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A barely three foot tall halfling clad in a fine chain shirt with two small scimitars strapped cross ways over her back hurries excitedly along, having been summoned by the pathfinder society with promises of another urgent adventure.
Marra chuckles to herself wondering what new tale and friends she will be adding to her collections of heroic stories.
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All of this may have been voiced or thought up to several days ago. The Pathfinders selected and subsequently summoned were brought to the Maelstrom, the personal vessel of eccentric Venture-Captain Retief VanSchuyver. Now, in his cabin awaiting a briefing, the ship sways and rocks with the gentle swells in the predawn darkness off the coast of Rahadoum. The captain scratches his patchy beard as he speaks.
“I’m not sure how much you know about the nation of Rahadoum. Its position on the mouth of the Inner Sea keeps it prosperous enough, I think, but the strangest thing about the nation has nothing to do with trade. You may already know this, but they’re not too keen on the gods. Any of ’em. Not Desna, nor Abadar, nor Gozreh, much less the bleaker crew like Asmodeus or Lamashtu. Them Rahadoumi want nothing to do with them—had a war over ’em, in fact. Even Sarenrae can’t get her foot in the door!”
The captain leans back, turns, and spits tobacco juice into a brass spittoon.
“Despite all that, Rahadoum is a peaceful nation, eh. Education is highly valued, and civic duty held in high esteem. At least it hasn’t had to deal with any religious wars in a long time. But turnin’ your back on the gods has its downside. Famine always looms on their horizon. The desert claims more and more of their farmland every year, it seems. And, worst of all, plagues wreak stark havoc among ’em. Thousands die every year from one ailment or another for want of a decent cleric. They have no power, no divine will, to stem the tide of disease, and they struggle and they starve and they die so dreamlessly, knowin’ that when they enter the Boneyard, there’ll be no deity to meet ’em there with open arms, no paradise waiting on the other side."
“Just lately, things have been much worse. A new plague sprang up several weeks ago in the outlying villages around Manaket—Rahadoum’s center of learning. They call it the Night Plague, and it’s a killer. Very few infected have recovered from it but the handful who made it across the borders or out through the ports have been easily cured by clerical magic. This Night Plague’s a killer, but it doesn’t have to be.
“That brings me to why we’re bobbing here off Rahadoum’s coast in the dead of night. Despite Rahadoum’s current social agenda, it’s an ancient, storied land. There’re a lot of secrets buried in those forgotten sands. As a result, let’s just say that the Pathfinders have ‘assets in place’ in the area not ‘officially’ associated with the Swordmeet Lodge in Manaket and leave it at that. But with plague striking the area, and those assets having no clerical support, they are now in jeopardy. We’ve got to protect our people and their research, and to do that we’ve got to get a handle on this plague before it becomes epidemic, or at least shield our folks before they’re exposed to it.”
He looks up, his eyes dark and fierce. “So we’re going to give Rahadoum a little help… whether they like it or not.”
He gestures behind him to a shadowed figure sitting on a sea-chest.
“This is Agosa Agion, a holy hand of Sarenrae and Pathfinder field operative.”
A human male rises from his seat and bows low. He wears a desert dweller’s robes on his slender frame and a green turban around his angular head. His forked beard is golden-colored and dyed with henna at its tips.
Captain VanSchuyver clears his throat and continues. “Agosa normally serves as a healer in the Sothis Lodge and his expertise should serve him well as a plague doctor. I don’t intend for you folk to play nursemaid to a bunch of plague victims, that’s what
we’ve got Agosa here for, but getting him into the country and to the action is where you come in.
“Your job is to sneak him into Rahadoum and get him to the village of Wadi al-Hesr, avoiding the nation’s priest-hunting military forces—they’re called the Pure Legion—and taking care of any ‘entanglements’ that you may run into along the way. For all the gods’ sakes, don’t let them know you’re even in the country! Right now, we’re anchored just off Rahadoum’s northern coast near the Qassabah Heb Amar. As far as the Rahadoumi government knows, it is the home of Bey Sarkris El Makkra, jefe of several of the local villages. The truth is, the good bey uses his stronghold as a secret smugglers’ port. Tonight, you are the smugglers, and Agosa here is your contraband. Get him into the tunnels where you’ll meet one of the bey’s servants; he’ll direct you from there.
“Don’t mess this thing up. Once you get Agosa to Wadi al-Hesr—only a few miles from the bey’s fortress—he’ll know where to go. Questions? If not, then get to the tunnels before the tides change. Someone from the bey’s staff is surely already waiting.”
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Standing in pensive silence is a tall, slender man in fine blue robes and a striking, jewel-encrusted mask behind which fuschia eyes blaze, and beneath which can be seen small portions of strange, brassy-tinged skin. Some may recognize him as "The Amazing" Julian Leroux Vanzetti, renowned Andoran actor.
He is very interested in visiting Rahadoum. It sounds like the dead opposite of...the place he originally came from. There, all were forced to slavishy devote themselves to a single, false god (and those born gifted, such as he, were taken and twisted into his image). Here, freedom from ALL gods was mandatory! It would seem it would be practically his idea of paradise...
...and yet, one would think they would be able to find some way to protect themselves from disease...even Razmir was able to figure that one out, it occurs to him bitterly.
He contemplates his hand. Life is full of sickening ironies. Perhaps he would be able to do some good here....
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"Once we clear the border, what is our cover story? And is our mission simply to get this man safely to Wadi al-Hesr, or will he require our protection until his work is finished and then an escort back here?" So typical. The VIP is always a man. One of these days I'm going to be the first woman on the Decemvirate!
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"Plague? That's terrible!" Cirri looks up and writes down some more in her book. "Maybe I should have bought some antiplague..." Cirri ponders. "But more importantly..." She offers a hand to the cleric. "Good to meet you, Agosa Agion! My name is Cirri Merryweather. I would have shaken hands before, but I guess I was a little absorbed in my work."
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Smiling the short halfling know a Marra of the Dawnflower chuckles, "So we get to be smugglers! Very exciting!"
Marra give a bow to Agosa Agion, "I too am a follower of Sarenrae, we will get you where you are needed!"
She turns to Venture-Captain Retief VanSchuyver with a few questions fired in rapid order, "How do the Rahadoum know if some one is a follower of a god? Is it just the practice of religion or are religious people band as well? What about divine scrolls, potions or other items of religious nature?"
Also, the Dawnflower bard tries to recall anything useful about Rahadoum, Bey Sarkris El Makkra, or the local area.
Marra repiles to Shandra, "I'm arcane, but I know how to cast healing spells. To the uneducated it may seem like divine magic. We should use that type of magic discretely."
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Turning to Shandra, VC Retief replies, "There is no cover story. The closest thing to one is that you are smugglers. As that is also a crime, although less so of one, it would be obviously best to avoid the Pure Legion entirely. All you should need to do is to get Agosa there, and come back as soon as you can. He may be staying for some time, until his work is done, and it may be easier to get out than in."
To Marra, he says, "Well, the first step to avoiding such detection is to keep any symbols of religious affiliation out of sight. Depending on the composition of their patrol, any of their number may be mages capable of remotely discerning divine magic and casters. People who are simply religious are banned as well as divine mages, but as they have committed less of a crime they may simply be fined and asked to leave the country. Such spellcasters as yourself, those who can heal and cure ailments without direct deific power, are always in high demand there, but there are never enough."
Agosa Agion grins slightly and shakes any proffered hands, not saying anything until all questions not directed at him are answered. At that point, he stuffs his holy symbol in a side pocket and directs the fellow Pathfinders to a lighter, barely a boat, anchored to the side of the Maelstrom. "We will be taking this craft to the sea cave and following tunnels," he states simply. "If everyone could get into position as they see fit, although I believe the strongest and quickest of you should be the one manning the tiller. I will not be of any use here, unless someone gets hurt, I apologize, I get terribly seasick and there are only 4 spots for rowers."
Meanwhile, Marra is unable to recall anything about the country, area, or people described besides that which the party has already been told.
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Seeing the Pathfinders enter the boat and get into position, VC Retief bellows down over the churning water, "Good luck, Pathfinders, and may you find the gods' favor!" Seconds later, he slices through the ropes connecting the two boats, and the lighter bobs away towards the coast. The most eagle-eyed among the team are quick to point out that the route they must take goes between a pair of massive boulders, jutting out of the turbulent water and blending in against the night-shrouded backdrop of the cliffs. Suddenly the current swirling around the huge rocks begins to tug slightly at the boat, and all capable hands are must be turned to pushing and rowing the craft out of the way, except Shandra, who is steering, and Agosa, who is curled up retching in the back. It is imperative to get between the boulders, but in the task there lies a risk of being flung from the boat by strong currents.
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Between friendly banter and shouting, Cirri, Marra, and Karos heave wildly at their oars, while Shandra works the tiller and Agosa screams between intermittent retches. Altogether, the effort results in the boat neatly shooting between the boulders, as the Sarenite cleric regurgitates spectacularly at the sudden increase in speed and turbulence.
Most of the Pathfinders notice the submerged shoal, a tip of which pokes innocently above the roiling waves. It is up to Shandra to halt the boat before it runs aground!
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Shandra pushes back against the tiller, her teammates their respective oars, and boat shudders to a quick halt. It has only run a few inches aground on the shoal, as such a few backstrokes get it back in the water. The lighter continues on towards the sea cave, Agosa casting some minor spell to attempt to relieve his sickness. Nearing the mouth, the water begins to bubble and swirl ever so slightly!
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Cirri and Marra's instructions do not end up proving very helpful. "It doesn't matter, there's only one tunnel!" Agosa yells at them before he slumps back down on what little deck is available. While his criticism isn't being quite productive either, his seasickness appears to be taking precedence over his good judgement. Karos, however, realizes what the slowly churning water heralds, and in the nick of time, too. Agosa tracks the Alkenstar man's gaze and quickly deciphers the situation, and (perhaps joining in with Karos) he screams, Once again, Shandra must work quickly, this time to avoid the now-massive vortex that has almost instantaneously appeared!
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If she can, Marra starts chanting bardic to inspire competiance in Shandra giving her a +3 skill check bounus (useless for saves, but). If Shandra fails the save thrown, Marra will cast Saving Finale {link} ending the bardic performance and giving Shandra a re-roll on the failed save.
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Shandra, sweaty like the others from the massive exertion of rowing and steering, slips on the tiller, but Marra's magical chant steels her grip in the next moment. The joint effort allows to craft to make a wide turn around the vortex before the chance of being sucked in. While they are wary of any further obstacles on the way to the sea cave, none are found and the rest of their passage proves safe.
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The Pathfinders, Agosa Agion included, step out of the boat, relieved to be on relatively sturdy land once again. After mooring the lighter in case a quick escape is warranted, the team stands in the shallows. Now they are able to take their first peaceful, uninterrupted look around...
Agosa, once again following the gaze of Karos, quietly suggests, "It is unlikely that is the way we are should go. We are to meet the Bey's servant, and if he were to be lurking in a concealed passage, it would only be to wait for us. If you would like to proceed that way, however, I will follow."
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Agosa shakes his head at Karos's apparent foolishness. "We do want to go to him, but he is probably not that way. If he was, he'd have been waiting for us, and he would come out by now. Besides, given the position of the main castle higher up on the cliff, this way-" he points to the southern passage, the one that could already be seen, "-is probably the way to the smugglers' landing, later to the castle proper. That would be the best place to meet, I believe."
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Marra looks thoughtful "That's one way to think, but if I was a smuggler in my smuggler cave with an obvious path and a hidden path, I would use the hidden path for my smuggling and send any fool that blundered into my cave down the obvious path to their doom! Maybe someone could look to see if there are tracks and which way they lead? Otherwise I vote we take the hidden path.".
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Agosa raises a single eyebrow at Karos, a touch annoyed. "Well, see what I get for trying a hand at simple logic," he quips, with complete honesty. While as he has said, he does not know where the servant would be either, he is not attempting to mislead anyone. Shandra, meanwhile, notes there are very recent tracks to and from the visible passageway, made by the same feet. If it is the servant the Pathfinders are to meet, it is possible he came out to meet, and, uncomfortable, decided to go back to the warmth. If Rahadoum even the servants are pampered to a degree, should they not die of the week's plague.
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Cirri heads forward, eventually followed by her comrades. 20 feet in or so, the water finally begins to recede, leaving the Pathfinders on relatively dry sandy flooring. Not too long after, a small staircase rises out of the night's gloom, leading up to a large cellar. It appears to be a storage space for smugglers, as the door out looks to be very well concealed from the other side, when opened to progress. Just outside of the cellar, there is nothing more than two barrels, one of which contains sea brine and a few crabs (who skitter away upon hearing the approaching footsteps), the other some old Vudrani silk that has long since molded away.
The inside, however, is another story. There are many more barrels, most of which seem to contain imported liquor, spices, and other mildly valuable things. Any one of you may have some brief thoughts about taking them for yourself, but individually, they are bulky and not worth much at that. Besides, it wouldn't be very hospitable to the good Bey, as he is tolerating the Society's presence in his caves. The next room appears to be a storage chamber for contraband of another variety - human(oid)s. Presumably sold into grotesque forms of slavery and illegal blood sport, this is their transition point. Dry crusts of bread and some fresh(ish) straw shows the cells are still in use.
The team has just opened the door to the next room from the cellar, glimpsing another such basement, but almost completely bare save some furniture and rotting vegetables, when many sets of heavy boots begin to storm down a flight of stairs. The door to an open crate in the new room whisks shut as if of its own accord. Agosa Agion fairly charges back towards the cells, not going so far as to lock himself in one but hiding all the same.