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haldir

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Welcome to Pathfinder's new adventure Path, Council of Thieves, Bastards of Erebus BY Sean K Reynolds & others. This adventure will replace the last Pathfinder adventure I had going on here for the last couple of years or so. At this time I want to thank the people that played in that adventure. I had a great time GMing that one & about the only regret I have, I wish I could have kept the adventure going more for everyone.

 

This game will use Paizo Publishing's Pathfinder RPG ruleset.

 

As quoted from Paizo's catalog page:

 

"The city of Westcrown is dying. Since being stripped of its station as the capital of Cheliax, the wealth and prestige of the city has gradually slipped away, leaving the desperate people to fend for themselves in a city beset by criminals, a corrupt nobility, and a shadowy curse. Can the PCs fight back against champions of both the law and the criminal world?"

GM:

 

haldir (myself)

Players:

 

Vil-Hatarn Invilareth Quaressithal (Vil), male half-elf Ranger

Orcsoul Xaven Silvergleaming, male half-elf Monk

Wanderingchild Pierpont Pierpont, Female gnome alchemist

Qwyksilver Cyril Corbett di Sarini, male human Rogue

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The day is like any other day in mid-summer in Westcrown. It's hot & it's muggy. The skies are grey due to a recent thunderstorm had rolled in off the coast, which just adds to the humidity & misery.

 

Westcrown

 

Some how & in some way, you've all been "screwed over" by the ruling government in Westcrown. Whether it's by taxes, or other monetary reasons. It might be a simple run-in with the local law enforcement, even thou you were innocent, or not. You all have this hatred of the governement & would like to see some changes, but you just don't know, how you could go about doing so, without getting yourself locked up or even worst put to the death.

 

While none of you have done anything too spectacular nor has your luck been all that great, you all feel like that might change. A woman mysterious woman, Janiven in her late 20s or so approaches all of you. She says her name is Janiven della Francesca, saying that "You are bound for better things. If you agree, then meet me at Vizio’s Tavern tomorrow (or today*) for a early dinner & some idle conversation." (*She meets with everyone over a 2 day period, which puts the meeting today.)

 

Anyone suspicious of the woman & her intents can ask around town & the results are:

 

Worked for many guilds & mercantile interests

 

Worked as a caravan guard

 

Worked most recently as a city guide and bodyguard for visiting merchants that the guilds want to keep out of trouble with local thugs or the shadow beasts that patrol the streets at night.

 

While she is very reliable & trustworthy, she has been known to be a bit rash in her actions (recently & this one does come up quite often) she dragged one of her recent clients in his underwear from a whorehouse when he refuse to leave before sundown.

 

Other then that everyone you talk to has nothing but very high praise & good things to say about the woman.

 

After seeing the woman's offer seems to be legit, you asked around about Vizio's Tavern. Vizio's was a place of to get a decent meal & good drink after a hard day's work. It was also a place that you could complain about your workplace & no one cared, even agreeing with the person complaining about it. The place even drew in off-duty guards that were tired of the governement they worked for.

 

That all changed about 7 months ago with the owner Vizio Costa died suddenly of a heart attack in the middle of a day's work. The tavern didn't survive after wards. The city found that it owed back taxes & the new owners decided to raise the prices to pay for those & cheapen the quality of food & drinks that it served. This proved to be the death of the place & it ended being abandoned a month or so. Recently, the place while not being re-opened for business has had movement inside. It seems that a male half-elf & human woman have purchased the place & are in the process of renovation, thou slowly.

 

You all make your way to the tavern the day of the meeting, a early dinner means around 4 o'clock or so. The Tavern itself is almost in the middle of the city of Westcrown, near the river side of the city.

 

Vizio's Tavern

 

Outside, the place looks like any other semi-abandoned building. The exterior is run down & inside is the same. You can see inside, thou some new construction has started & the bar & a table & chairs (one for each of you) is nice & clean. As you enter the building, Janiven greets each of you.

 

"Ah, you made, welcome!! Please have a seat, what will you have to drink?"

 

*Introduce yourselves at this time!*

 

Also standing near one of the windows is tiefling. His long horns are black, as is his long hair. His skin is a scarlet red. He is dressed in black & red & he is wearing a long (trench) coat, which is worn in places. He also has a saddle bag slung over his shoulder. He carries no obvious weapons, but the one feature that makes you stare a bit are his eyes, they glow a golden color when the light reflects off them. He continues to stare out the window, when everyone moves toward the table.

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Though Vil has been in Westcrown less than a week, he already feels the heavy weight of oppression which cloaks the city. First, the guards had "confiscated" his sword--his last connection to the Barrowood, and a fine blade as well--as he entered the city. Nearly broke, and unable to find work, he has been reduced to living on the street, constantly on the run from the city guard and other dangers of the city. While he is immediately suspicious of this Janiven (primarily concerned that she may know of his past), the offer is intriguing; and further, what other choice does he have?

 

Seeing that few people are inside, Vil lurks in a nearby alleyway until at least two others have entered the building; he'll then cross the street and enter.

 

"You again. Wine will be acceptable. Of elvish stock if you have it, though that I find doubtful." Vil takes a seat where he can keep an eye on the tiefling.

 

Vil shares little information with the others and makes no effort to initiate conversation, especially with the humans. As an introduction, he offers, "You may call me Vil. My eyes are as sharp as my blades; cross me and you'll find out just how sharp that is."

 

Anyone looking at Vil sees a half-elf of average height wearing heavy black leather armor, partially concealed under a worn grey-blue cloak. Two short swords are strapped across his back; no other blades are visible [OOC: all daggers are currently concealed]. While he appears to have a significant quantity of other gear, none of it is clearly visible.

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Cyril strides into the Tavern, his crimson cloak flowing behind him, a well wrought rapier on his hip. Cyril's clothing is well made and meticulously cared for. As soon as he enters the room he sharply makes note of the other inhabitant* and begins to size up the room; making note of the additional chairs. Cyril quickly makes decisions about what sort of performance this crowd will require.

 

Cyril decides on arrogance and taking the offense.

 

"You know who I am Miss Francesca. You asked me here. You invited me to meet in this hole in the wall. Don't waste my time. I know you're an honest woman so I don't presume you and golden eyes there intend to roll me."

 

With a swirl of his cloak, Cyril plants himself in a chair, leans back and plants his boots on the table.

 

"Regale me with your tales of better things to come. It's been awhile since I've had the opportunity to be in the audience. And fetch me a glass of your best red while we wait for the house to fill."

 

 

 

*Since Vil is apparently lurking in the shadows it seems Cyril arrives first.

 

 

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Xaven enters the building with a fluid grace. His clothing well worn, but not tattered, gives no indication of anything except for a frugal lifestyle. No weapons can be obviously seen on his person and one wouldn't think anything of him except for being perhaps a half elven peasant. Upon his entry into the building his eyes quickly scan the surroundings taking note of where people and any furniture or other obstacles are.

 

He approaches the table with the fop sitting at it and takes a seat, intentionally picking the one opposite the table.

 

Greetings, I am Xaven.

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Cyril nods politely to the silent peasant as he sits. "Good afteroon Xaven, I see you are here to view Miss Francesca's show as well."

 

When the second half elf enters, Cyril watches as he takes his seat and makes no effort to stifle the snickers at his threats.

"Well done Vil. You sir are quite terrifying." Cyril applauds softly. "Golden eyes, don't lie, I saw you shudder."

 

 

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As Vil enters, he is somewhat surprised to see another half-elf. After introducing himself, he takes a seat, closer to Xaven than Cyril, and proceeds to observe the other members of the meeting. Looking at Cyril, his first thought is minor noble who doesn't know how to get his hands dirty. The half-elf he is unsure about...his clothing says typical street rabble, but there's something else there. While still a bit suspicious of Janiven's motivations, the presence of others is somewhat reassuring. As for the tiefling, he clearly has some strong infernal blood given his bold features...but his motivations and purpose could be anything.

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For many years, Pierpont had worked happily as an apothecary; she was even successful enough to have opened her own shop. In the past year, that all changed, starting when a noble approached her about crafting poisons. Wanting no part in the plots of nobles, she refused; though she felt no immediate repercussions, three months ago she received notice that the taxes on her shop were doubling. The taxes had hardly been low to begin with, and she was forced out of business, closing the shop for the last time just last week.

 

Last to arrive is a female gnome, dressed all in green and red with a heavy-looking satchel at her side, and a warm smile on her face. Other than a mace hanging from her belt, she does not appear to be armed. She is accompanied by a large wolf-like dog, who at a motion lies down near the door.

 

“Hallo! I hope I’m not late…my names are Pierpont. Both of them.”

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Attempting to be friendly to the non-humans, Vil attempts to strike up some conversation.

 

"Xaven, is it? Your look and dress say peasant, but then why would Janiven be interested in you? From what walk of life do you hail?"

 

"Pierpont, I am Vil. That is a fine dog you have...what is his name?"

 

"Two half-elves off the street, an arrogant minor noble, and the friendly neighborhood gnome walk into a tavern...tell us, Janiven, what do we all have in common that made you bring us here?"

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Xaven nods at the newly arrived.

 

I am a monk, I have wandered the world with naught but the charity of others and the clothes on my shoulders. And I've no idea what purpose our host has summoned us for.

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Cyril speaks in flawless Gnomish, "Greetings Pierpont. I do not believe you are late, the rest of us just recently arrived ourselves. We're waiting for Miss Francesca's show to start."

 

Turning to Vil. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I bear no title. If you seriously think one of the ruling house's blood would be caught dead in a broken down pit like this," Cyril waves his hand dramatically to take in the tavern, "you need to spend a little more time in our fair metropolis." The last is said with an overwhelming tone of sarcasm.

 

"So, Janiven, are we waiting on anyone else or can we get this show on the road? Some of us may have things to do, people to see, jobs to work."

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Vil replies to Cyril, "Is that so? I will admit, I am surprised...every third human in this hellhole of a city claims a noble birth or some ridiculous title. And even the ones that don't tend to act like they do."

 

To Pierpont, "Both helpful in this city, I am sure."

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