Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus stands on a low platform in front of the assembly. “Pathfinders, our beloved Absalom faces the threat of invasion and needs our help. Just as Absalom has been our Society’s home for centuries, so does it fall to us to aid in its defense. Find the group to which you’ve been assigned, lend a hand as the city prepares for the siege, and be ready for more instructions.”
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Hundreds of Pathfinders stand waiting at the Grand Lodge for news of the coming battle, and a murmur of anticipation has risen from the nervous crowd. Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus takes the lectern, raises his hand for attention, and speaks: “Pathfinders, thank you for answering my call. It has been two days since we received news of an army of demonic abominations building a siege castle in the Cairnlands north of Absalom."
"Today, the Grand Council of Absalom announced they have invoked an old wartime law, according to which a Siege Lord must be appointed to oversee the city’s defense. They’ve made an excellent choice: Wynsal Starborn, District Seat on the Grand Council and retired Captain of the First Guard."
“He has already organized scouting forays and evacuations of the outer towns in preparation for a siege. The Pathfinder Society has pledged to help the Siege Lord with the preparations. All of you have been assigned to teams, and if you have already found the other members of your team, you should get started. Go now, but be ready to return here when you hear the signal horn.”
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A human is waiting at the mustering location. Or at least near enough. He has claimed a spot on a nearby picnic table and waves everyone over, "Got us seats for the show. Or whatever it is. Seems like I chose a crap time to move to Absalom. Angus is my name." He gives a wry grin.
If familiar with human ages, Angus looks to be in his twenties. Loose flowing locks and a square jaw line give him and handsome (to some) look. He looks fit and carries a longbow as his most obvious weapon. He has a canvas sack sitting next to him.
He soon hollers at a nearby group, "OYE! Ya heard what's really going on? Ya know? The stuff they aren't telling us?"
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A pale, strange, red haired woman leans against a pillar, silently, while people speak around her. There is some sharp, draconic almost angles to her features. The Kellid observes with curiosity, but seems to pack her own dosage of shyness and awkwardness. Even her armor was somewhat exotic, though she had a small piece of cloth with the Pathfinder Society heraldry wrapped around her arm. Despite it all, however, she has a sword and shield, which hints of being some sort of fighter or warrior.
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A half-orc makes his way through the crowd greeting some of the other Pathfinders, "Hey you still owe me ten measures from the last craps game ya deadbeat!" and "Two Ton Tony, it's good to see you although at your size it's not like everyone can't see you haha!"
He gives the chap a hearty clap on the shoulder to show he's just teasing the man.
He ambles over to the assembled group of agents and says, "Ah here you all are! The name's Arioch. No worries we'll all be safe and sound minus a couple of us by the time this war's over amiright?"
His toothy grin, shiny chain shirt, and impressive yet sleek sword indicate this is a guy who knows how to throw hands.
"Good to see we're keeping our ears to the ground to pick up the latest gosssip."
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A young human woman stands at the mustering point. She has short blonde hair and wears split mail, with a shield on her back and a sword at her side. She seems wound up, worried but excited to do her part. "I'm Celeste, of house Durane out of Lastwall. I've never been in a full scale war before, but you're right Arioch...we'll keep each other safe and pull through whatever dangers we face together."
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Useful Gossip Success!
The group overhears some unusual gossip. People have been complaining that the local bread and water taste funny today. Sailors have been talking about a strange fog rising in the Flotsam Graveyard and at sea beyond the bay. Some even say they’ve seen the outlines of masts within the fog. There could be enemies from among the fog, be aware, be ready Pathfinders.
A Pathfinder Society wagon transporting alchemical goods has broken down within your sights.
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Arioch slips some tools out of seemingly nowhere into his hands and goes to work, "Let's see what we can do here. Ah it looks like someone, or something, weakened some parts here so the wagon wouldn't get to its destination. Sneaky! Yo muscles" he points at the others, "lift this over here so I can work on it some more."
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Elana doesn’t really pay much attention to Arioch’s technique at this point; instead, she acts more on instinct to try to flip the wagon back in place so people can try to fix it. She isn’t very successful, as the vehicle looks more fragile than she anticipated, but the slayer still puts the effort.
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She is a towering but incredibly affable half-orc with a shock of firey red hair, and facial features that lean more toward her human side. She's clad in clean but slightly dented masterfully-worked full plate, wearing a simple but stout gold chain around her throat.
Grelthe automatically assumes when Arioch is calling for "muscles" that is likely her - she always responds to calls for muscles.
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Grelthe is a towering but incredibly affable half-orc with a shock of firey red hair, and facial features that lean more toward her human (Ulfen) side. She's clad in clean but slightly dented masterfully-worked full plate, wearing a simple but stout gold chain around her throat , and multiple mundane weapons and a shield about her person.
She introduces herself by her full title, "Grelthe Hraustligr, the Singing Paladin of Kurgess and vassal of White Estrid, reporting for duty" from the Ironbound Archipelago and goes around the room, gregariously shaking hands as she assesses each person's apparent skills with consideration and respect.
"I'm a strong arm for my god, the Strongman, Kurgess." She flexes a bicep with a confident flick of her eyebrow, then gestures toward the number of weapons at her side. Then she grins amiably, the light glistening off her slight tusks. "I'm also rather good at talking to people."
She also specifies that her particular talents lay in Diplomacy and battlefield tactics .
Grelthe automatically assumes when Arioch is calling for "muscles" that is likely her - she always responds to calls for muscles.
She easily assists in righting the wagon, being careful with the Alchemical reagents.
Grelthe also knows things. We're a very know-ful party.
Irritable Diplomat (Racial; half-orc): Most people expect half-orcs to be savage and violent, and you’re used to working a little harder to overcome their assumptions. Unfortunately, you’re still working on keeping patient when they ignore your efforts. Once per day, you may choose to gain a +5 trait bonus on any Diplomacy check, but if it fails, you take a –2 penalty on all Charisma-based checks for the next 10 minutes.
Weal's Champion (Smite Evil): Relevant party benefit
In addition, for 1 round after the holy tactician successfully strikes an evil creature, all non-evil allies within 30 feet of her gain a competence bonus on attack rolls equal to 1/2 her Charisma bonus against that creature as well as a +1 competence bonus on damage rolls.
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As his hand is enveloped by the holy warrior, Angus looks up at her and blood rushes to his face. He doesn’t even stammer out a reply before she moves on to the next pathfinder.
Good show Old Deadeye! What a magnificent woman. Do I have a thing for half-orcs?
He looks at Arioch.
Nope!
Hot damn, this move may be worth it after all. Definitely worth it to see if more pathfinders are like her than like my last crew.
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Arioch barks at Elana, "Hey watch where you're moving this wagon - that's my foot!"
He snickers to reassure everyone everything is under control.
At the appearance, and power, of Grelthe his eyes widen and he says, "Whoa look at this mama jama! Easy princess we're trying to fix the wagon not throw it on somebody."
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This Muscle Mommy charming Half-Orc exhibits a unique mixture of mostly martial prowess alongside some courtly grace as well, which makes her able to befriend both high class and low class peoples. ((She grew up an orphan, as a thrall-slave sailor, but more recently training as a warrior-poet as well.)) Most people expect half-orcs to be savage and violent, but Grelthe works hard to overcome such stereotypes, (and is a bit of a bookworm, despite not being very clever).
She recognizes Celeste with equal respect - a Cavalier from Lastwall shall be an excellent Pathfinder companion for her own strengths. Grelthe seriously considers getting a horse.
Grelthe smirks knowingly at Angus's blush, amusement sparkling in her eyes as she continues past to greet the other Pathfinders.
She recognizes Elana's body language as 'I prefer to be ignored, thank you' and simply give her an eye contact and head dip of acknowledgement - being familiar with sneakier roguish types, she quickly sizes up Arioch's build and mentally places him in the same category, tactically. NOT socially.
Grelthe is VERY concerned about the gossip they overheard: especially the food and water not tasting right! She would like to follow up on that if possible.
With her sailing background, she would not be surprised about a possible attack from the sea. The mysterious fog is...something else.
Seeing Angus & Elana struggling with the cart, Grelthe shakes her head and instead make eye contact with Celeste on the other side of the wagon as they follow Arioch's 'guidance' to right it together. Realistically, this means the two burly women in armor have the thing well in control as Arioch jokes about throwing it. Grelthe rolls her eyes slightly, but replies to Arioch with actual enthusiam "No, no, I save my tree-tossing for the Carnival of Kurgess! on Widowmaker Isle, every two years. One of the athletic competitions is tossing 'cabers' which are tree trunks about, oh, 6 yards long or so."
She dusts off her hands on her pants, and straightens up, grinning at the shy Cleric of Erastil with no muscles, she claps him on the shoulder, and says encouragingly (having recognized his religion):
"'The hardest task becomes easy with a friend.' We each have different strengths to offer." she taps his shoulder twice, and moves on - resisting actually winking at Angus, not wanting his head to explode.
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Some of the group is unsuccessful in pushing the cart, perhaps hurt themselves a little in the process but between Arioch, Grelthe and Celeste, they devise a means to get the cart off the ground and moving again.
Thankful for your help, the wagon’s owner provides a potion of cure serious wounds for each of you. Additionally, because of some minor improvements to the wagon he would allow you to take one 3rd level potion as a reward.
But coming from the heart of the city, he makes the group aware of some strange occurrences in the heart of Absalom that needs to be investigated.
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Angus isn’t really paying much attention to anything after getting some attention he did not expect to get.
But he does nod at the phrase given as being one he recognizes, but from where?
My dad used to say that all the time around the house. What was it about? Oh yeah, usually when he needed help with something and I was being lazy. Hmm… ‘The hardest task becomes easy with a friend. We each have different strengths to offer.’
He looks up at Grelthe, realizing he has been walking next to her the whole time, ”I uh, I’ve never heard that said warmly. My dad always used it to guilt me into helping him. I sorta realize that isn’t right, ya know? I think I’ve got a lot more to work through than I thought.”
He puts his full effort into helping out this time.
Though it may not improve the result, his attitude towards the task has improved.
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Elana still holds her silence, despite the loud half-orc complaining near her. She saw the type many times before, and just elected to not engage. She smiles when the cart is finally fixed, and thanks its owner for the potion. What she doesn't like, however, are the rumors coming from the heart of Absalom. She tries again to assist the group into finding out whatever was going on.
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Arioch thanks the wagon owner for his generosity, "Hey thanks for the potions we'll put them to good use in defense of the city."
After hearing the latest news he says, "For something in Absalom to be considered 'strange' takes on a whole new meaning. It doesn't sound good that's for sure."
"Lemme put my ear to the ground and see what I can pick up."
Nodding at Angus, "Yeah my Grand Ma-Ma used to guilt me into doing stuff for her but I loved her so it was all good. Plus she had great aim with her shoes..."
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In your investigations, you discover some skeletal footprint and a part of a broken sickle. Following the skeletal footprints, you notice that the
supports of a bridge have been sabotaged.
Word is that an army of some sort is mustering in the Cairnlands, some agents have decided it would useful to spend some time to do reconnaissance.
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Arioch exchanges whispers with a furtive man and says, "Thanks Smiley; I owe ya."
As the man scurries away and blends in with the crowds Arioch turns to the group, "I knew it the damned undead have infiltrated the city. Time to get a look around and see what's up."
He then searches for suitable shadows to spy for any sign of undead:
"Gods above, I thought I'd never find you lot!" Calls out an average sized woman in scale mail and with a large hammer strapped to her back. She drags a hand across her raid hair, huffing as she approaches the other pathfinders.
"Pologies for not linking up earlier, this whole damn city is a maze and I only made it to the damn lodge after three different people gave me wrong directions. Had to go find it my bloody self." She quite literally spits out, turning her head to the side to do so.
"Anyways, let's skip the pleasantries and get back to it. Astrid Shatterhelm, I'll go make myself useful and see if I can't spot anything." She states, walking off a ways and trying to get a proper survey of the nearby area.
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When the group moves to scout the approaching Army, Celeste steps aside. "I should get mounted up on Blossom, my warhorse if we're going to be covering a lot of ground outside. I'll catch up with you at the gate."
She sprints off towards the stables, and after a short time comes riding up on a horse clad in chain mail armor, with a lance held upright in her hand. "Ok, ready to go! Lets see what's going on with this army."
"Hm...I never was very good at sentry duty. Where are we looking again, exactly?"
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The reconnaissance was a success, in a short amount of time, the group is able to uncover that the enemy army consists of various kinds of creatures stitched together from demonic flesh: constructs, oozes, and undead. The army’s field commanders are all minotaurs and that there are true demons among the army’s ranks.
Some stubborn city dwellers seem to refuse to evacuate even though the warning bells have been rung. It's up to you to get some innocents out of harms way.
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Word is that an army of some sort is mustering in the Cairnlands, some agents have decided it would useful to spend some time to do reconnaissance.
Evacuate stubborn innocents from city
Some stubborn city dwellers seem to refuse to evacuate even though the warning bells have been rung. It's up to you to get some innocents out of harms way.
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"We need to help the spellcasters set up the wards!"
Grelthe is not naturally inclined towards magic, but thanks her god for her Divinely inspired religious knowledge (although it's actually due to her enormous effort of self-directed study).
She is able to support her tactical batltefield knowledge to suggest where to enhanced the wards, and which divine symbols of which deity might be best suited.
Heavy clouds are gathering above Absalom, and the city is tense with anticipation of the coming battle. Suddenly, bright light patterns flash from atop Skyreach. A few minutes later, the sound of an explosion rumbles through the city as an old wooden granary erupts in flames. A little farther away, a stone bridge collapses, dropping a group of soldiers to their deaths. Soon the air is alive with frightened screams, the sound of hurried footsteps, and moments later, the booming blare of a brass horn that rises above the din of a city in chaos. A messenger runs past, shouting: “The horn! Everyone, gather at the Grand Lodge! Let’s go!”
Several agents assist in marshaling Pathfinders as Marcos Farabellus unfurls several maps of Absalom’s districts. Once a crowd has gathered, he straightens to address the assembled Society. “Pathfinders, Absalom is under attack. We have received many reports of undead saboteurs attacking armories, granaries, water supplies, and guard outposts—targeted strikes to undermine our city’s infrastructure. Absalom is losing key resources, and enough people are panicking that it’s difficult to organize an effective defense.”
Zarta Dralneen, head of the Dark Archive faction, steps forward and interjects. “I have learned someone—someone who knows our home well—has stolen the Black Echelon codebook from our archives. A force of Taldan agents attacked Absalom long ago while following those encoded orders, and with the right combination of illuminated signals, one could draw these oathsworn operatives from beyond the grave to continue their attack.”
Farabellus narrows his eyes. “That explains the acts of sabotage. Absalom’s First Guard is struggling to restore order, and they need our help. Pathfinders, stand by for instructions!”
Ollysta Zadrian of the Silver Crusade raises her sword high, announcing, “We must not wait—Absalom needs us now!”
Clasping the paladin’s other hand with her own and raising it, Lady Gloriana Morilla adds, “Each of us has accumulated considerable influence and resources in recent years, and now is the time for us to lend Absalom our strength in its hour of need. We may call ourselves factions, but today we act as one!”
Nodding with approval, Marcos Farabellus calls out to the assembled Pathfinders. “It’s decided. Pathfinders, we’re deferring to the specialized expertise of these seven organizations to rally Absalom. Seek out the leaders for instructions, and make the city proud.”
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It has been decided. The factions of the Pathfinder Society will coordinate the Society’s efforts to help Absalom survive from the attack. Each faction has identified a task ideally suited to its strengths and its agents’ skills, so choose your missions wisely. Most of you are best equipped to serve the needs of your own factions, but there are considerable opportunities to help Absalom by assisting other factions directly. Now is not a good time to be selfish—you’re all in this together!
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Angus is rushed around like a ragdoll through the whole process of getting back to the mustering point. He stands there gasping before finally making a suggestion, ”Maybe… work to our strengths? Which is uh…”
He looks up at all the strong and forceful personalities in the group.
”…strength and diplomacy, oddly? Sovereign Court mission to persuade someone of something?”
"I'm good at breaking things!" Astrid declares, quite proud of that fact, then double checks the possible tasks they could undertake. "Ah, but that's not here, a pity. Well! I'll follow along and see if something needs Shattering anyways. Sounds like there's a majority anyways."