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A tall, distinctive man enters the empty room. He glances around and then grunts. "The Paracountess exceeds herself again," he says to no one. He tosses a bag onto a chair and walks over to a decanter of wine sitting on a side table. Pouring himself a glass, he surveys the room, wondering what other Pathfinders would find themselves coerced to coming here. He sips the wine, tapping on the glass as he waits.
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Bursting through the door comes a tall human with a belly like a barrel, a long wild unkempt beard. A fire in his eyes doesn't hide his crazed smile as he looks around at the rather quaint offices. With a rifle in hand he surveys the scene before realizing it is safe.
Seeing the only other man in here, he'll walk over and introduce himself, spittin' in his hand first before offerin' it.
"Wooooooeeeey, I sure done be excited ter be here! This be mah first mission. Name's Huckleberry Buck!"
Seein' the wine the man is drinking and the bottle it came from he'll grab the bottle and take a swig. "Ughk that's some of dat fancy pancy stuff, no thanks!" Wiping his mouth and beard on his sleeve of his outfit he'll turn back to the man, at this point, uncomfortably close "And who're yer supposed ta be?"
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A red haired woman slips in after Buck's outburst. She smiles charmingly and waves a hand towards the others.
"Hi everyone! I'm pleased to meet you all and I'm sure I'll have a lot of... fun."
She walks in and you immediately see that every move she makes display years of education. Her hair are fiery-red but you can sense that something is amiss about her appearance. Though she appears and wears clothes of a chelaxian noble, her aura seems otherworldly.
She hands a glass to Aiden, expecting him to pour her some wine. "The Paracountess, heh? Lovely lady." she says with a quick laugh. "I want her dead." she eventually says with a wink.
"Oh, sorry I forgot to present myself. I'm Segray Starnon, of house Starnon, Westcrown. My father Dioneo the first of his name (and some of his friends) raised the wiscrani people against the Thrunes' influence some years ago."
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Aiden seems startled by Segray's comment about the Paracountess and her expectation for him to pour her wine. He looks at her glass for several seconds before realizing her intent and taking the decanter to offer her some wine. He laughs as he does so. "Ha, if you want her dead, you'll need to get in line. Plus, I think you may be waiting a long time. The Paracountess is quite adept at manipulating her way out of any danger." It's not exactly clear whether he's praising her prowess or commenting on her repulsiveness.
He gives Buck an odd look for a few seconds and then raises an eyebrow at Segray. "I'm Aiden Richter. My family is from Egorian, but I've spent several years on the eastern end of Cheliax. Brastlewark, Laekastel, Misarias, and even Senara. I made my business in tracking...orphans. But the Paracountess has...'convinced'...me to turn my skills to the Pathfinder Society instead." He looks annoyed for a moment, but then shrugs and finally smiles at Segray. "As I said, she can be quite persuasive."
'Orphans' on the eastern edge of Cheliax, bordering Andoran? That can only mean runaway slaves. Aiden previously made his living re-capturing slaves making their way to Andoran and freedom.
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A brightly-clad halfling claps his hands together and surveys the room, grinning good-humoredly. He wears a strange medley of rough linens and fine silks and velvets, a handsome red coat over a porter's rags and a bright silk sash, adorned with trinkets and coins from all over Avistan. "Ah, fantastic! Is this everybody?" he says, pulling up a chair and hoisting himself into it.
He'll grab the decanter from Huckleberry and pour himself a glass, swirling it around and giving it a taste. "Tart, full bodied... Corentyn? Five silvers says I can guess the vintage." he boasts, putting on airs for a moment before grinning at the gunslinger. "Was swiping bottles of this from my master's cellars from my fourteenth birthday."
The bard lounges in the chair, far too large for him, with relative ease, sipping his wine and extending a hand to shake. As an afterthought, he meets Aiden's eyes. "I wouldn't be so forthright about your past, if I were you. There are some in the Society that don't take kindly to the subjugation and degradation of their fellow men." he says, still smiling, with only the slightest edge to his voice. He winks. "Name's Lem. Orphan."
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Boldren quietly enters the room and finds himself a seat at a distant table. The tall copper toned man stands well over six foot tall and displays a number of unique looking tattoos across his cleanly shaved head. His long articulate robe quickly identifies him as some sort of caster.
After sitting a backpack on the ground next to his feet, the tall lean man sits back in his chair and cautiously observes the room.
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"Um...Hi. I'm Rex—Rex Havoc." The man before you is not carrying much. He is dressed in Varisian style, but his clothes look old and threadworn. He fidgets with a harrow deck nervously. "Is this where I'm supposed to go? Someone told me that I'm supposed to meet my team here. I think. I have trouble remembering things sometimes."
He extends his hand. "My name is Rex—Rex Havoc."
Rex Havoc doesn't know who he was in his former life, not even his given name. He woke up in Numeria with nothing but some tattered clothes, an old ornate harrow deck, and profound psychic abilities.
In Numeria he was hounded by Technic League agents and Kellid barbarians alike. He met up with a kind-hearted paladin headed toward the Worldwound. She smuggled him out of Numeria, away from the wizards who wanted to dissect his brain for its power and from the barbarians whose superstitions demanded his death. It was she who gave Rex his current name.
When they reached Mendev, she suggested that he join the Pathfinder Society. Maybe they could help him unlock the secrets of his past.
The only clues he has so far—a heirloom harrow deck, tattered traveling clothes, and a thick accent—all point to Varisia as his land of origin.
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"Woooeey, this here's a party! They don't kid 'bout the society bein' a colorful group."
Huckleberry will watch people pouring themselves glasses from the decanter and harumph, instead grabbing the decanter for another swig straight from the source.
"Couple of Chelaxians, couple of Varisians, seems ter be a good mix." Turing to Rex after his introduction, noticing the Varisian garb and accent, "Where bout's you from, boy? Turtleback Ferry for me."
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Aiden chuckles at the group. "Well, She did say I would meet some interesting people."
He smiles at Lem and takes a drink of wine. "You're saying the fair-minded Andoran Pathfinders will judge me harshly for my past?" He shrugs. "It did it to put food in my mouth. I didn't always like it. I didn't always hate it. It was a job. Now, I have a new one. There are far more distasteful things done by people in Cheliax than what I've done."
He smiles at Lem again. "For the record, I do like halflings."
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Acknowleding Rex's claim with a nod and a grunt, "Hungh yeah, some Desna Damn Giants went and busted up some dam and flooded half the town, then a giant monster went and destroyed my home. I came here to get some help and some dwarf was yellin' this and that about Bacon so now here I am."
With a loud grumble, akin to some troll's growl, "And I'm still lookin' fer dat bacon!"
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Segray looks upon Richter's face a moment and then closes her eyes as she takes a sip. "A poor choice, really."
She looks over at Buck and asks almost impolitely "And you look more than well equipped for a mere peasant. I think you're not telling everything about the story, mister Buck." she says with a smirk.
"Callous bastard, aren't you?" he says, with a smirk. "For the record, I do like bastards. Just glad to hear you're hunting the monsters rather than working for them. I've a tale or tell that might bring you round to my way of thinking, but... some other time, eh? Don't like to pass judgement on anyone I haven't shared a drink with. -mm- ... next time, on me." he says, draining his glass and turning to the others.
Lem motions to the musket. "I think what her ladyship means to ask is where you got your hands on a nice piece of kit like that."
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Huckleberry will unsling his musket off his back and wave it around a bit, clearly he has no training in gun safety as he points it at just about everyone in the room
"Hah after that monster destroyed me house, I went down ta tha tavern ferra pint while it settled down but damn monsters got tha barkeep too. Couldn't stand that so I grabbed this here musket off the mantle and started shooting the biggest damn fish ya'd ever seen."
Taking another swig from the decanter of wine
"Figured I'd just take it with me on my trip to tha society, used it a coupla'more times to defend meself, starting to get pretty good with her."
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Aiden barks out a laugh at Lem. "Ha! Fair enough." he drains his wine glass. "And if you like me hunting monsters rather than my old job, then perhaps you have something to thank the Paracountess for." He gestures to underscore that bit of irony.
He turns to Buck and ducks as the man waves his musket around. "Whoa, Master Buck! How about you watch where you aim that thing? I've seen a few in my time and they are not toys." Aiden frowns at the man's freewheeling attitude. "If you really will be joining us," Aiden's tone seems to doubt that, "I hope you're a decent shot with it."
Water laps steadily at the pier as sailors, laborers, and merchants rush busily around Absalom’s port. The venture-captain’s summons called for a meeting aboard the Sixwing Drake, a sleek sailing ship. The Drake’s captain, a Varisian woman and fellow Pathfinder named Zarah Zendrani, stands at the helm of her vessel. “It’s not like Valsin to be late,” she mutters, furrowing her brow. As if on cue, a tall and meticulously groomed man pushes his way through the crowd and up the gangplank, cursing audibly. “Whoever supervises this mess of a port needs to be dumped in the sea!” he grumbles.
The tall man looks around at those gathered before him. “Just the group I requested. Perfect. I’m Venture- Captain Ambrus Valsin, and I took great care in selecting just the right Pathfinders for this assignment.” Valsin reaches into his belt pouch and withdraws a small, folded paper before continuing. “A few days ago, I received a curious note from a rather unexpected source. It’s not every day that I get a request from an agent of the Aspis Consortium.” Captain Zendrani’s eyes widen, and Valsin smiles knowingly. “But Magali Delroya does not appear to be your typical Aspis agent. As you surely know, the Aspis Consortium pursues a variety of activities across the Inner Sea that the Pathfinder Society finds abhorrent. It seems that Delroya has been working with them for some time, but can no longer stomach the snakes herself. She wants to stop a shipment of an experimental drug from leaving Diobel later this week. It’s bound for a number of locations across the Inner Sea region. According to Delroya, she can’t ask the local authorities for help, because the Aspis Consortium has already struck a deal with a faction of the Kortos Consortium, a powerful merchant collective. Her hands are tied, so she’s come to us for help. In this note, she outlines three different tasks that would help to disrupt the Aspis long enough for her to move the shipment to a secure location, out of the clutches of the consortium. Once you accomplish two of these tasks, she’s willing to meet with you, but not before.
“Normally, I wouldn’t trust an Aspis agent at any hour of the day. But our sources in Diobel have confirmed the Aspis and Kortos consortia’s activities. Everything checks out, so we are presented with a unique opportunity. If we help Delroya, we might not only strike a financial blow against the Aspis Consortium, but we could also reveal their dealings with the Kortos Consortium—and possibly prevent their arrangement from turning into a more formal alliance. Furthermore, we hope to stop this drug from spreading across the Inner Sea region, and if we—if all of you—do a good enough job, we might even convince Delroya to join the Society. A turncoat agent would be a valuable asset in our ongoing run-ins with the Aspis Consortium.
“Take some time to look over Delroya’s note and the tasks she has set for you. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask. Remember, the Aspis Consortium is a long-time enemy of the society, but the Kortos Consortium, while certainly suspicious, is not our enemy. It is a complex organization with many factions, and we should avoid antagonizing any of them, except when necessary to oppose the Aspis Consortium.”
The Venture Captin passes you the following notes.
I write to you out of desperation, and I can only hope that you hear me out, though
you may consider me an enemy. Our paths crossed years ago, and though we did not
see eye to eye, I trust that you will do what is necessary—what is right—regarding my
request to you today.
I am an agent of the Aspis Consortium operating out of your neighbor city, Diobel.
The Aspis Consortium has long been active in Diobel, but now its foothold is stronger
than ever: House Locosta of the Kortos Consortium lends aid to the Aspis’s smuggling
operations in exchange for valuable alchemical ointments from across the Inner Sea
region.
For years I have worked as a broker and go-between for the Aspis Consortium, but my
employment with them will soon come to an end. I recently discovered that the consortium
is experimenting on the poor and destitute of Diobel with a vicious and unpredictable
drug called whip. Next Fireday, Aspis agents will send a large shipment of this drug to
many cities across the Inner Sea region, with the intention of expanding whip experiments
and perfecting the drug. I intend to stop them, but I need your help. I cannot go to the
authorities—the Aspis’s arrangement with the Kortos Consortium offers it too much
protection.
I have made arrangements to move the shipment to a more secure location, where it
can be disposed of properly. You will forgive me for not trusting you with the location
immediately—first, I need proof of your Pathfinders’ skills and their willingness to help
me. The three tasks I describe on the attached note will each thwart the Aspis agenda.
Perform any two of these tasks and the consortium should be sufficiently delayed as to
allow me to enact my plans—and I will know that you are serious about offering aid.
When I joined the consortium, I did not know the extent of its evil—their members’
willingness to do anything for gold, no matter the harm caused. I cannot stop the group,
but I can be a thorn in its side. Lend me aid, Valsin. Send me your Pathfinders. Prove that
you are better than the Aspis Consortium.
—Magali Delroya
Dear Pathfinders,
Thank you for giving me the chance to explain myself, and agreeing to help me stop
the Aspis Consortium’s foul plot. As it stands, I do not have enough time to stop
the shipment, so I have compiled three tasks that would each delay the consortium’s
operations. Please select two of the three tasks to perform. Two disruptions could be
a coincidence, but with three disruptions, the consortium will almost certainly suspect
sabotage.
The first task is to disrupt a meeting between two agents, one each from the Aspis
and Kortos consortia. Somehow, a snooping Kortos agent caught wind of my plans,
and has set a meeting with an Aspis agent to reveal me and ruin everything. The bad
news: I do not know the identity of either agent. The good news: I know that they
intend to meet at a tavern called the Overflowing Oyster at noon on Oathday—the
day before the shipment of drugs is to leave Diobel. If you can disrupt this meeting,
you can prevent the Aspis from taking a closer look at my plans. However, you must
be discrete. Killing either agent, or revealing yourselves as Pathfinders meddling in the
Aspis’s operations, would only cause them to grow more suspicious. It may help to
know that the owner of the Overflowing Oyster is involved in creating fake pearls and
selling them on the black market.
The second task is to steal the shipping documents from the smuggling ship that the
Aspis Consortium intends to use for this operation. The ship is called Blue Dragon’s Bite ,
and it is scheduled to offload its current cargo in the Trawl district all day on Oathday.
The documents should be in the captain’s cabin. Find a way to get aboard and obtain
the documents without causing too much of a disruption, and you will cause a significant
delay in their plans. Remember, the Aspis Consortium is our enemy, but the dockworkers
are merely citizens of Diobel. If possible, they should not be harmed.
The third task involves the alchemist responsible for engineering the drug called whip in
the first place. He has picked up the unfortunate nickname Laszo the Leper because of
the drug-induced lesions and rashes that cover his skin. Laszo operates out of Diobel’s
sewers beneath Rat Street. Find his lab and bring back samples of unrefined whip, along
with the alchemist’s notes. These we can use as undeniable proof to the authorities
that the Aspis Consortium is experimenting with the drug in Diobel. Laszo is a cruel and
despicable man. Do what you must to obtain the evidence.
Complete any two of these tasks before the end of Oathday and I will give further
directions the following morning, assuming you were successful. Good luck, Pathfinders.
— Magali Delroya
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Rex reads the note thoroughly and thoughtfully, pondering each task in turn.
This first task seems doable. We can use the fake oyster trade as a cover. I think this might be within our skill set.
The second task involves stealth and subterfuge. Rex looks around the room, noting Lem, Thrandomir, and especially Huckleberry Buck. I think subtlety might be a good choice for us...
This third task, I think, is right up our alley, so to speak. This Laszo is despicable. Any who make their fortune on the misery of others deserve whatever harm comes to them. I am not the least unhappy to perform this duty. And I think the others will be happy for a more straight-forward undertaking.
Rex Havoc looks up from the missive. "Pathfinder agents, I believe we should tackle the first and third duties on this list. The first involves breaking up a meeting between agents of the Aspis and Kortos consortia without revealing our interference. The third is simply a matter of eliminating a vile drug peddler and bringing evidence of his dealings to the authorities. What say you?"
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Aiden reads the notes, taking when Rex is done. He regards the man as he takes the paper from him. Some sort of wizard, probably. Doesn't look like much of a fighter.
"The second might not be out of the question. We could try to hire on as dock workers for the day. But I agree, we may fare better at the first or the third task."
"If we can be inside the Oyster and find some evidence of the fake trade, then when the Aspis Agent arrives for the meeting, he might find it crawling with guards."
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Lem salutes the venture-captain before bounding up onto the taffrail to read over Aiden's shoulder. "Aspis Consortium. Slavers and worse. Oh, I'm going to have fun on this assignment." Lem says, perusing the notes with his ever-present grin. "Delroya's tip seems sound, and I'm liking the way you think, bounty hunter."
He sits, legs dangling several feet off the deck as he regards Rex thoughtfully. "Did you miss the part that we have to go trudging through a sewer? As much as that alchemist deserves a blade in the gut, I think that's a little above my pay grade..." he says, jokingly.
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Huckleberry Buck stands on the boat watching the exchange happen between his companions as they try and decide what tasks to tackle. Stroking his beard, he'll pull a turkey leg he had in a pocket and begin eating it as he listens.
Heh, reading, bah, I'll just let them figerr it out. . omph yeah, this is good turkey
"A'ight, s'bout time we get off this boat and get ta it, I'm good fer any of the missions," Dropping his half-eaten turkey leg on the planks of the boat he'll unsling his rifle and begin loadin' it with a bullet and some gunpowder,"Woooooeeeeey, long's we getta hunt us some snakes today!'
After he loads his musket, he'll bend down and pick his turkey leg back up, blow on it a bit and continue eating it.
Momma always said a couple seconds on the ground is just good seasonin'
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"Well, well, what do we have here? New players in the game of trade? The Aspis Consortium, I know of them. But I have neverheard anything about the Kortos Consortium. Is it a recent consortium? Could you tell us more about them?" asks the woman to the venture captain.
"Oh and do you really trust Delroya? Do you know anything about her?"
Saying this, she stands up, stirs up and gets ready to leave.
Ambrus Valsin looks pleased at Segray's questions. I met Magali several years ago,when she was barely a grown woman. It must have been just before she joined the Aspis Consortium. She’s a wanderer, never comfortable in one place for long. I saw great potential in her as a Pathfinder, but she always preferred to work alone and felt that the society was a poor fit. Had I known that she would wind up with the Aspis Consortium, I would have put more effort into recruiting her.”
"I'm not saying to trust her, but the offer seems legitimate. That's why we're sending you: to find out."
"As for the Kortos Consortium, that's a bit trickier. It pretends to be a legitimate merchant guild dedicated to stamping out smugglers, but it participates in its fair share of illegal activities. It is powerful enough to rival Diobel’s teriarch, or governor, Lord Avid. A fair number of prominent people in Diobel are in the Kortos Consortium’s pockets, or are prominent members of the guild themselves. If possible, try not to get on the group’s bad side."
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Rex explains to Segray, "There is no formal alliance between the Kortos Consortium and Aspis Consortium, and the two groups are likely working together in a limited capacity—at least for the time being.
"Although the Aspis Consortium seems to have an agreement with part of the Kortos Consortium, neither group is centralized enough for such an arrangement to be very stable. Causing a major disruption in their operation would very likely sever ties between the two groups.
"House Locosta, the faction allied with the Aspis Consortium, claims that its major interest is in Qadiran spices, but the family derives most of its profit from buying and selling Qadiran slaves."
Where did I learn that? Who was I?
As you look at the timeline given in the letters, it seems that you only have a day to implement your activities. Morning & midday is when you might deal with the docks; midday is your time for disrupting the meeting; dusk is your best time to catch Laszo in his lab.
Venture-Captain Valsin gives you some parting words. "Traveling to Diobel will leave you little time to disrupt the Aspis plans. You'll have only about a day and a half, once you arrive." He suggests that you take an hour or two to gather supplies and make any last-minute purchases before setting sail aboard the Sixwing Drake, which departs shortly.
Captain Zendrani and the crew of the sleek Sixwing Drake steer the ship up to the massive barrier of broken war-barges, crumbling walls, and jetties of iron and wood that protect the port of Diobel. “Well, here we are,” says the captain. “I’ll make sure everything is in order with Diobel’s inspectors and charter you a barge to the port. You aren’t carrying anything particularly valuable, so you shouldn’t draw much attention from the inspectors or pilots, so long as you don’t run your mouth. My crew and I will wait here with the ship. You can return here to rest, if you need to, but remember—there isn’t much time!”
It's morning of Oathday.
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Lem stretches his stiff limbs from their overnight journey and takes a lungful of ocean air. "I love the smell of a new city." he says, grinning. "While we're here at the docks shall we see what we can learn about this ship? We can always make for the tavern by noon if things don't look promising."
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Segray bows towards Rex and comes closer, caressing his cheek lightly. "Thank you, trésor. Very interesting!" and she laughs quickly.
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"Dragon's bite, my dear? I think you're mistaken. We're going to the oyster. Anyone has a plan about the place? Do you know anything about it?" the woman asks her favorite informant.
"A little early for the tavern, isn't it? But who am I to judge. Our mark isn't due until noon, but I for one could do with some breakfast."
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Morning & midday is when you might deal with the docks; midday is your time for disrupting the meeting; dusk is your best time to catch Laszo in his lab.
Aiden rolls his eyes. "Right. See, I knew you'd come in handy!" He grins at Lem. "We should go to the docks to check out the shipment coming in and see if we can find a way on board to get the Captain's documents."
A maze of broken ships forms an artificial reef blocking Diobel’s harbor. This treacherous and erratic terrain teems with laborers, barge masters, pilots, and port inspectors, who busily conduct their business ferrying goods to and from the Bristles. Beyond the Trawl, seagoing ships wait their turn to of oad cargo or pick up new goods. One ship stands out among the others—the freshly touched-up paint on its hull, blue with streaks of white lightning along the hull, marks it as the Blue Dragon’s Bite. It sits moored to a dock jutting from the Trawl, with several crates already off-loaded nearby, and many more waiting piled on its deck.
There are many dockworkers nearby, unloading the ship.
Lem recognizes the Port inspector, Indara Allencro, from a description he was able to uncover. He is standing on the deck, just above the gangplank, speaking with a human male, probably the first mate.
"Ah, hellfire. I'd hoped they might be loading that cargo and we could smuggle inside that way. There's no way we can approach like this. Hold on... I'll try my luck with the laborers."
Lem will use the crowd of workers to cover his approach, a halfling scarpering around the docks being hardly an unfamiliar sight. He presses his back against the far side of the cargo, out of sight. Raising his flute to his lips, he blows a few notes of a melody, barely carrying over the bustle of the docks.
Relying on the average tradesman's innate ability to stop for a break, he hails the nearest worker with arms wide. "Old friend! Fancy seeing you in a place like this. By every god and their mother, how many years has it been?"
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There are laborers going up and down the gangplank with boxes. The inspector and the mate glance at them occasionally as they argue, but mostly pay them no mind.
The dock worker's face takes on a blank expression, then, briefly, a confused one, before he sits down on a stack of palettes nearby. "Oi'll be, iffin' it ain't youse. Whatcha need, ol' friend?"
"Well... you know I don't much get to leave the kitchens. Thing is, I ain't been on a ship before. Leastwise one with such a fine coat of paint such as this. I was thinking you might smuggle me aboard so I might look around below deck. For ol' times sake? What do you say?"
As Aiden attempts to blend in with the dock workers, he notices that yes, there are sufficient moorings, anchors, netting, and other handholds that the ship could probably be boarded from the broad side opposite the docks. It would require a bit of a swim, though.
It doesn't take much effort to hear the argument between the Port Inspector and the mate is regarding customs fees. They're certainly not being terribly quiet about it.
Lem's attempt to wrangle one of the dock workers is successful. "'Ere ain't much call for 'alflings aboard 'cept they be slaves, but youse be welcome to come wif me if'n you think youse look da part."
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With the help of a little psychic manipulation, Rex is able to make it on to the ship. The mate looks up, irritable at being interrupted while dealing with the annoying port inspector, and waves him through.
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Huckleberry will watch the scene unfold before him, knowing the party expects to keep a low profile, Huckleberry will attempt to not draw too much attention to himself.
If there is vendors, fish or wares along the wharf he'll walk over to them and try and gather some information about the boat, its cargo and maybe the First Mate.
"Awww S%*$, sons, I reckon dis heres a trawlar o' some sort, got plenty of these boats up in Turtleback. What da ya think she's carryin'?"
Lem will remove his finery, tucking the various coins and charms he wears on his person into his belt, and stashing his vest and silk stash nearby. Taking up a clump of dirt, he brushes it onto his skin. A token effort, but enough to make him look sufficiently downtrodden. "I'm ready. Lead on."