Pathfinder 1E [IC] - TIDERULER OF MARAN

[Archon Basileus]

@Trogdor1992 @Neurotic @Jago @KahlessNestor

MORGRYM/VA'ARAHKIR

“Nowhere for now…” – the lizard grunts as he gulps a generous piece of meat. “In a few hours, we’ll know. We received a message to come up here. Good coin in it. Good food, also. Plus, spirits say it is a fateful meeting. Like our troop and you two.” – he shakes down a mug upon his wide open jaws, licking the rest of the contents.

“Now, we are to see what job is this. Probably takes us by the mountain. Maybe you’ll want to come with us, Morgryn of Gozreh… That is, if old spirit Gozreh agrees” – he signals with his forehead, as if paying respect to your god. Clearly he considers Gozreh to be another spirit along what might be a long chain of entities worshiped by his tribes.

“As for Va’Arahkir…. You too should stay with us! You’ve been blessed by the winds with a fast hand, and should do good alongside our soldiers! You have a place among us, and gold will run free as soon as we finish this job! What say you?” – the kobold can recognize in the gestures and head movements a great amount of satisfaction and respect for both newcomers. Morgrym, on the other hand, only sees these complements as clumsy attempts to please, mixed with a strange reptilian excitement, almost as a crocodile rolling in shallow waters.

REYNARD/MARIUS

Marius’ gestures aren’t read by the thieves or the players, except for the coin that shocks itself against his target’s leg. Suddenly, the victim looks down and the robbers are caught unaware, the ruse exposed with no one any wiser about the monk’s involvement. They look at each other, and the thieves begin to excuse themselves, trying to disguise their actions as they slowly walk away. Exchanged looks and fear of security and guards seem to cool down a possible debate between robbers and victims, leaving the rogues unimpeded to leave the area, straight towards the exit.

As Marius takes a second coin, his gestures are slower than usual. Durkas doesn’t seem to notice, though, his manners becoming more and more nervous. Sweat begins to concentrate slowly on his forehead, making it shine a bit as he tries to hide from the attention of both his colleagues, with poor results.

Reynard begins to understand. The dwarf is probably working for the rogues. Maybe for the guard. Maybe both. He is an informant, for sure, and his task was to get info from Reynard, and possibly from Marius. Reynard now asks himself if Durkas knows anything about the invitation to come to the burg, as well as the promise of a job well paid. He remembers being instructed to answer a certain question in a certain way, in order to identify himself. Durkas might be the one they’d send, but so far the question had not come. Considering the need for secrecy, the dwarf might as well be a spy for an opposing contractor, trying to uncover some clue.

Having received the very same instructions, Marius begins to consider the same. Whatever the objectives of his presence here, they surely demand secrecy and care, qualities that would make any piece of info worth a good amount of coins.

[The question is “are you ready to place your bets at the dinner hall? And the answer should be ‘I feel uneasy and would rather go to my room’.Also, I'll use purple to highlight speech in my posts from now on, ok? I hope it helps visualize dialog a bit!]

 

[Trogdor1992]

"Perhaps joining up with you for now could be to my benefit. I could always use gold and my blades always hunger for battle." the Kobold says, a toothy grin on his face.

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[KahlessNestor]

Maran/Helen’s Fortune
Evening

Morgrym took another bite of his mutton leg as Shagru spoke. “F-Fateful?” he asked suspiciously. These lizards were a superstitious lot. He might want to find a way back home without them, though it was safer to travel in groups. He glanced at the little kobold next to him. Normally they were annoying nuisances. This one seemed different. Though that wouldn’t stop Morgrym from bashing the critter’s skull in with his cudgel if it annoyed him too much. He was just a kobold, after all.

Morgrym noticed some little commotion down below. Some dwarven ne’er-do-wells seemed to be making a hasty exit. He turned back to Shagru.

“N-Not sure if Gozreh had much t-t-to do w-with me meetin’ yeh,” he said. “I n-n-needed t’ bring doon the wool t’ market.”

 

[Archon Basileus]

[MENTION=6801450]Trogdor1992[/MENTION] [MENTION=6801311]KahlessNestor[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855130]Jago[/MENTION] [MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION]

[You all have a +1 bonus in all actions, since you are rested and well fed. I’m fast forwarding this scene so we can reach the story, now that we are all here! So from now on we’ll be officially playing! The intro follows. Please take a good look and, by the end, you'll be at the first interaction scene. From now on, I'll wait for everyone to post so, please, keep your pace, ok?]

REYNARD/MARIUS/MORGRYM/VA'ARAHKIR

From then on, memories of that night become somewhat blurry. It all happened really fast. Soon enough, Reynard and Marius are intercepted by an attendant. The marked question is asked and, as soon as they answer properly, they’re subtly guided towards the back rooms. The same happens to Shagru, but instead of following alone, he invites his two companions to follow along with him.

The group was conducted to a tower, where they met their would-be employer, Grontar Ironsight. The old dwarf debriefed them on their mission: to find the Tideruler, an artifact that could control the waves and launch a final attack against the Old King’s armada. He handled a dagger to the group, a key of sorts, as he said. Nonetheless, before he could end his explanations, the place was attacked. The only window leading to the room they occupied shattered in pieces as a winged creature, resembling a dragon or a demon, fell furiously over Grontar. At the same time, the door exploded, and several lizards invaded the room. All the group can remember is that Shagru jumped ahead, paralyzing the first invader as Grontar pointed to a herald in a wall.
Behind it, a concealed door could be opened. As Grontar fought, he cried to the group: “Take the dagger and go north through the dungeons! Find Adalous! He’ll lead you to the right place!”

The group quickly crossed the passage, just before it closed once more. Bestial claws could be heard scratching the stone door that led to the passage as cries of war were left behind.

Now there was only one way out….

***

A long set of spiraled stairs descended into the earth. It’s hard to say how far you have gone. The chamber placed right after the tower had in its walls a set of four torches, but down below the only way to see is either with darkvision or by carrying a source of light.

The set of stairs ends up in a large hall. Stones are of a clean cut, covering walls, floor and roof. The damp air falls heavily upon your lungs, and feels familiar to the dwarf and the kobold, but impacts on the other two companions.

The room has a tall roof. Clearly it was not designed to house dwarven remains. It can be crossed in a few seconds, and each of its walls has a way out: one for the stairs (the place where you have come from) and three others, leading into darkness. All of the passages are open and unblocked, no doors or bars.

This hall also holds a huge assortment of weapons and shields gathered against its walls. Some of them look old and rusty, while others have apparently been placed here recently. Boxes are also placed against the closest wall, as if to be easily accessed through the stairs you just climbed down. Behind this collection of things, all around the room, several inscriptions seem to adorn the walls, worn out through time. It looks like the dwarves decided to use an old catacomb of some forgotten nation to hide their illegal goods.

Despite all this, what really jumps to attention in here is a single, strange feature placed at the center of the room. Right there, the floor is covered with a large stone plaque, instead of the usual stone blocks from the rest of the hall. The plaque seems to be covered in strange sculpted patterns, as if it sealed a tomb beneath itself. The patterns resemble those from the walls, but closer inspection might tell you more.

[Ok, you’re all up! Let’s begin old school, if you guys don’t mind! Please notice that I can change anything if you guys want to build a different game. Also, I’m gonna take a few posts to discover what you guys really like to play. So I’ll try to get better as we go. Please let me know if things are to your liking or not, and I’ll be glad to fix them!]

 

[Jago]

~ The air did no good for his lungs, and Reynard sputtered at the moist taste on the vapors. Or was it the overwhelming stench of that Dwarf, dear Gods did he need a dip in the sea! The sailor quickly pulled his flask from his belt and drew on it to wet the tongue with something more pleasant, wiping his mouth and then reaching into his pack.

" What foul luck this is!" he decried the situation while taking a knee, digging through his belongings, " What in the name of all the Gods was that!? Years along the salty waves and I've seen terrors of the deep and creatures that could still a man's heart, but that ... that thing was straight out of the depths of all the Hells."

With a sound of satisfaction, Reynard finally procured what he was looking for: a small, metal-looking bar of simple make. Closing up his backpack and slinging it back over his shoulders, the gunslinger grasped the rod tightly and gave a sharp rap against the stone wall with it. In a flash, light blossomed from the device, shedding the area in the sun and banishing the dark back. With curiosity, Reynard stepped forward, brandishing the sunrod in his left hand while drawing the flintlock firearm with his right. He made sure that powder was in the pan and that the lock was at the ready position; all it would need was a small flick to set it back to Primed, and then the pull of the trigger would call forth thunder and lightning.

" Let's see that mess we've gotten ourselves into ..."

Reynard first moved to the glint of metal that the sunrod revealed. Swords, shields, and more. An entire smuggling operation of Gods knew what.

" May be valuable things in these," he noted, tapping the rod against the crates by the stairs. For now, he ignored the weapons, waving the light over the walls to see the inscriptions next, giving them a brief view.

" Something is written here. Not sure what. If any of you have a talent for tongues, it may be of more interest.

What Reynard did pay the most attention to was the plaque and its whorls and cuts of stone. For this he bent down, using the light source to illuminate where his eyes roamed over the piece.

" Curious ... the inscriptions here are like those on the wall," he noted, brushing his hand against the patterns and tracing them with his fingers.

" I spent some time in Maran before. Maybe ... hm."

Reynard trailed off, his mind setting to work to try and decipher what this plaque and its intricate carvings could mean. The sunrod, though, blanketed the area in its brilliance, leaving all revealed for the rest. ~

[sblock=Perception Check on the Plaque][TABLE="class: results, width: 1"]
[TR]
[TD]1d20+9: 13 [1d20=4]

[/TD]
[/TR]
[/TABLE]
[/sblock]

 

[Trogdor1992]

Va'arahkir nods and inspects the crates, looking for anything of use.

OOC: Perception: _: 1D20+10 = [20]+10 = 30 Nat 20!

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[Neurotic]

Marius looks over the room and walks the perimeter before approaching bright light. He preferred shadows and not this bright illumination, but it definitely helps with reading. While walking around he things back on all things draconic and demonic, trying to identify the creature above.


Perception on the plaque; Perception (room in general): 1D20+10 = [6]+10 = 16
1D20+10 = [10]+10 = 20 - looking for secret or hidden things and trying to check the plaque after that

Knowledge (arcana) for the creature that attacked us: 1D20+5 = [8]+5 = 13
Knowledge (planes) for the creature that attacked us: 1D20+2 = [13]+2 = 15

OOC: As I said, my next rolls will be bad since my first were crits

 

[KahlessNestor]

Maran/Helen’s Fortune/Cellars
Night

Morgrym was a bit bored, so he followed Shagru to his meeting out of curiosity. Some guy wanted them to find a mythical artifact from a bunch of fairy stories. Yeah, good luck with that. Unfortunately, it seemed there might be something to the old myths as they were attacked, some kind of creature shattering the window and attacking the dwarf that had hired them, lizardfolk breaking in to try and steal the dagger key they had been given.

They escaped through a hidden door and followed it down the long, winding passage to below the tower. Three other open passages led out. It appeared to be some kind of armory and storage space. Worn inscriptions were on the walls and a large stone plaque with another inscription was set in the floor.

As the humans looked at the plaque and the kobold went poking in the crates, Morgrym studied the weapons. He belched.

“Well, this is a f-foine p-p-pickle I’m in,” he muttered.

Perception: 1D20+10 = [13]+10 = 23

 

[Archon Basileus]

@Neurotic @KahlessNestor @Jago [MENTION=6801450]Trogdor1992[/MENTION]

The sudden explosion of light from the sunrod made the room and its’ contents far more discernible. Darkness rescinds and for a moment comfort sits in, only to be taken away as the carvings on the walls become clearer. The ominous aspect of the tall room makes them feel as trespassers, and the general abandon of the stockpiles does not help. It seems that the place receives a lot of traffic, sure enough, but no one would remain down here for long. Probably it’s the best place to hoard weapons and war supplies precisely because there is no reason to come down here.

REYNARD

As the pistolero approaches the plaque, he notices plenty of candle marks all around it. They are not placed in any particular ritual patterns. On the contrary, their disposition seems to have served as a mean to illuminate the writings. Someone surely took its’ time trying to read the inscriptions.

Leaving such concerns aside, Reynard focuses on the writings themselves. The plaque is quite big – it could house a 6’ body easily, with lots of space to spare. The arabesques drawn all around the stone are quite familiar, reminding him of those framing a herald for a guild in Maran. Still, these seem to be far older, dating from the days before the foundation of the city. As for what is written within the arabesque frame, Reynard has some difficulty trying to uncover it at first, but slowly he begins to shape some answers in his mind. The language is an archaic form of the common tongue. Back in Laholt he received instruction on such matters, even though only scholars would use such precious writing any more. Whatever he learned, though, proves to be enough for him to discern the main message contained in the plaque, convoluted as it may seem. It reads something like this:

“Herein lies the last of the Willing, life and strength of Cartagula. His name forgotten, as Fate determines, his purpose remains, preserved for nights of stars unlit. When this seal is broken, once again he’ll rise to separate the unmoving gates of dead Cartagula”. Whatever remains of the message is too obscure or too destroyed to be read.

VA’ARAHKIR

There are plenty of crates, some half covered by cloth, others merged together by ropes. The reptilian employs his light feet and fast moves, sliding into the maze of wooden boxes and barrels, smell and touch being his guides as much as vision. He’s quick to realize that most of the crates house basic supplies, from campaign tents to blankets, from ropes to torches. Some even preserve sailor’s biscuits and rum, and it’s quite surprising that no pests have tried to attack the food reserves. Among the crates he finds a pair of sturdy boxes, each marked with a special rune, painted in red as if in a hurry and concealed underneath a heavy skin. Pulling the covers and opening the boxes, he discovers two sets of fifteen potions, all carefully accommodated in padded individual cases. The first box holds a variety of colored liquids, so far unidentified to him. Each bottle seems to have the equivalent of two, maybe three doses of each concoction – assuming they should be drunk, that is. The other box holds fifteen identical round ceramic flasks, closed by cork leads and padded with unusual zeal, almost as if easily breakable.

MARIUS

The monk glances at the plaque, extracting from it rough and vague parts of the message Reynard obtained. What concerns him, though, is that, among the arabesques, a set of four circular symbols, almost as mandalas, are placed at the four corners of the stone. In draconic, these are quite recognizable, since the language hasn’t changed much as time passed. Each of them stands for a way or purpose, the four of them being Virtue, Survival, Desire and Ascension. Some of these principles have been discussed to exhaustion by his order, almost to the point he might recognize all variations of their representing mandalas. And, as all mandalas, they assume no particular position, what makes it impossible to know which of them comes first to the sculptor of the stone, if any.

His search for any secret paths has not led to any particular success, with a notable exception: he realizes that the plaque, as well as several frames on the walls, are hollow. The wall frames hold the same shape as the one in the central plaque. Even though they’re a bit smaller, it would still be enough for a human body to fit inside. It becomes obvious that the place was conceived as a mortuary chamber.

As for the beast that attacked them, all the effort he delivers into remembering any useful information turns out to be vain. More than this, his memories struggle to emerge into his thoughts. The very image of the thing loses itself as soon as conjured into his mind, the tension of the moment reaching an unnatural intensity. Something linked to that creature instils some primordial fear as he tries to remember its’ visage, a sentiment not at all common in the monk’s behavior.

MORGRYM

The dwarf drags his steps around the piles of weapons found around. At first glance, all gear seems quite regular and in dire need of a sand polishing – and then again, some pieces might disappear if brushed with sand, so rusty they are.

Nevertheless, closer inspection reveals some interesting treasures among the rotten pieces. Clearly, the rusty ones were used to hide the good weapons, placed carefully down and back. As he scavenges through the piles, he finds several fine samples of maranan craftsmanship, among them two battleaxes, a long sword, two crafted clubs and a pair of metal knuckles, as well as three shields, all masterpieces. Arrows of the same quality can be found in two full quivers, laying down near the boxes. But the most intriguing artifacts found within the improvised armory are a pair of finely decorated pistols hanging from a wall in leather holsters. Morgrym can’t vouch for the thing’s qualities, but they surely look expansive.

 

[Trogdor1992]

The Kobold's eyes light up at the potions, he gathers them up for now, and walks over to the pistolero to say "Have ya found anything? I found some potions or something, but I'm not yet sure of their effect."

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