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Just inside the doors of Skyreach hovers Flix, his forelimbs filled with parchments, quills, a couple journals, and what appears to be several tribal fetishes.
"Can anyone help me? Wyra told me to get some things for her research and said that she'd meet me here. But I can't seem to find her..." The little dragon's expression quite clearly belies concern, frustration, and slight exhaustion.
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A gnome dressed in a mithral chain shirt, and robes over it, walks by purposefully. He has very dark blue hair and a rather subdued mustache (for a gnome)with just a hint of white in it. He wears a headband, buckler, and a rather small cloak, more of a shawl really, which is tucked under his backpack.
I . . . hmmm. He pauses at the faerie dragon. I've been called . . . oh very well. I'm Thermin Oswin Grundersnutt, a member of the pathfinder research team. He reaches up to help the creature unload some of its burdensome items. I've bee called on for one of those crazy 'adventure' things just now by . . . oh, what's her name. Ollysta Zadrian, that's it. I suppose I could spare a few moments though . . . I don't know a Wyra, but maybe we can figure out where you need to go."
Grundersnutt examines some of the items the Faerie dragon has on him.
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"Oh yes, how foolish of me, Wyra is my...I hate to say master, it sounds so...unpleasant, but I'm her familiar. She's a Gnome like yourself, good sir, though perhaps she's not like you at all. At least not beyond sharing a similar biological makeup. She's got flaming red hair, bright orange skin, wears brilliantly colored robes, and has an undying fascination of fire." Flix sputters, clearly trying to be polite but still in a bit a of a flurry. |"Ohh...she's usually good about this...I really hope she forgot, I'd hate this to turn out to be some elaborate prank..."
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"Oh yes, how foolish of me, Wyra is my...I hate to say master, it sounds so...unpleasant, but I'm her familiar. She's a Gnome like yourself, good sir, though perhaps she's not like you at all. At least not beyond sharing a similar biological makeup. She's got flaming red hair, bright orange skin, wears brilliantly colored robes, and has an undying fascination of fire." Flix sputters, clearly trying to be polite but still in a bit a of a flurry. |"Ohh...she's usually good about this...I really hope she forgot, I'd hate this to turn out to be some elaborate prank..."
Wait, you are a Familiar? I understand these things, I have such a bond myself, though he is currently sleeping in my pack. Most masters and familiars share some form of empathic link, an ability to transmit feelings over a distance of roughly one mile, correct? Mine certainly does. Can't you just think at her strongly about needing her? Feeling lost? Such an action should at least alert her to your current . . . state of distress.
Grundersnutt thumbs through some of the parchments that he has relieved the Faerie dragon of. Proper application of fireballs? How to burn through a resistance to fire? Burning fire elementals to death? Who . . . who would want such things? Grundersnutt sighs and shakes his head. That's the problem with these pathfinders, too much fascination with blowing stuff up. You need proper applications of crucial tactical and enhancement spells if you really want to succeed.
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Hmm, tracking someone down, and a gnome no less that never turns out well. Could be fun, maybe it's time I introduce myself
Coming out into the yard comes a man dressed in Mithril Full Plate though he moves as if it weren't even there. A backpack, bow, and quivers strung over his shoulders.
"A gnome, could be interesting. Have you a picture or footprint?" I can track her down probably but might be more helpful to have something to follow. Talking to people is not my specialty. Oh I should introduce myself I always forget, I'm Bart mostly I shoot things with arrows, but I can track too. I have a longer name and embarrassing title, but good to get away from paperwork.
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"An empathic link? Oh, right, yes!" Flix replies, scrunching his brow, clearly trying to focus his thoughts. His concentration quickly breaks as he hears Grundersnutt's observations on the research material.
"Oh, Wyra loves making effective use of fire spells, something of her specialty, though I have seen her make effective use of her school understanding. An acid infused fireball is rather interesting to watch, though likely less so to feel. Anyways, Wyra has had a recent fascination in the concept of overcoming the elemental resistances and immunities of creatures so that she could rely less on her school understanding." Flix deliberates, clearly quite knowledgeable on the subject, "Actually, did you know that Water Elementals posses no elemental resistances? And thus they actually can be injured by fire spells."
Flix attention quickly shifts to the heavily armored man with the bow and quivers slung over his shoulder. "A picture or footprint? No, I don't think I have any of that, sorry. Its nice to meet you Bart, I am Flix, Faerie Dragon familiar of Wyra Fraym." Flix offers a foreclaw for a handshake.
"Oh! Ok, yes, I suppose getting away from duties such as those might be nice. I wouldn't really know, the extent of my duties are essentially wand-wielder, go-for, research assistant, and best friend." Flix continues, smiling pleasantly. "I suppose my only problem is when Wyra gets distracted and runs off. I guess its the fate I've been served as the familiar of a Gnome."
"Oh, no offense intended Mr. Grundersnutt, and I presume you may be wondering if I can contact her telepathically. Unfortunately, no, she is not within one hundred feet of me."
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"Hmmmm, well, if you can't telepathically link to her, maybe we can finde her another way. I need you to describe something she is likely to have on her. In excruciating detail-a picture would help. Then Nethys can help me locate that object on her . . . unless of course she readily practices non-detection. Should be effective to a range of about 800 feet, so if I cast it in the middle of the grand lodge, I should be able to find her if she's here at all.
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"Wait!" Flix exclaim, his foreclaw withdrawing from an offer of a handshake to slapping his forehead. "I keep forgetting that I have these abilities!"
Flix begins gesturing in an arcane manner, muttering a few words.
An unmoving completely life-like replica of Wyra appears before the group.
"Her robes are rather special, Mr. Grundersnutt, she's told me that they help amplify her bloodline, or something like that. Nevertheless she rarely removes them. As for her hair, well...she never has the same hairstyle for long, and she often changes it over the course of the day with Prestidigitation." Flix elaborates as he flitters about, making sure the illusory copy of Wyra is accurate. He then notices the strange fox who had been on Grundersnutt's head and had scampered off. "Who? Is that...a Pathfinder? There's something odd about that fox. Oh well, no matter..."
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"Well, that's nice. Come Flix, we make for the center of the courtyard, best chance with the spell there. Grundersnutt makes his way to the center of the grand lodge, pausing for a moment to do some mental calculations, before deciding where the exact 'center' spot is. Haven't actually ever cast this spell before. Nethys gave it to me, but I've not found a use for it. Let's hope it works.
Grundersnutt closes his eyes, concentrating hard on the picture of the image's robes. His fingers seem to then move of their own accord, weaving a spell.
After a scant few seconds, the spell finishes.
Hmmmm, I'm getting a reading on a robe matching that description. The Gnome wheels around and takes stalk of the surroundings, then re-directes his attention at some seemingly-commonplace spot on the on a building some 100 yards away.
Hmmm, I'm familiar with those robes, though I have no need of them myself. They are fairly common, but tend to form unique stitching to each suitable wearer. Unless there is another Gnome, or Halfling I suppose, with a similar item and similar persuasion, I believe this 'Wyra' is in the meeting hall commonly designated for the Silver Crusade . . . Grundersnutt purses his lips and takes stalk of the ground, then measures several sight-lines with his fingers. She, or at least the robes, are hanging about three feet off the ground. Perhaps she's sitting on a window sill or something? Anyway, I must get going, the famed paladin named Honor is waiting for me for some fool adventure. Curse this gnomish biology . . . just want to read . . . Grundersnutt continues to mutter to himself as he makes his way towards the grand library of the Grand Lodge.