Ben Goshey Hojoin's page

A dark haired Chellaxian man in rather mismatched armor approaches the back table. He nods to the Pharasmin and then turns to the man. He clearly wears a holy symbol of Abdar around his neck.

"Excuse me, I was told there was some sort of commiseration of some sort for injustices suffered from-ah, the sign, yes, yes I see this is the place. May I?"

His manner is rather jovial and well-meaning as he takes a seat.

"Well, let's see. My first real issue with Dreng was that he assigned me as a field agent at all. I was supposed to work in the legal department you see . . . I'm a paralegal by trade. But Mr. Dreng 'accidentally' misfiled my papers as a field agent. What's worse I've submitted countless requests to have the issue cleared up, but they never seem to go through. Why, it's just terrible."

"Oh, excuse me, where ARE my manners? My name's Ben. Ben Hojoin."

He reaches out his hand for a friendly handshake.

A Chellish man with shoulder-length black hair, wearing a rather haphazard suit of heavy armor and no visible weapons approaches. He bears a holy symbol of Abadar on his vest.

"I apologize, I could not help but overhear. It is a strange moral quandary you pose. On the one hand, Abadar is the god of laws, on the other, he does not hold laws as immutable.

If one of these . . . vigilante types . . . were to act in the name of Abadar, I suppose it would have to be from the point of view of the Paladin Code of Abadar. I personally am not restricted to it, being a humble paralegal, but I do strive towards it.

First, the code says protect the weak and innocent, by teaching them to fight for themselves, and stepping in where they cannot.

Second, it says to respect lawful authority. So, if this proposed vigilante were to earn the respect of the city guard, and work with them, I suppose that would help.

Stop corruption in the courts, stop banditry, ensure equitable trade in the markets . . . these are all things the Abadaran Paladin must strive for. I see no contradiction in this by doing it from the shadows. It is a fine line one would have to tread, but not an impossible one."

Ben takes the documents and places them in a folder before putting them in his backpack.

"Arigato, Saguchi-san" he says in Tien, with a hint of a Sly smile on his face.

"And please, I am a mere paralegal, not worthy of the accolades of the title 'dono' from anyone. Well, I thank you so much for clearing up the paperwork. And let me just say I am deeply saddened to hear about that story. Sometimes our business is not a fun one.

Why, I remember one of my first adventures. . .

Spoiler for 7-01:

I was sent to help a venture captain do some business work for a while, clear up some contracts, that sort of thing. After all was said and done, we retrieved an artifact for her. We helped her use it, and that's when everything went wrong. I later found out we entered some sort of 'mindscape' or something, but at the time, we thought the universe lost it's mind. Up was down, there were monsters that weren't really there, nothing made any semblance of sense. The laws of reality were. . . Just wrong"

Ben takes a long breath to recover from remembering the experience that was obviously traumatic for him.

"Everything worked out fine in the end but, well, living through it was quite the ordeal."

"Ah. His name is Daikyou." As Malani said. She muses over the name of the black panther. Her familiar craws and shifts itself while being held. "Alright Mala. I'll let you down" She looks at the Oread as she puts the compsognathus on the floor"Such creatures are quite strong willed. Aren't they. Though they will be by our side for nearly anything." She taps the little dinosaur on the head, which causes it to squeak. "Can't rightly use the restroom with around though! Hehe..." Malani giggles at her own joke.

Though later on she notices that the Oread is filling out paperwork. "I did not notice your business. My apologies. I have to admit that filling out such paperwork is tedious. And boring. But a understandable evil. Though it is easier to get people who can read to do something when you hand them a piece of paper with orders from their own higher ranking people."

The Chellaxian priest of Abadar tries to suppress a look of annoyance on his face for the off-hand insult.

"Ahem, yes, while I can understand not being a fan of paperwork, is is hardly evil. It ensures that civilization runs smoothly. While some certainly twist it to nefarious purposes, the true reason for paperwork is so that every part of society can work together as a whole easily. After all, when we have everything working together in its proper order, we can accomplish great things together. If we don't know what each other is doing? Not so much. Abadar teaches us this.

"That being said, yes, the repetitiveness can get . . . excessive sometimes. But no system is perfect. Small price to pay for getting everyone on the same page, right?"

1. Why are you a Pathfinder?

2. Do you have a name and surname that is not ripped straight out of existing Earth mythology or popular culture?

3. Which nation did you grow up in? How did this nation influence you?

4. What do you look like? What are your wearing? How does this vary when you’re stalking through forests, sewers, deserts or in glittering cities?

5. What do you love? (Treasure and experience doesn’t count)

6. What do you hate? (Unclear and irritating darkness level rules don’t count)

7. Which other Pathfinders (PCs) do you rely on for teamwork, survival and butt-kicking? Do you have a bro? a mentor? a father figure? maybe a rival?

8. How does your race influence your views? Are you a stereotype of a certain race? How are you different from most humans/elves/gnomes/orcs/tengu?

9. What are you afraid of? Do you have any phobias or worries?

10. What is your most treasured possession?

~ ~ ~

Go crazy guys! Really interesting in hearing how people tackle these.

1) Well, see, I originally signed up as a legal aide for the pathfinder society, but somehow my paperwork got misfiled by a "Drendle Dreng" and I was classified as a field agent. Trying to get it fixed has been a nightmare!

2) (((Technically, yes, though it is a pun. Bengoshihojo-in is Japanese for Paralegal)))
3) I grew up in Chelliax. I was always fond of the laws and order that the land provided, but the upper eschelons of power exploited loopholes (following the rule and not the intent of the law) too readily for my own taste, so I decided to go to Abdar instead of Asmodeus.
4) I am 5'10", with shoulder-length black hair, and a robe underneath my rather haphazard armor. I'd prefer more appropriate armor, but I found this suit on an adventure and it's just so comfortable!
5) Well, of course I love Abadar. After that, I love helping people, using the law and civilization to get people to accomplish more than what they could alone.
6) Well, I try not to hate. Too negative. I suppose I am really not fond of banditry, and people exploiting loopholes in the law. The law is there to help people, not to be used as a weapon against the poor.
7) Well, Lakuna, the head barrister of the legal department, is a good friend and mentor, helped me through the troubling transition from paralegal to pathfinder.
8) Well, I know Chellaxians can be a bit human-centered, but I was raised in an abbey. Way I see it, laws are meant to bring all races together into a civilized whole, so I try not to be as racist as some of my countrymen.
9)After a certain adventure, I do eye shrubbery suspiciously. I used to be very worried about being a field agent, but after it was pointed out to me that I am doing Abadar's will, I have learned not to be quite as afraid anymore.
10) Without a doubt, it is my mithral iron brush gifted to me from Lord Eckheart Henderthane after I left his employ for the pathfinder society. A great token of his appreciation. I've even had it enchanted so that it will never dull or rust!

Sakuchi expresion changes to one of confusion as he grabs a small notebook from his haori.

Hmm, I thought that none of the needed procedures had elluded me, but it is of no concern. This reminds me of the time I had to pass through Kaolin on my way to...never mind, please hand the paperwork I need to fill in. My gratitude for bringing this to my attention and you have my most sincere apologies for causing you and your colleagues any
degree of discomfort, you know this reminds me of the legal procedures I had to go through Xa hoi....but that is beside the point

Sakuchi Reaches into his haori once more to retrieve a sealed bottle of Ink and a fine engraved brush.

Now then, where am I required to sign?

Ben seems a bit taken aback by Sakuchi's attitude as he hands over the papers.

"I . . . oh! Yes, here are the papers. Quite a few of them, so you can sign them later. Just . . . we'd like them back by the end of the week. I must say, that's rather . . . refreshing. Usually people yell at me when I tell them that they have more paperwork to do. Or spit on me. No one has ever apologized for delaying the legal department.

Uh, thank you, really, thank you. It wasn't any discomfort, really. We have one guy named Suli, he hasn't filed any paperwork ever. Not sure he can read. We just filed him as a lost cause and do the best we can, so you're fine.

Please, when you have the time, I'd love to hear about your legal proceedings in Tien. I'm working on a report for agents so that they can know about local laws in different areas in order to avoid . . . complications."

An unassuming Chellaxian man with black hair wearing rather haphazard armor walks up to the man who has introduced himself.

"Ah, Sakuchi-san. Good to finally get ahold of you. I've seen you around the lodge a bit, but I never had a chance to pin you down. Name's Ben. Ben Goshey Hojoin"

The man produces a set of documents from his backpack as well as a stoppered ink well and a cold-iron pen.

"It seems that you were in such a rush to secure your, uh, 'brother' that you missed some paperwork while joining the society. You'll need to complete your x-37J as soon as possible, within the week for sure. I know family takes priority, so I took the liberty of filing 23 extension requests, all of which will need to be signed by you now that you have possession of the 37 j. I don't mean to be rude but you've caused the legal department quite a bit of backlog. For sure, family is important, but, well, maybe try double-checking your paperwork next time. I mean we at the legal department aren't monsters, we just try and make sure we have proper documentation of what's going on."

Most certainly. Unfortunately you are talking to a LG warpriest of Abadar who has ranks in profession(Paralegal) and enjoys filing paperwork :P

"Yes, well, I didn't do it for THEM, I did it because it was required by me. We all have things we are expected to do, otherwise society starts breaking down. And I THOUGHT one of the things required of me was to make an incident report, in triplicate, for every sentient creature killed not related to our mission. And I will be VERY cross if that was not the case, because then I would have wasted my time doing THIS" he says, pointing to his stack of papers"instead of something productive with my day.

Ben starts muttering to himself as he moves to pick up the stack of papers. "maybe I can leave these by his door . . . I don't think there's a rule against it . . .

Olyssia giggles at the sight of a flustered Abadarian. "Wow, that is something I haven't seen before! But anyway, there might be one flaw to that. What if they didn't worship Abadar." She gestures to Mr Hojoin's holy symbol. "Did you perform the correct last rites for them? And plus, they're BANDITS! They didn't give a rat's furry little rear end of Abadar. Plus you make it sound like it was a village far away from a civillized town. So maybe one of those priests of Erastil or something similar would have been preferred." She finishes with a shrug.

[dice=Kn Religion Take 10]10
Olyssia purses her lips for a few seconds before continuing. "Well, then just burn the bodies if you are worried like that. The village won't take care of graves of people that wanted to harm them. Incinerate the bodies, do a single rite for all of them." She mumbles slightly. "Even though they don't even deserve that." She speaks up again. "That way, only ash remains, which I heard that such stuff is good for farming. So it is a win win.~"

"Well, of course they didn't worship Abadar, they were BANDITS. Doesn't matter. Someone opened the way to them for the afterlife, even if that afterlife is eternal torment. As I understand, that's all they needed. Plus I was the only one there. Rural little village, no priests at all. Plus, I don't think ash is good for rice. I dunno, my brother was the one who took over the family farm.:

"I have to say, if he found me as I slept, he'd find more than just me. Dreng probably would not be surprised by that though, considering that tieflings are sometimes born with, traits of both." Olyssia shrugs with one hand with the palm facing upward. "But going back to the paperwork, don't you just record the race and gender and of course what gear the guy had? If he was an enemy, I mean. And only the ones you fought, correct? Since we get paid from what we "recover" during our missions." She puts the paperwork back down onto the chair where she had taken them from earlier.

Knowledge(Religion): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

Ha! Just barely enough to know about haunts

"What? Oh my NO, no you must give them last rites! Don't you know about haunts? When people die in a particularly tragic or ghastly way, without their life-contracts being stamped by Abadar before being ushered to Pharasma's realm . . ."

Ben is obviously flustered. He calms himself and starts again.

"If, if people die in a particularly gruesome, undignified, or nasty way, and if their spirits are not attended to, they can come back to haunt the living. I didn't want them haunting that village they attacked, so I had to give each Bandit his last rites . . .and a mass grave CERTAINLY could have created a haunt, so I had to bury them separately. I mean, I'm not a fully accredited priest of Abadar, but I know the last rites ritual, and section 57 B of the Abadarian code says that in absence of a proper priest of Abadar, one of his faithful can fill in should the need arise. I mean, I had to go and do some paperwork at the temple here in Absolom afterwords to make sure it was all on the up and up, but that was easy enough."

"To be honest, I think Mr. Dreng is avoiding me. See I originally signed up with the pathfinder society as a legal aide. But it was Mr. Dreng who misfiled my papers and placed me as a field agent. I've talked to him about it several times, and he's assured me that he will rectify the situation, but then I keep not hearing from him and being sent on missions.

"I used to be quite miffed at the whole thing, I mean, I'm a legal clerk. But they keep sending me on field missions as a 'cleric of Abadar.' I've TOLD them that I am no such thing, I am not fully accredited, but they keep not listening.

"Anyway, like I said, used to be miffed at the whole thing, but after this last mission I'm starting to see how I can do some real good out there.

"And as for the paperwork, it's not like I enjoy doing it. Well, not THIS paperwork at least. But that's what it said in the manual. If this is no longer the case, then it is Abadar's will the unjust rule should be changed. After all, unjust or defunct laws don't serve anyone."

"Meh" Olyssia dismissed the "Honest" trade idea. Continuing reading, she noticed the part where a horse was killed with a pen. "Oh wow. How'd you managed that... Anyway, I see villages as places one could "sleep" before continuing on. Of course you gotta defend where you might rest your body for the night. And for the bandits, you worked the villager's vengeance for them. So that is nice~" Olyssia thumbs through the bandit section quickly. "Though I think you didn't need to report Every single bandit, they're dead now right? Probably rotting in some mass grave a mile outside of that village now. Not much use except as worm food now."

"A mass grave? Oh my no, I gave each one of them proper burial rights. Took us a few days in that town, though I did have some help from my comrades. No, I gave them proper rights for a bandit, which is to say I ushered them to their damnation until their souls could be redeemed by the master of the first vault.

"Ah, my fighting style. I've been told it is unusual." Ben pulls out a silver calligraphy brush from his robe. On close inspection it has a very sharp point on it's hilt, and appears to be made of mithral. In fact, it appears to be an Iron Brush made out of Mithral, not Iron."Lord Eckheart Henderthane gave me this as a going-away present as I left his employ. I just kind of . . . instinctavly reached for it. I can't fully explain it, but I feel some sort of connection with these brushes.

Ben's sacred Weapon Class ability is Iron Brush.

To Pan: "Well, according to Section 47 Epsilon stroke b, I have to submit paperwork, in triplicate, for every sentient creature killed that did not directly pertain to our mission. We . . . ran afoul of some bandits and were forced to defend a town. 52 bandits, therefore, 156 papers for that. The other pages are my rather detailed field notes. My other companions were rather "Kill and drink the blood of our enemies" type people, so I didn't trust them to give a proper accounting."

To Olyssia: "Ben. Ben Goshy Hojoin. Fun? Oh, my no. I mean, I don't really think of myself as a combatant. I mean, I know how to fight, but only really in self defense. This was a special case though, bandits are somewhat . . . antithetical to the Master of the First Vault. I must say, before this adventure, I really dreaded combat, hated it really, but after fighting off bandits to defend a village attempting to do good with honest trade . . . I see it has its place."

As Olyssia thumbs through the documents, she notices part of the report where Ben relays that he killed a horse 'with a pen.'

A somewhat short Kelesh man enters the hall, his naval attire clear for all to see.

"Some advice boy-o, try not to bow to all the nobles here, you'll end up with a stiff back and a bad posture." Pan quips, chuckling bemusedly to himself, "Anyways, the name's Kr̥pāṇa, but you can call me Pan, as I try to keep my proper name used only in formal circumstances. But...that's besides the case, so...what sort of help d'you require?" Pan says as he plunks himself on a chair, his legs crossed and his arms behind his head.

"Oh, I'm just trying to turn in the paperwork for my latest field mission." Ben gestures to the stack of over 200 papers, neatly aligned, sitting on the chair beside the Kellish man.

"I tried to turn them in to Venture Captain Valsin, but he said to find Dreng. My Name's Ben by the way."

He offers the man a handshake.

"Ask forgive. . . Oh! Oh no, you misunderstand. This is not permission-seeking." the man says as he points to the papers. "No no, this is my 47 epsilon stoke b. According to pathfinder bylaws, any death of a sentient creature caused by pathfinders not DIRECTLY related to a mission must be recorded in triplicate. On my latest mission my team and I were forced to defend a village from bandits, quite unrelated to our original quest parameters. I gave all of them proper last rights as befits Abadarian tradition, and then began filling out the paperwork. The rest is my field report.

I have to say, I used to hate combat, but defending a village against heretics of Abadar, it made me realize how fighting has its place.

Oh, Ben. Ben Goshy Hojoin, paralegal and accidental field agent for the society.

Ben bows properly to the lordling.

A Black-haired Chellish man wearing standard breastplate with a Scimitar and Morning star on his belt is walking around the halls of the Grand Lodge, holding a massive stack of papers with both hands- at least 200 pages worth- and is absentmindedly wandering around, calling out.

"Dreng? Has anyone seen Dreng? I was going to give these to Valsin, but he said Dreng was the man to see. I have paperwork! I have-"

Frustrated, the man sets the papers down on a chair, and takes a rest.

"What on Golarian is the point of making a rule about filling out paperwork when no one is there to accept it! I mean, it's like I'm NOT supposed to follow the rules!" he mutters loudly to himself as he paces back and forth, trying to spy another soul in the hall.

Ben looks up with a start at the name of the lucky drunk.

Cayden? Oh I hope not! He was the cause of half my headaches in lord Henderthane's employ. Failure to pay taxes, paying taxes in beer, brewing without a proper licence, attempted bribery of public officials with spirits. . . The list goes on. . .

"Now, now. Ben everything will be alright, okay"As Carol speaks in a calming tone. "I know, there are things out there that no, normal person should come into contact with. Maybe Abadar wanted you there to end that weird place? Or to make it "Right" again? Maybe it could also be a test of faith. So Ben." Carol leans a bit to look at Ben's face. "So what would the logical reason he would send you there?"

His voice starts to regain some composure as he starts working though the trauma he's experienced.

There . . . there was a woman. She, she wasn't supposed to be in that place. She didn't sign up for it. Wasn't part of the contract. I . . . I helped her. She . . . I helped her get out of something she didn't sign up for. She didn't enter into the contract like the others . . . unlawful imprisonment? Is that why Abadar sent me there?

"Thank you Dr. Milligan. Though I do need more training in the healing school of work. But I am not a cleric though, so my spells can be a bit harder to change." As Carol finishes speaking, she notices the Chelaxian man walks into the Infirmary.

[dice=Knowledge Religion]1d20+5
[dice=Heal]1d20+4
Noticing the holy symbol to Abadar on his belt, she thinks that he might be a cleric, or maybe a warpriest of the aforementioned god. When he is shown where to sit, Carol walks over to him and greets him.
"Hello, my name is Ms Silverstar, what is your name?" She said in a calm tone. I am here learning the arts, and may I suggest focusing on your holy symbol?" Carol gestures to his holy symbol of Abadar upon his belt. "I have heard it can help ease one's mind and help with focus."

Absently, as if still in a dream, the Chellexian Man responds.

Ben. Ben Goshey Hojoin. Abadar did help me . . . once. Things made sense. But then I went to the place where things don't make sense. No laws, no order . . . Why would Abadar send me there. i didn't want to be there. It didn't make sense.

The Chellexian man sits down in the chair absentmindedly, and starts muttering, half to himself and half to whoever will hear him. There is a wooden holy symbol hanging from his belt.

I'm not even supposed to be here. I'm supposed to work in the pathfinder legal . . . thing. Area, branch, department? Yes, legal department. But some Dreng guy, he misfiled my papers. Field agent. I don't know field agent stuff.

My first mission. It started off okay. I negotiated some contracts. made sure some gnolls held up their contract as Abadar dictates. Had to fight some monster, didn't like that but it wasn't too bad.

Then, then things didn't make sense. Doors weren't doors. There were creatures who weren't really there. Lots of teleporting. And lots of fighting. Books that didn't make sense. No sense. No law, no order . . . no sense.

The Chellexian man just keeps murmuring 'no law, no order, no sense.' over and over.

A black-haired Chellaxian human in robes and four-mirror armor, but with no viable weapons, stumbles into the infirmary. While there are no obvious physical ailments with him, he is clearly out of sorts and possibly in a state of shock.

Hello? Can . . . can someone help me? I need to forget . . . everything. Everything is good, can you do everything? If not, maybe just my last mission. Forgetting my last mission would be good, can you do that?

[dice=Perception]1d20+22

"What do you mean you don't got weapons... Those little sticks look sharp, never seen anything like them though. Good idea to carry something small. I once had to resort to using an arrow to cut my way out from the inside of something called a Dust Digger, ever since then I started wearing this spiked gauntlet, make sure I'm always armed. My wife did come to help me get out of that, but she doesn't cut much with her fists or staff.

Like I said, not all field agents carry loads of weapons like I do. Many offer other talents, some try to hide in crates some give great hair cuts. I'm sure you'll do fine.

That flasks for drinkin out of, if you don't want any, pass it along."

This character doesn't recognize the 4 mirror armor or the iron brushes, because he is a CORE campaign PC

What? No, these are pens. See, this set Ben gestures to ten of the pens I got for helping clear up Lord Eckheart Henderthane's cold iron weapons caravan . . . they had been under some questionable, turns out illegal sanctions, and I cleared that up. And this Ben points to a special pocket with a silver brush. Was a going-away present. Lord Henderthane gave it to me as a token for all my hard work when he transferred me to the pathfinder society.

Wait, did you say EATEN? I . . . Wait, no, I could get EATEN? AS IN EATEN ALIVE? Cut your . . . you had to cut . . yourself . . .out of a stomach . . .

Ben absently sits down again and takes a large draw from the flask of alchohol.

I'm going to die.

The man absently takes the bottle but just holds it in his hands

Wha-spells? Oh no sir, I am no high priest or archmage. I mean, yes, while growing up at the monistary, I did learn how to ask Abadar for a few minor things, looking for and reading magic, some remedial healing, but nothing like what you describe!

For seemingly the first time Ben takes stock of the half-elf.

Oh my! Is, is that how many weapons it takes to be a field agent? Oh, oh dear

Ben finds a chair and slumps down in it, trying to console himself but immediately jumps up in a start. He throws open a portion of his robe to reveal a stash of eleven pens, each, each in their own little pocket sewn into his robe.

Oh, ouch, poked myself again.

Oh, but sir, I am no adventurer, I don't even practice law, I'm not an accredited barrister! My position is, erm, let me explain. In Chelliax, the barristers are quite busy with arguing legal cases in courts, so they will sometimes hire people to do their legal research and clerical paperwork for them. We are called paralegals. An adventurer? I don't even own a weapon! Or armor! I mean this- he points to his armor-was given to me by a Mr. Valsin when I brought my concerns to him. He told me 'try not to die!'

I mean, I guess I know HOW to use a few weapons. The priests at the temple of Abadar trained us how to defend ourselves against bandits, but that was a long time ago, and I didn't even complete the training! I washed out of the program when they said I didn't have enough 'force of personality' to become a true cleric of Abadar! Oh dear, this won't do at all!

A rather plain, though well-built man walks into the grand lodge, holding a sheaf of papers he is pointing to frantically. He wears a suit of four-mirror armor that looks out of place and ill-fitted. He looks to be of Chrllexian decent, but bears a wooden holy symbol of Abadar.

Oh dear, please, can someone help me? There seems to have been a mix-up! I. . . I was hired as a legal consultant and filing clerk for the society. But an individual named. . . the man tries to decipher some writing on one of the sheets of paper Dreng? Drengle dreng? He has misclassified me as a 'field agent!'