DM Brainiac's Stolen Fate: Table 1

Game Master Brainiac

As the blockade crumbles with ease, Pen takes a moment to marvel at the last moments of violence. The giant toss, the tag teamed shattering of the dwarf "They misjudged." she states simply "Size was not the best tactic to use against us."

Searching the fallen dwarf, you discover a steel-colored bird feather token, similar to the one owned by the tiefling who attacked you when you were rescuing Dieral in Absalom! He also has a +1 striking greatsword and +1 resilient half plate. In addition, tucked into a belt pouch is one of the Harrow card from the Deck of Destiny: The Publican!

Visna's eyebrows raise in surprise at the bird. "It seems that here we have found others who judged that the Harrow held the fate of their paths. Though if it took them to murdering pedlars and gamekeepers, then I am yet gladder that our efforts have outstripped theirs."

Sanjana gazes at the card for a long time, a sorrow in their eyes that belies the group's victory against the waylaying mercenaries. At last they speak, slowly and haltingly.

"Friends. I... I don't think that I am cut out for this life. I never wanted to harm anyone, yet in a scant few days I have been forced into violent situations again and again. I feel that I am more a liability to you than a helpful presence in these circumstances. My strength lies in knowledge and untangling the threads of Fate, but what you seem to need more are fearless hearts and stout arms."

The kashrishi turns to Briar, bowing as deeply as they are able. "My dear Briar, you have saved my life time and again, and for that I cannot ever thank you enough, or repay you as you deserve. You have my undying gratitude and I shall help you whenever you need it, however I can. But as of this moment- I release you from your bond. You have repaid your life debt many times over, and while I think in the beginning the bond was a way for you to find purpose for yourself and a measure of freedom, you now have your own pack," Sanjana gestures at Visna and Pentella, "and a purpose in protecting the Deck of Destiny from falling into the hand of those who would use it for ill."

They bow again, this time to Visna and Pen. "To you, too, I owe a debt of life, so I will not desert you or our common cause. I shall reside in the Harrowland for as long as it is needed, and research whatever I can about this mysterious deck and the forces at play. All of you live in my heart and are my dear companions."

After dealing with the giantess, and making sure she wasn't about to get back up to continue harrying them Briar turns on the dwarf as he falls to the assault of her companions. Seeing that she snarls at the other mercenaries and makes to chase them off for good, but once they show no signs of rallying to fight she huffs and turns back to rejoin her allies.

Coming down from her bristled look Briar assists Pentella and Sanjana to join her and Visna atop the barricade, feeling like there was more to deal with further up the pass. Then she notices Sanjana staring at the card for an oddly long amount of time and moves to comfort her diminutive companion.

She listens to Sanjana and the more they talk the more worry and tension seems to build in the kholo's features until the large gnoll looks like she might break into a panic attack at the drop of a pin needle. She kneels to reach a hand out to Sanjana's shoulder.
"Sanjana, I owe you not only a personal life debt, but one of my entire people and of all who may come after. I-i can't just.. th-that's not something I alone can pay back. Perhaps this just, m-maybe this just isn't what you are needed to do. When we solve the mystery of this deck we could." Briar falters for a moment thinking of what they could do.

"We... we could go see more amazing sights. More of the sky lights, more far off horizons, we can find what you were after all these years. We c-can-" Her throat begins to close up as she searches desperately for whatever words might convince Sanjana to strip away the one constant that's been present in her life for so long. The gnolls tiny eyes begin to brim with tears.
"I duh-don't know what to do. You aren't going t-to leave me after all of this is done right?"

"I would very much like to travel with you once this task is done, my dearest Briar. Of course I will not leave you." Sanjana reaches to hug their companion, patting Briar's shoulder comfortingly. "There are many places we can visit and enrich our souls and minds... and palates! To be truthful, I resent a little this duty that has been thrust upon us which drags us ever forward, with no time to appreciate the wondrous locales we find ourselves in. But perhaps after that duty is accomplished we can return to those who charmed us the most."

The kashrishi looks over to Pen, eyes twinkling. "And I hope that I will be allowed to peruse your travel journals and experience future places vicariously. Or perhaps Visna will compose a saga describing them, hm?"

Pen's heart had turned a shade colder, watching another that she cared about leave. Not turned to ash, not a pallid face looking up at her, dragging her thoughts to Hades and back, no... just leaving. Hurt is hurt no matter the degree.

Not leaving though, she is just staying safe, the wizard tells herself, but it feels like a Leaving. Pen forces a smile and steps forward, "Everything I write, every doodle, shall be yours, Sajana Nirman Niraimadhi. Forever, even after your eyes turn milky and I need to read them to you instead." the curse of the elven, to see those they love wither. It is a blessing and a curse that love does not age, just flesh.

"And we are neighbors, so we shall have tea after every outing, I promise." there is a hitch in her voice, a pained stumble over her words that she cannot describe or understand. Reaching out she grasps the Kashrishi's hand "We will miss your company on our adventures. For you are the wisest of us all."

Visna seems quite wrongfooted, needing a few moments before she can even muster, "Though my tongue is skilled in many arts, long ago have I learned that in farewells, I have no artistry, yet also rarely am I the one left upon the desolate shore."

Again she pauses, visibly composing where even her densest prose spreads and pours like thick honey. "I shall miss you, Sanjana. I shall miss your wisdom and warmth. I love the great kindness that moves you, even as my selfish heart shall hate it for your absence. Though tea would scarcely have cooled ere we share a cup again, I...

"I shall miss you."

Unable to contain herself, Briar leans forward and grabs the Kashrishi up in a big hug. She seems almost a little desperate to not let go, and makes the most of what time she can while the situation is as it is.

Finally she set's Sanjana back down and gives a shaky sigh, "Right.. well is this the only threat here or do we have more to keep pushing forward towards?"

Past the barricade, you find yourselves halfway up the Storval Stairs. The stairs cut deep into the cliff at this point, and walls tower fifty feet or more overhead on either side. A massive landing, fifty feet to a side, offers a respite from the climb. Twenty-foot-tall doorways are set into the walls—one to the north and one to the south. Bloodstains and scorch marks mar the ground and walls here, as though fights on the landing were both common and recent.

A search around the area reveals a few other points of interest. Twin statues of Runelord Karzoug flank the Storval Stairs to the north and south. There appear to be entrances to chambers at the base of each statue.

Briar looks to her companions, "I believe the North path will be best, but I could try to consult the ancestors again as I did earlier."

While she doesn't want to just move on after Sanjana took leave to the Harrowcourt, forward was the only path available at the moment.

Pen rests her hand in Briar's fur, and nods. She never had words at times like this, so nodding is best.

"Then let your bones speak, my friend," Visna offers, still subdued.

Briar nodded and knelt down pulling her pack around to dig through it, fishing out a small ceremonial bowl and a bag of knuckle bones. Looking between the northern and southern pass she formed the question in her mind. 'Do the dangers to the north prove more difficult than the threats from the southern pathway.'

"Honored ancestors, I worry that perhaps I ask of you too much this day, but your guidance has proven worthy of adoration and as such I would make one last request of you this day."

With mind resolute she cast the bones into the bowl and waited with baited breath for them to speak their ancient calcified wisdom.

The bones reveal their answer to Briar: "nothing." It would seem neither weal nor woe awaits beyond the northern door.

Briar sits silently after the clacking bones stop, staring intently at them for several empty minutes trying to weed out any possibility from their meaning. Finally she shakes her head and starts to gather them up back into their pouch.

"Either the anscestors remain silent or both paths are equally perilous. So I believe we should take the northern road to stick with our 'upward' ascent."

After gathering her things she makes ready to journey through the northern pass unless anyone has objections.

The doors open into a chamber set inside the mountain pass. Passages lead east and west from this central corridor to large rooms containing several bunks. The beds appear to be recently slept-in. The central area is entirely empty of furnishings.

Four mercenaries are resting in the beds. They seem groggy and disoriented, and they don't immediately register you as threats.

You can try to forestall combat here with a successful Deception, Diplomacy, or Intimidation check.

A resentful sorrow still bubbles within Visna's heart, whetting her tongue so that her words slice through the air as sharp as her tight-gripped Smile.

"Mercy you have been given this day. You may cast it or your arms aside. Choose as you will, yet still shll your departure be nigh."

Intimidate: 1d20 + 24 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 24 + 1 = 42

Pen, holding her staff firmly in her gloved hands, looks around Visna's shoulder and interrupts for the rather intimidating warrior "Please run." she leaves off the 'or you will be broken' since she is pretty sure no one missed that part.

Briar let's her stature and blood covered jaws speak for her, the others seeming to have the discussion part of the situation well in hand.

Just rolling here, to see my Formula known by level (1 to 13): 13d4 ⇒ (2, 1, 1, 4, 4, 4, 2, 3, 3, 2, 2, 4, 4) = 36

Your calm but intimidating threats instill terror into the hearts of the mercenaries! They exchange glances before cautiously making their way to the exit, whereupon they flee as fast as they can!

As you look around the room, you notice a small corner of the area has been made into a makeshift prison cell. Within languishes a gnome woman with wild, mutli-colored hair...

Briar watches as the mercenaries take their leave, they made the smart choice of taking their lives over payment and death. She strides over to the cell area and looks at the gnome.

"Looks like it's your lucky day."

She grips the shoddy wooden construction and easily breaks the bars into splinters. "I'd head down the pass, there's a friendly camp so long as you don't draw weapons on them."

Pen has a moment of disbelief at the mercanries leaving "they never listen." she says in wonder. Her fingers itch to record the exact moment of the aberration, but there is a prisoner.

She reaches in her pouch for her picks, only to put them back once Briar shatters the wood with ease. "Do you have a place we can take you?" the elven wizard asks with concern.

At 3’ tall with a skinny, androgynous build, Clara is slight even by gnomish standards. Her eyes are the color of maple syrup flecked with pine, and her hair is a wild mix of purple, pink, magenta, and crimson, with wispy cyan highlights.

When the burly gnoll shatters her wooden prison, Clara gives a small Yelp!, before she realizes she’s being set free...at which point she breaks into a relieved grin.

"Looks like it's your lucky day."

Dusting splinters off of her apron (which is covered in many intriguing stains), the little gnome nods vigorously. ”Lucky, indeed! And praise the Grey Polychrome, I don’t know how much longer I could’ve stood it. Those mercenaries were utter boars. Boring bores, with utterly boring utterances. And a complete lack of appreciation for fizzy pop.” Clara shudders.

”And Hats was terrified! Weren’t you, Hats? It’s safe now.” From inside her sleeve, a squirrel pokes out a head wearing a vexed expression...and velvety red fez with a plume of white feathers.

"Do you have a place we can take you?" the elven wizard asks with concern.

Shaking her head no, Clara says, ”Fortunately, my trip was a success. I came in search of a rare lunar columbine that only grows here on the Storval Plateau, and blooms for a very short window each year. For the first few days I was stumped and worries I might not find any, but then I found a mossy rock outcropping on the edge of a circle of scrub pine, and I realized–”

Hats begins to chitter animatedly, pointing at Clara and the newcomers.

”Hrrrm,” Clara responds, ”I suppose you’re right, Hats. Introductions probably are in order. I’m Clarabibulus Flingflopsparkfizz, the great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter of none other than Umbilicus Flingflopsparkfizz, famed across the land as the creator of the Ultimate Fizzy Drink, a beverage like none other. And since the recipe was tragically lost in the brutal tarrasque rampage of -632 AR, I’ve decided to do what all others have failed at: to travel the world in search of ingredients and reagents that great-granddaddy Umbilicus might’ve used, so I can recreate the recipe at last.

“I hope to finally settle the old family argument as to whether the ultimate fizzy drink was best enjoyed as a beverage or thrown at one's foes. For now, all everyone agrees is that it was zesty, uplifting, and very very fizzy.”

Clara notices Hats’ side eye, and finally pauses. ”No need to rush me, Hats. I was already just about to ask if the nice adventurers wanted a fizzy drink. It’s the least I can do–and it happens I’ve got a new batch of green-apple-sassifrass-drake’s-blood fizzypop over in that chest there...if those ruffians didn’t spill it. You should’ve seen how they treated my sodapops, when they dumped my things in there!”

Clara goes to open the chest in the corner, and pulls out three bottles. ”I also have lavender-vanilla-cream, and honey-treant-sap-surprise, if you prefer.”

There is too much information packed in such a short time that Pen has to pull her latest journal out to take notes and make simple sketches. As some of the famous drink is offered, she considers the question of which with great care and ultimately accepts the original with a thank you.

Then sips.

The tartness strikes her, the fizz tickles, the drakes blood provides a rich burn. "Oh" the wizard says with a myriad of tones. Then realizes that is not enough "It is good, thank you."

Scratching her chin only to find it still wet with the blood of the giant Briar waves a hand.

"I will have to decline. I have no knowledge of whoever this Flibbleflapsparkpop, nor what a sodapops is. But I can't imagine it's good for you by the name alone. I'm also unsure if we have the time to escort you back down the pass as of this moment."

She moves to the bed chambers and grabs the cleanest looking blanket and begins to wipe her face off returning when it was mostly clean. "You've never by chance been in the heart of M'wangi though have you, your particular hair coloration would stand out enough to look like a poisonous creature. Which sounds oddly familiar to a tale one of the scouts told when I was a pup, about an unknown creature she'd caught glimpse of."

Clara's eyes suddenly go wide. "Waaaaaait a minute! Hmmm, it was twenty-some years ago but I remember a kholo pup with just that stripe that pattern above her right eye. Could it be?? Oh my gosh, Briarthorn, right?? You've gotten sooo big!

“Gosh, I never saw her again, but I don’t rightly know what I’d have done without her help. And you! She said it’d taken forever to get you to finally settle down, and made me promise to whisper so I wouldn’t wake you. Now that you’re awake though, it’s a pleasure to meet you! How is your mother, nowadays? I told her at the time that I likely owed her my life, and that I'd aid her if I ever could.”

Visna delights. "Ha! Then your rescue merely continues the good work of your mother, Briar."

With a half step back to get more comfortable eye contact. "Well then Clarabibulus, sparkling in speech and in purpose, clearly you know of the good works hwaet Briar performs and is heir to. As for myself, I am Visna, daughter of Freydis, breaker of tyrants' vambraces, taster of far-flung seas, and sure of stroke with the oar of poetry. Now long have I known of the charms to be found within the pure lakes of horns," she taps the drinking horn at her side, "but to row my tongue from pure lake to roiling rush is a delight from which I would not fain abstain."

"The treant if you would be so kind."

After another sip, Pen covers her mouth to contain an unexpected expelling of gas. "Excuse me. I am Pentella Cole. I'm a wizard." she offers succinctly.

Clara happily hands Pentella a green-apple-sassifrass-drake’s-blood fizzypop, and a honey-treant-sap-surprise to Pentella.

The gnomish sodamaker beams with delight when Pen shows her (muted) enthusiasm.

Meanwhile (as they continue to chat) she starts to unload her belongings from the chest. First comes out a haversack that she pulls the fizzy drinks from, and some clockwork goggles that she puts on. Then a surprisingly bat-like cloak, some runed bracers, and a ring.

Finally, she says, "C'mon, Baabaa. You too," and a pony-sized clockwork goat leaps out of the chest.

Turning to her rescuers, she says "This is Baabaa Yagoat. I built her myself," and Clara reaches to 'scratch' behind the mechanical goat's ear. As she does, she startles herself. pulling out a Harrow card she doesn't remember sticking there.

"Huh. Weird thing to find randomly, righrt?" she asks, holding up The Liar.

Correction:

... Clara happily hands Pentella a green-apple-sassifrass-drake’s-blood fizzypop, and a honey-treant-sap-surprise to Visna...

Visna's mouth thins and she makes a sign of aversion at the clockwork goat's name, but her grim vigilance turns quickly to a rueful smile when she sees The Liar.

"Less of an oddity than you may have believed. This deck from which your card was dealt is at the heart of many prodigies and tragedies. We have been searching out its contents, but the brigands who have held you captive have been doing the same through terror, butchery, and diabolism. We will not take that card or its powers from you, but I must warn you that your journeys and experiments will scarce be untroubled while still you bear it."

A minor thesis is being written about the odds of this chance meeting between two people who shared a fleeting moment, unknown even to one of them, so far away. Probability is Pen's fever dream.

But at the reveal of the card, Pen's head rises from her note taking, with the tiniest of frowns on her lips

"We do need to gather all the cards." she counters the warrior a little reluctantly, then focuses on the gnome "We could help you with a task, or trade something to you for it?" everything about her suggestions and tone suggests she agrees with Visna, that they will not take it from her. She feels the tug of another option, based on the deviation of previous encountes. But she resists mentioning it.

Having been completely caught off-guard Briar stands in stunned silence at the Gnome's claims, her hand quivers a little but she slowly recovers.

"I do not know, I haven't seen my mother in almost a decade." Clearing her throat she tries to move the conversation away from tender subjects. I suppose at the time I would not have been fully named, but if you do know my grown name, it seems you've heard of my exploits abroad at least to some extent."

Finishing with the blanket she tosses it casually to the side and rolls her neck, "The last time we met others with these cards they've either been enemies or the allies you see here. Or in some cases the ones who are destined to hold them until our arrival." Giving a knowing look at Pen she adds, "But if it was not in your belongings beforehand I believe that may very well settle you into the category of one destined to bring them together. As they did us."

"I do not know, I haven't seen my mother in almost a decade." Clearing her throat she tries to move the conversation away from tender subjects. I suppose at the time I would not have been fully named, but if you do know my grown name, it seems you've heard of my exploits abroad at least to some extent."

Clara nods. "I don't know anything about your mother beyond that one encounter, but in that moment she showed me kindness. I dare say I see the same in you."

Finishing with the blanket she tosses it casually to the side and rolls her neck, "The last time we met others with these cards they've either been enemies or the allies you see here. Or in some cases the ones who are destined to hold them until our arrival." Giving a knowing look at Pen she adds, "But if it was not in your belongings beforehand I believe that may very well settle you into the category of one destined to bring them together. As they did us."

With a giggle, Clara replies, "Well, I'd certainly hate to end up one of your enemies. That doesn't sound pleasant or interesting." She flicks the card expertly toward Pentella, aiming for it to land right on the open page of her notebook.

Toss Card: 1d20 + 23 ⇒ (19) + 23 = 42

"I'm more of a fizzician than a warrior...though some of my fizzy drinks can be fearsome enough if I shake them up and throw'm at people. I'm not looking for trouble though. I came to the Steppes in search of lunar columbine, which only blooms for a few days each year, and I'd just found some to harvest before I got waylaid. Clara holds it up for anyone interested to appreciate the ethereal scent.

"I'll be trying it in some fizzypop recipes now, just to see what it does...but I'm afraid I've come to the end of the last clue in what's left of Great-Granddaddy's notes, such as they are." She reaches into her haversack and pulls out a roll of very badly burnt and shredded papers. "Not much left after the tarrasque got done with them. I've had OK luck though, trusting the Grey Polychrome to present the next clue when the last one's spent...so maybe that's you? Are yall headed anywhere interesting? Grandpapa Umbilicus traveled all over Golarion, and even to other planes. It's tough knowing where to look...but also a good excuse to check out some pretty interesting places.

"Pentella, for that trade you talk about: maybe I travel with you three a bit, at least 'til I find my next big lead. While we're together, I can share my fizzy drinks, and maybe I'll be less likely to get caught unawares by brigands if I'm with you. Oh, and while we walk, howabout you all tell me why you all care so much about these cards? I love a good tale."

Turning to Hats, she adds, "Though, not to point any fingers, wasn't it your turn to be on watch when they captured us?...What? What do you mean it was my turn?" The annoyed squirrel huffs back inside Clara's sleeve, and the gnomish fizzician shrugs and smiles sheepishly at her new acquaintances.

There is a small start of surprise as the card lands in her book, making her slide her pencil just a touch too much, disrupting the line of her letter. Note taking should be later, she tells herself, gives the gnome a brief smile, then closes her book, with the card, and listens.

Pen is not the most leader-ry of the group so instead of answering Clarabibulus's request, she looks to her companions. As she does so, a wiggling starts in the collected fabric of her cloak at the back of her neck. A slim blue elongated nose hesitantly inspects the air, before a small but plump head follows, blinking as it looks on at the new people.

"Then let us away!" Visna takes a mighty swig of the treant-sap concoction, and begins to narrate. "Hwaet our saga began with the appearance of a prodigy, brimming with power and purpose..."

"Oh! Clara exclaims, as she's pulling her things together. "If there might be more unsavory types about, I should take the time to make some more fizzy drinks before we go."

She pulls an improbably large lab out of her backpack, and starts merrily mixing ingredients, resulting in impressive flashes of colored smoke and popping sounds.

"...Don't let me stop you though. I can listen while I work. Speaking of which...do you know anything about what kind of trouble we might be looking at?"

I need an hour (assuming we're uninterrupted) to prepare infusions. If the party knows/guesses anything about weaknesses/immunities/general needs, I'll take it!

Once Clara has had time to prepare her alchemical arsenal, you press on deeper into the northern complex. The central chamber rises fifty feet to a cathedral ceiling. Two other doorways provide exits from the room—one to the east and the other to the west. The door to the east is slightly ajar. The once-grand carvings decorating the walls of this room are blackened with thick layers of soot, and the worked stone tiles of the floor are chipped and covered with various carts, boxes, and barrels. All sorts of other loose trade goods lie haphazardly on the floor.

Leaning over to sweep some of the soot off the walls with her finger, Briar does the odd thing and gives it a taste to attempt to see if the taste or scent would help her determine exactly what burned to cause the layering.

"Can't be good if there are goods spilled out. Don't suppose these are just remnents of your old friends Clara?"

Visna lightly kicks over some of the debris, musing.

"The Steel-Winged birds have not long alit here if this is how they keep their nest. Else they have played the cuckoo and destroyed the efforts of other brigands, trusting in fate to draw other cards hither."

Squatting down on her haunches, she fingers a talisman of black and white upon her belt and looks more closely.

Casting Heroism and Seeking

Pen nods, looking around quietly for traps and hidden holes, as well as spending time studying the carvings on the walls. "Why the soot though? Frequent campfires, or something more?" she wonders aloud, nothing that Briar is already treading down that path of inquiry, and in such an interesting fashion "Does the taste of soot carry the favor of what was burned?" the idea is new to her, having never thought to try it.

As Visna starts kicking over the debris, the door to the west opens and a tall, slender man wearing spectacles peeks out. "Excuse me," he says politely, "but what exactly do you think you are doing?"

Briar looks to Pen, "Usually just the smell, but the taste can help enhance the smell even though most would probably say it all tastes like ash, there are certain notes that only reveal themselves when wet again."

Then the new man shows up and she holds out a hand defensively towards Pen and Clara.

Visna casts her eye skeptically at the man in spectacles.

"Murderers and brigands hold the stairs against those who have long dwelt in this place. If you have been held by them as our new friend was, then you are freed. If you are among their number then you are in peril."

Pen moves away from the walls, toward her companions, grasping her magical staff firmly in both hands, ready to counterspell if needed. Spectacles often meant magical powers, usually a wizard, which she realizes is a stereotype and should feel bad, as she has before, but being cautious keeps them alive.

A stray thought does tickle her mind, wondering if maybe she should buy a pair of glasses, just so people were aware of what she was. The staff might be enough of a hint though... hmm... maybe a pointy hat?

"Oh, I do hope the other mercenaries weren't being too much of a bother," the man says pleasantly. "I am a member of the Band of Blades, yes, but I am merely their accountant! Ndede, at your service." He gives a little bow.

"It is my task to sort and itemize the treasures in this room. A tedious process, to be sure. So, tlel me, what has brought you to this place? You seem far too heavily armed to be mere travelers."

Briar frowns catching something off in the air, " My companion just told you we are here to liberate it from those who hold no right to this place."

perception: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (11) + 20 = 31
Her mind wanders slightly trying to place the smell of the man before them. Knowing good and well the various forces that have attempted to stop them in their journey so far.

"I think it best you reveal your true nature accountant. You reek like rafflesia, a scent reserved for things already long past."

"Ah, well, she didn't specifically say those words, as such," Ndede says. "The authority to decide if our group stays here or leaves lies with our leader, a woman named Arodeth. You will find her in the complex to the south, on the opposite side of the stairs' landing. Perhaps you can persuade her to see things from your point of view."

He looks askance at Briar. "True nature? I know not what you mean, friend."