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Gameplay Thread
Despite the worries of the Decemvirate, your voyage across the Inner Sea and up the Sellen River to the Galtan town of Woodsedge sees few dangers, and you reach your destination without ever having to draw your weapons. The whole nation of Galt remains in the thrall of a bloody revolution, and while signs of desperation, poverty, and even violence abound, none of it has prevented you from your mission. The Pale Maiden remains safe, and you have successfully completed your first direct task for the secretive inner circle of the Pathfinder Society. Sooner than you had expected, you find yourselves standing on the outer stair of the Woodsedge Lodge.
Situated on immense grounds just outside the town proper, the luxurious manor house is marred by cracked plaster, missing windows, and rotting shingles, but a well-groomed topiary hints at a building coming back from a near-death encounter with Revolution and abandonment.
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There is a sudden, relatively small, but fairly loud sulfurous explosion right at the base of the steps to the front-door. When the smoke clears, it reveals two beings who were not there a moment ago: A beautiful, albeit frighteningly pale and comparatively tall, gnome in elegant and expensive garb in the Qadiran mage's fashion (though also betraying the presence of what could only be true Elven Chainmail). Across her back are both a fearsome-looking black spear, its complex razor-edged tip reminiscent both of a flame and a serpent's tongue, and an obviously-enchanted crossbow of similar construction, but radically different detail, the sight at the end of its shaft resembling an incandescent dragon's eye.
Though mostly concealed beneath her imposing headdress, her short straight hair is the color of nacre, and her intense purple eyes look about with an odd combination of curiosity, annoyance, and avarice. Over her forehead hovers a strange glowing sigil.
Of course, it is a testament to this gnome's astounding presence that one may even notice her next to what lies underneath her...
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When Lucija and Naghamadi make their sudden appearance, River of Stars, the young Shoanti shaman travelling with the Society for a time, smiles widely.
"Ah Lucija, you're just in time"
He's in his mid-twenties, dressed in traditional Shoanti garb, but with the long black hair reserved for their shamanic members. Dozens of tattoos cover the length of his arms, with fewer, fresher ones inked on his face.
"Eska is impatient to deliver the item, she always has been a worry-wort"
At his comment, the brightly colour fox with with sparkly eyes and fur that has been padding alongside him suddenly floats into the air and flicks her tail in his face, causing him to laugh.
Despite their apparent age, both he and Eska exude a calming aura of wisdom and tranquility, which has made the boat journey sail by.
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A shimmer of arcane energy dances through the air like sunlight on glass. Then, with a gentle pop, a butterfly-winged dragon materialises midair, wings beating with slow, deliberate grace.
proclaims the faerie dragon telepathically, every syllable dripping with pride as though he himself had earned the titles.
Moments later, a tall elven gentleman arrives in a sweep of fine silk and effortless poise. His attire is a masterclass in high fashion—cut in the latest court style, embroidered with subtle patterns of lions, laurels, and arcane sigils. A beautifully crafted longsword rests at his hip, more symbol than weapon (though it looks as though it has seen some use). A Blakros crest brooch fastens his cloak, beneath which rests a more subdued pin etched with an Ulfen rune.
He surveys the company with a warm, practised smile—charming without effort, and brimming with positivity and benevolence. “Well, what a glorious day for a dash of adventure, eh? One does miss it, dreadfully—Senate work is all debates, paperwork, and keeping a straight face while people speak utter nonsense.” He chuckles lightly, brushing an imaginary speck from his sleeve.
“Still, one must serve as well as sparkle. Now then—Galt! Nasty, nasty business. Chaos masquerading as reform, but all that beheading carrying on, as though that was the answer to anything other than more beheadings and further violence of the unchecked masses - you cant behead your way to greatness, doesn't work, or the Orcs of Belkzen would have a great empire now wouldn't they. The Andorans would never accept it anyway"
He pauses, glancing around the room expectantly. “But never mind all that—are there refreshments? Cucumber sandwiches, perhaps? No crusts, naturally. Can’t save the world on an empty stomach.”
“Come now, let’s see what the Pathfinder Society has cooked up for us. I do so enjoy being useful… in style.” he heads towards the entrance.
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Behind others a tall, muscular half-orc wearing a mithral breastplate rides a horn-headed dinosaur. He has huge adamantium axe and longbow strapped to his back. Crude sigil is tattoeed to his forehead.
"One orc of Belkzen and a fellow Pathfinder right here! But not looking forward to beheading anyone anytime soon. Mörök's the name." he declares proudly as hops off the back of his steed.
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Lord Blakros raises an elegant brow as the towering half-orc dismounts, and with a twinkle in his eye, steps forward with outstretched hand and an approving nod.
“Marvellous entrance, my dear fellow! Positively gladiatorial.” He gestures broadly to the dinosaur. “And what a magnificent beast! You must tell me where you got him—one hears such dreadful things about the stables in Absalom these days.”
“An orc of Belkzen and a Pathfinder? Your presence does the Society credit, Mörök.Besides, if things do go terribly wrong, I’d feel much better knowing you were between me and whatever horror emerges from the darkness. My tailor would be furious if I died in this outfit.”
"Who else do we have here?"
Lord Blakros casts a quick glance between the Shoanti warrior and the orc of Belkzen, his smile effortlessly disarming. “Ah, a Shoanti and a Belkzen orc in the same party—how boldly historic of us. Now, I quite understand there’s old blood and older grudges between your peoples, but I expect Pathfinder loyalties supercede any tribal unpleasantness? If we're to survive this, I’ll need both of you focused on enemies outside the campfire.” He straightens his cuffs. “Besides, it would be dreadfully inconvenient to get blood on these robes.”
"And a gnome with a spectacular serpent clearly not from around here, you aren't from Wispill? Hmm, no further afield. Not trouble, just trying to place the accent"
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River bows to Mörök, and (with a slightly shallower bow) to Lord Blakros.
"Fear not good Lord. I bear no ill will to any just because of their ancestry"
He offers to shake Mörök's mighty hand while Eska runs through Mörök's legs and rubs against his feet.
"I have been travelling with the Society for several years now, trying to learn the five truths that Winter Eagle sent me forth to learn before returning to the Quah. I have learned much, but the most powerful lesson has been the value of cooperation."
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As the others exchange pleasantries, they hear a soft humming coming from behind them. Upon looking for the source of the tune, they see an elvish woman of indeterminate age sitting cross legged, holding knitting needles that were working wt an impressive speed. The woman didn’t have much in the way of weaponry or armor. The most unique thing about her was the tiny monkey that was darting in and out of the sleeves of her draped robes.
She continued to hum her ditty until the others noticed her. ”Well hello there, children. I’m Tessara but you can call me Tess. My little friend is Zeriah. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”. She stood to greet the others, and the sound of her bones popping and cracking was evident. ”These old bones are weary. Still good enough for a few more missions,” she says with a grin.
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Percy, clearly pleased by the constructive conversation between the children of the Shoanti and Belkzen, looks genuinely heartened. “How marvellous to be part of such a forward-thinking team, bridging divides and sharing stories” he muses aloud with a satisfied nod. When Tessara appears, he turns with an amused glint in his eye and offers a courteous bow. “A pleasure indeed, Miss Tess. Anyone who can knit at that speed clearly has the reflexes of an assassin. And the monkey, I presume, handles reconnaissance?” He eyes Zeriah with playful suspicion.
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Boffins hovers in a slow, deliberate circle above Tessara, his rainbow wings catching the light as shimmering trails of hallucinogenic mist curl lazily behind him. He narrows his eyes at Zeriah with the amused scrutiny of one familiar sizing up another—then offers a slow, knowing smile that suggests secrets only familiars share.
Percy, watching the exchange, arches an eyebrow and turns to Tessara with a smirk. "Are we starting a coven, Miss Tess? Because if so, I really must update my wardrobe."
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Mörök bows to Lord Sinclair, Lucija, River of Stars and Tessara. "If I recall correctly the beast was delivered from Mwangi jungles, but its large size, while formidable in battle, is rather inconvenient indoors and cramped underground caves. I'm not familiar with this country, but I would imagine Senator of Empire of Taldor in chaotic Galt is going to have at least some form of diplomatic status." Mörök ponders "And with a witch coven we'd have unimaginable power." he says gleefully
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Percy chuckles, returning Tessara’s grin with one of his own “I’ve been in covens, choirs, and conspiracies, though none quite so suspect as the Taldane Senate. And let’s not even begin on the Blakros family weddings—if you thought our museum was cursed, try attending our family functions. You'll need a knife and I don't refer to the cutlery”
He pulls a small, crested card from his sleeve and checks the names, “I believe we’re waiting on one more - Shau Lynne. Mysterious name, no title which I find deeply intriguing. Shall we give them a moment, or flip a coin and press on dramatically?”
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The huge doors of the Woodsedge Lodge open with a slow creak. A tall, bulky figure takes form in the gloom within, emerging into the sunlight with a gap-toothed smile and a bushy blond beard. It’s your old venture-captain from Absalom, Adril Hestram!
The huge man chuckles with a belly laugh at the sight of you. I was wondering who they would send! The Ten choose wisely, of course! You did receive your orders to come here from the Decemvirate themselves, didn’t you? The servants are clucking that you bear the Pale Maiden. Is it true? May I wield the blade?
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Percy and Boffins pause briefly, taking stock of the room with a practiced sweep. As Adril steps forth, Percy’s face brightens with a warm smile “Adril! A pleasure as always though I must say, it was less an order and more of a very strongly worded suggestion. You know how the Ten are.” he gives a slight feigned chuckle “As for the servants, well, bless them. They do have such vivid imaginations, don’t they? You could have a season at the local tavern stage with the tales they spin. But as for the Pale Maiden any such business is a matter for Venture-Captain Eliza Petulengro, I’m afraid. Bureaucracy gone mad, naturally, but there we have it.” He offers a courteously but with a genuinely regretful note “So I must politely decline the request. Dreadfully unromantic, I know.”
“Now, there will be swords waved about shortly, I’m certain, but we are fresh from the road. Might I suggest refreshments and lodgings as the first order of business? Perhaps even, dare I dream, sandwiches? Crusts off, of course, and tea? I like the one from Wispill, black tea with a hint of bergamot” He smiles with gentlemanly grace, though the expectation in his tone is unmistakably pointed.
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River bows to Adril and smiles broadly, but doesn't say anything for the nonce. He's happy to let Eska flit around the room sniffing the new smells while he takes in the surroundings.
If the discussion between Adril and his fellow Pathfinder needs his input, he'll be ready.
While he's not talking, casual observers might find it odd that he doesn't seem to breathe.
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"And a gnome with a spectacular serpent clearly not from around here, you aren't from Wispill? Hmm, no further afield. Not trouble, just trying to place the accent"
"Wispil? Bah; though my rightful realm is Beyond, my home upon the Material has always been Katheer! No City of Brass is it, but a far more adequate sight than some bucolic lumber-town."
“Might I suggest refreshments and lodgings as the first order of business? Perhaps even, dare I dream, sandwiches? Crusts off, of course, and tea? I like the one from Wispill, black tea with a hint of bergamot” He smiles with gentlemanly grace, though the expectation in his tone is unmistakably pointed.
"Yes! REFRESHMENTS!" She barks to Captain Hestram in a voice that is disarmingly loud and deep for a Gnome. "I have just been to Hell and back! You could scarcely fathom the going-rate for a simple tin of caviar or chocolate Down There...."
She returns to what has apparently been keeping her busy while the rest of you exchange trivialties: A fresh painting. At a very cursory glance, it appears to be no more than a very odd and not-terribly-flattering caricature of the rest of your assembly.
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The serpentine-entity beneath her continues to float languidly in place, but suddenly stirs and raises his(?) head in the direction of Captain Hestram.
"As besst I ssee," It begins in an alarmingly cultured tone, "We come bearing at leasst 3 'pale maidenss', although admittedly I am unssu-"
The creature is abruptly interrupted by...his own tongue, which darts out of his mouth and tugs sideways, in the direction of River of Stars - wait, no, that's not a tongue, that's an entire second, smaller head!
"EEEEE-YEEEE-YEEEEEEE!!!" It shrills. "HYDRANGEA TORNADO! I SPEE MY WITH LEETLE 'I' SOMEZHING ZHAT PLAY ZHE HOOKY WITH fLAWS OF LIFE-EE LIKE MIKEY LIKEY! IS IT D-D-D-DEAD, OR MERELY DREAMING-G-G-G?! WHITHER ITS MIGHTY HUFFS AND ATMAN!? WHY THAT'S SO VACUU-"
Before it can say any further, the larger head sucks it back inside like a thick noodle.
"I'm sorry, where was I?" Resumes the larger head.
Before he can resume, the smaller head pops back out.
"YOU-I WAS-WERE IN SPUMONI-WORLD, 2,468,642ND LAYER OF THE ABYSS!!! AND A MOST SPUMONIOUS PICO-EON IT W-"
"...Technically, true, yes, but not what I meant."
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As the gnome and the serpent complete their impassioned case for snacks and sustenance, Percy gestures toward the small painting “Famished, my companion is and verging on delirium, judging by the brushwork. A tragic study in neglect.” He casts a knowing glance toward Adril, his tone playfully dramatic “Surely the good Venture-Captain has our mid-afternoon aperitifs prepared? Before this slip of a gnome slips off her mortal coil entirely due to starvation and a tragic lack of finger sandwiches.”
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They won’t say why we’ve all been called here, Adril says, but it’s obvious the Pale Maiden is just a cover story. I’ve been… studying up on the Ten. I think I’m about to be promoted into their ranks. It was only a matter of time. My guess is that you’re here to represent my efforts as a venture-captain. I’ve no doubt you’ll make a very convincing argument for my promotion.
Things will change between us if this happens. You’ve always been honest, dependable agents for me, so I’m telling you while I still can. After it happens, we will all be sworn to utter secrecy, for the identities of the Ten are the most treasured secrets of the Pathfinder Society. For now, though, I want you to know that I trust you implicitly, and I hope that you trust me. Once I have been made one of the Ten, even
if we can no longer discuss it openly, I want you to know that I will always do what is right by you.
With that, Adril Hestram suggests that they all adjourn inside to meet the Lady of the Lodge.
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"YYYYYYEEEEEEEEEE!!! I SPY A SPIRE MITT PIRACY, WE -ALL- WEAR A MASSSK, METAPHORICALLY SSSPEAKINGGGG - BUT WHOM ART WE? LOUIE-LOUIE? A SPIRE? ASPIRE? UMPIRE EMPIRE?! FORBIDDEN, BIDDEN HIDDEN, BUT DIDN' I READ YOU LIKE A BOOK? THERE. ARE. FOUR SHADO-"
That inscrutable outburst out of the way, Naghamadi conveys Lucija (still maniacally painting) soundlessly inside.
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"Nice painting, perhaps we can compare notes later - I'm somewhat of an artist myself...though my studies of the Gates Ajar has left me with quite a vivid imagination" Percy reflects politely, but with a peculiar gleam in his eyes.
***
Percy maintains his polished smile though inwardly puzzled. If this were merely a selection or promotion process, surely it could have been done in Absalom, far safer, and far more comfortable. He could have retired each evening to his mansion in the Petals District, instead of being hauled out here to the wilds. Wispil was also acceptable; Oppara was tolerable. But this? Not even on the list of acceptable places.
“Promotions, you say?” Percy arches a brow “Well, lovely to think my voice might carry some weight in such matters, though I can’t imagine why the Decemvirate would seek the counsel of this particular politician. I’m hardly an impartial party, my allegiance to the Empire of Taldor is hardly a secret, and my... shall we say, less publicised associations... might lead some to assume I represent external interests, even where none are intended.” He pauses with a small, diplomatic shrug. “Still, if they are asking, I shall, of course, offer my thoughts with all the clarity, balance, and grace expected of a Blakros. Which is to say, entirely unbiased and just subtly terrifying.”
He stresses a few words with politeness, but with an undeniable tone of 'are these people kidding?'
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Are there tasty snacks? We shall see.
Adril Hestram leads you inside the Woodsedge Lodge. The filigreed front doors open into a spacious great room with an enormous fireplace against the opposite wall. Elegant upholstered chairs and couches scattered about the chamber present an inviting, luxurious atmosphere, as if the whole place had been designed for fashionable lounging. A sweeping stair beside the fireplace leads to the balconies of the mansion’s second floor, which look down upon the room as if it were a stage. A scuffed and oddly stained red carpet runs down the center of the stair, showing that work yet remains to restore the Woodsedge Lodge to its former glory. Some elements, like the threadbare stuffed owlbear in one corner, hint more at the past than the future, but things are coming along.
Adril leads on to the west, through a fine wooden door and into a woodpaneled corridor rich with the smell of fresh onions and simmering meat stew. The passage continues several feet to the north, with doors leading to chambers beyond. Adril bounds through the southernmost doors across the hall, leading you into a richly appointed meeting room where two figures are seated at a huge oak table near several empty chairs obviously intended for you. Adril points to a male human garbed in crude leathers wearing a necklace of bird skulls.
This here is Osprey, he says. Honorable fellow, a friend to all and a Society man, tall and true. His keen eyes see much among the Pathfinders that others miss, and his counsel is unparalleled in our order.
Adril turns to the gorgeous red-haired woman sitting at the head of the table, her pale face a marble bust of confidence and control.
And this, he says, his cheeks taking on a touch of red and his mouth curving into a lecherous grin, is Venture-Captain Eliza Petulengro, the Lady of the Lodge.
Eliza Petulengro greets you warmly, welcoming them to her home in Woodsedge and sharing her pleasure that the Decemvirate would take otice of her efforts to restore the Lodge to its former glory. She
is eager to learn the identities of her guests. She knows Adril well from their shared time in Absalom, where both worked in the Grand Lodge dispatching teams of Pathfinder field agents on special missions for the Society.
If you have met Eliza before, and if so they probably remember her as a no nonsense, highly motivated and capable venture-captain eager to ascend rapidly within the Society. Petulengro remembers everything about her previous encounters with you, calling those she knows by name to make them feel welcome in her home.
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Initially buoyed by the smell of stew drifting through the lodge, Percy appeared quietly optimistic, perhaps there would be hors d’oeuvres or canapés, or at the very least a high tea with proper finger sandwiches - cucumber, no crusts, or even (gods willing) a delectable filling of coronation chicken. Sadly, such delicacies appear conspicuous by their absence, and the huge oak table offers no succor from imminent death by deprivation. A slight sigh, nearly imperceptible, escapes him as he adjusts the cuffs of his travel coat with resigned elegance.
Offering a dignified nod of greeting to Osprey, Percy turns his attention to the Lady of the Lodge “Venture-Captain Petulengro, our instructions were clear - deliver the Pale Maiden to this lodge, and in particular, to you. We’ve ensured its arrival safely, exactly as directed. Now, if you would be so kind, we would like to complete its transfer into your care.”
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At first put off by Adril's presumption about his promotion, River's opinion was cemented at his lascivious introduction of Eliza.
He stands and bows to Eliza and Osprey.
"It is an honour to meet you both. Though I have not travelled to Galt before, your reputation for skill and diligence precedes Venture Captain Petulengro. I hope the Pale Maiden brings good fortune to your Lodge"
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Mörök glances at the halfing "What? Did I hear correctly what you said of aberrant bloodline? That sounds something I have my own personal experience. Maybe we will talk more on that later." he muses "Refreshments, yes please! Trip here has been arduously long and I'm, of course, hungry enough to devour a horse!" he chuckles, but becomes quiet as he admires gnome's artwork. "Wow, that's some amazing skill."
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The half-orc bows graciously to Eliza and Osprey "Honored to meet you. The Pale Maiden has officially arrived, which is reason of us being here."
test
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Tess remains quiet other than an occasional nod and grin while the mission played out. She wasn’t schooled in political theatre, but she was sure something else was going on here after the talk about promotions and other things in the society. She softly stroked her companion while she waited for the next shoe to drop.
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As Shau throws the question on the table the polished diplomat says nothing, a slight arch of Percy’s brow and the faintest curl at the corner of his mouth suggest intrigue. He watches his fellow Pathfinder’s bold, almost brazen delivery with quiet amusement, not disapproval, but genuine interest. It’s not his style, of course, Percy prefers precision and layered tact, but there’s something undeniably refreshing about throwing questions into the open like a gauntlet. Reckless, perhaps, but occasionally effective.
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Lucija finally looks up from her painting.
"I haven't even gotten to see the damned thing!" She huffs. "Where is this vaunted sword?"
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You deliver the Pale Maiden.
You have my most sincere thanks for safely delivering the Pale Maiden to me, Eliza says with a proud smile. One of my servants will bring it to the lodge’s armory, where it will be kept safe to honor the responsibility granted to me by the Decemvirate.
As she speaks, several human servants wearing elaborate dresses and fashionable suits bustle in and out of the kitchen through the north doors, delivering delicate flutes of bubbling wine, plates of fresh fruits, and platters of manicured fingerfoods. Each of the servants wears a featureless white porcelain mask, obscuring his or her face completely. Each servant also wears a thin red ribbon around the neck. Eliza catches one of you looking at the ribbon, and her face takes on a serious cast.
The ribbons represent the guillotine. The Final Blades that sing the song of Revolution and cut the heads from patriots. Each of my servants has lost a beloved one to the Mob. They wear the masks for their own protection. They are safe here in the Lodge. I know their identities, but it is critical that the rabble and the Mob do not identify them as servants of the Society. We are still not fully trusted here, after all, and although the people will not strike out against me, they may very well snatch one of my servants on their return home from a day’s work. I’m sure you understand.
My homeland of Galt has lost much in this endless Revolution, and even the streets are dangerous. You are lucky to have arrived here safely, but I am sure you could have handled yourselves had you run into trouble.
Of course, Eliza says, I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that delivering the Pale Maiden was merely a pretext to get you to the Woodsedge Lodge. You are here for something far more important than a courier mission. For tonight, the Lodge will be host to a Talespinning, one of the most important ceremonies known to the Pathfinder Society. And the guest of honor is Adril Hestram!
Eliza explains that Osprey will reveal the details of the ceremony when they all reconvene in the Great Room in about an hour.
the ceremony.
After announcing the ceremony, Eliza asks her servants to show you to your rooms (in area L13), where you are welcome to spend the night before returning to Absalom tomorrow. Masked servants lead you back
through the Great Room, up the central stair, and to the bank of rooms along the west balcony. You are shown to three well-appointed rooms, each with a large bed and austere wallpaper featuring a flower motif. In the likely event that there are more than three members of the party, some are clearly expected to “double up.” As you settle into your rooms, you spy Adril Hestram returning to his own (significantly nicer and more roomy) chamber (area L15).
After you are settled, you are more or less free to explore the Woodsedge Lodge interior. Eliza and Osprey retreat to Eliza’s chambers (area L14) to prepare for the ceremony, while the staff (at least a dozen richly garbed, masked men and women) bustle about their business, dusting statues, preparing food, shining brass, or engaging in numerous other menial tasks aimed at enhancing an atmosphere of decadent luxury.
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Percy
Boffins
Percy notes the exchanged glances but makes no show of it, instead gliding toward the finer finger foods, which he places modestly and neatly onto a plate alongside a perfectly poured cup of tea “Boffins is terribly fond of apple-based treats, would there happen to be apple pie?” he inquires casually of one of the helpers, his tone light and expectant.
“Yes, I’m all too familiar with the goings-on in Galt,” he adds conversationally, “I recently had the misfortune of dealing with Major Indiscretion—the Andoran himself—and a near encounter with a Final Blade. Nasty business. Rather a lot of deaths. Very untidy.”
Those with sharp eyes may notice that while Percy collects his plate with the poise of a seasoned diplomat, he never actually eats. A sandwich is placed down while adjusting a cuff, a biscuit quietly abandoned while picking up a napkin, each item discreetly offloaded under the guise of perfect social grace.
“We shall drop our baggage in our lodgings and have a bit of an explore!” he announces brightly. “Come now, did you see that stuffed creature? Fascinating—clearly demands closer inspection!”
***---***---***
After a brief, silent exchange with Percy—no more than a glance and the faintest twitch of a wing—Boffins suddenly floods everyone’s thoughts with a lazy yet unmistakably pointed telepathic message:
“Something’s odd. Eliza and Osprey just shared a little look—furtive, knowing. The kind you only see when people are hiding something. Lord Percy guesses they know more about this ceremony than they’re letting on.”
The faerie dragon hovers a little higher, wings beating slowly, eyes half-lidded but watchful.
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"Danger is familiar feeling to us all, I'm sure of that."
Receiving a message Mörök quietly glances at Boffins and ponders its significance. This may not be unusual in itself, people hide their private thoughts all the time and usually there's nothing wrong with that. Lord Percy will certainly inform us more if our hosts act really weird.
Shau is surprised hearing a little voice in her head that isn't her own. "Hello little voice who is this? Thanks for the warning, I was too busy looking around to notice the social graces and nuanced conversation"
Shau is also pondering who to pick for a roomie. Big guy with animal? nooo animal farts all night long. One with crazy snake? No, I would probably have to kill it to get some sleep. That noble seems like a nice fellow, perhaps he would be interested in someone who doesn't take up much room and charming to boot.
Shau hunts down Lord Percy to request to be roomies. Also, in her travels if she can track down her contact that would also be a bonus.
Shau, going stir crazy waiting in the room for what seems like days, decides to take Peep out on tour of every room she can find, finishing off with a snack in the kitchen. Coming back to her room with a tray of food, perhaps a full belly and the satisfaction of a good scouting job will help her sleep.
(if any stealth/perception needed +20 and +22)
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Mörök drops his belongings to an empty room. Should I ask that gnome painter to share room? Her otherworldly snake creature is most interesting thing I have seen in a while.
"Lucija, you can come to my room if you like. I'm just being curious whether your serpent companion sleeps during night like normal."
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So Shau does some poking around.
L1 - Outer Stair.
The large symbol etched into the stone of the Outer Stair is the personal insignia of the Woodsedge Lodge. It appears throughout the manor, in the tilework of the Great Room, on the table in the Conference Room, and even worked into the wallpaper of several chambers and the embroidery of the Guest Room bedspreads.
Several planters situated upon the outer stair bear the prickly stems and sanguine petals of beautiful blood red roses.
Open Road, on the manor’s rear lawn.
Eliza keeps all windows shuttered from the inside, to protect the activities of the Woodsedge Lodge from the prying eyes of the Mob.
L2 - Great Room.
This massive stone-floored room serves as a foyer, gathering chamber, common room, and trophy hall for the Woodsedge Lodge. An enormous chandelier dangles above the room from the ceiling 20 feet above. The east, north, and west Upper Halls look down upon the Great Room from open balconies. The huge staircase ascends to the Upper Halls
L3 - Lower Halls.
The Lower Halls connect the Great Room to the Conference Room, the Kitchen, the Battleground, the Courtyard, the Armory, and the Library via unlocked doors. Beautifully fluted lanterns enchanted with continual flame hang at intervals upon the water-damaged walls, casting the Lower Halls in a rich, flickering light that nearly masks the sooty stains in the carpet. Masked servants bustle from room to room.
L4 - Conference Room
Eight high-backed wooden chairs ring the immense table here, which bears the insignia of the Woodsedge Lodge. Maps spread out upon the table show detailed looks at Galt and (surprisingly) the far-flung jungle colony Sargava. Unlocked doors lead to the Kitchen and the Lower Halls.
L5 - Kitchen
Delicious scents emerge from this well-stocked kitchen at all hours of the day and night. It is a haven for Eliza’s servants, who spend a great deal of time here.
L6 - Pantry
This huge pantry contains ingredients considered indulgent even in cosmopolitan Absalom. Eliza Petulengro is clearly a woman with extremely refined (and expensive) tastes.
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L7 - Battleground
These days, this quiet weapons training facility sees little use.
L8 - Courtyard
If some of the interior rooms have a way to go before they have been fully restored to the lodge’s original splendor, the Courtyard looks as though it has received by far the majority of Eliza’s restoration efforts to date. Meticulously manicured, the topiary bushes closely resemble mythological beasts, while a placid reflecting pool gives a pensive, almost meditative quality to the walled garden. Unlocked doors lead to the Battleground, the Lower Halls, and the Armory.
L9 - Armoury
Eliza’s servants delivered the Pale Maiden to the lodge’s Armory, where it joins several other noteworthy magic items.
L10 - Library
Eliza is only beginning to restore the collection to its former glory. She’s amassed plenty of historical documents and maps
L11 - (inaccessable))