The 110th year of the second Ravensblood dynasty
The party has decided that their current priorities are to figure out what to do with the spit and, more importantly, decide how to annoy people during the curfew. While Makpov rests from his visit with the ambassador, Quimarel and Tamarie discuss.
Quimarel OOC: Set phasers to tickle-tickle-tickle.Tamarie suggests “have a twork1-off at the dance hall, or kill somebody.” Quimarel notes that these are very disparate options.
(Listening to this now, I wish I’d suggested “set phasers to ‘I’m not touching youuuuuu!’”)
[References to Community, Reading Rainbow, Wishbone, and the Venture Brothers inexplicably follow. Audio seems to suggest that Makpov’s player is using her phone to screen episodes of Wishbone -- I, who never saw Wishbone as a child, suggest that whoever came up with “reenact classic stories but with a Jack Russell terrier” was very stoned.]
A couple Diplomacy rolls above 20 allow Tamarie and Quimarel to gather some useful information. I am briefly confused by the fact that Pathfinder doesn’t have a separate “Gather Information” skill. It seems that:
- Lord Noroiras has moved the curfew two hours later -- “until the moon is about there.”
- People are very concerned and deeply confused about the “blood note”. There are some conspiracy theories floating around, most of which are attached to the Kech or the recently-freed humans.
- The population of the town think the blood note is a sign that everything is about to go horribly wrong.
Tamarie thinks that if she leaves a couple more blood notes, people will assume the existence of a “masked avenger”. Skepticism is expressed around the table. Quimarel suggests mixing Makpov’s saliva with the blood in order to make these experiences more surreal, and Tamarie makes an Alchemy check… 3. Her concoction won’t stick to the wall properly; it’s like writing with water and food dye.
Quimarel OOC, apropos of nothing: Do gnomes wear shoes?It is established that goblins tend to not bother with shoes -- or, at least, not the poverty-stricken goblins that make up most of the population. Quimarel wants to try spreading hallucinogenic saliva on floors, to see what happens. A random die roll reveals that only the nicer buildings have proper floors at all, rather than packed dirt.
GM: Um… I suppose they can go barefoot… but there are no gnomes in town.
Quimarel OOC: Whatever the… you know… things…
GM: Goblins?
Tamarie decides to just leave some “normal” blood notes around town. She goes back to the wall of the governor’s villa, and repeats her previous procedure. (Stealth: 19) The table conversation veers wildly off track again…
Quimarel OOC: The Tongue-Mother! Bow before the Tongue-Mother! You laugh now, but three or four campaigns from now, you’re going to use it.Tamarie decides that the obvious progression from “DEATH COMES IN DAYLIGHT” is to make sure someone dies during the day. There is some discussion on how this might be done, wherein Tamarie suggests she use her “Dust Form” ability to make someone sneeze to death.
Tamarie OOC: Next week. Next week we will fight the Tongue-Mother!
GM: I don’t take requests ever since [Hiddlebatch’s player] asked to fight Hester Prynne last campaign.2
Tamarie: And then I’ll die from being inhaled.Quimarel then adds that since the flag of Capra has a sun on it (a decision made just now, at this table, based entirely on the fact that her player felt like she remembered that being the “logo”, and we agreed it felt thematically appropriate), branding a sun onto their faces might have additional symbolism, what with Noroiras being a Capran protectorate.
Quimarel: Then we can brand a sun on their face.
Tamarie: What, with my knitting needle?
Quimarel: If we burned that sigil into the flesh of your murder victim, that might link it to the governor.Tamarie is plotting to leave one more blood note, and then a body. Quimarel decides to consult with her to make sure she doesn’t kill off anyone important. Tamarie suggests the innkeeper, Drugoz, but Quimarel thinks he needs to stay alive “for now”, because she has “plans for him.” Discussion continues in a somewhat hesitant, confused manner.
Quimarel OOC: We’re taking a turn into serial killer territory here.
GM: And you two aren’t even the Evil party members.
Tamarie: It doesn’t need to be anyone specific. Just some townsperson.Tamarie leaves another “blood note” and then, at Quimarel’s suggestion, uses some scrap leather from her tailory to practice carving sun sigils. She also mixes up a disguise self extract.
Quimarel: Nobody important.
Tamarie: Even a traveller.
Quimarel: Someone staying at the Broken Stone. Maybe we could even arrange for them to die in the inn…
Tamarie: Yeah…
Quimarel: I like the idea, but you need to make sure you have a way out.
Tamarie: Are there windows?
Quimarel: There are windows, but remember how well that worked out last time. And I will need to be far away.
Tamarie: How many people are there in the inn today?
GM: [sound of die rolling] Eight, including Drugoz and two bar-wenches. Five various travellers are staying there, not counting the Kech.
Tamarie: Could we just kill one out back? Leave him by the inn? It’s going to be hard to get into the inn, kill somebody, get out, and not be noticed.
Quimarel: Especially in the daylight.
[There is a long pause as the pair of them contemplate this problem. Several minutes go by.]
Tamarie, after her player has been staring at her character sheet for some time: Oh -- I can be invisible!
[pause for laughter]
Tamarie: Wait… no, I can disguise myself. And change my voice. And turn into dust.
Quimarel: Are any of those travellers roughly the same size as Tamarie?
GM: [sound of die rolling] No -- all five are members of a halfling trade caravan.
[pause as we look up the precise limitations of disguise self; Tamarie can make herself one foot shorter, which is tall for a halfling but not completely unrealistic]
Not long afterwards, a tall (but slouching) male halfling is walking to the inn with a bouquet of roses -- Tamarie having noticed that she can change items she is holding as well, such as… a dangerously-sharpened knitting needle. (Disguise: 36) (S)he slips into the inn, up to the floor with the rooms for rent, and listens at the doors (Perception: 20). She hears some high-pitched snoring behind one of them, indicating a halfling taking an afternoon nap. Unfortunately, this all goes wrong when Tamarie tries to pick the lock. (Sleight of Hand: 6, Stealth: 7) Behind the door, she hears a halfling wake up and groggily snort. “Whuzzit? Huh? Whassgoinon?”
Tamarie opts for a different approach and knocks. “Housekeeping!”
“Who is it?”
“I have a delivery… from downstairs.”
A sleepy-looking older halfling opens the door.
Tamarie, OOC: STAB.Luckily, four damage is enough to overcome an elderly first-level commoner’s hit points, and he collapses on the ground, bleeding out. Tamarie pushes so the body falls into the room, then takes some time writing “DEATH COMES IN DAYLIGHT” and carving a sun sigil. She then casually walks downstairs and out the back door, where she turns into dust and drifts back towards the Squirting Squid as quickly as possible.
Shortly afterwards, they can hear a lot of shouting down near the inn. Looking from the brothel, the party can see a lot of commotion from near the inn, and the guards arriving to look at the body.
GM: They kind of prod at it a bit, because they don’t have modern forensic techniques.Quimarel goes back out among the people, and pretends to be aghast at all this, “clutching her pearls”. [Out of character, Tamarie and Quimarel suggest, via gesture, other things Quimarel might be clutching.] Quimarel makes it known that she is increasing security at the Squirting Squid, because if it could happen at the lovely Broken Stone, it could happen anywhere. She makes a very good show of being concerned but trying to keep a positive outlook so it doesn’t interfere with business.
The party go on another round of Gather Information, to try and discern the town’s reaction. The townsfolk are, understandably, quite concerned. Furthermore, they seem to be trying to ascribe some sort of deeper, conspiracy-related meaning to all this.
Quimarel OOC: Aren’t goblins kind of prone to paranoia?
GM: Very much so. They are convinced that every other species is envious of their natural gifts, and allied against them to make sure that they have to live in crappy settlements like this one.
Quimarel OOC: What do they make of the fact that it’s a halfling death and not a goblin death?
GM: They’re kind of confused about that. Traditionally, they don’t get along with halflings, so they’re thinking, “maybe he’s on our side…”
Quimarel: The next death needs to be a goblin.
Tamarie: We’re already planning another one?
Quimarel: In for a penny, in for a pound. Of death.
GM: “A pound of death”?
Tamarie OOC: A pound of blood.
GM: That’s a lot of blood.
Quimarel OOC: You’re a lot of blood.
A few hours later, after they have had lunch at the brothel, Tamarie heads over to reopen her tailory, since she needs to have some actual income. There is some discussion of Tamarie making tearaway pants for Makpov. After Tamarie has been working for a brief time, one of the wenches from the bar shows up. This is Yona Tribe Muck-Laugh, the goblin that Hiddlebatch scared witless the night the party broke into the Intelligence Corps HQ.
Tamarie: Can I help you?The session ends with Tamarie holding her knitting needles and singing “My Friends” from Sweeney Todd.
Yona: You know, I saw the funniest thing today.
Tamarie: Uh-huh…
Yona: Around the time that someone killed that halfling, I’m pretty sure I saw someone turn into dust and fly away.
[A brief discussion ensues out of character, regarding how many people know Tamarie can turn into dust (“Nobody! Who would know that?”) and whether it would be too suspicious to kill Yona as well because she “knows too much”.]
Yona: Now, I’m sure you know why I’m here.
[The remainder of this conversation is peppered with Tamarie’s player complaining that she is “too pretty to go to jail”.]
Tamarie, worried: Why?
Yona: Do you know how someone can turn into dust? I hear you know all about magic stuff.
Tamarie: The technical term is “alchemy”; I use it for my job.
Yona: But do you know how someone could turn to dust?
Tamarie: No. Do I look like a witch? [Bluff: 21]
Yona: Oh -- that’s a shame. I really thought you could help.
Tamarie: I could help you get some new clothes.
Yona: No, I don’t think I can afford that right now. But if you happen to come across anything --
Tamarie: I’ll let you know.
Yona: I guess I’ll try and find someone else to ask. But you’re the only person I know who does magic stuff.
Tamarie: The only other person who does magic stuff would be Hiddlebatch -- that strange priest on the edge of town.
Yona: The guy with the butterfly wings? The person I saw looked nothing like that.
Tamarie: Who knows what Hiddlebatch can do?
[Discussion ensues on what to tell Hiddlebatch’s player when she gets back -- “While you were gone, we framed you for murder.”]
Tamarie: I’m not saying he did it -- I’m just saying I know a guy who does some magic things.
Yona: I will go check that out. Thank you.
1 Spelling intentional -- previous jokes have established that, in this world, this dance form was invented by orcs.↩
2 During the previous campaign, Hiddlebatch's player and I were in the same study group for Qualifying Exams, and one of the many books on our list was The Scarlet Letter -- and during the studying, she suggested that the party should fight Hester Prynne. I designed a setting-appropriate Hester -- a goblin with a bloody rune carved into her face, living outside of the city of Barlgilton with a half-fiend toddler -- but by the time the group was able to reconvene, the players had forgotten all about that conversation and just ignored the encounter altogether. This ended up having far-reaching consequences in the campaign world: the child grew to adulthood and has brought the Cult of Mephistopheles to a position of significant power in the area. The players will encounter this later in the campaign when they travel to Barlgilton.↩
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