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"See, thi' i' th' kind' thin' tha' T'r'ch 's tryin' t' pr'v'n' fr'm 'pp'nin'. G'ss go'a get m' kid t' ge' ba' t' it. 'ndo b'r b' 'ppy 'bou' th'." Translation: "The illustrious Grand Master Torch was making a dedicated effort in this regard as well. It would seem I need to ask my offspring to take up the torch and get back to the work. I wonder if Eando will appreciate that."
Gerbins? I hadn't heard that term before, but I'm a librarian. I looked it up! And here th' bird 's tryin' t' be all fancy-schmancy an' stuff talkin' an' not conveyin' what they're tryin' t' say an' all. "Gob'ins!"
Huh. We should be heading into autumn now, but I still hear an awful lot of mosquitoes buzzing around us. Weird. "Them ain' sk't'rs! They's 'tirges!" Translation: "It would appear that the terminology of insect is not entirely appropriate, as they are closer to aberrations than natural."
Yes, but who will carry the Torch? "Th' Gr'm'st' d'n n' t' b' carr' n'm'r! 'e g't b't'r! Translation:
"The 'Grandmaster' Torch no longer needs to be carried in a tub, as his ailment was cured as of last record." "An Cay'en C'l'n 'd s'ppr' th' fr'd'm 'f th' w'rk'r!" Translation:
"Also, the Drunken Hero would firmly support the endeavor of the writer-Entities to pull together as a community and stand up for the downtrodden"
Leshy are free these days as far as ACP are concerned, so no new races until you finish your greens (i.e. reach level 20)Alas, the greens will be brown and shriveled in the beer crisper before that happens. "W'all, tha's ya mista'! Pu'n em in th' gr'n b'x! M'be st' th'm 'n a 'vers'ck" Translation: "The container for the storage of the sacred beverage of the Drunken Hero is a less than optimal location for the placement of greens long-term. One would be better served by keeping them in a location that does not have a fermentation process. Has one considered a Haversack?"
"'ll go big 'f i' 'elps th' par'y, bu' i' 'ar' t' 'efen' tha'". 'lso, HI BOL'!" Translation: "While being 'enlarged' has some definite tactical advantages, the overall benefit of 'offense' over defense tends to mitigate the efforts I make to protect myself, so it is a situational circumstance that at best comes up rarely."
"Y'all b' spea'n so' for'n lang'age.... an' ah be know'n m' lang'ages! Y' sur' y' wanna be doi' tha'?" Translation: "It would seem that your dialect is thick enough that your consonants have appeared to turn your speech into an actual language of it's own. As a Scarab Sage who prides themselves on the discovery of new languages this intrigues me, but also raises concerns that ones fellow Pathfinders may find it necessary to use resources to understand one."
"Y'kn' how har' i' 's t' ge' th' r'ral die-lect goin' an' sti' ha' fol's wha' unnersta' ya?" Translation from the backcountryese: "It is exceedingly difficult to convey complex concepts to individuals while hampered by a linguistic and educational background that does not support such things. Remaining true to one's roots while doing this is quite the challenge."
"Hav' t' say, Sierra's a top-notch heala' an' I woul'n't've mad' i' through wi'out 'er 'elp." Noqual Sage Agraic's commentary and liner notes: "I wasn' gonna go again' th' man tha' saw I had potential WAY back in Sothis, an' I was ready t' toss th' rules 'f the Society out th' window if'n it came t' savin' his life. Thankfully, it didn' come to tha', though I DID call 'im on it as did a couple of other members of our team that instead 'f runnin' off after causin' a shi-storm tha' he should be FIXIN' th' mess he made, and come what may, be th' better person abou' it.
Unfortun'tly, we ha' a person who'd been burnt by the fires that Torch'd set, and they weren' willin' to le' it go, e'en after th' Emerald Sage left pretty much everything he had on him on the ground and offered himself up to be executed straight out of hand. I couldn' do that, an' I don't think most of our team was keen on the idea either. And I would've died to protect him. Then Eliza showed up. And we asked her some serious hard questions about things, and as I'd done some missions for her in the past, I asked her if she'd thought it'd do any good if someone took up th' helm, fill in th' gaps as it were. Her response was an honest one, and as we were sitting and talking it occured to me. I've been what folks would call a 'success story' for the Pathfinder Society -- I started out uneducated, ignorant, and willing to beat on whatever folks wanted me to beat on. But I'd also been out on FAR too many missions where we didn't get the support we needed, or where we'd make what we felt was the 'right' call for the situation only to get crapped on by either our superiors or their superiors. So I did that dangerous thing, y'know, 'thinking'. If'n there was someone who was sittin' there an' making dam' sure tha' the agents NEVER go' hosed like Torch, or me, or any of a number of other folks, then that'd be the legacy 'f th' work tha' th' Gran'master was bringin' all along. Or in other words, if those of us who said we wanted Torch t' 'man up' an' clean up his messes weren't willin' to do the same, then we'd all be effin' hypocrites. It's an obligation t' make it right, though there's always a few ways about it."
"Who sa' tha' they needed t' be uni'? Y'all nee' a dri' t' hel' li'en u'. Ale? Fresh fr' a keg I ju' brewed!" Translation: "There was no indication at the time of ascension to being a Sage of the necessity of having a unique gem. In fact, given the relative lack of infinite variety, it should be considered more likely that there will be duplication. Such duplication more than likely happened at earlier times, as well. That being said, this discussion is rather counter-productive to the good keepings of being a family. Let us all have libation together in our way that we may grow closer. I happen to have a nice country ale that I have been refining the past few months that I think would fit the bill quite nicely. Would anyone care to partake?"
Name: Agraic , the Noqual Sage
Description: This weathered half-elf looks like he's been run over by the Cart of Life a half-dozen times, each time followed by it backing up to make sure that the job was well and done. DESPITE that, he has a generally optimistic demeanor about him. Over his shoulder rides an adamantine polearm Spoiler: of dubious construction, seemingly tied together with rope, glue, and cloth. His armor, in sharp and biting contrast to the worn and aged weapon and above noted occupant is the most brilliant of mithril plate armors, designed along ancient elven lines.
horsechopper Complementing the armor on his right hip rides a silver tankard, lovingly crafted in stylings and wisdom of The Drunken Hero, and on his left is a dagger. Introduction:
"Howdy! I'm'a 'graic. Wai' a sec', tha's a bi' so'." he pauses for a moment, pulling out a keg from his bag and setting it down on a stand, while pulling some mugs out for folks. "As I was sayin', I'm Agraic. Praise be t' th' Drunken Hero and if y' wan' some 'f this, feel free, it's my latest batch." He pauses to take a sip. "I'm th' Noqual Sage 'f the Scarab Sages, a genuine Ossirionoligister and Thassilonianist. No, I know those aren't words what most folks don't recognize-like, so I'll prune it back... I know history and not just in Ossirion. But 'nough 'bout myself, I hope y'all have been having a good time 'f it and if y'need my help wi' somethin', le' me know, a'ight?" Background/story: Agraic was found battered and bruised within a few inches of his life by parties unknown about five years ago by members of the Grand Lodge. To repay his debt, he signed on, and then had the fateful chance to travel to Ossirion, and meet possibly the MOST controversial member of the Pathfinder Society -- who was the first person to treat Agraic as a *person* and not an 'attitude with a stick'.
This prompted the Caydenite to start actually thinking of himself as smart, and if not educated, at least wise enough to ASK questions, and not be afraid to make mistakes. During the course of the missions to Ossirion he managed to briefly touch divinity, or as close to it as he imagines he'll ever be able to, and that solidly affirmed his resolve to be a Sage, should the means become available. During the fight to reclaim the Sages, he died twice, and he bears no regret about the choices he made or what happened. He's hoping that he can be an example to the folks who focus on armaments at the cost of intellect that the choice doesn't have to be a permanent or lasting one.
"Mister Kasadei, there were records of deliveries to Shelia Heidmarch and others that described 'wine'. Whether that's some fancy work-round for poison, or explosives or whatnot, everyone listed should be warned to be on their guard for unusual circumstances -- I mean, it'd be fine and dandy and all if we managed to nail Sloane, but his last middle finger was to kill off a bunch of innocent folks here in Magnimar." Agraic offers, as he shifts his Glammered armor back to something far better looking, and offering help with loading/finishing up. "Also, if it comes up that we need to replace locks damaged during the course of the investigation, let me know. I'll help foot the bill if it's necessary." ...and yes, the typically uncouth and drunken barbarian 'sot' is speaking with what appears to be an approximation of Taldan atm.
"You probably don't think any of this is important, being old news and all that. That's the problem with the Consortium, Mister Sloane. The incessant focus on bottom line and market domination as well as elimination of rivals puts them at a disadvantage. Instead of *reading* the history that's uncovered, the organization is built on the premise of being high-priced middle-people -- instead of say, true scholars that would understand the significance of a powerful performance in the proper context." Agraic pauses for a moment then laughs, a deep rumbling gut laugh. "Confirmation? What's that? Oh, the rubber-stamp for schooling? I guess? I earned my scars both on the field of battle and on various jobs. It's how I'm starting to see through you, and don't think for a second that just because I *appear* dumb and sound a bit stupid that I am. I've been burnt by more manipulators than you can possibly imagine, and I'm tired of dancing to that tune -- but apparently you aren't." Agraic pauses *just* long enough for Sloane to start talking, then gets the siege engine rolling again. "Enjoy your happy benighted little life adventure -- I hear they have a SPECIAL prison cell for folks who plunder the local history. Right next to the folks who do unsavory things to children and the folks who perform all the necromancy. I mean, at this point the best you could hope for is being just a common thief mixed in with the rest of the sort. It's not like you're important or anything, after all, heads of houses can be swapped out at whims of management."
"Y'know, I've been thinking about it. You're confident. Yet why is it with someone 'on the inside' that we're having this conversation? We wouldn't even be at this juncture if your 'person' was reliable. So either you're full of bull excrement or you're onto something . Something that'd screw over not only our people but also yours. So the bigger question is, are you willing to go to the mat for someone who's going to sell out both our groups to push their own agenda? Someone obviously wanted all of us to get screwed with all this attention. These things aren't independent acts, are they?" Agraic inquires after taking a moment or two to think things through.
"It's also pretty ballsy -- almost Caydenite speaking as one -- to wear the stuff your people acquired from an ancient digsite openly, expecting the local authorities to NOT realize what you're wearing. Now I'm not a magistrate, nor am I an Usher, but I'm pretty sure that your superiors probably aren't too keen on your parading your incompetence around like that... are they?" Agraic opines, after taking a few moments to consider Sloan's garb.
"Alright. Since you asked kindly enough we'll lay it out to you straight. We're here to test the security -- you failed.. Where's the antidote you're going to hold over the Pathfinder and associate heads to force concessions out of them? You DID think of that contingency, right? What kind of ignorant dullard just shoves poison out there as a one-off and not as leverage?" Agraic peers at Sloan intently, waiting for a response and squinting a bit.
" 'owdy! 'f y' a part' t' th' workin's 'ere, the' we'll nee' y' t' come wi' us quie'l'y f'r ques'in'in in regar's all kin's 'f Mag'mar law. Are y' a par' t' thi'?" the Caydenite inquires with a bit of an unseen quirk behind his rusty nasty armor faceplate. "Sugges' y' ste' awa' an' le' thin's set'l 'emsel' ou'. STRONGLY."
Provided the chests are not bolted to the floor, Agraic is willing to grab one of them and help move it. The statue? Not so much. "T' quo' m' bu'y 'quarius... Time to geeteeffoh!' Agraic notes, agreeing with Athalis' assessment and hoping that there's enough info for what the Society and the other folks need. He'll also off-handedly point out pissed-off passed out half-elf woman might be important to bring along as well...
Next few rounds of actions...: Agraic blinks at the clerks and scoffs. "Y'ain' ge'in pai' nearl' 'nou' f'r thi'. Getch'r bu's ou'a 'ere." he offers politely, then does the seemingly unthinkable and:
Stops! Drops! and Rolls! all over the burning papers to put them out while either offering that strange pidgen he's speaking in or offering praises to Cayden Cailean in Aklo... it's not clear which would be more accurate at this point.
One Possibility...:
Agraic is a Relic Guardian: Your stewardship of historical treasures inspires you to act quickly to save such relics from destruction. Once per scenario, when an unattended object within your reach is targeted by an offensive spell, attack, or effect, you can treat that object as though it were in your possession for the purpose of attempting saving throws and resisting sunder attempts. If an opponent succeeds at a combat maneuver check to sunder an object in your possession, you can cross this boon off your Chronicle sheet to force the creature to reroll the attack with a -5 penalty PFS #6-04 Second Possibility...: Agraic DID state at the start of this phase of the mission that he really, really needed to 'go'. Willing to take an armor penalty (and potentially AoO) to reflect a move action of adjusting armor to do so, and letting the sacred blessings of Cayden flow forth to end the impending conflagration....
" 'tume, Thok, go bail out th' others as quick as you can, sounds like they're gettin' mur'red up th'." If 'last' room on South is unlocked:
Agraic moves forward and opens the door to discover what is in the remaining room. The Caydenite then opens the remaining door to discover what is in the remaining room here, and if anything portable and damning to hold as evidence against the Bronze House, the Aspis is available. If 'last' room on South is locked(2 Rounds of Actions): Agraic moves forwards, tests the door, finds it locked, backs up, takes a couple of mighty swings at the locking mechanism once the party members have cleared out.
[ooc]First Round: Move action to move up, Perception to check the door. Second Round: Declared action 5' step back and Adamantine Horsechopper the crud outta the lock.
"Secr' d'r ov' tha'. " Agraic mentions, then looks at the note intently. Why would they put a note on something saying it was all legal-like if they have it in a secret room? Is the note actually real or a safeguard to prevent folks from stealing it?
"Dunno why they'd hide their best stuff in here, but the note seems legit f'r affidavit? Maybe th' circumstances behind it are wrong or something?" There's a bit of a pause. "Anyone good wi' alc'm' t' know w' th' vials are? Sare' ain' 'ere, or 'e'd know."
The Caydenite was about to use his own form of key on the door when Thok handles it. Agraic gives a bit of a shrug as he squints and looks over the room warily. "Now wh' woul' th' clos' all th' ches's? So'in ain' righ' 'ere, be carefu'."
GM: Agraic HAS encountered a mimic before, in Risen From The Sands That is foremost on his mind at the moment, because it'd be the perfect guard for a trove like this.
Agraic's been largely quiet this whole time, trying to be the 'muscle' and not the 'mouth'. He's also been sipping from his waterskin and his keg of ale when it wouldn't raise an issue. That, unfortunately, does raise a concern. "Um, excu' m' suh. Nee' t' use th' can. Where i' a'? I don' wa' pi' all o'er th' goo' stu' becau' tha' one pers' i' scar'!"
"Dunn' 'bou' y', bu' tha' back entrance by th' park an' gate seems... easy 'nough?" Agraic offers. 'less you're hear'-set on a stupi' fron'al charge an' all?" the half-elf finally offers, assessing the situation. "Wish we c'd ge' an' maps 'f th' sewers -- worri'd tha' they migh' try to sneak stuff ou' tha' way."
"'ell, 'e go' a non-zer' cha' tha' th' gno' bee' back an' repor'd. 'f we wai' t' long an' try t' ge' in at nigh', 'e're 'runnin' a ris' tha' they dump'd all th' stuff. Pl's 'llusionis'. means we're gonna be' facin' thin's li' the ruins basemen'. Wi' them no' res'd, our chances 'f gettin' nail'd wi' the' cra' they pull'd on us thar is slimmer, righ'?" Agraic opines, giving this some thought. Translation:
The brusque brawny fellow recovers from his laughter and takes a gander about the room, to attempt to determine what other objects may have been hidden behind clever illusions or the like. "Migh'a fou' so'thi'." he offers, pointing any areas of interest to the rest of the team before heading up to his drinking buddy upstairs. "Chauncey! Chauncey! Y'r pres'n f'r a mir'cl!" Agraic offers excitedly. "Th' Man 'imsel' jus' visi'd me an' tol' me t' ligh'en up an' be a g'd per'n t' folks!" ...admittedly, the miraculous nature of the situation may be overstated, but not by the earnest ramblings of Agraic. " 'e t'rned some ale ro'en, the' tol' a grea' joke t' ge' me to ligh'en' up! I would'na 'ad tha' chance if'n i' weren' f'r you!"
"'ey lawma', c'n we ge' a g'd wor' f'r Chauncey as 'e doin' wha' is righ?" Agraic offers with bluster and resolve befitting the Drunken Hero. Translation to Taldan/Common:
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