The light from the rising sun performs a splendid dance upon the windows of Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch’s Magnimarian manor house as she pours the coffee. Her young servant brings in a platter of fine pastries and well-ripened fruits, setting them within easy reach before withdrawing quietly.
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A gnome clad in fashionable attire who is clearly excited to be joining such stalwart adventurers, sits excitedly in the middle of the room, trying each sweetmeat and fruit in turn, though putting most of them back with a single bite missing. Periodically, the party sees a silver-black weasel poking its head out of the gnome's silvery stack of hair before rustling away into hiding again.
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"HINGLE McCRINGLEBERRY! I haven't seen you and your gnomish magic fingers in AGES.... I think the last mission was..." The dwarf wingles his fingers to count, and the sharp-eyed can see the tips of his boots moving too. "It was about 6 months ago! Good to see ya!"
Brak grabs one of each thing on the tray and is already chewing on a few of them when he nods at the Venture-Captain. "Oi, thanks. Always good food here."
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Garrick Beregost steps into the room, "Am I late?" he asks as he scans the room. He smile politely are the gathering and takes a seat. Noticing the coffee he leans forward and pours himself a cup. He takes a small sip, them withdraws a flask. He pours a measured amount into the mug while saying a quiet prayer. Garrick raises the mug to the group and says, "To your health.' He takes a sip and seems satisfied. he quietly offers the flask, first to the Dwarf then the Gnome.
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Ah, yes! Yes, Brak, it is most excellent to see you again! Hingle appears genuinely pleased to see the dwarf. It HAS been ages, hasn't it? My goodness, six months. So much can happen in six months. Like, for example, twenty six weeks! One hundred and eighty two days! And a ridiculously high number of hours which is best off not counted!
The dwarf's hearty handshake easily carries the slight gnome off balance as he nods to the newcomer. Welcome, welcome! How long have you been a Pathfinder? Have you seen much danger? Do tell, do tell!
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A strong looking, brown haired, serious faced gnome is in the room. He seems to be checking his pockets and backpack to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything. He then brushes off some of his clothes and armor to make sure he is at least presentable. He carries a longsword, short sword, and dagger, and is wearing breastplate. The longsword bears a Glyph of the Open Road that emanates as magical.
"Hello, my name is Chip. Enemy of the Aspis and loathe of any place as corrupt as where it sounds we're going! And yes, gnomes never count in hours. Such a subdivision of time..."
Chip is interrupted by a badger that comes up and licks his face right on the tongue. The badger then bows his head as it expects the oncoming scold.
Venture-Captain Heidmarch purses her lips in a prim line and waits for Chip to get a handle on his pet. Then she begins in her characteristic low, breathy voice.
"As I'm sure you’re well aware, much of the reason Riddleport was founded where it was is because of its easily defendable position as well as the enigmatic Cyphergate, which has baffled scholars since its discovery. The Pathfinder Society has a keen interest in the Thassilonian monument as well, since solving its mysteries would undoubtedly unlock a number of other secrets regarding that lost empire. The Order of the Cyphers has been amassing support from outside sources for some years now, and scholars from all over the Inner Sea have come to aid Elias Tammerhawk and the cyphermages."
Heidmarch takes a bite out of a chocolate-filled biscuit--carefully selecting one that Hingle has not touched--before continuing. "Just recently, however, we received word from Elias himself that several of the visiting scholars haven’t arrived in Riddleport Bay as expected. It seems as though a band of raiders, led by the Vudran pirate Alejia Netrav, has been intercepting the ships at sea, killing the crews, and destroying the ships. While Riddleport is hardly a stranger to the likes of pirates, Overlord Cromarcky has declared it illegal for any ships that wish to return to Riddleport Harbor to attack ships bearing the Riddleport flag. Alejia’s ship is clearly coming from Riddleport--the attacks all took place just outside Riddleport Harbor--but attempts to identify her ship have been unsuccessful so far."
She coughs lightly into a napkin. "I needn’t explain to you that the Pathfinder Society is also very much interested in the secrets of the Cyphergate, and that the deaths of these knowledgeable scholars have severely hindered progress in unraveling the artifact’s mysteries. The unexplained attacks are beginning to wear on the other sailors of Riddleport as well, and if something isn’t done about the matter soon, there will be no shortage of civil unrest, if not downright anarchy." She spits the word like a fish-bone.
"In a few days, a ship called the Topaz Titan is scheduled to arrive in Riddleport Harbor from Minkai, bearing the acclaimed Tian scholar Hirako Gurukaza--who is also a former member of our Society. We fear that he may be Alejia’s next target, and your task is to prevent her assault at all costs, both ensuring Hirako’s safety and shoring up our relationship with Tammerhawk. I have heard rumors that some of Alejia’s cronies have been storing their stolen goods somewhere in the Wharf District, so that might be a good place to start your investigation. While in Riddleport, keep a low profile and try to avoid pulling any of the crimelords into the situation. Tammerhawk would appreciate discretion and subtlety if possible. Regardless, there is little time to waste, as there is no knowing exactly when the pirates will choose to strike the Topaz Titan."
The Venture-Captain takes a long sip of her coffee and awaits her agents' questions.
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"Hingle, you hear that? subtlety and discretion HARHARHA!"
Brak looks that the others, "Well, sounds about right. I'm here to be the negotiator. But who can find these guys in time? Where to? Also, what make of pirate is this one?"
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"I expect that you will be the ones to find her in time," Heidmarch replies with a touch of testiness. "As for Alejia, she is likely a rival pirate. When I spoke to Elias, he was very cryptic about why someone would want to hinder his efforts as Speaker of the Order of Cyphers so much, but if I had to take a guess, I’d say this is a direct attack against Elias, rather than the scholars themselves. I doubt that the Topaz Titan’s crew is aware of the threat Alejia poses. While she is a lowly pirate, Alejia possesses more enemies than friends in Riddleport, having back-stabbed many business partners to get to where she is now. Her sudden disappearance and recent activities have only spurred public resentment of her, and many would like to see her dead. In any case, don’t be surprised if your investigation gets you entangled with some of her less savory ex-associates."
The Venture-Captain pats a paper on her desk. "As for getting to Riddleport, trade between Magnimar and Riddleport is strong at present, and there are ships leaving several times a day to traverse the Varisian Gulf for the City of Cyphers. I have arranged passage for you on a Taldan cargo ship called the Opparan Opal that will be leaving within the hour. Hurry to the docks, and you’ll be in Riddleport before you know it. You should arrive well before the Topaz Titan."
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"Ugh, Riddleport. Reminds me too much of my home town, Bloodcove. Terrible places those are, and those damned pirates always causing trouble."
"Low profile? Time for this again." Chip takes out a small cloth and wraps cross-ways over the hilt of his longsword. It's still usable, but hides the Glyph of the Open Road from being visible.
"We need to be the ones conducting the investigation, eh? Can do."
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Werner Albern steps into the room, sees the meeting is well on its way, and apologizes profusely. "I vas delayed in my travels, but no excuse. Vat have I missed?"
The tall man takes a seat, adjusting his greatsword as he does so. The symbol of the Lucky Drunk, a tankard, adorns his cloak. "Nevermind. Please continue."
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A tall, stoic elf stands in the back corner, watching the briefing quietly. He wears a shiny mithral chain shirt openly, while a long cloak drapes from his shoulders. One hand never seems to leave the hilt of his sword.
"Riddleport is not a place to be trifled with. We must take care to not arouse suspicions, or else we are likely to find daggers coming from the shadows. I will do as you ask, Venture-Captain Heidmarch, and then report our success."
Tarael seems the Venture-Captain's kind of elf. She nods in acknowledgment. "Please fill the Caydenite in on the way. Your ship awaits."
The journey to Riddleport is swift and without much incident. The word from the Cyphermages is that the Topaz Titan is expected in two days' time.
After hours of poking heads into shops and chattering at bars, the Pathfinders learn a few things. Hingle shares a beer (or, more precisely, a flight of beers) with a halfling at a pricey inn off the Wharf called The River Runner, and the fellow (named Imil Shallowkeel, or so he says) shares that Alejia's gang is well-known among the pirate gangs of Riddleport--even before her latest unlawful attacks on the Riddleport flag.
Werner has a little more luck in the Golden Goblin Gambling Hall, though not luck of the monetary variety. Sitting at a Ghoulette table, which employs an animated goblin head that insults the players, the Caydenite strikes up a chat with the dealer, Lixy Parmenter. "Alejia Netrav? Yeah, nasty snake, that one. You know she's a vishkanya, from Vudra or somewhere? Looks human enough--not as pretty as me, mind--but I hear their blood and spit is poisonous. Her crew's no better. Ruthless, the lot of 'em. Very efficient at commandeering and sinking their targets though, got to give 'em that. I hear they switch ships or even alter them somehow to conceal Alejia's true whereabouts."
Chip also finds some interesting news. Speaking to an old acquaintance, a dwarf who works a gas-forge by the Wharf, he learns that shady folk have been paying locals in the Wharf District to keep quiet about anything they might see or hear, and some mercenary dockhands have found work hauling oddly-shaped cargo to what was thought to be a derelict building. Indeed, although the dockside Wharf District was once one of the most prosperous parts of Riddleport, in recent years the district has declined into a state of shabbiness, and crime is rampant throughout many of the run-down shops and warehouses. This warehouse might be a place to check out.
The foul, mucky weather is enough to make any possible source of refuge look at least a little more hospitable, but the tattered sides of this rundown building have clearly seen better days. The waterlogged boards that hold it up have numerous holes that have been boarded over with newer planks. The warehouse’s few windows are high off the ground and intermittently broken; those still intact are far too grimy to see through anyway. While the building itself hardly looks like a viable base of operations, a flicker of light can be seen from within. The east and west loading doors are closed, as well as the narrower south door, which has a sliding peep hole built into it at eye level.
A few still seconds pass. Then footsteps approach the door from the inside, and peep hole slides open. A pair of beady eyes under bushy eyebrows stares at Brak and the assembled lot behind him. "Get lost."
"Replacements? She didn't say nothin' about replacements. Reinforcements, you mean?" The eyes stare for another moment. "Well, alright. Come on in then. There sure is a lot of you..." The peep hole slams shut and the door swings open.
The interior is dark, lit by a single candle on the far side of the storeroom. Huge piles of crates fill the space, with enough space between them to walk around. In addition to the doorman, two other grunts watch curiously as the newcomers enter.
"She said to stay here and keep people out. Not much trouble. What's the news? When's she comin' back?"