skin rather pale. His dark hair flows just past his shoulders to his mid-back. All of his facial hair is well-kept, and you imagine it must be trimmed nearly daily. He has sharp features that suggest sternness, yet he keeps a pleasant, cordial expression. His dark eyes however, seem to be looking through you whenever he faces you to speak or listen.

His artisan's clothing is very practical, but he wears it cleanly. A spotless white shirt with ruffled edges and loose-fitting tan breeches. Overall, you get the feeling that he does't like to get dirty often.

He's taken aback at first by the appearance of the newcomer, but following Jussa's lead he gets over it.

Greetings. I'm Darzus. Welcome to our little crew. We're not the most conventional bunch, so perhaps you'll fit right in!

A young, Varisian man enters the room with an easy, friendly smile upon his lips that reaches his violet hued eyes; his wavy chestnut hair hangs down to his stubbled jaw. His clothing is simple, travel-worn of fairly neutral hues save for the brightly colored scarf draped around his neck and shoulders. Across his chest lay a well-made leather bandolier with several different items strapped to or hanging from it. Beneath it all, the glimmer of a bright silver chainshirt can be seen. He carries no visible weapons upon him, save a dagger sheathed to his bandolier. Upon seeing all the others presently gathered he claps his hands together with a chagrined smile and laughs. "It would seem I am the last to join the gathering! I apologize if I have kept you waiting, my friends!" He immediately begins moving from person to person, offering his hand to shake. "Falshin Korvaska, at your service!"

The Skinwalker looks at the two new members and grunts.

"Yeah, hi! I am Zamin!"

Muscular and imposing in a green-dyed longcoat, tunic, and
puffed trousers, the half-orc Venture-Captain Calisro Benarry
kicks out a chair for herself from under the massive oak table at
the center of her well-furnished cabin and sits down. “Welcome
to the Pixie, Pathfinders. Enjoy your tour while it lasts, ‘cause by
Sunday night you’ll be off the boat.
“We’re a day’s sail from a rendezvous with a Pezzacki whaler,
the Patience, which has permits to cross the Chelish blockade to
fish. That town’s been locked down since the people upended
the empire’s government five years ago, and those permits are
hard to come by. We’d teleport you into Pezzack if the damned
devilfolk didn’t have the place blanketed with spies, so instead
we’ll throw you into the hold with the Patience’s catch. Which is
good for you, trust me, because nobody in that town smells any
better than you will.”
Calisro leans forward, and whispers gruffly, “You’ll be
dropped off to my contact at the Academy of Applied Magic,
professor Kalizandrex Poppo. He’ll help you track down a
trapped Pathfinder named Olandil, who’s been stuck there for five years—your job’s to get him out. Be careful who you talk to, though, and how you ask questions. That place is more volatile
than Gorum on a bender, and the more you poke around, the
more likely you’ll be the next to burn it down.”
The venture captain pulls a sheaf of nautical charts out of a
case at her hip and unfurls them on the table. “As for getting you out of the town, I know a thing or two about the sailing
patterns of the ships around here. The Pixie can pick around
the coast north of here for a week before Abrogail’s folk come
asking questions.” The venture-captain smirks as she continues,
“In case you hadn’t noticed, the Pixie, well, she looks an awful
lot like a pirate vessel, and the Chelish navy doesn’t exactly
welcome pirates with open arms. You’d better get back here by then. Any questions?”

Oh my. Sending in six to get out one. Why has Olandil not been able to escape in such a long time? Resourceful Pathfinders usually can't be contained that long.

"Five years, so was he involved in the rebellion?" Malluma looks forward to her time off the boat. "I appreciate the discretion, sometimes these missions can get messy. Do you have any recommendations on who to talk to?"

Zamin Looks at the ship.

“Ehh … how do we get back to this ship! They all here don’t look like good swimmers!!“ he asks.

“And who’s our enemy!! Who to smash!!???“

"Its been five years since we last had contact with Olandil. Chances are he chose to stay, gods knows why anyone would want to do that. He’s also an old friend of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng, and when Dreng wants someone smuggled out of a blockade, I don’t argue." The venture captain shifts slightly in their chair. "As far as contacts go Professor Poppo will have more for you when you arrive, and try to stay out of trouble. If you ignite a rebellion the chelish navy will raise the town to the ground with everyone in it."

Zamin Looks at the ship.

“Ehh … how do we get back to this ship! They all here don’t look like good swimmers!!“ he asks.

“And who’s our enemy!! Who to smash!!???“

“Find out which whaler’s going out next and do what you can to get on it.”

Very well. What does Professor Poppo look like? Darzus asks, otherwise ready to be off.

Falshin listens quietly, nodding here and there as the Venture-Captain details their mission. "It's a good thing I am skilled at getting in and out of places quietly then. Unfortunately, Zamin, I am not so sure you will be doing a lot of smashing, unless we need a distraction."

"I haven't met the professor in person. Though I have heard he has a blue beard, chances are that will be easy enough to spot."
Benarry stands and takes the scrap of parchment from the table.
"now before we pass you off to the whalers, you should have time to provision yourself with my quartermaster. they don't take gold in pezzack, so you may want to bring some items to trade with the locals."

Darzus purchases a +1 protean cloak (and tunes it to fortitude), an antiplague, an antitoxin, and caltrops.

That is all!

Malluma buys an antitoxin, some vermin repellant, and alchemist's fire for trade. "No gold, interesting... This will be quite the delicate and foreign situation I think."

(Feel free to grab what provisions you need while I get started.)

Sunday night arrives, it isnt long before you see the Patience on the Horizon. The new moon and clouds keep the pre-dawn sky dark as the Pixie sidles up to the Patience. The ragged whalers silently pull person after person from their hold of scant fish—emaciated
elderly people, several haggard-looking young men and
women, and even a trio of children—each of them looking
like they’ve gone years without rest as they listlessly cross the
plank joining the ships. Venture Captain Benarry welcomes
the refugees in a booming voice, and her crew sets to work
bringing provisions to the newcomers. The Patience’s crew
lacks their ship’s namesake as they hurriedly wave over the
refugee’s replacements.

After an hour of sitting in a the cramped smelly hold. The Patience docks and begins to unload. Before long a net crane scoops the fish and party from the hold into the back of a large wagon. Which rumbles down the broken cobbled streets for a little over half an hour. Once the wagon comes to a stop, a trap door at the bottom of the wagon opens up, dumping you down a chute into a dimly lit cellar. The chute cover closes and you hear the wagon rumble away.

A door at the far end of the cellar slams open and a stout bald gnome in academic robes hurrys into the room. “Split me like Nethys’s eyebrow! I’m genuinely surprised the Passfinders sent people! Sorry for the lack of a good cover story—
didn’t have room in the notes—didn’t expect a response—and
sorry for the fish guts and the bumpy roads and—oh, sorry for
everything. If we had a little more time…” The gnome guides you down the hallway and down a a set of stairs to a set of cramped quarters, inside is a few make shift beds and a washing tub with fresh but stale water. “Right! You’re here for Olandil. It’s… it’s complicated.
He’s, well, he’s not himself lately. He’s four selves. Since your little Pathfinder Society left him behind, he’s had to make do—
improvise—take on new names and jobs waiting for rescue.
“When I first met him, he went by Jax Telandril and needed
me to enhance some goggles of disguise for some work in
Docktown. He kept asking questions about Fat Harbor and the
town’s magic item economy. A year later he came in needing me
to add some disguise charms to an eye patch; I asked him why,
and he spilled it all—so tired of keeping secrets—he was also
Jacks Falger! The one-eyed Galtan spy! “He kept coming back over the years. He came in one day as
Jaks Arunai, some hot-shot White Thistles poet. Last week, he
comes in looking awful, and said he was a Passfinder named Olandil, and I just… I couldn’t process it! Four people! One person!” Poppo gesticulates madly, alternating between raising four fingers and one finger to emphasize his point. “I told him my own secret—I had been teaching a Passfinder vantage-captain
as a correspondence student—and he told me to send her a
message saying he wanted out of Pezzack. As though that’s
even possible! But I sent it, and he thanked me, he left, and I
haven’t seen him since.
“Night before last, I had Loyalists—” Poppo smothers the
word with disdain, and doubles up on his disgust as he repeats
it. “—Loyalists in my office, telling me to stop doing business
with Olandil, following me everywhere except the Guts
because I bet they don’t like to get their boots dirty.
They knew who Olandil really is, too! And they’ve been outside the Academy since, watching, waiting. They don’t know about my ladder to
the Guts, but they’ll find out eventually.”

Zamin grunts at the gnome.

"You are cute. Ehhh ... so why can't I just smash the Loyalists?!?" he asks and slams one fist into the other furred hand.

Darzus smiles warmly as the refugees come over, but these feelings soon end when they board the Patience. He is constantly grunting and sighing about the conditions of their travel and what the fish refuse is doing to his clothes.

When Poppo leads them away from the Guts and he spies the washing tub, he eyes it longingly... He looks back at Poppo expectantly, waiting to be offered a turn in it.

Where does one wash clothes down here?

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Darzus winces at the suggestion from Zamin. I think we're going to have to be more subtle than that. I could try to put them to sleep. But do we even know that Olandil is at the academy? Maybe we should blend in around town and see who knows what.

He turns to ask Poppo directly Are there others friendly to him and the Pathfinder Society in around?

Poppo stops for a moment and walks to a closet at the far end of the room and produces Academy robes close enough to suitable for each of your size. "A disguise will go a long way in keeping us all out of trouble and don't get any ideas about putting down any Loyalists. The chelish navy will raise the city to the ground or we will all be strix food." Poppo approaches a small table near the center of the room and places a map on it."I haven't seen Olandil in a day or two. If you want to find him, I know a few good places to ask around. He is wearing to many hats these days after all. poppo points to a few places on the map.

Gold Street (area A2): “The thieves’ guild operates
out of here. Lots of information if you can buy it. You
didn’t bring money with you, did you? Nobody takes
money here. Maybe the Loyalists, but still, nobody worth
spending it on.”
The Inkwell (area A3): “Literati hangout. Lots of rebels,
lots of fights. Someone who knows Jaks the poet, the one
in the White Thistles, will be there, I’m sure of it.
The Throne Defiant (area A4): “Loyalist inn. If you
want to get to the bottom of Olandil’s connection with
the Loyalists, you can try there.”
Auntie’s (area A5): “Big tavern in Docktown, and a good
place for gossip. You can try asking about Jax Telandil
around there—he’s the Docktown Jax—but mind who
you talk to if you don’t want to spread rumors.”
Madge’s Noodle Cart (area A6): “Madge doesn’t know
anything except noodles, but she knows noodles! You
have to try them.”

"there are a few places you might want to avoid unless you have death wish. The Govenors manse is the seat of loyalist power in Pezzack, the tenements its a war zone, and shorewall since the galtans won't let you in anyway. Also it's best to stay out of whalers point unless you want the Loyalists to sniff out our plan. Any questions?"

Darzus thinks over the options, frowning as he asks

Hmm... will the Loyalist Inn be dangerous similar to their other haunts that you suggested we avoid?

"I'm sure you can't get into too much trouble just asking questions, provided you stay polite."

Hi GM, did you already put the maps you are referring to into the slides which are linked at the top of the page? Or what are the references of A2 etc. in your post? :-)

Hi GM, did you already put the maps you are referring to into the slides which are linked at the top of the page? Or what are the references of A2 etc. in your post? :-)

Sorry posted to the discord page, I'll try to get it uploaded to the slides here today.

"Hmmmm... another reminder to be discrete. It seems violence isn't always the answer after all." The nagaji eyes Zamin with a small amount of worry. "That's alright, it is for situations like this that the queen demanded we study. The Loyalist's Inn might be the first place to start, so we can understand what we are up against." She smiles brutally. "Surely we can pretend for a little while."

alright map is officially up. Also if you guys are ready to move on you can go out the front door or use the guts.

Zamin grunts and slowly transforms into his human form.

"Malluma and Darzus, I follow you! Just tell me when to smash! So who will put the wig on my head?" he says with a disgusted look on his face.

Jussa had been quiet for a long time. Seeing the refugees...it hit her hard, in the gut, to witness how thoroughly the life had been sucked out of them. During the transport it was easy enough to withdraw into herself, brooding on the implications and possibilities. Now, however, is the time for action. Shaking herself slightly, she takes a deep breath and volunteers: "I will, Zamin, if you bend down so I can reach."

As she's fussing with his wig, she whispers to him: "Hold off on the smashing for now, but I get the feeling the odds are slim that we'll be able to get out of here without a fight of some sort. Just keep your eyes open." Out loud she adds: "We'll need an official look-out when we're talking to people. What do you think, Zamin? Can you watch our backs and notice who's observing us?" Maybe if he has an important job he won't smash when we don't want him to. We're going have to manage that energy, but as Dad always said: "All energy is useful if properly directed."

Zamin endures the treatment.

“Jussa has many talents!! But I don’t like the mission!! Where’s the dungeon to just smash some zombies?!?“ he sighs with a desperate looks while watching the the group prepare.

Malluma nods. "Aye, dungeons are more exciting. But in my limited mission experience, dungeons tend to pop up." She looks around and thinks. "Maybe we should head out through the guts, so we don't draw any trouble to Poppo."

"Good thinking. Keeping him free of suspicion should be one of our top priorities. As will figuring out how to ask questions without letting anyone know that we're new in town."

Poppo removes his spectacles and rubs them on his robe before returning them to his face and squinting up at Zamin."which face is your real one I wonder? That is a very impressive trick I must say." he turns to the rest of the group before continuing. "I can lead you through the Guts and out to the street if you would like. After that your discretion is much appreciated, you may of course return here to rest as needed. If you have more questions about any of the factions or places in town I will be here if need arises." he ventures to the far a
Wall with a small recessed stove. With a swift motion he pushes the hearth stone aside revealing a tunnel leading down into the ratway of the guts.

"Let's walk and talk. We need to know about the factions and places in town, or we'll be pegged for outsiders immediately." Jussa suggests.

Zamin just grunts.

"That is no trick. Just me. Both me. You are you. Just you. You know ... " the skinwalker says while shaking his head and walking.

Falshin chuckles at Zamin's simple explanation of his abilities, but it worked. "I can think of a few people who would be very jealous of such abilities, Zamin." He nods to Jussa as the begin to hurry along. "I am pretty well acquainted with getting folks to like me, but telling falsehoods has definitely not been something I'm talented at. I do hope one of you has that particular talent."

Malluma walks alongside, asking occasional questions about the factions and their influence on the politics of the city. "The Inkwell, is that location heavily monitored by the Loyalists?"

Darzus fidgets a bit at Falshin's mention of the skill of telling lies.

I... might be reasonably decent at that. I can keep a straight face and be convincing.

Falshin notices Darzus' discomfort in his declaration and walks over to the elven man, clapping him on the shoulder in a form of Varisian closeness. "My friend, we all have our talents. Do not be ashamed of yours! In our line of work, I find our kind must often rely on prevarications to avoid trouble. There are times when I regret my 'honest face' as some have called it." He smiles.

"Yeah. We'll need that here. And the rest of us honest types can just smile and nod and say you know what you're talking about. Because that much is true." Jussa gives Darzus a warm smile.

The elf smiles sheepishly, some of his confidence returning.

As the team drops down the hatch into the Guts. They are greeted with the smell of mild sewage and sea water. Poppo lights a lantern revealing stonework tunnels running in four seperate directions. a small gutter runs along the edge of the tunnel guiding waste and detritus out to the sea. Poppo begins walking and taking turns every few intersections. The waves of the shore can be heard getting louder and the soft scurrying of vermin becomes less prominent. As you round a third intersection he begins speaking.

" we have four major faction looking to seize power in pezzack. Currently the loyalist hold a sort of proxy control over the town, they are loyal to the chelish crown and would love nothing less then full control of their chelish masters to take seed here. Second we have the Galtans, Violent revolutionaries fronted by the grey gardener Habar Curl, Pezzack’s pack of Galtan rebels want the town’s freedom to spring from the blood of dead
Loyalists—and anyone who might be aligned with them. Third we have the the Docktown merchants, Representing the stranded merchants in fat Harbor, the tiefling “mayor” Bruck wants economic dominance over Pezzack, they are smugglers and sow general unrest since it suits their business. Lastly we have the white thistles, These idealists led by Amalia Wraxton
want a unified, free Pezzack and hope to win over the
other factions’ hearts and minds through verse and acts
of derring-do. The balance of power is tenuous to say the least. One wrong move could ignite the powder keg. I'm not sure exactly what Olandil is playing at, but the sooner you can reach him the better."

Poppo rounds another corner and you are greeted by soft morning light from a squat tunnel leading out under the docks.

"Well, we're near the docks, which sounds like it's kinda near Auntie's? Is that right? If so, we might as well start there. Gossip can be useful."

Malluma nods. "It can be, though I'll admit I'm not so well versed in seeking it out. I'll let you take the lead. Let's start at Aunties."