Oh dear, can someone help me?


Grand Lodge

Grand Lodge

A rather plain, though well-built man walks into the grand lodge, holding a sheaf of papers he is pointing to frantically. He wears a suit of four-mirror armor that looks out of place and ill-fitted. He looks to be of Chrllexian decent, but bears a wooden holy symbol of Abadar.

Oh dear, please, can someone help me? There seems to have been a mix-up! I. . . I was hired as a legal consultant and filing clerk for the society. But an individual named. . . the man tries to decipher some writing on one of the sheets of paper Dreng? Drengle dreng? He has misclassified me as a 'field agent!'

Grand Lodge

"Dreng you a say? Aye, he is of a special sort when it comes to finding positions for new agents." Casually walking towards the man, Auriea smiles brightly while listening. "Almost every one of us is a field agent, yet all of us are of different occupations. I, myself, am quite adept at dance."

Wearing harem pants of a dark blue, and a green shirt and vest, it seems as if he were supposed to be in one of the hotter countries. A slight glimmer under his vest, gives away the fact that he is also wearing a finely made chainshirt. The air itself seemed to muffle this, dancer's, footsteps on the hard floor, while his skin seemed oddly pale, almost translucent.

Knowledge Planes DC 15:
Auriea is a sylph.

"To tell you the truth, it would be grand to have someone of the law to take field missions. Some of the other agents seem to have a total disregard for the laws of some places. Maybe Mister Dreng found a good candidate for field law." Auriea chuckled as came closeer to Ben, stopping in front of him and bowing slightly.

Grand Lodge

Oh, but sir, I am no adventurer, I don't even practice law, I'm not an accredited barrister! My position is, erm, let me explain. In Chelliax, the barristers are quite busy with arguing legal cases in courts, so they will sometimes hire people to do their legal research and clerical paperwork for them. We are called paralegals. An adventurer? I don't even own a weapon! Or armor! I mean this- he points to his armor-was given to me by a Mr. Valsin when I brought my concerns to him. He told me 'try not to die!'

I mean, I guess I know HOW to use a few weapons. The priests at the temple of Abadar trained us how to defend ourselves against bandits, but that was a long time ago, and I didn't even complete the training! I washed out of the program when they said I didn't have enough 'force of personality' to become a true cleric of Abadar! Oh dear, this won't do at all!

Grand Lodge

A man wearing a fairly tarnished mithral breastplate and a wide array of weapons stumbles into the hall. His clothes are in a bit of disarray, and he smells strongly of stale beer. He wears a symbol of Cayden Cailean. While obviously drunk, he moves with some grace, hinting at an elven heritage. The only orderly thing about this person seems to be his hair and beard. They are very neatly groomed and trimmed.

“Oh, hello there. I think I heard something about not using weapons? What’s that funny looking thing you are wearing? Reminds me a bit of that armor that gladiator wore in Tymon. You look like you could use a drink.”

The man reaches down and retrieves a flask. He holds it out to the distressed young man.

“Don’t you worry bout weapons. I got enough for the two of us. Hell, my friend Finneaus, not sure he even carries a weapon in the field. Sure helps us out with his magic though, has kept me standing through some fights, wasn’t sure I’d make it through. Not all field agents be using weapons, that’s my point. You’ll be good for somthin, don’t you worry.”

The man turns and looks around, before turning back to the two in front of him.

“Oh, thought I heard my wife, guess not. Best to stay on her good side, she’s got a bit of a temper. We met on field assignment in Irrisin. I found her a pretty flower during a blizzard while we were on watch together. So keep your head up son, you might even find love out there.”

Grand Lodge

The man absently takes the bottle but just holds it in his hands

Wha-spells? Oh no sir, I am no high priest or archmage. I mean, yes, while growing up at the monistary, I did learn how to ask Abadar for a few minor things, looking for and reading magic, some remedial healing, but nothing like what you describe!

For seemingly the first time Ben takes stock of the half-elf.

Oh my! Is, is that how many weapons it takes to be a field agent? Oh, oh dear

Ben finds a chair and slumps down in it, trying to console himself but immediately jumps up in a start. He throws open a portion of his robe to reveal a stash of eleven pens, each, each in their own little pocket sewn into his robe.

Craft weapons DC 15 (5 if from Tien) or perception DC 15:
The pens are actually Iron Brushes, martial weapons that do 1d3 dmg

Oh, ouch, poked myself again.

Grand Lodge

"I can help you with that."
This is spoken by a rather forgettable young Taldan man with unkempt hair.
"I've gone through the reclassification process myself. It does involve a lot of paperwork, but it was worth it for me."

Grand Lodge

Perception: 1d20 + 22 ⇒ (2) + 22 = 24

"What do you mean you don't got weapons... Those little sticks look sharp, never seen anything like them though. Good idea to carry something small. I once had to resort to using an arrow to cut my way out from the inside of something called a Dust Digger, ever since then I started wearing this spiked gauntlet, make sure I'm always armed. My wife did come to help me get out of that, but she doesn't cut much with her fists or staff.

Like I said, not all field agents carry loads of weapons like I do. Many offer other talents, some try to hide in crates some give great hair cuts. I'm sure you'll do fine.

That flasks for drinkin out of, if you don't want any, pass it along."

This character doesn't recognize the 4 mirror armor or the iron brushes, because he is a CORE campaign PC

Grand Lodge

Whiskey Ghostfire wrote:

[dice=Perception]1d20+22

"What do you mean you don't got weapons... Those little sticks look sharp, never seen anything like them though. Good idea to carry something small. I once had to resort to using an arrow to cut my way out from the inside of something called a Dust Digger, ever since then I started wearing this spiked gauntlet, make sure I'm always armed. My wife did come to help me get out of that, but she doesn't cut much with her fists or staff.

Like I said, not all field agents carry loads of weapons like I do. Many offer other talents, some try to hide in crates some give great hair cuts. I'm sure you'll do fine.

That flasks for drinkin out of, if you don't want any, pass it along."

This character doesn't recognize the 4 mirror armor or the iron brushes, because he is a CORE campaign PC

What? No, these are pens. See, this set Ben gestures to ten of the pens I got for helping clear up Lord Eckheart Henderthane's cold iron weapons caravan . . . they had been under some questionable, turns out illegal sanctions, and I cleared that up. And this Ben points to a special pocket with a silver brush. Was a going-away present. Lord Henderthane gave it to me as a token for all my hard work when he transferred me to the pathfinder society.

Craft-weapons DC 10 or Knowledge Dungeoneering/Religion DC 15:
The pen is made out of mithral

Wait, did you say EATEN? I . . . Wait, no, I could get EATEN? AS IN EATEN ALIVE? Cut your . . . you had to cut . . yourself . . .out of a stomach . . .

Ben absently sits down again and takes a large draw from the flask of alchohol.

I'm going to die.

Grand Lodge

A jovial looking gnome stops to join in the conversation. He is wearing a belt pouch, which gives off a pleasant aroma of various herbs, and he has a wand absent-mindedly stuck behind one ear like a pen. Accompanying the gnome is a large St. Bernard, which glows with a soft other-worldly aura.

"You're not going to die, good sir! Well, eventually, yes . . . Pharasma gets to us all in the end, of course, but that's not what I'm talking about. What I mean to say is that you came to the right place asking for help. Your brothers in the Grand Lodge, stand up fellows one and all, we'll do our best to keep you alive and out of the stomachs of various beasties who might fancy you for a snack. And, honestly, look at me - there's a lot more things that could eat me than could eat you! What I mean to say is that you don't go out into the field alone, but with a team. You might get paired with with a medic, like myself, or a stout warrior like Master Ghostfire, or one of those wizard types that can light up your enemies with fire. Fascinating stuff, magic! I don't much understand it myself, though occasionally Sarenrae helps get me out of a jam with a little something special. What I mean to say is we've got your back, sir!"

The gnome pauses briefly to catch his breath, but before anyone has a chance to interrupt he adds, "And they'll be wanting you to share your expertise too. I admit I'm not the smartest fellow in the Pathfinder Society, and it sounds like you're good with the books and the figuring things out. If you hang out with lawyers, you're probably also pretty good at talking to people and convincing them to do what you want. That's better than fighting, if you ask me. You didn't, of course, but I still think it's true. Tell people that they're doing something foolish, and give 'em a chance to change before you go bashing them over the head. That's what Sarenrae is all about. Personally, I think the Qadirans get to hung up on the smiting people with fire part!"

Someone eventually interrupts Barjandar because he shows no sign of stopping his rambling . . .

Grand Lodge

A young Tian man approaches, with seemingly conflicting brightly coloured eyes, clad in a simple Hakama and Gi, with a Haramaki as his only armour. He carries a single pitch-black katana at his waist. Though with the overall appearance of a lightly armoured and agile warrior-type, a spell component pouch betrays his minor spell casting ability.

Knowledge Local DC 10, 5 for those from Tian Xia:
He is of the Tian-min ethnicity, of Minkai.

"What appears to be the cause of today's commotion?"

knowledge local: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

(Just assuming that another check might be necessary for the armour too. I'm using the same DC for the pens, if appropriate)

"Four-mirror armour? That's quite an unusual sight this side of the wall of heaven."

knowledge local: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17

(Also I'm not sure how to impose a maximum end result of 10 onto the syntax of the dice rolls. I'm just getting used to this)

Grand Lodge

Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14 no maximum when dealing with humans
Knowledge Geography: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25

Whiskey looks around, seems a bit confused.
"Are all of you Pathfinders? Many of you have strange equipment and are from quite far away.

I don't believe the quartermaster stocks such armors or weapons here at the Grand Lodge.

Ah, what ever."

Whiskey pulls out a few more flasks and offers them to the newer arrivals.

"Have a drink, its good for you. Ben did you say your name was? A hit off of this will help give you the backbone necessary to face the dangers you will see. Have a drink and take some chances and Cayden Calien will smile upon you! Many of my friends say I am reckless, but I've always come out ahead in my explorations and adventures."

Looking again with a slight confused expression.

"oh and if any of you need a guide while around the Inner Sea, I am a professional."

Grand Lodge

Ben looks up with a start at the name of the lucky drunk.

Cayden? Oh I hope not! He was the cause of half my headaches in lord Henderthane's employ. Failure to pay taxes, paying taxes in beer, brewing without a proper licence, attempted bribery of public officials with spirits. . . The list goes on. . .

Grand Lodge

Ben Goshey Hojoin wrote:


Failure to pay taxes, paying taxes in beer, brewing without a proper licence, attempted bribery of public officials with spirits. . . The list goes on. . .

Whiskey looks over at Ben with an expression that says he's heard all about this kind of thing before.

"Humph, your one o' them lawful types eh. My wife an I have had plenty o arguments, bout such stuff. Taxes this, taxes that, can't cross the street there, can't wander the street while intoxicated... blah, blah, blah.

Look if someone really needs help you help them, otherwise I say mind yer own business. Thats my philosophy.

Live and let live, unless they try to hurt me or my fellow pathfinders, specially my Nili, or other innocents for that matter.

An have a drink, it will help you relax, you seem very uptight. You've got to let that string rest a little; just like unstringing a bow, otherwise it'll be ruined, the string will loose its tension."

Grand Lodge

Jukutetsu accepts the drink, giving a slight laugh.

"Though the Quartermaster's stores of regular stocks may be extensive my friend, speaks nothing of what may or may not have washed up in the market and ended up at our doorsteps. I do believe I can personally attest to such."

He then turned to Ben.

"Though perhaps somewhat on the wilder side, our gregarious friend is right; whatever weighs upon your mind, if you have taken what precautions you are able to make, it is best not to dwell on such things unnecessarily. And if need be, a responsible drink or two may help."

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