So some of the players from the old group moved away from the area and then recently a handful of my old friends moved back to the area, so we invited them to join us, bringing our party back up to four players and one DM, who usually runs an NPC that runs around with the PCs.
I'm taking the DM seat for the first time in a LONG time and running a pre-gen to warm me up. For those of you familiar with Paizo and Pathfinder, we're running the Shattered Star Campaign which, thankfully, none of the players have ever run through. I only have the first installment of the series, but, again, it's a warm-up. After this we may go for seat-of-the-DM's-pants style gaming. We'll see.
As the DM, I'm going to try not to give away too much. I am running an NPC outside of the campaign's realm for the pure purpose of a point of contact should the party lose its way. Oh, and that healing thing.
We're two game sessions in, so I may not remember exactly what happened a month and a half ago at the first session. I'm sure they'll remind me of what I leave out, so this blog may change as we move along.
Game play using Open Gaming License. Major plot lines are owned by Paizo, the Pathfinder Adventure Path Shattered Star: Shards of Sin by Greg A. Vaughan.
This author does not claim to have any ownership to any of the characters, places, ideas, or plot herein, aside from the thoughts and voice of the character who speaks in first person point of view and any separate plot line that arises from the NPC I am running.
None
of this blog may be reproduced without the express permission of the author/compiler,
Amber Manuel.
~
(Note: this scene takes place behind the curtain, without the knowledge of the PCs and before they come into play. This part of the blog aside from specific names of people, gods, and places, are purely from my imagination. Any resemblance to other stories or real life is purely coincidence and fully unintentional.)
Back in Magnimar again. A part of me wishes I could steer clear of this gang-ridden city, but somehow I am always drawn back. Still, this high up in the city, the streets are clean and regularly patrolled by the city guard. Not that I'd need any of the guard - or anyone - to protect me, but it is still good to relax my guard a little. The nobles I pass give me Looks and I realize I'll meet with the guard sooner rather than later.
The Temple of Iomedae is naturally my first destination. Though the priestess looks surprised at my appearance, she makes no comment. All who are true followers of Iomedae are accepted here, though my presence makes more than a few uncomfortable, especially since the sun is setting on the horizon. My skin would be taking on a grayish hue at this point in its nightly journey from brilliant white to pitch black.
I won't get into boring details. Suffice it to say that I closely resemble a Dark Lands native, especially after dark. During the day I am given a bit of a reprieve, though not much of one. I still stand out like a village idiot making a spectacle of herself. Yet anyone foolish enough to mistake me for a run-of-the-mill Dark Lands monster soon learns their mistake.
The priestess looked surprised when I introduced myself, but apparently tales about me have reached this far since she barely broke her stride. Leading me into a private office off of the main temple, she motions to a plush chair. I shake my head; I need a bath and to clean my armor before I sit anywhere but the ground.
"I apologize for not allowing you to clean up before we met," she said. "I'm Annoura."
"The one who sent the missive," I stated. She inclines her head and I immediately tire of the stuffy politics. "What is it you want?" I demand.
Her eyes widen, but someone has coached her. Instead of puffing up like an affronted peacock, she leans back against her chair and studies me, taking in my haggard appearance. No, there's no mirror nearby, but I don't need one to know I haven't stopped for a bath in the week it took me to get here. Mud and dried blood cake my half-plate armor, but I'm certain my tattoo stands out.
It always does, no matter the time of day or attempts to conceal it with clothes.
"Your missive," I state, making sure to infuse my voice with strained patience, "said your needs were urgent."
"Indeed," she agrees. "Honestly, I thought you were a myth. A Dark Lands elf on the surface is rare. One whose albino skin turns black as sin in the night is unheard of. Yet Iomedae trusts you."
I suppress a snort of disbelief at that, knowing the gesture would be unappreciated in Her temple. My mere presence is bad enough. "What do you need me to do?" I press.
"Find a woman. She has something we suspect is a great artifact."
"Who is she and what is the artifact?"
"Natalya Vancaskerkin is her name. She was working for Sheila Heidmarch according to one of my sources inside the Pathfinder Society, but has gone missing and Sheila is looking for her."
"And the artifact?" I ask again.
"My source was unable to determine its nature from the conversation he overheard."
"If it kills me, I'll come back to haunt you," I tell her mildly. She looks affronted, and I grin at her. "I'll start in the morning. What does this girl look like?"
As I take notes, I notice the priestess fidgeting. She could be nervous by my steadily darkening skin, but I have a feeling that it's something else. The world tips on its axis for a moment, and I stop to glare at her. She lifts her chin. "My source also told me that she has invited several individuals to search for Natalya. They will be meeting tomorrow at the Pathfinder Society."
"Infiltrate the Socierty, find the girl, bring her back--"
"Alive," she interjects.
"--I was getting to that part. And bring you the artifact. Got it." I turn for the door.
"The artifact actually goes to Sheila." Her words stop me in my tracks.
Turning, I frown at her. "Why? If this artifact is a big enough deal to catch Iomedae's attention, then why not bring it here?"
"I have only been told that it is to remain in Sheila's possession after retrieval. That is all."
"What about my pay?" I ask. Her gaze widens again and I smirk at her. "Thought you'd got off the hook, didn't ya? Don't worry; I'll discuss it with our Goddess." Without another word, I head for the paladin bunk rooms to get a bath and some sleep. The warm room noticeably chills when I step through the door as the paladins inside size me up as a foe. Putting my head to the side, I grab my armor and pull it down so that the brand on my neck can be seen clearly. The tension ebbs and I pass through without comment.
Paladins know better than to mess with an Inquisitor. Well, at least this one.
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