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"I need to talk to someone from the Dark Archive because I went to finalize my reports to that waif of an elf Kreighton Shaine last mission and he thought it was very interesting that Ashkerhall was full of murals that reminded him of Jormundun and that the golden guardian wasn't made of bronze like I expected and that Venture Captain Sharrowsmiths journals belonged to the Dark Archive now and that I couldn't just read them and study them like I want even though there's probably information that I could use to help piece together my latest discovery where gnomish techniques just don't measure up to Dwarven craftsmanship when melting adamantine like when you need something super durable to keep the explosions from buckling it like a bridge over the islands in the Shackles where heavy tides and drunken revelers with their staggered footsteps break down foundations and cause tensional failures that can completely and entirely wreck years of progress like when my lab assistant accidentally mixed the molten bronze with tepid water even though I told him that it should have been lukewarm and the town guards thought that maybe Alkenstar wasn't the best place to be trying to cast a quicksilver shield even though it was awesome and the calculations suggest it is completely possible so I told him that I'd find some other place with a better respect for learning and innovation and that when everyone in the Inner Sea is holding a shield made of purest quicksilver mixed with bronze like a sunset on stainless steel reflecting light onto the darkest of hillside thickets where wolves prowl and howl and bowl over unsuspecting travelers with their fancy backpacks and belt pouches full of shiny clinky gold that he'd be sorry and so was Kreighton Shaine who said that I needed to get into the Dark Archive because all of the books and the notes and the formula sheets and the experimentation notes and the transreliquats and experimental quicksilver apparatuses and Sharowsmith's journal was being stored in the basement where the general public's inquisitive little hands couldn't get to them even though my little hands are three times as good at disassembling things as any elf and approximately 1.6 times as good at putting them back together because sometimes the molten bronze and the igneous basalt and the tiny pieces of clockworks don't always line up with the screwdrivers closest at hand but the burns usually go away after a little magical healing which usually makes everyone else happy anyway so I have to ask someone associated with this Dark Archive for some sort of sponsorship just to get a look at a book or two even though Tahonikepsu would probably be mad and a mad dragon is more volatile than thrice-condensed molten erudite mixed with lava then shaken like a martini they serve in Opparra's dingiest uppercrust bar even though they call it a nightclub like they think its only open at night and you need a membership to join as if it was a Dark Archive and they did important things like disassembling clockworks instead of serving alcohol with funny little parasols like the ones the caravan from Minkai brought back with their latest shipment of fireworks that blast across the sky trailing stars like "FWOOOOOOOSH" and exploding so amazingly that you forget why you even started talking so can I join?"
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Looking over the halfling's shoulder, a short Tian-Shu woman wearing a monk's outfit and an icon of a shuriken dripping blood around her neck speaks up. "Yuuno might be able to help. Ah but, you no know Yuuno yet...Hello, Yuuno is punisher of lawbreakers. Is waiting for brother. Brother is Huu-Yuu, is Seeker on secret mission for De-Cim-Ver-It. Lady Zarta say I can work for her until brother get back. You need Yuuno to help with something?"
The icon around her neck is the holy symbol of Yaezhing, Tian god of Harsh Justice, Punishment, and Murder.
Domains - Artifice, Death, Evil, Law, Trickery
Subdomains - Construct, Deception, Devil, Murder, Toil, Undead
Favored Weapon - Shuriken
Sacred Animal - tiger
Symbol - Bloody shuriken
Centers of Worship - Goka, Kaoling, Lingshen, Nagajor
Nationality - Tian-Shu
Yaezhing is the god of murder and death. But as the Minister of Blood, he is also the punisher of the gods, the enforcer of divine justice. His dual roles sometimes conflict with one another, as when Yaezhing had to carry out Shizuru’s punishment against Fumeiyoshi, who had murdered his brother Tsukiyo. This duality is also reflected in Yaezhing’s temples, where his priests are often contracted to mete out
punishments for convicted criminals, but are also available for murder for hire. Yaezhing is the patron of ninja and assassins, but he is also worshiped by executioners, judges, and those constables for whom inflicting punishment is more important than determining guilt. He appears as a shadowy humanoid figure swathed in darkness. His head is that of a tiger with human eyes.
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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."
Titles: Lord of Envy
Alignment Neutral evil
Portfolio: Dishonor, Envy, Graves, Undead
Domains: Death, Destruction, Evil, Repose, War
Subdomains: Blood, Daemon, Souls, Rage, Tactics, Undead
Favored Weapon: Naginata
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?"
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"Basically, the opportune chances of figuring out the right ratio of molten lead to quicksilver to bronze is best done in a proper workshop under trained professionals and not in a dingy stable that is two halflings deep with offal and refuse like its the Puddles district and some two bit hack thief is running away with his next weeks worth of food money lifeted off some Opparran transplant who doesn't know that his title means miniscule in Taldor and even less in Absalom where every Taldan ingress since Stavian wore diapers has failed like so many lead to gold alchemical experiments done by apprentices who have no idea that you pour water into acid instead of acid into water lest your three weeks worth of careful calcuations and four weeks worth of gainful employment end in the sort of mushroom cloud that scatters carefully scribed notes and hastily prepared vials all over the pile of rubble that used to be and technically still is owned by the Alkenstar clockworks even though they sent me off without my last weeks worth of pay which would have been just enough to upgrade my boat here to Absalom from fourth class to third class and would have given me a porthole window in my cabin to look out on the offshore whalers with their tiny boats and even tinier harpoons triumphing over whales three times the size and 1.6 times as angry in a true proof of concept that tools and work and ingenuity triumph over nature when nature lets us fight on even footing and doesnt just break all of our careful work in a tornado or grease fire or æther vortex any number of other natural disasters that always seem to end with a new job search and interviews like this one just to get access to the notes of similar inventors lest another three dozen golems suffer more thermal breakdown during lava resistant stress testing and spray sparks across the workshop because no on likes getting sparks sprayed on them save for a few things that I heard about the bosslady Dralneen but Brigh teaches us that those aren't as important as the inevitable march of scientific thought so I was hoping that the Pathfinder Society would be a perfect place to learn of other inventors progress in alloy infusion but I've explored and reported but it doesn't seem like anyone else really wants to co-operate on any sort of reasearch so I was sent here because while everyone else seems to be in service to lore no one else will let me learn from them and I keep ending up at a spot where all of the mercury boils too quickly and the bronze solidifies and the fires are easy enough to put out but bossdragon Tahonikepsu still thinks that maybe a safer place would be 'somewhere away from her' so will you sponsor me or not?"
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Yuuno looks between Diri and Nameva, in obvious confusion with how the conversation has turned. To Nameva she says "That one speaks very quickly. Much too complex for one just off the ship from Goka. I think I heard something about constucts though. Need me to break a few? Put them on ground, so the "tinker" can take them apart? Sound like good time, and Yuuno not on job right now anyway."
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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?"
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A fit, well-dressed Chelaxian man with an exotic polearm in hand walks by the the area in the Grand Lodge and stops suddenly. He turns to look at the trio? quartet? of beings, and focuses intently on the halfling. Feet spread shoulder-width and balance ready for conflict he seems to wait patiently for his attention to be returned.
A calculating glance goes to Niri, seeming to take in her physical form, but then he looks to Yuuno and lingers a little longer on her, perhaps taking in the dimensions of her wrists? After a short moment, he clears his throat so that Namaeva can definitely hear him.
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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.
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Marcellus remains standing, both hands on the polearm, and tries hard (but fails) to hide a smirk. He shakes his head slowly, and his smile grows into a warm one.
"I should have known my family name would become public some day. I guess there are secrets that just can't be hidden away. My name is Marcellus, and I would very much prefer you call me that, Namaeva."
He looks around the general area. "Now, the reason I stopped is that some activities might not be appropriate for very public areas. I hope you take that into consideration when you organize what you do here. And yes, I do notice your ample skills in this area. It just takes time to understand which of the myriad considerations you attend to are the actual, important ones."
He nods to the gnome and Tian woman. "Greetings to you both. I am Marcellus, and I might assist the Master of Swords in some of your continuing education. For a bit of advice, try to assimilate all you can, because varied skills of dealing with people can become very important to your careers."
His eyes return to Namaeva and he waits patiently for her to calm herself and respond.
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"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?"
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The lean, muscular man chuckles softly, and does take the indicated seat. "I am sorry to disabuse your sensibilities, Namaeva, but I don't think I could distinguish between the two. There are those back in the Court in Egorian who could expound at length on the subtleties," he rolls his eyes at the recollection, "but I am not one of them."
He looks to the industrious creature for a moment, rather intently, and then shoots his eyes back to Namaeva.
"Forgive me, you will have to explain the intricacies of interactions with your ... assistants. There's no side effects as might occur with the ... wrapped slumberers in Osirion? I don't think I have met one except on the other side of my weapons."
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"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."
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Marcellus nods dubiously, and then sips at his tea. "You do understand that you will have rather severe prejudices to overcome? I suspect that bringing Fuzz... bungler up here to the main area of the Grand Lodge might not be the best choice. I think in the actual area of the Archives he would be less of a distraction." Once again, he sips at the tea and looks to the cup as if studying it to try to learn what characteristics are important.
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A pale man with dark eyes emerges from the shadows. His clothes bear an unfamiliar pattern (unless you have been to Nidal), his featues though still admirable bear numerous scars...many have healed still many remain. The movements are measured and direct as if he stepped from a stage into the room. Oddly he wears scale mail, yet his steps are as quiet as the dead. "Oh sorry I took a wrong turn at the last shadow. Ummm... is that a zombie?" One hand slides upwards to rest on a greatsword.
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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?"
"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?"
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He nods sagely at what the halfling said. "He was at the Blackros Museum when there was some ... difficulty there. Hasn't been the same since."
He rises smoothly, transferring the polearm to his left hand, and offers his hand for a shake. "Marcellus. You may have seen me as an instructor in the Swords' training yard."
His eyes go to note the pattern in Shayd's clothes, but he makes no comment on them; there is just a brief flash of hardness in his glance.
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I am Shayd formerly of Nidal. The glorious Librarianatrixness Zarta Dralneen rescued me from the grasp of the flayer of souls. I have experienced new found freedoms never allowed before, I even get to walk around unchained most of the day. Its amazing that this much freedom is allowed, but some days I miss the pain. I've not been beaten into unconsciousness in months.
Shayd seems puzzled by Marcellus's gesture. He tilts his head to one side, draws a sharp knife and places the pommel into your hand. Then pulls back the bracer on his forearm revealing a number of old scars... he waits patiently.
Yunno, my prior work was as a test subject for the flayers cleric Asthelius. He ran afoul of a short armored person on a four legged beast. I offered myself for slaughter but I was too weak to sacrifice. Instead I was brought here to serve the Darkive.
I trained some but the instructors are strange here. No one uses real blades, and fighting to the death or maiming the opponent is considered rude. Zarta has asked me to reposess items and persons for her instead. It is simple work, but some strange persons kept cutting the chains of Zarta's property..so I had to perform the reposession once the mission was over. I was grateful for the beating I received as a reward for my service.
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"The mission I came closest to failing was in Nidal. We could not rescue our guide, and following that was utter chaos. I found the place distasteful." He takes the blade and reverses it, passing it back to the owner, hilt first. "We don't damage other Pathfinders here, not if we can help it. I frowned at my memories of Nidal, not at anything you did. And, if you need a workout with live steel, it can be arranged, but it is best done with healers about so there is no accidental loss of life or limb. We do not need any additional jeopardy over and above what we get on missions."
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You have many odd customs. You dont carve your sigils into the flesh of allies, you use blunted weapons to avoid blessed injury. Use healers to recover instead of enjoying the pain that battle brings. There are very few surgical alterations as well...curious.
Still I live here now, so its best to follow the local customs.
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"I think you've got it all wrong because the best results come from an experiment that is a success and usually when it hurts that means something went wrong like when you're doing pressure testing and the molten mercury goes volatile at a couple of hundred degrees which is just enough to cause the bronze to peel and when the container that your mercury is in starts to peel you find yourself looking for new lab assistants again and possibly a new employer or country on the opposite half of Avistan away from the naysayers who keep saying 'just because it's possible doesn't mean it's a good idea' as if the proof of concept isn't important because you're too dense to look at a scholarly journal or appreciate the theoretical concept of a quicksilver infused bronze that would be super strong and moreover really freaking awesome and useful for things like building better containers to hold hotter more pressurized mercury which could then be combined with even more stuff like adamantine or gold or pretty much anything once you get it hot enough but you should always be careful because burns are painful and no one realy likes to get hurt except for you so have you ever considered being a laboratory assistant in service to the Whisper?"
"Not only do you get to be at the forefront of progress in all fields from physics to chemistry to metallurgy to alchemy to astrology to theoretical kineticism but you also get to say you were the first person to solve a problem that the lesser minds wouldn't even recognize as possible even though sometimes it turns out to be impossible but knowing is half the battle and being able to repeat the experiment is at least a sixth of the battle and the actual battle is only like one third of the battle and I've double-checked my calculations so you can trust them because I only round if it makes the math look nice in the report and never for sheer convenience because that's how really dangerous errors happen so you should sponsor me to join the Dark Archive because it's scientifically possible to be sponsored by your own lab assistant."
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I have little time for experimentation. My business is the reposession of things and people for the Darkive and its faction leader Zarta Dralneen.
It does sounds painful, so my 4th day of the week is usually open for new experiences. I was going to duel Mr. Thrune, but I dont think he truly wants to deal lethal damage.
It reminds me of my last mission. The other pathfinders wanted to deal subdual damage...so I obliged. My target fell prone before another member and I summarily staves his head in with the Obsidian pommel stone of my sword.
I did follow Zarta's direction and said sorry to the dead man. The An door An seemed unhappy with my apology.
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Diri sighs.
"I've never been able to grasp the concept of dueling because every time I'd show up to a duel with three clockwork spies and a pistol the other guy would insist that I'm not fighting fair even though I was smart enough to bring backup and he just had a little pointy toothpick that his father gave to him when he turned 18 instead of a technical manual and some tools like any good dad in his workshop back in the Wastes where gears and machines and alchemical apparatuses were the only thing worth practicing because if you don't practice you end up with acid burns and dents in your armor where the molten lead impacts like miniature meteors before solidifying into craters with coronas like the eclipse in the murals when the golden gargoyle decided to retell the entire story of Jormurdun but kept saying Ashkurhall because apparently Dwarves don't learn from their mistakes and that's why no one's in Koldukar anymore but if you say that to a dwarf they'll probably hit you with one of those over-sized hammers that they always show Torag with which is a shame because the only thing better than their metal-craft is their insistence on not telling me how to cast adamantine even though it would be perfect for experiments that I have in mind from pressure testing to explosion containment to bullet stopping because normal armor doesn't seem to work against bullets because firearms are a gift from Brigh herself in the form of a riddle about whether or not there is technology so advanced that it cannot be advanced and I think I can advance it but only if I can get some cooperation and no one on this continent seems to want to let me see any experimentation notes because of 'safety regulations' and 'fire hazards' and 'unsafe working environments' and other made-up terms that the technologically unsavvy make up just to hold down the little guys who make everything possible in the world today by not being held to the standards foisted upon them by wizards in their ivory towers who won't even let me read their spell-books even though it could push advancement forward years at a time if I could find a way to channel lightning into an entire grid of clockworks at once but it's always "No, you can't be trusted with chain lightning" as if I'd ever use it on a fellow humanoid even though I know that Wizard McWizardpants wouldn't hesitate to roast an entire peasant convention if they looked at him wrong or were loud or hungry or just in the way like the swarm of festerogs and ghouls that I ran into on my third-to-last mission where I found out that while undead can be set on fire they are respectful and fearful of the awesome power of the Whisper and tend to run off to find their festerog friends and ghast buddies who also respect and fear the awesome power of Brigh as all who decide that thought isn't important and advancement isn't necessary because otherwise what the hell am I supposed to do with all of this quicksilver?"
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Marcellus' eyes go wide at Diri's speech, though he seems to follow most of it.
He speaks in an aside to Shayd while still looking to the alchemist/scientist. "I will engage with lethal force if you like, however, I -won't- kill you. It is far too costly to replace a brave and loyal agent, so that part won't happen." Then he shifts his attention back to the non-stop talking woman:
"You know, there are places you can make your own for experimentation, such as an unoccupied siege tower and smaller islands off of Kortos. I believe many of the objections leveled at your research would disappear if you were working away from populated areas." He pauses and taps his chin for a moment. "Now, I, myself, am no effective researcher, though I have gained some insight into many areas of knowledge in my time with the Pathfinders. It might be possible to gather sufficient lore and equipment to suffice for beginning needs, and it sounds like you could create your own more advanced tools as you work. It is possible that I could acquire such a place..." He leaves the suggestion hanging.
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Still holding his fauchard, Marcellus looks to Yuuno. "I use weapons as the tools they are. My fists and feet are enough to take down many foes, but I specialize in minimizing damage to my team. With this," He tilts the polearm, "I can prevent the approach of many enemies, saving injury and equipment damage." He shrugs and continues. "I find it important to keep those I work with alive and hale."
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"Weapon only good until lost. Yuuno get close, your weapon no good. Then you be on ground taking foot to head. Someone grab Yuuno, they get big surprise when Yuuno don't care and headbutt them anyway. Gave official at Shaguang border chance to retract his lying of official law and tell truth or let us pass. He told men to attack, saying they be reborn as terra-cotta warriors. They all get knocked out, not killed. Forced official to tell truth and let us pass anyway. Made him join Lady Zarta's cause. He think Yuuno would fall down laughing, but Yuuno just laugh at spell, and knock him down."
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Diri, bring 3 clockwork spies and a pistol. Ill take that duel.
Life too casually kept is not valuable. Life too casially taken becomes incredibly valuable. I lived a hard life in Nidal, it is safer here and perhaps too safe. Im anxious to be in the field again, unfortunately this undead is tame...I'd hoped it was otherwise. Ahh well soon enough.
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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!"
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Marcellus' face breaks into a grin as he nods to Yuuno. "That sounds like a challenge to me. We can try things out on the training field, and it might be an excellent lesson for aspiring Lore Wardens to see." He thinks carefully on what to say next. "I have yet to lose my weapon, save when I dropped it to wrap my arms around a monster, to take it prisoner, and was thereby taken to another plane of existence." He chuckles softly at the memory. "I learned from it too. I rarely go after magic-using non-spellcasters with that kind of tactics any more."
He watches the flow of conversation a moment, then picks up and samples the tea, his face taking on a distant expression as he tries to detect the subtleties that Namaeva seems to think are important.
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"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."
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(Perception r - 12, b 13, t-28)
(Motive r-16, b -1, t-15)
(Note I entered as you announced his type, which Thrune confirmed, hence my question, then you focused away and as it wasnt attacking me it seemed a harmless enough. I rarely roll sense motive as social isnt my skillset yet. I just go with the bluffs as real...we're all lawful right :-)
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(Perception r - 12, b 13, t-28)
(Motive r-16, b -1, t-15)
(Note I entered as you announced his type, which Thrune confirmed, hence my question, then you focused away and as it wasnt attacking me it seemed a harmless enough. I rarely roll sense motive as social isnt my skillset yet. I just go with the bluffs as real...we're all lawful right :-)
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"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."
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"He left quietly." Marcellus shrugs, and refocuses on the halfling.
He furrows his brow, recollecting on something. "I've only gone up against robots one time, but that time they weren't all that dangerous to our group. Like most things with a man-shape, they don't fight well from lying on the ground. They are pretty hard to hurt, but with more skill comes the ability to target precisely and punch through the protections they have. We did learn that lightning can cause them great difficulty; you just have to use enough of it."
"I have heard that some groups that encountered robots had real difficulty with them. I think capturing a few to see how they work might be very useful." He turns to look at the rapid-speaking scientist, "Would you be able to do something with a study-subject, Miss Diri?"
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A jovial fat snake man sweat dripping profusely from scaled skin pants for a moment before shaking a fist at his mortal enemy, the stairs. He will than turn and nod to the gathering, before speaking.
Dah, bloody ssstairsss. One day I will get you ssstairsss, you and all your progeny! Ah, hello good friendsss. Thisss isss my firsst time here ssssince the... Ahem. Change.
I am Ssssin of Asssmodeusss. I'm afraid I do not adventure that often anymore, but perhapsss I will sssee ssssome of you when my lodge hasss been asssigned.
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"Excuse me, are you Dark Archive members? Can I trouble you for information on joining? I've already scoured the 'public' section of the archives, and I hear the Dark Archive has access to knowledge the rest of the Society doesn't."
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."
A jovial fat snake man sweat dripping profusely from scaled skin pants for a moment before shaking a fist at his mortal enemy, the stairs. He will than turn and nod to the gathering, before speaking.
Dah, bloody ssstairsss. One day I will get you ssstairsss, you and all your progeny! Ah, hello good friendsss. Thisss isss my firsst time here ssssince the... Ahem. Change.
I am Ssssin of Asssmodeusss. I'm afraid I do not adventure that often anymore, but perhapsss I will sssee ssssome of you when my lodge hasss been asssigned.
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."
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"Sorry to interupt, but I was wonering what, if anything, the Dark Archive has left to offer those of us of a less... scholarly bent." The speaker is a towering half orc in Hellknight plate.
"Or is there another organization that would be more... beneficial?"
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A feline humanoid glides in. His clothing reminds you of the Kalistraders, white silks and ermine furs bleached to perfection. A ruby heart of superior quality shockingly set a fire on his necktie, while diamond cufflinks sparkle in its light. A symbol of Asmodeus glitters on his belt, but within the symbol is a golden Calistrian wasp.
Prrray why leave our happy homee. Doess not thiss club suit yourr prroclivities. Therre arre none that satisfy my thirrrsts than the Darrkive. Orr forrgive soo welll, my avarricious ways. Which one interrested you?
The coinerrs of Szarni and Qdirra
The shiny knights of Zzadrrian
The vainglorrious nobles of Morrila
The sullen Decemvirratians
The fools of Andorran Liberrty
I find the Darrk halls comforrtable and open to the blessings of love in all itss myrriad oppurrtunities.
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"You know," Marcellus drawls just a little, addressing the Hellknight, Vrakiss. "You might find just a ... little difficulty with the establishment here. It seems that at least one Order had imposed on them some bad paperwork, and a significant personage was, shall we say, sent to a hmmm, bad place. The order imposed by Orders might not be as ordered as some from the Orders might like around here." The unarmored man tosses his polearm to his free hand.
"However there is, in fact, need for underlings to protect and defend those who are studying and collating information. It might just be a place you fit in well. You could always apply for an internship and see what comes of it." He looks the Hellknight over once again, and turns his attention to the improbably dressed newcomer.
His eyes focus on the holy symbol at the belt. "Doctor Love, I would have to say. Greetings on this fine day."
He turns once again and offers a small smile to Namaeva, but then looks to the rotund, scaly man with a puzzled look on his face.
"Sin'Thal, I would have expected that someone of your ... experience and tendencies would not tend to do battle with conveyances and passages, but would rather just cut out the intermediaries. Why bother with the chaff to get to the kernel of matters?"
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Grrettings to you all, altough I am not a frrequent attendant herre.
My trravels have been in Irrissen although upon my returrn to Absolom I was swept into a tapestrry for an odd adventurre. I somewhat horrified a silverr crrusaderr by my suggestions of love to an enemy of weak will. I dare say when love is less purreferable than warrfarre something is wrrong in one's mind.
I did not underrstand his meaning of enslavement of the mind being eevil. It is something I shall endeavorr to underrstand as I wish to rremain a pathfinderr.
Yet soon I will return to the snows and leave this worrld to reclaim a missing witch. It is an odd quest, but I have no choice in it.