Vint Penal's page

As tactful as it is helpful. Thanks for the stopgap, and the explanation.

Now, do I just keep current, or switch to something else? Either way, I'll sleep on it.

"But which? I've heard of many gods about,
And if you both say 'Razmir' then I'm out."

"...I'm, I'm not a musician. I can barely whistle."

"Nice to meetcha. Vintage Penal, P.F.S. Absalom.

"Sorry about that. Just practicing. To sum up, I get called on to to improve the Society's reputation, to make sure none of you die, or whenever the Decemvirate wants to hurt me some more. I'm used to it. Well, almost."

Bigdaddyjug wrote:

Vint Penal wrote:

"Tell you what: if you don't ask me why I detect as Chaotic Evil, I won't ask you why you've been to Hell."

"Agreed. In other news, I hate the Decemvirate."

"Me too."

This needs some explanation, methinks.

I'm not sure what Vint had in mind exactly, but it is possible for a PFS PC to have an evil aura. A neutral cleric to an evil god will detect as evil.

First of all, I was the one who'd found myself in Hell (My feet were touching solid tyranny!), and second, I won't spread rumors or jump to any conclusions, but I will say that the way he didn't mind touching ancient gooey magically lazy things that had suspicious deals written all over them might have had something to do with it.

"Tell you what: if you don't ask me why I detect as Chaotic Evil, I won't ask you why you've been to Hell."

"Agreed. In other news, I hate the Decemvirate."

"Me too."

"You read the notice, too?" A short man with dyed-brown hair and vaguely elven-looking features looks up from his jumble of papers spread out on the table in front of him; his tattered hat and cloak hang nearby.

"It's sad to say, especially one Pathfinder to another, but it looks like you're too late. Still, if you want a quiet place to practice dancing, here's fine.

"The only dance I've ever done was called the Flat Run," he adds after a gulp from his coffee, "though I've seen the odd Hemp Fandango. The only reason I don't find your ancient dance traditional is because I never seemed to know any Dawnflowers. Desnans, more usually. Now, it's the other way arond. If you've got any good stories about lightning that knocked you off your feet, I'm all ears."

Ms. Zadrian,

It warms my dampened heart to hear that the demonic invaders have been righteously crammed back into their rightful homelands. May Golarion's biggest eyesore close within our lifetime.

In truth, I'd much rather deal with the hundreds of smaller crimes and the redemption of those who thought themselves beyond such than having to placate a spoiled Sovereign and his constructs. At least the undead can be laid low with the proper holiness. With constructs, I'd rather just dig a hole and lure one into it.

Until I next find myself sent back into field work, I will content myself with instructing rookies and repairing the Society's reputation; it may not be the only thing worth redeeming, but it still needs it. From the view of a man who's been betrayed by da blo almost everyone in his life, perhaps, in a faction full of idealists run by a paladin of redemption and sunshine, I'll have better luck.

Hesitantly Yours,

Vint Penal of the Shad Silver Crusade

An elf comes into the room, a cake balanced on one hand as he strokes his beard with the other. He surveys the room, sees the Osirion sign, and puts the cake down near it.

"Eh? What's that? Oh, it is cherry cake with raspberry icing, the scarab is make of chocolate, the sun is a blob of lemon icing." He looks to the others. "Oh!! You want to know what faction to join. I suggest the Osirion faction. Knowledge never hurts, you know. Have you heard of the reward of Groetus?"

** spoiler omitted **

...I'd say I've heard about the reward of Groetus. I heard it was the same as the wrath of Groetus, only delayed until after you'd helped it with its wrath. What does that have to do with Osirion?

I want to swear; to be polite, I won't.
I joined with Torch since I believed in him, to show the world we aren't like Aspis goons. The Shadow Lodge has people full of vim, breaking down this cult of sin and runes.But where to go when Torch is with the Ten? I like the dark; crusading's not my style. I won't be seen among the Szcarni's men, and Ambrus Valsin won't respect my guile. The Paracountess grates across my nerves, and I'm unsure about democracy; while Taldor's time is far behind the curve, Quadiran wealth is not my cup of tea.

...Sorry. I tend to lapse into verse sometimes. It's how I cope. I guess if Torch isn't replacing a retiring member of the Ten, then I could always become one of those amateur Osirionologists. Caladrel, Face, thank you for your suggestions. Though you must neither have practiced any public speaking, you were persuasive enough for me.

To our cunning leader,

I've been doing some research on the Consortium's movements in Magnimar, as well as the Lissalan cult, and I believe the reason they've been so precise in their attempts to stymie us is thanks to some inside information. My suspicions were confirmed the other day, when I'd secured that letter. Note the familiar signature? A successor, an imitator, or some sort of terrible undead traitor?

As for the Lissalans,I don't worry as much. They lack our organized focus, and many of their younger members have been joining out of youthful rebellion. If they really do practice this sin as much as they say - especially Sloth - then we should have plenty of time to plan how to stop them. I'll work with Sheila to get the Lord-Mayor to grant the Society legal support; I plan to make as many arrests as I can, though some of my fellow agents refuse to understand that "under arrest" isn't the same as "helpless target".

A mad cult, preparing to awaken a dormant evil after a millennium or so? I've read this story before, and I remember how it ends.

Always vigilant,

Vint Penal, P.F.S. Magnimar

Misguided, huh? Give that man some more credit. Why do you think he's so focused on the Society's politics before all the other kinds? The way I heard it, he was a good Pathfinder, before all those... issues happened to him. Even though Torch makes sure to tell his contacts everything he's sure they need, ask him questions next time he sees you. It'll show him you don't want to be left clueless.

Something you should learn - Mr. Deun, right? - is that everyone likes to be different from other people, so long as "different" means "better" and not "worse". I'm happy to let other types keep their really obvious secrets. When they find out mine - not letting anyone die if I can help it - they'll think that's all there is to me, and let me keep my other ones.

Oh, and that's kind of you, but I don't drink. I'd just rather talk and listen.

All around me for weeks, I've been seeing those fresh-faced rookies gush about how much they love it here in Magnamar. Sure, it's fun to hob-nob with its rich folk, without having to worry about some demon dame looking to pull your soul out through your urethra. When they sent me all the way to Osirion, I got promised I'd never have to come back to this ruined cesspit, and then they pull something like this. Nobody knows and hates the place like I do - I grew up there, so I should know - so what could I do but take the job?
Officially, I've been writing speeches on behalf of the Society, and helping watch over the Lodge, but twice now I've been sent out to keep those rookies from dying. I know this trash heap of a birthplace like the other sides of my shoulders, let's say, and if I find any lawbreaking Aspis goons or crooks calling themselves Pathfinders, I'll bring 'em in and have 'em locked up tighter than the Rough Beast.
Also, since I know you're gonna end up reading this, Torch, watch your mailbox. By the time you get that letter full of stuff I won't say in public, Sheila'll have already sent me out to do more of your leftover dirty laundry.

"Hey you, you've got a Wayfinder! We need a guy who can smooth-talk and haggle!"

"Wha? I just like to hit things and drink other things!"

"Close enough, let's go!"

If I get to hit someone then I'd call it a mission success. Even that one time the Aspis locked me up...

A heavy weapon can get things done just as well as you sing-song types. I didn't hear anyone complaining when I dropped that traitor from the watchtower in the God's Market. Well, alright, the watch complained but I got the job done.

"Sing-song"? Look, pal, I give public speeches, I keep people alert, and I disarm enemy weapons. I can even do haiku, too.

Yeah, when the only four guys who can show up don't know how to do something important, it'd help if they spend the first bit figuring out how to cover for themselves. If there are other agents around but the berserker really wants in and, say, shoves the priestess or the witch aside, then I'm gonna either have to use up everyone's curesticks or (if nobody has any) just tell 'em not to just yank out all the arrows that're gonna hit 'em.

Oh, as for that haiku, here's one on the house:
We get the mission/
I fiddle with my glasses/
I make a quip... YEAAHH!!!

Say, how many times have you been called up by a venture-captain and got told something like, "Today I need you to check out something strange in Rahadoum, so I sent for the born-again Sarenite and the devil-worshipping Chelishman," or "I've gathered together you four, with your outdoorsiness and knowledge of poison to go to Geb and bring back this book on embalming"?

Yeah, just last week, after getting sent to the one place I hate the most - undergound - to fight people and not place 'em under arrest, I get shipped out to the one place to which I asked never to return: Magnamar. It's still a dump, and they sent me to the dumpiest area in it to find out who'd been killing people. Oh, I found the perp, all right, who got away thanks to my entire team deciding as a group to start thinking with the wrong head. It was all I could do to get 'em aiming in the right direction with their actual weapons.

Oh, and this week, when I got back? Yeah, turned out that the the only four they could send to investigate some thefts and muggings - Torch said don't mention religion, and don't use lethal force - were a big angry guy who looked like an ex-guard of Torch's, a grouchy Dwarf who kept comparing axes with the hybrid guy, a purported Tien princess on the run who didn't even speak Tien, and that sword-swinging Sarenite broad. Two men, one dog, an entire warehouse, and a damaged gazebo later, and they all got beat up by the perp who was on top of the gazebo I guess? When they came around, they all started complaining about how they didn't know what to do, since they didn't get sent along with a smart guy who could, say, use a sleeping spell or make a cloud or something.

How do those guys, with their magic blame-deflecting helmets, decide who takes what mission? Blindfolded darts or rolling dice? Or do they just look for the first four they could find to do the first thing that needs doing?

Hang on, then. A couple weeks from now, I'll be heading in to give your teams a lot of help and a little common sense. I've got Careful Teamwork, plenty of different arrows, a handy haversack with anything we might need in it (including some masterwork manacles if I can get the violent dretch-bags to stop using excessive force) and just in case, a swordbreaker dagger.

I'll get to the bottom or whatever mission you hand me, unless you tell me to get to the actual bottom of something. Send me swimming again, instead; I just learned how to do that.