Hi, everyone.
This game is part of the Gameday XV convention, and will start on September 9.
If you signed up for this game, please dot and delete from this Gameplay thread, and then go to the Discussion thread.
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Standing before you is a male Dwarf who appears to be approaching his middle years. His green eyes are sharp, appearing not to miss a single detail. His hair is black as night with rings of various metals woven throughout and his beard is intricately braided with rings of varying metals decorating it and held together with a silver beard clasp. His full plate armor is highly polished but dinged and dented from years of adventure and exploration. A pair of golden eagles are etched onto the shoulders of his armor, looking the same as those of an Andoran Eagle Knight. Rhons' shield and ax are leaning up against a nearby table allowing you to easily note the holy symbol of Torag emblazoned upon the shield. Rhon holds a silver tankard in hand that he is gesturing to you with in greeting.
"Greetings one and all. I'm curious what could be of such importance to pull so many Seekers together."
A huge earth elemental stands just behind and to the left of Rhon.
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The scent of him arrives before he does — sun-warmed linen and crushed rose petals, out of place wherever you happen to be standing. Then the source: a broad-shouldered man with skin like burnished gold and hair to match, eyes the deep azure of a cloudless sky. An exquisite glaive rides across his back, and beneath a traveling cloak gleams silvery mail chased with gold filigree — armor built for a battlefield, worn like a festival garment. At his hip hangs a morningstar whose blackened iron head is shaped as a horned devil frozen mid-scream, an odd and violent note against the rest of him.
He spots your group and his face simply opens — no calculation in it, no wariness, just unguarded delight, as if he'd been hoping all day to find exactly this.
"Oh, how wonderful!" he says, closing the distance with both arms already spread. "Forgive me, I don't mean to intrude — but I do so hate to see new faces and let them stay strangers a moment longer than necessary."
He presses a hand to his chest and inclines his head, more warmth in the gesture than the formality strictly requires.
"Arcturus, Blessed of Shelyn, late of the temple and very much at your service. I confess I've only just arrived myself, so I couldn't tell you what fortune or misfortune brought each of you here — but I'd be glad to find out over a shared fire, or a shared fight, whichever comes first."
His smile doesn't dim in the slightest at that last possibility.
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You barely notice the elf descending from above. Even as she hovers just above the ground, her figure seems to blend effortlessly into her surroundings.
The white-haired elf is covered in tattoos of various kinds, clad in gleaming chainmail, with an exquisitely crafted scimitar hanging at her belt.
"Venture-Captain Linyi Rosenthal. Well met, Seekers." The elf gives each of you a small nod before turning to Rhon. "Always glad to have a fellow servant of the Forgefather at our side."
A small mechanical figure glides into view beside Linyi and holds position at her shoulder. It turns toward each of the assembled Seekers in sequence, then speaks in an even, metallic voice. Each word is clear and precisely measured, without a trace of inflection.
"My designation is Probe. I am an arbiter inevitable, bound to Venture-Captain Linyi Rosenthal as her familiar. I maintain her reference archives and provide analysis, identification, and translation."
It settles slightly closer to Linyi.
"These resources are also available to members of her expedition. You may address your inquiries to me directly. Where my information is incomplete, I will indicate the limits of my knowledge."
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Rhon inclines his head when addressed. "May the Forge Father keep us all safe this day."
"I carry several scrolls with me that may prove useful at some time during this mission. However, I am not able to make the magic work on my own. If one of you would be so kind as to use them when needed."
Rhon pulls several scrolls and a wand out.
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An Ifrit male mid 20s with eyes that look like they have seem much more than his years would allow. He is clad in mithral breastplate and buckler. He dismounts his frilled lizard mount and comes over to join the group.
" I am Zul and that is Frilly. Perhaps you have heard of our exploits in the Emerald Spire. I am an archer, follower of Erastil.
I am skilled in alchemy, dungeoneering, and spell craft, and killing things with my bow."
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To the people present, a herald presents: "Contessa Fiamma Estrema di Formaggio!". From behind him, a woman in simple gray clothes and Minatan conical hat steps forward.
She removes her hat, which turns into a comb as her clothes turn into a red dress with moving flame motifs. She quickly wraps her black hair into a bun, attaches the comb into it and finishes by sticking two wands in to hold the hairdo together. She has a clearly visible tattoo of the symbol of Sarenrae on the back of her hand. She looks mostly Tien to westerners, but there is something reminding of Taldan in her.
"I don't like the attention of the rabble I get in the streets", she explains her disguise. "And yes, that is my name. The old Grand Prince started to cuckoo a bit, and the last titles he sold were rather odd", she continues, with disinterested tone.
"Compassion is her virtue, but there are those who have no interest in redemption. That's when she sends me" she says, touching the tattoo. "It has been quite a while since I was last called. What could require me here now?" she asks, not expecting anyone to answer.
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Arcturus goes still, staring at Probe with open, childlike wonder.
"Oh, but you're marvelous," he breathes, drawn a step closer before catching himself. He glances to Linyi as if for permission, then back to the construct, crouching slightly to meet it at eye level.
"An inevitable, bound to a mortal soul by choice rather than compulsion. Shelyn would call you a poem — something built with such exquisite intention."
He clasps his hands behind his back, resisting the urge to touch.
"Tell me — does it please you, the keeping of archives? Or is 'please' simply the wrong word for what you are?"
He asks it in earnest, with the same fervent warmth he greets everyone.
Probe rotates to face Arcturus. A faint click precedes its reply.
"Query understood. Personal satisfaction is not a condition of service. The archives are required. Their maintenance is assigned to me. I therefore maintain them. Emotional response has no bearing on that sequence."
It holds position above Linyi's shoulder, its voice unchanged.
"A corresponding query, Arcturus. Suppose service to Shelyn yielded neither emotional fulfillment nor divine power. Would you continue that service?"
A measured pause.
"Would your obligation remain, or would the absence of reward constitute grounds for termination?"
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Arcturus blinks, the easy warmth draining from his face. He opens his mouth, closes it, tries again.
"I — no. It isn't a sequence."
He presses a hand briefly to his chest, over the holy symbol beneath his mail.
"Forgive me. I think I need a moment."
He straightens, offers Linyi a small, strained nod, and turns his attention pointedly elsewhere.
You are all in Absalom, near the Grand Lodge. You are worried, because a close friend or family member has recently disappeared. The only information you've been able to find is that they were last seen in a tavern, conversing with an attractive individual.
Suddenly, you are each contacted with a sending spell.
“I believe we share a common goal. I have information about the individual you seek. Meet me at midnight in the Dancing Lancer tavern.”
Probe initiates a database search for information on the Dancing Lancer tavern and the surrounding area.
After all, those who wander into a tavern unprepared often end up with their names carved on the Wall of Names.
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When receiving the message, Fiamma sighs. "Sounds like I have to get him out of some trouble. Again."
"Trap then or maybe even before. Better put on protections now than later", she says, takes a rod from her belt and casts several enchantments on herself.
"May as well go there early. I have nothing else to do and could pocket some money from overconfident card players to pass time."
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The sending arrives as a whisper, cutting through the low murmur of conversation among the group.
"I believe we share a common goal. I have information about the individual you seek. Meet me at midnight in the Dancing Lancer tavern."
His eyes snap open, the easy warmth of a moment ago gone entirely still. He glances around at his companions and sees the same thing settle over each of their faces in turn — that same startled quiet, that same private grief interrupted.
He'd spent the better part of three days walking Absalom's temple district asking after Seraphine — golden-haired like him, quick to laugh, utterly unsubtle about slipping out to meet whoever had caught her eye that season. He'd told himself it was nothing, that his little sister was simply being his little sister.
He looks around the circle of faces — all of them waiting on someone, all of them carrying the same fear he is.
"Midnight, then," he says, low, already certain the others heard the very same words. "It seems we're not the only ones missing someone."
At the appointedyou time, meet a man in an eyeless, red leather mask who motions for you to sit down before speaking in a hushed voice that sounds as though it might be disguised with magic.
“I apologize for my rudeness in contacting you so suddenly and briefly, and thank you for meeting me here. I cannot tell you my name, for I am a member of the Decemvirate, and my ability to guide the Pathfinder Society hinges on my anonymity. What is doubtlessly more important to you than my name is how I can help you. In recent months, I have been investigating the disappearance of a high-ranking Pathfinder agent named Osprey, and have discovered a series of similar disappearances throughout the Inner Sea region, all of which occurred under similar circumstances. In each case, the missing person was last seen with an attractive stranger, and appeared to be rapt with the new acquaintance’s beauty and charm. Reports in most cases place the missing individual in the company of the same stranger in the Nirmathi city of Skelt, from whence the party is said to have traveled south toward a recently active volcanic ridge called the Growling Skald. Your missing friend is among those whose disappearance matches this pattern. Our divinations have located several of those who vanished on the moon. Long have reports spoken of a demon-tainted jungle on the surface of the moon—what we on Golarion see as the Moonscar. It is there that I believe those abducted have been taken, though for what sinister succubus plot I know not. Few have the means to venture into such a realm, which is why I am here, now, with you. There is little I can offer you beyond pointing you in what I hope is the right direction. Yet if you can find a way to the Moonscar and retrieve not only my missing agent and your friend, but any other captives of the demons there, then my faith in you has not been misguided. Whatever plan the Moonscar’s Insatiable Queen and her servants have in the works, it has sped up drastically, and I fear for us all should they not be stopped.”
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"Osprey too? So, the rumors are true afterall, that there are demons on the Moon. This sounds very......lunatic." Linyi sighs, "It wounldn't be unreasonable to assume those beautiful individuals are succubus, or whatever charming demonkind they also have out there. To bad demon are immune to our shocking presence."
She turns to Probe, "What are our options?"
"Initiating new query......"
Any questions or any shopping? If not, how do you proceed?
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Linyi will asks the Decemvirate whether they expect us to hike up there, or they have teleportation service ready for us?
"Drandle Dreng is probably still up by this hour, about time he start waking people up and giving them missions anyway. Have the old man fetch us some teleportation-capable wizard Pathfinders?"
On the eastern rim of the Mindspin Mountains in what most would call Nirmathas—though few would wage war over such desolate, uninhabited borders—stands the Growling Skald, an isolated volcanic ridge averaging 11,000 feet in elevation. The geological formation earned its name from its periodic rumbling, though it otherwise remains inactive, and local legend claims the mountain holds within it the restless spirit of a powerful giant who tells his tale one slow syllable at a time. Few take more than a passing interest in the ridge; its stone faces are barren, and the tree line ranges at a far lower elevation than normal, ending abruptly on the southern bank of the Shining River, so it holds no draw for Nirmathas’s many lumberers.
There are rumors that in ages past, when the reach and influence of Azlant spread into the Inner Sea region, a society of Azlanti astronomers used this area of restrained volcanic activity as a center of study, harnessing the powers of Golarion’s core to interact with the heavens. Further rumors tell of arcane astronomical outposts which have lain buried beneath stone and compressed ash for millennia.
There has been a recent increase in seismic activity in the area, and it is possible some ancient ruins have been exposed by this activity.
Lore tells of a powerful, ancient succubus named Izmiara the Insatiable Queen. She has ruled a realm on the moon for over 12,000 years, plotting to take over Golarion.
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Assuming we travel there by mundane mean, which means days of travel, Linyi will take the chance to put up some spells that last 30 hours or more after being extended, and plan them out ahead of time and cast them the night before so that they are runnning when we arrive The Growling Skald.
Overland Flight, Revenant Armor, Greater Magic Weapon+4, Phantom Steed, Ablative Barrier, and many Secluded Grimoire.
Linyi will be flying and scout from height.
The team journeys to the Growling Scald, and finds that recent seismic activity has indeed revealed some Azlanti ruins and artifacts. One of these is a deep chasm over magma. Stretching across the magma, deep in the crevice, is a narrow bridge. At the end of the bridge is a circular portal filled with swirling purple patterns. You are certain it will take you to the moon.