[PFS2] 1-13 Devil At The Crossroads (GM Watery Soup, Table 2) (Inactive)

Game Master Watery Soup

Please dot (add a post) in here and then delete your post to add yourself to this campaign.

1) I am based in Southeast Asia (UTC +8) so my posting hours may be unusual (especially for those in North America). I usually update at least one or twice per day. Just to keep the game moving, please post at least once every day and at least once during the weekend.

2) Please label all three of your actions. Even if you think what you are doing is obvious.

3) If I am unavailable for longer than 24 hours, I will let you know in the Discussion Tab. Out of respect for your fellow players and myself, I ask that you do the same. Real life happens, and real life will always take priority over the game, but out of fairness for your fellow players, please let us know if you will be unavailable for an extended period of time.

4) Please note that on the following days, my posting can get unpredictable:
Tuesday/Thursdays - all day, as they are the 2 busiest days of my work week

4) Please complete the Macros and the Slides linked at the top of the page.

5) Questions, concerns? Feel free to share them in the Discussion tab.

6) Let's have some fun and tell a great story together! After all, that's what we are here for.

Check Check!

A handsome, but serious looking half elf in full plate armor walks in. A holy symbol around his neck and he wears a cloak of red with gold trim. He has a bastard sword in a scabbard and he carries a pole arm, a fauchard with him as well. He nods to those who are here. Greetings. I am Sir Kidron Quintus, knight of Last Wall.

Hancock, upon seeing all the armor and weapons nods to him approvingly. Well, as approving as a scowl can be.

"Hck," he mumbles.

Hancock is unkempt, disheveled, and slouches. He carries a large maul with a rune on it, some javelins, and wears a breastplate.

"Greetings pathfinder. I do not believe we have met, My name is Bruce, and the irascible one over there is Hancock. I have been hired to help him communicate, though I feel k~%~ we are more than just coworkers. Friends even," he adds with a broad toothy smile.

Hancock rolls his eyes and shares his scowl between the both of you as a result.

There's no place like home.
Thank the gods.

A Chileaxian noblewoman sits at a table, a goblet of fine wine as her only companion.

"Greetings, all of you. With such an assortment of fellows I have to assume you are Pathfinders." She digs up her wayfinder. "I am called Issil. Pleased to meet you." She looks aside to Bruce. "Hmm. My associate performs most of the dirty work. Perhaps you'll see her soon." She takes another swig.

"No dirty work for me, I assure you. I just do the talking for Hancock and occasionally tease him. Can't let things get boring."

^^^That was me, not Hancock.

In a corner of the room, a young man in impeccably tailored clothes sings softly to himself, occasionally taking notes as he goes. Around his neck, a silver chain holds a small rose pendant adorned with symbols of the faith of Shelyn. Despite his current relaxed appearance, his piled-up possessions include both heavy armor and a rune-encrusted glaive. As more Pathfinders arrive, he closes his notebook to join the group. With a broad smile and booming voice, he introduces himself as Fingo Canvas, clapping shoulders and shaking hands as he passes from one agent to the next.

Hancock gives Fingo's hand a good *hard* squeeze.

Fingo winks at Hancock, while surreptitiously massaging his hand behind his back.

Issil pauses as Fingo walks up to her and offers a hand. "Greetings, Fingo Canvas." She takes another swig. "Nice shirt."

Hancock gives Fingo's hand a good *hard* squeeze.

lol

The champion notices Issil Telfae and gives a short bow, Mi Lady! he says in acknowledgement.

He shakes hands with Fingo, A devotee of the Eternal Maiden. I have worked with your brethren in the Gravelands. Their ability to inspire hope and beauty is important in lands where despair and decay often rule.

A young woman with dirty-blonde hair and pale green eyes wanders into the room, a rather dreamy and vague expression on her face. Her simple leather armor creaks slightly with her movements as she looks around. A symbol depicting a woman dancing on the moon hangs from a chain around her neck.

"Hello New Friends! I'm Corona. It's wonderful to meet you," she beams, sticking out her hand. "It's always nice to work with Old Friends but it's even better to work with New Friends, so they can *become* Old Friends. And then we have more friends!"

Anyone unfamiliar with the young woman might notice that she uses the word 'we' - but she appears to be alone. That is, until a little creature that looks like a crude doll made of wicker and wood slowly emerges from the woman's backpack. It looks around, expression unreadable.

Honestly, it's a little unsettling.

"This seems like the right place." Cal says to himself and he finds the other Pathfinders.

The young man that joins you is big, human, blonde and handsome. He stands around 6'4" and wears shiny half-plate. He wears a bag over one shoulder that is stuffed full of scrolls and other small items and a violin on the other. At his side, he wears an elegant, old bastard sword that obviously used to have more runes on it than the few it currently has. A belt holds assorted other weapons including a polytool and a repair kit.

"Hello Issil. I hope you're doing well since that Aspis Consortium shipment run-in we had. Hello everyone. I'm Cal."

He offers a charming smile.

You are summoned to a private audience with Venture-Captain Jorsal of Lauterbury within the Starrise Spire in the city of Nerosyan. A silent halfling in a hooded robe leads you to a chamber near the top of the spire and departs with a solemn nod, leaving you to their meeting. Jorsal's study is a small, tidy room lined with bookcases and furnished with an altar in its eastern corner. A mail-suited man kneels on the stone floor with his back to the door, his head bowed in obeisance as he murmurs his evening prayer. As the door creaks shut, he stands and turns to acknowledge his visitors.

"Well met, Pathfinders. I am Jorsal of Lauterbury, Venture-Captain of the Starrise Spire. I hope you've enjoyed your stay in Nerosyan thus far—a short visit, regrettably, that is now at its end. Tomorrow, you travel north to rendezvous with my friend Selik, a representative of the Farheaven clan. Selik awaits you within a trading post at the crossroads, where you are to exchange supplies and information. Devil’s Rest, as locals call it, was an established landmark long before I first began sketching this map. The building has stood for decades, perhaps even centuries. Devil’s Rest serves as an inn and supply station for all manner of travelers. Rumor has it that the name is because it was founded by a Chelaxian noble."

Jorsal beckons his guests toward a high table strewn with rolls of parchment, broken quills, and pots of ink. He gently sweeps the items to one side, revealing a painstakingly detailed map, inked in his own hand, of the Sarkoris Scar and its surrounding lands. Jorsal thumbs a spot south of what was once the Worldwound and continues, "This is your destination. I cannot rely on mere couriers for this errand, as miles of dangerous country lie between Nerosyan and this site. The demons' foul influence still lingers in some parts of these accursed lands. I've hired a wagon to bear you and the supplies to the trading post. Your driver is a stalwart woman who's made the journey many times. She's prepared to depart tomorrow at first light."

Jorsal pauses to study his map and absentmindedly traces a finger along the route from Nerosyan to the crossroads. "Your task is simple, but I warn you to stay vigilant, and report any unusual occurrences to me."

He hands you a letter from Eando Kline and a letter addressed to Selik detailing information about Pathfinder Society activities in the Sarkoris Scar region.

If you need to do any last minute shopping, now would be a good time. Believe me, you won't get a chance later! :)

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

"I have some silversheen, holy water and a magic weapon, but what is it that demons are most easily hurt by?"

"And is it just demons that might be lurking around or are there other things now?" Corona asks, eyes glancing downward at Eando's letter and then back up again. "Now that there's not a hole to the Abyss other nasty things might have started moving in to make themselves at home, after all!"

Diplomacy (DC 16): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

"You know, New Friends, Devil's Rest really *was* founded by an exiled Chelaxian noble," she adds after sitting in thought for a moment. "And they never turn a guest away, from what I've heard. I wonder how it managed to keep standing even during the years the Worldwound was open?"

diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

Bruce shudders.

"You know, you make a good point. We might expect to see some unusual guests at the inn. Good thing Hancock here has experience smashing demons and the like."

As Bruce says this he moves behind the surly warrior, which could be a predictor of the way things will work between the two of them.

"Hello Issil. I hope you're doing well since that Aspis Consortium shipment run-in we had. Hello everyone. I'm Cal."

He offers a charming smile.

"Don't remind me. My associate complained about a particularly obnoxious chameleon. Almost ruined her ash makeup."

The champion notices Issil Telfae and gives a short bow, Mi Lady! he says in acknowledgement.

"Greetings. No need to be so formal." She takes another sip from her goblet.

Corona enters and introduces herself in a very friendly manor, and yet so... possessed. Another persona? Issil makes a mental note for later.

"Devil’s Rest serves as an inn and supply station for all manner of travelers. Rumor has it that the name is because it was founded by a Chelaxian noble."

Issil snorts. "It's almost a certainty. There's a sense of irony amongst the nobility to add a Hellish theme to everything they do. Of course, that's the first step towards corruption: letting your guard down." She plops on a chair. When Corona confirms her suspicions, she laughs. "See?"

"Hmmm. Sounds like we're going to scout a site. Er, devils or demons? They are quite different. Devils are tireless workers, while Demons are uncontrolled rage."

She feels a migraine coming on. "A bottle of >silversheen< and >holy water< will prove useful. I'll tell my associate to acquire both. And the two minor >healing potions<, of course."

"At any rate, my associate will meet you at the caravan tomorrow morning. I have to remind her not to drink too much..." she finishes off her goblet.

Hancock will take the advice and get some silversheen.

Fingo appears particularly pleased as Issil takes notice of his attire, and bows deeply to the Chelaxian.
Good to know that there are people of taste among our Society's agents.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

Lacking any knowledge about the area, he stays mostly silent as the group gathers around Jorsal.

I had assumed that we would be in for some demons, given the Abyssal corruption of the Worldwound... but who knows what we will find when we arrive. I am curious though... why send us there, specifically? Are we looking for something? Or is that location of particular importance, that we need to scout it carefully?

"I think we're just taking supplies to this Selik person and Devil's Rest must be the halfway point between where they are and where *we* are...or maybe it's the only 'safe' place in that area to meet up. Either one seems likely!"

His school item will be silversheen.

He will ask of those with a connection to the Divine, Are you able to use the power of the gods to make our weapons unto like silver?

Corona looks thoughtful. "Hmm...silver...silver...silver weapons...nope! Not that I know of," she answers with a shake of her head. "That'd be really neat if we could, though."

The day following your briefing with Venture-Captain Jorsal, you set out at first light to rendezvous with Selik Farheaven. They travel in a hired horse-drawn wagon from Nerosyan to a crossroads trading post south of the Sarkoris Scar nicknamed Devil’s Rest. Your driver is a taciturn human woman who wears her hood pulled low over her weathered face. She tersely introduces herself as Maeri and insists on embarking immediately. Maeri generally ignores your attempts at conversation or requests for information, responding your attempts at Diplomacy or Intimidation, or even bribes, with phrases such as, “I’m only a driver, friend. Let me do my job.” Your route takes you through miles of wilderness along an uneven dirt road. The journey is unpleasant; the road is rough, and the wagon constantly bounces. The only sound besides the whistling wind outside is Maeri’s shouted commands to her horses. As the day drags on, Maeri remains hellbent on reaching the crossroads before nightfall. She drives the horses hard and isn’t apt to stop for anything except an emergency.

You peer out of the wagon’s curtained windows notice that the landscape subtly warps as they travel farther north, with deformed, gnarled tree trunks creeping along the ground rather than upward, riverbeds stagnant with greenishblack sludge, and disturbing animal calls that sound like human screams emanating from the overgrown brush.

At midday, Maeri stops near a polluted stream to tend to her horses. She carries her own canteens and refuses to allow you or her animals to approach the nearby water. During their stop, you encounter fellow traveler Kellvan, an inspector from Nerosyan traveling far afield to investigate a string of frauds in the villages north of his city. He slows his horse and leaps from his saddle to hail the wagon’s passengers.

"Well met fellow travelers! Where might you be bound?"

Feeling honest and wanting to see the response, Cal says "We have business at Devil's Rest. Checking out unusual occurrences. You ever been there? We're with the Pathfinder Society. How about you?"

"I'm bound to hurl yesterday's wine into that pond." A woman dressed in red, her face and skin covered in white ash, steps from the back of the wagon.

"This is the roughest ride I've been to in years. Maeri can't even entertain with tales of this region, either." The Carnelian Signet grumbles. "My employer better pay me extra for this excursion."

"As my friend here says, we're en route to the Devil's Rest. Anything interesting going on out there?"

Bruce lines up with the others, a friendly grin on his face as Hancock stands off fingering his maul and scowling.

"On a supply run. To Devil's Rest as the others mentioned. How about you? Got any interesting stories or information for us?"

diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

Fingo enthusiastically greet the traveler while observing his attire and demeanor, trying to get a better beat on his activities.

Society: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

As the conversation progresses, Fingo nods at Bruce's suggestion.

Any story would be great. It has been a dreadful journey so far. We could use a distraction.

The paladin will keep his eyes open for trouble

Corona pokes her head out from the wagon and waves cheerfully at the fellow traveler. "Hello, New Friend! It's nice to meet you! Like my other New Friends said, we're heading to Devil's Rest. If you're going the same direction maybe we can travel together?"

"Oh, I'm heading there myself! I would be happy to travel with you. I am Kellvan. He pulls a badge from his pocket and shows it to you. Might I inquire what you're carrying to Devil's Rest?"

Apologies for the lack of updates. This week is a bit unusual as we only have 2 workdays -- and I tend to get lazy :)

"Ourselves," Corona answers absently as she studies the badge, curious if she recognizes it from anywhere.
______________

Recall Knowledge, if applicable~

Kellvan reaches into his satchel and pulls out two missives. "I was also instructed to hand these to a pair of you. Is there a Kidron Quintus and a Hancock traveling in your group?"

"Oh?" The Carnelian Signet pipes up a bit. "You're here on assignment, too? Is the wine around here good? Any entertainment? Or is it all..." She motions to the stoic driver. "Drudgery?"

Hancock is about to start filling the paperwork out when Bruce snatches it from his hand.

"You want them to be able to read this?"

Bruce fills it out.

"Oh wow, the mail really does always go through," Corona blinks as the missives are handed out. "That's amazing!"

Noticing that Settie has been peering over her shoulder and staring at the inspector, Corona smiles up at her poppet friend. "It's okay Settie, that's a real badge from Nerosyan."

Settie looks down at Corona and then back up at Kellvan and then back at Corona again.

"If you say so."

Fingo looks at the exchange curiously, then ◆ Casts Message on Bruce then Kidron.

A mysterious message.

Hancock is about to start filling the paperwork out when Bruce snatches it from his hand.

"You want them to be able to read this?"

Bruce fills it out.

LOL!

Fingo nods at Bruce, then turns towards the rest of the group.

Well. If we are all traveling there, we could as well. It would be awkward to follow the same route a hundred feet apart until Devil's Rest, wouldn't it?

Although naturally trusting, Cal knows they are headed to haunted lands and keeps an eye on the new traveller.

A few hours later, the trail crosses through a thick forest of mutated trees. The horses inexplicably rear and whinny, bringing the wagon to a halt. Maeri disembarks to soothe her beasts and free them from their tangled harnesses. As you enjoy a brief respite from the bumpy ride, movement stirs in the overgrown hedges surrounding the dirt road.

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COMBAT TRACKER
Round: 1
Tactical Map
Active Conditions: Trees and water are difficult terrain
------------------
Those with ** may go

**Fingo Canvas - AC 20, 44/44
**Kidron Quintus - AC 22, 60/60
**Cal - AC 22, 52/52
**The Carnelian Signet - AC 19, 38/38
**Hancock the Angry - AC 21, 70/70
**Kellvan
**Corona Meridian - AC 18, 38/38

The paladin will get down from the wagon if necessary, draw his blade and hold it in 2 hands, ready for action.

The wine and the rocks do not make a good pairing. Her stomach pays the price. "Are we there yet?"

At least the horses stopped.

She climbs out of the wagon when she hears something. She draws her whip. "If you're coming to fight me, hurry up already."