Argor casually drinks his wine as he talks with Jannicke.
"I grew up in Cheliax, in an orphanage in Ostenso. Eventually, I gained the attention of a mage by the name of Strathix, who took me on as an apprentice. He set me on the path to becoming a true conjurer, and did more to help me get established in this world than any other person I've ever met. Since I never knew my real parents, I took to calling myself 'Constantine' to honor him. Upon my twentieth year, he granted me leave to pursue my own path, while he himself intended to board a vessel for Osirion to do some research there. I felt my destiny lied somewhere with much less sand, and as such, sought out admission into the Pathfinders."
He smiles and reaches up and brushes a stray strand of hair back and behind her slightly pointed ear, adding "A decision I am glad I made. Otherwise, I would not be where I am this very moment."
Jannicke leans back a bit, away from his fingers. "The flattery is nice, but if you keep on like this I'll think your intentions are less than honorable." She frowns slightly, giving Argor a look, "You're not making me your apprentice just to get in my pants are you?"
Argor is taken aback by her accusation. "For heaven's sake, no! My offer was based purely on your aptitude for the arcane. If you feel that I have any other intentions tied to that offer, then by all means, turn it down and I will think no more on the matter."
He sets his glass of wine down and looks her directly in the eyes. "I want you to understand something, Jannicke. Yes, I do think you are a beautiful woman. I am certain the majority of the populace of this city would agree on that fact. But before all else, I respect the boundaries of a professional relationship as well as those of a more personal nature."
"If I have done anything to make you uncomfortable, I sincerely apologize. I had simply thought that, seeing as we are in a more relaxed environment, and getting to know one another more personally, that you would not take offense to a few deserving compliments. Clearly that was not the case, and I shall refrain from any further praise in that regard."
"I appreciate the compliments, Argor. Do not fear, you haven't offended me, you're just very....forward. Let's first get to know each other a good bit longer as something beyond employer and employee, and then if I like what I find...Well, I may allow you to further appreciate my beauty." She finishes her wine, and orders another. "So...you're an orphan? That must have been terrible. Forgive me if this is rude, but, do you know what happened to your parents?"
Argor shakes his head. "I was left anonymously. And life in the orphanage was not the best childhood, I must admit. I was always overlooked by families seeking to adopt for more...athletic children. Eventually, I stopped caring about the prospect of being adopted and focused entirely on studying books and avoiding the others, as they constantly sought to belittle me. One day, though, as I was being berated by one of the other orphans that had decided to torment me for several weeks, I managed to send him running with a display of my magic. That is when Strathix took notice of me. When I was cast out of the orphanage, he found me and took me in."
He takes his glass and sips down the wine before continuing, "My time in the orphanage did teach me to focus my mind and to fully mentally immerse myself in my studies, so I do not look back on that time entirely with animosity. But no, I cannot say it was a pleasant upbringing."
"So tell me, if you don't mind, from where do you get your elven heritage? You have said that you are ethnically Ulfen, yet have made no mention where your elven features originate."
"Well, that would be from my mother. I never really knew her. I have two older brothers, full humans. My father was married to a human woman but she died giving birth to the younger brother, Dannel. Years later, during one of his longer trips my father had a relationship with one of his sailors, a forlorn elven woman. She became pregnant with me, but after I was born she decided she didn't want to be a mother. She disappeared while I was still a baby, unwilling to be the landbound stepmother of two humans. I don't think she ever really loved my father to begin with." Jannicke takes a rather healthy sip of wine and pauses to catch her place. Her cheeks look a bit flushed in the torchlight as she continues, "Anyway, I was raised by him and my brothers. Them, and the servants and tutors of my father's household. It wasn't a very rough upbringing, but I know what it is to have no mother."
Argor nods silently suddenly understanding some of the woman's apprehension about his romantic advances.
So, her father had a trist with an employee, that led to her birth and her mother abandoning her. That explains some of it.
Deciding to change the subject, he then asks, "And how did you come to be friends with Harald?"
"I've been in the Foreign Quarter since I came to Absalom. It's always been my favorite. With so many different kinds of people and things mixing, it feels exciting and fresh every day. I've been coming to this bar for years, now. Eventually Harald became more than just the face on the other side of the counter," Jannicke replies. She asks him a question back, continuing their small talk. After her one drink has stretched into four, she seems to suddenly realize how long they've been sitting there talking. "Could we head back now, please? I've still got to wake up and run the manor in the morning."
"Very well, my madam," he says then settles the tab with Harald before escorting the lady back to the manor.
"Have yourself a good night. I shall see you in the morning."
__________
Once Jannicke informs Argor that she accepts his offer, he provides her with enough coin to perform the necessary ritual to summon herself a familiar or to bond herself to an item. He also provides her with a spellbook with adequate materials for her to begin scribing her own arcane tome.
Once these tasks are completed, he informs her of her new duties, including aiding in arcane research and rituals, assisting in the providing of spellcasting to the public, as well as tending to others seeking arcane council when Argor is busy.
Firstly, though, he has her locate them a new head of staff to fill her previous position.
__________
After an excruciating three weeks, the dreaded coach finally arrives. The porters haul several suitcases and bags to the front steps and then hustle back into the carriage before the horses clop away down the street. Standing in the lane leading up to the estate house is an upper-middle aged woman in a Taldan-style dress waving a small fan in her direction. She strides slowly up the walk, calmly assessing the exterior of the manor house without expression.
The replacement butler invites her in, announcing to the household, Lady Tessida Farwynd, Viscountess of Embrington, Taldor. Then, turning to the guest, she informs her, I shall fetch Miss Velorryan immediately, mum.
Since the coach's arrival, Cladissa had been in her room hyperventilating. The new butler raps insistently upon her door and finally Cladissa stumbles out, somewhat lightheaded. She mumbles an instruction to get a bottle -- no, several bottles -- of wine decanted for the evening. Then she heads downstairs with the countenance of one headed to the gallows.
Approaching from the direction of the washroom, Grommuk nearly walks past the noblewoman standing in the entryway. He pauses abruptly, mid-stride, and slowly rotates his head to look at Lady Farwynd. He smiles wide as he stares stupidly at her. High society types usually don't like to listen to him, so he elects not to speak until spoken to. He hopes Cladissa comes down soon so he can stop smiling and staring.
The new butler is very fat, probably near three hundred pounds, and somewhat homely looking. She has brown hair and lots of freckles and a little turned up button nose. Her name is Griselda Fecht, and she hails originally from Cheliax. While much friendlier and less formal than Jannicke, she seems to be an equally skilled butler.
The viscountess locks eyes with the beefy orc and tilts her head, not wavering. She holds his gaze with a neutral expression until finally a clearing of a throat draws her attention.
Cladissa steps into the room timidly, wringing her hands. Um. Hello. I see you've met Grommuk, she squeaks out.
There is a drawn-out silence as the Lady Farwynd eyes her daughter. Cladissa shifts uncomfortably, then scratches a spot on her head and chews on a nail nervously. Under the steady gaze, she cracks. Um, hi, Mom. I guess I have some explaining to do...
Without changing expression, somehow the gaze becomes more severe as Lady Farwynd processes and catalogues her daughters appearance. Finally, after a fantastically tense few moments, she opens her mouth to speak. What in the seven Elysian realms, the Nine Hells, or the infinite layers of the Abyss has happened to you?
Cladissa sways weakly, as if her mothers words made it an effort to even stand. Fighting through a mouth that has gone dry, she croaks, I took something. So I could be a Pathfinder. It changed me, she says weakly.
Another painful pause. She steps forward for a closer inspection. She reaches out and pinches a tuftful of fur and tugs, causing Cladissa to wince. She pulls back reflexively, and her tail swishes in the air. Lady Farwynd then starts poking and prodding, while Cladissa, for her part, endures the inspection.
I've never heard of such a thing. Why, you hardly look like yourself. You chose to do this to yourself? She shakes her head and cuts her off before she can respond. Nevermind that. What magics will it take to dispel this?
Cladissa separates herself and takes a couple defensive steps back. I don't know. I don't think magic can undo this.
Well, that's just great, Lady Farwynd says in clipped tones. I have four potential suitors for you to choose, including a Taldane marquis, a Galtan baron, and a Qadiran nawab. You could also be the seventh wife of an extremely wealthy Katapeshi merchant if you were so inclined, and if you didn't look like a bloody cat!
Cladissa stands stunned while her mother sighs and pinches her brow. I am weary from the journey. I need to lie down, and perhaps once I've been refreshed I can think of a solution to this predicament. She turns to the new butler and instructs her to be taken to one of the guest rooms.
After being escorted out of the foyer, Cladissa turns to Grommuk. That went so much better than I'd expected!
He seems happy, and allows his formal smile to be replaced by an actual one. Grommuk's glad to know he didn't mess up the reunion. Her mother's voice grated on the orc's nerves, and it was becoming hard to maintain his amicable facade. It's a couple of seconds before the huge orc looks down to Cladissa and asks, "What nawab mean?"
Um, probably some sort of ruler or noble. She wouldn't have mentioned him if he wasn't rich or important somehow, she answers, her head still spinning.
Cladissa moves to the parlor and sits on one of the couches, curling her feet underneath her. She looks at the striped fur running down her arms and she realizes that she doesn't want to change back. Especially if it meant her choosing one of her mother's selected suitors.
Griselda waddles over to Cladissa. "Can I fetch ya anything to drink, mistress?" The woman smiles kindly, wringing her hands sympathetically in front of her dress. She seems genuinely concerned for the the feline Pathfinder.
Hearing conversation from the living area, Argor turns to Jannicke and says, "I believe our undesired guest has arrived."
He then stands, willing his staff to him as Arctyryx takes roost upon it. He pulls his mask into position and exits the library into the den before the woman manages to depart.
He says nothing for now, but appraises the woman as she leaves with his cold, calculating gaze as she leaves the room. He had previously made it clear to Griselda that she could stay in his quarters, as all the guest rooms were occupied. His own effects had been relocated to Jannicke's chamber while he himself would be sleeping in the library for the duration of the woman's visit, which he hoped would remain brief.
Hrimnagel pads up and sits next to Cladissa. The butler's announcement of arrival brought him out of his cave. He smiles and maybe his teeth become visible before he does. Then, he says "Your mother doesn't seem very concerned about your appearance beyond its impact on your potential spouse. Maybe you have an opportunity to marry a rich and an important Catfolk?"
Cladissa accepts a glass of wine from Griselda, knocks it back in one gulp, then passes the empty glass back to her for a refill.
Looking to Hrimnagel, she smiles bitterly. She's probably thinking about that right now. She sags.
When Griselda brings her refill, she resumes her drinking at a slightly slower pace. Between sips, she asks the butler to see to her mother. After setting down the empty glass, Cladissa stands and paces while her mother's needs are seen to.
After roughly an hour passes, the Lady Farwynd steps out of the guest room, looking more refreshed though the lines on her face are still tight. Cladissa steps forward, a little more relaxed now that the wine has had time to work.
Mother, I'd like to introduce -- she turns and gestures, looking at the other Pathfinders, Grommuk, a mighty orc warrior; Hrimnagel Avaldamon, master of shadows; Argor Constantine, a, um, mighty wizard; and Nyugusk Newblossom, a chymist. We're all Pathfinders.
The severe gaze that had been on Cladissa relaxes, and Lady Farwynd nods her head politely to each as they are introduced. A pleasure to meet each of you. I apologize for my outburst earlier. My journey has been long.
Cladissa laughs nervously. That's fine, Mom. I understand. The gaze returns and bears down upon her daughter to emphasize that the apology had not been for her. Cladissa coughs lightly and looks away.
The deep gnome inclines his head at his introduction. His legs don't touch the floor from his perch on the couch, but he looks comfortable.
"Lady Farwynd. Welcome to my humble abode. I trust my quarters are comfortable enough for you?" Argor asks in a flat tone.
She offers a tight smile. Entirely adequate. Thank you.
Pleasantries over, with clipped formality she addresses her daughter. May I see you alone for a moment? Without waiting for a response, she turns and walks smoothly to her appointed room.
Cladissa exchanges uneasy glances with everyone, then follows her mother with the same exuberance as one heading to her own execution.
>>>>>
Once inside and the door is shut, Lady Farwynd looks imperiously upon her daughter. Would you care to explain yourself?
Cladissa dithers a bit. We didn't have an extra room, so Argor--
Not about that, she cuts her off impatiently. What you took. Why you would do something like this?
She slumps and looks down at her feet. I wanted to be a Pathfinder.
Lady Farwynd scoffs. That silly group. I only allowed it because sometimes they have influence. Cladissa looks up and almost says something about being allowed to join, but stays silent. If I had known something like this would be the result...
Cladissa looks back down. Auronee's a Pathfinder too, you know.
Did she ... "take something?"
No.
A scathingly disappointed sigh. Well then. Why don't you think magic can help?
Cladissa looks up timidly. Well, it wasn't magic that did this. It was some sort of fluid found in Numeria. Argor and Nyugusk believe it can be controlled.
That got her attention. Controlled? By whom?
Me, I guess. I think right now, it's just following some sort of pattern. Each time it hits, I get more catlike. But Argor was able to reverse his changes the last time.
Lady Farwynd thinks for a few moments. Then she nods, a decision made. Well, you will work on trying to reverse the changes. I will see what I can do about your suitors. At least the Katapeshi would expect you to be properly veiled, so that will give us additional time. She looks behind her daughter. And a sharp blade will take care of that appendage.
Cladissa looks shocked. You'd cut off my tail!?
Only if it's necessary. How else would you attract a proper suitor?
Remembering Hrimnagel's words, Cladissa offers, I suppose you could find a catfolk of suitable rank?
Real anger this time. I will not have kittens as my future grandchildren!
Cladissa sways, the wine she'd consumed earlier suddenly making her feel woozy. Lady Farwynd moves closer, eyes narrowed. Work with Mr. Constantine. Find out how he reversed his changes. That's all you need to worry about.
She nods timidly, and turns to leave.
<<<<
Cladissa leaves her mother's room, stumbling. She avoids the eyes of the other Pathfinders, looking devastated. Slowly she pads over to Argor. In a small voice, she asks, Could you tell me your insights on the formula and how you were able to control it?
Without looking up from the tome, he asks, "Why the sudden interest?"
He already knew the answer, but he wanted to make Cladissa say it so she could here how ridiculous it sounded.
Well, you know. To control it. I need to... she trails off and looks away.
"To what?"
Argor raises an eyebrow as he inclines his head slightly to watch Cladissa's response.
She looks uncomfortable. To be ready for the next time the changes arrive. So I'll know what to do.
"As I've said before, it is only a theory, but I focused all of my will into trying to control it, and it seemed to work. Though clearly not completely as my eyes are still discolored. But I have to ask, is this something you want," he then sets his book down and folds his hands in front of him, "or your mother?"
He rises and walks to the window before continuing, "One day, Cladissa, you will need to start living for yourself, and be rid of the shackles your family has placed upon you by crushing your self worth. Your let your sister belittle you with her attitude, and you let your mother treat you as nothing more than a glorified prostitute, the way she haggles with marrying you off. You are so far beyond the two of them that it is sickening to watch you suffer under their oppression."
He then turns and looks her in the eyes and says, "So tell me, is this what you want, or your mother?"
Cladissa's face twists in anger. What does it matter? Besides, it's not like I asked to look like this. The formula's doing this, not me. And if I can manage to control it, why not go back to the way I looked before? Why is this better?
She folds her arms in front of her, fuming. Before Argor can speak again, she adds, And it's not that Mother is whoring me out like you say. She's looking after me; making sure I can be taken care of. After Dad was killed and we had to flee Galt, she promised me that. She punctuates that with a petulant harrumph.
Argor says, "Well, I suppose that is one way to look at it," before turning around and facing the witch.
"And frankly, my dear, I do think it matters. The consequences of the serum are vast, and if my theory is correct, and that it has latched onto key aspects of our beings, then in your particular case, the possibilities are quite complex. As I've said before, it appears to me that the serum is manipulating your connection to your familiar."
He walks over to the desk and has a seat once again. "Certainly, it could be possible that you could will it to return you to a more humanesque form, with no repercussions. Alternatively, it could sever your link to your reservoir of arcane power, by severing your connection to the familiar. Or, it could go terribly wrong and turn you into a puddle as it did the good Doctor months ago. Or any other number of possibilities, both good and bad."
He narrows his gaze at her, then adds, "Also, there is the risk of not establishing complete control because, deep down, it is not you who is motivated to take control, but rather you bending to someone else's whims and desires."
He then smiles and adds, "However, I do believe I know of a way to negate the negative visual aspects of the transformation, though it would be expensive, and it may not prove to be a permanent solution, but if it is the route you wish to take, and you are willing to invest the coin in the endeavor, I would be willing to lend you assistance in it's incantation."
Nyugusk is scarce around the manor for the first several days.
Fascinated with his recent discovery of a means to brew mutagens that convey some advantageous qualities from animals, he goes into the Society's stacks, looking for more. When he reads a reference to a related set of notes, The Journal Of The Beast Within, he spends a long day visiting various dealers in antiquities.
When he finally gets his orcish paws on it, he's tense with excitement. He finds the nearest bench and starts to devour the stained and scribbled journal. There's so much of interest here, so much to learn! Look here! And this, would it really work as she suggests?!?
He stays planted there for hours, until finally the light is too dim for him to continue. With a sigh, he heads back to the manor.
He catches the tail end of Cladissa's worries, though it takes several minutes for him to understand what exactly she's concerned about.
"Oh wait, I get it! Your mother is more concerned about appearances than true perfection, is that right? What an important error to correct! I'd be more than happy to discuss the matter with her. Has she read Unbinding The Fetters? It's a challenging read -- no text of the Master of Masters' faith is straightforward, I'll grant you, though myself I found it more accessible than the Azvadeva Pujila, and at any rate it's well worth the effort.
"Why don't you buy your mother a copy, and let her know you'd like to discuss the primacy of self-perfection? (I can lend you my copy, if you want to read it yourself, but I'll need it back.) Anyway, once you've both read it, you'll have a great basis to discuss the importance of striving for personal perfection, and the illusory nature of outward appearances.
"Irori achieved his self-perfection through meditation and exercise, of course, and it seems many of his faithful get stuck in the rut of only considering that same set of avenues -- but I'm sure all of us can attest that to limit oneself so is rather small-minded. Why, imagine if Irori had had access to the alchemical advances of our era? Which brings me to these notes I just discovered, The Journal of the Beast Within. The serum that's transforming our very humors and granting us these extraordinary abilities -- I believe there's great untapped potential in this serum for further transformation. Who knows how close it can take us toward eventual self-perfection!
"It's breathtaking isn't it? Just let me know when is best and I'll be delighted to teach your mother about the possibilities. Hopefully over the next few days I'll make more advances on these formulae, and have more details to share with her as well."
The tusky alchemist goes back to thumbing through his recent find as Cladissa follows her mother out of the room, but when she comes back in distraught he says,
"Cladissa, did you try to explain to your mother about the untold possibility of self-perfection through chymistry? If you want me to assist, I'd be quite willing."
Cladissa's mind whirls as she contemplates the possible outcomes that Argor had outlined. Then her head continues to spin from the wine so she presses a palm to her temple and reaches for a wall to steady herself.
She moves to a spot and sits down, burying her face in her hands. I guess. Is it that disguise spell you talked about? she looks up briefly. Maybe you should talk with Mother about it. She might be able to cover the expenses.
She wallows in her own defeat for several minutes while Argor looks on. Through the buzz of the alcohol, she looks at the wizard and points a finger at him. You know, you're so lucky you know what you want. "To be the greatest wizard." It's cliche, but at least it's simple. What do I want? What am I supposed to want?
Argor looks back at her with an incredulous look, "Why would you think that is what I want? Such petty desires are far beneath what I have planned..." he trails off a moment before continuing, "...but no, the disguise spell is not what I had intended. It's changes are actually physical in nature, not a mere illusion."
The tusky alchemist goes back to thumbing through his recent find as Cladissa follows her mother out of the room, but when she comes back in distraught he says,
"Cladissa, did you try to explain to your mother about the untold possibility of self-perfection through chymistry? If you want me to assist, I'd be quite willing."
Cladissa swallows hard at Nyugusk's suggestion. Um, no, I didn't think to mention that. I don't think she's the self-perfectionist sort.
Argor looks back at her with an incredulous look, "Why would you think that is what I want? Such petty desires are far beneath what I have planned..." he trails off a moment before continuing, "...but no, the disguise spell is not what I had intended. It's changes are actually physical in nature, not a mere illusion."
Oh, she says simply. She tries to think, but finds it increasingly difficult. So I'd physically change back to what I used to be? She reaches to adjust her nonexistent glasses, and surprises herself at the old habit. I'd need new lenses, I guess. She breathes deeply through her nose a few times, closing her eyes to focus on the scents she can now detect.
Her eyes open slightly. Maybe... she whispers, maybe you don't need to mention that to Mother just yet.
I think I need to go to bed, she announces. Standing back up on unsteady feet, she starts to move toward her room.
Nyugusk shrugs. "I guess it's no surprise that so few mortals achieve Irori's greatness, even now that he's shown it's possible."
Then, turning to Argor, he says "In that case, let me show you these notes. They're written in reference to an alchemist's mutagen of course, but I think there's some true brilliance to them. Perhaps they can form some sort of foundation for our investigation into the nature of this serum, and how to best magnify it's effects on us."
Argor takes the notes and begins to look through them.
__________
Cladissa stumbles into her room, where she meets the eyes of her familiar, eyeing her from the spot where he is lounging on the bookcase. What do you want? she spits at him, but he simply lays his head down and closes his eyes.
She pulls off her clothes to get ready for bed, but pauses as she catches her reflection in the mirror. She had started to get used to it; the head-to-toe fur, the misshapen legs ending in soft cat's paws, the tail swishing about reflexively. More than getting used to it, she was starting to like it. She was sleek and exotic. Who cared if it turned her mother's suitors away? Why should she change for them?
The alcoholic buzz intensified. She would go and tell her mother just that. She would tell her she was keeping her tail and there was nothing she could do about it. She would--
Cladissa collapses and passes out.
As Nyugusk approaches, he can see several notes on the desk in the library that Argor has been pouring over. He makes no attempt to hide them as he flips through the book of formulas that Nyugusk handed him.
A casual observation can make out that they appear to be notes on available real estate in the city, with notes in the margins regarding potential alterations and upgrades to the establishment to create some sort of academic institution, one that apparently will have facilities for summoning, scrying, libraries, alchemy labs, just about anything that would be required for advancing ones knowledge in matters of the arcane.
Eventually, Argor finishes looking over the tome and says, "Well, I do think that some of the things in here are interesting, but I fail to see how they impact the manipulation of the serum affecting us. This appear to have more practical applications to the concoctions you and your ilk develop."
He nonchalantly hands the tome back to the alchemist before adding, "Though, if you do happen across any insight into the workings of the serum in your testing, do let me know. And do be careful in your experimentation. I know that you are all too familiar with what happened with the last alchemist who risked tinkering with the serum directly."
The next morning, the Lady Farwynd tolerates a breakfast with the Pathfinders. The wife of a diplomat, she remains engaged as Nyugusk enthusiastically explains his theories of self-perfection through chymistry. She even reacts with interest as he demonstrates his extended reach and other mutations.
Meanwhile, Cladissa wakes with a pounding headache. She at first thinks another change was starting, but recalls her overindulgence last night with a groan. Griselda arrives and provides her with one of Mr. Goodpies' morning restoratives. After gulping down the foul-tasting concoction, she starts to feel better enough to join everyone else downstairs.
Cladissa steps into the dining room, and after her mother gives her a nod, she takes a seat next to her. Mr. Goodpies sets one of her favorite dishes in front of her -- fish poached in heavy cream -- and she begins eating quietly.
After a several minutes where everyone eats in silence, Cladissa works up the nerve to speak. Mother, I've been thinking, she begins.
The Lady Farwynd gives her a warning look. That's not important right now. I have decided to stay in Absalom for a while, until you have another "episode" with that serum. Let's see if you manage to control it this time. Perhaps Mr. Newblossom's chymistry can assist.
Cladissa looks at her mother for a long time. Finally, she swallows and asks, Will you be... staying here?
Heavens, no. I will rent some place nearby. You may stay here and work with Mr. Constantine and Mr. Newblossom on your situation.
Cladissa looks down at her plate. Yes, ma'am, she mumbles.
"Has Cladissa mentioned to you what happened to the first person that tampered with the serum?" Argor asks.
Without waiting for a reply, he says, "There was another of our number, shortly before Mr. Newblossom joined us, that also practiced in such things. A doctor in fact, though I know not where or how he received such qualification. On our first mission, he liquified. Dissolved into nothing more than a puddle of bodily fluid and ooze. Such are the risks we are dealing with, here. And they are risks I refuse to put someone through without their consent, given of their own motivations," concluding his speech with a cold stare fixed on Cladissa.
No, she hasn't, Lady Farwynd says in an accusatory tone, and glares at Cladissa, who tries to shrink in her chair and avoids the eyes upon her.
Shoulders hunched and staring down at her plate, Cladissa offers in a timid voice, Maybe we shouldn't rush things too much. There's still a lot we don't know.
Lady Farwynd gives her a sidelong glance, lips pressed together into a tight line. Well. I suppose I am to just wait until you figure this out? What am I to do, then?
Without looking up, she answers hoarsely, You don't have to do anything, Mom.
She gives her daughter a withering stare.
"She is absolutely correct," Argor says as he stares at Lady Farwynd. "Cladissa has done nothing to warrant your embarrassment or negative opinion of her. She is a very capable mistress of the arcane, and has proven a very talented Pathfinder. If you are only concerned with her appearance, then that is truly a pity. In the span of a few months, we not only saved Absalom from an undead invasion, but also prevented it from a hideous jungle curse, rescued another pathfinder, as well as a helpless young girl long thought dead. What, pray tell. Is there to be ashamed of in those actions?"
Lady Farwynd's expression becomes very controlled as she returns Argor's stare. She laces her fingers together and places them in her lap. Nothing at all. I am not concerned with her appearance, except that how it will influence her future well-being.
Mom, please, Cladissa says, her eyes shut and head down. Tears begin welling out of their corners. You can't help me with this. You should probably go.
Do you realize what I've sacrificed for you?
Not looking up, Yes. I'm sorry.
Lady Farwynd nods to the others at the table. Thank you for your hospitality. She stands up and excuses herself from the table and moves to the foyer. I'll have someone sent for my bags, she tells Griselda.
Shortly after Cladissa's mother makes her exit, a messenger arrives in Pathfinder Society livery. "You are summoned to the great meeting hall of the Grand Lodge, Pathfinders," he informs the group. After gathering their things, and getting ready, the group makes the short walk to the Grand Lodge.
Once there, they are informed they will be meeting with Venture Captain Alissa Moldreserva. They make their way through the corridors of the Lodge to the hall.
Venture-Captain Alissa Moldreserva, a fiery red-headed woman who climbed from the depths of Galtan revolution to become one of the Society’s finest (and most well-connected) venture captains, stands in the great meeting hall of the Grand Lodge. She stares down her hawkish nose and sighs.
"I ask for the best and they send me you....Lucky me! The Society’s best contact in Osirion, Grand Ambassador Dremdhet Salhar, informed me this morning that his lovely Chelish wife, the Lady Anilah Salhar, was kidnapped and sold into slavery."
"Normally, I wouldn’t care a bulette’s eyeball about who was or was not enslaved in Absalom, but Salhar is the Society’s best avenue for acquiring all of the necessary official paperwork to make our frequent delves into the tombs of Osirion cheap and legal. This is a relationship we want to preserve and since the Ambassador made it clear that our status is in jeopardy, I’ve been instructed to send our best agents to find her and return her safely to Salhar."
"I guess you’ll do," she says doubtfully, with one eyebrow raised and a slight sneer.
"Salhar hasn’t sat idle since his wife was taken—his own agents are prowling the streets and dug up one possible lead. A one-eyed Andoren, a grit junky named Fredrik, is known for selling or helping to sell nobility into foreign markets that desire house slaves. Being enormously illegal, this trade makes Fredrik a fair bit of coin that Salhar’s agents assure me all go straight into the pockets of the Second Chance, a grit den dockside in Puddles. That’s all I have to get you started. Go quickly. The fate of our Osirian exploits is in your hands.”