Pathfinders, a missive from Skyreach contains your latest assignment. You're to report to Diobel on the western edge of the Isle of Kortos forthwith.
Report when ready!
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A halfling wearing simple brown robes tied with a rope about the waist awaits the briefing. The top of his head is shaved, leaving longer brown hair on the sides of his head. He counts prayers on a string of beads in his hands.
"Greetings!" he says in a soft voice after finishing his prayer. "My name is Friar Huck Flaxseed, yes a distant relative of the Venture-Captain Trotter. I serve Shelyn as a lowly traveling friar but was convinced by my family to lend my aid to the Society. It is a pleasure to meet you all."
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Guntir stomps in and looks around with something like a glare. His face has the look of one who is perpetually unhappy. His demeanor, his bulging arms, and the axe on his back that loss far too big for anyone close to his size give one the impression that he is not one to be crossed.
He meets each introduction given him with a grunt, his frown unchanged. He only speaks to give his name when asked: "Guntir Mithr'l'art".
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You arrive in Diobel via the overland route from Absalom to meet a contact in a pub known as “The Tails”; a dingy, brine-soaked shack covered with swordfish tails located in a rundown section of town called South Reach. There, bitter longshoreman coming off the graveyard shifts pile in and slam rounds of a potent shark-fin liquor, cursing and complaining until they’re drunk enough to be carted home by noon. The disparaged scene has few prying eyes—the ideal place for Pathfinders to pass along their covert whispers. You enter early in the day, when the small crowd of older men is at its most drunk and rowdy, the revelry within barely contained by the boarded-up windows. You stand out like sore thumbs (aside from William, your would-be pirate.) among the ruddy-faced dockworkers, most of whom have more ginblossoms than teeth. The crowd immediately heckles you for being up-scalers and gold-thumbers, demanding you spend some of your coin to buy the bar a round, but quickly fall silent when moments later, a dark, cloaked figure rises from the back of the bar. Then, eyes averted, everyone returns to their former conversations. Drawing back his cloak, your contact reveals himself—a man his late forties with obvious Chelaxian features and a faint beard. He introduces himself only as Osprey, then invites you to sit before he finally tells you why the Society dragged you to Diobel:
"We’ve word that the accursed Chelaxian pirate Darsielle Du Moire has anchored his much sought ship, the Hydra’s Fang, in the harbor. Everyone’s looking for that bastard. He carries with him some ancient tablets of extreme historical value to our organization. Unknown to most, Wittlestone, the small Andoren town Du Moire razed to the ground, was also home to Myraxus Threeshadows, a noted but aging sage and umber mystic supposedly of ancient Azlanti decent. Among Myraxus’s possessions he kept ancient forgeries of several tablets used in ancient rites during Old Azlant’s height. When Darsielle destroyed the village, he slew the wizard and took the tablets, hoping to pawn them to one of his buyers in Diobel. The tablets are a priceless archeological treasure, one greatly desired by the Pathfinder Society. In fact, just prior to the Azlanti’s death, we placed several bids to purchase the tablets and so naturally were the first to realize they’d gone missing. You must race to get Du Moire and recover the stolen tablets before his pursuers find him or he flees port."
“If our sources are correct, we’ve learned that he owes a substantial amount of money to one of the Consortium’s more ambitious Enforcers, an importer named Lubor Staizkal. Likely he needs to settle with him at some point. Go to Lubor’s shop on Meldon Lane, near the docks, and see if you can pick up Du Moire’s trail from there, then do whatever you can to get those tablets. May the Gods speed you in this task.”
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The Friar nods his head a the briefing. "Is there anything special we should know about these tablets? Special powers or a certain delicacy required in their handling?"
"So this Lubor fellow is with the Aspis? I've heard of them, of course, but never had direct contact with them yet. How should we expect to deal with Lubor?"
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"Aye, a fine establishment this be! My esteemed colleagues here would be happy to buy a round of... As the man stands up and interrupts, William Hawk quietly shuffles to the side of the crew.
Once the mission has been laid out, Hawk speaks up again. "Aha, the Fang! A fine ship, says I. But this Du Moire character, a scoundrel he be. Did you say 'forgeries'? What makes a forgery so valuable?"
Once questions are answered, Hawk does take a little time buying some drinks and asking around to find out what the dock workers know of either Du Moire or Lubor Staizkai.
"Lubor is a business man. I'm not sure what to expect. On eof his best clients has become a liability. Expect anything, though I'd be surprised if it comes to blows."
(Gathering Information) takes a few hours. Osprey mentioned that the gathering has been done, and your best lead involves getting to Lubor while the trail is hot...
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"We'll have done with this bloody pirate scoundrel, Aye we will. And we'll get you the tablets too." Guntir's dour expression turns to an outright scowl as he says 'pirate.'
"Come on now, you lot." He stands up and turns to go. "Ain't stayin' t' drink no more o' that swill, I ain't. No I ain't; not in such a low-down place as this."
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"We also don't know much about the ACTUAL appearance of the tablets. You'll be the first Pathfinders to lay eyes on them."
D'Lack: "Tablets from Azlant tend to be highly detailed rituals. Unfortunately these rituals could be anything from how to pour tea to how to summon demigods (or anything in between.) Without more information, "Azlanti tablets" is all you have to go on.
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The man known as "The Agent" simply smiles and drinks from his cup, absorbing the atmosphere of The Tails like a laborer who just finished a 12-hour shift working the mines. Except - he's only been awake for an hour and hasn't done any real "labor" in years. He must do something, however, for he bears a distinctively earthy smell about his tattered clothes.
"Man, that's rough... raidin' villages."
With that, he continues drinking from his cup, smacking his lips in apparent enjoyment at whatever he ordered, no doubt his White Irriseni causing all the cursing that the group had received for being fancy-folk.
As the others focus in on Lubor as their next lead, the Agent nods his approval.
"I agree, man. We should talk to this Lubor-on-Meldon-lane. See what he knows about that pirate-guy. Try to resolve things peacefully when we see him, you know, right?"
He turns to Guntir and clumsily gestures.
"I'll bring the Desna, you bring the ale..."
Barring anything else,
On your contact’s advice, you arrive at the shop of one of Du Moire’s supposed connections. A sign over the door reads “Lubor’s Imports.” The door hangs slightly ajar. All is dark within, and eerily silent. As you peer inside, you witness the scene of a recent brawl. Furniture lies smashed and strewn about. Near a closed door at the back of the shop, two bodies slump upon the floor, their blood pooling slowly beneath them...
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"Och." Guntir pulls the massive axe from off of his back. Although it's size looks completely wrong for him, it looks natural in his hands and his movements show he's clearly comfortable with it.
He pauses in the doorway to peer into the shadows. If he sees nothing he cautiously makes his way to the bodies.
From outside the building, no one hears or sees anything...
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The Agent shakes his head, his long ratty hair obfuscating his face.
"Whoa-ohh man, that ain't good. That's a whole lot of blood..."
Clumsily, the Agent swings the longbow resting on his back around to his hand and staggers back a little.
"Looks like Du Moire settled up, and by that I don't mean he paid in coin..."
The Agent stays back behind Guntir and Makindi, but keeps his eyes open for someone who'd want to steal his stuff or beat him up without just cause.
Inside the ajar door you can see a pair of slain guards...
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Man, I should've totally paid attention in that class I took with the Desnan caravan outside Sandpoint...
The Agent kind of stares ahead at the bodies, as if he's thinking.
What do I tell these people? That the bodies are freshly slain? Or they've been here a long time?
"Man, those bodies are totally fresh... we should like, totally be careful or something."
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The Agent continues to stare at the bodies, apparently deep in thought, but in reality resting his brain at the explosion of seriousness at the present situation.
"I totally can't tell... someone should really check."
The Agent's eyes widen slightly as he nervously holds his bow and looks in each corner of the room for whoever or whatever did this.
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The Agent, with all eyes on him expecting him to do something, shuffles into the room behind Guntir and Makindi.
As he kneels next to the first body, he apologizes for whatever befell the man.
"Man, I'm sorry for whatever happened to you. I hope you didn't have any kids depending on you bringing home dinner tonight..."
There doesn't look like anything anyone can do. These men are d-e-a-d.
The Agent, however, does hear something from the room beyond. The sound of sliding boxes and slight banging around perhaps.
Guntir's ginger opening of the door reveals that it's either stuck or somewhat barricaded from the other side. The noises next door completely stop...
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Guntir looks at his fellow pathfinders for a moment, giving them a chance to interrupt before he heaves his shoulder into the door...
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The Agent cringes as each violent slam buckles the door.
"I don't know man, whoever closed that might've locked it for a reason..."
Regardless, he does nothing else to stop the dwarf and barbarian from breaking it down, equally curious as to what was moving about beyond. Using one hand to shield his face at whatever lies beyond, he uses the other to aim his bow at something imminent and possibly dangerous.
It only takes you 1 trip around to realize all the windows are boarded up. On your pass you also here the noises in the Eastern room, which go silent at the first touch of the door. You make it back to the entrance just as Guntir and Makindi push through and open the door.
Guntir's first push doesn't make a lot of progress, but when Mikindi adds a solid shoulder the door gives. You're greeted with a sad sight. A teenage girl stands over the corpse of a middle-aged merchant. Her silent eyes filled with tears, she mouths the word “daddy.”
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Guntir's shoulders slump as he takes in the sight. "Och."
He mumbles "Poor lass."
He bites his lower lip. "Ahm. Well. Ahm..."
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