This is part of a series called "Tales of the Magaambya," and is in my set of TTRPG Wrap-Up fiction. I am in several TTRPG groups, whether it be D&D, Pathfinder, or something else, and to keep track of the plot and keep myself on my toes, I write session wrap-up notes in the form of in-character journals. In this case, this is the grand tale as told by a bard of their personal adventures and exploits. It is based on the characters in a Pathfinder 2e game of Strength of Thousands that I run, which takes place in the world of Golarion. Consider this your warning that THIS SERIES WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE STRENGTH OF THOUSANDS ADVENTURE PATH FOR PATHFINDER SECOND EDITION. All within is personally written by me personally, summing up the exploits at my personal table, and are not at all considered "canon" to the adventure, and ABSOLUTELY contain deviations from the published adventure that I put in myself. But it will spoil the story, so beware.

Part 5

Going Postal

Oathday, Arodus the 6th, 4720 Absalom Reckoning

Another morning met our heroes, and with it came a task courtesy of the Emerald Boughs, a branch particularly concerned with diplomacy, intelligence-gathering, social studies, and improving communities wherever possible. This in mind, our new human friend Ignaci met us along with Tzeniwe, an Adani student. In the interest of connecting with their new home, exploring the city, and gaining a better feel for their surroundings, the two assigned us the community-focused task of delivering mail.

It proved easy enough early in the mission as the party spent a few hours delivering across the city, only to come across a few problem letters. Four parcels had “descriptive addresses,” which was generally unhelpful to us, as all non-local students. Thankfully, the investigatory skills of Jhaan came in clutch as he handily found the four homes thanks to his atlas, research, and talking to people on the street.

After that, five parcels had muddy handwriting, all but unreadable. Luckily, Oyana’s superior linguistic skills, and phenomenal ability to read handwriting, gathered from her anthropological interests, helped them find the addresses easily.

Three were to be delivered to gods, by all accounts. A letter to Gozreh, god of nature and storms, was delivered by Kahara's loyal pterosaur companion, Mist, by flying it in the air and letting it catch the wind (while not necessarily the way it was intended to be delivered, hopefully this proved good enough?). The third was to Mazludeh, empyreal lord of stewardship, community, and snakes. This had to be written on an egg and fed to a snake. Oyana’s natural writing skill helped with copying the text onto an egg, and Kahara found a hungry snake to feed within the local temple to Mazludeh.

Lastly, a letter to Nethys, god of knowledge and secrets, had to be struck with five spells simultaneously, which was accomplished quickly enough with our magical students (with the help of a Mazludeh cleric).

Finally, as the end came into sight, one package remained. A single issue, difficult to handle. The letter was, in fact, addressed to the "Magaambyan Parcel Deliverers." We opened it, deeming is to mean us, and found a letter detailing a previous cohort's mistakes three weeks prior, and that this grandmother was furious that her gift had never reached her granddaughter.

Figuring this to be our problem to mend, as told by our quest-givers, we set out to find the issue, quickly learning the package had been delivered to the right street, but wrong house, and this misdelivery had become the talk of the neighborhood. The implied recipient, Ndidi, wanted her parcel as promised, but the actual recipient, Jatia, swore that since the package was delivered by the "Venerable Magaambya," that it was hers' by right. The object in question? An incredible Mauxi stained glass lamp, which not only cost quite a sum of gold to purchase, but to deliver intact as well.

As a collective, we debated with Jatia, both accusing her of stealing it outright, which she shamelessly denied, to appealing to her better nature, which she seemed to lack. Eager to be done with the process entirely, the quiet and stealthy Jhaan Swiftarrow crept behind the woman, and into her house, grabbing the lamp to take matters into his own hands.

In an unfortunate turn of events, the lamp slipped from his grasp, shattering upon the ground. In a flash, Jatia was screaming, the party was yelling at Jhaan, a Chime-Ringer was approaching us quickly, and I was already blocks away, eager to escape a run-in with the keepers of the law (for very good reason, I assure you, reader).

Kahara played a quick gambit of claiming ignorance to the situation, which Jatia and the Chime-Ringer accepted miraculously, and she disappeared. Pushing back a panic attack as the rest of the cohort was brought into a Chime-Ringer office for questioning, Kahara herself snuck into the woman's house, collected the shards of the lamp, and rushed them to the Magaambya campus.

There, she pleaded with Teacher Ot, begging him to help with this intensely awkward situation. He took pity on her, and wished to help her do right, and used a powerful spell of mending to repair the lamp, returning to an approximate facsimile of its previous appearance.

Lamp in hand, she returned to the neighborhood, put it directly into Ndidi's hands, claiming it fixed and eager to return it to its rightful owner, of which she was intensely grateful. Upon receiving accusatory shouts from Jatia, Kahara told her not to worry, as her lamp was broken and gone, so this lamp clearly couldn't be hers'. Unimpressed and unconvinced, she began to berate Kahara, who hastily beat a retreat.

By the end of the day, the other three escaped the Chime-Ringers' office with a warning, their punishment being sitting in a hot office awkwardly explaining their situation over and over. The three met up with your humble narrator, who had long-since rushed into a nearby tavern, taken to drink, and started a musical performance for the crowd. There, the exhausted three and the thoroughly exhausted Kahara, drank well into the evening, and crashed upon their beds the next day, well and thoroughly dreading the last task to come.