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"I believe they're assembling for the requisite speechifying and huzzahing. Me, I'm here for the copious amounts of free booze and the resulting poor decisions made following its inception. I'm Imbroglio Guarini, but most folks call me Vinnie. It's on account of my inherent friendliness." The Varisian man could charitably be called a poppinjay or a caricature and would happily take the compliment. He's handsome, with bright colored clothing and a svelte black goatee. He gestures with a nearly empty drinking glass and his grin is wide enough to drown in.
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"Perhaps you mean 'ingestion?'" Says a voice from a few feet behind Vinnie, as cold and emotionless as Vinnie's is boisterous and alive. It belongs to an Elf of typical build for his kind, with straw-blonde hair and eyes like oval walls of polished ice. He wears fine white clothing, and carries a large black bag.
'Inception' refers to the moment, or even the *act,* of a thing beginning, you understand...or perhaps you do. After all, one could certainly say that many poor decisions have been made following the inception of, well, certainly the art of fermentation, but one could just as soon say...everything. You know what They say: In the beginning, the cosmos was created. This has since made a lot of people very angry, and has widely been regarded as a bad move."
He barely finishes his observation before there is a freak lightning strike just outside the building, momentarily overpowering all other sound with its thunderclap, and illuminating everything inside in jarring shades of black and white, and accentuating the skulls beneath peoples' faces until they almost look as if they'd breached their prison of skin and come to the surface.
That was a coincidence.
The Elf extends a gloved hand without otherwise moving forward. "Dr. Zephyrus Vitruvian, University of Lepidstadt," He manages to get in before a smaller secondary bolt hits.
That's a coincidence, too.
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Dr. Vitruvian is static-faced for a moment as he tries to properly judge that statement (and remember what "chlamata" is, assuming he ever knew).
"Broadly speaking," He finally replies, "I suppose I would have to agree."
He fetches himself a tall flute of apricot pálinka from behind the bar, returns, and gives it an enigmatic stare before holding it up to Vinnie's. "It's the dose that makes the poison, after all. Here's to life."
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Hi! Both of you! The halfling seems pleased with the introductions of both Pathfinders. I'm Quiven and I'm a burglar. Well, I don't really steal anything, its not like that. Well, unless I need to for a mission. I'm also a sculptor and an alchemist!
Quiven then reaches into his bag and retrieves a banana, subconsciously unpeeling it and start to enjoy his snack. You know, I hope its not just the three of us. I prefer a larger group of... oh! You guys want one? I have plenty! The burglar offers up another banana for those who accept. I never liked bananas until that one time... anyway, I'm excited about this!
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A tall, muscular man fairly clanks as he walks. His plate armor is freshly burnished and he carries an assortment of weaponry.
"Well met, fellow Pathfinders. I am Oswin Durnhelm, faithful servant of the Inheritor. They told me this group needed a holy man. But I won't try to convert any of you. I realize this path is not for everyone. In any event, I will not hesitate to call upon my lady's blessings to aid us in our task"
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Artian starts to worry as he hears "Inheritor", Oh no, no more lunatics but as Oswin continues introducing himself he sighs in relief.
My name´s Artian. I serve to the Society with my sword and my spells, and sometimes even with my words.
Thanks for the banana Quiven, but I´m not hungry now. Artian puts himself nearer to Quiven, Vinnie and Dr. Zephyrus, than to Oswin, It doesn´t look deliberate, only as if he´s unconfortable.
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A northern woman with the hair so blond it seems white closes to the group. Despite she is not particularly beautiful, her way of moving and voice is particularly appealing "Greetings fellow pathfinders. My name is Pandora Soulkeeper and I am grateful of sharing your company on this day. Do we know why we have been called?"
At the woman's back hangs a beautiful bow of elven manufacture.
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The City of Absalom is abuzz with excitement. The streets are full of revelers and feasting, as residents celebrate the city’s independence from tyranny. All seem most eager to witness the evening’s biggest event, the annual Passion of the First Siege of Absalom, where hundreds dress in elaborate costume, don fake armor and weaponry, and crowd the Irorium floor to participate in a mock combat, reenacting the first siege of Absalom. As pathfinder's of almost extreme importance, your tickets are for mezzanine seats. The field seats, located right by the stage, are reserved for only the top echelon of the society. The mezzanine level sits just above the field seats, though it is entirely separated from them. The mezzanine has a slight overhang that extends over the last two rows of field seats. These seats are open to the general public; however, they cost a couple of gold pieces apiece (depending upon the event), and thus their occupants tend to be middle and upper class citizens. The mezzanine is the central hub of the Irorium, providing access to all other levels as well as the most of the exits. It connects to five of the Irorium’s exits: the main gate and the four side exits. From the mezzanine, several sets of stairs climb to the upper levels as well as descend to the field seats. As you wait for the gates to open so you can be seated, you are offered refreshments by runners and trinkets by passing salesmen. As groups begin to form by their seating arrangements, you all gather together, as your seats are all in the same cluster.
You see the Pathfinder that gathered you all, Kel Na'Yaa, off in the distance with another group, and he gives you a small wave before turning his attention to a dice game being played by those in his group.
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*Earlier* Oswin perceives the slightest bit of unease in Artian, and begins to fidget a bit, appearing awkward. It is odd to see in a seasoned agent.
He nods at Quiven:
"Yes, I often refer to my goddess by her honorific to avoid sullying her blessed name with my mortal tongue. As for the fruit, I appreciate it very much. Bananas are a rare treat for me. I've had too much dried meat and hardtack of late."
He is about to raise the banana to his mouth when Pandora introduces herself. He pauses, his face transfixed for a moment by her voice. He recovers himself in a moment.
Bowing slightly, he says:
"My Lady, it is truly an honor to serve beside such an elegant person."
*At the festival*
"I truly enjoy these events. I hope they do their best to honor the brave sacrifice made by our ancient defenders."
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Hi Pandora, it´s a pleasure to see you in a social contest. I just hope things don´t mess up like that last time with the Aspis attacking us
After greeting an older companion at arms, Artian turns to the rest of the pathfinders to participate in the conversation. I tend to not enjoy this things. I know people want to celebrate when they, or they ancestors survived, but the only two pathfinders I´ve seen dying, both died in one of this events.
Forgive me if I´m not in good mood. Then Artian´s hand goes to one of his pocket to touch the jewel kept inside.
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Dr. Vitruvian stares straight ahead. A large journal is in his hand, and a pen in the other, but for the time being, at least, his hands are just as still as his face.
"Perhaps...they should stop doing it, then."
He pauses abruptly for a moment before resuming.
"If they're hoping to prepare for some similar event in the future, this is a terrible way to do it - not that such an event is at all unlikely, but surrendering to such atavistic faith in the Past will only leech them of the creative power needed to find victory in the Future. Which will always be unwritten." There is an odd and disturbing emphasis in the way he delivers that final clause.
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Pandora smiles warmfully at Oswin words "I am grateful to have this well educated company during the memorials. I think we will have fun here"
At sight of Artian the woman answers to the greeting "That one was a tough one. Happy the Aspis are now neutralized and things coming back to normal little by little. It is nice to met at a more pleasant time Artian"
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The City of Absalom is abuzz with excitement.
The streets are full of revellers and feasting, as residents celebrate the city’s independence from tyranny. All seem most eager to witness the evening’s biggest event, the annual Passion of the First Siege of Absalom, where hundreds dress in elaborate costume, don fake armour and weaponry, and crowd the Irorium floor to participate in a mock combat, reenacting the first siege of Absalom.
I suggest you do what you need to prepare yourselves and then get to the Irorium to find yourselves some seats...
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The call goes out, and the gates open! It's time for everyone to head toward their seats, and you all gather your gear to do so. Your seats are on the mezzanine level, which requires a bit of walking to get to the correct gate. As you make your way through the streets, a lean-faced man hiding behind a long cowl slips alongside.
A moment of your time, please... he says and pulls you aside, into the shadows of a nearby alley.
It seems we have two things in common, an eagerness to participate in good celebration, and this. He punctuates his sentence by holding out an elaborately carved wayfinder, the type only granted to Pathfinders of great importance.
I assure you, its mine, he adds quickly, closing the device and tucking it back into the folds of his cloak with a quick, easy motion, then continues, I know a good number of you are already planning to attend the festivities this evening. I need but a casual favor. An old associate of mine, Charvion Eater-of–Bones is set to make an elaborate display of some artifact he claims to have recovered. I’ve not had contact with him in a year or so, and I’ve a curious feeling about the event. More I cannot say; however, I’d appreciate you keeping an eye on whatever stunt he’s considering. He’s a natural charlatan that one. Just keep an eye out is all—nothing serious. Don’t let him know that you’re watching, and do not approach the artifact during the showing. Most importantly, tell no one of this conversation.
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Vitruvius recognizes the pathfinder as Osprey, a druid of reknown, who gives briefings to lower ranking Pathfinders from time to time. Charvius is infamous for his nickname, the Eater-of-Bones, and recently discovered some Azlanti artifact that potentially would allow the wielder to commune with the spirits of the dead... the same artifact that he is apparently planning to unveil at today's celebration in the Irorium.
Osprey smirks when he realizes that he's been recognized, and answers you all with a condescending wave of his hand.
My reasons are my own. Just make sure nothing happens. Keep an eye on this artifact, and make sure Charvius doesn't pull any funny business.
With that, he backs away into the alley, and after a second you all see a bird of prey take flight, and fly off into the distance.
Guests alike make their way down the street towards the Irorium where the cacophonous din of over a hundred conversations begins to overwhelm your senses.
The Irorium has five public entrances, the main gate and four side gates. A sixth gate to the south is a work entrance reserved for gladiators, arena workers, and other performers.
You make your way through the main gate - your tickets indicating you have general access to any seats that are available on the mezzanine level. Here, a 20-foot-wide stone arch opens onto an equally wide marble stairwell that descends out onto the street. It takes no time at all for you to find decent seats near the edge of the mezzanine, looking out over the field seats and the performing grounds.
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Irorium - "Welcome to Absalom! On this glorious eve we gather again in celebration of our wonderful city and its freedom from tyranny. We present to you all — the Passion of the First Siege of Absalom! A performance great and terrible, reenacting Absalom’s victorious slaughter of Warlord Voradni Voon’s troops upon the city’s rocky shores. As the highlight of this years performance, directly following the Passion, the Pathfinder Society has generously agreed to a public unveiling of its latest acquisition, a terrifying device dredged from ancient ruins in the Mwangi Expanse. And now, ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The performance is about to begin!"
The Passion is long, tediously so, though the rowdy crowds more than entertain themselves, booing and cheering th performers and throwing rotten cabbages. In all, it turns out to be a fine afternoon of celebration.
Following the performance, a large stage is wheeled in to the west side of the Irorium. The stage is covered with a large curtain. Beneath is a scaled set of a ruin and in the center stands a bizarre, cage-like structure of weathered metal covered with strange runes and other ornate etchings. A man who fits the description of the Pathfinder known as Charvion Eater-of- Bones stands next to the cage.
“Good evening, friends! On this auspicious night I present to you an incredible spectacle, the type of which you have never seen before. From the darkest jungles of Mwangi, I have procured an ancient device, an artifact capable of ripping through the very cloth of our reality!” Charvion touches something on the cage, and it falls open, slowly unfolding like a blossoming flower. He steps inside, and the cage begins to close around him, crackling with swirling tendrils of mystic, silvery ether.
In an ominous and unearthly voice he bellows, “I am now fused to the ethereal plane—the realm of ghosts! Ask me what you will, and the dead shall answer through me! But be wary of what you seek, for you may not like the answers.”
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Charvius is busy answering questions from hundreds of people, but Oswin's voice rings out in the stadium, and Chavius looks dead at him and answers.
Yes, she would. She says that she is at peace in the afterlife, and understands that he has mortal needs still. She also asks that you remind him to wash his dishes as soon as he is finished with them, or his future wife will be just as annoyed as she was before her untimely death!
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Artian is surprised the artifact had not blown away half the Irorum or caused a similar disaster.
Then he sees how Osprey and Vinnie start asking questions to the man, whi is much more than "keep an eye", at least for him. It´ll be better if I lay down, if that bone-eater tries something against Osprey and Vinnie at least he wount know how many allies they have.
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Dr. Vitruvian is silent a moment before abruptly calling out, "Yes, I have some questions. They are all VERY important, and they are as follows: What is the velocity of Groetus's approach toward the Boneyard? Has this been consistent, and for how long? What is His orbital inclination relative to the Boneyard? Has this been static or changing, and by how much and for how long? Is His apparent mean radius consistent, or has it or does it ever changed or change? By what precise mechanism does Pharasma's feeding Him the souls of atheists work to repel him from the Boneyard - and what, precisely, is truly meant by 'feeding?' Can you verify the rumor that He speaks with a so-called archaic or foreign inflection, and if so, can you possibly identify or 'place' said inflection more specifically? Are there any among you who can describe Groetus's surface? What is His surface gravity? Have melons, strawberries, or roses ever been sighted there, and if so, what condition were they in, and what of the condition of the surrounding turf? When Philosopher's Gold is created or presented, is there any discernible reaction from Groetus or His three foremost servitors? Oh, and strictly of ancillary note, why did the harpy who killed me harbor such gross loathing for Elvenkind?"
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For the first time since you've met him, Dr. Vitruvian looks like he's actually feeling something.
"NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO, NOT NOW!!! THAT'S NOT FAIR!!!"
He grabs his bag, stands up, and looks around for where to go....
As he does so, he pulls what looks like a horribly-burned black biscuit out of his bag and eats it.