Search Posts
Okay everyone! I've put your chronicles here: Thanks everyone for sticking with it, I hope you enjoyed yourselves. Let me know if there are any problems with the chronicles. Thanks!
==========
Olandil seems relieved, but he keeps his weapon drawn. “Hostages? We don’t have time for that. I’ve wasted five years in this miserable city and I don’t want another thing to deal with it ever again. Just kick them out and let’s go.” Poppo briefly looks over his shoulder from the front of the whale, where he is still desperately trying to perform the ritual to keep the spell moving the vessel. “I don’t know! Does it matter?” he shouts frantically before turning his attention back to the ritual. ---
--- With the boarders and the strange creature defeated, the remaining sailor slowly lugs his fallen comrades up the rope ladder and out of the whale. As Niome sketches the incutilis and its puppet, she also notices some pearls tucked into the corpse’s pocket, one of which is magical (although it apparently did not help its previous owner much). Finally, Poppo starts the whale moving again. The body of the whale drops as it glides forward, and those looking out the glass eyes can see that it has completely submerged. Poppo takes it down low enough that when the whale passes under the blockade, the ship bottoms are but dark shapes against a watery sky closing in on the coastline. Poppo takes the whale to the rendezvous point given to you earlier by Venture-Captain Bennary, and the Pathfinders meet up with the Grinning Pixie. The Venture-Captain herself helps get the Pathfinders and Olandil into her ship, a huge grin that shows off her orcish tusks plastered on her face. “You lot had me worried! I watched the blockade closing in, and I was starting to think maybe I’d need to send in a retrieval team for you too. So, tell me, what happened in there?” Benarry listens intently to the green Pathfinders’ report, occasionally jumping in with her own comments and suggestions for embellishments to “get the story ready for the Chronicles.” Venture-Captain Benarry also offers Olandil a sincere apology for how long he was stuck in Pezzack. In reply, Olandil gives his rescuers a sheepish look. “I’m… I’m sorry. For how rude I was during this whole mission. I doubted you, but look at where I am now!” He sighs as if releasing a great weight, finally free from being trapped in Pezzack. “I will need time to reflect on this experience before I decide what my future with the Society will hold,” he informs his rescuers. “However, you all saved my life, and for that, I am grateful. At the very least, I will complete my original mission, and share with you what I have learned of the situation in Cheliax, as it relates to establishing a foothold for a new Pathfinder Lodge, as well as everything I know about the current situation in Pezzack. Thank you again.” ---
Hey everyone, I'm so sorry for disappearing for so long. I've been recovering from an illness and I was unable to post. For this game specifically, we are indeed at the very end. I'll post up my last post and have chronicle sheets ready ASAP, hopefully tomorrow.
Hey all, not feeling so well today, I'll probably need another day to post.
Hey all! As you may have guessed, we're going to be wrapping up soon. When I do the chronicle sheets, is anyone here requesting slow track XP?
==========
As Till moves into position, the remaining sailor scowls at Lord Arthur. However, he stays where he is, clutching his bloody wounds. Arthur's dagger flies true, piercing into the soft tentacle flesh of the incutilis. It squirms, but emits no noise. Instead, Arthur hears what must be the creature’s voice inside his head: it unleashes a scream of pain followed by frantic syllables in an alien language. Noam hears a similar sound in his head, the incutilis directly speaking into his brain as he approaches. It's not anything he understands, except for the wrenching cry of pain as Noam brings his sword down on it. It breaks through the hard shell, cutting into the creature’s internal meat and partly through its humanoid puppet’s head. The tentacles release their grip, but are still embedded when the whole mess of parasite and host topple over, defeated. With the boarders subdued and the strange parasite dying, Olandil turns and levels his rapier at the smug sailor. “Get out!” he snaps. “And take this trash with you when you go, before I change my mind about killing you!” The sailor clenches his teeth, partly from his bitter defeat and partly because of the pain he's in. He looks around at the other Pathfinders, especially Arthur, as if asking their permission to move without being slain. ---
==========
Lord Arthur attempts a repeat performance of his earlier attack, but to no end. The smug sailor manages to parry it, although he's obviously harried and frustrated by being surrounded on all sides. Meanwhile, Niome holds the line and casts a spell at the approaching creature. Silent to everyone else, it alone is buffeted by a wave of sound. It staggers, as if hit by a massive invisible blow, its already tattered clothes ripping in places. Scrutinizing the strange creature, Olandil recognizes what it is. “How did an incutilis get in here?” he demands. “Nevermind! It's a parasite, that tentacle creature on its head! The body is just a puppet!” he shouts to the other Pathfinders.
All the while he continues to try to distract and interfere with the sailors.
Noam scolds the vengeful woman, emphasizing his point with a blow from his sword. Noam buries the huge blade deep into her shoulder and she staggers back from the force of the blow, crying out. The deep cut proves too much for her, and she collapses. Arisha, unseen, suddenly enters the remaining sailor’s vision just as her kukri slips between his ribs. He gasps and clutches the bleeding wound with his free hand, then coughs up some blood. He still stands, but barely, hunched over with legs trembling. He still manages to shuffle out of the way of Aggie’s attack, though, given her disadvantageous position on the ground-flesh. ==========
The last remaining sailor, bleeding and alone, looks at the Pathfinders, clearly afraid. The blood has drained from his face, his smug expression gone. “Please, no more. I yield,” he begs weakly through blood stained teeth. Meanwhile the tentacle creature - or rather, the incutilis and its puppet body - stay where they are. It seems to still be trying to recover its balance from Niome’s sonic attack. ---
GM Rolls:
==========
Lord Arthur’s rapier pierces the cocky sailor’s leather armor, who lets out a cry of pain and anger. He grits his teeth and whips his head around toward Niome as she casts her spell. It seems the pain helps him shake off the spell, and he yells at her, “Get out of my head! I’ll kill you next!” before turning to face Arthur. After Arixana and her lackeys make their moves, Olandil moves up, drawing his rapier. He holds it out toward the cruel-looking woman, trying to interpose himself between her and Till. “Back off!” he snarls.
Noam then brings his huge sword down on the Chelish Lieutenant. The blade briefly catches on an invisible magical barrier surrounding her, but the force of Noam’s swing is easily enough to crash through. She is left with a huge gash of a wound, and collapses unconscious. The woman with the yellow sash scowls at him and declares. “You’ll regret that!” Arisha begins to fade from the blue-shirted man’s attention (although he’s got plenty on his mind already). The man then blinks against the distracting starlight swirling around him, muttering curses as his assault continues. ==========
Suddenly, a sickening sound of wet flesh and cracking bone is heard from deeper in the whale’s throat. A corpse emerges from the fleshy wall, stumbling awkwardly. It faces the melee, groaning low and miserable. There appears to be some sort of creature latched onto its head: a pink and white shelled creature from which tentacles descend, running down and buried into the corpse’s flesh. It lurches toward Niome with jerky, awkward motions, as if it were a clumsy marionette. DC 11 Knowledge (Dungeoneering):
This is a lesser incutilis. It is a lesser form of an aberrant marine parasite that latches onto other creatures’ bodies (dead or alive) and drives them like puppets to find more prey or better hosts. DC 16 Knowledge (Dungeoneering):
Destroying the lesser incutilis’ puppet does not directly harm it, but simply deprives it of a host. It will then seek out a new helpless creature to take control of. Attacks that affect an area affect both the creature and its puppet. The lesser incultilis can be attacked separately from its host, although it is somewhat more difficult. Till gives a rallying cry to inspire his allies. The fight is going well for them, but it isn’t over. The smug blue-shirted man realizes that Arthur is a threat, but finds the bowled over Aggie an easier target. He brings his scimitar down in an overhand slash at her. However, he seems disoriented enough that his strike goes wide and cuts into the dead flesh of whale tongue that makes up the floor. The cruel looking woman, in a bout of vengeful spite, steps up to Noam and takes a swing at him with both hands on her blade. In her anger she overcommits on the swing, however, and Noam is able to easily step back from the telegraphed attack. Olandil steps up and delivers a swift kick to the yellow-sashed woman. “Not so fast,” he barks as she stumbles. It’s not enough to hurt very badly, but the shove puts her off balance, and Noam could easily take advantage of that mistake. He then brings his rapier to bear against the smug sailor, batting at the man’s scimitar to knock it away and leave him open to Lord Arthur’s attack.
---
GM Rolls:
As Poppo concentrates on the ritual circle, it starts to glow with an arcane light. The light spreads and runs down the length of the whale’s interior along the whale’s natural biological pathways. The vessel lurches into movement, as Poppo starts to sail/whale it out of its hidden grotto. Out of the glass eyes, Noam and Arisha can see the sea floor as the whale starts to exit the Guts. Suddenly, there is a faint sound of harpoon guns and something impacting the whale outside. The whale suddenly stops, jerking its passengers with the sudden change of inertia.
==========
Before most of the Pathfinders can react, the whale’s blowhole opens with a “pop” and woman wearing a Chelish uniform and holding a crossbow quickly comes down the ladder, accompanied by two men with scimitars. The woman, clearly the leader here, steps forward with a stiff posture and a cool, judgmental look that she cascades over the Pathfinders. “By order of the Pezzack dottari, and by the authority of myself, Lieutenant Arixana, you are all under arrest,” she informs them calmly. She also just as calmly has her crossbow leveled at Olandil. The newly rescued man, having kept his balance and so standing near Poppo, swallows hard and looks at the other Pathfinders for their lead. The sailors with Arixana - either guards out of uniform or hired mercenaries - watch her and the Pathfinders intently, like dogs waiting to be sicced on their prey. ROUND 1: If the Pathfinders refuse to surrender:
“Very well then,” Arixana says. “Kill them.” Arixana turns around to face the throat of the whale where Aggie, Aratare, and Niome are clustered. “Burn,” Arixana commands, and raises one hand to cast a spell at them. When she reaches into her spell component pouch, though, she pulls out a handful of thistles. “What!” she snarls, throwing the useless bag on the ground.
Meanwhile, one of Arixana’s lackeys, a cruel looking woman with a yellow sash for a belt, steps up to the actor Till and slashes at him with her scimitar. It doesn’t manage to cut through his armor, though. Next, a smug looking man in a blue shirt swings at Aggie. The sword cuts into her, but seems to get stuck - it’s not a clean cut. The man pulls back and looks at his sword angrily. “Is there tar on this? What the hell?”
---
---
Till
GM Rolls:
Hope it all goes well! Take your time.
“Of course I already have the whale!” Poppo replies indignantly. “This is a whaling town. There’s plenty of whales to be had if you know the right people,” he says with a wink. “Anyway, it’s very simple. Well, actually, it’s very complicated. It’s complicated to set up, and to perform the ritual, but riding inside the whale as a passenger is quite simple. I have magically preserved the cadaver and there is ample space in the mouth and throat to ride in comfortably, as long as you don’t mind the smell of fish too much. It’s perfectly safe!” Poppo declares. He hesitates for a beat, then adds, “It should be perfectly safe.” --- Early the next morning, Poppo leads the Pathfinders and Olandil through the Guts, out a secret entrance near Whaler’s Point (this time not crawling with Loyalist mercenaries), and into a smuggler’s grotto. A few rays of sunlight streak into the narrow grotto to glint from the ocean outside to the shallow water within. Poppo sloshes through the water to pull at a stepping-stone in the middle of the cavern. It dislodges with a pop, and a small swirling whirlpool gurgles in its place. “Quick!” Poppo says, as low but urgently as he can. “Into the blowhole!” The carcass is wedged in the inlet, which is much deeper than it appears. The whale itself is cavernous, its throat littered with improvised tools, sealed kegs, and broken bits of small boats. An intricate ritual circle glows on one of the interior “walls” of the whale’s body. Poppo seals the blowhole behind Olandil and the Pathfinders with a large iron porthole. “All aboard! We’re setting sail! Or whale... I haven’t figured out the jargon yet.” Poppo stands in front of the ritual circle and dedicates his attention to steering the whale. From the circle he calls back over his shoulder, “Can two of you stand and be my eyes? Just in those glass hemispheres - don't worry, they're not real whale eyes anymore. Get comfortable, it'll take a little while to pilot out beyond the blockade.” ---
Hey all, sorry for the silence. Everything went great on Friday, but I've been feeling too sick to post lately. I'm hoping to post again soon after I recover just a bit more - say within 24 hours or so.
Hi all, Apologies, my next post will be a bit delayed. I was busy tonight preparing for an important meeting at the courthouse tomorrow, and I should be free to post after that! Thanks for your patience.
I'm working on the next Gameplay post. In the meantime, a new map has been added! Go ahead and place yourselves wherever you'd like in the whale. Poppo will ask two of you to "be his eyes" by standing in the "Eyes," which are large glass hemispheres where the whale's actual eyes used to be.
Poppo is happy to show off his research and planning to the appreciative young mage. DC 15 Knowledge (Arcana): Poppo's ritual is a bit of ingenious magic that uses the power of the sea itself to animate the carcass of a whale. Poppo has been quite thorough, and there are no flaws or errors to be found in his ritual theory or preparations.
Poppo grins at Till’s question. “It is indeed an actual whale!” Poppo explains that the ritual will allow him to steer a whale’s body out to sea. He insists that there is nothing necromantic about the animation ritual; it animates the whale’s body as an object using transmutation magic rather than negative energy. The professor can also show the Pathfinders his research notebooks. Even a cursory glance over the notebooks reveals that Poppo’s approach is organized, meticulous, and detail-oriented to the point of obsession.
The Pathfinders take to the streets to combat the Loyalist slander against them. Whether in private conversations, bold declarations to the public, or clandestine missions of sabotage and aid, they fight against the spreading Loyalist propaganda starting to crop up in town. After their hours of hard work, the city is buzzing with news about the Pathfinders. As they pass through the streets, they hear a jumble of messages from people who vilify them, people who praise them, and some people who are just confused. Still, it seems their efforts were successful overall - the Loyalists’ smear campaign has clearly failed to take root. --- In the evening, they make their way back to the Academy where Poppo and Olandil wait. “So the White Thistles will help us? Excellent news!” Olandil replies when he hears the news of the Pathfinders’ efforts. He turns to Poppo and says, “Is the whale ready yet?” Poppo looks at him slightly crossly and replies, “Not quite! I still have to make some adjustments, patch it up to make sure it’s seaworthy…” “We can’t stay hiding forever you know!” Olandil interrupts. “The Loyalists have been thrown off for now, but even with help we need to leave immediately. We can wait maybe one more day, but that’s it,” he says, almost pleading. Poppo sighs, and says, “Fine! One more day. I can have it ready by then.” Addressing the other Pathfinders, he smiles and says, “You Passfinders have done good work! Take a break, rest up. We’ll leave in a day, so be ready.” ---
Among the strixes’ remains, as Noam lays them out respectfully, the Pathfinders find a number of basic supplies and equipment, including some well-crafted bows. Marked with their icons, any of this would offer suitable proof of their defeat for Lorrin Meese.
--- Back at the Inkwell’s back room, Lorrin Meese is happy to see you all back in one piece. “I’m so glad you’re alright! I really appreciate you dealing with those strix - innocent people were getting attacked, sometimes killed.” He smiles, genuinely appreciative. “You are trusted friends indeed. I’m sure I can mobilize some of our people to create a distraction. Enough for you to escape with ‘the Printsmith.’ We’ll be ready in about a day, so in the meantime we can work on that other thing…” Lorrin goes to a desk in this room and shows the Pathfinders what looks to be a flyer - or more accurately, a wanted poster. “We managed to get our hands on one of these in advance - a bounty on Pathfinders, apparently, saying your Society is a terrorist threat. Armed, dangerous, and looking to sow disruption in Pezzack and Cheliax without regard for its people.” He sighs. “Obviously this isn’t true, but most people won’t know that. We can help you with your reputation here - and reputation is very important in Pezzack - but I’m willing to follow your lead. How would you like to go about this? I have some suggestions of my own, but only if you’d like to hear them.”
Lorrin Meese’s recommendations: “Well, if you ask me,” Lorrin starts modestly, “the White Thistles go out into the streets, talk to people. Let them know the truth ! You’ve got a great performer with you,” he adds with a smile at Till,[b] “I’m sure you could stir up the people with a rousing speech about the Society .
With the strix defeated and Noam recovered, the Pathfinders must decide to do from here. The one knocked loopy by various spells will wake up eventually, and the other one’s wounds are grievous - blood continues to pool under him. Niome’s search reveals nothing of much interest - this place is truly an abandoned ruin. The pit full of bones is unnerving, but the bones are all mismatched. While some of them could be human, many of them are also much too small, and (if one were inclined to this sort of work) it would take days to sort through and categorize the species of everything here. Arisha looks for a place to plant the evidence. Leaving it clumsily “hidden” behind a rock or near the edge of the bone pit would likely be ideal places. The lack of strix attacks here should serve as adequately interesting to draw others here. ---
--- GM Rolls:
==========
Noam takes a series of brutal attacks from the strix’s spear. Arisha’s mental trick keeps his adrenaline up enough to push through the first attack, but the second pierces him through the chest. He falls, bleeding on the ground. However, somewhere on his person a small tattoo of the Glyph of the Open Road glows faintly before fading away, and he miraculously survives although his unconscious breathing is shallow. Lord Arthur charges forth to avenge the attack, piercing the strix through the side. He screams in pain, a sound that resembles both a human cry and that of a bird of prey. Till’s arrow finds purchase immediately after in a sensitive part of his wing, and the spear-wielding strix stops flapping and crashes into the ground. Aggie moves forward and blasts the still standing strix with brilliant starlight. Already dazed, this strix lets the flashing lights into her vision with a dull reaction of wonder. Her pupils become huge before her eyes shut as she is overwhelmed and also falls over. ---
---
Arisha
GM Rolls:
Gotcha. It was a short-lived boon, but I'm glad no one is dying! Based on your damage, your stabilization roll would have failed (DC 20), so you are down another HP. But I believe your teammates should be able to heal you before you bleed out. :)
Well, this is turning out to be quite the complicated fight! It looks like the order in which this resolves is: 1. Noam enters the strix's reach and is hit by his readied attack for 7 damage. This drops him to unconscious due to his wounds from the fight with the loyalist ambush at Whaler's Point? Is that correct? (If you could keep your vital stats like your HP updated in your profile description, that would help me out a lot. :) ) 1a. Arisha's implanted trick triggers, giving him temporary hit point which then absorb the strix's attack. He would not drop unconscious in that case (remaining with 3 HP). 1b. If Noam still wanted to move forward to attack, the strix's AoO would crit and drop him to -20. Normally, this would kill him outright by dropping him below his Constitution score of 16 - HOWEVER! If he has selected the Tattoo of the Open Road option on his Welcome to Pathfinder boon, he can gain 10 additional temporary hit points (putting him at -10) as well as treating his Constitution score as 26 for the purposes of determining when he would die from hit point damage for one minute. 2. If the above happens, then Arthur approaches and makes his attack normally. 2a. If Noam stops after being hit by the readied attack, Arthur would instead take the 23 damage, putting him at -15 (killing him unless he also has that boon or some other way to survive).
==========
Niome’s singularly heard scream rings hard in the net-holding strix’s ears. She screws her eyes shut tightly as blood leaks out of her ears and ends her flight early to land. She seems distracted for now. ==========
---
Arisha
GM Rolls:
==========
The Pathfinders prepare and take a stand against the strixes’ inevitable attack - well, most of them. Neither one seems to notice Arisha sneaking up from behind one of the nearby ruined walls. The two of them, having leapt off the wall, fly toward the Pathfinders with hate in their eyes - specifically staring daggers at Lord Arthur and Till. The one on the left, wearing a bright teal armband, has a net in her hands: from this distance you can see that the net is covered in barbs, and has a rope leading from it. The one on the right holds his longspear below him as he flies, the yellow ribbon around it flapping in the wind. ---
Snag net:
An entangled creature takes a –2 penalty on attack rolls and a –4 penalty to its Dexterity score, can move at only half speed, and cannot charge or run. If the entangled creature attempts to cast a spell, it must succeed at a concentration check with a DC equal to 17 + the spell’s level or be unable to cast the spell. As long as the strix holds on to the snag net, the entangled creature cannot move more than 10 feet away from the strix, unless the entangled creatures succeeds at an opposed Strength check as a part of its movement to wrench the net from the strix’s grasp. An entangled creature can also escape with a DC 22 Escape Artist check (a full-round action). The net has 5 hit points and can be burst with a DC 25 Strength check (also a full-round action). ---
Arisha
GM Rolls:
That is correct. You can't keep any items from the scenario afterward, so you might as well use the consumables you find! You'll receive gold at the end, plus access to purchase some items regardless of fame or the usual limits of some consumables.
==========
The Pathfinders make their way to the abandoned tower, following Lorrin Meese’s directions and looking for a dilapidated silhouette on the skyline. Most of the walls and floors of this tower have collapsed. Only fragmented pieces of the stone exterior walls remain standing. Near the center of the ruin, a pile of bones rests in a 15-foot deep open grave. Two strix stand watch atop the ruined walls: dark-skinned humanoids with huge black wings and odd faces. These two wear leather armor and perch holding longspears and nets, with bows slung across their backs as well. When they spot the Pathfinders, one barks something at the other, clutching her things tightly as her wings start to beat. The other nods and lifts off as well as they both leap up from the wall and start to fly toward the Pathfinders with obvious hostility. They brace themselves, ready for the strixes’ assault. ---
---
Arisha
GM Rolls:
Lorrin Meese seems relieved when you accept his offer. “Thank you for your help. Usually the strix stick to their homes in the mountains, but things have been topsy turvy since the Second Ashes,” he explains. He listens patiently to the concerns about the planted evidence before responding, “Ah, yes, well. The important thing is making the area safe again by driving off the strix. I don’t necessarily love how duplicitous these documents are…” he admits, scratching the back of his head nervously. “Still, I’m certain it won’t ‘set the town on a rampage’ as you suggest. We’re hoping that this subtle play will help shift public opinion, and drive people away from those other factions. Certainly no one wants more bloodshed in the streets than the White Thistles, I assure you.” “Oh!” Lorrin adds, “And I think I could easily put you in contact with someone who maintains our equipment for self defense. I’m sure we could offer something like that for a reasonable trade, if you need a polearm or ammo or anything like that.” ---
The Pathfinders, deciding their best bet for assistance in escaping lies with the White Thistles, seek them out. The contact is obvious: Lorrin Meese at the Inkwell. The iron golem bouncer nods at them as they enter, and the White Thistles aligned proprietor seems glad to see them. “Oh, it’s the students again!” he greets you. He invites you in and gestures for you all to have a seat at a nearby table. “I think I saw you at Jaks Arunai’s poetry reading briefly, didn’t I? Or I suppose I should say the Printsmith’s reading! Who could have seen that coming!” he wonders. “Can I get you anything? I don’t suppose you’re here to deliver more of that wonderful performance skill of yours?” he asks Till with a warm smile. DC 20 Sense Motive:
Although Meese is putting on a good face, there is something faked about his shocked expression. Perhaps he knows more about either Olandil’s disguises or this mysterious Printsmith than he’s letting on.
At the request, Lorrin Meese raises his eyebrows. “Ah, I see,” he says pensively. He does a quick look around before standing up and gesturing for the Pathfinders to follow him. “Follow me,” he instructs, leading the Pathfinders behind the bar deeper into the tavern and to a more private room. Once inside, he locks the door and smiles, although more nervously, and gestures for his guests to have a seat on the available chairs. “This is… quite the task you’ve asked. Not that it’s impossible, but it would be difficult to get the people required for such a task on such short notice. I’ve heard through the grapevine about some of the things you’ve been up to - it’s been a busy week for you, hasn’t it? I know I’ve heard some White Thistles talking, but not everyone trusts you - trusting someone too quickly in this city is a dangerous prospect, you understand. So, I propose a deal!” Meese declares, smiling and clasping his hands together in front of him. “Near the edge of town is an abandoned tower. Or rather, abandoned by the folks who used to be there,” he starts to explain. “Nowadays, a number of strix inhabit it. I trust you’re familiar with them? People like us, only they have large black wings. The other thing about strix is that, well, they tend to hold a grudge against humans. The White Thistles have been trying to find a way to make that area safer, so that the strix stop attacking random people who get too close, but we haven’t had the resources. If you could drive them off - and you should expect a fight - I would happily put together the people to get you out of here and counter the Loyalists’ propaganda. Also, those wings aren’t just for show - they are skilled flyers. I highly recommend you bring some sort of polearm or some way to fight them at range. Also, there is one more thing…” Lorrin holds up one finger to ask the Pathfinders to wait, then goes over to a nearby trunk and pulls some items out. “Also, the balance of power here is a bit delicate, but I think you could help shift things in our favor. The others - the Loyalists, Docktown, even the Galtans - all have their reasons for what they do, of course, but none of them quite share our vision. A free Pezzack, with poetry in the streets instead of blood and cutthroat trades. If you, ah, planted some ‘evidence’ that they were colluding with the Strix, you may be able to discredit them and hurt their causes,” Lorrin sheepishly concludes. He lays out the “evidence:” there is a forged set of record books showing trade deals between Docktown leadership and the Strix, a forged letter “signed” by the Galtan leader Habar Curl offering to pay the Strix to destroy the Chelish blockade, and some repurposed Chelish naval documents praising the Strix for their assistance in razing the city during the Second Ashes, and promising ongoing support. “This part would be appreciated,” Lorrin notes, “but I leave it up to your discretion. The main thing is clearing the Strix out of that tower. Do that on our behalf, and you’ll have proved yourselves sufficiently trustworthy for us to assist.” Lorrin smiles. “So, what do you say?” GM Rolls:
==========
Olandil shifts over and draws his bow, taking a shot at the fleeing Gellius. The arrow flies true and sinks into the man’s shoulder. Gellius cries out in pain, but Olandil is not a strong enough man to fell the man with a single shot. Most of the other Pathfinders can’t make their way up the cliff faces before Gellius speeds away, ducking behind other rocky outcroppings and disappearing from sight.
--- Olandil sighs with relief as the man flees, and the Pathfinders all eventually make their way up the rocks to investigate the fallen thugs. They have a number of obvious useful items, and they are easily subdued. Among their things, each of them has a folded piece of parchment that appears to be redeemable with the Chelish Loyalists for payment, “for services rendered.” Olandil is nervous to leave, though. “Listen, that one got away but they already knew that I would be here. There’s no doubt that they’ll be sending reinforcements. We have to leave, now,” he insists. “We’ll go back through the Guts, we’ll find a place to stay and lie low; I know of a good one. Let’s go.” And with that Olandil climbs back down the rocks and heads back through the tunnels. Just as the Pathfinders have reversed direction traversing the Guts, so too has Olandil’s mood flipped. “I, uh,” he starts with a sheepish smile, “I have to apologize. I was frustrated earlier when I learned that the Society hadn’t sent agents who could get me out more directly or immediately. I’ve been trapped in this nightmare of a city for five years, and I was angry at the Decemvirate for leaving me to die; I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. I apologize.” Olandil’s smile widens. “Also, thank you. It’s been so long since I had someone fighting at my side, and I am truly impressed by all of your ability to cooperate. I underestimated you, and I’m truly grateful that you still defended me.” Once the Pathfinders make it back through the Guts, Olandil thanks them one last time. He explains that he has one more escape plan: he knows that Poppo has been working on something, and thinks it is their best shot to leave the city. He encourages the Pathfinders to leave the warehouse one by one so as not to attract attention, explaining that he will wait until the Loyalist heat has died down, then meet them at the Academy.
--- ==========
When the junior Pathfinders return to the Academy, they find that Olandil has managed to get there before them. They come upon him and Poppo in the middle of some kind of argument. “Sail the whale, now!” Olandil pleads. Poppo paces around the Academy basement, his only response a faint, anxious humming. “I know you don’t want to stay here. You’ve been working on that thing forever. Let’s get in it and get out of here!” “No!” Poppo marches up to Olandil. “I’ve been researching for months, but I need time to actually perform the last stages of the ritual properly. If I try to rush it, the whale might collapse, or explode, or sprout feathers, or any number of things that would normally be fascinating but aren’t going to get us out of here. At least not in one piece. And I like being in one piece! Don’t you? You’re just going to have to wait a while. And then we’re all going to need to pray to Gozreh and Nethys that it works.” Poppo’s voice drifts off, his bright eyes losing focus for a moment, before he clears his throat and announces with renewed optimism, “What I’m saying is, my ritual is a work of art. Just give me a little time, and I’ll have our flawless escape plan ready.” It’s then that the senior Pathfinder turns to address the group, as if they had been there the whole time. Olandil says, “There’s no need to worry. Poppo is one of the most skilled wizards in the Academy. He’s just a bit prone to nerves when he’s put on the spot.” Poppo interjects, “Hey! I’m right here! And like I said, flawless escape plan.” Olandil continues, “There is one more factor we still need to take into account. The Loyalists we met at the docks are going to be watching the harbor like hawks. We’ll need to create a diversion, and for that, we’ll need allies. Go to one of the factions. See if you can cut a deal for them to help our escape. A distraction maybe. If I know Pezzack, all of the factions are on guard after my announcement, with spies all over the town, so I doubt that you’ll get a chance to speak with a second faction. I would come with you, but honestly, someone needs to protect the professor, and I don’t trust any of your abilities as much as I trust my own.” Poppo says, “One word of warning! Once you leave here, the Passfinders are going to be blamed for everything, right?” Olandil shrugs. “Your point is? I don’t care if the Loyalists tell all of Cheliax the Pathfinder Society caused everything that has ever gone wrong in this town. Once we’re out of here, I want nothing further to do with the Society, and if you all have a lick of sense, you’ll make this your last mission too. The Society doesn’t care about its agents. Why do you think they sent such an amateur team for my rescue?” Poppo replies “Hey! They’re right here! The most-definitely-not-perfunctory Passfinders! At any rate, if you want to counter the Loyalist’s lies, one of the factions might be able to help you there too.” ---
GM Rolls:
==========
Aggie bellows at the Gellius, and he swallows hard. Seeing the triumphs of his two subordinates though appears to help him embolden his resolve. Olandil scrambles up the rocks and Arisha blasts the him and his grunt with a spell. Gellius blinks hard and seems unaffected, but the thug in the orange pants rolls his eyes up and falls over, unconscious. Lord Arthur hops up on the rocks and stabs at Gellius, now that his original target is out. His blow glances off the leader’s half-plate, though. Niome, also hoping for revenge against the braggart, shifts targets to the other dagger-thrower. He grunts and clutches his head with his non-sword hand as a small amount of blood leaks from his ears. He seems distracted by the pain for now. Noam, still up despite his wound, hurls the dagger back. The original thrower now down, he instead chucks it at the distracted other thug, since the leader isn’t a clear shot. The dagger hits the man square in the torso. The pain of this proves too much, and that man also falls. The leader Gellius finally reacts after this explosion of resistance. He levels his halberd at Lord Arthur, carefully defending against his attacks. As he does so he steps back slowly, then when he has enough distance hops down off the rock and runs away along the shore. His heavy armor clanks loudly and his scared, labored breathing can be heard as he flees. ==========
The thug hit by the dagger lies bloodied on the ground. The dusty rocks are darkened with red, although it’s hard to say how he’s doing.
---
--- GM Rolls:
Olandil puts his head in his hands again at Noam and Niome’s apologetic replies, muttering something in frustration. Eventually he looks up. “Okay… Okay. I can work with this,” he says, apparently thinking out loud. His attention is broken when Arthur begins his boast. He looks at the noble skeptically. “Maybe I haven’t heard of you… and you haven’t heard of me… because the Society abandoned me here for five years,” he snaps. “Are you going to whisk me away with all these new recruits without having to tangle with that blockade? Because if you’ve got an easier way out, I would love to hear it.” Despite his frustration, Olandil nods at Lord Arthur’s request. “Yes, I have plenty to go around. Unless you think such a successful Fortress Master as yourself doesn’t need the help,” he jokes bitterly.
After passing out his magical brews, Olandil answers Arisha. “Well, you saw my little speech up there. I managed to get my hands on this thing,” he says as he gets out the white rod he held aloft during the speech. “It took some doing, but I managed to piece this rod of influence together. It can plant an idea or a suggestion in a crowd’s heads. I was hoping I could sow enough confusion to allow me to escape and burn all of my alter egos. Once that died down and everyone realized that all the ‘Jacks’ were the same man, they would realize everything they told me was compromised. So I would be free from the Loyalists’ control and could lay low until it was time to escape. “My other plan involved, you know, asking the Society for help. I didn’t think they would respond at all, but the fact that they sent rookies feels like an insult,” he concludes. He quickly adds, “No offense. Sorry, I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of passing a Confirmation or something, but things are more complicated here.” ==========
A gang of a lightly armed thugs wait at the top of the ladder leading out of the Guts. Past the rocky outcropping where the grate opens to the salty air, a small fleet of sailing boats flying the Chelish flag swarms the coast all the way to the harbor’s entrance, the Pinch. “You’re too late, Pathfinders,” their leader shouts. “The Navy’s just sneaked its picket boats in under the Shorewall cannons and halted fishing. Your escape’s cut off! Just give up and we’ll send you our nicest one-way ship out of town.” DC 15 Sense Motive:
The leader of these thugs seems nervous. Even as he demands your surrender, his eyes flick back and forth to each Pathfinder, his brow is knit with worry, and his armpits are starting to form large patches of sweat. Perhaps he, like Olandil, expected much more formidable Pathfinders as well. Whatever the case, he is afraid of you, and intimidation here would prove an effective tactic. The two thugs, their swords already drawn, now both draw daggers from their belts and throw them down at the Pathfinders from their higher ground on the rocks above. The one off to the side on the north side, wearing a cyan belt, knicks Till’s hand with his thrown blade. It’s a small wound, but it starts bleeding profusely. The other one, wearing patched orange pants, sticks his dagger into Noam. The dagger flies perfectly and hits the half-orc where his neck joins his shoulder. Such a wound would instantly fell most of the other Pathfinders here, but Noam stays up. “HA! Got ‘em! See that, Gellius? I deserve a bonus for that!” he brags to the leader.
Olandil scrambles up the side of the rocky outcropping, getting to the top on level with the thugs and drawing a shiny rapier when he gets there. “You won’t lay a hand on them if I have anything to say about it,” he snarls at the thug. Till begins a boisterous, rousing speech, emboldening his fellow Pathfinders to action!
---
--- GM Rolls:
Olandil’s brows knit together in confusion. “A boat? You mean, just sneak out? But why would we…” he starts to ask, before a realization dawns on him. His face falls back into an expression of exhaustion, and he droops his head, covering his face with his hands. “By the gods. You’re all rookies.” He stands silently for a few seconds, immobile. When he looks up, there are tears welling up in his eyes and he snarls, furious. “The Society abandoned me for 5 years, and they send you?” he sneers accusingly. He begins to pace, angrily muttering, “Great, now I have to worry about baby-sitting rookies and get us all out of this hellhole alive.” He continues to pace, holding a hand up and clutching his forehead in thought. Eventually he stops and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “Okay, I can work with this…” Turning back to address the Pathfinder neophytes, he says, “Alright, if I’m going to be stuck with rookies, I’m at least going to make sure you have what you need. I stashed some supplies down here, come with me.” Olandil leads the Pathfinders to one of the abandoned rooms, tapping on one of the walls. He removes a loose brick and reaches inside the vacancy, producing various bags and boxes. He opens a few up to check their contents, nodding as he finds everything in order. “I stashed some goods down here, but it’s better if we split it up. Here,” he says, passing out parcels of spices, scrap metal, and other various trade goods. He also removes a battered, slender wand and offers it to the group. “Is there anything else you need? I have some other things that can help you all not get yourselves killed.”
Olandil’s extracts:
Investigator Extracts Prepared (CL 5th)
2nd—barkskin, cure moderate wounds, invisibility 1st—disguise self, expeditious retreat, heightened awareness, shield (2) “We should get moving,” he suggests once everyone is supplied. As they walk through the tunnels together toward the exit at Whaler’s Point, Olandil explains his mission, obviously still upset but willing to cooperate as a fellow Pathfinder. “You came just in time, at least. A few weeks ago the Loyalists figured out who I really was. They’ve been blackmailing me, threatening to reveal my other covers unless I used them to spy on and undermine their rivals. They like to pretend they’re on the up-and-up, but they’re all crooked as a dog’s leg.”
Thanks for the heads up! Shall I bot you until this weekend, then?
At the word “Pathfinder,” Olandil is visibly relieved. He relaxes his tense shoulders, releasing a large portion of the weight of five years of imprisonment in this chaotic city. “Pathfinders! Better late than never, I suppose!” he exclaims, exhilarated. He runs over to Noam and thrusts his arms under Noam’s raised ones in a hug. He releases the embrace quickly, placing his hands on the half-orc’s shoulders and beaming at him. “You’re a strong one, eh? I bet you’d have no problem smashing through a few hundred strix in the mountains. Oh, but wait!” Olandil rushes over to Naomi, able to restrain himself this time not to rush her with a hug. “You… you’ve got the look of a mage. Am I right?” he asks with a grin. “There’s no need to be humble with this ‘apprentice’ nonsense, surely you can cast some sort of teleportation spell without breaking a sweat.” Olandil backs off and looks off wistfully into the distance. “I’m finally going home!”
==========
Back in the Guts that the Pathfinders visited a couple nights before, there are still lit, sputtering torches illuminating the dank tunnels. They find no further impediments or threats, having dealt with the bugs and trap already. They eventually manage to catch up with Olandil, who they find upon hearing his footsteps near the end of the path, just past the corpse of the scorpion. The man’s skill at disguise becomes clear when the Pathfinders catch up with him. He is no longer the passionate, dark-haired Chelish poet Jaks Arunai. His skin is peachier, his hair now blonde (and wet - he apparently washed out whatever dye was in it), and his outer coat reversed to show an unassuming dark gray. Most of all, his facial expression is no longer that of a fiery poet but of an exhausted man. He also appears to be a little confused - likely he wonders who eliminated the giant bugs along his escape route. He whips around as the Pathfinders catch up and get to about ten feet away from him, his hand defensively going to a rapier at his belt but not drawing it. “Halt!” he demands. He is clearly on edge, but his voice is confident, if tired. “Not a step closer, now, alright? Identify yourselves immediately.”
Aggie, with two days of rest you can reduce that initial Strength damage by 2. So it's only 3 right now (effectively giving you a -1 penalty on Strength-based rolls, to simplify the wording of the rules).
==========
At the warehouse, a sizeable crowd has gathered to hear Jaks Arunai’s in-person, and not just published, poetic debut. There are familiar faces among those gathered, including Lorrin Meese, the proprietor of the Inkwell tavern. He must have been busy, as the flyers he was handing out at the door on Moonday have been plastered all over the city in the past day. A couple of women act as guards at the entrance to the warehouse, both with sprigs of thistle stuck through their jacket lapels or buttonholes. They relieve any obvious or known Chelish Loyalists of their weaponry, as advertised on the flyer, before they can enter. The guards give the Pathfinders warm smiles as they enter and find some empty canvas-backed folding chairs set up. Jaks Arunai arrives on time for his reading, and Lorrin Meese goes up to the stage (made up of stacked up pallets with a board over them) and gives him a brief introduction: “Thank you all for your attendance, poetry lovers! It is my pleasure to present an up and coming poet’s debut public reading! He is quickly proving to be a master of the form, and I hope his words instill a fiery passion in your hearts for truth and justice as they do in mine. Without further ado, I give you Jaks Arunai!” The crowd gives the man his due applause as he nods to Meese and clears his throat. He shuffles through a few papers, and he is a pale, middle aged man (or perhaps early wrinkling with stress and worry) with black hair that is pushed back in a way that accentuates his large forehead and small black eyes. He wears a fetching patterned coat, crimson with abstract marigold thread marbled throughout, structured with a large collar and gold-colored clasps. He begins his reading. Whatever clout he has as a poet to attract this dozens-large crowd, it is not on display with this particular reading. His poetry is incomprehensible gibberish (similar to Madge’s poetry, with far too many “oddle eedle liddle toddles” and such). The crowd murmurs discontentedly, then when someone throws a rotten fruit the whole crowd joins in with dirt clods and a loud chorus of booing. Having their attention, he turns away as a mushy peach flies toward him and splats on his back. However, he quickly turns back around, having produced from his pack a long, white ash rod tipped with an onyx gem. DC 27 Spellcraft:
This gem-topped rod is a rod of influence, a rare, weaker variant of a rod of rulership. The rod allows its wielder to implant a single fact or suggestion into the minds of all creatures in a 300-foot radius. After Olandil uses the rod of influence, its magic is depleted. The sunlight spilling through the barred upper windows splits on the gem and spreads a pale prism across the crowd. With a supernaturally booming voice, Olandil declares, “Today, I shed light upon one of Pezzack’s greatest secrets. Jacks, the man you trust as a member of your very own faction, is the Printsmith! And Jacks has been hiding his identity from you all. All your secrets are laid bare to Pezzack’s greatest journalist, soon for the entire city to see! Panic! Panic and regroup! Pay no attention to outside affairs!” He gestures emphatically as he speaks, but his gestures do not match his words; instead, they are a series of Pathfinder hand signs. “Follow me into the warehouse. Secret passage to underground, back left corner, behind fish barrels.” He continues to sign as he steps off the stage, but the meaning of the signs becomes more difficult to discern.
After promising to reveal the true identity of Jacks/Jaks/Jax to the crowd, Olandil slips away toward the secret trapdoor that the Pathfinders explored two nights ago. Among the rising confusion and hubbub of the crowd, it’s easy to get away and follow him. DC 11 Sense Motive #1:
Olandil’s first more obscured hand signal warns of a pit trap somewhere within the tunnels… presumably the very one you managed to get past before. DC 11 Sense Motive #2:
Olandil’s second signal indicates that there is an aggressive grub along one of the tunnel paths. Again, this is almost certainly the one that lies slain at your hands already. DC 11 Sense Motive #3:
Olandil’s third hand signal indicates that there is also a dangerously large scorpion in the way of escape. It, too, has presumably already met its end, unbeknownst to Olandil. ---
==========
After the scorpion attacks, Till revels in the drama, providing encouragement to lift his fellow Pathfinders’ abilities. Arisha slips past and the scorpion blindly lashes out with its tail stinger when it sees sudden movement. However, Arisha is far too quick and dodges out of the way. Noam makes a move and smashes into the scorpion with his sword. It slices through the bug’s carapace, splitting the creature clean in half as its innards leak out onto the stone.
As the Pathfinders progress through the tunnels of the Guts, they find a few small, unoccupied rooms. They contain some old, rotting wooden furniture and assorted broken junk. A few rats scurry among small junk nests, but they flee at the sight of any people coming in. The end of this tunnel leads to a ladder, and the ladder leads to a rusty but functioning grate to the outside. As the Pathfinders emerge the scent of fresh sea air clears out the musty smell of the Guts. They find themselves among a small, rocky outcropping on the coast, having made their way to Whaler’s Point. Despite the dark night, the moon illuminates a few small boats in the distance, as well as the ever present blockade. ---
--- GM Rolls:
==========
Aratare scurries away bleating as the scorpion attacks, and the Pathfinders are quick to respond. Niome’s spell goes wide, and Lord Arthur’s sword-hand is coincidentally knocked away by the scorpion’s swinging tail as he tries to pierce its hide. Aggie has better luck, landing a blow with her falchion. The large sword connects, but leaves only a glancing blow; still, she manages to sever the tip of a couple of the creature’s many legs. It squeals in pain as a clear liquid falls out and quickly turns light blue when exposed to the air, then lashes out at the half-orc. The first claw connects, tearing a cut into Aggie’s leg. The second can’t maneuver around the half-orc’s large sword, but its stinger lunges at her chest and pierces through her armor. As the sharp stinger enters her flesh Aggie can feel the wound start to burn, and as the scorpion withdraws its tail it is tipped with blood and some dripping clear fluid.
---
--- GM Rolls:
Aratare flies over the pit, rope dangling from its mouth, looking for anything sticking out as Aggie directs. A little bit to the west side of the pit, illuminated by the light of the starry goat, is a bit of pipe sticking out of the wall. It looks old, but Aratare loops the rope around it (while only nibbling a little bit on the rope) and it proves solid as Aggie tugs on it, one end down in the pit. Through this bit of cleverness, the Pathfinders can all make their way across the pit and then into the southern tunnel without too much hardship.
--- As the Pathfinders progress down the hall, there is a faint smell of rotting flesh mixing with the slimy smell of the saltwater-fed mold on the walls. A tiefling corpse lies in the corner, curiously with much of the flesh missing and the white skeleton showing underneath. Something stirs from a dark, collapsed staircase nearby, and a pile of rocks scurries out - no, actually, it appears to be some sort of bug. It stands over its apparently prized corpse, making chittering noises and leveling two huge claws and a menacing stinger-tail at the Pathfinders. ==========
The bug moves quickly enough from its hiding place that the Pathfinders are too slow to react when it makes the first aggressive move. It moves forward towards the actor, Till, simply because he is the closest. It snaps at him with its huge front claws and jabs its stinger at him. Luckily the claws and stinger don’t manage to pierce Till’s armor, with only a few tears in his clothing here and there. ==========
After this initial attack, the Pathfinders have a chance to react before the bug continues its attempted predation. DC 11 Knowledge (Nature):
This is a cave scorpion. Its hard natural armor looks like stone, allowing it to hide in caves (and apparently dangerous tunnels) very well. Like all vermin of its type, it is immune to mind-affecting spells. Due to often being in close proximity to them, cave scorpions often attack and eat dwarves, and their meat appears to be the species’ favorite meal. DC 16 Knowledge (Nature):
If they manage to get ahold of their prey with both claws, they can rend them terribly. Its stinger can also deliver a strength-sapping venom. ---
--- GM Rolls:
Glad to have you back!
The Pathfinders continue down the hall, Noam and Lord Arthur leading the way. As they walk down the hall and reach the next branch, however, the stone floor beneath them sinks slightly under their weight and there is a faint ‘click’ before the tunnel floor swings open beneath them into a dark pit. In the cramped tunnels, with little room to move, the two tumble down to the bottom of the pit fifteen feet down with a ‘THUMP’ as they hit the hard stone floor. Lord Arthur grumbles, “Well, it’s just one unpleasantness after another, isn’t it?” before getting up and offering Noam help as well. He brushes himself off and frowns as he looks around, wincing as he feels large bruises forming on arms and legs. ---
==========
Till launches into an inspiring rallying cry as Noam moves up and Niome displays her vast knowledge of insects and their ilk. As Arisha disappears to find a way to get around the creature, Noam simply moves up and takes a swing. Guided by Till’s inspiring oratory, his blade finds its mark. The giant maggot hardly has time to make a chittering sound in protest before Noam slices the grub open and it lies twitching in a growing pool of its own light blue hemolymph.
--- With the grub no longer posing any threat, the Pathfinders are free to continue their exploration. The tunnels of the Guts continue to twist and turn, their winding paths and damp walls living up to the name. Arisha’s doubling back leads through some long twisting paths, but they eventually lead back around. It looks like going right would have avoided the maggot, but in the end everything proved to work out anyway.
|
