The Searchers IC Thread

[TheYell]

OOC THREAD https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?640125-THE-SEARCHERS-OOC-Thread

RECRUITMENT THREAD https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?639425-CLOSED-TO-RECRUITMENT-THE-SEARCHERS-Players-Sought-for-High-Level-PF-1e-3-5-Game

You awaken from your afternoon nap to the sound of a mellow gong. You sit upright in a four-poster king-sized bed with black flannel sheets and a tiger skin coverlet. You recall that you are in Kanpur, the Summer Palace of the Nawab of Brazalam, as his private guest.

A valet in strawberry-and-plum livery knocks sharply, then enters the bedroom with an ewer of fresh spring water and a white ceramic bowl on a tray. “That was the gong for dinner, shall I assist you in getting dressed?”

Some minutes later you walk out of the guest mansion following a liveried page across a five-acre garden in twilight to the main banquet hall. Other figures follow you, and you assume they are also guests to this secret meeting.

The banquet hall ceiling is of carved walnut arabesques thirty feet above the forty-foot square hand-knotted colorful rug. Silken punkahs stir the air amid crystal chandeliers. The walls are hung with tapestries of hunting scenes. A ten-foot high baize screen in the west end is hung with silver service for fifty. A broad lacquered table stands full of covered trays and bottles and glasses. About twenty-four liveried servants stand by it, waiting to serve. The main dining table is low, with sky-blue silk cushions around it for seating. Your attention is drawn to the empty spaces at the heads of the table, where no cushions or place settings await.

A stout major domo in livery with jewels in his turban notices your gaze at the empty spaces. “Their Excellencies beg your pardon, but will not dine with us. They are…indisposed.” He spreads his hands sadly. “I am Khajir, and I ask you to enjoy the hospitality of House Tenerif in this difficult time. His Excellency will see you in the durbar after dinner. Her Excellency the Begum Nishae sees no one.”

With each course the liveried servants bring you a fresh plate and a crystal goblet of the appropriate wine. A menu card by your seat informs you the dinner is the creation of Carlos Vejar of a place called Las Vegas.

There is amuse Bouche of caprese salad on a crostini with champagne; a frieze salad with apple chips and dried cranberries and pomegranate seeds with citrus dressing, with chardonnay; lobster bisque with creme fresh finish, with sauvignon blanc; Obari sea bass over quinoa with chimichurri, with pinot grigio; roast duck over soba noodles and bok choy with oyster/black bean butter sauce, with cabernet sauvignon; roast butternut squash soup, with riesling; roast pork chops stuffed with caramelized apples dressed with caramelized onions and rosemary stuffing, with merlot; grilled Kobe ribeye and pomme puree and creamed spinach, with malbec; petite chocolate cake with fudge frosting and vanilla bean ice cream, with gewurztraminer.

Despite the excellent food and wines, dinner is somber and quiet. There is no music or dancing outside to entertain, and the clink of silverware on crockery is the loudest sound.

As the dessert is cleared away, the servants bring bulbous glasses of extra-old pear brandy, and offer corona Molthune cigars, a coconut narghile of apple-mint shisha, or a small bowl of mixed nuts. You stretch yourself on your silk cushion and survey the others at the table.

[Taelas]

Siobhan, reclining on her silken cushion, is lazily swirling a glass of pear brandy in one hand, and occasionally tossing nuts into the air to catch them in her mouth with the other. In between, she takes long draughts of a narghile, blowing out drawn-out plumes of white smoke.

She is incredibly beautiful, with perfect porcelain-white skin and long, silky red hair that cascades down her back. Her clothing is somewhat unorthodox, as she's wearing a man's noble outfit, though any with the requisite arcane knowledge, skill or ability could recognize it as an illusion; her actual clothing consists of a captain's large overcoat and tricorne hat, a tightly laced leather corset over a white silk blouse that only barely covers her modesty, and black leather pants with brown cuffed heeled boots. Leaning against the table near her is a cane, though this is also covered by an illusion, as it is actually a rather exquisite rapier. About the only thing of hers that is not covered by illusions is the pistol stuck behind her belt at her waist.

https://i.imgur.com/5ufGPgb.png

Sitting on the floor next to her is a capuchin monkey, who has a small pile of nuts in front of him that he is enjoying.

"Khajir, was it?" the pirate queen asks rhetorically, glancing over at the majordomo. "Excellent feast, do bring my compliments to my nephew." She returns her attention to the hookah.

[tonberryking]

Summoned to dinner, but remaining unseen by servant and honored guest alike, Cherry only makes her presence known when the food is brought out. Wearing her massive pink hair up in a tall tail at the top of her skull and wearing threadbare rags of a warrior pilgrim, there are--or at least she suspects there are-- gasps and shouts of alarm when she reveals herself by falling atop an empty seating cushion ready to eat, until the major domo sadly waves the worries off with a shake of his head. For better or worse the blue goblinoid was meant to be here. If anybody in the room enjoys the silent meal, it would be her, unto the point of excess. How she eats the amount she puts away is anybody's guess; in the end the only thing she turns away is the cigar, and to the relief of the servants she asks for water rather than alcohol to wash it all down.

"Mrrpghle. Y'know," she begins, grinning and rudely lying flat on her back on the cushion, staring up at the ceiling in her itus state, "It's always the meal BEFORE a quest that tastes the best. Don't know how or why that is, but it's sooooo true...." she prattles on, questioning the contents of the meal she engorged on, tracing in the air with one crooked finger, swaying her arm around lackadaisically, "Really, though, with the way they've fed us, you'd think we were waging a war... They certainly gave us enough food to feed an army."

[LairdMaon]

As the group takes their seats, a guard steps out from an alcove. It's faceplate flips from adamantine to mithril as it regards the meal served. It takes no more than a sample taste of each plate placed before it, just enough to show gratitude to it's patron and the chef. The remainder of the meal is proffered to the blue creature who appears to have swallowed a bag of holding at some point in her career.

Post-dinner, it finds a cushion in a place that allows him the best option for defending attendants in the room. As it seats itself the mithril becomes transparent glasssteel.

"Normally, by now knowledge of this quest would be mine." Clouds of shisha smoke can be seen moving within it's body, escaping from it's mouth as it speaks. "That I have not been informed yet is cause for concern."

[paradox26]

Bolt awakens in the luxury of an actual bed, unusual for a sailor, and even more unusual for a taninim. He rolls out of bed, wings tucked close against his body as he does so, to prevent them being hurt by the maneuver. He has no need to dress, as a dragon is always perfectly dressed for any occasion. So he rises and prepares to leave his room. Knowing that the meeting he is attending is meant to be secret, he shrinks down to a fine dimension, where he is barely bigger than a dragonfly, and which he intends to pass as to the casual viewer.

He follows the servant to the dining room, flitting about rapidly, as a dragonfly would. He enters the room, and takes a place on the table, beside his name place setting. He remains shrunken down to a tiny size, but his voice is as loud as it would normally be, or at least, it is when he raises his voice a bit. He acknowledges the Major Domo's greetings, but doesn't respond, as he is supposed to be fairly low ranked, in spite of his real power level and influence. The one time King of the Bitter Sea decides that he will remain as quiet as possible, at least until he better understands the situation.

As the banquet arrives, his little eyes go wide. It is a feast fit for a Maharajah or Sultan, and is far better than this sailor has eaten, even when he was a pirate lord. Of course, his food mostly comprises raw fish and people when he can catch them, though he does sometimes roast them with his flame breath first. So this is a magnificent repaste, by his, or indeed any, standards.

He starts to eat from the food on the plate before him, though the plate is bigger than he is. He feasts like no other. He has taken a vow of poverty, but that does not prevent him from eating well when the food is offered to him. He is forced to decline the cigars, though, as he breathes smoke naturally, and doesn't see the need for external sources of inhaled flames.

[Yas392]

Adonis wakes in his satyr-like form, a frown on his face, lips in constant twitches. He is in his true form; a satyr-like creature with leaves with simple clothing. The valets knocking causes him to shift into a human form of a middle age man complete with his expression unchanged. The arrival of the servant with cleaning tools and his notification makes him shake his head. He points towards a table.

"Leave it there and go."

He cleans and dresses himself the moment the servant exits. Arriving and seated at dinner time, he nods at the messenger that relays the status of royalty. He keeps to himself while he eats with proper table manners and others are talking. He shoos the servants away when they offer him cigars. The disguised fey takes out a lime-filled rolled paper. Using the candles as a lighter, he lights his cigarette. Then, he spends his time watching his crew chatter with the host and guests, blowing smoke into the air.

[Armonia13]

Argen stares at. the ceiling of his bedchamber. He didn't sleep, he never sleeps, thoughts of the Wellerman and his wife keep him up every night. Not that he's felt the lack of it for the last couple hundred years. When the Valet knocks on the door, the sallow dwarf immediately rises, fully dressed and ready to go. His clothes, old and worn from many years of use, straighten and clean themselves. A trick that barely takes a thought from him anymore.

Argen is brought to the banquet hall with the others. He eyes them as they walk through the gardens, making sure they're up to snuff. He knows none of them are the Wellerman, he isn't even on this plane at the moment, but his paranoia dictates he makes sure anyways. His eyes are especially drawn to the red haired wench. She seems familiar to him, did they sail together once? He grunts, banishing the thought from his mind. It doesn't matter, old mates or new, he'll take this request from the Nawab as a new chance to hunt his eternal foe.

When they arrive at the hall and Khajir announces that the royals aren't there, he scowls. He hates nothing more than to waste time on these frivolous formalities, but he knows better than rush when he hasn't even got a ship to helm yet. The feast, as rich and delectable as it may he for the others, tasted nothing but ash in Argen's mouth. He only forced down a single biteful of each dish to not be rude before sliding it to the brightly colored goblinoid, who seems to be part charybdis with how fast and how much she is devouring. Argen downs every wine presented with a similar vigor however, a poor habit from his heritage and a time when booze was once a joy and comfort. It goes down as easy as water, and affects him just as much sadly.

The quiet meal finally finishes, Argen accepts one of the cigars, lighting it with his thumb, another trick he picked up. He puffs several times as he looks over his compatriots one more time. What a strange a motley crew the Nawab has gathered. "I don't know what the Nawab has in mind for us, but the fact that I'm here means a ship is gonna need sailing. If anyone has an issue with me taking the helm, tell me now so we can resolve this quickly. I want there to be no confusion or arguments from any of us by the time we leave port."

[Taelas]

Siobhan glances at the dwarf with a raised brow, before sending another plume of smoke toward the ceiling, and sitting up a little straighter. "Relax, old timer," she tells him, barking a laugh. "As to who's at the helm of any ship we might set sail on, that'd be for the captain to decide, and as to who'd be captain, well, that'll be up to the Nawab, won't it?"

She relaxes. "We'll know soon enough what the plan is, so g'ahead and keep drowning yerself in wine," she adds, scornfully.

[TheYell]

Khajir the majordomo is drawn aside by a young liveried page who whispers in his ear. “His Excellency Jalaan Tenerif bids us attend him in the durbar,” says Khajir.

He leads you out of the banquet hall, down a flower-hung colonnade to a massive oval building of red sandstone. Torches light the twenty-foot-high basalt statues of the Nawab and his wife flanking the door. You enter a grandiose durbar with a massive mural of celestial beings fighting demons on the high ceiling. The floor is marble and jasper flagstones with a thick pile hand-knotted rug over it for comfort. Your attention is drawn, by the architecture and styling of the room, to the massive marble throne studded with precious stones and jewels. Here, surrounded by a small retinue on the main floor, sits the Nawab Jalaan Tenerif behind a row of House Guards in harlequin red-and-gold parade armor.

He looks awful. He is gaunt and his eyes are red with lack of sleep. His trimmed beard is streaked with long white hairs. A cup and saucer of cold black coffee are at his elbow. His robes are the finest but appear to have been worn for days. He rises and takes two steps down the raised dais to meet your approach.

“Thank you for coming,” he says in a tired voice. “Each of you are excellent in your own way, and have been sought out for your talents. We have need of them.

“Five days ago, while resting in their quarters, our four children were…abducted. Presumably by magic. Their whereabouts cannot be determined, not by the strongest superhuman magics available. We have divined hints that point to rakshasa cultists among the dreaded Lost Isles, beyond the Bitter Sea in the Obari Ocean to the southeast.

“The Lost Isles are an archipelago of islands, some say a thousand islands, given over to tribal savagery and some minor pirate kingdoms. There is no centralized government or culture among them. It is largely unexplored territory and there is not much I can tell you about it.”

“I give you the cream of my fleet, the ships Heavy Hand of the Nawab’s Justice, and Sarasrai’s Justiciar and Spirit of Brazalam, and the airship Banzai Jalaan. They are presently anchored at Jawanpur, an island base off the coast. I give you the isle of Jawanpur for your own uses. The Marquis of Jawanpur will take your orders. The airship will collect you here at dawn and take you to your vessels. From there you must do the best you can. I suggest you make contact with the natives of the outer islands and discern the location of the cultist’s home port. The outer islands are about a week’s sail from Jawanpur, so you may return as necessary. If you have a need for magic items, make them known to my quartermaster, and I will procure them at cost in the capital metropolis of Niswan.

“I propose my aunt, Siobhan, here among you now, to be Commodore of the flotilla on board the Heavy Hand. Argen Windwalker, I ask you to take command of the airship Banzai Jalaan. Other dispositions I will leave to the Commodore, after discussion.”

A disturbance behind the throne interrupts the Nawab. A barefoot matronly woman in a bathrobe shoves her way past the household servants. Her undyed graying hair is matted and tangled, her face is swollen with weeping. She runs to the foot of the dais.

“Nishae!” calls the Nawab, and he runs to grab her shoulders. “Beloved, it is not seemly—”

“Bring me my children!” croaks the weeping Begum Nishae at the gathered heroes. “Aline! Jokim! Yvonne! Little Tianna! Bring them home, I beg you!” She falls to her knees with her ringless fists clenched in supplication.

[LairdMaon]

Carver drops to a knee before the distraught Nishae, "Please, consider your children safe and returned already. The wisdom of the Nawab has assembled this group and we will not fail to bring them back. I pray you take comfort in that."

[Athaleon]

As Carver moved to comfort the distraught mother, a robed figure moved from beside the Nawab's throne to draw attention back from the "unseemly" proceedings.

He was tall, and thin beneath his flowing desert clothing, all in grey. His face was covered with a plain mask of smooth, matte-polished and unadorned steel carved into an abstract likeness of a young man's visage. Similarly crafted gauntlets covered his hands, the articulated joints extending to thornlike spikes. His voice was clear and strong, impeded only slightly by the mask. His accent was that of a well-educated Qadiran, whose tone and cadence carried quiet but firm authority—if not menace.

"We will get their children back," he echoed. "I am Majeed, one of the Nawab's servants and advisors. My lord has charged me with accompanying the expedition, as my talents may prove useful."

[tonberryking]

The blue gobliniod blows a kiss towards Argen for his generosity in sharing what was probably her second or third helping of dinner.

However, all the mirth and her lackadaisical air seems to evaporate, Cherry just giving her new employer the benefit of a poker face, until his wife (she assumes) enters. Biting her lower lip, she doesn't look away, but as the older woman is overcome with her grief, Cherry's limit breaks and in a warping flash she's by her side, gently trying to get her to stand. Propriety be damned, this is an overcome mother who wants her babies back.

"Oi... Ma'am... Save your strength for when we bring your kids back." she presses a (clean) handkerchief into her ringless hands with a wane smile, "This only feels like the end of the world; but their stories aren't over yet..."

If she's swatted away, or even attacked, so be it, but Cherry is resolute in offering the woman what comfort she can.


Cherry will also ask, once Nishae calms down, but mostly to her husband what the kids look like, anything personal about them the PCs should know like an anecdote, the name of a pet, etc. we can use to win their trust over.

[TheYell]

"Er, thank you," says the Nawab, as Begum Nishae rises and blows her nose. He turns to Majeed. "Majeed, have the albums and favorite toys brought out."

As Majeed relays the order to the servants behind the throne, Begum Nishae starts to object. "Beloved! They will aid in the return of our children!" says the Nawab. "We do not need to have memorial tokens of our living children who will yet stand before us. It is Jalaan of House Tenerif who promises this."

The servants bring out a silver album of birthday portraits of the four children, all slender and dark-eyed and serene, except that of four-year old Tianna who grins from her painted image. They also bring the children's favorite items, fourteen-year old Aline's silk folding fan, twelve-year old Jokim's stargazing telescope, nine-year old Yvonne's miniature china teaset, and Tianna's beloved stuffed Bear. "Cherish these for us, as our children cherished them," says the Nawab.

[Yas392]

Adonis nods at the declarations made. He looks at the royalties.

"I second their thoughts."

The disguised fey turns to those assembled, a twitch on his eyebrow.

"So are we all going to stand here looking good or are we getting the show on the road? Clock's ticking."

[paradox26]

Bolt is concerned at the possibly rash promises to return the children intact. It is possible that they could be already dead, or just unfindable. He would prefer not to raise the grieving and distraught parents' hopes more than they can already confirm the facts to be. "The good news is that the children are unlikely to already be dead, or there would be no point in removing them. So it is almost certain that they still live. And if they live, they can be found. I promise you that I will not give up the search until they are found, one way or the other. I hope that is sufficient for now."

He then considers the ships that were named. "I will travel with the Commodore. I prefer to remain aboard the flagship. While I can fly quickly, I probably cannot fly quickly enough to be able to keep up with the airship, which would otherwise be my preferred method of transport. I can provide a measure of scouting ability for the flagship if I stay aboard it, through both my magical arts as well as my ability to fly. So I will be able to get ahead of the ship to look for threats," he says.

[TheYell]

Begum Nishae frowns slightly at Bolt's words, but does not seem to have figured out their meaning. The Nawab is sharper, and he frowns and shakes his head quickly over her head where she can't see him.

Aloud to Adonis he says, "The airship Banzai Jalaan will arrive at dawn. It is difficult to land the airship at night. You can fly to the fleet at Jawanpur then. I appreciate your zeal and thank you."

[Athaleon]

"Should anyone wish to go to the fleet sooner, I can take you there momentarily. I can also bring you into the city, or elsewhere as needed, if you need to make other preparations before morning."


I haven't yet finalized Majeed's spellbook or chosen his daily prepared spells, but Greater Teleport will definitely be on it. He can prepare a spell into an open slot in one minute, or cast (regular, less-safe) Teleport spontaneously in place of a different prepared spell.

[Taelas]

Siobhan solemnly collects the childrens' items. She places them in her bag of holding, one at a time. "Don't worry, nephew," she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I will do my utmost to return your children to you."

She looks around at the rest of the group, then glances at Majeed as he offers to bring them to Jawanpur forthwith.

"Not a bad idea. Majeed, was it? I can teleport us as well," she says, nodding. "If I'm gonna be a Commodore, I guess I need ter take on a few respons'abilities."

Siobhan's also got greater teleport, and she's a sorcerer, so she can do it immediately.

[paradox26]

Bolt bows slightly at the frown he received. He understands that what he says is not guaranteed to raise the grieving couples' hopes, like the words of the others. But he feels the need for honesty. Although formerly a pirate, he has always been honest to a fault, and he will not break that drive, even if it can cause the parents to think the worst may in fact be possible. Which it easily could. Either way, he feels regret for the need to provide them with his honest assessment. They could get enough platitudes from his companions. He decides to remain silent on the matter before the parents for now at least. There would be little benefit in him driving the unspoken warning home.

"I am prepared to travel to the ship now. I have no possessions to carry with me, so there is little to be gained by me remaining here any longer than necessary. I would like to get to know the crew, to assess whether they will be suitable to our needs," he says. Leaving now might be welcomed by the Nawab, and he must at least display his enthusiasm for the task, in spite of his warning.

[TheYell]

The Nawab smiles slightly. "You sailors are an impatient lot, wed to your ships. So be it! Don't forget the letters patent giving you command over the vessels and Jawanpur! Fetch them out, Khajir."

The stout majordomo summons fleet pages to get the documents. A guard lieutenant at the main door bangs his halberd on the floor for attention. "My lord! Your cousin Iakub Tenerif and entourage claim admittance to durbar!"

The Nawab frowns again, tugging his beard absent-mindedly. "I did not send for that reprobate," he says.

The guard lieutenant calls, "He invokes kinship right my lord! We have them contained at the main gate! Shall we turn them away?"

"No," says the Nawab finally. "It must be suffered." He turns to his wife, hugs her gently. "This is an ugly business, beloved. You must not be present when he arrives." He watches her shuffle off to the rear of the room behind the throne, guided by a bevy of maids of honor.

"Commodore, you will not have seen our cousin Iakub Tenerif lately," says the Nawab slowly. "He has, until very recently, been contained a prisoner in his foothill estate. I sometimes think I was too generous with the terms of his confinement. He had many books....Anyhow despite his sinister religious proclivities it seemed harmless enough to release him to wander the world where he willed some five years ago. Still. If he has had any hand in this affair..."

The Letters Patent, sealed with many cords and dangling red wax medallions, are brought to Khajir, who hands the appropriate documents to the Commodore and Captain Argen Windwalker. "If you think you can accomplish anything with a few minutes inspection, then go," says the Nawab. "But hurry back! I want you present with me when Iakub springs his surprise. He should arrive within fifteen minutes or so. You should find the fleet on patrol on the far side of Jawanpur, guarding the Bitter Sea approaches."

[Armonia13]

"I have a feeling we aren't going to get along" Argen retorts plainly to the ginger haired vixen. But as she suggested, he downs another glass of tasteless wine. Just in time for Khajir to make his announcement.

Entering the great hall of the Nawab, Argen is taken by the beauty of the architecture. A small voice in the back of his head speaks, praying that he keeps his temper in check, as damaging such finery will be a certain shame. Once the group has approached Jalaan Tenerif, he kneels before him, resting his arm on one knee, as is proper in his mind.

"Your Lord, I humbly accept this duty you bestow. We shall do our best to find your children. The Banzai Jalaan shall be in good hands until then."

As the others speak, plan, and comfort, the gaunt dwarf approaches the gaunt man who is the Nawab. "My Lord....if I may. I'm a rather cautious dwarf. Do you expect trouble from this cousin of yours?


With permission, Argen is going to cast a Mantle on the Nawab, just in case. It will last for 20 hours, or 200 minutes if he wants me to cast it on anyone else(up to 10 additional people) and do nothing until Argen conjures some Weather.
Argen will explain that his magic is pretty encompassing, so if there's going to be trouble, he would rather make sure Jalaan has some cover from it.
Costs 1 or 2 SP

[TheYell]

Khajir the Majordomo says, "It is the pride of this House that no defensive magics are needed in durbar!"

But the Nawab says, "I think...this time I will accept your gift, Captain. My cousin Iakub is both a sorcerer of skill and a learned wizard, and I don't trust his intentions here. It is far too coincidental that he should arrive while you all are here..."

[Athaleon]

Majeed looked about as uncomfortable as a masked man could when the Nawab mentioned the generous terms of Iakub's confinement. He recovered quickly though, and spoke up again with an edge of urgency in his businesslike tone.

"I had believed a surprise inspection of the fleet by its new officers was in order, but it can certainly wait until this... business is taken care of."

[LairdMaon]

The Warforged says not a single word, but his concern and intent are clear as his bright glasssteel components become dull adamantine. He moves to a position giving home the capability to reach out to wherever Iakub stands.


Carver is now holding his action, saving it to strike Iakub or his entourage the moment they attempt anything harmful to anyone in the room.

[TheYell]

The Nawab watches the Warforged take station amid a display of empty suits of armor along the wall, unnoticeable as it holds rigid position with the other constructs. "I would parley with this Iakub," he says. "Do not strike him without my order, please."

[Yas392]

Past (In response to Majeeb's post of offering to transport the group to the fleet.)

Adonis nods at Nawab's compliment. He huffs at Nawab's servant.

"Not yet. Gotta prep. There is something you can help me with. You can direct me to where I can find herbs, get us copies of the children's portraits and install a device on Banzai Jalaan that can extract water from natural source such as the Plane of Water. Ignore the last one if it is impossible to do."

Now

The disguised fey groans.

"Looks like we have trouble. Let's get this over with so that we can get prep done before we go."

Adonis looks for a cover to hide, drops his disguise and draws his bow/quivers.

Stealth (Take 20) - 50

[TheYell]

The Nawab pretends not to notice the fey hiding behind the raised dais to the throne, and, noticing his refusal to stare, the retinue follows suit. The archer peeks out from cover to gaze at the durbar hall which has no cover from his arrows.

Speaking to the air in front of him, the Nawab says, "Fresh herbs or dried herbs? I have dried herbs a plenty in the kitchen and our arcane library will have a collection. There will be fresh herbs all through the jungle isles of the Lost Islands. If you require fresh herbs to order, a selection can be brought to Jawanpur in a matter of days.

"If you can make use of seawater no device should be needed, though a refit can be discussed at Jawanpur by the fleet artisans in the dockyards. I suggest you discuss it with Captain Windwalker," he adds with a smile.

[Taelas]

Siobhan's eyes narrow at the new development. "Iakub, huh?" she mutters, as she accepts the papers the majordomo gives her and absent-mindedly stuffs them into her bag of holding.

"If he's causin' trouble, we'll put him in his place," she says, her tone reassuring. "So just in case..."

The red-haired pirate captain waits until there's about five minutes till Iakub's estimated arrival, then starts casting spells, which those with the requisite knowledge can recognize as beneficial spells. She goes around amongst the others, touching them after each casting, explaining the spells as all-around beneficial. The first round of spells turns the party invisible.

Siobhan casts, in order,
invisibility, targeting herself, Adonis, Bolt, Carver, Cherry, Argen and Majeed, (7 times total) (15 minutes duration)
true seeing, targeting herself, (15 minutes duration)
greater heroism, targeting herself, Adonis, Bolt, Carver, Cherry, Argen and Majeed, (7 times total) (15 minutes duration)
Then she waits until Iakub is almost there, and casts two final spells:
globe of invulnerability (using a 7th-level slot), standing immediately next to the Nawab, so encompassing him within its area of effect, (15 rounds)
and haste, targeting up to 15 (including the party) (15 rounds duration).

[KraHa_n]

From among the servants, a small youth would follow suit as they would bring forth the favorite articles of the children. A female human, 133cm in height as well as of slender frame bearing pale skin, long black hair which falls to her knees, and eyes not unlike amethysts in color. A small pair of ram-like horns and vibrant flowers rest atop her head. She is dressed rather modestly in a rather heavy winter coat & boots, with a black silk dress underneath. An ornate mask partially obscures her mouth. In her hands she bears a rather large book and pen.

She'd patiently wait for the these guests to complete their exchange of words, questions, and assurances to the head of the house before finally approaching the company with a slight lifting of the hems in a curtsy of greeting-

"It is a pleasure to make all of your acquaintance, this one is a simple aide versed in law, finances, & hospitality. Under the instruction and request of our esteemed Contractor, one is to be of service to the assembled company."

She'd speak somewhat softly, in a rather stiff manner as if one was unfamiliar with the tongue. Shortly after her own introduction the youth would raise her head once more to look up to them, presenting each and every one of them a somewhat childishly made 'necklace' consisting of rather simple threads bearing an engraved, dark colored ring and varieties of stuffed plush animals.

"While we are under the employ of our Contractor, please accept these personal tokens of cooperation and insurance. One's Babushka says that those who one finds close to her will share in one's good health and fortune, please do feel free to pick whichever you like."

With every individual that happens to accept, she would promptly write and draw upon a page in her books & papers.

Any whom willingly accept the token will effectively be subject to a 'Shield Other'-like effect throughout the day as long as they remain within 'close' range, which is roughly eighteen meters or sixty feet.
With how things have seem to have been quickly escalating with those ready to depart at this very moment, or even overtly preparing for combat with the casting of spells & drawing of weapons- for the time being the little one would meekly return to be among the servants by the Nawab's side.

[Yas392]

He turns his head to Nawab when he addresses him and nods.

"Fresh herbs. If your excellency or your servant can direct me to any hotspots here where I can find possible herbs before we depart, that will contribute to the rescue mission. I can find the herbs in any environment. The device is for the sake of convenience and if there are no sea water or rain. I will see what I can hash out when I talk to your recommendation. As for the copy portraits, a quick sketches suffice. It is overkill. But if each group have copies, they can be backup in case we lose the originals."

Adonis accepts the token from the girl with the horns then continues his vigilance at the doors.

[TheYell]

The Nawab nods approvingly at the young female as she distributes necklaces. Aloud he says, "There are foothills near the palace with primeval forest where you could search for herbs. If the Commodore is agreeable, the airship can be held here while you scour those areas for your supplies. I will have servants guide you to them once this interview with my wayward cousin is concluded."

[TheYell]

Khajir brings out a second silver album of birthday portraits of the children. "For the airship crew", he says.

[Yas392]

Adonis nods as he accepts them on behalf of his crew, stowing the album in his haversack.

[TheYell]

Drumrolls and fanfares from outside herald the arrival of the entourage claiming kinship right to access. The outer doors are flung open and the visitors enter.

To most, it appears to be a collection of barefoot monks in the robes of various pious orders, surrounding a stout young man with an oiled black beard.

You see the central figure is a jackal-headed rakshasa, surrounded by a bear-headed orsatka rakshasa in a red robe, an orsatka rakshasa in a blue robe, a feminine tataka rakshasa in a green robe, a tataka rakshasa in a gold robe, a viper-armed marai rakshasa in a brown robe, a marai rakshasa in a black robe, a magma dragon, and an iron golem.

[paradox26]

Bolt maintains his tiny size, so he is unable to accept the necklace at the moment, though he vows to do so as soon as his size allows for it. He flits upwards to the roof, and settles upon a roof beam. This will allow him to keep an eye on what is going on below him, while also allowing him to hide from view. He studies the room carefully, trying to work out just how large he would be able to grow without damaging the chamber, in case he needs to do so. It is possible that this cousin may prove harmless, but the Nawab must have a better idea of his cousin's intentions than the collection of strangers in the room, so he assumes there will be trouble.

He maintains his peace for now, not casting any defensive spells, as was requested within the chamber. He prepares his powers to be cast the moment that the Nawab is either in danger, or signals that all is not right and that combat is necessary.

[TheYell]

The young stout man with the oily beard rudely speaks first. "Condolences, Great Lord! Condolences to our House!"

The Nawab controls his temper at this impertinence. "Words are widespread, cousin, if you have heard any cause for condolences to our House."

"Widely enough," laughs the young man. "You look unwell, Great Lord. Pardon a family member noticing."

"Whereas you look the same cousin," says the Nawab.

"I am mostly well, Great Lord," laughs the young man.

"I mean, you look exactly as you did twenty years ago when I banished you, cousin," says the Nawab sharply. "Do not toy with me, Iakub! I was extremely patient with you, but my tolerance has limits, even for blood relations."

The young man grins. With a shimmer like a summer mirage, the illusion fades. The young man is revealed to be a jackal-headed rakshasa, surrounded by a bear-headed orsatka rakshasa in a red robe, an orsatka rakshasa in a blue robe, a feminine tataka rakshasa in a green robe, a tataka rakshasa in a gold robe, a viper-armed marai rakshasa in a brown robe, a marai rakshasa in a black robe, a magma dragon, and an iron golem.

"HOLD!" shouts the Nawab, as the court balks at the horrors confronting them. "I would parley with this miscreant!"

"Prudence itself, Great Lord," says the jackal-headed rakshasa. "Know that despite your insolent punishment, I have ascended beyond humanity. I stand with my brethren to collect your largesse and bear it across the seas to serve the great Kankarna Immortal and his loyal servants."

Blood darkens the face of the Nawab, and a trickle of bile runs down one corner of his mouth. Yet he controls himself enough to say, "Name your ransom, child-thief."

The rakshasas all laugh. "Oh not ransom!" says the jackal-headed leader. "Ransom means return of the captives, and your children are lost to you forever. But we thought, you might want to contribute to their upkeep while they're away?"

The Nawab snaps. "KILL these malefactors!"he howls, stamping his foot.

[Armonia13]

Argen doesn't even wait for the Nawab. As soon as the jackal Iakub speaks of the Kankarna Immortal, the old man screams. "THE WELLERMAN! YOU KNOW OF HIM! TELL ME WHERE HE IS THIS INSTANT!" The Invisibility cast on Argen drops as his eyes crackle with electricity and fury. The ring on his left hand glows brightly. In an instant, the room bursts into chaos as a powerful storm suddenly wreaks its havoc. Winds whip wildly. Rain crashes down in sheets, boiling hot. Thunder cracks aboves.

Despite the insanity, Argen, the Nawab, and every member of the party find themselves completely dry and undisturbed, as if the room was still in total order. Argen steps forward, directly in front of Jalaan. "THE WELLERMAN SHALL PAY FOR HIS CRIMES, AND SO SHALL YOU!"


Standard Action to Create Weather: Severity 7 Wind/Heat/Precipitation.
Every round, everyone not under a Mantle of Clear Skies takes 40 Fire damage.
Every round, I can choose 1 target to be hit by Lightning(80 Electric damage, DC 29 Reflex for half
The Nawab and the party are all under my Mantle, which gives them +30 to all movement speeds, +3 to ranged attacks, a 130ft Fly speed if they don't already have one, and treat all weather effects as if they were (at most) Severity 2
Move Action to be 10ft in front of the Nawab if I wasn't already.
SP Cost: 2
Remaining SP: 45/49

Almost forgot. I need the Rakshasha, the Magma Dragon, and the Iron Golem and anyone else in the room without my Mantle to make a DC 15 Str check or be knocked over by the strong winds
They all take an additional 18 Fire each round from the Heat itself as well.

[TheYell]

Chaos! The courtly retinue and guards and majordomo run screaming from the room, fleeing behind the throne to the hallways to the Residency.

The entourage of villains wails as scalding hot rain and furious wind sweeps over them, knocking all but the Iron Golem and Magma Dragon prone on the floor.

The Magma Dragon says "Really?" in Draconic. He gazes directly at Bolt. "'Must thou slay me, brother?'" he says, quoting an ancient Draconic text, that means, between dragons, he is ready to parley for quarter.

Iakub spits "You want the Wellerman? Seek him in Hell!"

[LairdMaon]

As the word "Hell" leaves Iakub's mouth, a cannonball on a chain slams into his face. Four more strikes follow the first in rapid succession as Carver's adamantine form becomes visible.


First Strike [roll0]
First Damage [roll1]

Sneak Attack Damage [roll2]

Second Strike [roll3]
Second Damage [roll4]

Third Strike [roll5]
Third Damage [roll6]

Fourth Strike [roll7]
Fourth Damage [roll8]

Haste Strike [roll9]
Haste Damage [roll10]

[TheYell]

Iakub's headless corpse slaps the floor, as the other rakshasa turn in shock to stare at Carver standing along the wall.

"We're surrounded!" one of them screams.

"How do we teleport out of here now?" asks another.

"Seriously," says the Magma Dragon to Bolt. "I was sold on a monkey-chomping expedition by these mudblooded rascals, and this ain't it. I suppose I should offer you a duel to the death blahblahblah, but I'm just not feeling it. If you'll keep the monkeys and their clockwork exterminator off my back, I'll yield to you."

The Iron Golem lurches around to face Carver. "all inferior creatures are the enemies of the Golem and must be exterminated" it says breathily, in a cloud of gas vapor.

[LairdMaon]

"It would appear that your reasoning has flaws, Golem. The being who employed you was clearly inferior." Carver stands to it's full height, "Or do you mean to challenge me for superiority. Assuming you prevail, you'll find it a costly victory."

[Athaleon]

Majeed had done a lot of pre-buffing, noted in his character sheet, but it looks like it might have been overkill. Overchanneling some of them dealt him [roll0] damage, which went to his Delayed Damage Pool, and he will have manifested Vigor with enough augmentation to cancel out the incoming damage.


The moment the attack began, Majeed flew over the fiendish entourage and swept a blast of roiling energies across them like a gout of whirling golden sand. Despite the chaotic roiling of the energy, he took care to keep it away from his allies - and from Iakub. "Do not destroy the traitor's body!" he warned his companions.

With arcane words and sharp gestures of his gauntleted hands, the masked mage conjured a salvo of tightly-bound rays of similar golden dust at the serpent-armed Rakshasas.

He landed with inhuman speed behind the Iron Golem and attacked with an inhumanly fast flurry of blows. He punched with his spiked gauntlets, struck with knees and elbows and with spikes cleverly hidden on the armor of his forearms, and even headbutted the construct with his steel mask.


Swift Action: Switch back to God of the Hourglass Stance.

Move Action: Move as described OOC, flying beside and above the Rakshasas such that he can catch B, C, D, and E in a cone attack without hitting friendlies, Iakub's dead body, or the Magma Dragon that's trying to surrender.

Standard Action [via Schism]: Initiate Wrath of Time (Strike), hitting those enemies for [roll1] damage; targets who fail their saves (Fort DC 28) take double damage.

Standard Action: Cast Disintegrate (Twinned, Split Ray, Empowered, Persistent) using a 7th level spell slot, targeting Rakshasas F and G. Fort DC 30, targets must roll the save twice and pass both times. What the heck, he'll use Great Power, Greater Expense from Pact Wizard to roll twice on his Caster Level checks. Reading the feats, I believe one attack roll and caster level check applies to each of the Twin spells, but each of the Split Rays gets a separate saving throw.

versus F: [roll2] vs Touch AC; best of [roll3] or [roll4] vs Spell Resistance
[roll5] damage or [roll6] (if saves passed)
[roll7] or [roll8]

versus G: [roll9] vs Touch AC; best of [roll10] or [roll11] vs Spell Resistance
[roll12] or [roll13]
[roll14] or [roll15]

Move Action [via God of the Hourglass Stance]: Move around to behind the Iron Golem.

Free Action: Expend one Psionic Focus to initiate maneuver Beat the Clock as a Free Action for an additional Standard Action.

Standard Action [via Beat the Clock]: Initiate Primal Frenzy (Strike). Attack Iron Golem with all wielded + natural weapons (gained via Metamorphosis).

Left Gauntlet: [roll16] to hit, [roll17] + [roll18] Piercing
Right Gauntlet: [roll19] to hit, [roll20] + [roll21] Piercing
Armor Spikes: [roll22] to hit, [roll23] + [roll24] Piercing
Bladed Mask (counts-as Barbazu Beard): [roll25] to hit, [roll26] + [roll27] Slashing (provokes an attack of opportunity)
Slam: [roll28] to hit, [roll29] + [roll30] Bludgeoning
Slam: [roll31] to hit, [roll32] + [roll33] Bludgeoning
Slam: [roll34] to hit, [roll35] + [roll36] Bludgeoning

[TheYell]

The orsatka and tataka rakshasas writhe in pain under the effect of Majeed's attack; one of them doubles over.

The two marai rakshasa start to yell "Nnnnnn---" before they are vaporized into clouds of fine dust.

The Iron Golem is battered and dented but still mobile, saved only by the supreme hardness of its material shell. "Ow" it breathes. "Rope a dope, rope a dope, rope a dope".

The Magma Dragon calls out in Draconic, "You know I'm from the Lost Isles? I could tell you about it."

[Yas392]

Adonis follows Majeed's lead after his eyes trails at his action that exclude the dragon from behind the throne. He peppers a Rakshasa with arrow.

Full-attack vs the standing Rakshasa (flatfooted). Switching to target to Golem if he has remaining attacks and one of his attacks kills the demon.

Attack 1: [roll0]
Attack 2: [roll1]
Attack 3: [roll2]

Damage 1: [roll3]
Damage 2: [roll4]
Damage 3: [roll5]

Attacks bypasses alignment based, cold, silver, Adamantine DR. Attacks has Ghost Touch property (full damage to incorporeal). If any attacks hit, suppresses invisibility and concealment effects.

[TheYell]

The orsatka rakasha in the red robe slumps to the floor, a neat row of three arrows lodged between its veterbrae.

The three remaining rakshasa begin chanting a somber death anthem:


Vanguard of the damned, with banners unfurled,
Begin our fell march, to conquer this world.
Undying, unholy, sans temple or fane,
We spring back from death, to master this Plane.

The Magma Dragon begins thrashing its tail. "You know I'm not supposed to go back to the Lost Isles, tribal thingy, but if you offer protection I could go with you and help scout around? Would that be okay? Hello? Brother?"

The Iron Golem lets the scalding rain heal some of its damage. "Aahhh" it breathes.

[paradox26]

Bolt maintains his position atop the roof beam. He yells down at his companions, "Do not harm the dragon. He will not harm you if you leave him in peace. He was brought here under false pretenses and could prove a friend." He then yells to the dragon in Draconic, "Do not attack my friends and you will not be harmed, and do not attack the Nawab or his allies either."

He then breathes pure force at the iron golem, the blast intended to destroy the creature quickly and without danger to himself.


Force Blast against Iron Golem. [roll0] Force damage, plus save vs Reflex or be knocked prone, DC 28.

[KraHa_n]

The Little One would watch as the Contractor's relative would be allowed into the structure. An expression of childish wonder and fascination would be worn by her upon the sight of the two larger members of the visiting company, the metal construct and the dragonkin. She would begin to rummage about her bag and papers as the parties conversed. This would be shortlived as it faded when the exchange between the Contractor and the 'malefactors' soured. Forced greetings met with provocation, insincere pleasantries, boasts, eventually leading to outright hostility.

Escalating rather quickly, with both the Contractor ordering the deaths of the visitors and the ire of the dwarf conjuring a massive storm- the little one would be showered upon and utterly drenched by the boiling rain with steam emanating with every drop. Not too long after she would stumble from the force of the winds, falling to the ground without any sign of resistance. She'd watch as the company would rather swiftly begin to dispatch the vast majority of the creatures in just mere moments. At the sight of the room being filled with corpses and dust, she'd avert her gaze and cover her head with the sleeves of her winter coat. From the youth's bag a quantity of gazes from what appears to be tiny-sized plush animals would slightly spill and peek out, all bearing a rather eerie look of life and hunger.

A Greater Summon Cacodaemon effect, lacking any components(Verbal, Somatic, Et Cetera).

[roll0]

Each shall immediately begin Soul Lock before falling lifeless. The process will begin once again and repeat the following turn if available and inadequate in quantity to account for all of the deceased hostile visitors.
Each plush doll would seemingly inhale, dropping a gem inside of the bag, before quickly falling into a lifeless state- lacking any of the signs regarding the brief moments of life it previously had. Though it would not be long before an entirely different set of stuffed creatures would begin to manifest a similar appearance as their own gazes peer out from the same bag.

[TheYell]

"Thanks bro!" calls the Magma Dragon. He curls up like a cat and goes to sleep.

"Owww" says the Iron Golem, as the force beam spaaaangs off the back of his head, making a dent. He falls to the floor.

The Nawab sees the little one hit by boiling rain and steps forward to drag her to the throne. "Call off your storm, Captain! You reckless dwarf! You're doing more damage now than helping!"

At the sight of the little one's cacodemons, the surviving three rakshasa raise howls of rage. "She dares disrupt the cycle of rebirth! KILL HER!" shrieks one of the tataka rakshasas.

[TheYell]

The Magma Dragon opens a glowing eye. "What's that? You won't reincarnate?" It opens both eyes and glares at the rakshasas. "You don't even understand Draconic. Sickening mudblooded reprobates, no culture and you stuck me in this hideous place to die at the hands of monkeys. Eat flame." He breathes a cone of fire at the three rakshasa.

10d6(33)

The three rakshasa dance as their robes ignite.

[Taelas]

Siobhan returns to visibility as she casts feeblemind at the rakshasha wearing green.

"Less cryptic nonsense out of you, please," she says after finishing the spell.

[TheYell]

The green-robed tataka rakshasa slowly climbs to her feet, joined by her two rakshasa companions. "Now see how trueborn immortals can die," she says, and stands back to back with her companions in horse stance, in a triangle, silently waiting for your next assault.

The Iron Golem watches them refuse to charge, in disbelief. "you are cowards," he breathes. "aaaaaaaaaaa" and he charges the huge Warforged in front of him.

1d20+28(40)
damage 2d10+16(25)
2nd 1d20+28(34)
damage 2d10+16(28)

[LairdMaon]

Carver hardly flinches as the Iron Golem lands both strikes on it's chest. With deliberate motions, it draws the chain-flail in and twirls it before slamming it into the hulking construct.


Strike [roll0]
Damage [roll1]


Almost as an aside, it calls over it's shoulder, "Give me room. And stay out from under my feet."

[TheYell]

The Iron Golem crumples like a beer can under the blow, its head knocked down into its hips.

"Nwwaa...nnww" says the green-robed rakshasa. A bead of drool runs down her face as the feeblemind spell kicks into full effect. The other two rakshasas grab her elbows and start moving towards the durbar door.

[Athaleon]

Majeed straightened and took up a zen-like stance, almost meditative but for its brevity. With almost languid motions compared to his mad flurry a moment ago, he turned and directed another cyclone of golden sand at the fleeing Rakshasas.


Recover all maneuvers as a Full Round Action via Defensive Focus, and a Psionic Focus via Hypercognitive Focus.

Move as necessary to avoid friendly fire, using God of the Hourglass Stance's extra action.

Standard Action (via Schism) blast the fleeing Rakshasas with Wrath of Time again.

Edit: Typo in roll tags, will roll damage in OOC.

[TheYell]

"Stretcher party!" shouts one of the rakshasa. "Cease firrrraaarrgghh" he growls as the stream of dust hits them. They collapse into the steaming pool of rainwater. A gust of wind blows a squall of steaming fog over the three, and when it passes, they are lying face down in the hot water, unmoving.

The 40 heat damage from the rain finished them off, Argen gets the final kill!

The Nawab surveys the ruin of his fine durbar, the shattered mosaic overhead, the flooded and torn carpet, the cracked flagstones where the golem fell. "Guess we'll be using the winter durbar for a bit," he muses. He turns to Argen Windwalker. "Mind if I be in charge for a while?"

[LairdMaon]

Carver immediately stands down, the chain-flail flickering out of existence once more. He turns to face the Nawab and drops to a knee.

[Athaleon]

Majeed flew back and cut into the conversation with urgency. "My Lord, I can revive your former kinsman for interrogation, even with... such damage done to him. But it must be done quickly or the chance will be lost."

[TheYell]

"Do so, if he can be contained," says the Nawab."It would be well to question him."

[Athaleon]

With a nod of his masked visage, Majeed set to work dragging the barely-recognizable pieces of the already-transformed Iakub to a nearby corner, one with solid stone walls, then set to work. "Any who wish to be present for the interrogation, come to this corner please. My Lord, for your safety I must advise that you remain outside the barrier."


- He will first cast Wall of Force, angled to enclose the corner completely (unlike 5e, Pathfinder Wall of Force must be a single plane.)
- Dimensional Anchor works on objects, so Majeed will cast it on the body before reviving.
- Manifest Psionic Revivify, augmented to work on outsiders. Iakub revives with 1 negative level, +2 per round since his death. As such, Majeed may even take his time before this step.
- Activate Reveal Weakness Void School Power
- Use Infernal Healing on Iakub so he regains consciousness.
- Cast Mind Probe for mental interrogation.

[KraHa_n]

As fast as the conflict had started, it had ended. When matters had calmed and the chaos had begun to settle, the Little One would peer out and uncover her self to see the rather destructive aftermath of the rather one-sided bullying. She would slowly rise upon her feet and attempt to brush and dry herself off the best she is able, as the room had only been just recently full of steam, water, wind, and fine dust.

From within the bag, the new set of plush dolls would animate replacing the previous lifeless ones.

[roll0]

Since the Nawab's kin is needed for interrogation, no further soul-eating plush dolls are required beyond a minimum roll for a total of seven for the purposes of Soul Lock.
The stuffed creatures would once more peek out from the youth's bag before they would seemingly inhale, then dropping gems inside their dwelling. Not a moment later did they then fall lifeless as if they were without life.

She would attempt to make herself as presentable as well as any mundane person could in the given circumstances before giving a slight bow to the Contractor before asking-

"Would it be fine if this one had permission to tend to the other bodies while everyone handles the serious matter of family?"

[TheYell]

"That should be acceptable," says the Nawab, glancing at the Magma Dragon. "Er...are we sure that its safe?"

[Armonia13]

As quickly as the storm appeared, it suddenly vanishes,. Taking a deep breath, Argen looks around at the carnage before him. "Erhm........forgive my Lord. I lost my head a little there. I'll of course work off the damages...." Argen sighs slightly. He doesn't know which to be more surprised by, his new allies being so strong or these worthless cultists being so weak. He begins walking down towards the corner Majeed is preparing, intent on participating in the interrogation.

When the Little One presents herself, Argen notices how drenched and disheveled she is. Turning a slight shade of red, the weather wizard turns to the Fey and bows his head. "My apologies young Lady, I did not mean to overlook you in my casting. If I may assist you...."

If given permission, Argen uses his Cantrips to clean off and dry the Little One. If she is hurt, Argen will also cast Revitalize, giving her Fast Healing 3
He'll continue to cast Cantrips afterward to begin drying and straightening out everything in the room

As Argen moves by the Magma Dragon, he looks at the mighty beast, his gaze cold and slightly dead inside. "I understand you surrendered to Bolt and are willing to guide us in the Lost Isles. Tell me, you know nothing of the Wellerman?" The old dwarf asks in Draconic, quite fluently in fact.

[TheYell]

The Nawab nods coldly at Argen, then says lightly "Oh, the damages are nothing. It is more important to maintain discipline in the house. But I think you understand that." He slides onto his throne and rings a little golden bell, summoning the retinue back to the durbar.

The Magma Dragon stops in the act of plugging its ears to monkey-chatter, and stares at Argen in surprise. "A civilized person," he mutters in Draconic. "Well I am considered a very young and brash dragon, I am in exile in fact til I mature better, so they told me, but I know OF the head of the cult of the Undying Damned, though I have never seen him myself. His lair lies well to the southeast of the Isles of Dragons. If you're willing to protect me we can venture to the Isles of Dragons and ask one of the Elders."

[Armonia13]

A little life comes to Argen's eyes at hearing the Dragon's words. "You have my word. Guide us faithfully and my storm will shield you." His face turns grim for a moment. "I don't believe I need to say what will happen if someone stands between me and the Wellerman." Smiling kindly now, Argen nods his head and offers his hand. "Welcome to the crew, I am Argen Windwalker. If I may have your name, or at least what you would prefer I call you.. My Lord Jalaan, you may rest at ease. Assuming Sioban and Bolt are permitting, I shall take responsibility for this one right here."

[TheYell]

Khajir leads a cautious retinue entering the ruined durbar. "My lord, you live? And you conquered all?"

"Of course," says the Nawab. "Where's my fresh coffee? I expect this house run properly regardless of dragon attack. Speaking of which, that dragon is a guest, fetch him some sheep. And get the maids going on those puddles! I don't care about domestic matters, as a rule, but it's well for you the Begum Nishae isn't here to object. Now leave me alone to focus on my guests."

"My name is Goran," says the magma dragon, "and some mutton would be nice."

[KraHa_n]

Without resistance the Little One would accept the offer of assistance from Argen. With a brief moment of self-inspection, she would note that she was unharmed, satisfied with the restoration of her state of dress-

"Thank you very much Mister Windwalker, one supposes one should try to be more careful when being near the casting of magic. One apologizes for being in the way and will leave you all to your important work. Perhaps we will all have a chance to work together in a less 'lively' activity. It really does help one feel mostly safe with how many really strong staff are working under our Contractor."

With a slight bow of her head, the small youth would turn to go wander toward the remaining corpses of the deceased which had not been turned into a fine dust. Taking a bit of time she would rummage through her bag to produce smaller pouches. Before anything, she would do the best of her ability to remove any dangerous objects from their persons, seizing their forfeited assets as penalty(if any), and collecting whatever taxes in the form of valuable articles they may have had on their persons in order to set them aside. The Little One would do her best to neatly organize and sort whatever was retrieved for the rest of the company to inspect after they had completed their 'bullying for information and directions'.

In time after the more work related tasks had been completed, she would retrieve her small pouches in order to begin producing and applying quantities of soft powders upon each of the corpses. Every single one of the corpses would begin to shrink, contort, and even change composition to resemble that of what seems to be a 'cute' tiny-sized plush doll, not unlike the stuffed toys she had peering out from her bag. The new visages of the plush dolls all were strikingly reminiscent of how they had originally appeared before their lease on life was terminated by the company. After collecting the plush dolls, the Little One in particular took a liking to the now plush 'iron golem' as she would carry it about while putting away the rest along with the pouches back into her bag.

Promptly afterwards she would report the findings and that the bodies were properly 'cleaned' & 'disposed of'.

[LairdMaon]

Carver keeps an eye on the young one, waiting until she seems to be done. When she looks available, he approaches, "Young One, you offered trinkets earlier. To encourage our well-being. I would accept one were they still readily given."

[paradox26]

Bolt descends from the ceiling height, and lands in front of Goran. "Greetings, my new old friend. I am known to these ones as Bolt. I think we could use your contacts among our kind. And you would be very useful in that, as I am not considered a true dragon by some of our kin, being a mere taninim. Ignore my current size, I am normally a little bigger than this, and can grow larger still, nearly to the size of a great wyrm. Do you have some means of transforming into humanoid form, so you will better fit in with our humanoid crew on board our ships?" he asks.

[Yas392]

Adonis studies the dragon after drinking from a vial he collected with water from a nearby natural source.

Using the Gifts from the Sea feat to turn the water into a Tears to Wine potion and drink it (+10 enchantment bonus to all WIS and INT based skill checks)

Sense Motive to see if his words is truthful and lack ulterior motives: [roll0](Accounting the +4 morale bonus from Greater Heroism)

[TheYell]

Goran says, "Transformation? That would be useful, but I don't know any tricks like that I'm afraid. I could sit on the deck of a big ship I think."

Reviewing the ultimate truth of his words, Adonis realizes they are largely correct for a scared young-adult dragon. Goran is the equivalent of a eighteen-year-old human. He genuinely wants to help for the ulterior motive of not being killed outright by the party.

[TheYell]

"Ow such a headache," mutters Iakub. "Haha! Success! I recover from death!" He opens his eyes. "Aw, crap!"

[Yas392]

Adonis places two fingers to the side of his temple and looks at the magma dragon.

You passed. Welcome to the crew.

Using telepathy to speak to Goran.

[Athaleon]

Majeed's masked figure loomed over the revived Iakub. "Where are the children?" his question was nearly bellowed out loud, though the true interrogation was purely mental. He had taken precautions, nevertheless he wanted to ensure Iakub was cowed into submission, hence the posturing.


Using Mind Probe (https://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/m/mind-probe/) as mentioned above. His first question really is, "Where are the children?"

He will attempt an Intimidate for good measure. [roll0]

[Kaouse]

In the corner of the room, was a worn and tattered meditation mat, out of place amidst all of the finery of the well-furnished abode. And on that meditation mat, lay a shirtless man with blue skin sitting in a cross-legged position, hands together with open upwards-facing palms that met at the thumb. Cradled in the man's lap, was a gun of almost otherworldly shape and design. The man lay silent, unresponsive to the world.

To those more mystically inclined, an aura of Ki surrounded the man. This aura varied over time. It would start as green flames surrounding the man's entire body, before being gathered into a sphere within the man's palms. From the sphere, would erupt the shape of an Eastern Dragon. The Dragon would perform a most tumultuous dance around his body. Was it protecting him? Or was it circling it's prey? None could be certain of that answer. As the dragon circled, green symbols and writings tattooed upon the man's blue skin would glow and shift in position. The dragon would finish it's dance above his body, erupting back into flames that surrounded his body.

Over and over this cycle would continue, and each time, the Dragon's dance became faster, writhing and undulating in a macabre formation before bursting into ever more radiant green flames. This continued, over and over until, at the very same moment where the Dragon would explode, a bolt of lighting from a summoned storm would hit the ground with a deafening roar.

The man's eyes shot open, immediately. Taking inventory of the situation and noticing the aftermath of an attack, the man opens his mouth to speak.

"...Damn," Ryoku sighs, craning his neck to the side "What did I miss?"

[paradox26]

Bolt looks up at the massively larger dragon that is their subject, and says, "As long as you stay out of the way and don't eat any of the crew, I am sure they will accept your presence among them. I am going on the flagship, so if you accompany me I am sure there will be the most room for you. I must ask, will you fight if we enter combat with another ship or monster, or will you stay on the ship? I am not bothered either way, but it is good to know what to expect in advance of combat starting," he says to the larger dragon.

[TheYell]

"Ah, Learned One, you awaken," says the Nawab, salaaming reverentially to Ryoku. "Join Commodore Siobhan and her strike force. You missed a small fracas."

Iakub writhes under the Mind Probe and the fierce gaze Majeed seems to burn into his brain. With a last gasp of resistance, he calls out, "Cousin...it is not fit...for royalty...to be so abused..."

The Nawab stares at him fixedly, drumming his fingertips on his throne.

"Gaaahhhhh," gasps Iakub, and falls back against the floor. Images flood into Majeed's brain.

"The hall of the Wellerman...great danger there...I don't know the island...only teleport there...from that place...among the stars and planes...the children were bartered for services...to various Powers that wanted...human royalty...I don't know where...I was not informed...I wanted to know but was not considered important enough...I should have been told...i am important...I am Iakub Tenerif....true heir to the throne...i should have been told...I...am not the Great Commissar of the Undying Damned...he knows...but will not tell me....I should be Great Commissar too...I am important...I am Iakub Tenerif...I am...I...I..."

[TheYell]

"I shall do as you instruct, Brother," says Goran to Bolt.

[KraHa_n]

Being addressed by the towering construct, the Little One would turn to face and quite literally look up to.. him? Her? It? The small youth wasn't quite certain. Upon the inquiry she would gently put down the iron golem before rummaging about through the container.

"Yes, of course."

Briefly after she would produce the tokens, the childlishly-made necklaces once more for those who had not had the opportunity to accept or decline them prior to the rather 'lively' exchanges. Upon completion she would make a rather feeble attempt to struggle and place it upon the neck of the construct, even standing upon the tips of her boots. To nobody's surprise the small youth was unable to properly reach the requisite height as it currently stood. During her attempts she would bear witness to the damage sustained by the construct seemingly repair itself slowly. Just to make certain she'd inquire-

"Will it really go away, will everything be alright?"

If and when the Little One was able to succeed, she would proceed to offer the tokens once more to the others as well.

[LairdMaon]

Carver seats itself on it's knees to help the Little One.

"Child, I will be fine shortly. I have been active for far too long for some simple dents to leave lasting damage."

It reverts it's body to glasssteel once more, this time choosing transparent rainbow hues for everywhere not damaged. The damaged areas are left completely uncolored and transparent. "If you'd like, you may watch the repairs take place."

[TheYell]

The Nawab sighs. "So that is why they could not be scryed. They are not on this plane! Alas! Alas for House Tenerif!"

He slumps on his throne, for a few seconds, then recovers his erect bearing. "Still, thanks are due you for saving my life, and for undertaking this doomed quest at all. We release you from your pledge. Go, bearing our largesse. Khajir! Bring forth the Great Scales! Our benefactors shall have their weight in platinum coins."

[Taelas]

Siobhan shakes her head. "Even if this is true, nephew, all we have to do is learn to whom your children were taken. If this bootstain cannot tell us, we'll find someone who can. Perhaps this Wellerman?" She glances at Argen inquisitively, an eyebrow raised.

She turns back to and looks resolutely at the Nawab. "There'll be no talk of this quest being doomed before we've even started. Once we learn what planes they were taken to, we can go there ourselves, and then divination magic will work again. I will locate them myself."

[KraHa_n]

The attention of the Little One would rather quickly return to the construct as she would wear a rather fascinated expression in her eyes. The changing of material of its body, how the area of their damaged body would visibly reconstruct itself filled the child's eyes with wonder, and curiosity.

"Do all constructs learn to do those things when they get older? The other one you were fighting didn't seem to do anything like that so it must have been really young. It seemed to not move or do anything at all after it was on the floor. How do you get your hand to shoot out like it did earlier? Are you a special kind of golem? What is your name? "

She'd inquire as her stare was fixated heavily on the process of such. The small child's curious inquiries would cease and have to wait as the Nawab began to address the company. Upon the declaration, she would give but a slight bow of her head in return-

"This one will abstain from your kind reward, Lord Contractor. She has yet to adequately perform much of any services as of yet and it is in her, among others, best interest if she does not set foot upon that scale. 'F.F.F. Services' intends to fulfill the original order, desires, and wishes of yours as well as making sure 'debts' are to be paid back in full and collected."

A bit of a glance would be directed toward the Niwab's kin, though she'd try her best to ignore the rather painful sounding torture and interrogation before inquiring-

"What will happen to the cousin now that he has done such terrible things and is not helpful anymore?"

[LairdMaon]

"Age, child, has nothing to do with the abilities of constructs. The Golem took little pride in itself and chose not to bother growing beyond it's most basic self. On the other hand, I have put much effort into self-care. I became a Templar to become a better me."

The chain-flail reappears in it's hands, the chain in one hand and the large sphere in the other. "That was not my fist you saw shooting out, but my soul in the shape of a weapon. As part of my training I have learnt how to fight with every aspect of myself to give myself the best advantages I have access to."

[Athaleon]

"I need details, Iakub. Describe the island. Describe the plane. To the best of your ability." Majeed considered giving Iakub a moment to compose himself and get a clearer answer—or at least some passing details from which he could work out the truth—but decided it better to keep badgering rather than give the snake a moment to think of a stunt to pull.

[TheYell]

"The island...has a starfish shape...deep in the Lost Isles...with the Hall of the Wellerman on a ridge...I know...there is a portal to the First World there..." Iakub says in an exhausted voice.

Majeed gets images of the island from the perspective of standing at the Hall of the Wellerman looking out over the seas.

[Athaleon]

"The First World? What part have the Fey in all this? And who is this 'Great Commissar' and what is his role, that you covet so dearly?" Majeed was full of questions and planned to get all the answers he could. Iakub's co-conspirators hadn't told him much—Majeed wouldn't have trusted him either, the deluded wretch—but just what he'd seen by happenstance was proving to be vital information.

[TheYell]

"The Great Commissar...is no fey...why would we follow a fey? He is rakshasa...head of those who have ascended from mortality...to cyclical rebirth..." breathes Iakub heavily.

Majeed sees an image of a deer-headed male in rich red silk robe embossed with gold embroidery.

[Yas392]

Adonis glares at Iakub as soon as the Rakshasa utters "portal to the First World."

"Then why is there a portal to the home of the feys?! Talk!"

[TheYell]

"Many places...many powers...Kankarna Immortal is in league with them...high politics....I should have been told...there are higher orders of being...than mortals....I am ascended...and Kankarna is...more than mortal...and owes nothing...to any deity...power...we share in it...and grow...you seek the children..but will find them... separated...sleep now ..let me sleep"

[paradox26]

Bolt says to his new draconic comrade, "That would be for the best. Always try to remain as non-threatening to the two-legs as you can, lest they band together to detroy you. But if you must be fearsome, then be truly terrifying. But that will not be called for upon this mission. Tell me, how much do you know of the islands of the Bitter Sea? It seems we shall have to travel among them, and although I was a sailor, I only really know the inhabited islands, as that is where the people and trade are," he asks.

[Yas392]

Adonis shakes his head.

"We are either dealing with a demigod or deity. Just great!"

[Athaleon]

"Or just someone far more powerful than Iakub here. Most of us seem to qualify."

Majeed didn't take his eyes off his prisoner, but he waved the Little One over. "You can sleep when I am satisfied that you have told all. Do you have any other information that will help us find the children?"

[KraHa_n]

"Soul..? A weapon?"

The Little One would wear an expression of mild confusion, as if taking a few moments to register and comprehend the concept. She'd make some slight gestures, pointing toward individuals such as Argen & Majeed before inquiring-

"Like magic?"

Before she could fully complete her thoughts and inquiries she would take note of being beckoned over by the interrogation group. She would give a slight bow of her head to the towering construct before heeding the call, leaving the rest of the company to receive their reward from the Nawab. The youth would collect her things before wandering on over to the walls where the process was taking place.

"How may this one be of service?"

The Little One would actively make an attempt to avert her gaze from the rather 'not pleasant' sight of the Nawab's kin, as she made her offer.

[Athaleon]

Majeed sent a mental message to the Little One when she came over. ++Please ensure Iakub won't reincarnate when the interrogation's done.++

[TheYell]

Goran says between bites of mutton, "Well closest to you are the goblin-infested islands. At least I think they're goblins, so crunchy and swift to hide. It's mostly fly-over country to me I'm afraid, I tend to prefer a nice flight over the ocean between the islands most of the time."

[TheYell]

Iakub writhes in psychic torment, gripped by the spell's power. "I know...dealings with Hell....and with the Astral Plane...do not ask me too much...HE will know...and will punish me..."

[Armonia13]

With Goran content taking orders from the little dragon and the interrogation of Iakub seeming to go well, Argen takes out his flask and takes a swig. Despite the weary look, a small smile creeps on the corner of his lips. This quest is already proving the best lead to the Wellerman in a long time. As he casually listens to the forced confessions, he quietly speaks to the exhausted Nawab. "My Lord, perhaps it's best to wait on the platinum. With this solid lead and allies who can teleport us, I feel we should leave and prepare the ships as soon as possible. As one who has been searching for beast for so long, I can say with certainty the longer we wait, the colder the lead goes.."

When the foolish rakshasa mentions how he will be punished, Argen immediately walks over, a steaming shard of ice appearing in his hand. "He'll punish you? HA! You're speaking as if that bastard will have the chance to." Argen gets as close to Iakun as Majeed will allow, a dark glint in his eyes.

[Yas392]

"I will leave the punishment to the ones exacting justice. Can't be bothered wasting time. While the ships are on their way, I might as well prepare for the journey."

Adonis gives Nawab a slight bow before taking his leave for herb-hunting.

Herb Finding results: [roll0]

[KraHa_n]

The Little One would go through her belongings to pull forth another pouch as well as a motionless plush doll upon such a request, holding them at the ready in her arms. With a slight and brief tilt of her head, gesturing toward the general direction of subject-

"Are you sure? It would mean that they would need to be in a situation where they would need to."

Though taking into consideration of the implications Mister Majeed & Mister Windwalker were making, the kin of the Nawab's fate had already been decided most likely. The formerly motionless plush doll would begin to twitch ever so slightly, with a faint sign of life gleaming from what is likely supposed to be its eyes. It would turn its head slightly to look upon and watch the proceedings while the Little One would not, waiting in hungering anticipation for all to be concluded.

[Athaleon]

"The call is not mine to make, but my liege has made it already. I would not have counseled against it either—it will be safer for all involved, I think." Majeed's eyes narrowed behind his mask as he considered Iakub's last statement.


Sense Motive: [roll0]

If Majeed believes Iakub is telling the truth...

"I believe the value of extracting any further details now will be outweighed by the loss of surprise. Therefore, unless there are any objections, I recommend we end this interrogation."

[TheYell]

Majeed senses that Iakub Tenerif has been implanted with the sincere belief that Kankarna will know if he is interrogated on some secret matters. He further suspects there are other implanted reactions and attitudes, though what exactly they are is not revealed.

The Nawab orders Adonis guided to the foothills for his herbs, with attendants ready to guide him back when the airship arrives. He glances at his cousin with cool anger. "He's already dead, let him continue in that state if it suits you."

[Athaleon]

Majeed turned back to Iakub and extended his palm towards the jackal-headed wretch before him. The golden motes swirled about once more.


Using Wrath of Time Strike to remove Iakub, just taking the pause to give anyone else time to intervene if they would like.