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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 keep all posts and communication in all channels limited to a PG-13 level and be both positive and inclusive.
3) Please label all three of your actions. Even if you think what you are doing is obvious.
4) 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.
5) 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
6) Please complete the Macros and the Slides linked at the top of the page.
7) Questions, concerns? Feel free to share them in the Discussion tab.
8) Let's have some fun and tell a great story together! After all, that's what we are here for.
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Huh Shouldadied beams from beneath his helmet, the polished plates of his armor gleaming in the sun, while a small grizzly bear cub sleeps at his side with its head in his lap, jaws open, drooling slowly, and snoozing like a giant cat.
“Name’s Huh! Shoulda died, didn’t” he says brightly, giving the cub an affectionate pat “This here’s Shirty. He’s still growing into the claws, but don’t let the size fool you because he’s got plenty of bite already!”
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A slightly distracted looking gnome is also part of the group. Rather than colourful, this gnome appears pale, very pale. All apart from their eyes which glow with a fearsome red of a forest fire.
As they shuffle along, eyes tracking things that nobody else can apparently see, a silver flute appears in their hands. Twirling the small flute around, they look down appearing surprised to find it in their hands. Then with a shrug the flute goes into their mouth and they begin to play... quite beautifully.
After a while they glance around, taking in the group and the words being said. They stop, look hard at Hug and ask "Why shouldadied?"
Then, as perhaps an afterthought, or maybe prompted by something unseen they say "Oh... yes... I'm Slipp."
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“The full name’s Huh Shouldadied. If you’ve ever seen a goblin hatching festival, you know the games thin out the new batch pretty fast so only the strongest and meanest survive. At my hatching in the People’s Democratic Republic of Thistletop, we had a great turnout and the games were as brutal as ever. The village only wanted ten of us, but eleven survived the great Baked in a Pie game. The rest were eaten as part of the feast, already in the pie!"
"We all stood at the top of a cliff, proud to be displayed to Chief Gutwad the Third. I was the eleventh. When he got to me, he just kicked me right over the edge. Fortunately, I landed on my head and was fine! I stood up all proud, thought it was just one more game, and the Chief named me himself! He looked down, all the other goblins leaning over beside him, pointed down at me and said ‘HUH? SHOULDA DIED!’ And that’s how I got my name, an honour from the Chief himself!”
"It's strange, I have been hit in battle plenty of times really hard and heard people use my name then too - and I haven't even met them before"
The goblin seems super proud, but the whole problem here clearly hasn't occurred to him.
He listens to the music for a moment and smiles a genuine smile "You play beautifully"
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A quiet, unobtrusive halfling in neat but not ostentatious clothing bows slightly. "I'm called Nic Blackwillow." Even his voice is quiet but clear, with a slight Chelish accent. A sheathed rapier and dagger hang from his belt. As soon as he sees the gnome, the mask of reserve cracks and he smiles. "Slipp! I haven't seen you since that mission in Sedeq. How've you been?"
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Upon hearing the performance, BK pulls out an ornate silver inlaid flute with a grin. A very big grin.
"Never fear, BK is here! Heroic hero and intrepid adventurer!"
Bk is another odd looking gnome. On his head is a jester's cap a size or two too big, In spite of that, stray hairs have escaped the containment and some of them are decidedly pale, suggesting the onset of bleaching. His smile is alarmingly large, like from some horror show and every sentence seems to be punctuated with an exclamation point.
"And consummate performer!"
He joins in Slip's performance, adding harmony or counterpoint if he knows the tune.
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The half-orc is big, both round around the middle and tall in his shoulder. "I say, I say, I shoulda brought a horse, a pack animal. This is going to be a lot of walking."
"Name's Buford, Buford Oxcatcher of the Nirmathi Oxcatchers. People up there say we're just a bunch of cattle rustlers and horse thieves. And that's a half-truth, I say."[/b]
"My word, boy, you've got a certified bruin there. Is it trained? Will it come when you call it?" Oxcatcher says to Huh.
"I do declare, we've got a surfeit of little people running around. A man's liable to to strain his neck."
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In stark contrast to the graceful fields of black roses that sway in the breeze along the busy road hugging Lake Sorrow, the ornate black and red spires of the City of Thorns stand menacingly over the city walls from beyond the Sorrowgate. Hundreds of travelers, traders, and residents wait for their chance to bring their caravans into the city. With dozens of heavily armed soldiers clad in the black and red of Thrune livery inspecting every carriage and roughhousing those who dare to complain, the long wait to pass through Sorrowgate goes by with little incident as the crowds are cowed into acquiescence.
"Could be worse," a merchant comments to his traveling companion in earshot of all those nearby. "The Southgate has Hellknights on patrol, and they won’t let anyone with gold or weapons through without making them pay a hefty tax. And the gate up by the Vice has been closed for months." The guards review the merchant’s papers and allow the pair to pass into Sorrowside, with little hassle and few questions regarding their armaments and goods bound for the merchant quarter.
Through the open gates, the smaller structures of the Old City look worn and ancient compared to the more modern Thrune-era establishments which encroach on the district, including many with hints of foreign influence. More black-clad soldiers patrol the cobblestone streets, a harsh reminder of House Thrune’s dominance in every corner of the city. Slowly the line moves up to allow another group of carts through the Sorrowgate, inching ever closer to the Old City beyond.
As you arrive, a messenger catches up to you and hands you a parcel with a note attached. After reading the missive, you open the package to find 4 lesser healing potions.
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"My word, boy, you've got a certified bruin there. Is it trained? Will it come when you call it?" Oxcatcher says to Huh.
"Mostly." Huh says with a mix of paternal pride and deep consternation all at once. "Bears, you know how they are. They're a bit like trying to keep Goblins on the task at hand. Some days it is more difficult than others."
***
"That's not a note we should be found with, I agree, we know who we are looking for so there's no need to keep it. Sorrowside, Greensteeples, Bendet. Jeggare"
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"Alright, kiddos, you'll want to swallow them wayfinders. We Pathfinders aren't considered polite company in this here capital city. They got Hellknights watchin' the gates, making sure we follow their rules, see? After them Kintargo fellers rebelled, House Thrune tightened their them screws, boy. Mind your Ps and Qs."
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To remember the facts, BK composes a quick rhyme and puts it to music. "This should help us remember."
Varian Jeggare was a Count
Left Greensteeples to see the tide
Left poor Benedet on a mount
So now we go to Sorrowside.
I know, I know, we don't know why or how he went, but it rhymes, so there's that."
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Following Ambrus' instructions not to stand out, you easily pass inspection and proceed to Greensteeples.
Dwarfed by the ostentatious black and red buildings that surround it, Greensteeples stands out as a small, ivy-covered manor of an architectural style that seems to predate its neighbors and outclasses them in subtleties of classic design elements. By comparison, the larger structures surrounding the manor telegraph their designers’ need to display their loyalty to Cheliax’s ruling house. Nothing about the unassuming building speaks to its role as Cheliax’s only active Pathfinder Society lodge.
"Milo, get those horses fed. His Excellency won’t appreciate underfed mounts," instructs a halfling in a crisp and clean uniform bearing the same heraldry that’s emblazoned over the entrance to Greensteeples. The servant they scolded pulls on the reins of a pair of horses that follow him into the nearby stables. A few other halflings approach the uniformed halfling, and they continue giving orders as another pair close the courtyard gates behind them. All of the servants look up warily from their duties at the arrival of newcomers.
The person giving orders looks up and notices you approach. "Ah! Well met! I am Benedet, head of the household. How may I help you?"
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You see an old goblin woman with pale eyes. She has a toad on her head. She nods to you.
"Sorry... was asleep.. anyway, I know a little about this place," she says.
Egorian is one of the most powerful capital cities in the Inner Sea region and remains the seat of power for Cheliax’s House Thrune. Laws in the capital city are strict and heavily enforced and the Egorian City Guard’s power is bolstered by local Hellknight contingents. After the revolution in Kintargo, most routes into and out of the city are well-monitored and travel is regulated to avoid any kind of uprising against the imperial house. Pathfinders aren’t welcome in Egorian and they risk being imprisoned or worse, for charges up to and including insurrection, if they are discovered. As well as his role as a venture-captain in the Pathfinder Society, Count Varian Jeggare is a respected and influential noble in Cheliax. Pathfinders in Egorian can always find refuge in his home, Greensteeples, and his halfling staff are well equipped to keep them hidden or heal their ailments if necessary. Rumor has it Jeggare rarely commits things directly to writing—he uses code words and secret phrases to conceal the true meaning of his messages.
"Now... I need something to eat... and drink..."
(Sorry missed the announcement for this. Catching up now.)|
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Seeing Nic's gestures, as well as hearing mention of the letter, Benedet's eyes widen. Before BK can continue his statement, he finds himself physically dragged into the manor. You all follow, concerned, as well as a little alarmed. Benedet glances around furtively, as if panicked that someone may have seen their actions.
Once inside, in a well-appointed antechamber, Benedet calms down. They stop for a moment near an enormous and elderly Ustalavic wolfhound, Arnisant. The hound is nearly as tall as the halfling, with a dark coat giving way to the lighter greys of age. Despite its apparent age, the wolfhound still has a good deal of muscle and his eyes take in each visitor in turn. Benedet talks in soothing tones to the dog and gives him a treat from their jacket pocket. The dog, mollified that the newcomers aren’t unwelcome, turns in a circle several times before coming to rest on a large bed set aside for the purpose.
"I apologize for my actions outside. We are in Cheliax, after all, and the Pathfinder Society is outlawed here."
Benedet then introduces themselves more formally this time. "I am Benedet, head of His Excellency’s household. I have served Count Jeggare as majordomo at Greensteeples for five years after the previous butler returned to his family outside Chelaxian borders. I run the day-to-day affairs of His Excellency’s public work. His Excellency returned from a trip to Korvosa nearly eight weeks ago. As usual, I apprised him on the affairs of the household in his absence, but there was nothing pressing. He needed to conduct some research here at Greensteeples, something related to one of his teams out in the field. He didn’t consult me on what or whom he was researching, but in all likelihood, His Excellency was striving to protect us. That is his way." Benedet breaks into a small, warm smile before catching themselves and returning to their matter-of-fact disposition. "Several weeks ago, the Count left in the middle of the night. This isn’t abnormal for him, but he usually sends a message through magical conveyance or one of his roses to check in whenever he plans to stay away for more than week at a time. His Excellency’s standing orders when he doesn’t return or make a scheduled contact is to call upon the Society to investigate. He has stated the best starting point, barring other leads, is always whatever project he is working on in the library. So, we are under orders to leave the archives exactly as he left them in cases such as this. I will direct you to the library when you are ready to begin your search."
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"Noooooo" almost cries Slipp, who buries themself in the wolf-hounds coat. "Not the library. I'll be good."
They turn to Nyak. "You get the ladders, I'll look after Arnisant here. Good boy. Good boy."
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Exploring libraries does not seem like the thing that BK, hero and adventurer, should be tasked with, but BK, entertainer extraordinaire would definitely profit from.
"BK, on the job. Just point the way!"
Unlike the others BK is not interested in petting, cuddling, or otherwise touching the big dog.
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"Yes. They are used to communicate with us if he plans to stay away for an extended period of time. Perhaps we should adjourn to the library so I can show you what the Count was working on?"