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Cirri scribbles down a picture of an owl and compares it to a winged bird humanoid. "Heehee! So close!" She circles the humanoid. "I wonder if they're related to Tengu..."
Cirri looks up and notices everyone else approaching. "Oh! Hi! I'm Cirri." She shakes everyone's hands. "I hope we do well today!"
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The Ulfen shieldmaiden of celestial heritage adjusts her sword in its scabbard as if to verify it is still there and derive some small comfort. Satisfied with the feeling of the steel under her hand she tussles with a loose blonde braid. Her holy symbol proclaims her as follower of Ragathiel.
"I missed the convocation. I had a run in at a recent Opera where things got somewhat complicated. Like Antonella, I don't deal in hope and faith. I favour directness"
"Frost, agent of Ragathiel"
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Cirri shudders when Frost mentions trouble at an Opera. "I hope you didn't have to deal with zombies. Hate 'em."
"As for the cold, though, I'm fine with that. I met this one Clan, the Snowmasks, and they did this ritual that felt so cold I was gonna be a popsicle! Instead though, I didn't feel too bad in extremely cold temperatures."
She giggles. "It explains why they ran around in furs and loincloths, though!"
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You have been called to the Grand Lodge of Absalom for a briefing. Seated in a small chamber around a darkwood table, various trophies gathered from across the face of Golarion hang from the walls. A monkey-shaped mask with a serpent’s tongue glares out from the center of one wall, a strange halberd with gold rings piercing its thick blade and dragons carved along its haft hangs opposite the monkey mask. You are alone save your fellow Pathfinders, who apparently have been called here for the same purpose.
After several long minutes a huge man with a winning smile, almost as fearsome as his size marches into the room. He looks at each of you, as if he were appraising a handful of gemstones freshly pulled from the earth, and nods curtly. Some of you know him as Adril Hestram, a longtime Pathfinder and rumored to be the unwitting architect of the famed Katapesh slave riot of 4702. Adril’s physique puts most half-orcs to shame.
“Welcome, friends. We have a serious problem. Skelg the Ripper came to Absalom one month ago. Like many Ulfen warriors he joined the Longaxes, the Taldan Emperor’s personal guard whose duty it is to protect the embassy and Taldan visitors. Skelg also dropped a hefty sum of gold to purchase a manor in the Ivy district, something a Longaxe isn’t paid well enough to do. It is widely assumed that he brought most of his wealth with him from the north—a rumor I know to be true.
“It seems that Skelg also brought a curse with him. In his letter to me, he speaks of lying abed in this miserable summer dying from the cold. Neither physician nor priest has been able to cure his ailment, and there are no signs of disease or poison. Of course, for such a man, there is no greater dishonor than to die in bed instead of in battle.
“Normally, the Pathfinder Society would monitor these events and let the authorities deal with them. However, there are three factors that have drawn our interest. First, Skelg is himself a member of our Society and has asked for our help. Second, he is a personal friend of mine, and finding a sparring partner as worthy as Skelg to replace him would be a trying task. Last, he claims that artifacts of great power are involved, and that we may be able to recover them for the vaults of the Grand Lodge.
“We view this situation as having enough importance to assign you to investigate it. Go to the home of Skelg the Ripper, learn what you can, and do your best to help him. If you find an item that is somehow connected to the curse, either retrieve it or glean as much information as you can about it.
“I trust there are no questions?”
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"Errr, my apologies Master Hestram. Are the Taldane involved in this matter? He is one of theirs too if I understand correctly."
The woman speaking has not introduced herself yet, she wears a mithral chain shirt and has an Aldori dueling blade at her side. On the pack beside her she has placed a hat with an outrageous feather, better suited for costume parties than for exploring.
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Hennet leans back in his chair, and the purple jeweled butterfly adorning his rapier's pommel catches the light for a moment. The halfling's blonde hair lights up for a moment from the flash, giving him somewhat of a surreal look.
This seems a lot more interesting than most missions. I second Frost's question. What has Skelg said of these artifacts? Should we purchase anything special to deal with them?
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"Errr, my apologies Master Hestram. Are the Taldane involved in this matter? He is one of theirs too if I understand correctly."
Like I said. He recently joined the Longaxes. The Emeror's Personal Guards. Try and keep up. This does not look like the Taldane are involved directly in this matter.
"Does he have any enemies here in Absalom? What do we know of these artifacts?"
“If I knew, I would have said. Go ask Skelg.”
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Hestram lets you know that he lives in Greydog Manor, on Parkview Street in the Ivy district.
Parkview Street is true to its name, running the entire length of the Ivy District park. Standing like a tomb in a flower garden, Greydog Manor is easy to find. Six-foot-high walls surround the massive, stone building and an immense iron gate flanked by granite statues of hunting dogs stands open, offering access to the interior. Looking along the street, it is clear that locals give the estate a wide berth. The stone walls seem to give a slight chill to the air, which is not entirely unpleasant on such a hot day.
The manor has several windows that can be seen from the street, but all have curtains drawn. The building itself is 40 feet by 40 feet, and the courtyard at the front is the same size.
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Hennet smiles.
I can call upon the power of Desna herself, and use the spell on my own. No need to use up your wand on my account.
As the party heads toward the manor, he hums a bit under his breath and checks all of his adventuring gear, making sure the items in his bandoliers are present and accounted for and the like. He approaches the front door with Isabella and stands ready, one hand on the hilt of his rapier and the other in his pocket.
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Banquo takes the wand from Antonella, bowing slightly, "It would be my pleasure." He returns the wand afterward.
He looks to the halfling, smiling at his hummed ditty.
"I'd like to take this moment to thank all of you for allowing Angel and me to accompany you on this mission. It sounds... intriguing."
Angel, Banquo's eidolon, greets everyone quietly with a nod.
Banquo continues, "Do not let his appearances fool you. Angel may in fact look like an angel, but can be a brute in a fight. Hopefully, though, we won't need him much in that department for this mission."
With a slight touch, Banquo casts guidance on Angel.
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Entering the large courtyard to approach the front door you find that the courtyard is cool and shady compared to the street outside. Dead leaves are scattered across the flagstones and the granite steps where two Ulfen warriors stand. Each man wears a chain shirt and a surcoat bearing the Taldan crest and carries the traditional imperial guard long axe.
The guards look at you sternly, and one of them speaks as he holds a hand up to block you path. “Skelg is ill. He wants no visitors.”
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Banquo looks around at all the "enduring elements" that going on. Telepathically communicating with Angel, "Think I should put on some cold weather gear?"
"Can't hurt, can it?" Angel replies.
"But if it's not cold in there, it'll be super hot."
"If you're going to cry about it, then don't put it on. But if you go in and it's freezing, that's on you."
Banquo scrunches his brow at Angel. "I know you look all majestic with your perfect skin and never out of place hair, but you can be a real jerk sometimes."
Angel looks around to the other companions. "I don't know if this is the time for all of this, Banquo. We're kind of busy right now with these guards. And for the record, you're the one being a jerk right now."
"No! You're the jerk, you stupid Angel!"
Banquo notices everyone is looking at him. Banquo sheepishly puts on his cold weather outfit.
He then notices something odd about the guards. He tells Angel telepathically that the guards are wearing their surcoats backwards.
Banquo addresses the guards, "Ah, we know, we know. And we are concerned about his health. We have come to see if there is anything we can do to help. Do you gents know if his ailment is contagious at all? I ask because you two seem... a bit uncomfortable."
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Hennet's brow scrunches for a second when he sees the guards, but his hand stays in his pocket. The other hand, however, slowly tightens its grip on the hilt of his rapier nonchalantly.
He must be very ill indeed, to not notice that his guards have their coats on backwards... We're here to help him, however. We need to speak with him immediately.
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Know Nob
Frost does't even try conceal her suspicions, and simply offers a flat and even suggestion in a neutral tone.
"Et hus skjult fra dagslys med tykke gardiner, og dine tunikaer er på bakover. Ikke veldig overbevisende. Vi er her for å se Skelg, du er her for å stoppe oss, men vi har tallene i dag så kan være fornuftig."
"A house concealed from daylight with thick curtains, and your tunics are on backwards. Not very convincing. We are here to see Skelg, you are here to stop us, but we have the numbers today so lets be sensible".
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As if we would let you see that coward. He will be on his way to Valhalla soon enough.
The two men swing around with a greataxe aimed at Frost and Angel as they fly into a fit of rage.
Isabella
Antonella
Lucky
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Ulfen Warriors
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Banquo (Angel 12/25)
Cirri
Frost (14/29)