Little is known of the history of the first human civilization, other than the sad story of its destruction. Myths tell of an ancient war between the Azlanti and a race known as the serpentfolk. The Azlanti are said to have driven their enemies off the face of Golarion and into the Darklands. In the war's final battle, Savith, an Azlanti hero beheaded the serpent god Ydersius in the Darklands realm of Sekamina. It is also rumored that exiles of Azlant founded the empire of Thassilon. Whatever the truth of that Myth, recent rumors of the discovery of a "Lost Island" in the Arcadian Ocean fuel rumors that Azlant has been re-discovered...
Once you heard of the Expedition to Azlant you believed, as most may have, that the Pathfinder Society itself was funding it. That is not the case you discovered arriving at Almas in Andoran. You were denied passage upon the mere mention of the society and watched the Liberty’s Herald ail out from the docks!
Venture Captain Brackett, who heads the Almas Lodge suggested that you visit Absolom if you wished to be on the next ship set to sail, the Peregrine.
You smile to yourself when Society members that meet "young" Sharaya was named after the lost Chelaxian heir, if only they knew!
The Grand Lodge is a massive fortress, easily one of the biggest privately owned strongholds in the city. Established 400 years ago, it contains extensive grounds surrounded by a tall stone wall with a single, huge main gate (which is very rarely closed, and is decorated with the Gylph of the Open Road), many yards and outbuildings, and a series of Major Halls. It sits in front of one of the larger plazas in the Foreign District, ringed with shops that cater to adventurers of all stripes. The wall encircles seven sturdy stone fortresses of different architectural periods, the largest of which—Skyreach—is an enormous, white, five-towered palace that stretches high above the others structures and the surrounding city.
You enter the side gate as most Society members are won't to do as you enter there are several dozen agents already here. Kreighton Shaine, Master of Scrolls, is standing at a makeshift podium in the Courtyard and appears to be meeting with those assembled and jotting down notes.
You've kept yourself out of the loop a bit, by design so you do not recognize anyone here besides the Master of Scrolls.
Once you heard of the Expedition to Azlant you believed, as most may have, that the Pathfinder Society itself was funding it. Thus, did you hustle to Absolom hoping to be included among the Society members who would be selected for this possibly once in a lifetime opportunity!
You enter the side gate as most Society members are won't to do as you enter there are several dozen agents already here. Kreighton Shaine, Master of Scrolls, is standing at a makeshift podium in the Courtyard and appears to be meeting with those assembled and jotting down notes.
"This is it, this is what you have been waiting your whole life for. This is what I spent the last two decades waiting, no hoping for. The chance to reach Azlant with actual support and the Godsdamned Andorans have cut us out!
Not to worry my boy, the Decemvirate have a plan to put Society Members on the next ship, Peregrine. That is what all the activity down below is about. Once more not to worry, though they are taking applications to select only a handful of Society Members to infiltrate this next journey, I've pulled strings, you were already selected to go".
Seeker Osprey sent you here. This is it, no more learning history from books, this is direct source material for one of the greatest mysteries the world has known, what happened to Azlant? Assuming you are picked for this mission, you will be one of the first to know in the modern age. One of the first to uncover relics not seen in thousands of years. First, you must get to the Grand Lodge!
The Grand Lodge is as you remember it, a massive fortress, easily one of the biggest privately owned strongholds in the city. Established 400 years ago, it contains extensive grounds surrounded by a tall stone wall with a single, huge main gate (which is very rarely closed, and is decorated with the Gylph of the Open Road), many yards and outbuildings, and a series of Major Halls. It sits in front of one of the larger plazas in the Foreign District, ringed with shops that cater to adventurers of all stripes. The wall encircles seven sturdy stone fortresses of different architectural periods, the largest of which—Skyreach—is an enormous, white, five-towered palace that stretches high above the others structures and the surrounding city.
You enter the side gate as most Society members are won't to do as you enter there are several dozen agents already here. Kreighton Shaine, Master of Scrolls, is standing at a makeshift podium in the Courtyard and appears to be meeting with those assembled and jotting down notes.
For a moment, your eyes glaze over and you remember the moment that set you on this quest...
---
This is weird, even for Osprey to sit in a rickety boat this far off of the coast of Diobel with seemingly no intended purpose. Though you suppose if you could shift into a bird or a fish with a mere thought as the Seeker can you'd be comfortable out here but you can't so you're not.
Finally you ask what exactly you are both doing out here.
Acclimating he tells you.
For what you ask.
For your trip he responds.
What trip you ask?
The most important of your lifetime, he retorts.
Is this a mission?
Indeed, it is also a life's work and perhaps more Tosen.
Osprey sighs, he never sighs. If I give it to you, will you keep it safe and return it to me.
What?
He hands you his Wayfinder. That is when you knew that this day in the sea was purposeful and not just some eccentricity from Osprey. Something was brewing, something big.
---
You've traveled so much and been away so long you do not recognize anyone here besides the Master of Scrolls.
Torch, always so eloquent.
So of course, you got a hat despite how ridiculous it looks. You know the Society has a love/hate relationship with Torch so your visits to the Grand Lodge, though not always welcome, are never denied by the Masters that "run" the Lodge on behalf of the Decemvirate.
You enter the side gate as most Society members are won't to do as you enter there are several dozen agents already here. Kreighton Shaine, Master of Scrolls, is standing at a makeshift podium in the Courtyard and appears to be meeting with those assembled and jotting down notes.
You see many Pathfinders that you know personally. Some certainly more seasoned than you. However, Torch assured you that the Decemvirate will pick you but you had to sign up. So here you are, to sign up to go to Azlant. An island in the middle of the ocean, this Expedition needed someone like you even if they didn't know it yet.
Venture Captain Brackett, who heads the Almas Lodge suggested that you visit Absolom if you wished to be on the next ship set to sail, the Peregrine.
To Absolom the City at the Center of the World, you have sailed. Walking the same cobblestoned streets that countless Pathfinder's before you have walked, including your Uncle at one time in the Foreign Quarter. Normally you'd explore this place of wonders but now your sights are set on a greater prize.
The Grand Lodge is a massive fortress, easily one of the biggest privately owned strongholds in the city. Established 400 years ago, it contains extensive grounds surrounded by a tall stone wall with a single, huge main gate (which is very rarely closed, and is decorated with the Gylph of the Open Road), many yards and outbuildings, and a series of Major Halls. It sits in front of one of the larger plazas in the Foreign District, ringed with shops that cater to adventurers of all stripes. The wall encircles seven sturdy stone fortresses of different architectural periods, the largest of which—Skyreach—is an enormous, white, five-towered palace that stretches high above the others structures and the surrounding city.
You enter the side gate as you were instructed to do by Venture Captain Brackett. As you enter there are several dozen agents already here! Kreighton Shaine, Master of Scrolls, is standing at a makeshift podium in the Courtyard and appears to be meeting with those assembled and jotting down notes. Though you've not met him in person before, he was described to you with stunning accuracy by Brackett. As you look around...
Looming before you is the the Grand Lodge of Absolom. A massive fortress, easily one of the biggest privately owned strongholds in the city. Established 400 years ago, it contains extensive grounds surrounded by a tall stone wall with a single, huge main gate (which is very rarely closed, and is decorated with the Gylph of the Open Road), many yards and outbuildings, and a series of Major Halls. It sits in front of one of the larger plazas in the Foreign District, ringed with shops that cater to adventurers of all stripes. The wall encircles seven sturdy stone fortresses of different architectural periods, the largest of which—Skyreach—is an enormous, white, five-towered palace that stretches high above the others structures and the surrounding city.
You enter the side gate as you were instructed to do by Venture Captain Petulengro. As you enter there are several dozen agents already here! Kreighton Shaine, Master of Scrolls, is standing at a makeshift podium in the Courtyard and appears to be meeting with those assembled and jotting down notes. Though you've not met him in person before, he was described to you with stunning accuracy by Petulengro. As you look around you do not see a soul you recognize here.
Still, you believe your accomplishments, limited as they may be, will prevail to earn you a spot on the trip to Azlant! All you need to do, is get your name on those rolls.
"Master Shaine! I see you are working diligently to organize all of this. Please, sign me up. Oh...Master Torch sends his regards as well."
Varloo broadly winks as he says the last, and chuckles at his own dark humor.
Sharaya walks up so she can hear what Kreighton is saying, planning on getting her name on the passenger list. No other ship is going to turn her away. She might have to improvise, but she's determined.
Diomedes could hardly contain his excitement. At last, here it was, his chance to maybe, just maybe, alter his fate. He tried to keep calm, having learned not to count his eggs before they hatch. He wasn't the foolish rube Dreng had offered to train two years ago. He was a scholar and an agent, with confidence from experience, not ignorance.
"Thank you, sir. I can't tell you how much this means to me, but I know you understand. I won't let you, or the Pathfinders, down." Or my father.
Bann's hand itched a little from excitement, though he kept his eyes forward, trying to appear calm.
This was all quite a lot to take in. He had seen many places while sailing under that bastard, Godrite, but Absalom seemed to stand in a league of its own. Not to mention the task at hand.
Rght, first thing is first. I need to make contact with Master Shaine.
Looking about for a few moments to better take in his surroundings, his eyes finally settle on the Scrollmaster and there they remain intently, as Bann then approaches the Scrollmaster with presented confidence. He stands as close as he might, as not to be rude, and patiently awaits. Seeking either to hear information or the attention of Kreighton Shaine himself.
Harul had been rather surprised by the sudden and rather abrupt way he'd been rebuffed from joining the expedition. After all, he had quite the resumè of exploration, and he had a decent amount of fighting skill. Still, he supposed the Bountiful Venture Company operated under the assumption that the Pathfinder Society was little more than organized tomb robbers and criminals - not true, but there were those who painted them that way.
Looking around the chamber, he's amazed at the number of Pathfinders here. He suspected that they were all here for the same reason he was. He wondered if they would have to go through a test to determine who got to go on the voyage.
Looking to the Master of Scrolls, he leaned on his fauchard and stood, waiting.
Tosen takes in the sights and people before moving towards the back of the group. He waits patiently for his turn before the master. It did not matter who was first or last in this case. They would pick the best suited, not the most impulsive. If he was worthy or not was not in his hands and as such pointless to attempt to influence the outcome. Still uncertainty crept in, he pushed it away. Instead he drew out a tome and started to make notes on everyone around him. Starting with a sketch of their physical appearance using a bit of charcoal. Taking in every detail from the more physically developed to the more lean. Anyone looking over his shoulder would find a strangely life lack rendering with notes more suited to a bestiary then observations of people.
Lorik Brightwater, son of scholars and now a tried and true Pathfinder, examined himself in the mirror. His hat was crisp, one side side pinned. His crimson plume was bright and striking and full. Lorik's armor was clean and polished, and his brother's sword looked, as it always did, as if it were ready for a parade.
The inn he was staying at was close to the Grand Lodge, though it was not particularly high class. Still, it more than served his purpose, offering affordable rates and perfectly acceptable food and drink. Lorik wasn't planning on staying long; after he made sure he was bound for Azlant, he would be leaving.
Finishing his preparations, Lorik made to leave, an even greater spring than usual in his step. He loved his family dearly, but none more so than his older brother, Lothenlieth, a fellow Pathfinder. Long had been the day that Lorik had longed not to study history, as most of his family, but discover and make it himself. That was why he had followed in Lothenlieth's footsteps, and today felt like a day of destiny.
Lorik made his way to the Lodge and slipped in the side door, observing the crowd in front of Master Shaine. Lorik moved over, planning on getting close to the Master of Scrolls to hear what he was saying.
Absolom - the Grand Lodge
One by one as you all approach, you quickly discover that everyone here is trying to get selected by the Society to get onto that Expedition, the catch, there's only seven slots...
Head down to the Great Hall, those who signed up are gathering there now. Mingle, see if you find anyone worthy of signing on. We've six more slots to fill".
Once sign ups are complete Kreighton Shaine makes an announcement, "If I did not mention it, there will be separate interviews. Not only for us to verify membership, though I am sure you are all on the rolls. Your performance on this interview will give us an indication of how well you do on the next, the one you'll need to pass to get on board the Peregrine. There is food and drink at the Great Hall in Skyreach, we will begin promptly at noon, in alphabetical order".
As the initial sign ups are completed, the mass of potential crewmen (and crew-women) head towards Skyreach.
"Just signing up, Master!"
Lorik was still largely unsure of the overall situation, but felt that was the right response. After Kreighton spoke, Lork nodded, making his way on over to the Great Hall.
Once there, he decided to take some food and drink, and couldn't help but scan the assembled for pretty lasses or interesting folk.
Kreighton, good to see you. I'm here to sign up. I was at Almas and they denied me passage on the Liberty's Herald because I mentioned the Society. I don't intend to be denied again. Any idea why they would be Anti-Society?
After waiting for Kreighton's response, Sharaya proceeds to the Great Hall.
Spinning his 'new' hat around in a clownish manner as he returns it to his bald head, Varloo grimaces at the oldster, then smirks again and give the man a little bow.
"Touche' Master Shaine! I will endevour to make a dent in the available vittles until time approaches for my....interview."
Seeing the quickly growing crowd, Varloo slowly heads towards Skyreach and some cool ale. Looking back he notices a dark-haired Chelaxian lady leaving the podium-master looking anxious, so he give the woman a wolfish grin and whisks his pathetic hat off his bald head again as she moves by.
"May I help you find whatever you are looking for my lady? You seem worried about the selection process? Maybe I can help somehow? We can go find ourselves something cool to drink in the shade and discuss it..."
May I help you find whatever you are looking for my lady? You seem worried about the selection process? Maybe I can help somehow? We can go find ourselves something cool to drink in the shade and discuss it...
You mistake my expression, sir. I am not at all worried.
She looks at him, considering.
However, as long as the shade is within the Great Hall, I would be happy to join you for a drink, non-alcoholic of course. I wouldn't want either of us to miss our interviews. My name is Sharaya.
Tosen ponders the question for a mere moment before responding.
"That really depends on how you look at it Master Shaine. From my perspective I would say both, granted I do not know which of us is more invested."
He waits for a response or dismissal, thinking more on the question in the meantime.
"I am not, Master Shaine. My name is Harul Safan, and I am seeking a place on the Expedition - as are many others, I am sure. My uncle, Colm, perished while exploring the Ravenous Sphinx, and I hope this expedition provides similar discoveries as he unearthed." Harul signs his name, then moves aside to allow others to approach.
Once they are dismissed, Harul begins moving towards Skyreach. So, we are to be interviewed in preparation for the Company's interviews. Hopefully it will be different interviewers than when I tried the first time, so as not to know I am part of the Society. They were very unwelcoming of my presence.
Once in the Great Hall, he takes a mug of ale and a small assortment of fruits before looking about to see if anyone he knows is there.
Diomedes takes a quick stroll around the meeting area, observing the gathered group. Honestly, he wasn't expecting this many people to be applying, but it is quite an opportunity. He grabs a light snack as he passes by the lunch set-up, wrinkling his nose a bit as he tries the fois-gras.
A bald man with an outrageous hat accompanying an attractive Chelaxian woman approach the table as well. "That hat is wearing you, sir. I commend the bold choice," he chuckles. He just couldn't help himself, and judging by the man's smile, hopes that he will take it in the spirit of merriment. His own face wears a broad, welcoming grin.
He whispers conspiratorially, "Please, do yourselves a favor, and avoid the pate. Your stomachs will thank me. But the cheeses are excellent."
Please, do yourselves a favor, and avoid the pate. Your stomachs will thank me. But the cheeses are excellent.
Sharaya smiles, and says Thank you for the advice. My name is Sharaya. Perhaps you would like to join us at a table?
If he agrees, she gathers some food, proceeds to a table with them, and asks So, tell me how you two come to be here.
If he doesn't agree, she does the same, but only with Varloo. (Neither have given their names to this point in the narrative, but she will use names if she has them.)
Diomedes inclines his head. "Delighted. And my name is Diomedes. Pleasure to meet you both."
He grabs a few more delectables on the way to their table. "How did I come to be here? Much the same as many I suppose. Chance to study the famed land of the Azlanti, to bring information back to the Guild, quietly of course, to discover hidden secrets. I've actually spent the past several years studying many of the relics of Azlant, learning to translate the language. It's quite interesting."
He takes a couple of bites of his food, washing it down with some sort of punch, he's not quite sure what it is. "How about you? What brings you to join in the competition?"
Lorik, looking around the room, caught sight of a rather interesting hat. Being a hat man himself, he decided to make his way over and say hello...
And stopped, ten paces away, shocked by what he'd seen.
It had been years....decades. But he couldn't possibly forget the face of Sharaya Solistar.
Lorik shook his head. It simply couldn't be her. She'd be a hundred years old, at least, but gods above, she looked so similar it almost pained him.
Composing himself, he caught a bit of their conversation, then made his way over.
"I can't help but agree about the pate...tried it a week ago and spent the better part of the next day praying for a swift death rather than what it did to my insides! That Brevoy Cheddar, though, now there's a treat and no mistake! My pardon for the interruption; perhaps you wouldn't object to a mite more company? It's nice to meet some people that have a common interest in Azlant."
Lorik nodded to Diomedes, flashing a charming smile, before fluidly switching languages.
Lorik cleared his throat, switching back to Common, not wanting to appear rude.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Lorik Brightwater, at your service."
"How about you? What brings you to join in the competition?"
Pleased. I'm only here because my passage was denied at Almas, after I mentioned the society. That will not happen again here.
When Lorik inserts himself and speaks in Azlanti, Sharaya replies, smiling:
I think you will find that much more common in this company than you might expect.
I think you will find that much more common in this company than you might expect.
Diomedes laughs out loud. "Ha! Well spoken, m'lady." He grins broadly and offers his hand to Lorik. "Always happy to meet a fellow polyglot and connoisseur of fine cheese. Do join us, Mr. Brightwater. Diomedes, at your service. And may I present Miss Sharaya; am I saying that right?"
When Sharaya hears the name Brightwater, she goes silent for a few seconds, considering, but she quickly recovers and responds to Diomedes:
Yes, that's right. It's [shar-EYE-uh].
To Lorik
Pleased to meet you, Lorik. You look to be the trustworthy sort.
Sharaya tastes the punch and seems to like it, but says what is this? because she's doesn't remember tasting anything like it before.
Lorik grins and takes Diomedes hand, giving it a firm and friendly shake.
He goes to take a seat and when Diomedes utters the name Sharaya, his eyes widen for a moment. Other than that, he gives no sign of having heard anything usual.
Lorik dialed up the charm, responding to Sharaya.
"The only time I'm not to be trusted is when I'm pursuing a fair lass or lad. Then, well, all's fair in love and war, as they say!"
Lorik eyed the punch, sniffing it a bit.
"I think it's some type of fruit...perhaps guava? It grows in tropical climes. And I couldn't agree more, Diomedes! It takes a clever tongue to appreciate languages and cheese...and other things of course! I must say, I much prefer a fine Chelish vintage with my cheese...I had a delightful Wiscrani claret, just the other day! Damnedest color, it looked like someone melted a ruby and put it in a bottle. More mellow than you'd expect, though, and simply exquisite with the cheese...sorry," Lorik said, a bit sheepish. "I guess I'm a bit of a food and wine snob! I could ramble on for hours. Not everyone is interested in such things, though. Although, speaking of Chelish...Sharaya, was it? That's a Chelish name, unless I miss my guess."
Lorik sat back, taking a glass of the odd punch, appearing for all the world that he was quite nonchalant.
Oh, Lorik. I can see right through you. I'm quite obviously from Cheliax, <She gestures to her body that is basically the poster-child epitome of the Chelish ideal of beauty> but don't worry. I won't bore you with the politics, but suffice it to say: I'm no devil worshipper. You have nothing to fear from me... at least in that regard.
She turns to Diomedes Tell us about some of the Azlanti relics that you have been studying. I'm quite interested.
Bann, a slight smile touching his lips, nods.
"Bann Drarks, thankee. From Woodsedge Lodge. "
With that business out of the way he quickly moves to find a place near the rear of the crowd to wait and watch for any announcements.
After the announcement, Bann will move towards the Great Hall, ignoring and side glances he might receive for his heritage...
Food, and drink, for now, worries of success or failure will happen after I know which to concern myself with.
While in the midst of gathering a plate and goblet, Bann can't help but notice the growing Quartet of individuals.
What in the name of Besmara is the meaning of that feather, is it a hat?
After pausing for a second and considering the group, curiosity having gripped him for a moment, Bann gives into his more secluded nature and finds a place in a corner where he can eat, contemplate, and observe.
Diomedes pulls out a small wineskin from his belt. "Pray continue, Sharaya, but I want you both to try a sip of this. I only have a small amount with me, but I guarantee you'll thank me." He pours out a finger of wine for each of the them and then adds one for himself as well. "I call it, Porthmos Port. Only a handful of casks were made, sort of a proof of concept if you will. It's a sweet white; I imagine it will go very well with this fruit."
No, thank you. Must keep my wits about me for the interview.
Fairly noncommittal up to this point, Varloo finally introduces himself now that the gaggle is surrounding the pretty Sharaya. Spinning the simple hat around this finger as he sips some cool ale, Varloo nods and smiles that wide smile again.
"I'm not much of a food, drink, or hat connoisseur...having been born a slave means I just appreciate a full stomach and strong drink whenever I can get it. My master suggested the hat however. I'm still trying to decide if I like it or not. I'm used to feeling the wind and rain. That's half the fun of a journey! Oh, and I'm Varloo Grimtide by the way. I'm here to join up for the voyage myself as well...mainly because it was 'suggested' to me by my Master."
Varloo smirks looking off into the distance and continues.
"When Grandmaster Torch 'suggests' something...you generally WANT to do it. Especially if he says that it's really for your own benefit."
Lorik shrugged.
"My family is not exactly from Cheliax, but it's close enough. The whole 'Empire of Devils' thing is really quite blown out of proportion! Most folk there, in my estimation, are the same as most folk anywhere; trying to make their way in the world."
Lorik took the drink offered by Diomedes, raising his glass to the man before putting to the drink to his lips.
"Your health."
Lorik sipped the wine, swirling it around his mouth thoughtfully.
"Hm. Ports are normally red; a type of sweet dessert wine. I like the name, though similar flavor profile and-"
Lorik cut himself off, grinning once more.
"There I go again! Sorry."
Once Varloo introduced himself, Lorik nodded.
"Well met to you then, Varloo. I quite agree; any time one of the masters makes a 'suggestion', well, we may as well hop to. Let's backtrack a bit though; Shayara, did you say you were turned away for mentioning the Society?"
Indeed I was. They seem to have something against the Society.
"Do you have any idea why?"
Varloo grimaces and grumbles into his ale at Lorik's question.
"Bunch of small-mouthed know-it-alls...all of which are full of hot air and in need of a full collonic irrigation to remove large splinters of wood from their rear ends."
He then takes a large pull on his ale, finishing it off. He quickly moves to refill his mug and begins sipping at it again, all signs of dark humor gone.
Lorik quirked an eyebrow, then smiled and laughed.
"Well, that's one way to put it! Still, I find it odd that they wouldn't want the experience of the Pathfinder Society behind them."
I tend to agree with you on that. I think they are hiding something, but no way to tell what until we get out there.
Alphabetical order is maddening. Perhaps not for you, Lorik. You were alphabetically blessed. "Brightwater." I'm "Solistar," which is much farther down the list. Even if I had signed up under my late husband's name, it would be "Zeroux" ... I married down, alphabetically. I sometimes wish that my parents had idolized a different famous Pathfinder. Too bad Andrax d'Aponte only died, what eight years ago? That would have been a good name... I only mean alphabetically of course. I'm not sure what happened with that whole mess...
She waves her hand as though dismissing the politics of the whole thing.
Varloo, with "Grimtide," you're after Brightwater, but before me. Where do you fall alphabetically, Diomedes?
Noticing the gathering about the man with strange hat, Harul catches a snippet of conversation that causes a double-take. Heading over, he moves up to the group and says to the lady, "Pardon, but did I hear you say you had been to Almas but are turned away when you mentioned the Society? The same thing happened to me, and I stood in the dock watching the ship sail away."
Pardon, but did I hear you say you had been to Almas but are turned away when you mentioned the Society? The same thing happened to me, and I stood in the dock watching the ship sail away.
As did I. Too bad we had not known each other then. I'm Sharaya. Sharaya Solistar, which is alphabetically inconvenient at times like these. I am afraid I will be waiting a while before my interview is called. Where does your name fall alphabetically?
"Harul Safan. I will likely be interviewing shortly before you - assuming they go by last names, of course."
Oh, I didn't think about them going by first names. If they do, you'll likely be last, Varloo. Unless there is a Zetara around here somewhere.
She smiles.