conversations: human
conversations:  It's a dark night in Absalom and the more reputable bars are turning out stubborn patrons. Rainstorms have been the weather of late, and tonight was no exception. Five individuals hunker down in a narrow alley to escape the rainfall. Deeper in the narrow walk way, voices can be heard.
  "I'll nay allow this, ye bastards! Lord Gyr will call upo..." Silence. No dying scream, the man hobbled over towards the five unfortunate souls and collapsed.[1] Two androgynous, identical people strode out of the shadows.
  They wore clothes of an alternate color red/black scheme and both were festooned in various diabolic gewgaws. One was armed with a bloody knife, while the other was armed with a placating smile. His or her voice was disarming, in that it's owner sounded like someone who cut off arms. "Well then Avelfuew, it looks like you're off the hook," he remarked to his twin holding the knife, who in return gave her a shocked look.
  "The murderers! I've found Lord Derringer's murderers!!!", he yelled down the alley's side. As if on cue, two dozen guards, most with looks of uncomfortable fake surprise, came running down the alley. She looked at her twin, who immediately dropped, and smiled at the group of recently framed people. "You might want to start running". With no other options, they start running. Any who stayed would no doubt be killed while "resisting arrest".
  
  The next eight hours were ones of despair. Every they looked, posters were being pinned, criers crying murder, and not a friendly face in the city. A huge 30000 gold bounty had seen to that. There were men at the docks checking ships, wary guards at every gate, and flying woodland companions monitored the sky. Apparently Lord Derringer had opposed Lord Gyr at every turn and the city's merchants were in an uproar, clambering for blood. No where was safe. There remained one place of possible peace, or at least one place that might be safe from amateur bounty hunters. The Precipice District.[2]
  
  They all had the same idea and when throwing off various disguises, decided to remain together for safety. As yesterday, rain was pouring down and they decided to get out of it. A squat wooden building with the faintest remains of gilt seemed the safest bet. It wasn't big enough to house a horde of undead and the roof was caved in, so there would be no surprises from upstairs.
  Once again like yesterday, misfortune struck like lightning. Unfortunately, it was actual lightning this time. The entire building shook, but remained standing. It was raining too hard for fire to be much of a problem and for the briefest of moments, everything seemed it would be alright. But then the floor fell out, so that's bad.
  All five of the unfortunate civilians fell through the floor and into the building's cellar, which, just like the floor it was situated beneath, began to crack and give way. The party finds themselves unceremoniously dumped into what was no doubt once a complex sewer line, now the city equivalent of an underground river.
  After much jostling and banging of heads, the pipe neatly deposited them into a deep, scummy [3] pool. A minute of horrified gasping and frantic swimming later, the group finds itself in a large, brightly lit, domed room. Murals from a multitude of faiths, philosophies, historical events, and a little tasteful nudity decorate the walls. Wizard lights situated near the ceiling provide a soft blue glow.
  Shuffling near around the room's northern wall draws their attention to a pile of rags, which lifts itself up into a pile of bones. The ragged looking skeleton blinks, at least the two red spots in it's skull go on and off, before settling on the water logged party.
  "Wow, you folks look almost as bad as I do." The skeleton had a cultured, almost aristocratic voice, but with an edge that said it wasn't. "You folks are the first I've seen in the past eighty-five years. Welcome to the glorious hidden base of the Bastard Knights!",[4] the skeleton said with the sarcasm of a disappointed mother or an atheist who's turning down an offer to go to church. "Well since you'r here, s'pose I'd better make the pitch then. Eighty odd years ago a group of outcasts made a hell of a lot of trouble in Absalom. These blokes were known as the Bastard Knights. One day, they stole something they shouldn't have from a Quardian diplomat. It was an artifact of incredible power that housed an honest to Abadan angel. Rather than smiting the lot of them, which would the logical thing to do, this angel gave them a chance at redemption. Making up for the their past sins and whatnot. Community service to the extreme. She took all they were and bound them inside various masks, hoods, and helmets." At this, the skeleton gestured toward a row of enclaves behind him, each one bearing a single piece of headgear. "Of course, she then also took their innocent[5] steward and made him watch over the masks until they paid their dues." Somehow the skull managed to convey a look of despair at the unfairness of the world. "All you have to do is put on a mask and their power will be yours. Not all of it, of course. Just as much as you can handle. There's also the slight issue regarding a compulsion to mete out justice, but glossing over that..."
  "With one sample payment of a lifetime of do-gooding, gain the power of the Bastard Knights today! Non-refundable." The skeleton laughed at his own little joke. Grouping together, all five of them made a unanimous decision. Wear the masks to clear their names. It sounds noble, but the alternatives were beheading or spending years in the precipice district.
  As one, they reached over and grabbed hold of a mask. Something was guiding their actions, something ethereal, like destiny itself. Or maybe they just chose the ones that looked the coolest. Either way, let's get this show on the road!
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  1-DC 10 Local to know who he is
  2-For those unfamiliar with Absalom, that name should be sounded with Dun dun dunnn!
  3-Official Pathfinder Dictionary Definition #54 Scummy: Liquid, usually water, that is at least one-half urine, feces, blood, parts of dead people, or rats that are currently drowning.
  4-History or local check for information on the Bastard Knights
  5-Official Pathfinder Dictionary Definition #26 Innocent: What a necromancer says at midnight in a graveyard. While carrying a shovel.
   
conversations: giles92:
conversations: human
conversations:  Marsha thought the headband looked cool, but Gregor was deadset against it, and definitely thought the Mantis Helm would be amazing. Thomas knew that the Bat-shaped one was really the best, and practically dragged Radagan over to it. Of course he couldn't actually drag him, since Thomas was a disembodied voice, and couldn't actually move anything by hmself. That would be silly. Tabetha thought the whole area was disgusting, and didn't even want to think about what they were covered in, but Isabella told her to get over herself. Of course Orsk was around, telling Radagan to kill everyone because they had shoes on. Why would Radagan need shoes, though?
  
  Radagan shook his head slightly to get the voices attention. None of this arguing was helping him decide. And people were starting to look at him expectantly, obviously waiting for him to pick already. Since someone was already grabbing the bat mask, that left the only option the simple eye-band thingie. In a rare moment of decision Radagan found himself putting on the mask, to most of his agreement.
  
  There was silence. Radagan nearly stumbled as he put on the mask, and found silence. There were no more voices. He patted himself, looked at the others, then all around. What he was looking for he couldn't think of. All he knew was that he was in a strange underground hide-out.
  
  Then everything he had ever done hit him like a brick and he had to find a corner to think. He had been crazy! The idea had never occured to him before.
  
  OOC
   
   Spoiler 
  Before this Radagan would have been refering to himself as we, and talking about the opinions of people that weren't there. Though he would be hiding this fact as best he could, it would have tipped off the rest of the party that something was off about him.
   
conversations: AaronGrimstone:
conversations: human
conversations:  Kostin shudders as the scummy water invades his nose first by smell, then by presence. He then manages to fling himself out of the pool, dragging his musket with him by some happy accident. He checks his powder and releases an audible sigh of relief at finding it to still be dry.
  
  Cursing his luck at being marooned in Absolom, it takes him a few moments to catch up to the talking skeleton. Finally, he shrugs and picks the first mask that comes to his eyeline, one of blue glass, wearing a gray hood.
  
  [ COLOR="DarkRed"]"This has certainly been a lot more of this city than I ever wanted to see..."[/COLOR] 
  
  With that muttered curse, he tries it on haphazardly, finally managing to get it turned around the right way, his fingers slick with things he'd rather not know about.
conversations: Zarthrax:
conversations: human
conversations:  Dak likes Dak. Wearing a mask isn't his first choice for getting out of trouble -- it's somewhere around third -- but that's only when it's  not  permanent. He's gotten out of trouble like this before with wits and charm alone. Well, maybe not trouble  exactly  like this... like murdering government officials in the biggest city in the world.
  
  The city's his home, anyway. He's spent the last few years out in the wilderness, but the streets of Absalom feel exactly as he remembered. The Wild had it's allure, but Absal... the plain-faced Mask of Fetch glares at him at this point in his thoughts. Comparatively dull, it has that familiar allure, the wilderness's Call. The walls of the room start closing in on Dak's senses as a wave of claustrophobia comes over him. Suddenly, the city walls feel constricting, Dark's clothes feel itchy, and there is a Call coming from the single mask on the South wall.
  
  No sooner did Dak put on the Mask of Fetch that he began removing his armor and tunic. His body felt free in the open air, his mind felt sharp, the scripts and words around him took on a familiar form, and his sense of self became grounded. The people around him were no longer his concern. He calmly removed his remaining greaves and sat.
conversations: sr123:
conversations: human
conversations:  Spoiler 
  No one else seems to be joining the game, so I'll just go ahead and really start.
   
  
  
  The skeleton seemed incredibly gleeful, which is usually an indication that something really bad just happened. "Okay, great! There's only one other rule that I forgot to mention. If you commit an act of great evil while wearing the mask, the person inside will be set free and you'll take their place."
  Talking quickly to quiet the murmuring, he continued "Don't know what you lot did to wind up here, but it had to be bad. Fortunately for you, here's not a bad place." He then walks over to one of the murals, that of a half-naked mermaid[1] and presses her one visible eye. With an unsettling grinding sound, the stone shifts into itself, revealing a doorway. "The Bastard Knights just used this area for meetings. Teleported in mostly, but Krebin insisted on having a backup." He gestures into the opening into a corridor, which is lit with the same floating lights. "Through here are living quarters, a workshop, and the Bastard's treasure sack. Don't bother trying to open it without the appropriate key, all twelve of which disappeared with them. There's also a magical map of the city and a connection to the old sewer lines. Running through the original sewer lines is what gave the Bastard's their reputation of being everywhere at once. Not sure if all the old passages are still connected."
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  1- Official Pathfinder Dictionary Definition #16 Mermaids: Docile, but dangerous when angered. Most often angered by people painting nude pictures of them.
   
conversations: giles92:
conversations: human
conversations:  Radagan shakes his head, still disoriented. Better to move, though, than sit like a sack. He rose on somewhat shaky feet, then began to move towards the opening.
  
  " I'm going to look around, myself. Don't plan on doing any acts of a particularly evil nature. Can the people trapped in the masks talk to us? "
  
  He makes his way to the workshop, to see what sort of facilities they have here.
conversations: AaronGrimstone:
conversations: human
conversations:  "They can, somewhat. As I understand it, they're only capable when you're unconscious, asleep, or some other state of drooling incontinence."
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  The workstation contains a large variety of stuff. There's gear for training animals, masterwork engineering and blacksmithing tools, disguise gear, a dozen sets of clothes for both genders (priestly robes, peasant smocks, nobleman finery, fake guard armor, barbarian furs, Katapesh veils, servants clothing from every major nation, and several sets of stealthy overclothes, complete with various cloaks, mantles, hoods, and in a multitude of designs, ranging from urban camouflage to plain black), an alchemists lab (missing most ingredients), and a large pile of dark wood.
  Make a perception check to search the room.
   
conversations: giles92:
conversations: human
conversations:  Radagan searches through the room.
  
   
   Spoiler 
  Perception  (1d20+13)[ 33 ] 
   
  
  
  As carefully as he can but with spead and precision.
conversations: AaronGrimstone:
conversations: human
conversations:  While carefully searching the room, Radagan spies a glint of silver underneath the heavy pile of darkwood. It's a large block of pure mithral![1]
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  Official Pathfinder Dictionary Definition #42 Mithral: One of the best materials to make armor of, should be finished in a dark steel. Nothing screams kill me like wearing shiny armor worth more than it's weight in gold.
  
  The block weighs about 50 pounds.
   
conversations: giles92: