The summons from Drandle Dreng is brief and a bit odd: “Meet Kreighton Shaine in the stables to discuss missing artifacts.” Aside from some briefings during training, few Pathfinders deal with the Society’s elven Master of Scrolls. In the muddy stables, Kreighton’s scholarly robes drag through the muck, and his soft shoes are clearly soaked through, though he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I’ve been working on an extensive study of religious relics, trying to ascertain whether items gain a certain aura of divinity that cannot be detected through normal means. I’ve been collecting these artifacts through a series of well-known dealers in the God’s Market. We’ve never had any trouble before, but recently several of our couriers have been waylaid by a particularly elusive bandit.” Kreighton pauses briefly as his mud-soaked robe snags on a nail and he nearly falls over, but a stable boy catches his arm and steadies him.
“As they were headed through the Ascendant Court,” he continues, “a group of thugs ambushed our couriers. The first time I thought it was a coincidence—a random mugging. After the second time, however, Grandmaster Torch had some harsh words with me. He suspects someone has targeted our couriers specifically. The Drandle boy suggested I have you investigate the disappearances.” There is a long, uncomfortable pause and for a minute it seems the elf has completely forgotten he was discussing something.
Finally, he glances up with a sort of stunned look on his face. “Oh yes, here, this list will help you. The Grandmaster has helpfully provided it as a starting point.”
He looks away, staring off at the sky for another moment before coming back to the conversation with a start. "Oh yes, and I've been sent some missives. Here you are."
There are few people I despise more than the Chelish bastards of House Arionne. Their crimes against human dignity and freedom-loving people are countless. There is little we can do to strike out at them while they lair safely in Cheliax, however, your current mission presents a unique opportunity. Three weeks ago, a minor son of House Arionne made a special trip to Absalom. Our intelligence indicates he was there to sell a relic that was stolen from House Thrune years ago. Included with the relic is a letter of authentication detailing how the leaders of House Arionne stole the pen from the Chelish crown. Bring me that letter or find some other way to ensure it doesn’t end up in the hands of that devil queen in Egorian and we will strike a debilitating blow to House Arionne.
Be Ever Vigilant,
Major Colson Maldris
One of the relics recently sold within the borders of Absalom is an item that relates very closely to our great nation—the so-called Thrune Pen. We are not certain whether the pen in question is authentic or not, as the original was stolen in the chaos that followed the ascension of House Thrune. The throne in Egorian wants this pen back and while we are certain the Pathfinder Society would eventually deliver it, it will likely be for a price, and even then only after it languishes for years or decades in the hands of some archivist. Get me that pen and your reward will be something you treasure for years.
Do Not Disappoint Me,
Paracountess Zarta Dralneen
The reputation of the Pathfinder Society here in Absalom has taken a beating because of rash actions by overzealous Pathfinders. Our reputation among the city’s guards has become one of a group that kills first and asks questions later, and the city guard is talking about taking a hard stance against us—perhaps even jailing reckless Pathfinders. Work with the Graycloaks and try to rein in your fellow Pathfinders’ overzealous ways. If you leave a string of bodies behind with no explanation, things are going to get very hot for Pathfinders here in Absalom. It’s not enough to put an end to this string of crimes—we need solid, incontrovertible proof and no collateral damage.
Tread Carefully,
Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin
The turmoil in the Minkai Empire has been growing as of late, and the Higashiyama Clan has been increasingly harsh against those who dare speak out against them. A rash young son of a large trading house made the mistake of speaking too freely and was forced to cut ties with his family and flee the country. The boy’s name is Kosanti Hokamagi and he is an adept poet and artist. I have reason to believe Hokamagi is here in Absalom, selling paintings of Sarenrae, Cayden Cailean, and Iomedae worked in the Tian style; such works have suddenly become quite popular. Locating this artist and helping him get back in contact with his family in Minkai would create a bond between the Society and the Kosanti Trading House and would pay off immensely.
Ever in Your Debt,
Venture-Captain Amara Li
I have been informed that you are to be investigating the disappearance of stolen religious artifacts in the God’s Market. Recently, an item of spiritual and historical import was purchased and subsequently stolen en route to the Osirian embassy. The relic is a ceremonial staff head called the Scarab of the Dawnflower and was used by the Cult of the Dawnflower before the rule of pharaohs was restored to Osirion. If you can find this staff head, claim it in the name of the Ruby Prince and retrieve it, so it can be forwarded to one of the great universities in Osirion where it belongs. Failing that, get me what information you can about the location of the relic so we can ensure it is returned to its proper home.
Closing,
Amenopheus, the Sapphire Sage
As you well know, dealing in illicit merchandise can be dangerous for a profit-minded individual—stolen items can be difficult to sell for a reasonable price or without expensive legal entanglements—but undertaken carefully, it can be quite lucrative.
As part of a larger transaction, I acquired some items of worship that were almost certainly stolen from the Church of Asmodeus. My first reaction was to dispose of the tainted goods, but I couldn’t bear the thought of liquidating that much merchandise at a loss. So it is quite fortuitous that you are to be spending time in the God’s Market. If you could find a merchant who has no qualms about selling such items, we could come to a very rewarding agreement.
Wishing You Long Life and Large Margins,
Trade Prince Aaqir al’Hakam
I am pleased to discover the Pathfinder Society is helping to stamp out the local competition. In appreciation for their efforts, I offer this little morsel. There is a fence who works the God’s Market, a weaselly-faced fellow with a propensity to spook. He’s been quite busy as of late and has been spotted flashing a lot of gold in the gambling houses. We haven’t been able to get his name, but odds are he is involved in your robberies. When you are shaking down my competition, perhaps you can find who’s been buying these religious relics of questionable origin from the fence. I have some similar merchandise that I’m having trouble shifting, so I’m in need of a good buyer.
May the Family Preserve You,
Guaril Karela
These attacks on Pathfinders are of great concern to me—the Decemvirate is again acting complacent while Pathfinders are being sacrificed to their cause. It was only with a great deal of verbal bludgeoning on my part that they even brought you in to solve this mess. The concern I did not share with the Decemvirate is that there might be a betrayal within the Society or by someone who is dogmatically clinging to the former Shadow Lodge. I fear that somehow the Society’s privacy has been breached. While you are out on your mission, discover how our adversaries have been targeting the Pathfinders and by what methods they have been spying on us; if it’s an internal problem, we need to stamp it out before more agents are harmed.
Trust in Solidarity,
Grandmaster Torch
The Society places great value in relics. Though such items are greatly treasured by the churches and scholars, I personally find them little more than intriguing distractions—though if you can return a relic to it’s rightful owner, you should obviously take the chance. Similarly, if you find a lost sheep and can return it to its flock, you have done a service to both the sheep and the shepherd. As you are going through your investigations, remember that not all who serve evil are evil at heart, and that many a sheep has been led astray by deceit and treachery. Should you stumble across any sheep who have lost their way, urge them to seek redemption and help them return to their flock.
Mind the Flock,
Ollysta Zadrian
As of late, I’ve been having problems with Viviana Rallano, a Taldan countess who has taken up residence in Absalom. For reasons that are of no concern to you, I have been tasked with cleaning up a rather delicate mess she’s made for our glorious empire. It has come to my attention that she recently made some inquires about a particularly valuable relic, and she may have left a few traces of her misdoings. I’ve taken care to adequately punish the countess, but I need you to destroy any evidence you come across that may implicate her in this whole relic mess you’ll be dealing with. Just be sure to make the evidence’s destruction looks like an accident.
Use Care,
Lady Gloriana Morilla
Grandmaster Torch's note:
Pathfinders,
I’m sure that daft elf has thoroughly confused you by now, so hopefully this note will help set things straight. Someone has been preying on your fellow Pathfinders and stealing important relics from the Society. We need you to discover who is behind these crimes. The Graycloaks have found scant information. They did recover the Shard of Iomedae’s Lance, but the details about the recovery are scarce. My contacts have provided me the names of some of the witnesses to the muggings, which I have included below. Rialla Barleyhusk: Witnessed the first mugging; works at the shop across from Cayden’s Hall. Friar Horace: Witnessed the second mugging; is the master brewer at Erastil’s Alehouse. Jarid Moltwin: Was caught selling the Shard of Iomedae’s Lance; owns a private stall in the God’s Market. The Pathfinders’ reputation with the Graycloaks is tenuous at best, so try to work with the Graycloaks and don’t leave a trail of bodies behind you.
Tread Carefully,
Torch
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Usually the short stack in the room Wizzy looks around and notices someone of his height.. "A shelah eh.. Oh boy what luck!"
"Very bad news.. Very bad indeed.. My names Floggentop Wizzbottle III, but my friends call me Wizzy, and i assure you all ill do my best to help root out the villains here.." Looking to Amme.. "Well hello, hello.. What might be your name dreamy?"
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Franton is a wild-eyed man with a shock of blonde hair that he's constantly fussing with. He's dressed in browns and blacks with hard leather armour and a large hooded cloak. Everything about him is anxious and twitchy.
"Don't worry, leave everything to us! I'm Franton by the way." Franton says with enthusiasm bordering on the hysterical. He looks around at his companions for a moment.
"Gnomes everywhere! That must be a sign. Right, right ancient artifacts. This has to be important. The demon masters of Absalom very well may be behind this. Religious artifacts are a certain way to defeat demons. My brothers in the Scarzni understand this, they are on the side of good! I must find this fence. What do I know about him and the other witnesses?"
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Terrill is a relatively short half-elf, though one corded with muscle. He wears a suit of finely-crafted chainmail of a dull silver color, and a beautifully-made curving blade runs across his back. He is young, but surprisingly serious and intent in his demeanor. In spite of this, one side of his mouth lifts in a slight smile as he listens to the scatter-brained elf describe the recent series of thefts in the God’s Market, though he grows more serious as he understands what has been taking place. Someone’s specifically targeting couriers carrying religious artifacts? They’ll regret it if they come after anything of Desna’s.
He looks around the stable at his companions for this mission, and speaks for the first time, getting directly to business, ”I’m Terrill Mayern. Pleasure to meet you all. It looks from Torch’s list like we’ve got a few leads close by. Anyone care to join me paying some of them a visit? I think I’ll start with this fellow who witnessed one of the muggings, see if we can learn anything from another holy man.”
Terrill makes his way to the alehouse and seeks out Friar Horace. Once he’s tracked him down, he approaches and says, ”Good day, Friar. I understand you saw someone mugged recently near the God’s Market. I’m looking into this attack and some that may be related to it, for the Pathfinder Society. Would you be able to tell me what you saw? Can you describe the attackers, what they looked like, weapons they carried, anything they said?”
Terrill pauses and says, ”I’m sorry, I’ve just fired quite a few questions at you. But as you can understand, I’m anxious to get to the bottom of this situation, and any help you can provide will be mean a great deal.”
The God’s Market is policed by a group of guards called the Graycloaks. They are sworn to hold no god above any other and are all staunch atheists. They are easily identified by their plain, unadorned gray cloaks, but wear nothing else to make them stand out.
The commander of the Graycloaks is Runewulf the Unbeliever, a hard man known for being harsh but fair in all things. Runewulf doesn’t believe in anything he can’t see or feel for himself.
There is a thriving underground black market of items sold in the God’s Market for those who know where to look and whom to ask. Such illicit trading includes both banned items and stolen goods.[/spoiler]
Terrill heads of to the tavern to speak with the Friar. Erastil’s Alehouse is a thriving brewery and alehouse run by monks of Erastil. Located near the edge of the Avenue of the Hopeful, it’s currently a challenge to enter, with a mob of followers of a would-be-god crowding around the entrance hoping to catch a glimpse of the future godling drinking a swig of ale. A monk stands at the entrance blocking the path of some of the more aggressive followers who are trying to squeeze into the alehouse.
As the party approaches, the monk at the entrance looks up with a frustrated expression on his face. “I’m sorry, my friends, but the Alehouse is a mite full at the moment. Is there anything I can help you with?”
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Terrill hesitates at the entrance to the brewery, clearly not expecting to run into such odd resistance to his inquiry. Responding to the monk's question, he says "I hope you can help - I'm looking for Friar Horace, I'd like to ask him a few questions about a crime he witnessed. But now that I'm here, I'd also like know what's happening. Why the big crowd? From what I could pick up, it sounds like they all want to watch someone drink - I'd think that would be pretty easy to find in your alehouse."
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Arriving at the alehouse with banner in hand Amme stands back, ready to assist any of her companions efforts.
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Franton trails the party from a distance, not particularly trying to be stealthy, but managing to look suspicious as he darts from doorway to doorway. After the party arrives at the alehouse, Franton steps up behind Terrill and folds his arms, trying to look tough.
"Trying to find a friar and this monk is conveniently outside of the alehouse. Suspicious. I like the gnome's flag though! Draws attention away from me. Hrrrm... Terrill seems to be handling things. I'll observe and look menancing. Intervene if this so-called monk gives us trouble."
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At the briefing, Senken provides little information beyond his name, "I am Senken." A tall Tian man, he watches from underneath the hood of his cloak, his eyes seeming not to quite focus.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the alehouse, Senken simply watches the crowd, seeming to look past them into the building through a wall. As Terril starts to speak, Senken chips in, "And we can assure you, sir, that we do not belong to this throng."
"Oh, this fuss will be over with soon enough, I hope. Some would-be-god and his followers."
"You're looking for Friar Horace, though? I can help you with that. It will be no good talking here now. I'll go find him for you and send him to the alley over yonder." He points the alley behind the alehouse. "It might be that you can avoid the crowds and talk to the Friar a little more privately then, as it seems to me that is your wish."
The party waits behind the alehouse and several minutes later the Friar emerges.
Friar Horace is a thin, precise man with a hawkish nose. His description of events is precise and to the point. “Aye, I saw what happened ; they attacked that Pathfinder right over there,” the friar says as he makes a curt gesture to a patch of dirt in the alley behind the alehouse. “They were wearing gray cloaks, but I don’t think they were guards. Your friend was holding her own, but then someone shot her from that rooftop.” He makes another precise gesture pointing to a building across the alley. “I called out for Brothers Ellis and Freel and grabbed my staff, but by the time I got outside, it was all over. We were able to help your friend back into the alehouse and Brother Freel went to fetch the Graycloaks."
“I didn’t see what happened to the relic your friend was carrying—they must have grabbed it while I was getting my staff. When Brother Freel tried to follow the thugs, he found their cloaks discarded at the delivery entrance to the bakery. After that, things open up to the market proper and it’s almost impossible to follow anyone out there.”
"Now I was inside at the time of the attack and saw most of this through a window, so I didn't get a good look at the archer. The toughs, though, seemed to me to be dark-skinned and speaking a language I didn't recognize. Osiriani or Kelish, maybe."
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"Of course... grey cloaks they wanted to look like Greycloaks! Wait that's obvious. Or is it.. Be right back! Going to look at that roof. Coo like a pigeon if you see guards! They hate it when I climb stuff."
With that Franton bolts across the street, sending pigeons scattering everywhere. He raises his hood and begins examining the building to look for an easy way to scale the side, ideally in an alley or other out of sight location.
"Hm, yes, we still have the cloaks." The Friar goes inside for a moment after retrieving a few nondescript gray cloaks. "As you know, the Graycloaks are the atheistic guards of the Ascendant Court. They are generally noble people and respected by everyone. I can not say whether these were rogue Graycloaks or merely impersonators. Either way, once they ditched their cloaks and hit the market, there was no way to track them or find them again."
Morvius and Franton climb to the top of the building and find a couple stray arrows left behind. They seem to be coated in something.
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Franton takes a running leap at the side of the wall, scampers up, finds a ledge, and gets up onto the roof.
"Not everyone!" he calls down to the Friar before he steps aside to let Morvius climb up. Franton spots the arrows and squats on his haunches before leaving them. "Hey Morv, take a look at these! You look like a guy who knows his arrows. I'm going to see what else is up here." Franton prowls around the top of the roof, looking for further clues.
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Terrill stares into space for a few moments, pondering what they’ve heard from the brewing brothers of Erastil. ”Hmm,” he says pensively. ”Osiriani or Kelish thugs pretending to be noble Greycloaks, attacking couriers in broad daylight. The archer could have been with them, or part of an entirely separate attack on the Pathfinder, and either way, the relic is gone. I wonder what it was.”
He walks over to the spot where Friar Horace has indicated the attack occurred, looking for any signs of who was there, and where they went, though he has little expectation of tracking them through the busy market.
Turning to his Pathfinder companions, he says, ”It seems we should go talk to the witness to the first attack. What do you think? Any more questions for the good friar here?”
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Amme checks each cloak carefully, checking to see if it the proper style, color, and bearing the proper insignia of the greycloaks.
"Did I miss it, or did you tell us how many they were? Besides the archer my friends are investigating that is."
Once she has fully inspected, she hands them off to her allies. Once out of earshot of the Friar Amme suggests, "[b]Possible disguises never hurt anyone. Besides, we should rifle through them to see if the bandits may have left anything behind. Hidden pockets or anything.
[]
The Greycloaks bear no insignias or special markings, they simply wear plain grey cloaks.
The friar seems to be honest in everything he has told you.
The roof only contains the arrows and there are no tracks to be found. The ground where the scuffle occurred has been walked over and any tracks have long been disturbed.
The other monks did not actually see the crime, they only came running at the friar's call, but did not make it out in time to see anything.
The arrows seem to be covered in some sort of poison.
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At Terrill's direction the party heads to talk to Rialla, the witness of the first mugging, who spends her days in a shop across from Cayden's Hall.
This brick building is fronted by two large, many-paned glass windows and a large sign that reads, “Mercantile, Curiosities, Unique Items, and Magic—Bought and Sold Within.” Inside the store, the shelves are lined with all manner of goods, crafts, and artwork both domestic and foreign. A halfling clerk sits on a large stool behind a human-sized countertop.
"Good day to you, everyone! My what a crowd! So very exciting!" the small halfling woman jumps down from her stool and eagerly shakes everyone's hand. "What is it that I can do for you today?"
When questioned about the mugging, the halfling becomes very excited and insists on showing you the exact spot where it happened. She jumps about and tell the story very animatedly, often recreating parts of the story with her own actions.
Barleyhusk’s excitement is palpable, and she rambles everything in one long, breathless speech. “That poor man you asked about who was attacked, he looked a right mess, he had an arrow in his side, and he could barely walk. I sat him down and started to bandage him up. Then all of a sudden the Graycloak was there and asked if I had a potion to fix him up. I said I could patch him right up because I took a class from Berntuck’s Fine School of First Aid. That Graycloak gave me the nastiest look and said the Graycloaks would pay full price for the potion. Well, I knew the master had some peppermint flavored healing potions that weren’t selling very well, so I ran back to get the potions and before I could even get to them, I hear the injured fellow gasp really loud. ‘Hurry!’ the bossy Graycloak said, so I ran back as fast as I could, but when I got there, he was already dead.”
The halfling quietly sobers up as she finishes her story, and walks back behind the counter and climbs onto her stool. “I was too slow.”
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After listening carefully to Rialla's account, Terrill says quietly, "I'm sorry to hear you were unable to save him - but it clearly was not for lack of trying. You stepped right out there and started to bandage him, when many folk would have done less or nothing, and you were as quick as you could be in getting him healing. It sounds like the poison was a pretty fast-acting one - not much you can do with something like that."
His voice turns slightly more intense as he goes on, "But perhaps you can still help him in some way. Do you by any chance still have the arrow, or can you describe it? Can you describe the Graycloak you spoke to? Tall, short? Old, young? Dark or fair? Did he have an accent or sound like he was from here? Weapons, armor, boots, insignia, anything?"
Terrill pauses and says, "There, I've done it again. I apologize for shooting so many questions at you. I'm just trying to help you think about anything you might have noticed, and I get...carried away sometimes."
Turning to his more nimble companions, Terrill says "Morvius, Franton - you feel like climbing around on some more roofs? I wonder if our poison-loving archer left us any more clues?"
Rialla looks a bit sheepish when Amme and Terrill start discussing the poison. "Poison? My, he had an arrow in his side but I never would have thought. . . that explains it though, I suppose."
Turning back to the party, she explains, "According to what I learned from Berntuck, an arrow injury like that shouldn’t have killed your friend so quickly. Berntuck said gut wounds are a long slow death. I’m not sure what happened. I meant to ask the Graycloak about it, but by the time I thought to ask her, she was already gone.”
"Honestly I don't remember much about her, I'm sorry. She was some tall dark woman but I really didn't interact with her much to get her feel. She left too quickly."
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Terrill listens to the rest of Rialla's tale, then says quietly, almost to himself, "Hmmm, another dark-skinned Graycloak involved in this attack. I don't trust coincidences like that."
Looking to his companions, he says more clearly, "Well, we've still got one more lead to follow, of the ones Grandmaster Torch gave us. If that doesn't provide anything more substantial, I'm thinking we might do well to try to lay a trap for the attackers. I can pose as a courier, we can put the word out that I'm carrying some sort of valuable relic, perhaps something associated with Desna to make it believable - and I'll be the bait in the trap. But obviously, I'd rather just catch them than make myself look like an attractive target."
Looking up to the rooflines above, Terrill calls out, "Franton! Find anything useful up there?"
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Amme does her best to comfort the halfling, "As my companion pointed out, you did the best you could. It is rare that people would resort to such dastardly tactics especially when firing down into the public. They have no care for people, but you showed compassion. I am glad that if one of our Pathfinders had to meet his end, he met his end with you helping and looking after him."
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"Not yet! Morv's elf eyes are a little better for this than mine are though. I just like the view!"
Franton starts peering over the roof as Morvius climbs up beside him and begins a far more professional scouring of the area. He calls back to Terrill.
"Hey, ask that halfling if the Greycloak she spoke with had an accent! Osiriani or Kelish if we're lucky."
Morvius and Franton do not find anything on the rooftops.
Rialla is very grateful for the consoling but she has nothing more to give. She didn't really catch the woman speaking and the woman was gone before Rialla got back, so Rialla doesn't know which way she went.
Rialla seems genuine in everything she has said.
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As the party heads to meet with their third lead, they turn down a narrow alley to find their way blocked by two rough looking thugs. "You Pathfinders been askin' too many questions." one of them says before both raise their clubs and advance on the party.
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Round 1
HP 11/11
AC 12 FF 10 T 12 CMD 13
F/R/W 2/2/2
Prescience 7/7
Arcane Bond 1/1
Spells
0th - Light, Mage Hand, Ray of Frost, Detect Magic
1st - Burning Hands, Color Spray (cast), Comprehend Languages
Effects
None
Senken boldly moves forward, sending out a wave of colors towards the two thugs, hoping to end the fight quickly so the thugs can be questioned.
The thugs seem unaffected by Senken's spell. The thugs advance, waving their clubs at Senken.
Amme begins reciting tales of Pathfinders past. Wizzy fires a crossbow but misses. Terrill slashes at the nearest thug and knocks him unconscious. Franton and Morvius then quickly dispel of the second thug.
Each of them carried two doses of medium spider poison, studded leather, a club, a light crossbow, and 20 bolts. One of the thugs carries a small book written in Osiriani.