|
A Black-haired Chellish man wearing standard breastplate with a Scimitar and Morning star on his belt is walking around the halls of the Grand Lodge, holding a massive stack of papers with both hands- at least 200 pages worth- and is absentmindedly wandering around, calling out.
"Dreng? Has anyone seen Dreng? I was going to give these to Valsin, but he said Dreng was the man to see. I have paperwork! I have-"
Frustrated, the man sets the papers down on a chair, and takes a rest.
"What on Golarian is the point of making a rule about filling out paperwork when no one is there to accept it! I mean, it's like I'm NOT supposed to follow the rules!" he mutters loudly to himself as he paces back and forth, trying to spy another soul in the hall.
|
An elegant Tiefling with a finely wrought cane ambles over to you.
Double D? - Last time I saw him he was in an alley begging for wine. I kept sending him a bottle every hour. The poor fellow.
Documentation, an interesting method. I prefer to task forgiveness rather than permission.
Oh yes, I'm Byron, Lord Byron Talimah. My father is / was a Pathfinder of little note. I'm sure you've never heard of him. I only recall the dodger whenever he comes looking for monetary assistance.
|
|
"Ask forgive. . . Oh! Oh no, you misunderstand. This is not permission-seeking." the man says as he points to the papers. "No no, this is my 47 epsilon stoke b. According to pathfinder bylaws, any death of a sentient creature caused by pathfinders not DIRECTLY related to a mission must be recorded in triplicate. On my latest mission my team and I were forced to defend a village from bandits, quite unrelated to our original quest parameters. I gave all of them proper last rights as befits Abadarian tradition, and then began filling out the paperwork. The rest is my field report.
I have to say, I used to hate combat, but defending a village against heretics of Abadar, it made me realize how fighting has its place.
Oh, Ben. Ben Goshy Hojoin, paralegal and accidental field agent for the society.
Ben bows properly to the lordling.
|
A somewhat short Kelesh man enters the hall, his naval attire clear for all to see.
"Some advice boy-o, try not to bow to all the nobles here, you'll end up with a stiff back and a bad posture." Pan quips, chuckling bemusedly to himself, "Anyways, the name's Kr̥pāṇa, but you can call me Pan, as I try to keep my proper name used only in formal circumstances. But...that's besides the case, so...what sort of help d'you require?" Pan says as he plunks himself on a chair, his legs crossed and his arms behind his head.
|
|
A somewhat short Kelesh man enters the hall, his naval attire clear for all to see.
"Some advice boy-o, try not to bow to all the nobles here, you'll end up with a stiff back and a bad posture." Pan quips, chuckling bemusedly to himself, "Anyways, the name's Kr̥pāṇa, but you can call me Pan, as I try to keep my proper name used only in formal circumstances. But...that's besides the case, so...what sort of help d'you require?" Pan says as he plunks himself on a chair, his legs crossed and his arms behind his head.
"Oh, I'm just trying to turn in the paperwork for my latest field mission." Ben gestures to the stack of over 200 papers, neatly aligned, sitting on the chair beside the Kellish man.
"I tried to turn them in to Venture Captain Valsin, but he said to find Dreng. My Name's Ben by the way."
He offers the man a handshake.
|
|
"Paperwork? All that? Huh. Well, to each his own I suppose, I tend to keep minimal paperwork myself. Heck this," Pan pulls back a sleeve revealing a tattoo on his arm, "-is all I have to indicate that I am a privateer in the employ of the Kelesh government. Good thing I've made it carry between forms..." Pan mumbles a few more things before shaking his head and accepting Ben's handshake.
"Sorry 'bout that, stray thoughts that shan't be put to words. Anyways, Dreng...that old duff's always there when you don't want him, and nowhere to be found when you do need him. My suggestion, just offload your paperwork on his desk. Maybe with some sort of indicator that you had completed the work." Pan offers, looking somewhat confusedly at the paperwork. "What does that all consist of anyways, that's a heck of a lot of paper there."
|
"Oh sheesh...." The obviously teifling woman of Chelaxian descent, with tiny little wings on her back, wearing a disheveled outfit yawns while she walks. Noticing the group of people, she wanders over, and seeing the stack of paper, she decides to see the topic of it as well. "Wow, someone reeeally likes to write such stuff." She leans over to look at the stack of papers. "Oh, its to Mr Dreng. At least I never had to be woken up in the middle of the night by him." She uses a claw to point out words while she reads. "Hehe... Looks like you had some fun~. You seem interesting, my name is Olyssia. It is nice to meet you."
|
|
To Pan: "Well, according to Section 47 Epsilon stroke b, I have to submit paperwork, in triplicate, for every sentient creature killed that did not directly pertain to our mission. We . . . ran afoul of some bandits and were forced to defend a town. 52 bandits, therefore, 156 papers for that. The other pages are my rather detailed field notes. My other companions were rather "Kill and drink the blood of our enemies" type people, so I didn't trust them to give a proper accounting."
To Olyssia: "Ben. Ben Goshy Hojoin. Fun? Oh, my no. I mean, I don't really think of myself as a combatant. I mean, I know how to fight, but only really in self defense. This was a special case though, bandits are somewhat . . . antithetical to the Master of the First Vault. I must say, before this adventure, I really dreaded combat, hated it really, but after fighting off bandits to defend a village attempting to do good with honest trade . . . I see it has its place."
|
|
"Meh" Olyssia dismissed the "Honest" trade idea. Continuing reading, she noticed the part where a horse was killed with a pen. "Oh wow. How'd you managed that... Anyway, I see villages as places one could "sleep" before continuing on. Of course you gotta defend where you might rest your body for the night. And for the bandits, you worked the villager's vengeance for them. So that is nice~" Olyssia thumbs through the bandit section quickly. "Though I think you didn't need to report Every single bandit, they're dead now right? Probably rotting in some mass grave a mile outside of that village now. Not much use except as worm food now."
|
|
"Hmm. Must've missed the class that said that one had to do that sort of paperwork. Or maybe I've just be regarded as irresponsible enough to not be entrusted with the task. Regardless, that seems rather excessive." Pan says, seemingly speaking his thoughts without much pause. "Eh, to each their own. If possible I prefer to talk my way through problems, there's a greater chance that with a peaceful resolution I- the Pathfinder Society can benefit."
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
A small gnome, carrying a shield emblazoned with the symbol of Sarenrae, stops to add to the conversation. "Don't underestimate the power of forgiveness, Master Hojoin!"
"However, if you wish to find Venture Captain Dreng, Miss Bloodrose has reminded me of a useful stratagem. Simply lay down your head, close your eyes and announce that you don't intend on putting your life in danger any more until the morrow. For myself, I have taken certain vows against speaking dishonestly, but the method has proven most effective in drawing the old fellow's attention on several occasions when I was legitimately tired and wished to sleep through the night.'
|
|
"Meh" Olyssia dismissed the "Honest" trade idea. Continuing reading, she noticed the part where a horse was killed with a pen. "Oh wow. How'd you managed that... Anyway, I see villages as places one could "sleep" before continuing on. Of course you gotta defend where you might rest your body for the night. And for the bandits, you worked the villager's vengeance for them. So that is nice~" Olyssia thumbs through the bandit section quickly. "Though I think you didn't need to report Every single bandit, they're dead now right? Probably rotting in some mass grave a mile outside of that village now. Not much use except as worm food now."
"A mass grave? Oh my no, I gave each one of them proper burial rights. Took us a few days in that town, though I did have some help from my comrades. No, I gave them proper rights for a bandit, which is to say I ushered them to their damnation until their souls could be redeemed by the master of the first vault.
"Ah, my fighting style. I've been told it is unusual." Ben pulls out a silver calligraphy brush from his robe. On close inspection it has a very sharp point on it's hilt, and appears to be made of mithral. In fact, it appears to be an Iron Brush made out of Mithral, not Iron."Lord Eckheart Henderthane gave me this as a going-away present as I left his employ. I just kind of . . . instinctavly reached for it. I can't fully explain it, but I feel some sort of connection with these brushes.
|
|
Turning to the Sarenite Gnome, Olyssia feigns surprise. "Oh wow, someone knows of me. Though I don't see why, when after my confirmation, I slept around on my off time. And you say Dreng appears when you are asleep!? I guess it is a good thing I don't sleep here."
The gnome seems apologetic, "Oh, no, Miss Bloodrose. It was certainly not my intent to make an issue of where and when you sleep. I'm not that sort of paladin at all, you see. It's hard enough keeping track of all the things I'm supposed to be doing, or not doing - I don't exactly share Master Hojoin's passion for due process, and filing forms in triplicate. I'm a simple fellow. I'd much rather be out in the field, keeping my fellow Pathfinders from dying. I'd go quite loopy if I tried to keep tabs on whether everyone else was living up to my vows, which they didn't even swear to uphold in the first place."
"What was I talking about again? Oh yes, you mentioned that you had never been awoken in the middle of the night by Drandle Dreng. And I said to myself - there's a lucky woman. I can think of at least three occasions where he showed up at some late hour to send me off to the Blakros Museum, or an equally dangerous location. I can't complain, though. Keeping my friends from dying is what I'm all about and if they choose to try to die at odd hours of the night then that's no excuse to go back on my word. Anyways, I started thinking maybe you could fool him, if you were good that that sort of trickery, into thinking that you were asleep, and he would show up to send you on a mission, and you could turn in your paperwork."
|
|
"To be honest, I think Mr. Dreng is avoiding me. See I originally signed up with the pathfinder society as a legal aide. But it was Mr. Dreng who misfiled my papers and placed me as a field agent. I've talked to him about it several times, and he's assured me that he will rectify the situation, but then I keep not hearing from him and being sent on missions.
"I used to be quite miffed at the whole thing, I mean, I'm a legal clerk. But they keep sending me on field missions as a 'cleric of Abadar.' I've TOLD them that I am no such thing, I am not fully accredited, but they keep not listening.
"Anyway, like I said, used to be miffed at the whole thing, but after this last mission I'm starting to see how I can do some real good out there.
"And as for the paperwork, it's not like I enjoy doing it. Well, not THIS paperwork at least. But that's what it said in the manual. If this is no longer the case, then it is Abadar's will the unjust rule should be changed. After all, unjust or defunct laws don't serve anyone."
|
|
"I have to say, if he found me as I slept, he'd find more than just me. Dreng probably would not be surprised by that though, considering that tieflings are sometimes born with, traits of both." Olyssia shrugs with one hand with the palm facing upward. "But going back to the paperwork, don't you just record the race and gender and of course what gear the guy had? If he was an enemy, I mean. And only the ones you fought, correct? Since we get paid from what we "recover" during our missions." She puts the paperwork back down onto the chair where she had taken them from earlier.
|
|
"I have to say, if he found me as I slept, he'd find more than just me. Dreng probably would not be surprised by that though, considering that tieflings are sometimes born with, traits of both." Olyssia shrugs with one hand with the palm facing upward. "But going back to the paperwork, don't you just record the race and gender and of course what gear the guy had? If he was an enemy, I mean. And only the ones you fought, correct? Since we get paid from what we "recover" during our missions." She puts the paperwork back down onto the chair where she had taken them from earlier.
"What? Oh my NO, no you must give them last rites! Don't you know about haunts? When people die in a particularly tragic or ghastly way, without their life-contracts being stamped by Abadar before being ushered to Pharasma's realm . . ."
"If, if people die in a particularly gruesome, undignified, or nasty way, and if their spirits are not attended to, they can come back to haunt the living. I didn't want them haunting that village they attacked, so I had to give each Bandit his last rites . . .and a mass grave CERTAINLY could have created a haunt, so I had to bury them separately. I mean, I'm not a fully accredited priest of Abadar, but I know the last rites ritual, and section 57 B of the Abadarian code says that in absence of a proper priest of Abadar, one of his faithful can fill in should the need arise. I mean, I had to go and do some paperwork at the temple here in Absolom afterwords to make sure it was all on the up and up, but that was easy enough."
|
|
Olyssia giggles at the sight of a flustered Abadarian. "Wow, that is something I haven't seen before! But anyway, there might be one flaw to that. What if they didn't worship Abadar." She gestures to Mr Hojoin's holy symbol. "Did you perform the correct last rites for them? And plus, they're BANDITS! They didn't give a rat's furry little rear end of Abadar. Plus you make it sound like it was a village far away from a civillized town. So maybe one of those priests of Erastil or something similar would have been preferred." She finishes with a shrug.
Olyssia purses her lips for a few seconds before continuing. "Well, then just burn the bodies if you are worried like that. The village won't take care of graves of people that wanted to harm them. Incinerate the bodies, do a single rite for all of them." She mumbles slightly. "Even though they don't even deserve that." She speaks up again. "That way, only ash remains, which I heard that such stuff is good for farming. So it is a win win.~"
|
|
Olyssia giggles at the sight of a flustered Abadarian. "Wow, that is something I haven't seen before! But anyway, there might be one flaw to that. What if they didn't worship Abadar." She gestures to Mr Hojoin's holy symbol. "Did you perform the correct last rites for them? And plus, they're BANDITS! They didn't give a rat's furry little rear end of Abadar. Plus you make it sound like it was a village far away from a civillized town. So maybe one of those priests of Erastil or something similar would have been preferred." She finishes with a shrug.
[dice=Kn Religion Take 10]10
Olyssia purses her lips for a few seconds before continuing. "Well, then just burn the bodies if you are worried like that. The village won't take care of graves of people that wanted to harm them. Incinerate the bodies, do a single rite for all of them." She mumbles slightly. "Even though they don't even deserve that." She speaks up again. "That way, only ash remains, which I heard that such stuff is good for farming. So it is a win win.~"
"Well, of course they didn't worship Abadar, they were BANDITS. Doesn't matter. Someone opened the way to them for the afterlife, even if that afterlife is eternal torment. As I understand, that's all they needed. Plus I was the only one there. Rural little village, no priests at all. Plus, I don't think ash is good for rice. I dunno, my brother was the one who took over the family farm.:
|
|
"Yes, well, I didn't do it for THEM, I did it because it was required by me. We all have things we are expected to do, otherwise society starts breaking down. And I THOUGHT one of the things required of me was to make an incident report, in triplicate, for every sentient creature killed not related to our mission. And I will be VERY cross if that was not the case, because then I would have wasted my time doing THIS" he says, pointing to his stack of papers"instead of something productive with my day.
Ben starts muttering to himself as he moves to pick up the stack of papers. "maybe I can leave these by his door . . . I don't think there's a rule against it . . .