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Ping chuckles as Methodios stumbles through the debriefing, and chimes in with more exact details as he speaks, though he does his best to stay out of the center of attention. At least I can contribute something to this expedition... "You know, Methodios, I asked those miscreants several times what prophesy they were talking about. They were too lost in their delusion to answer us. Either that, or we killed them to fast." Not that I saw all of it...
Ping shakes his head and props himself up on one arm after one of his companions dumps the cure potion down his throat. "That was an unfortunate ambush. I am glad to be walking with so many capable companions. And no matter what they say, I am glad of both of our bards. Why even in my unconcious dreams I felt inspired." Getting up, he kicks over the body of the woman who nearly beat him to death with her shield. "What prophesy were you talking about? What would drive you to such madness as to fight to the death when you were so clearly overmatched?" Ping wonders aloud.
"Well, master Dreng. We do not have a bottle of wine to present to you, though I suspect you already knew that would be the case." Ping addresses the venture captain with a polite bow. "Though I suspect all of our notes on our foray through Absalom are similar, I offer mine for you to review. Here you will see information about the secret room under the wounded wisp, which held the troglodytes. If there presence was actually unintentional, we may want to inform Gale, as there may be worse things to find their way through that tunnel. Of course, in that secret room was an interesting clue that led us on a merry chase throughout Absalom."
Stars explode across the vision of the Tien soldier as the woman hits him from behind with her shield. The ground rushes up to meet the faltering archer. How is it that we had that woman surrounded, and she was still standing to cut me down? And how did I let myself get cut down? I am sorry, ancestors. I am a disappointment to your honor. I shame our family name. I didn't even make it into the society... I have failed. Perhaps my father was right. If I cannot wield a katana, I do not deserve to bear the family name. I will die a no name... a bastard. Forsaken...
Ping moves past Logg, getting himself into the room to better see the enemies they face. "What prophecy? " Ping asks, genuinely confused. What he is not confused about, is what direction to point the arrow he has knocked. for
-Posted with Wayfinder
Ping looks to Theron quizzically. "But... The song... You sang during it fights.. I felt so... Inspired... And you say it was as if you weren't here? " Ping looks around, a bewildered look on his face. what could this bard do when he is actually mentally present for his artistry? What latent talent lies hidden in that soul? What heights could we be lifted to by his song, were he truly in the moment? "focus, New friend... I suspect your talents will be needed here. I sense we are close to solving this puzzle. If I have learned anything this far, it is that our biggest test is yet to come..." -Posted with Wayfinder
At least I can say I'm good at spotting illusions... "here we are, ladies and gentlemen." Ping indicates the illusionary wall. "maybe we write the password on the chalkboard?" Standing in front of the wall, Ping tries saying the word, "Wiffle" first. If that doesn't work, he tries writing it on the board, then los for a place to put it that might open the secret door. -Posted with Wayfinder
"I believe we need to find the text that was underlined on the wall of names in the grand lodge. Then we can see what failed aspirant is tired to that text. And at some point use that password." Ping begins to read through the text on the altars, looking for the words that were find on the wall of names. -Posted with Wayfinder
Ping looks on to Methodios, trying his best to conceal his jealousy at the wayfinder he wears. He looks away quickly when the Chelaxian looks his way. Following along as they make their way to the shrine of the failed, he broods in silence, the worry at his failure to contribute in any meaningful fashion gnawing at his mind.
Ping looks over the known fake names and their epitaphs. He raises his hand to his chin and squints his eyes, as if changing their focus will bring the answer to him. After several minutes he wanders over to Lady BroKhan and Methodios, and cracks open a bottle of sake. "I have no clue. Perhaps I need to drink to soften the blow of being denied the opportunity to become a pathfinder."
"Ha! I knew it! Did I say it out loud? I know I thought it. The gnome is an illusion. Thus is not actually fimbrik. Let's search the rest of the house and see what other clues remain." Ping informs his companions of the deception, then goes about searching the house with his eagle eyes.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Ping cringes a little as the door shatters under the force of the chelaxian's charge. He follow inside as well, "Helloooo, pathfinder recruits here. Is that you Fimbrik? We have a few questions here. Sorry about your door, we were worried about you." Ping makes a beeline to the room where Theron saw the gnome working, wondering in the back of his mind if it was just an illusion. An illusion of the gnome working through the window would make sense, both as to why his stoop is so messy, and why no one has realized that he is actually gone. If in fact, he is gone.
"Perhaps someone has already chased these clues down long ago, without the aid of the coin, and Fimbrik is long gone." Ping scoffs, his pessimism coming through again. That really isn't appropriate. Don't forget, there are still people watching. You still have a chance to impress. "How long ago did you knock? What is the proper time to wait between knocks? Perhaps we should knock again. How many times should we knock before we just enter? I think it may be 3 or 4 times, depending on the size of the house, reduced by at least 1 knock taking into account the clear evidence this house is abandoned..." Ping begins to ramble and rattle nonsense as he waits with everyone else to see if someone will answer the door.
Ping nods in agreement, glass that the others have been able to figure it out I can't believe in this anxious to just shoot something... -Posted with Wayfinder
"Cleric, you are no doubt a man of considerable power. Identifying the magic on this coin should prove no trouble for you." Ping calls out to the guard watching over them. "And as it is, I have a few more gold coins I had hoped to donate to your illustrious church." He flashes a smile with a polite bow.
Ping flashes a dirty look to Mor'Targh as he tries to chime in again. "Please forgive us for our indescretion. As the guardian of this mausolem, we would not want to undermine your duties. In fact, one of the society's premium tenants is to cooperate. Should there be information that could be gleaned by inspecting the tomb, then it only makes sense as it's guardian that you should have that understanding as well. We wish to broker alliances and foster mutually benificial friendships with those other organizations around us." "With your permission, we would love to cooperate with you in the exploration of this tomb, seeking the society's potentially lost information. This also gives you the peace of mind that we will leave the tomb in better condition than when we entered." Ping bows deeply in respect, holding his position while waiting for a response from the cleric of Abadar.
Ping nods at the words Mor'targh offers, but grimaces at the delivery. With a sigh, he offers, "We are pathfinders, tasked with a research mission from Drendle Drang. I would show you my wayfinder, however I haven't earned one yet. And now you know my motivation for being here as well." he says. His words are not as honeyed as some others, but Ping is a simple man, and so he offers the simple explanation.
"This may not be as exciting as some of the missions we heard stories about back at the wounded wisp, but it is a far cry better than a simple errand run. Tell me, can you help us gather information about Arkath and his tomb? If you are it's guardian, surely you know the story behind the man?"
"Arkath" ping chimes in without hesitation, ambling forward some more. He holds his tongue, waiting to see how the cleric responds. -Posted with Wayfinder
Ping's hands itch, wanting to unsling his bow. They were likely set up last time, and he didn't want to be caught unawares twice in a row, but he was also concerned someone may ask him why he might have an arrow knocked when "paying respects" to the dearly departed. He holds for now, carefully moving towards the center, a few paces behind Methodios. "Solid plan Methodios. Let's see if there is an easier way than through those giant stone slabs. That just seems a little too obvious."
"Well it seems obvious Dreng knew what was in here before he sent us here. He wouldn't have sent us here if he didn't expect us to continue this investigation, which still feels like a contrived set-up. After all, if he sent us here on purpose, then he knows about this journal. And if he knows about this journal, then most assuredly someone from the society has already followed up on this. But no matter. We will follow the bread crumbs where they lead. I'm not about to let them think I am unwilling to go above and beyond. To the Mausolem?" I will be hard pressed to believe those troglodytes weren't at least lured here. None of this is an accident, or a new discovery by any stretch of the imagination.
Ping walks over and inspects the arrow that he plinked off the wall, disgusted at himself for such a poor shot at such a close distance.
Inspecting the arrow, he notices a fine split down the length of the shaft, rendering the arrow useless. Figures. You let the stench get the better of you. Control your mind, control your body. Must practice more. Strapping his bow back across his chest, and re-sheathing the battleaxe he is so loath to use, he approaches the sorcerer, looking over his shoulder to see what is in the book.
"Well, this appears far more interesting than a simple booze run for the fun loving venture captain, right my new friends?" Ping looks around to the others. "Perhaps we can deliver the bottle, and then chase this lead down, provided he does not ask another task of us?" Ping's agent training kicks in, as it was before they entered the cavern, and he begins to take notes, copying the journal entries word for word so he has them for reference.
"Ha!" Ping celebrates the quick deaths of both of the troglodytes as he takes his opportunity to step back. He drops his battleaxe and unslings his bow from his shoulder. With practiced efficiency, he knocks an arrow and releases it towards the last remaining lizard. for "Oh for $&%# sake." he laments as his elbow bumps the back wall, forcing the arrow to go wide from the measly distance away.
Ping curses his luck for getting stuck in melee. He might be a fighter, but hand to hand combat was not his specialty. Grumbling at both his misfortune for being in melee, and for the fact that the pathfinder society he was so excited to join apparently keeps smelly lizards as traps for new recruits, he pulls his battleaxe out and hacks at the nearest one, hoping to create some distance to draw his bow.
for
Ping chuckles to himself. of course it isn't this simple. I guess I should have seen this coming. At least they aren't making us wear make up and go to all the brothels as some sadistic form of hazing humiliation. Ping shrugs his shoulders and makes his way across the chasm and into the room with everyone else. If there is a time to impress someone, it is now, when the impression is the first... Pulling out his journal, he grabs his charcoal pencil and begins to jot down notes and a sketch of the area...
Ping tries his best to stay focused on the task at hand. He didn't want to seem like he was being lazy on his first assignment, but they were only grabbing a bottle of wine after all. He continued to watch the efforts his companions made, seemingly ready to take the collected bottle to its new owner. -Posted with Wayfinder
Seeing the bottle well in hand, Ping decides not to bother crossing the chasm. It's not like they needed help carrying the bottle. "well I suppose it's time we made our way back to our captain?" -Posted with Wayfinder
Ping hooks his thumb on the string of his bow that currently rests diagonally across his chest. He moves through the door, following then stepping past Theron as his teammates approach the chasm. -Posted with Wayfinder
"I've heard stories of the red redoubt. I've not heard of any others. I know I have always just assumed Absalom's might was to great to overcome by any army. Interesting that this, Aroden, may have had an influence? It is quite the picture you paint." Ping loses focus on his surroundings as he is suddenly lost in thought. He snaps out of it when he hears the bar owner returning with the package. "Ah yes, we should be off. I would hate to be late on our first assignment, mundane as it might be. A pleasure meeting you sir. I will definitely return if I am afforded the opportunity to explore some of these siege towers." With a polite bow, Ping seperates himself from the conversation. I will most certainly return to this place when I have the time. Though that artwork over there looks atrocious. Like a cat vomited on the page. Sure the artists that are part of this society are better versed. Perhaps I can be of assistance in upgrading the decor.
Ping raises an eyebrow at the crude conversation of the half orcs, but still manages to chuckle. Pocketing the newest bottle of Sake, he meanders to the other side of the room, feeling a bit anxious to leave and complete the requested task. It wouldn't do any good to be late on his first day, and unfinished business always left him feeling anxious. Noticing Methodios speaking with the book worm, Ping decides to wander over, and at least listen to the conversation. "I shudder to think that any pathfinders here could be capable of such a glaring mistake." Ping says in stereotypical naivete, "It seems we are surrounded by those to which we should aspire, wouldn't you think?" Just as he says that, Garl does his spit-take, causing ping to grimace. "Well, mostly surrounded anyways." he offers a sheepish smile.
"Yes." Ping bows politely as Theron and Mor'targh join him in conversation with the bar owner. "A good friend of yours, Drendle Drang, is looking for a package and asked for us to bring it to him. We, new pathfinders, have been smitten by the society fame who grace your establishment. It appears that our stories are few, and pale in comparison to the grand tales we have already heard. Except for the part where Methodios' friend swam through a door. Honestly, I don't know how anyone can top that." Ping is suddenly distracted by the remarkable feat. "I digress. Alas, we have a long road before we have earned the reputation to garner the missions that would produce such wild and entertaining tales. And so we start here, humbly requesting a package to deliver to the prankster Drang." Ping dips into a deep bow, showing respect to his elder the way he was taught as a child in Tien Xia. "I am Jin Shu Ping. Theron, Mor'targh, Logg, Methodios, and the elegant lady BroKhan." Ping says, indicating each of his companions as he rattles off their names. Wow, I remembered them all!
So many important people in here. I think Theron has the right idea. This appears to be a place to get noticed... Despite coming to that realization, Ping tries to keep quiet, simply listening to the stories and the words from these sage, seasoned pathfinders. He is suddenly ashamed that he neither carries a wayfinder, nor does he have any stories to tell. "This is my first task as a pathfinder. I haven't yet had the opportunity to write my own tale." The truth spills out, to his further embarrasement when during the conversation the eyes turn to him. "Pardon me, I will just go up and try to find Heryn Gale once more. I will feel much better when we have our task in hand." and my bottle of Saki is empty...
Ping takes in the bustling bar, full of pathfinders of all walks. He leans over to Theron without turning to look at him, "Seems like a good place to get a gig, does it not?" When he turns to see if the half elf acknowledges him, he notices that Theron has already made his way over to try to accompany the bard, and didn't even hear him. eh... could be worse he remarks at the valiant attempt. Taking his bottle of saki, he moves back across the bar to have a seat next to Methodios. "You'll never be able to accuse one of these bottles of smelling of cat's piss." he says as he offers a drink to the chelaxian man. "I didn't see Gale, though I imagine that voluptous barmaid might be able to help..." he says, not taking his eyes off help as she walks by. He waves his now empty bottle of saki and smiles at her to get her attention and wave her over.
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