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Paladin: "For the most heinous crime of raising skeletal bugbears to help in fighting the fire that would have surely consumed the Pathfinder Orphanage for GM Babies, Namaeva Caxaran is sentenced to cast Protection from Evil on the wisdom-dumped barbarian for the next ten sessions."
Always remember that in PFS, your characters are Pathfinders. If your characters can't find a common ground on that fact, regardless of their other interests/methods, to work with other characters that commit what they may view as reprehensible, then realistically that character would not have ended up becoming a member of the Pathfinder Society. In short, don't make zealots, or invest ranks in Knowledge (Engineering).
When my zombie eats a scythe critical hit instead of an ally, saving me either a scroll of Breath of Life, or a boatload of wand charges, I'd say the material component cost can be worth the investment even on a per-scenario basis. Plus there's the fact that if you get a good load of bodies from the first encounter, you have some assets for the rest of the scenario.
And I'm pretty sure once you've had said holy symbol greased out of your hands, you'll shell out even more for a tattoo.
A halfling woman in dark robes enters the meeting room for the briefing, flanked on either side by two quiet men festooned in colorful costume. "Namaeva Caxaran, former Osirian slave and in my personal opinion one of the foremost experts in undead threat management." As you examine her henchmen closely, you realize that their pock-marked flesh has been powdered to a healthy tone, and their raspy breaths muffled with scarves. "Some people object to my methods, but personally, undead are tools to be used, and most often are best repurposed to the noble endeavours of artifact recovery, rather than simply disposed of at the earliest opportunity."
1. Why am I a Pathfinder? The short answer is socio-economic disparity and racially entrenched caste systems combined with morally unscrupulous household governance. The long answer is that I was born a slave to a household where the master's son had taken up the hobby of necromancy, and experimenting on the other slaves of the household. In the struggle between myself and my late master, my own talents over the undead revealed themselves, and after his unfortunate death at the hands of his creations, I had to flee, where I was then captured, but thereafter purchased and granted my freedom by the Pathfinder Society. 2. Do I have a name and surname that is not ripped straight out of existing Earth mythology or popular culture? I do not believe my name to be derived from any particular facet which could be deemed 'popular culture', although I am quite fun at parties. 3. Which nation did I grow up in? Osirion. How did this influence me? I think it's given me a deeper understanding of the nature of an undead's situation, they struggle eternally to hold onto a shadow of life, most often having been the rich and powerful while living, yet in their undead state they are objectively at the whims of others moreso than I was as a slave. 4. What do I look like? What am I wearing? You're being rather forward with this dear, but I'll entertain you. I'm a halfling woman with a notably darker complexion than most halflings from Avistan. Dark hair that I like to keep straight, and a tattoo to Fumeiyoshi, Lord of Envy on my collar bone above my left breast. For clothes, I keep to wearing some lovely blue robes over my armor. It makes for quite the humorous situation when foes try hitting me, only for their weapons to bounce off my breastplate. How does this vary when I'm stalking through forests, sewers, deserts or in glittering cities? When I'm 'roughing' it, I tend to wear robes with a shorter hem, so they're less likely to drag in the filth. 5. What do I love? Well, that'd be breaching someone else's privacy, which I don't do. 6. What do I hate? Undead that think they're superior by virtue of their undeath. They do not possess anything, they lack everything that keeps them in touch with the realities of the world and how to rule. As such they're fit only as servants. 7. Which other Pathfinders do I rely on? Honestly, the arrangement of agents I work with changes regularly, but a certain Azuk, and several of his late brothers, have proven competent at distracting foes. 8. How does my race influence my views? I'd say it has made me rather prickly over issues of slavery. 9. What am I afraid of? Becoming undead myself, it's a dreadful state that should be reserved for fools and fops that have squandered the gifts of life, so that they may be used for some benefit before crumbling to dust. 10. What is my most treasured possession? My tattoo to Lord Fumeiyoshi.
Somewhere in the depths of the Dark Archive beneath Absalom's Grand Lodge, the pitter-patter of halfling feet precedes down the soft stalking of a new figure. "Oh, Mr. Orenzo, sir, I am immensely glad that even after all that's happened, you've shown a willingness to throw your lot in with the Dark Archive. I'm certain you'll get along swimmingly with Mistress Dralneen, she bears an immense grudge against House Thrune as well you see. Political issues, but then with Cheliax the way it is these days, what isn't political in that nation?" The halfling woman stops at an intersection of hallways, looking down each in turn, allowing her hanger-on to catch up. The new guest to the archives has pale skin, sharp mandibles and a stink of rotting flesh about them. Gloved hands do little to help the image he presents as large gnarled claws twist out from the ends of his fingers, and a blood-red tongue wavers in the air outside of his mouth. Knowledge Religion DC11:
The attendant is a ghoul. "Just tell me there are no more clerics of Sarenrae down here," replies Mr. Orenzo in a gravelly voice. "Oh, I know, but I managed to explain everything, and now we're safely sequestered away from them. Oh, all the stuff you must know about pre-Thrune Cheliax is bound to lift Dralneen out of the morose mood she's been in as of late..." Namaeva looked about, down each hallway again. "I just... need... Did we take a left or a right at the last corridor?"
Having long finished her tea and moved on to a second cup, Namaeva smiles at the new arrival. "Good afternoon! We're indeed members of the Dark Archive. If you're interested in joining, you'll want to speak with Zarta Dralneen. I'd recommend having someone to vouch for you if you've previously commited yourself to some of the other--ahem--extra-curricular groupings that the Pathfinder Society has among its members."
Turning her attention to the serpentine hominid, Namaeva snaps her fingers, drawing Fuzzbungler's attention. "If you need assistance with the stairs, I could have Fuzzbungler carry you. Unless of course you're one of our specimens, in which case the simplicity of your containment measures are somewhat amusing."
Tired of your attempts at some frail, pitiful attempt at life everlasting rising from the grave to haunt or eat you/your loved ones/pets/friends/hangers on? Has the Church of Sarenrae refused to assist in killing yet another group of five ghouls all wearing wayfinders and under 150 gold pieces in salvageable goods? Perhaps you tire of having to lob hundreds of gold to dispose of all the recently animated skeletons after some Urgathoan Varisians visited your town. Here at Caxaran Undead Disposal Services, we don't judge, except if you're undead. Our program of undead disposal is simple, quick, and effective! Utilizing only the most skilled negative energy channellers, we simply take command of your entire undead horde, and then instruct them to self-dispose! Whether it's by eating one another, setting themselves on fire, throwing themselves off a cliff, or simply walking to the nearest Silver Crusade affiliate, you can rest assured that all those unholy abominations will be out of your life for good! Caxaran Undead Disposal Services: Teaching the Dead to Fear the Living! *10% Discount to all supplicants, followers and worshippers of Fumeiyoshi, Glory be to the Lord of Envy!
"Where'd he go? Must've thought one of my suggestions was up his alley." Namaeva sits back up in her chair and adjusts her robes. "No matter. Marcellus, what do you think of the many finds of late by the Pathfinders of these 'robots' which seem capable of taking so much punishment? Perhaps if Diri could learn something of them, we'd all have an easier time of it."
"Feel the way the steam coming off the tea sticks to your lips before taking a sip, like the jungle mists in the morning before the midday heat really comes--or so I hear it compared--It seems to cool off quickly, but you still feel muggy afterwards... Fuzzbungler dear, Triple Plan, if you would." At this command, Fuzzbungler shuffles to Namaeva's side and works to deposit three sugar lumps and three teaspoons of cream into the cup. "Of course when Mistress Dralneen isn't around I prefer just dousing it all so I don't waste away. Some of the places I get sent must never feel a summer like Osirion, it's so cold. Nothing but the furs I'd purchased at some backwoods Kellid camp and if I was lucky our druid guide deciding to stay shifted as a wolf overnight. He didn't like me of course and so every time I tried warming myself on his side at night he'd roll over--Blasted Edger. A bit of fat to keep the cold at bay... I suppose the Kellids know that much about how the world works."
Namaeva jots down some notes of her own as the conversation continues. "Marcellus makes a point, Diri, isolation is par for the course for some academics. Perhaps you can set a goal for yourself of establishing a personal estate to perform your work unhindered by local noise laws." Turning her attention to the immediate conversation between Marcellus and Yuuno, Namaeva offers her own point. "Keeping one's friends alive is quite important, and while a weapon can be lost, I can personally testify that there are some creatures you really do not want to touch with your hands in order to fight them. As for tea, Marcellus, I find Sargavan varieties tend to have a sweeter taste to them, though Mistress Dralneen calls it "the taste of upstart national backstabbers."[/b] Finally, looking to Shayd, Namaeva smirks. "If pain and beatings are your personal preference, I know that some Calistrians tend to be up for such things, though admittedly in this practice, it's very much when they most strongly adhere to rules set up between both parties." Namaeva resumes jotting down notes, a slight blush visible on her cheeks. She looks up briefly. "And do be polite about Fuzz, he's very sensitive about how his health issues make him look!"
Looking at the new arrival, Namaeva answers without skipping a beat. "No, he merely suffers a very severe skin condition, and unfortunately the latest medicine from a quack doctor has robbed him of his faculties of speech."
"It is unfortunate what's happened to Fuzz, is it not, Marcellus?" Secret Message:
Play along, please. "But enough about my poor assistant. I am Namaeva Caxaran, this gentleman is Marcellus. The gnome and Tian are Diri Lizzenbettolze and Yuuno. Might I inquire as to who you are, good sir?"
"Jalmeray tea it is, then. As for Fuzzbungler, he's nowhere near quite as exotic as an Osirion mummy. He's something of a circumstantial acquisition. He used to work at the Blakros museum but unfortunately went quite mad. In efforts to resolve the cause of it, he unfortunately perished, at which point the proprietor was willing to grant him leave to enter service into the dark archive. Fuzzbungler is a common zombie, though one I've spent a thorough amount of time instilling with conditional orders to execute to make up for their inherent lack of intellect. As for diseases, his flesh has quite dried out and any pests that would squat within his body are kept out by some vermin repellant."
"Marcellus you say? Of course!" Namaeva dusts off her dress as Fuzzbungler chases a piece of paper behind some bookshelves. "And yes, discretion is indeed a quality we should breed into all our members. The service we provide to the greater academic community sometimes goes unappreciated while it is still in progress. Recruits should all be able to look into the long-term for succour." Namaeva inclines her head to her abandoned seat. "But first I insist, Mr.--Marcellus, have a seat. Fuzzbungler shall make us all some tea after he finishes cleaning." At that moment Fuzzbungler stomps forward, a pile of papers in his hands, and a quill and inkpot balanced on his head. "The desk over there, and make sure you don't spill the ink on the papers," says Namaeva. With that Fuzzbungler goes to the desk with a groan, and then retrieves some tea-making supplies from a backpack nearby. "Would you prefer something from Sargava or Jalmeray, Marcellus?"
Namaeva's ears visibly perk as she notices Marcellus and smiles. "Mr. Thrune! It's wonderful to see you." She quickly reaches a hand to her robes and hair to adjust them. "Fuzzbungler, stand up." Immediately, whilst drawing another picture of Yuuno punching another robot Diri is riding, while a strangely recognizable portrayal of Drandle Dreng scratches his head as squiggles come from both recruit's mouths, Fuzzbungler rises, sending papers and stationery all over the chamber. Namaeva rises from her seat. "Oh you detestable sack of desiccated meat! Pick up your mess!" With that the halfling woman looks to Thrune. "Please, take a seat," she says before her eyes widen. No! Wait, I wasn't thinking! Not Fuzzbungler's, mine!" She slides off her seat, swiping away dust and adjusting her robes once more. She curtsies and smiles before presenting the seat to Thrune. Fuzzbungler dashes in front of her, chasing a piece of wayward parchment. By the time he passes, Namaeva's face is visibly beet-red.
Namaeva nods, looking at the notes her assistant Fuzzbungler has taken. They consist of crude stick drawings of some rogue running away from an explosion with many beakers flying about, along with what appears to be a robot scorpion shooting lasers carrying an orange-haired gnome. "That's enough, Fuzzbungler. Copy only my notations from here. Notation: Prospective recruit Ms. L has, after grown tired of her incompetent Taldane contacts failed to provide adequate facilities for her research into alloys, golems and constructs, decided that the Dark Archive, being more inclined to scholarly pursuits, is the best fit for her. Prospective Recruit Yuuno appears specialized in animated but non-living specimen acquisition. Recommend that both recruits be taken on by a venture captain or lieutenant operating out of Numeria. Secondary recommendation is to include potions of comprehend languages for briefings entailing either one or both recruits amongst regular shipments to handler. End notation." Namaeva clears her throat, then looks to the two individuals with her. "While I must first acknowledge a personal bias: that I'm inclined to see fate in what may well just be coincidence, I think it is not mere randomness that has led both of you to the Dark Archive. I have a feeling that each of your talents are complementary of one another. A question before proceeding, how do each of you feel about assignments in Northern Avistan? Particularly land-locked and Worldwound-neighbouring nations from which much of the current market supply of adamantine originates from?"
Namaeva looks at the other new arrival, scanning the holy symbol, and smiles. "How very pleasant to make your acquaintance, Yuuno. Perhaps together we can assist Diri with her paperwork. Afterall, one of the main tenants of the Pathfinder Society is to report one's findings. While others in the society may let such priorities fall by the wayside, we here at the Dark Archive understand that cataloguing such materials must come first for the safety of all."
Sense Motive DC 26:
Namaeva is strained at the arrival of others, and far from pleased.
Perception DC 22:
Shifting in her robes, you catch a holy symbol tattoo on Namaeva partially obscured by the very low-cut collar of her day clothes and some makeup, but the outline of a red, horned face with menacing eyes can be seen. For those that succeed the Perception Check, Knowledge Religion, DC 15 for non-Tians, DC 10 for Tians:
The symbol is of Fumeiyoshi, Lord of Envy, a Tien deity banished after the murder of his brother, and told that as the undead envy the living, he would also envy his betters.
Titles: Lord of Envy
Namaeva coughs, looking to her assistant. "Fuzzbungler, catalogue duties, subset commands eight. Target: Diri Lizzenbottolze." With a slight moan, Fuzzbungler draws out some stationery and begins copying--however poorly--Diri's previous statement. "Now..."Namaeva leans forward towards Diri. "I take it from your... enthusiastic supplication, that you're interested in the Dark Archive? You've come to us after the suggestion of Kreighton that your talents for many of the technological artifacts we've acquired as of late would be most appreciated by us?"
"Now sir," tuts Namaeva as she joins Meridoc in some secluded corner of the Dark Archive. "I don't think it's a matter of--" Namaeva snaps her fingers at her servant. "--Fuzzbungler, Dralneen number seven if you would." With that the servant passes Namaeva a small kettle and two cups, along with a decanter of water. "Thank you. Now as I was saying, I don't think it's a matter of the band, any trumped up Andor--Ahem, "Liberty's Edge" representative can muster a force of mere human bards to accompany the handing out of magical baubles to deliver platitudes." Namaeva begins making some tea. "If we're to get more members dedicated to our cause, we need to focus on finding people who are already interested in the things we do, but simply haven't heard of us. It's all fine if a stunning rendition of The Passion of Absalom gets us a half-orc alchemist who's mutated himself into a living weapon, but we're looking for people who have a keen love of and talent for handling and acquiring dangerous items of historical significance. And besides..." With the tea prepared Namaeva pours out two cups, but hops off her chair and takes her own cup. "... Command Undead is a far more resource efficient if one needs musical accompaniment. Now if you'll excuse me, Mistress Dralneen will be coming back from a salon visit with the Blakros family shortly, and I always find her mood after such visits... compelling. Fuzzbungler, bring the supplies to Mistress Dralneen's office when good sir Meridoc is finished with his Sargavan tea."
Namaeva accepts to bauble from the messenger, quickly examining it to ensure it's not priced, taking the white robes as a sign of devotion to Kalistrade's Prophesies. Pressing the button, Namaeva smirks as he message plays. "Ah, my dear liberator, ingratiating himself to Mistress Dralneen by encouraging us all to scope out potential recruits." Namaeva hands off the item to a rather tall individual with baggy clothes and wide-brimmed hat. They take the stone with a groan.
Perception Success: Namaeva's assistant appears to have a foul odor, though some cheap perfumes occlude the scent, and their hands appear in a severe state of necrosis.
Indeed, some of us have even taken the term of slip as one of endearment.
Namaeva looks over the contract, pondering her options. "Sign the contract, and serve the society until such a time as I attain the rank of seeker... Or not sign it, and continue to join the society of my own pure initiative anyway, for I doubt my talents would find a place anywhere else that has such substantial resources, potentially drawing the ire of present company?" Glancing back up to MeriDoc, Namaeva smiles. "I thank you for my freedom, but if the point is to grow me into freedom, I think this contract is superfluous..." (Throw paper to corner > Burning Hands >Contract is Ash) Namaeva steps to the chamber door, pushing it open. "Perhaps a good show of talent to Zarta would be to find the interloper. But first..." Namaeva turns to the rest. "Would one of you point me in the direction of the nearest necromantically-inclined entity for me to requisition assistance?"
Namaeva looks confusedly at MeriDoc, perceiving the words but her mind shutting down as she tries to make sense of it. As her brain finally processes the words, she shrinks back, only by an inch, but enough to convey the motion a rat might make as the crate it was hiding behind is pulled away suddenly. "I beg your pardon, Master?"
Alminster takes out a document, signs the transfer of property papers, adding in MeriDoc's name where relevant and quickly going aside to get a witness signature before handing over the fill contract and taking the draw of 600 Sphinx. "Thank you, good sir, I wish both you and your newly acquired property the best of luck going into the future. For now I shall take my leave of this establishment. As for the Chelaxian Red, I hope you all have a fine evening." With that the slave broker departs. Namaeva grabs the broken chains off the floor, cradling them in her robes and taking them to what appears to be a spittoon in the corner. "Yes Master." She looks over the contract, and adds clarification that section 5's "revive" shall strictly be taken as to mean the casting of Raise Dead, Resurrection or True Resurrection, and that all other methods of "revivification" including animation into an undead, transformation into a bone or flesh golem fall outside the terms of the contract. She also corrects several of the homonyms and misspelled words of the contract before handing it to MeriDoc for an inspection before they sign.
"... SOLD!" declares Alminster happily, "To the halfling knight MeriDoc for a sum of 6,000 gold pieces! Namaeva's eyes widen a bit in surprise. She once again curtsies towards Lady Henderthane "It's been a pleasure to make your aquaintance." She then turns to MeriDoc. "Congratulations, Master," she says with a deep bow. "I look forward to proving myself of valuable service and supplication to you." Alminster pats his sides as he walks over to the halfling knight. "Now where?--Ah, here's the quill and papers. Shall we go over the contract and make the exchange now? Or would you prefer it be done at the Slave Pits?"
"Being a slave is all I know, good sir MeriDoc, and while circumstances have not been ideal to me I believe in what Lady Henderthane has to say on the matter. This is not to say I do not believe you would be a master of exceptional quality should you win the auction."
Sense Motive Success:
Namaeva is taking cues from Alminster to try and prompt another, even higher bid from one of the other auction-goers, though her statement is as close to honest as they come with regards to Lady Henderthane. Alminster meanwhile lifts his hand again. "Going twice..."
The added commentary of several more individuals has made Alminster pause for a moment to process them. While usually a bit faster at the auctioneer position, the relative value the item in question is pulling is making him grant a little longer for decisions to be made, and to allow the address of questions. To Jasmine Henderthane, Alminster looks, pulling out a written document. "I'm always happy to provide proper documentation to an official of the Order of the Chain." With that he hands the document to her. Separate from the transfer of ownership, a document which MeriDoc looked at earlier, this writ of auction grants the holder the permission to hold an auction of one Namaeva Caxaran (hereafter referred to as "the auctioned item") outside the the Slave Market of Absalom).
Linguistics Check Results:
The document shows no signs of forgery, particularly the signature and seal of approval of Absalom's slave market regulators. The wording of the contract itself besides its signatories is off, allowing the auction to be held in any public space or wherever Alminster could procure permission, a loose wording to be sure. It's likely Alminster called in a favor to ensure he could sell the slip to where he believed the most interested buyers would be. "The bid stands at 6,000 gold pieces, do I hear anything higher? Going once..." At this point Namaeva takes a small step towards Jasmine, finding an anchoring point with which to ingratiate herself, grasping the sides of her clothing to curtsy. "Lady Henderthane, everything you say is most admirable and shows a true and in depth understanding of how the world works, a fact I'm certain belies a brilliant mind and kind heart. My owner Alminster indeed lives by the tenets you describe. I am fed and clothed and given all proper amenities of my position. While I cannot speak to other's intentions, Master Alminster did say I may speak as to properly present the value I can provide. For the price, I believe current bidders see a long-term opportunity in their ownership of me as an assistant to them within the Dark Archive. Lastly, I was something of an assistant in academic matters to my previous master, a fact I feel has rubbed off on me. Navigating libraries, and even tombs, albeit ones that had been already cleared of dangers, as well as memorizing some basic facts and notes for recall, were among my duties. I also proved to be moderately capable of operating magical devices safely and reliably. Namaeva raises her gaze to Henderthane, putting on as warm and inviting a smile as she can muster. "I feel my lady would be most happy with this mere and lowly slip were she to give her the great honour of service to her."
"6,000 from the halfling gentleman in armor. Do I hear 7,000 gold? 7,000? 6,000 gold then, going once..." Whilst Alminster rattles off the new point of the auction, Namaeva reaches up to her brow, where sweat has begun to bead and roll down her face. As she withdraws her hand, she notices her hand trembling.
Alminster gives pause at the suddenness of the new arrival, but takes the bid in stride. "5,450 gold pieces, that's 5,450 gold pieces, do I hear 6,000 from anyone? 6,000?" Namaeva for her part visibly flinches at the arrival of Maya, and now seems to be sizing up the half orc, and making sense of the wings growing from her back.
Alminster nods in acknowledgement of the new bid. "Two thousand, the new bid stands at two thousand, do I hear anything higher than two thousand?"
Sense Motive Success: Namaeva appears surprised at the jump in price for her, completely unable to fathom the reasoning that could be behind it, although the muscles in her feet tense, and the corners of her mouth pull down, worried about the expectations that she may need to meet for this MeriDoc- |
