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Maxis lifts his bow to fire again, but hesitates. The little druid was obviously at least half mad and making poor choices. Sometimes you had to put down a mad dog, but it didn't mean you had to feel good about it. And there was something he respected in the blitheringly wild and foolhardy last stand of iron on a principle, even if the principle itself was rubbish. The little bleeder had guts. He takes an inordinately long time to aim, half-hoping the others would just finish her off without him adding to the final carnage.
Once Kip rejects his reasonable terms and instead starts casting spells, Maxis immediately goes on the offensive, and also immediately resolves to make a heroic leap across the chasm. Even the barbarian would be impressed. He sprints toward the edge… But after the first few steps, as the brink gets closer, something inside him protests ’Nope, don’t do it! Too far!’ and he skids to a halt just in time. Looking down at the impossibly deep opening, he chickens out. ”Yeesh.” he comments. He then pulls out his bow and fires off a shot.
Maxis listens to the unhinged halfling woman in appalled fascination, then squeezes a long laugh out through his nose. ”Oh my gosh, is she serious right now?” he asks as he wipes a mirthful tear from one eye. Maxis actually can tell she’s quite serious, but he needs justification for being so unmanned with joviality that drawing his weapons is basically impossible. The little creature obviously meant to go down fighting, so Maxis makes a feeble attempt to reason with her. ”Hang on, hang on…you’re upset that they’re building a bridge? Is there any way we can talk this out? I mean, if there’s a reason that particular spot is special, maybe they can build it somewhere else? Maybe they can build it in a more natural way? Throw us a bone here. This isn’t worth dying over.”
Maxis lights a torch off one of the braziers inside the camp. ”All clear folks. Threat’s dealt with.” he announced chirpily to the blinking goblins. ”All in a day’s work for the Pathfinders.” Then he spots the broken robot, motionless and steaming on the ground. He goes over to take a closer look, and shakes his head sadly at the carnage, pushing an oily spring about the sandy dirt with his boot. ”What a mess. Poor old Sir Goodshanks.” Seeing Bork standing nearby, he gives the little inventor a consoling hand to the shoulder. ”He stood tall and did his duty. Can’t ask more than that. I’m sorry, old man.” ”Think you can fix him? I’d sure miss the old bucket of bolts.” *****
”I think we’re all still operating under the assumption that these aren’t just hungry leopards. Someone sent them in here.” says Maxis to the assembled group once things have settled down a bit. ”And they aren’t summoned creatures. Meaning they were probably trained, maybe working for a Druid or a ranger or something. I know it’s nighttime, but maybe we should see if we can track the leopard prints back to wherever they started out. The trail may be cold by morning. What do you all think?”
As people shout to one another in the heat of battle, Maxis glances around, noticing the little red eyes of the goblins peeking out of their tents. The only thing better than a rousing fight, was a rousing fight with an audience. "I killed one back by the gate!" he announces clearly, and gives a twirling flourish of his blade as he prepares to wield it again.
As the leopard goes down, Maxis turns to Ulvard and suddenly grins with glee. ”C’mon, let’s go find some more!” he says excitedly. ”For demon cats they don’t seem too tough!” He turns and runs back through the gate, slightly favoring his wounded left leg. Spotting another leopard not too far away, he closes with it and attacks. *(last round) Stride
Maxis had been leaning against a post looking out the southern gate, fighting off the urge to doze. Periodically he has taken a short walk around the compound, ostensibly to make sure his Pathfinder comrades were all awake, more mostly to keep himself alert. He had recently settled back into his spot after one of these jaunts when he'd spotted movement outside the gate down by the river. Pulling out his weapon and shield, he'd whistled sharply once, then run heavily toward the invader, and taken a quick slice at it. "Bad kitty!" *Draw Weapon
(S)
"Sounds good to me. Cats don't swim, right? At least not normal cats." Maxis briefly considers how swimming cats might very well augur the onset of the apocalypse. "If we didn't have to protect goblins, I'd say that we needed a few very big dogs to chase the cats. But I suppose in these circumstances that wouldn't work." Maxis pitches in once the actual work starts, but takes a lot of breaks, and makes sure he's busy with something else when some really back-breaking task is called for. He never seems to get tired of watching the robot accomplishing feats of strength. He commits numerous acts of banter with the laboring goblins, coaxing them to work and impressing upon them that they no longer have anything to fear, now that the pathfinders had arrived to protect them.
Maxis takes some time to consider what the goblin foreman has said. "Yeah, it doesn't sound like the behavior of normal desert lions, I agree. Someone is targeting your workers, as Vigrig guessed." "I think building a perimeter fence of some kind is a great idea. It'll slow down any attackers and possibly funnel them toward the gates. At least they're not also targeting the bridge with these attacks. If we enclose your workers we keep all the threatened assets in one easily guarded place and hopefully give them some peace of mind." "Bork, you're the engineer, you should supervise this. We've got bridge building material lying around that we can use for a sturdy palisade, we've got lots of workers, we're got the fixing to set up lots of fire braziers along the wall so we can see enemies coming. Maybe we can even scatter some traps of some kind about 50 feet out from the walls to slow the kitties down -- caltrops or bear traps or something." "Let's you and I work on that with Sir Goodshanks and the goblins while the others get some kip for the night watch. Zig can help us direct the workers once we have a plan. We should be able to get something decent built before nightfall." "And when the cats come tonight, we're waiting for 'em. And if they run off, we track them back to their lair." "Whaddaya think?"
My initial idea was for a human champion actually. It's a character concept I've tried to play a couple times in the past, but the games always seemed to burn out quickly, so I feel like there's a lot left to explore. I'll have to read up on how the class works in 2e. Since we're playing a converted 1st edition AP, does that mean these will not be official organized play 2e characters?
As the kobold with the blue scarf comes running up to him, gibbering and poking his little spear at him, Maxis can't help but chortle out loud. "Oh my gosh, that's adorable. You're a plucky little bastard." He gives a resigned sigh, raises his shield and hacks down overhand at the kobold with his longsword. "Nothing personal, little dude." he says apologetically. But he doesn't let up on his swings.
"Attacking shipments and targeting your family-- sounds like classic gangster tactics. Especially since there's a lot of money in play. I'm guessing there must be some other powerful family in Solku or Oenopion that resents your deal, and likes things the way they are?" "Or maybe whoever is attacking Solku is employing someone to sabotage things. Sorry, I don't know much about the local politics--who's attacking Solku?" Maxis rubs his head roughly and blinks. "Which city is this again? I got in pretty late last night."
A Taldan man shuffles into the room and slumps into a chair in the corner before letting out a tremendous yawn, then waving his silent apologies to the room. Seeing a familiar face in Bork, he leans over and whispers something cheeky. What Maxis Whispers: "Can we get Sir Longshanks to shake the Moneymaker?"
”Huh, isn’t there a Candren on the Grand Council? I guess paying no taxes is the gift that just keeps giving.” says Maxis. ”Gotta hand it to them. Smarter than what I would have wished for.” Maxis doesn’t actually seem too concerned or particularly interested in Marcon’s revelation, though he seems pleased that Dreng has gotten himself worked up at his report. When the bosses reacted like that, as a Pathfinder, you know your stock just went up. He turns to the robot. ”What would you wish for, Sir Goodshanks?”
"So, yeah, we found an old shrine to Dagon. Lots of elaborate murals and glitz, but very old, obviously abandoned long ago. And our buddy here was trapped in one of the walls. He asked us to let him out, so we did, and he didn't try to bite us or anything. The goblins seemed happy enough with us -- we killed an alligator roaming their basement that was giving them shpilkis. And we indulged their king by acting out a scene from his latest play -- believe me, those goblins are happy as clams living in that place. Born Theater Kids. They're probably going to be offering dinner theater and cabaret to intrepid patrons inside a month. Oddly, it seems that the cult of Norgorber was taking an interest in exploring those sewers too. Have you heard of an Olansa Terimor? She apparently hired some goons to scope things out for her, and they tried to ambush us, but honestly they were kind of pathetic. We spanked them and sent them on their way."
As for Marcon, did we not find magical hat in cellar? "Why so we did!" exclaims Maxis. "A sort of raspberry beret. The kind you find in a secondhand store. Why it might almost have been designed for this moment." Maxis digs it out of the group loot. "Marcon, this hat will magically disguise you to look... less undead. Try it on and think about how you used to look."
Maxis shrugs. "So a rich family or two decided to set up a subversive cult and whisper to each other about how only they knew the truth and Aroden was overrated. And spent a lot of money on murals and statues to make their spite seem grander. But then the earthquakes ruined their clubhouse. The end." he says. "And I bet our friend Marcon is going to tell us which family bankrolled all this. And while I bet it would have been a scandal 500 years ago, now it's probably just trivia. But the bosses like trivia. I don't know, maybe I'm missing something." "Have we seen enough? Shall we go? It's gotta be nearly lunchtime."
Whoever had this section of the tombs constructed spared no expense. Whether that is because of dedication to dark powers or a flair for the dramatic is difficult to tell. "Oh, the boffins will love this." says Maxis as he looks about at the elaborate murals and statues. It doesn't really seem too interesting to him though. After a minute or so of looking around, he's fiddling with the wound in his shoulder.
To the north, a statue of a hippocampus rears up and its eyes roll back as if in pain. A trident made of a corroded metal protrudes from a wound in its side. Behind the statue on the wall are carved the words “Ex Prothex.”
"Hey, I know what that is! I've seen that before at McLavern's Jug, over the bar! It's a hippocampus, and that motto is an old Absalom motto -- 'First among equals'! Oh, that'll tickle old Sully's fancy, knowing I found that down here. He might give me a free one!" Maxis actually cracks open his Pathfinder journal for once and starts sketching the scene.
Maxis seems delighted that their ghoulish new friend seems so friendly and appreciative. There was still time for a double cross, but at least Marcon wasn't currently eating the gnome or the fish guy. It was always nice to have one's more generous instincts rewarded. "Hey, it's all in a day's work for the Pathfinders." he says, swelling a little with false modesty. He almost gives the undead fellow a friendly slap on the back, but stops himself before actually touching the slimy, rotting flesh and possibly knocking a scapula loose. He covers his near faux pas by quickly patting at his heart a few times. At the sight of the zombies, Maxis races up the steps and attacks the reddish one.
"Have at them fellows! Shoot them, beat them or burn them--they go up pretty easy! They're all messed up!"
"Would the goblin king let us come down here again tomorrow?" counters Maxis. "And besides, what if he's what the Norgorber guys are looking for? We might come back and find that he's been destroyed or spirited away." "It's true that we have a duty to report what we find, but we're also trained and entrusted to make judgement calls and act on them." Still, he waits to hear the answer to the fish-guy's good question.
"Well, look at it this way. If we leave him in there, he'll break out on his own in a couple weeks and then do his worst, and Master Dreng will have questions for us. So if he's dangerous, best we deal with him now. And if he's not, then we did our good deed for the day. I mean, if he's been in there for hundreds of years and this is as far as he's gotten, then we're not exactly dealing with Tar'Baphon here."
"I art living, yes." answers Maxis, who then turns to his companions. "You know, anyone who admits he's undead is probably not trying to trick us, unless he's way more crafty than me. And it sounds like he's been in there since before the earthquake 20 years ago, so probably not the beast the goblins sealed up." "I say we help the poor schmuck."
"You know, we were told that the goblins had sealed away some dangerous beast down here. The king might not be happy if we turn around and release it." says Maxis to his companions, loud enough that the fellow in the wall can hear too. He then stoops down and talks into the hole. "I say, who are you exactly? And what do you know about this place? Looks like some old shrine?"
Maxis fingers the scratches in the walls. "Hoo boy, looks like we aren't the first ones to find this place. Or maybe those scratches are from someone or something that busted out of there?" "You know, it's still sorta puzzles me why that Olansa Terimor would hire those goons to find this place. Why didn't they just do it themselves? I have to wonder if they know something about this place, and expected those clowns to be expendable, you know? Blunder into the traps or the hordes of zombies or whatever." "It's not impossible they've followed us down here and are shadowing our progress, invisibly." "At any rate, I recommend Sir Goodshanks to lead the way in and serve as a trap sweeper. Just in case. But of course that's up to Master Bork."
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