"Given the breadth of information stored within my databanks, I have calculated that this unit would be most efficient at the 'poetry slam' as the activity does not appaer to require the physical contact that its title would suggest," notes Sev. "However, as this unit is not the sole participant in these competitions, a broader analysis of capabilities is required."
"Forgive me if I am being rude, but do you have another moniker that you go by? One that is a little easier to speak in a hurry, if need be?" "Based upon the parameters of my interactive protocols, your query does not satisfy the criteria for a classification as 'rude'." The android replies. "Therefore, your initial request for forgiveness has been rendered moot. As for your request for another moniker, should you find it easier to verbalize, you may refer to me as 'Sev'." "With respect to your monikers," Sev continues. "my auditory sensors confirm that each of you appear to share an identical surname, yet my visual sensors register significant differences amongst your collective physical characteristics and, most likely, taxonomies, which suggests a low probabilty of shared genetics." "Query: Is the designation 'Aldori' intended to convey an adoptive familial connection or does the designation serve as a form of rank or title?"
“My designation is 7019090072452414749257838637412586730286754309," replies the android, concluding that the formality of the introductions called for the production of the entirety of his designation. The android nods his head in accordance with standard etiquette protocols.
"Take that!" The spider does. Unfortunately, the other Pathfinders' shot are less accurate. Not wishing to let a meal get the better of it, the spider descends toward the nearest Pathfinder, Merida.
:
Merida feels the venom sapping her strength. SPIDER'S LAIR - Third Full Round Cont'd/Fourth Round Cont'd!
Giant spider -14 HP
updating their positions on the Map. As the numbers of potential meals within the chamber grows, the spider strikes! It shoots a line of webbing, hoping to ensnare the nearest target, Theron.
Ready for this moment, Ashtoret fires her crossbow and pierces the spider's exoskeleton.
SPIDER'S LAIR - Second Full Round Cont'd/Third Round Begins!
Giant spider
Sev stares blankly at the oozemorph. However, his processors are unable to ascertain the appropriate response to draw from its files related to proper etiquette. Instead, the android returns its attention to the Master of Swords. "Declarative: The selection of this unit for this mission involving a martial duel would appear to be suboptimal due to current limits on computation capacity designated for combat tracking and related subroutines. Query: What manner of 'few other tests', should one anticipate?"
Princess reaches out with a smile to each before squishing Squish's squishiness. with a giggle. "Hello... friends?" She asks with a bit inflection in her voice. "Hello." Sev echoes. Though his face is without expression, there is a subtle infliction in his flat tone that might almost be viewed as appreciation brought on by the presence of another construct within the party. "If nothing stands out, why not try one of everything?" Marcos chuckles between bites of his skewered crayfish. "Might just find a new favorite snack!" Sev's head gives a momentarily lit to the side, then he turns back to the vendor and states, "Imperative: Give me one of everything." "Umm, I'm Samantha, but you may call me Sam." The android turns its optic sensors toward the human woman. "Declarative: I shall call you Sam."
Opening night is a hit! The show is unlike any other that has played Kerrick and the townspeople are mesmerized. Unset's performance in particular has the audience in tears. Ye like me! Ye really like me!" Unset cries in response to the accolades of the audience.
Worghrun meets gaze of the Captain. The klingon begins trying to assess his superior's words. He responds with caution. "What you have proposed, Captain, is highly...," The XO pauses. Beneath his ridged brow, his mind quickly considers a strategic response. His gaze never leaves that of the captain. "...irregular." Kalos Komin has been serving at captain aboard the Atocha for only a short time. Yet, already he seeks to make the commander complicit in active designs to avoid official, diplomatic channels to circumvent Starfleet's standard operating protocols. Why such lengths for secrecy? What are this man's intentions? The klingon ponders to himself. Surely, the Captain knows of my history. Is this a test of some kind? If so, to what end? A test of loyalty? Or one of trust? Does the captain have concerns about an infiltration by some conspiracy within Starfleet? It would not be first. "If I am asked by the crew the reasons for such restrictions, what is it that you wish for me to tell them?"
When the yeoman approaches with the Captain's request, Commander Woghrun simply nods in response before heading to the Ready Room. Once the doors slide open, the klingon enters. Seeing the Captain, he remains standing, as if at attention. "Lieutenant Commander Thorinson has confirmed the source of the distress signal to be an Orion vessel--or, at least, the wreckage of one. Scans have detected the presence of a debris field." The klingon reports. He then pauses, as if catching himself, before pondering aloud. "Although, you could have obtained a report over comms. Therefore, I...suspect... that there is another reason that you have requested my presence."
As the circus prepares for the opening of the new show, Unset largely keeps to himself outside of rehearsals. Still questioning the wisdom in choosing him from among the performers, he takes to his usual tasks, driving spikes, moving set pieces, and cleaning up after the animals with great focus. Though the fleshforged man has readily faced aberrations, dinosaurs, fiends, and undead, he now finds the prospect of confronting a host of paying spectators to be the greater test.
”First, Prism seeks out a scholar specialized in the study of these Obelisks, Unset, who has withdrawn from the outside world due to the scorn he receives for his appearance. The bright gnome has to convince him with the beauty of her performance that as much as he resents the world, it is beautiful, too.” From behind the cut, wooden boards held upright with only a few strands of rope and trestles, Unset spies Prism taking to the center ring. The audience filled with smiles and awe as the gnome performs. He is pleased for her and for the circus, that all seems to be going well. It does, however, seem to add to his feelings of rising pressure. Upon hearing his cue, Unset emerges through the artificial cave mouth hewn past boards painted like stone. The surge of light that strikes his eyes, causes him to squint, as he takes his first, cautious steps forward toward the sight of the crowd. Squirming beneath a set of embroidered robes, jaggedly snipped to resemble tattered, scholarly robes, the first-time performing does not even notice that the tassel of his loose-fitting, costumed cap has been snagged by a wayward splinter at the edge of the wooden cave’s mouth. As he makes his way past, the cap quickly slips off, instantly revealing the totality of his misshapen head and facial features to onlookers. A collective gasp resounds throughout the tent, but it is soon replaced by cries of laughter as the removed hat swings casually and carefree from the entrance of the false stone cave.Spying the reason for the audience’s sudden turn, Unset cannot help but grin. The show must go on! He concedes as a sleek appendage flies out from beneath his costumed robes and deftly knocks loose the cap as a second wiggles forward to catch it mid-air, returning the headgear to Unset’s head with a skillful flourish!
The crowd erupts in appreciation. Unset begins to take a bow, before Prism’s recitation of well-practiced lines snaps him bag into remembering his role. At first, he produces his lines in a slow, cautious manner. "C-come s-seeking the knowledge of ole Unset, h-have ye?" he begins. "Then c-come, ye h-have, in vain. For though I once long studied the Millennia Obelisks, those that allow flora and fauna to sustain life, such days are now far behind me. Vowed, I have, ne'er to ponder their workings or gaze upon their structure for the sake of the world. Ne'er, at least, until I am once again convinced that I be in the presence of beauty--true beauty." Focusing his attention from the audience to Prism, Unset grows more assured in his role as the gnome speaks her lines. His usually gravelly, low voice now sounds with dramatic tone. ”Bright though ye may be, Fair Gnome. I do not think there any way that ye could e'er convince me either to accompany ye or to resume me abandoned studies of the the Millennia Obelisks, those that allow flora and fauna to sustain life,” he bellows. ”For I have withdrawn from the outside world due to the ceaseless scorn I have received on account of me appearance. Resent the world, I does! And all who dwell within it, for the world judges only by what it sees and knows not beauty—true beauty!”
"Exhausted and at their limit, Prism and her friends accept the offer, but they despair at the choice of which Obelisk to place it. They look to the will of the people of Numeria to decide.” As the opening show reaches its climax, Unset's eyes follow those of Prism as she gazes upon the obelisk set piece. By magic and design, the structure appears impossibly high, accessible by only a slender chord, a tight rope, joined to a metal hook near its peak. With only the hard ground lying beneath the chord, delivering a rainbow disk to its top would seem an impossible task. Prism begins the perilous balancing act, but then--as previously planned--she slips and begins to dangle above the heads of the crowd. Then, Unset rushes into action. Slowly, and with pre-designated pauses, he begins to ascend the rope to rescue the wavering gnome.
Then, as Prism grabs ahold of an offered appendage, the two friends make their way to the crown of the obelisk-together!
d
"Aye, sir," Worghrun replies. Though his brow seems to furrow when the captain mentions "Sunshine", he offers no words of protest. "Yeoman Brevik," The klingon flags down the vulcan and begins giving orders. "I would like you to survey our current crew roster and identify any personnel that a record of being caught with contraband or displaying a gambling affliction." He pauses for a moment then adds, "You should also include any with a history of service along any of the Galadoran trade routes... Just in case." Satisfied with the initial breadth of inquiry, Worghrun next ponders potential contacts on Qo'noS.
However, his thoughts drift away from his knowledge of contacts on the klingon homeworld and, instead, toward the klingon in engineering. Collecting himself, he taps his comm badge, "Bridge to Engineering. The Captain has requested that you provide an evaluation of Medical's capacity to handle complex alien casualties. I suggest that you both peruse the ship's records on its medical machinery as well as consult with the crew in Sickbay about both their expertise and confidence in the technology they have available."
"Aww! I don't know what to say, such a nice heart for you mother. I might do the same..." she tells Vanecarsys. "Well, just to make sure, yeah, we can join you to see that you have your mother treated and bring you back to our client." "Thank you! Thank you!" Vanecarsys shakes with gratitude. Tears begin to seep from the astrozoan's many eyes. True to their word, Vanecarsys accompanies you back to Absalom Station. Using their casino winnings, the astrozoan pays for their mother’s medical procedure and makes restitution to the scammed investors and businesses. Trazhi provides the party with the sum of credits promised and, after hearing Vanecarsys recount the party's willingness to show compassion, the dragonkin offers Vanecarsys a choice: turn away from their life of crime or be turned over to the Stewards. The astrozoan deeply weighs the choice. After years of circumventing the law, Vanecarsys is unsure how to find legitimate work. However, Trazhi offers them a position at Electric Prism. "You know," the dragonkin explains to Vanecarsys, "I'm going to need someone to run my new, soon-to-be-installed gaming tables."
Yes, it looks like RPGChronicles included the input earning amount with the total GP earned.
Game has been reported. Chronicles can be found at the link here. Please let me know of any corrections or revisions. I plan to keep this campaign active for one week or until I have confirmation from all of the players of receipt of chronicle sheets, whichever comes first. Thanks again for playing!
Game has been reported. Chronicles can be found at the link here. Please let me know of any corrections or revisions. I plan to keep this campaign active for one week or until I have confirmation from all of the players of receipt of chronicle sheets, whichever comes first. Thanks again for playing!
Valeros chops at the cannister, but only causes a few broken shards of glass and metal to rain down, like a smattering of falling candy. Going to shred that jar like Krang. The Red Reverend shreds the cannister beyond recognition. A silent scream echoes throughout the halls as destroying the cylinder had freed the bonds holding Kubburum’s ghostly mind to this world, and he goes to meet his long-delayed fate in Pharasma’s Boneyard. Destroying the cylinder also weakens the Gate of Beyond, which begins twisting and shaking itself apart for tens of seconds, until it finally disintegrates. With the Gate gone and Kubburum no longer, Imrizade can be safely revived. In time, she is able to explain that severing the fungoid umbilicals connecting herto the Gate of Beyond freed her from Kubburum’s direct control, but that he still possessed a tenuous hold on her mind. To completely free Imrizade of the ancient sorcerer’s possession, the Pathfinders had to either kill Imrizade or destroy Kubburum’s brain cylinder. Killing Imrizade but leaving the cylinder intact would have left the dangerous aberrant sorcerer free to possess someone else later and try again to open the Gate of Beyond. Even if he had not opened the Gate of Beyond fully, more and more aberrant energies would certainly have leaked from the portal, attracting ever greater threats to the Blakros Museum. Eventually, the portal would have grown in power until it was discovered, leaving it for the Wise Quarter’s Learned Guard and wizards of the Arcanamirium to be called in to try and destroy it. Although such an outcome has been avoided, thanks to the Pathfinders, Imrizade Blakros still retains her aberrant bloodline and is plagued afterward by strange dreams of nightmare vistas and bizarre beings from the Dark Tapestry. Nevertheless, the Pathfinders have earned the gratitude of Nigel Aldain, the powerful Blakros family, and Imrizade herself, who happily turns over the Osirian artifacts she collected, and grants the Pathfinder Society unrestricted access to the Blakros family archives.
the chance to provide contact information on RPGChronicles for the prize drawings.
Whoops! I thought Imrazade was free from the possession & wires. I thought it was the canister or something talking to us. A reasonable assumption. Imrizade was freed of the "wires" and then her body was knocked unconscious. The "canister" was talking to you telepathically, but had been speaking through its possession of Imrizade earlier while her body was conscious. When the "vessel" regained consciousness, the canister--still possessing her--seized the opportunity.
The time for this table is teetering toward termination. Do doublecheck the data donated for documentation.
My apologies for the delay. Increased demands IRL and, as this table is close to completion, I made it a lower priority than other Outpost tables.
*meddling intensifies* Red rips through another umbilical. Corey runs up to the mass of wires and attempts to slice one in half. Corey cuts a fourth! Valeros vivisects the fifth!
With all five umbilicals cut, Imrizade is separated from the Gate. The canister seems to scream inaudibly. if not she will take out her sap and try to knock out Imizadre With some inspiration from Corey, Omrijka knocks the Blakros daughter out!
The cannister continues to rage telepathically in silence. You cannot stop me! cries a voice. I am Kubburum Ishmedagan. Roused from millennia of torpor by the female vessel, my telepathic whispers awakened a part of mind touched by the portal when she was a child. Thus, I was able to possess her. Used as a conduit for my ghostly brain, she effectively became an aberrant sorcerer herself. Once in control of her, I directed her back to Absalom and the dormant portal beneath the Blakros Museum. Returning to the museum in a deranged and manic state a few days ago, she went straight to the secret chamber below the basement library. Subsumed to by the will of my ghostly brain, I used her to begin working to reactivate the Gate of Beyond. While proved unable to fully open the portal to the Dark Tapestry, her attempts have unleashed horrifying aberrant energies from the planet Aucturn and attracted a variety of bizarre and dangerous creatures to the museum. You may have incapacitated my chosen vessel, but it will not stop me or the opening of the Gate! :
You uncover a potion of cure light wounds, scroll of mage armor, scroll of shield, wand of color spray, a cloak of resistance +1, a tanglefoot bag; a masterwork rapier, a hand crossbow with 10 bolts, a backpack, a set of thieves’ tools, a signet ring (50 gp), a pouch with 20 gp, and a papyrus, which is written in Ancient Osiriani and labeled “The Aucturn Enigma.”
@GM Valen - Would not these umbilical cords be affected by the Fireball spell? It is quite a large blast area and Sylvester's ignorance of the importance of these cords does not make them burn less brightly. :-)
Beyond the curtain stands a chamber, its walls and ceiling bulging outward, in a continuation of the grotesque architectural style of the antechamber, as if you were standing in the leviathan’s stomach. Queer, glowing nodules protrude from the walls at seemingly random intervals, bathing the room in their sickly green glow. A tall, free-standing, almost organic-looking archway carved from a strange, glowing blue-green stone stands atop a low dais in a wide alcove at the far end of the chamber. The center of the arch is empty, revealing the wall behind it, but the space occasionally flickers with curtains of starry darkness, as if somewhere else lies just beyond the portal. A susurrus of ghostly whispers seem to issue from the gate, their language and meaning unclear, but fraught with a sense of wrongness. Supported by bulbous walls, a vaulted ceiling soars to 30 feet in height. Weird glowing nodules along the walls illuminate the room with a sickly green radiance. A wide alcove in the northern wall holds a dais on which stands a 15-foot-tall archway carved from a strange, glowing blue-green stone. Attached to the apex of the archway is a metal canister filled with liquid in which is suspended a humanoid brain. A woman with eyes completely black, showing no iris or whites, stands on the dais before the arch and is connected to the archway by five disgusting, fleshy, fungoid umbilicals attached to her hips, shoulders, and the base of her skull. She is half-Osirian, with long, dark hair and light brown skin. She wears a weathered explorer’s outfit and is surrounded by five walking corpses wearing only a few soiled rags, their flesh rotting off their bones as they move forward, arms outstretched. Initiative:
Unfurling a scroll, the woman mutters an ancient incantation and the air around her seems to momentarily shimmer. [spoiler=Spellcraft (DC 16)]She has cast a shield spell on herself. "This chamber, formerly the laboratory of Ralzeros the Overwatched, is now the sanctum of Kubburum Ishme-dagan!" cries the woman, though her voice seems distorted and alien. "This vessel, first touched by the Gateway of Beyond as a child, now stands ready to open the once dormant portal fully at my command. Aberrant energies from distant Aucturn have already been unleashed. Soon, the portal shall open the way to display the full depths of Dark Tapestry. And none shall stand in my way!" The woman turns to the undead forms around her and commands, "Kill them!" WARP OF THE DARK TAPESTRY - Round One Begins!
Woman (black)
Flikk recalls that the Onyx Alliance, an old rival with which the Society had formed an uneasy truce, is an organization of creatures from the Shadow Plane. Sinister in nature, little is known about the Onyx Alliance's motives and goals, although it is known that they desire slaves and wealth from the Material Plane. It is believed that they primarily operate in the city of Shadow Absalom. Fetchlings are sometimes drawn to Golarion from the Shadow Plane to serve with the Onyx Alliance. Over the past year, that fragile truce was shattered when the Onyx Alliance was tricked into engaging in open conflict with the Society and into amassing its treasures in a secure vault on the Shadow Plane. The goblin recalls nothing about the Jitska Imperium. "Gather up as many big bombs as we can find and I'll blast that mind fragment all the way back to the Shackles!" "Yes, but it may take more than bombs," Biglock decides. "Mr. Glovely, gather the good stuff!" Mr. Glovely rummages around the many discarded chests for a few minutes, then produces a wayfinder and proudly presents it with flourish. “No, no, I mean the really good stuff,” says Biglock. Mr. Glovely smacks his nonexistent forehead, before producing a small key from thin air and unlocks some sort of invisible container. With an exaggerated display of effort, he lifts a +1 resilient breastplate from the container for presentation. Biglock grins. “That oughta do it. Have fun!"
My current plans are to run the entire series. Only the scheduling is uncertain. I am fine with a late start date for part 2 if it increases player availability.
I didn't realize that the gold had to be adjusted for slow by the GM. Corrected chronicles for Grunjar and Nikita (along with the others) can be found here.
Aslynn shrieks with delight at the sight of the brine-covered baubles and rushes to the pile of treasure at the center of the vault. “It’s here! I can taste it! Come to me, my dearest nightmares!” She rakes through the treasure with her claws, scattering coins and shredding pages. "What's this? Did they baste it? The taste of salt? Can't be the right wares?" "These baubles rolled to me! Not the one I must find! Worse still, it would seem. These ones have been brined!" “Where is it?! Where?! I must have it! What have you done with it?!” With a final shriek--and before she can form another rhyming couplet--Aslynn curls in on herself, melding with the ooze from her cauldron. She and the cauldron melt into the floor, bubbling and hissing. The sounds turn to frantic chittering as dozens of unusual rats begin pouring from the ground. Secret Roll:
The rattish creatures are like monsters straight out of a nightmare, appearing near the center of the vault and aggressively swarm out to attack! Initiatives:
ASYLNN'S DREAMS, YOUR RAT PROBLEM! - Round One Begins!
Toasty!
The Tengu acts provocative: Hey Aslynn, is it this that you are looking for? And he shows her a whole mundane item among the objects. The form of Aslynn turns toward the tengu. "What that's you say now from your beak? Have you the item that I seek?" Flikk fails to hold her attention.
The witch's figure turns agitated and lashes. "Curse you, goblin and all you teach! You won't stop me, while my goal's in reach!" She unleashes a blast of psychic energy at Flikk.
Dolmandir manage to distract the witch's form again.
John looks at the woman first with suspicion, then pleasant surprise. "Much obliged," he says with a genuine, I somewhat overstated bow. "I appreciate any companion with their priorities in order." "And here I had been mistaking you for a priestess of the Great Dreamer, when it is clear that you find wisdom, if not devotion, from the teachings of the Accidental God!"
okay relative newbie question for 2e, how important do folks think it is in PFS play to save the last Hero Point for not dying? This is my first PFS2e, although I've played a bunch of legacy. I will let the players chime in with advice. However, I can tell you that the GM is encouraged to give out a Hero Point about once every hour of play. It is somewhat hard to gage such timing for PbP and a lot of the tables are moving quite quickly through the missions. I intend to give out two Hero Points at the end of Part 1 and another one at the end of Part 2 (which at a face-to-face table would roughly be the two hour and three hour marks.)
Derf damages the deluded deist.
The cultist feels an unwanted shift in his skeletal structure. He halts it for an instant...
But only just, for the man's skeletal again shakes violently!
TUNNELS OF THE FORTUNE-SPURNED! - Second Full Round of Combat Cont'd/Third Full Round Begins!
Goran
The already ignited bugbear terror is consumed by the flame! RAIN'S NIGHTMARES, YOUR FOES! - Round One Cont'd!
Chupko
"Thankfully for me I have a heavy mace! Time to rattle some bones!" Rattle bones, he does! BATTLE AMONGST THE BONES OF THE PAST! - First Full Round of Combat Cont'd!
Red
Klingon promotions are so much more... direct, concludes Commander Worghrun. "Come," is all the klingon says as he heads for the turbolift, clearly expecting the tellarite to follow. "Bridge," he instructs the ship's controls, as the doors to the turbolift close behind the two. As the droning hum of the rising turbolift begins, Commander Worghrun draws upon his Starfleet training and experience to find the right words for the present situation. Finally, he breaks his silence. "Congratulations, Commander Vrek," he says bluntly. "Though I was not consulted on the decision, I must agree that your shuttle capabilities have proven to be most..." Worghrun pauses for a moment as if trying to find the right word, before settling upon, "adequate."
We have 5 players in the Gameplay thread and I am now anticipating the addition of 1 more. To ensure fairness and proper reporting, I am going to put the game on hold until everyone has officially signed into the game on the Outpost Event Listing sheet found here. (Currently, only 4 players are signed up for this table) and until I have everyone's relevant information here on the rpgchronicles.net page. Once I have the same six players signed up on each (or 48 hours, whichever is sooner), I will proceed with the game with those players that I have signed up on each.
"Yes, yes! It is clear that you know something about the history of this venerable institution! Although some of the matters of which you mention remain topics of vigorous debate," replies Nigel, suddenly torn between the urgency of the mission and an opportunity to expound upon the history of the museum. Opting for the former, he simply adds, "Don't believe every rumor that you hear." The basement’s walls are hewn stone, carved from basalt, and mirror the gothic architecture found in the rest of the museum, though of a simpler design. The basement’s ceilings are 15 feet high. The basement is unlit. Wide enough to accommodate a draft horse moving large exhibits to and from the basement storerooms, the ramp ends at two sets of double doors, facing each other to the east and west. Wooden placards on the doors are marked
Map, updated with compass rose, now on Slides.
"Say, now? Do see how that bluff in the distance aligns in the direction of this furrow before it makes a slight break towards that field?" notes John, pointing to the features. "Unless I'm mistaken, the same could be found on Zarta's map. Which means..." The half-orc momentarily shields his eyes from the sun overhead, so to better scan the horizon. "Which means, the town must be further along the road in this direction," drawing a line in the air from his brow to a position in the distance where the road dips behind a small hill. Hefting his staff in hand, he starts heading along the road in the direction indicated, putting up a brisk pace. "Come now!" he calls back to the others, having already strode a sizable distance ahead of them. "The town can't be more than another few miles from here!"
“There’s trouble at the Blakros Museum again,” Venture Captain Adril Hestram growled when you first entered the meeting room in the Grand Lodge earlier this afternoon. “The museum’s curator, Nigel Aldain, came to me this morning asking for help. Apparently, a wayward daughter of his illustrious patrons, the powerful Blakros family, has disappeared, along with a few of the museum’s watchmen who went looking for her. The Society has helped him in the past, and he wants us to find her, before he loses his job, or worse. Now Nigel’s an old friend, and a former Pathfinder, but this kind of missing person case isn’t really our bailiwick. Normally I’d tell him to find the district guard and leave the Society out of it." “But then he made me an offer that was too good to pass up," continues Hestram. "Not only will he allow the Society access to the Blakros Museum’s extensive and very private library, but apparently this same missing daughter just returned to Absalom with a pack full of ancient relics collected throughout Osirion and northern Garund. And Nigel promised the Society first pick of any of those pieces that catch our fancy. I don’t need to tell you what those kinds of things might be worth, so it looks like you’re heading to the Blakros Museum tonight." “The missing daughter is named Imrizade Blakros—half Osirian herself and a pretty successful adventurer and fortunehunter by all accounts. She just arrived in Absalom out of the blue a few days ago, after a couple of years’ worth of tomb-raiding in the Osirian deserts, and carrying an odd metal cylinder covered in hieroglyphs, like nothing Nigel has ever seen before. Nigel says she went straight to the basement of the museum to do some research in the family’s library, muttering something about ‘whispers in the dark’ and ‘old tapestries,’ or something." "He didn’t hear from her for a couple of days, which isn’t unusual when someone is deep into their research in the archives, but he got worried when strange noises started coming from the basement. He sent a watchman down there to investigate, and when he didn’t return, Nigel sent a few more. That was last night, and they haven’t come back up either." “Go to the museum and find out what happened to Imrizade Blakros and the watchmen. Nigel would prefer them alive, of course, especially the Blakros woman, but the Society is more interested in what she brought back with her. I’ve got a hunch it wasn’t just grave goods and pretty jewelry. Whatever she found, the Society wants it, or at the very least some information about it.” Before heading to the Blakros Museum, you may wish to briefly investigate or recall information about the history of the Blakros Museum as well as the Blakros family itself. Knowledge (history) DC 10):
In the early days of Absalom, the Blakros Museum was originally the stronghold of an eccentric wizard. Abandoned for centuries, it was later bought by the Blakros family, who turned it into a museum for their impressive collection of curiosities from across Golarion.
Spoiler:
The mad astrologer Ralzeros the Overwatched built what is now the Blakros Museum thousands of years ago, as an observatory to study distant worlds (and some say, to be studied by them). He later disappeared following a mage-duel with another of Absalom’s early wizards. Spoiler: Ralzeros carved his stronghold from a single block of volcanic stone with the help of fell powers granted to him by otherworldly patrons, supposedly to hide some powerful artifact secreted in the catacombs beneath the keep. However, neither the secret tunnels nor Ralzeros’s hidden treasure have ever been discovered. In addition, some stories claim that Ralzeros’s disappearance was actually an abduction at the hands of the alien monsters from the worlds he had studied so obsessively. Diplomacy (gather information) or Knowledge (local) (DC 10):
The wealthy and prominent Blakros family is a large, extended clan of eccentrics with trade contacts rivaling those of the Aspis Consortium who make most of their money selling valuable antiquities across the Taldor/Qadira border. Their daughters are known far and wide for their beauty, and marrying a Blakros woman is a sure path to power and riches.
Spoiler:
Rumored to be originally Taldan by blood, the Blakros have since intermingled with bloodlines from all over Golarion, by marrying daughters to a succession of Qadiran trade princes, Vudran rajahs, and even the occasional Tian noble and Mwangi chief. Gifts from these foreign potentates (and the sale of illicitly gained secrets) provide the foundation for the Blakros fortune and their famous collections. Spoiler: In reality, it is the many daughters who bear the Blakros name that are responsible for the family’s wealth. Although beautiful and amazingly fertile, wedding a Blakros daughter has significant condition —the daughters always keep their maiden name, all children must be raised as Blakroses, and the husband’s family must offer a considerable dowry for the privilege of marriage. Once married, the Blakros daughters join an unparalleled spy network that keeps the family well supplied in secrets and priceless artifacts.
It has been said, "Upon every fire, a little rain must fall." A sprinkling of water from the sky would be unusual here within the vaults beneath the Grand Lodge. And yet, there is Rain to be found here afterall. The fungus leshy, Rain in Cloudy Day, at the request of Grand Archivist Zarta Dralneen heads through the various Vaults of the Grand Lodge in Absalom looking for those agents he was asked to assemble. "Zarta had asked me to acquire a list of available Pathfinders who happened to be within the Grand Lodge, between assignments." The leshy ponders aloud, noting as he reads the list. "Curious, it is, that so many such 'available' agents just happen to be goblins. Quite the coincidence, it would seem." "The summons had requested that they assemble as a group within the vault most-recently filled with newly acquired treasures." Rain continues. "The Vault of Boundless Wonder. I had a big wooden sign made up for the Vault and everything, but it seems to have gone missing. Along with the wooden chair that it was sitting on. I wonder--?" Rain pauses for a moment, noticing a distinct odor in the air. "Could it be--?" Quickening his pace, Rain soon finds a cloud of smoke and an explanation for the missing sign... and chairs...and more... "Scroll with directions on how to cook mushrooms... Wonder how it burns" Did I just hear--? The fungus leshy checks his ears, then decides he needs to put a stop to this. "*Ahem*" Rain tries to clear his throat amidst the ever-increasing smoke, but does not seem to be noticed. Should we try if you have one with you? "Try?" "*Ahem!*" Rain repeats, trying to overcome the sounds of crackling embers even as smoke fully envelopes his cap. Flikk raises an eyebrow "Let me see that recipe. I'd say we soak mushrooms in pickle brine, then apply direct flames until golden brown, then eat said mushroom and drink the brine afterwards." [i]"Brine!?!"[i] "" Rain shouts in a huff, his tiny arms flapping hurriedly in an effort both to gather attention and disperse accumulating smoke. "" declares Rain through the thick smoke. The leshy cannot help but choke a few times, though whether it is due to the smoke or the topic of conversation he just overhead, is not entirely clear. "" "Please extinguish all possible ignitions sources, remove any residual ash and unburnt materials, and follow me."
"Good Venture-Captain, Osretia Cassomiran," speaks a white-haired gnome with a jovial laugh and high-pitched tone. "You are speaking to Azelwarred the Wise, Advisor to both pauper and prince, to both scallywag and sovereign, to both ruler and ruffian." He gives a deep bow. "I have attire to suit occasions from the most decent to the most decadent, from the most ribald to the most righteous, from the most auspicious to the most appalling."
It was good to speak with the General, thinks Commander Worghrun. Though, by way of happenstance the Klingon had been raised on a Federation world, he had long admired the relative "simplicity" of Klingon hierarchy and command. Despite having risen through the ranks of Starfleet, which recognized the value of honor in its own way, the views of the Klingons on the subject seemed better aligned with his own. Even before rising to his current rank, Worghrun had learned that a Klingon first officer was expected to kill a superior office who had become weak or unable to perform their duties. He wished he had been able to put such a lesson into practice during that one, previous assignment. Since then, he has altered his view all of each of his superiors, been prepared to continually question and push them in order to satisfy himself that his superior was fit to lead and would not force him to betray his ideals. Death will come, Worghrun vows to himself, before that occurs again. Spying Captain Komin, Worghrun heads across the hangar deck to join him. "Greetings, Captain Komin," the executive officer says, exhibiting a formal politeness that he has observed throughout his Starfleet career, even as he sizes up his superior.
I would be fine with the Captain or XO role. Alternatively, it might be fun to play a Klingon counselor!
I'm in: Step One: Species
Step Two: Environment
Step Three: Upbringing
Step Four: Star Fleet Academy Track
Choose One:
Step Five: Career:
Step Six: Career Events
Looks like I rolled K'Ehleyr. Let me see what I can come up with over the next few days.
Thank you all for your kindness and understanding. My mother did pass away last week. Things have been a little crazy, but I appreciate this chance for some "healthy escapism". As for the Vandy storyline, it doesn't bother me.
With your efforts, a delicious dinner is cooked and the arguments cease as you bring harmony (and a bomb) into the household. The witchwyrd, excited, waited with glee For an explosion to waste his enemy.But, the explosion didn't come. All was silent. When? Morvruul wondered, will it all turn violent? Then Morvruul realized, far too late The reason, his "gift" would not detonate. The schemer forgot to activate the fuse. No his enemy'd go unharmed, not even a bruise. As the others quietly remembered, those present and not here. Morvruul smiled and thought, There is always next year! After a minute of silence, she invites everyone to enjoy the Reunion feast. And he, he himself...Morvruul...carved the roast-beast!
This is the recruitment thread for a standard Starfinder Society run of Starfinder Bounty #2 Test Flight. This bounty can only be played by 1st level characters. This bounty has the following tags: Repeatable, Starship. Seating: Seats at the table will be assigned on a first-post, first-seated basis. Start Date: February 16, 2023 or whenever I have four players, whichever is later. End Date: I expect to be finished prior to the beginning of Outpost VI on March 6, 2023. Game Expectations:
I reserve the right to bot players who do not post anything within a 24 hour period and will request each player have botting instructions in place before the end of the first briefing. If this game sounds like something you'd be interested in, go ahead and post the requested chronicle information here. Sign-ups on RPG Chronicles will determined seating. Once you have signed up, please provide the requested information below: 1) Character name:
Anticipating just how long the fight would take
"Let's see about putting together a travois" Oh! Morvruul pondered/ How his voice does so annoy! More,"To make it easier to get dinner home." Make a travois? Out of what? Some tape and a comb? "Morvruul, stay as far away from me as possible while I work." As IF, I'd go anywhere near you, you demanding jerk. "I have a healing serum here if you need it, Morvruul." Healing serum, yes! That is a useful tool. "That was quite a hit you took there. Aren't you glad you had..." Had what? A pistol? Four fists? Armor, well-clad? she casts a glance at Cha'mon, "friends along to help?" In response, Movruul raises a hand, as if to deliver a skelp. "I am certain I could have handled it, all on my own.If given the chance. Had I been left alone." Morvruul returned with the others, while keeping his distance
"I have a present for you," Morvruul said with a covered smile.
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