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Cultist of an Outsider God (Pathfinder D&D SI) by Throwaway1971
Books » Private Rated: M, English, Adventure, Words: 257k+, Favs: 20, Follows: 23, Published: Jan 11, 2024
Chapter 2: 0-02 Prologue
[00.02: Death, Lost Souls, and the God in Judgement]
For a moment in time and space a bridge was created, a crack in reality that linked souls to a realm of an outsider deity. Mistakenly summoned in this case by seven mortals, now damned by their own hand, but the being known as the Shrouded Lord of Nishrek had no trouble taking advantage of the opportunity long sought after to gather knowledge of this sphere. Similar, but not, to His own natural domains. From the point of view of any passing mortals or spirits the time from the ritual ending, its shadow emerging, and the guttering out of the arcane, divine, and occult energies was but mere minutes. A crescendo of energy, blood, and flames, followed by guttering embers amidst rapidly silenced screams. Then the silence of the woods.
But, for the summoned and the spirits sacrificed, and those spirits of seven damned, time was a more…blurry affair. Through the crack oozed a portion of the Orcish God of War, Knowledge, Pragmaticism, Planning, and, to a lesser extent, Law, drawn by the sacrifice of a half-orc bard at the last. By the foolish seeking and excessive cruelty of the foolish cultists who sought beings far worse than He in so many ways, save for the suffering they were to suffer perhaps. For as a deity of Orc and Human origins, Half-Orc lay strongly within His domain as a racial God, and a chance was presented…and taken. Barriers to His agent's entry were, for that moment in time, gone, and through the crack a bridge, a link, was forged within the almost corpse His power possessed, infused with the energies of several local souls.
So, while the body stood within the ruins of an old inn and waystation, desiccated bodies and flash-dried bloodstains all around…
Three confused individuals sat, suddenly, within a strange looking….tavern?...library?...
The first was a halfling woman, Ile Simpleridge, who struggled at sitting in a comfortable, and perfectly sized tall chair despite its height at the table with the two others beside her, a human woman and half-orc man, who were her friends and colleagues. A crackling fire burned in the large hearth at the centre of what had to be a common room to the halfling as she, and her two friends, looked around in shock and confusion matched only by the relief at sudden pain gone. Bookcases rested against the walls to her right and left, with a bar in between them, though no one else seemed to be within the tavern save them…
"Sorry, I had judgements to make and that delayed me. My apologies" came a voice, a bell ringing above the door to enter the tavern, Ile looking from glass windows where only thick fog lay beyond, to an orc in….very fancy looking clothes and a staff in hand strolled inside. He was larger than her half-orc friend Drin, but the voice was…almost foppish, or maybe noble human-ish?...as the bell rang again as the door closed behind the orc, who walked towards them "Now, now, don't get up. I'm afraid we've business to attend to"
"Aren't we…" Ile's other friend, Idsa, asked nervously "…dead? Didn't we…die? They…"
Then fell silent as Ile remembered the pain…her own screams…
"Now, now, none of those unhappy thoughts" the orc said almost kindly, seeming to strengthen her, as he…went to the bar and then to the table in a blink of the eye, a tray of drinks in hand, carefully placing each before them, Ile's eyes watering at the smell…the memories. Good ones now "Here, have a drink. It'll calm the nerves"
Each drink was different. Ile's a simple cup, with a sweet and warm smelling…smelling…
It smelled just like her mother had made it…
She sipped it…savouring the taste. The memories. Then focusing on Idsa's fancy wine glass with…brandy?...wine?...within, and Drin's large golden flagon, that fake gold from that show in Magnimar about two years ago…
The orc sat across from them, a sad smile on his face, an odd black drink in a glass in his hand, with a frothy white head on it, waiting as they had a drink, a sip or gulp to calm their nerves "Better?"
Ila nodded, realising the others were doing the same. The Orc smiled again, placing back down his drink, hands together on the table "I'm sorry to say that, yes, Idsa, you three are indeed, dead"
"They sacrificed us…" Ile whispered, but the pains and fears of those memories weren't there…instead there was only calm reflection "Killed us to…to summon…"
"Me" the orc said "Though, strictly speaking that was because they were a bunch of incompetents as well as cruel and evil fellows. But, be that as it may, here We Are, achieving one's way unto to Golarion"
Ile bite her lip, the others looking to her, so she answered the orc….not-orc?...before them "But if we're dead…where is…this?"
"Elsewhere, yet nowhere" came the reply as he took another drink, letting out a sigh "Sort of a….place between spaces for your souls to rest a moment, and make decisions. The décor, well, that's from another time and place…"
The orc made a gesture at the bar "There was a funny little kobold who wanted to be dragon who ran the place along with his human familiar. Lovely girl, and even put up with him when he became a dragon…and promptly forgot he was a dragon by acting like a kobold. Who wanted to be a dragon….it was a funny cycle"
"Anyway" the…orc?...said "I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you all, as you are all very nice people, but, well, circumstances involved ruined that. Now, I know you three, your souls being…it's complicated, and I am, well, known as the Shrouded Lord of Nishrek, with several names that you wouldn't know, and the Orcish God of War…one of a few…and Knowledge, and a few other things. Just not on this world, your one I mean"
Ile's mouth opened, then closed without saying anything, while her friend Drin….just managed to articulate his words in a series of near grunts "But…you…ugh…not…expect…"
"Not what we expected?" Ile offered, afraid of offending the being holding their…souls?
Why did it feel so real?
"Different worlds, different pantheons…and several of my colleagues would be exactly as you expect I would imagine" the…god replied with a chuckle "But, yes, sadly you are dead, and your souls have been, without your consent, given to me in tribute. Just as the two others were"
Ile startled "The two other cultists…"
"Have been punished, and then sent on their merry way to afterlife of your cosmology. While they committed crimes…they really aren't mine to judge beyond taking my own compensation for what they intended to do to you all. But they weren't my worshippers, nor willingly signed on to that deal. The other seven…" the orc shrugged "…well, they willingly gave me their souls, and they….well, best you don't know. Suffice to say they won't be a problem anymore. Quite the opposite"
"And us…" Ile said nervously as Drin drank, Idsa doing that nervous tick things of hers by trying to look attractive when scared "…we're…a problem?"
"Do not be afraid, you are a problem, but it is a matter of choices" came the encouraging reply as the Orc God gestured at them "Your choices on the matter, save there are issues"
"Can you…" Ile took a breath "Can…can you resurrect us?"
"Yes" the answer was sad though "But not here, not in this realm. You are not mine, not truly, and I have no worshippers or temples here. I can raise you on one of the worlds where I do. With, or without, your memories if you so wish, in your current bodies, or not…but here. I'll have trouble enough with my servant's soul, body, and powers as it is. To do so….there's always a price to pay, and you cannot pay it here"
"So, we're…just dead" Idsa murmured, starring into her drink "Like that? Or just…what are our choices?"
"As I said…you can raised, but it will not be Golarion, and you will never see it again, nor would your soul return to this realm's heavens or hells. Or at least that's unlikely. That's the first choice" came the kindly, but firm answer to them "Second; your souls pass on your afterlife to be judged. I'll guard your souls till they hit the river of souls, though you shan't remember any of this. What happens to you then is…beyond my control and knowledge. On a personal level I judge you all worthy of your deity's precepts, but…I am not them, so guarantee nothing. But I will pass on any final message you may have to loved ones"
The Orc God paused, made a 'maybe' hand gesture "Or at least I promise my Agent will make best efforts to do so as a divine command. Your world is out of my control after all, and I cannot guarantee outcomes. Finally, the gambling option; you are dead, and I grant your souls to my agent and He seeks methods to return you to life by gathering energies and resources. That could take years, or decades, or never should he be slain, and your souls are released to the afterlife without that protection. No promises beyond best efforts being made"
He waved at them "Drink, relax, you have time. It's…relative here shall we say. Make a decision when you are ready and so shall it be. If you have questions, I shall endeavour to answer them as best I can"
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Cultist of an Outsider God (Pathfinder D&D SI) by Throwaway1971
Books » Private Rated: M, English, Adventure, Words: 257k+, Favs: 20, Follows: 23, Published: Jan 11, 2024
Chapter 3: 0-03 Prologue
[00.03: Seeker of Knowledge]
There were twelve souls of mortals offered up.
Two were betrayed cultists of the Demon Goddess Lamashtu.
Three were innocent souls captured and slain in rituals beyond their understanding.
Seven were fools and monsters that offered themselves up in greed and madness.
The Two Cultists were drained of energy, souls reduced and weakened…but released into the 'river of souls' to be judged by those that would judge them in the boneyard. For they had intent to summon and cause harm, but had not struck directly against the Shrouded Lord, nor had their allegiance been willing, but instead compelled by trickery and betrayal. While opposed in alignment, and an enemy in purpose, to do more was deemed unjust by the Outsider God, and, so, those souls, weakened as they were, flew free.
From the Three Innocents…all choose to pass on, though with memories altered to know naught what had truly occurred, to their own judgement in that land beyond. Whatever desires they had left in the material world, messages and wishes, were taken upon by the Outsider God to be granted, if they could be, by His soon to be agent. Memories, language, and other shifting shards of lives lived and then cruelly lost, as so often happened upon Golarion and other such worlds. Carefully the Shrouded Lord had taken these things, as in the frozen moment a soul was shaped.
Shaped from the wreckage of the seven souls damned and destroyed for their madness and crimes. Blood, and soul, magic was not favoured by the deity, but needs must, and they had given willingly, if foolishly, and their crimes were apparent. Such as they had tried to do, was done unto them as the souls were torn and shattered asunder, the darker remainders ripped away. From the wreckage the Outsider went to work, taking the shattered souls and reforging them as if a blacksmith at a forge, adding memories of a core personality and adding what divine powers that could be given through the crack in reality. Seven reduced to One, but One that was Two within as a measure for security and ensuring viability.
From a damaged half-orc body was forged two bodies. Two Aspects.
One, the Scholar. The Human.
Two, the Soldier. The Orc.
Should one die, the other would rise and restore that slain aspect by rest and recovery. An old trick, if limited in utility, as the energies were forged, and a new soul took shape. Two of the more common aspects of the Outsider God in the flesh. From Chaos…cometh Order.
Bones broke and reset, healing and burning, as a body came forth from the shadows, human and naked, formed from memories and understandings of the world he would walk on. For a moment another body orc and naked, was mirrored….
Then there was one, the human, the soul who had not yet chosen his name as he breathed his first breathes upon the world distantly doomed from the beast at the sphere's heart. Ragged, gasping breathes, resting on hands and knees on muscles not yet used, shifting from human to orc, and then orc to human, in the ruins filled with death and corpses…
From death, life…
"Wake up"
I opened my eyes.
The shadow spoke to me again "How do you feel?"
Confusion filled me….memories rolled over me….
I was….
"Calm. Give it a moment, mortal mind and lots of memories being organised"
He was…I was…
We were….
I took a breath. In. Out. In. Out.
I was alive…and…
Currently human?
Oh. That made…sense…
I spoke Varisian…and Kellish…and a smattering of other tongues, but mostly Common…
Which was a...useful part of me, though I was still processing who 'me' was right now, understood that was a good thing as mind began to work once more.
Once more and for the first time. One the many strange things that felt like paradoxes to me as I was.
I groaned, forcing myself to stand careful, rubbing my aching head. Shivered. It was cold.
Clothes were needed. The shadow agreed. Thankfully there were plenty of bodies to loot from.
Memories, distant, a haze, gave me an idea already about which to go for, or, rather, where there was nondescript travel clothes stored away to be used for this purpose. I winced, walking on rough stone not being pleasant, as my mind and soul solidified giving me a mild headache to match that irritation. Thankfully clothes were waiting, that part of me knew were meant to be bland and travel worthy, mostly for escape, and I mixed and matched in the ruins that night to get into both the most comfortable, and the least identifiable. Within my mind there was the understanding that these fools had taken the meagre goods from the wagon of the three travelling entertainers…
"Killed the horses too"
"Yes" my God agreed as a shadow guiding me as I let out a groan "They sacrificed the horses too, and several dogs they'd captured"
I pinched the bridge of my nose "That's annoying"
"Indeed, makes travelling a little harder for you" my temporarily manifested divine link informed me, marking out where things of use might be "It limits what can be taken as well. Though there is a bag of holding"
"My magical knowledge is…dubious"
"Less developed than desired, but that's your goal after all. Learning such things" I was told as I began to loot what I could, seeking out that bag in particular as there was plenty of coins here that I'd need in coming days, once I arrived at….Sandpoint was the name of the nearest town "Bards and cultists, and not particularly competent in the case of the cultists. I have organised and cleared it of the dross, and grant you other worldly knowledge…"
"So dramatically put for spells I know"
"But can't really use, as their alien in the underlying structure even when the effects are similar" came the response from the shadow "Not many people speak that version of draconic after all, even the orcish tongue here is radically different. Obviously"
That….made sense to me after a moment's consideration while I put on my new pair of boots. There were some weapons nearby as well, knives, along with a belt I sorely needed I thought…
"I need to burn this place. Destroy the evidence"
My patron/creator/me/shadow nodded beside me "Yes, but not immediately as you aren't even fully dressed yet. There is sufficient oil and tinder to start a blaze if you move the bodies. Then set a rune to ignite on them with a time delay or light ignition. That would ensure you are hours, or ideally a day, away from here when the place burns down"
I…nodded. That made sense as I began to think. To understand who and what I was, and where I was relative to other locations that those I had gotten limited memories from had given me. Drawing attention from any nearby enemies, like goblins or dangerous wildlife could be as deadly as sending up a beacon-fire to any would be murder-hobos that might be lurking around. It would take some effort, perhaps and hour or two, but I was newborn and full of energy…
'And really need time to know myself as well' I knew from…not experience, but who I was…
Or who I chose to be. I had been granted tools, but I was no Archmage here and now. Instead, I had a large amount of bizarre feeling local knowledge mixed with what the natives would see as alien. I was the sole cleric and worshipper of my deity on this world for one, which rather limited my powers there. Yet I had a significant amount of knowledge of herbs and alchemical ingredients available, along with probably wrong ritual-work and…
"Oh…I know about the demon cult thing" I muttered, getting an almost chuckle from my slowly fading shadow, the portal/gate closing as the Soul Bond strengthened as an anchor from my soul to the realms of my God "Well, that's, uh…new?"
"You know what the seven idiots and two betrayed knew" was told to me, and I nodded, to myself really as I began to get the coins of the cultists, as well as those of the three innocents whose names I knew, and final requests I'd have to try carry out someday. Fragments of their souls within me "Which isn't really that much all things considered, beyond a decent number of faces and names to be aware of. Some general local and non-local knowledge"
'Drawn from the now dead. Knowledge is Power and all that' I thought, standing back up, surveying the horror around me. Closing my eyes a moment and taking a breath, then opening them again I focused on my current tasks, energy filling me "Right. Let's get this mess sorted and get on the way to Sandpoint. I'd rather have my journey of self-discovery and finding myself in a tavern, during a festival and markets, rather than in charnel house in the middle of monster filled forests"
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Cultist of an Outsider God (Pathfinder D&D SI) by Throwaway1971
Books » Private Rated: M, English, Adventure, Words: 257k+, Favs: 20, Follows: 23, Published: Jan 11, 2024
Chapter 4: 1-01 Welcome to Sandpoint
[01.01: Welcome to Sandpoint]
The first day and night of my life were somewhat of a blur I had to admit as I walked along a road that was more well used earthen path than well maintained stone road. I'd like to have said power filled me, but that wasn't quite the truth despite my complete lack of sleep, or need to do so, as well as traveling while invisible at times…and as an orc, then as a human, at intervals. I was human now, and would likely be that the majority of the time…
Even if my body wasn't quite the exactly most physically or dexterously gifted, with the bodies and souls of those utilised for my…creation?...birth?...had been from cultists and travelling entertainers. Even the half-orc amongst them, brave and entertaining, Drin had been no fighter, and so neither was I despite a fair degree of knowledge of how to be such. I was starting to feel that minor fact now, with sore legs and a distant tiredness as my 'honeymoon' of sorts came to an end, and the energies that birthed me hide themselves away. To do otherwise would be a foolish thing, not only burning myself out in a flickering moment, and drawing attention I wouldn't need now I'd hit civilization.
Or, well, what counted as civilization some memories not quite my own indicated…
The hasted and 'magical' journey here, at the very least, at allowed me to come to terms with myself, and to create my legend. To be who I claimed to be. Or would claim to be anyway, as the only person I'd said the names too had been myself, in the murky waters of a stream in the moonlight.
In my human half, as I was now and likely be mostly, I was Anton Damasio. Born of a Varisian mother and a Chelaxian faither who'd never told me much about my history while travelling about, then settling down as a forester. Both dead sadly, and why I was wandering the world, looking to make my fortune with what meagre skills I had. Which was literacy, and alchemy, and other assorted skills that came from possibly being the son of a bastard son of a family of means…perhaps. That was drawn from the memories of several evil souls and the gifted knowledge of three innocents who'd travelled enough to know when to let people answer their own questions…
'And I need to explain how I'm…oh, well, a well-educated young man despite no qualifications or connections to speak of!' I mused to myself as I walked towards the town of Sandpoint. The name choice had been back up by my looks, which were giving hints of that Chelaxian-Varisian mix in my ancestry, even with the tone of my accent potentially. How you had knowledge despite being a nobody had to be explained by something, even if I was just under twenty by my looks, my walking stick, as it wasn't a staff yet, helping me trudge forward behind a small group of four merchants in a wagon.
That was good news, as there were several people on the road currently, and the fires burning down the ritual site had only ignited an hour ago I felt in my mind as they'd activated. There was limited chance that anyone would associate the random stranger, me, wandering into town as the suspicious fellow that must be investigated in relation to the mysterious ruin of murder and dark magic. That'd be a problem for me after all. Thankfully there was decent road traffic that there were plenty of lone peddlers rolling into town, mostly on this road as there were plenty of goblins active everywhere…
'Because of the Cult of Lamashtu have a problem with this town for…some reason' was my knowledge on the matter as the seven idiots who'd died were, well, idiots and didn't know or care the reasons. Just in using the resources gained from infiltrating the coven, and the two actual cultists that remained didn't quite know either as they were nobodies in the hierarchy 'Which may or may not be a problem for me in the time I'll to be here. Need to figure a way to get the knowledge into the hands of the proper authorities…or perhaps some murderous homeless people. Or something'
I sighed…this was less than ideal really. After all I couldn't really do anything directly without some questions being asked that I couldn't answer…
'And there aren't even guards at the walls to check the arrivals…not the best there' was my following thoughts as I strolled into the town. In my hand was an oaken 'stick', or rather a branch I'd started to cut and carve at, that served as my walking stick, and a square pack upon my back with a bag of holding within, and crude bedroll at the top. While I didn't quite look it clad in my fairly non-descript green-brown-black travelling clothes I was, for the moment, reasonably well off after taking the coins from nine dead cultists, their cults stores, and the three sacrificed entertainers. For twelve people it wasn't much, barely travel money, but for me it was nice little starting sum that would give some degree of comfort for a time…or, as intended, to purchase resources for crafting.
My…unintended sponsors…had gifted me with a small, but decent, bit of alchemical ingredients and reagents, and I'd been collecting in the forest, even if that was a bit…blurry. Unfortunately, I needed tools and the like to make use of such things, as well as quills and paper. But, firstly, I needed a bed for several days and nights, the faint memories of Ile, Idsa, and Drin granting me some idea of where to go in this town of just over a thousand people. They'd planned to stay in a place called Cracktooth's Tavern because they were entertainers and the place favour such, and had competition as it were. That wasn't for me though as I…wasn't sure yet on that to be honest with myself, and the Black Deer Inn was...more expensive than I'd like according to their memories of the place.
The Feedbag or Fatman's Feedbag was, supposedly, a criminal inclined place, and I rather didn't want to get robbed just yet, and the Hagfish Tavern was also dear, again supposedly. Going by memories not my own in regards this local area was…something I needed to sleep on. Which was why I was making my way towards a popular murder-hobo tavern, that those three innocent souls had largely avoided, which had individual rooms. Ideally one of which would be free, and not cost me an arm and a leg because I wasn't no adventurer and therefore not up the totem pole of the owner. But…needs were, and I made my way through the streets, surprised nobody had stopped me or the handful of others who'd just wandered into town. Even if night wasn't too far away…it really wasn't exactly the best security ever, looks from natives and conversations about visitors aside. I did have extraordinarily good hearing I'd discovered.
'Good or ill' I thought with a wince as I'd have to deal with the rowdy tavern, even if it wasn't very busy yet as I entered the place. There'd been a fascinating dragon or wyvern construct on the roof, but I wasn't much in the mood as I pushed open the door, looking around wearily to get my bearings and then making my way towards Asian looking woman with the sword behind the counter. The light of the sun streamed in through the windows, hiding the fact that evening and sunset were only a short few hours away, but the workday wasn't over and my timing wasn't bad I judged as I strode forward, giving a 'tired' smile as I looked at the woman.
"Greetings! Apologies, but are you the owner of this fine establishment?"
The woman gave me a flat, looking, eyes doing that up and down motion, then sighing as she finished cleaning out a metal flagon "Well, aren't you the friendly one. Aye, I am, Ameiko, and this be my inn. Not from around here I take it?"
"Sadly no, I'm just a traveller, a seeker and seller of knowledge and such things as it were" I replied trying to maintain my friendliness at the woman's less than great interest in my being here, or perhaps not overly impressed at my person most likely "A, well, some friends, had recommended the lighthouse to study, and that there was a festival…well, sorry, babbling. I rather looking to get a room, for a week, perhaps two, and I'm hoping there's accommodation available"
She signed, nodding "Payment in advance. I've two single rooms left, the Drake and Green. Five silvers. Doubt you want the better rooms, poor peddler I'm guessing right? Don't try haggle, Five silvers a night. Or one copper piece if you want to crash on the Common Room floor where you can. It'll be six if you leave an' come back beggin"
'Better I'd hoped really' I nodded politely, carefully reaching into my 'public' coin purse, carefully taking out four, slightly battered admittedly, gold coins and handing them to the woman "Eight days, paid in advance acceptable?"
The owner nodded, considering "Throw in another and I'll make it ten days and food to go with the board for them"
"I…" I paused, making it seem like I was struggling with it, then sighed and nodded, fishing out and handing over another coin as she did a bite test as it were on the korvosan coin. 'Forcing' a smile "Very acceptable Miss Ameiko"
"Fair, now I'll show you to your room. It's the Drake if yer askin, and I'll give ye the key. Has a bed, table, chair, chest, what you'd expect. Rules are simple. No thieving. No killin. No wrecking my property. And I don't do drink tabs for strangers. Which is you. Understood?"
"Crystal clear" I answered in an honestly content and friendly tone "Though, could I ask as to the location of suppliers of paper and quills, along with potion bottles…"
"You're asking, me, about glassworks?" came the exasperated sounding reply as she showed me towards the stairs and towards my room "Right, of course you are. Well, to the first, there is…"
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Cultist of an Outsider God (Pathfinder D&D SI) by Throwaway1971
Books » Private Rated: M, English, Adventure, Words: 257k+, Favs: 20, Follows: 23, Published: Jan 11, 2024
Chapter 5: 1-02 Welcome to Sandpoint
[01.02: Welcome to Sandpoint]
My first day…well, night, in a town since I'd been 'born' was very much boring and uneventful as exhaustion had caught up with me after I'd stayed in my rented room, spending an hour, maybe two, crafting my staff…
And then, falling asleep in the chair for a little while, till I'd woken, briefly, and then moved to sleep in the decently comfortable and clean bed. Dreams, or perhaps the shifting memories of my new soul sliding into place, came, but not strongly, and I woke refreshed in the morning…albeit late in the morning, near midday, with the workday begun for most folk I guessed as I emerged into the largely empty common room. There'd been a washbowl at least, and I felt refreshed and clean-ish as I descended the steps, having locked the room with my key, taking my 'side carry back' over my shoulder rather my travel case. That would look out of place and draw attention walking around with it every day.
'Woman works long days' I thought seeing the owner of the tavern was cleaning alongside another, younger, girl, who I assumed was a barmaid. Both gave a glance in my direction as I descended the stairs, though it was only the own, Miss Ameiko, that gave an almost eye-roll expression or something of trying to conceal distain perhaps. Well, sleeping late after not drinking…well, not the best display of being hardworking, and I suspected the woman believed I was rather slothful or indolent, or perhaps with less savoury associations. Unfortunately, I was still feeling the aftereffects of being born, and then travelling straight here with magical aid…so I'd needed the sleep to be honest. Even if I was yawning again as I came to the bottom of the stairs.
"Difficult travels tire ye out lad?" well, it wasn't laced with contempt, but she was showing a bemused form of it I guessed as the owner rested her back against the counter "Not cut out for even the travelling life, let alone adventuring?"
"Ah, I shall leave that to those more capable in those areas than I Miss Ameiko" I replied politely, surprised she'd even bothered speaking to me "Tis later than I'd have liked, but the appeal of a comfortable bed after forests and roads was too great. Even over some drinks. Best to seek out those you had told me of with a clear mind"
"Hmm" came the first response, probably thinking me overcautious "Well, you are in luck, as someone you might want to talk to be staying here. Staying here and moping…"
"I am not moping as it put it Miss Kaijjitsu" came an older voice from across the room "I am studying while waiting for an appointment"
The owner ignored the man's words, sort of, instead resting the cloth she was cleaning a flagon with, jerking the thumb of her free hand in the direction of the older man I now saw. Light-skinned and with greyish-silver hair and beard, clad in blue-white clothing and sitting before a book "Ezran here calls himself a wizard. He might even share something you useful if you buy him a drink"
"He might, yes" the man, Ezran apparently his name, said after a moment, holding up his flagon indicating it was almost empty I assumed "What, you're the peddler…alchemist or something I hear?"
'Small towns' I thought, the owner, Ameiko Kaijitsu shrugging, "It'll have him quit his whining least…so, an Ulesberry for him lad?"
"Make it two, one for myself" I replied with a polite smile, walking, nor stalking, towards the table with the elderly wizard at it. He didn't look like a drunk willing to sell his secrets to me, but sometimes it was hard to tell at times as many functional alcoholics….well, were functional even at these levels. It brough me past the counter, and I pulled out enough to pay for the two drinks, then carrying them over to the table, and offering one of the man.
"Anton, pleasure to meet you good sir. Ezran, was it?"
"Yes, my friend, Ezran indeed!" the wizard replied accepting the ale, then offering out a hand to shake…or do a wrist-hand clasp shake of sorts "Our wonderful inn-keep yonder was telling me you were looking for certain goods and services, and might be interested in a…trade of arcane services shall we say? Travelled here on the roads?"
"Yes, in part to see certain local sites, the festival, and, ideally, get some coin together before travelling unto Magnimar should it be possible" I gave back an honest answer, sitting down and taking a drink of the ale…that was quite good actually "Though I fear I shan't be able to offer over much, as my education has been rather patchy I'll admit. Family, and then self-taught in the arts so far. But I'll freely admit I can brew a potion or scribe should such services be in demand"
"Perhaps" the mage replied with a chuckle, taking up his ale "But I am also looking for some help with a goblin problem"
"No" I stated blandly "I am support, with plans of hunting goblins and the like. There is goblin problem out there, I'm aware, because I walked to the town and the little devils are abroad in the lands. I am perfectly happy to supply healing potions on commission, assuming you have a few days. I have a few on my person, but I'd planned to restock on my stay here"
"Hmm, and crafting your staff too I hear" he told me nodding, arms on the table "Well, I would be interested in some healing potions, at cost…perhaps purchase of ingredients and trade of knowledge"
"Meaning you're short of coin?" I said with a snort, even if the wizard laughed and shook his head. Despite that trading even lower levels, or in this simply getting spells would be of help "But, my arcane means, that does seem a decent trade to make up for the loss of coin on my brews. I expect ingredients paid for in advance, and I shan't be starting anything till tomorrow as I'm seeking to improve the quality of my alchemical tools"
"Family stuff worn down?"
I gave a snort. It was untrue, but the stuff I'd taken from the cultists was…well, not the highest quality, even if decent, but I wanted to offload anything related to the incident within the next few weeks "No, but we shall say I'd like to improve certain things so as to improve end product quality"
The older wizard gave chuckle, bemuse "Fair, and yes, quality will be a deciding factor. If it's bad…"
"Refund of ingredient cost. Yes, I expected as much" I drummed my fingers on the table "That's perfectly agreeable terms. I'd like to suggest a written agreement"
He raised an eyebrow at that "Truly? Self-taught you say?"
"By family as it were. I'm seeking scribe work, or a formal teacher in the arcane arts, if you'd like to give a recommendation?"
"Heh, heh, I don't think my word will get you too far lad!" came back as I'd expect "But I won't put the ambition against you! Do up a contract and we'll have a review of it tomorrow and sort out those ingredients for you. I think I have the supply already even! And I've got a few days waiting for friends to show it appears"
'Somehow I feel I'm being taken advantage of' I thought, but even a few scraps of low-level spells would let me get into an area where I could function as a mage of sorts. My own 'spell-book' currently being turn out bits from the spellbooks of the idiots and the innocents, with anything that could identify that fact now ash on the wind many miles from here. After this, this was a murder-hobo wizard and they usually had a utilitarian set of such things, and the more I learned of practical use the more I could 'fit in' in the days to come. Plus it was good to have a drink and talk shop, waiting for food in an hour or so by the owner's shout, as I could do my shopping in short…
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Cultist of an Outsider God (Pathfinder D&D SI) by Throwaway1971
Books » Private Rated: M, English, Adventure, Words: 257k+, Favs: 20, Follows: 23, Published: Jan 11, 2024
Chapter 6: 1-03 Welcome to Sandpoint
[01.03: Welcome to Sandpoint]
Sandpoint was a pleasant town, if a bit…concerning in lack of security considering the fact that cultists and goblins were nearby. Not that there weren't any guards, there were, as I'd seen them on my trip to the markets wandering around. And there were murder-hobos too, here and there, it was just the town seemed very laid back about things, the upcoming festival on the minds, and from the mouths, of the townsfolk. The town was walled at least, and the militia and sheriff looked competent at a glance…but I had the burden of some knowledge outside of theirs sadly. In that there was a goblin problem out there.
'Maybe good then that I backed up Ezran's opinion there is goblin problem then' I mused to myself as I sat in my rented room, finishing up some work on my poor excuse for a spell-book. There had been a place in the town to buy a, not too expensive I'll admit, 'empty' tome that I'd stitched in my collection of pages of various arcana and divine scribblings. It looked dreadful really, a messy, Frankenstein, of a grimoire, but it was the best I could afford as I finished the stitching for the evening, hearing the noise from below, and the setting sun through the iron barred windows. Optional shuttering, but I expected most were like myself in preferring the security with thieves as they were.
Especially when I had alchemical work slowly simmering away the last three hours. Something I went to review with a sigh as I closed over my spell-book/record-book/notepad. Potion creation, with simple formula, was within my current capabilities, even if I was 'cheating' just a little bit by adding a lingering blessing to 'improve' the formula. Really it was just helping with my less than stellar facilities and tools I figured as I checked the progress, then removed the heated stones and ashes from underneath the bubbling mixture in the container and set it to rest. My magic might be limited, but create fire was a handy regular bit of spellwork to have readily available I found. That and thankfully the 'burner' didn't emit too much smoke, as I doubted Miss Ameiko would be happy if I stank up the room, even with the window open. Something I closed and ensured was locked now I was heading downstairs.
'Batch one done, and moderately successful' I thought after a sniff of the beaker filled with what a past life would call proto-healing potion. Putting it to floor, in a cooler and darker area, I could leave it for the night till it settled, and the final steps could be applied tomorrow. If Ezran turned out to be trying to screw me over, at least I'd have an extra bit to try sell at the markets or use for myself should the need arise. It had turned out the owner of the Inn's family owned the glassworks in town, and they had what I could tell were adventurer sets for potions between the vials and the carry cases I'd purchased. Not that they'd given me any discounts…but I couldn't really complain as I quickly went about cleaning my alchemical gear, and then storing it away into my carry pack. Safety first after all.
That done I ensured I'd a few coins on my person for tonight, as I'd perhaps get an hour or so talking shop as it were with the middle-aged wizard before the common room got busy and singing and hard drinking started proper. With my stuff secured, and a quick spell ritual cast after a few minutes, I slung my spell-book carry bag over my shoulder, resting at my waist, and exited the room to descend the stairs after locking the door behind me. As I descended the stairs, I could see there was already a crowd starting to arrive in, though it wasn't too loud, and it seemed the older wizard was back as well as I hoped, though already drinking as the smell of food cooking reached my nose. It was a bit later than I'd planned then if the deer or boar haunch that was roasting was nearly ready for serving.
'Good though…I am hungry' I thought with an amused snort, approaching the counter and ordering myself a drink, and another for the wizard I'd be talking too. The man had the decency to buy me drinks back, and I was in the mood for a few drinks tonight, my busy, and costly, day over and work completed. A drink in each hand now, I manoeuvred my way over to the table the man was sitting at, drinking while writing it looked like, my voice a chuckle as I approached "Ezran, my friend, here, a refill for a clearly busy wizard"
"Ah, lad, running late you are" the silver bearded man laughed back, slapping his hand off the table as he looked up and saw the drink offered for him "But I'll forgive you, seeing you come bearing offerings!"
"Hmm, yes, well busy with customers demands as it were" I answered with good humour as I gave him a nod of indicating him being the problem "Some are demanding I find"
"Heh, and some folks complain too much" he laughed, then downed whatever was left in his original flagon, lightly banging it unto the table with a sigh "Good stuff. But, progress is good?"
"Yes, as I'd expected anyway. No serious issues" I said over the babble in the background, carefully shifting my 'book-satchel' unto the table, shifting to sit more comfortably on the bench "Now, perhaps as we'd discussed…before the crowd gets more boisterous, and we both get more inebriated"
"Should have come down earlier if you didn't want the drunk louts coming about" he told with a chuckle, and I couldn't but shrug in response as he shifted things around on the table to better accommodate two books and drinks without spilling anything on them "Lookin' a bit better there now than earlier Anton…"
I shrugged as I moved said not-so-great-looking book "Well, repairs are underway as they say. Now, we were discussing mental effects, and I'm interested in talking about daze as it's referred too…"
My general impression was that Ezran was not the long-established wizard I'd thought he was, as, age aside, he was likely self-taught as well…but it was a decent enough exchange still. I needed the grounding in more practical cantrips and lowest level spells, and even generating such were difficult based on the knowledge I had in some ways. That and, well, it was pleasant to drink and engage in conversation on magic with someone actually quite passionate about the subject, yet also not talking down to me as could be expected in a situation such as this. A lucky find as it were.
So, I managed to spend some time discussing the matters at hand, though sadly shorter than I'd have liked as the crowd began to fill up and food was being served again in quantity. Anyway, after my second ale, and my companions third or maybe fourth depending on how he'd been before I'd arrived down, the discussion got a lot broader, and potentially messy too. So away to safety spell-books and notes went as I ordered some of the cooked deer meat and vegetables, the conversation yet again turning to goblins it seemed. Or rather the results of the man's efforts earlier today in seeking out a guide, or scout, to do things like killing goblins whenever his friends arrived, and he convinced them of the need. Or convinced me of it perhaps as we talked while I dug into the dinner.
"…see, that would be a note in the Pathfinder Chronicles…"
"Sadly, you be preaching to the wrong congregation my godless friend" I replied between chews, motioning with knife "As, well, going out in the woods and hunting down goblins sounds absolutely dreadful. Muddy, cold, misery…and they sing too I hear. Which is enough to make me want to kill them, yes, but also stay far away from them in the first place"
"No sense of adventure lad!" came the tut-tut reprimand of sorts, though it wasn't aggressive, just bemused as he ate "Life is to be lived…"
"That I agree with, but I'd like to live a bit of it in comfort a while if I can" I pointed out, barely over the babble of the crowd "Also, I like being alive, and such activities sound frightfully dangerous and likely to reduce those odds of me staying alive"
"Ah, well, I wasted much of life with such limited…"
"EZ!" came a big, loud, voice from nearby as…I glanced back and saw a big, burly, armoured fellow to match the big loud voice, flanked by two women. One human, dressed like stripper, with her body covered in arcane tattoos I guessed at a glance, and the other a lean and black-eyed elf. Local elves had those soulless black eyes of theirs for some reason, but it didn't bother me seeing it in personal. Rather those tattoos were rather fascinating, even if I avoided looking hard as the scantily clad woman who had them would otherwise assume I was looking her up and down. Not that I hadn't, she was attractive, but older than I, and likely dangerous in some way. The fighter of the trio, as I assume he wasn't a paladin or such from his looks and swagger, was carrying a…smelly sack over his shoulder for whatever reason as I nodded at Ezran.
"Your friends I assume?"
"Indeed"
I shrugged, then wince at the thump, thump, approach nearby, sighing as I had to slide up a bit at a shove from armoured ruffian "Oi, make room! Ez, we have got news for you! There's a goblin problem needin' solving"
'I hate adventurers' I thought as I watched the elf, noting the thief even before Ezran jokingly greeted her as such. Or perhaps not so jokingly. But I'd rather not be robbed as I ensured the warrior was between me and her, the tattoo woman moving to sit on the other side of the table 'And so much for magical studies. Well, festival to enjoy in a day or two at least'
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