Archimeles's page

Chandu sighs at the persistent Sphinx. Many different things could be the answe to so broad a riddle but I suppose the answer, here, is liable to be a wayfinder. Everyone does have a wayfinder dont they... she asks, looking at the group.

"I don't." sniffs a passing man in a white toga as if affronted by the idea.

Hello! I am not sure if this is a recruiting page or this is just asking for already chosen players’ details!? ;-)

"Oh this is a recruitment alright. It is a super secret recruitment for philosopher aesthetics only. Only the enlightened have the feats necessary to grapple with (or pummel) the great problems of our day. Hey! You girl! What are you doing here? This isn't wet toga night! What are you doing here? Well, just because you are 6'3" and have a trained, attack badger I'll let you stay--this time, but you'll have to come up with an aphorism or two that you can sell for coin. And try to look a bit more platonic will you."

Anyone between levels 1 and 5 is welcome to join, regardless of what Archimeles says.

Shrine to Mounting Joy

"Are you ladies here for wet toga night by any chance?" Asks one of the men.

After a few introductions the man--Archimeles and a few other sages including Didactylos (a homeless man with a dog who insists on carrying a lantern about even though there's plenty of light), and Ibid (a bit of know-it-all worse than Archimeles) gather round the women to discuss their question and the possible philosophical ramifications of answering them.

"Whatever this nuckelavee thing is sounds like it might be one of those agents of 'divine retribution'."

"It only stands to reason that where there's sacrifice, there's someone collecting the sacrificial offerings. Where there's service, there is someone being served. The man who speaks to you of sacrifice is speaking of slaves and masters, and intends to be the master. But you my friends have the opportunity to be your own masters! Join our great Mayor Teag (may he climb forever) in climbing the 31 Steps. Just 31 Steps to fulfill your dreams! 31 Steps that will lead you to success and wealth beyond your wildest imaginings! Learn the mysteries, and secret ways of great Razmir from one of his most honored, and ascend to your best incarnation!" Preaches the man in a white toga on the tavern stage.

*Sniff* "You need only look at them to see the level of their depravity."

"And everything! Really, how dim are you?"

He also enquires over the next few hours as to the location of Folloch Teag (may he climb forever)'s office/lodging/etc.

"Well the mayor's house of course. Though he often lodges with those in need of additional instruction."

"It only stands to reason that where there's sacrifice, there's someone collecting the sacrificial offerings. Where there's service, there is someone being served. The man who speaks to you of sacrifice is speaking of slaves and masters, and intends to be the master. But you my friends have the opportunity to be your own masters! Join our great Mayor Teag (may he climb forever) in climbing the 31 Steps. Just 31 Steps to fulfill your dreams! 31 Steps that will lead you to success and wealth beyond your wildest imaginings! Learn the mysteries, and secret ways of great Razmir from one of his most honored, and ascend to your best incarnation!" Shouts the man in a white toga on the tavern stage.

"Oh that's a good one! Is that yours? 'Well begun is half done'? You could get some serious coin for that at the Academy. I'd be there now but there still cleaning up from last night's wet toga contest." Says an interested professorial man in a white robe, and sandals. "Archimeles is the name. Philosophy is the game. 'Aphorisms for Anything', for a reasonable coin of course."

Having acquired a brightly colored shirt over his toga, dark glasses, cocoa nut with a straw sticking out of its top, and a tan, Archimeles arrives with his luggage. "Well, I'm back from the symposium. Did I miss anything?"

Meanwhile, laying out in a spa, under a layer of alchemical face-cream and a pair of cucumber slices, in a fluffy white terry robe, Archimeles ponders the great mysteries.

"I wonder how the others are getting on without my stoic leadership skills. Oh! Hey! Tonight is dance night! Perhaps I can persuade hot little oracle to come with tonight."

"Dumdee dumdee dumdee do." Archimeles wanders casually through the scene.

WHACK! (measuring rod/club): 1d20 ⇒ 11 damage: 1d6 ⇒ 3

Archimeles draws his heavy gauge, 29.6 cm measuring rod and moves forward. "Oh my stars and garters!"

There's no dust?

knowledge (arcana): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

"No doubt it is a platonic flame. To have existed in a sealed room for however long it would have to be. Mr. Hantwell you did not see any tracks coming in did you?"

"Had."

"It's a reference to a book a drinking companion of mine authored. He was a regular at the Academy, until...." The philosopher's voice trails off.

"Well it is hardly quality work. Let's hope there is not another 'Cask of Amontillado' at its terminus."

"Well I would have said ladies first but...." Archimeles says dryly. "Light?"

"Miss Saint-Germaine, there is a lady present...."

Lizbeth gives a dignified titter of her own to her friend's joke, looking slyly at Archimeles as the two tease the man.

"Well, cute is a word for it I suppose, though I thought him much maturer than that. Hmm speaking the word didn't help, let us try the nameplate as the coin suggested."

getting out her roll of tools should they prove necessary, Lizbeth begins to fiddle with the nameplate to see if there is a way to remove it.

"I stand corrected." Archimeles says meaningfully to Lizbeth.

Kara playfully feigns helplessness.

Well, I've tried several times and I just can't get it. Archimeles, dear, would you be so kind as to do the honors?

She steps aside with an exaggerated bow.

The philosopher takes the chalk. He rolls his eyes and sighs. "I suppose there is only one appropriate response...."

WIFFLE. He writes.

"Miss Saint-Germaine, there is a lady present. Oh, what sad times are these when passing ruffians can say 'wiffle' at will to anyone. There is a pestilence upon this land, nothing is sacred."

"I beg your pardon?" Archimeles says in a scandalized tone.

"Blast! I'm missing the Test. I've got a philosopher's wager in it. All this fuss over a barely tepid Port that probably smells more of cheese than the cheese you'd serve with it."

Back to the cemetary wall.

Tally ho, gentlecreatures!

"We should head to Plokkis's tomb rather than the wall I think. There will be a hidden door for which we have a now have a verbal key. The wall is just a list of etched names--no room for what I think we are looking for."

"Ha! Look at this." Archimeles holds up a headline: LORD DEWEY DEFEATS LORD GYR!!

@Kara: Whoops! I should have checked the map...

Lizbeth finds several items of interest in the last room. Firstly a note apparently written by Fimbrik handout added. Under the first note, she finds a second one in the same handwriting with a single name on it: Doulgonlir Caskmail. Lastly, she finds two potions on the windowsill.

"Jinkies." Archimeles says solemnly.

"HELLO!"

Archimeles takes his time and looks about. Takes 20 for 24.

Archimeles opens the doors between the bedroom and the main hall.

At work, so limited posting, but on his turn he moves toward the commotion.

"Just remember, they are probably as frightened of you as you are of them!"

Advice +1 morale bonus on saving throws against charm and fear effects and a +1 competence bonus on attack and weapon damage rolls.

"Or nearly so at any rate."

Archimeles climbs through the window and has a look around.

perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

"Actually, me might want to see what the illusionist added first. I would suggest visiting this Fimbrik first."

"But they've got gelatinous cube-let shots at--. Oh nevermind."

"There is only one good--knowledge, and one evil--ignorance." Says Archimeles slightly contemptuous of all the unquestioning religious dogma in the vicinity.

Unheeding of such undefined concepts as 'personal space' Achimeles draws in close to examine Kara's prize.

knowledge (one of the above?): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15

"Of course not sir.... Oh my goodness!" Archimeles looks up at the entry way as if seeing a ghost. "Is that Elvish?"

bluff (distraction): 1d20 ⇒ 6

"Jinkies." Archimeles says in a disinterested tone. He moves to pluck it from its resting place and then stops and says "Does anyone have a placeholder?"

He pats his toga meaningfully.

My bad I passed over it on my phone. Read what you need. Gotta fly--again.

There might not be a DC - I was just being proactive in an Archimeles sort of way. Gotta run right now.

"Terrible grammar. So much for 'the good old days.'"

Archimeles bends his mind to the cypher before him.

knowledge (engineering - stonework): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

knowledge (history - of the deceased): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

knowledge (local - of the deceased): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

"Like what?"

Raising her right eyebrow, Lizbeth stares at Archimeles admonishingly, woth a sigh she fills the man in.

"Whilst you were getting drunk with the Half Orc 'Philosophers' upstairs, we have found out that the exact bottle Dreng wanted is in fact a lever to a secret room, upon our new companion entering, he was struck down by the gray creature you see lying in it's own Ichor. Now that you are here, let us examine the paperwork we have found eh?"

"Can you drink it then? The bottle, not the paperwork of course."

"Is that all?" Archimeles snorts. "What vintage?"

"Whadyemiss!" says the philosopher rounding the corner.

Archimeles wrote:

"Just scream as if undead horrors were chasing you through a dark, confined space if you need me."

- YYYAAAARRRHHHH!!!!!

"Oh I'm sorry. Grog was it? It seems I've a call. Please excuse me."

At the bar the bartender shrugs at Archimeles' mention of philosophers.

"We get all sorts around here. It's part of the routine when most of the clientele are pathfinders. I'd wager that there's been a philosopher in here before."

"Hmm. I don't know. I would expect more nicked crockery and patches to the place. Philosophers can get quite rowdy when arguing their points."

"So your Dreng's messengers, eh? You'd better follow me down into the wine cellar then."

This leads Archimeles to do a little thought experiment: How many Pathfinders does it take to collect a parcel? Five should be more than sufficient.

"Just scream as if undead horrors were chasing you through a dark, confined space if you need me."

He wanders over to the half-orcs' table and sits down with a beer. "You lads seem to be physicalists what say you about the multiple observers argument, that the existence of a physical being may imply zero or more distinct conscious entities?"

The barmaid looks down at the grey gnome and smiles.

"Well, the newest crop af agents just get's weirder and weirder don't they?"

"I should say." Archimeles says, settling in beside them up against the bar, and looking critically at the people he walked in with.

"Heryn is busy right now, but I'll let her know that you're looking for her."

"Very good." Then after a moment's reflection adds, "You don't get many philosophers in here do you?"

Archimeles orders a pint and discusses the practicalities of acceleration, force and momentum with anyone who gets too close. He is not at all happy about missing Platonic Wet Toga Night.

"Perhaps you could refrain from throwing your money away and invest in education. It takes a lot of food to power a brain such as mine." Archimeles says. "Look, the Wisp is not far away from the Academy Pub. If were quick we can stop by in time for Platonic Wet Toga Night."

"Xin Xin, Tian. Hmm? You wouldn't happen to know Diogenes of Zelshabbar, would you? He owes me 20 gp."

"I am aquiver in anticipation." Archimeles says dryly with his arms folded. ;)