Welcome! This is an accelerated PbP run for Black Waters (#0-06), which has a sequel in the new season called School of Spirits [1-5].
If you are signed up for the latter and want to experience the original, join us! I do ask that you only sign up, though, if you are ready to rock now, and can post multiple times per day in order that we finish on time. If you cannot keep up, you may get left behind in the Drownyard....
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In walks a man of rigid posture and stern countenance. He stands just under 2 meters in height, but is thin of frame. He is undoubtedly of Osiriani birth (and indeed his Taldane is slightly accented.) His pate is shaved clean, though he sports a meticulously maintained mustache and Van D&@+ beard. His clothes, obviously tailored, have the flowing fit of a desert dweller, but they are in rich black cloth of Vudrani styling. Racing throughout the folds and seams are cerulean highlights. His jewelry is simple, yet the quantity stands in contrast to the otherwise plain garb. Both his ears are pierced with gold and his fingers each bear simple golden rings.
This is Nemis.
"Salutations Pathfinders. I am eager to test our worth. Admittedly I have only been on a single mission thus far. My younger brother was my inspiration, and it was time to leave my guru."
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Dumm stands almost as a foil to the groomed and jeweled desert-dweller. His long hair is imperfectly washed and interwoven here and there with a small bone or a sharp tooth. His armor, clothing, and sling are made of dried animal hide. His only belonging that is clearly not of his own making is the large sword across his back. His corded muscles and easy gait speak to many hard years in the wild.
"Pathfinders summon I here," he says in broken Common. "Said... Said they use me. This I's first mission."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Draped sideways across a chair, peeling a pear carefully into one long strip with a dagger, he peers out at the opposites from behind his mussy hair. He is dressed in a Taldan Musketeer's jacket that is a bit too large with the sleeves covering his hands. Hopping up from the chair, he drops the pear into his pocket. "My name is Corvid Rhonabwy, but my friend's call me Fool," extending his hand to shake. "And this is Ilwynog," gesturing to a tiny brush fox protruding from his other jacket pocket.
"Bark!"
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"No joke Kon Kon." He turns to the Tien woman and nods his head. "I believe he means 火腿." he says in Tien.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. If I cared for either gods or luck, I believe this would be the time to seek their approval for the mission..." He lets the last trail off, as if he suddenly remembered that both the gods and luck are oftentimes the source of inspiration for Pathfinders.
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Feeding last bite of the PBJ sandwich to Ilwynog, he draws up a wineskin of hard cider and squeezes a stream right into his mouth. "Who are we waiting for? I thought this expedition was of urgent importance?"
The brush fox sniffs the air excitedly towards Kon Kon and then towards Dumm, retreating quickly into the pocket with a whine, "It's ok my friend, not everyone can help how they smell."
Producing a long dark wood pipe from the inside of his jacket, he lights it expertly with a a fire striker designed like an ouroboros. Sweet and fragrant smoke swirls about his head as he takes short puffs from the pipe.
On a brisk fall evening, you are all invited over to the home of a venture-captain to discuss your next mission. He offers chairs and drinks, wipes sweat from his brow, and dives into business.
Venture-Captain Drandle Drenge, a stout and hardy Taldan with thin, graying hair and a thick, bushy mustache, unfurls a map on his butcher-block table and places a meaty finger on the parchment. “The abandoned district of Beldrin’s Bluff was once the gem of Absalom’s Precipice District—now it is but a weathered crag of broken rock at the edge of the roiling sea. When the great quake hit ten years ago, entire blocks of the Bluff sheared from the mainland. Cliffside tearooms and exclusive estates fell into the waves and carried hundreds of nobles to a watery grave. An elite academy, called the Tri-Towers Yard, remained on the mainland, but sank wholesale into the earth. Children unfortunate enough to survive the quake lay pinned under debris as sewer water slowly rose from the ground and drowned them. Nearly every student perished."
“Today, crumbled stone walls and weed-filled lots sprawl where gentlemen’s clubs once filled with pipe smoke and hobnobbing lords. The Drownyard—er, that’s what the illmannered call the school these days—lies behind a fence of black iron pikes, constructed by the families of the dead to discourage morbid trespassers."
“Even respected archaeological groups have been denied official access. Our own Society has itched to explore the site ever since the quake—that is, ever since we discovered that the school fell through the roof of a lost necropolis. Unfortunately, the emotional trauma attached to the school has remained fresh. But finally, after ten years of mourning, the politically-connected families of dead students have sanctioned our delve request.”
With a toothy smile and a clap, Drenge says, “I’m pleased to announce that I’ve selected your team for the delve. I want you to find a way into the necropolis, document your findings with professional detail, and recover artifacts of historical significance. The Society is interested in one artifact in particular—a two-finger ring topped with a ruby salamander.”
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Nemis speaks fluent Elven.
To Dreng, "necropolis? How old is it? What do you expect us to encounter? "
-Posted with Wayfinder
Drenge nods, and says “Moldering texts tell of a coastal necropolis, rich with ancient treasures. Until the Tri-Towers Yard sank, no one knew the necropolis’s location. We know very little about it.”
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Waiting patiently between each answer and pausing to allow others to ask questions, "Is the ring magical? It would certainly be easier to find." "What did they teach at the school?"
"Is there anyone we can talk to that didn't perish?" "Do we know where the ring was last seen?" "What do we know about the necropolis?"
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A tall, lean half-elf listens intently. He wears his platinum blonde hair long, and it loosely frames his face. His hand rests on his chin as if he is deep in thought, and the hand bears a rough brand of some sort.
He wears no armor, symbol of deity, or implements of magic-use. Instead, he wears the fine, flashy garb of a noble. Aside from a pack resting nearby, his only possession seems to be a finely-crafted blade. This sword appears to be a bit over three feet long and very slightly curved. The half-elf's long limbs and agile build seem well-suited to be a swordsman.
When he speaks, it is with a tone full of hubris.
"I am Erevan Stormstride. I am confident I...we...will accomplish this mission with ease. I am a disciple of the Aldori school of combat. I will not back down from any fight."
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"Ring? So we look for ring, and other importants, and just that?" Dumm shrugs. "I can do that."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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A squirmy halfling dashes into the room, Venture-Captain Drenge's servants close on his heels. "Good, I haven't missed the adventure!" He stops to catch his breath. "Wow, I've never been in a Venture-Captain's home before!"
He walks around the room, a smile spread wide across his impish face, extending his hand to anyone who will accept it. "Chup Spooner, at your service. My friends call me Spoony, though. You're all real Pathfinders, aren't you? I've never had the chance to work with real Pathfinders before! This is going to be fun!"
The number of questions makes Drenge light up with glee. "I am happy to see eager Pathfinders!"
"I don't know if the ring is magical, but I do know a little history. In ancient times, a wealthy merchant cut a ruby salamander ring from the hand of young cat burglar named Horastian. Horastian later became a renowned information broker and art collector. The Pathfinder Society hopes to magically locate the long-dead thief and his fabled hoard by using the ring as a divination focus."
"The school was an academy for the more affluent folk of Absalom. Reading, writing, and engineering were taught, as well as music and art - all of the basics for those that could afford education for their children. That was truly the saddest of days. I don't know if there were many survivors. Don't be surprised, though, if you get questions from the families of those who were lost."
"As for the rest, this is how we learn about the necropolis. You are among the first to see it in a very long time, and I expect detailed reports from you, Pathfinders!"
Drandle Drenge pulls an iron key from his waistcoat. "I leave you with the key to the Drownyard gate. Remember, the Drownyard is a deeply personal site for many powerful Inner Sea families. You will tread upon the graves of their children. Be sure to give the site the respect it deserves."
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"The Necropolis? Love that place. I eat there all the time. best jerky on the west side of Absalom." When he sees frowning faces as he looks around, Chup swallows hard. "Uhh, not the same place, I take it. Well, I'll bet they have good jerky at this other necropolis, too. You know what, give me a couple hours and I'll see what I can dig up. I know a guy who knows a guy, who, uhh, knows a librarian." He keeps smiling, but looks really nervous.
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Chup marvels at the amazing equipment the other Pathfinders have and the efficiency they exhibit when they go about planning for their adventure. With his head hung low, he digs in his pockets, but doesn't come up with much. "I'll contribute what I can, friends, but I'm afraid I won't be of much use in financing," he admits, then glances up at the taller, stronger members of the group and adds, "or transporting a lot of extra heavy gear."
Fool is certainly no fool. He hits the streets, collecting what information he can.
Beldrin’s Bluff was once an affluent cliff side neighborhood of Absalom, overlooking the Inner Sea’s glittering surface. Nobles and wizards alike erected estates and towers there, and merchants and artists flocked to the cliffs to entertain them. Then came the great quake 10 years ago—half of Beldrin’s Bluff tore from the land and fell into the sea, taking most of its citizens with it. The rest of the area was laid to ruin by the trembling earth and the surging sea. Some of Absalom’s oldest families were utterly erased. Terror and hatred filled the hearts of the survivors and restless spirits of the dead rose from their watery graves and prowled the night.
The quake struck at noonday. The children were buried in rubble, and as the sea frothed up from below.
Soon, he seems to draw some attention to your group. A page in full livery approaches Corvid, and presents him with a formal invitation written on delicate (and expensive!) parchment.
It reads:
Hero of the Society,
It has come to my attention that you and your cohorts
were chosen by the noble Pathfinders to enter and
explore what became of the Tri-Towers Yard. As my
daughter, Junia, was lost there during the great quake,
it seems only proper that you attend the banquet I am
holding tomorrow in memory of her. You and your friends
should wear your finest and arrive at the Dacilane Estate
in the Ivy District at sundown. As you are probably not
accustomed to the traditions of nobles, not attending
this dinner would be a serious slight upon the memory of
my daughter.
Sincerely,
Lady Miranda Dacilane
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" I've heard a little about this area. Beldrin’s Bluff was once an affluent cliff side neighborhood, overlooking the sea. Nobles and wizards alike erected estates and towers there, and merchants and artists flocked to the cliffs to entertain them."
"Then came the great quake 10 years ago—half of Beldrin’s Bluff tore from the land and fell into the sea, taking most of its citizens with it. The rest of the area was laid to ruin by the trembling earth and the surging sea. Some of Absalom’s oldest families were utterly erased. The children were buried in rubble as the sea frothed up from below. Terror and hatred filled the hearts of the survivors and restless spirits of the dead rose from their watery graves and prowled the night. Very sad."
"The quake was said to have struck at noonday."
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Mavaro missed the meeting with the Venture Captain. He was new in Absalom, and the complex network of streets was too much for him. He had other things on his mind than committing multiple maps to his memory after all.
At least he got the gist of the mission from a note that was passed to him by a servant of Venture-Captain Drenge and was able to locate the other Pathfinders.
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A man enters the room, wearing what could be called 'elegant clothes' over a chain shirt that sticks out slighty at the bottom of his shirt.
Several talismans hang around his neck, are strapped to his swordsheath or bag, some even dangling from different clothing items, including his gloves and belt.
Strapped over his enormous belly (for a pathfinder that is - a merchant would easily beat him), he wears a broad belt with a number of easily reachable small belt bags attached to it. There are more of these across his chest, making it look like the mockery of a bandolier.
When in a peaceful enviroment, he tends to wear his backpack over one shoulder like a handbag for easier access - It appears to have been modified to allow both modes of usage as needed.
A strange antique-looking sword in a simple ill-fitting sheathe hangs from his side. It's pommel fashioned into the visage of some kind of fiend - with rubies for eyes. One of the gems seems to be missing.
He has black shoulderlong hair and wears a well-trimmed beard - both cut in the latest Ustalivian fashion. Broad fuzzy eyebrows look at the assembled group in dissaproval from an angular face that seems to have seen many horrors.
"It appears you be my companions in this endevour? Name's Mavaro. I was late, having lost my way in this damned city. I much prefer the open field or small towns and villages. Much easier to find what one searches there." He surveys all who have gathered with a sour look, then continues.
"Were you able to find out anything worthwhile already by chance?"
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"I do possess a wand of healing, which I cannot use. It is in our best interests to make sure all are healed. You need only alerted to how much you use it."
"perhaps this engagement will result in supplies, or clues, or both."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Chup perks up when he hears the discussion of the healing wand. "Hey, I could probably get that thing to work for you if you need healing."
When the note is delivered, he beams, "A banquet? Why, I wasn't expecting this at all! It sounds like a great time, doesn't it?" He tries his best to dust off his clothing and leathers, but to no avail. "I hope they let me in like this."
You arrive at the address on the invitation to find a sprawling estate surrounded by a tall, wrought-iron fence and overly decorated in statuary,
fountains, and a carefully landscaped garden. Inside, you see true decadence! Everywhere you look, you see the over-the-top opulence of the Dacilane house interior, with gilded furniture, painted ceilings, gold-spun wallpaper, and valuable Chelish rugs that, if sold, could easily feed a family in the Puddles District for a year.
The Lady Dacilane is welcoming guests as they come in, and when she gets to you, she stops short, shocked and visibly appalled. She attempts to hide her distain by covering her mouth and saying, "Oh, yes... our intrepid explorers. Come... in... and let me show you off." She shows you (as if you were pets) to a number of guests, who vary in their ability to hide their disgust. With a few, she whispers into their ear something that causes the guest to blush, chuckle, or even outright laugh. You can tell that she thinks she is trying to be polite, but you don't really appreciate it.
However, as the night progresses, she does eventually steel her courage and speak to you. “My daughter Junia was one of so many children lost. Hundreds of them pinned under the rubble in that sinkhole. The black water rising—the kids screaming.” She quiets for a moment. “None of us could get to them.”
While at the party, you are approached by Amenopheus, The Sapphire Sage.
"The Tri-Towers Yard was an institute of great learning for Absalom’s elite—it was also a source of important intelligence offered to the Ruby Prince’s cause by the Headmistress, a woman of Osirion birth named Kiwu Quadin. Kiwu was a highranking spy among my inner circle. It is of grave import that you collect her records, if they still exist, and not allow them to fall into Pathfinder Society hands."
"Additionally, our great necromancer priests are seeking samples of a variety of undead from across Golarion. They believe you’ll find what they’re looking for in the necropolis beneath the Tri-Towers Yard. Find a living corpse of obvious noble birth—a king, perhaps—and bring a sample of that corpse’s body to me. Doing so will give our priests great insight into the world of the dead. Beware the restless spirits of the Tri-Towers Yard and may Pharasma’s shroud shield you from their rancor."
And then he leaves you abruptly, and hobnobs with other guests.
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"You speak as a witness lady. What can you tell us of the black waters and the Necropolis. You must also know that many died then. We will be exploring it, but a woman of your means could help us supply the trip."
Nemis is either oblivious to the disdain for his "station" or he simply doesn't care...