The city of Padiskar near the northern tip of the Isle of Jalmeray is not so much a city as a ring of small villages surrounding a massive, howling ruin, from which terrifying screams of whatever the Vudrani Maharaja Khiben-Sald left there in ancient times can still be heard. The new Venture-Captain Vasuman Mihir maintains a small safe house for the Pathfinder Society here, taking over from Padiskar’s longtime Venture-Captain Aamina Shahrazad, who was recently murdered by men loyal to Zamir, a bandit lord and rumored Aspis Consortium agent who operates out of the nearby jungles.
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"Jalmeray, huh?" Never been there. She reads the missive and tucks it into her blouse. "Guess I won't be needing these after all." A slender girl with fiery red hair that seems to sway at the slightest breeze, today Laiashi is dressed in a white lace blouse and pleated skirt. She puts back the tomatoes she was about to buy, pays for the food that's likely to keep until she returns, and heads home. Soon she's out the door again, heading to her next Society mission.
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A scruffy man of older years arrives, his hair unkempt and his tunic stained with food stains. Some of them look like they may have been thrown at him by an angry mob. His shield is covered entirely, front and back, with arcane equations, charts, graphs, poems, vaguely disturbing symbols, and bawdy limericks. They seem to exist just below the paint, and every time you look away they seem to have changed positions.
Eh? Huh? Am I at the right place? I suppose I am. Not that it matters. Have you heard the Bad News about He/She/Them? She/They/It are coming, and we must be ready. We only have 10,000 years!
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A solitary figure trudges the streets of Padiskar. Former companions of the former Paladin of Iomedae would never recognize the young, brash and idealistic man they had once knew.
The events following the battles in the streets of Magrimar shook his faith, severing his tie to The Inheritor.
Shaken, broken, adrift, William left his order and cast about in the world, looking for something to regain.. or replace his connection to Iomedae. Symptomatic of his lost faith, it never occurred to him to seek help from the masters of his order, or even atonement with his Goddess the prideful young man set out to fix it himself.
Failing to make progress on the divine front, he delved into the arcane, seeking ancient and esoteric texts, communing with masters ofnthebarcane and occult arts, even seeking Congress with things that his former Paladin self would not have approved of. The results drove him further from his initial goal of finding his connection with Iomedae, yet it awakened a desire, even obsession, with seeking new knowledge and expanding his power.
Such countless hours pouring over tombs and seeking relics showed on the outside as well. The once burly man turned more lean, yet powerful, his close cropped hair fell out, leaving him completely bald. His once bronzed, youthful face was now sallow, pale, with once bright eyes faded and bagged.
He walks the streets hunched and furtive instead of boldly and proud. Yet the worn greatsword on his hip was no less powerful, the armor on his torso no less sturdy.
Arriving at the meeting point he simply nods to his new companions, settling into a corner, idly fingering an oddly shaped brooch as if it had special meaning.
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he young elf enters into the room, his long hair is tied back in a braid and his eyes take everything and everyone one. His armor is yellow and black and you notice, right above his belly button a symbol, more than a regular tattoo of 3 daggers pointing in, the symbol of the Savored Sting.
He carries a scorpion whip and a longsword at his side and smiles at his new companions. He kisses the hand of the ifrit and bows before the rest of the companions, with a flirty smile towards both the ifrit and the dhamhir Caelhal Lantherian, devotee and beloved of the of the Savored Sting. he says proudly.
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A tall slender man if Taldan descent enters the room.
I hope I'm not too late...darn ship hit some nasty headwinds on my way here...thought I might miss this mission. Patros Therinor of Cassomir...delighted to meet you all. Laishi? Aha...we cross paths again...so nice to see a familiar face. Broken many hearts lately? he says as he greets the rest of the group.
Good mix we have here...excellent!
His gear reflects his profession...a rondelero of Taldor. His wickedly curved blade hangs from his waist, the tassles in Taldor's colours. His armor scarcely makes a sound as he moves.
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Hpmfh! You think you're late. I've wasted four years so far trying to tell the unwashed masses - he does not seem aware that he himself is rather unwashed - about the great danger of They/He/She, coming from beyond the stars to devour everything.
Still, one has to eat. Welcome, welcome, welcome. His message trails off into resigned annoyance.
Can we get started?
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Laiashi's heart skips a beat at first when Patros addresses her by name. He remembers me? Oh, this could be bad. Then, after realizing that the man's recognition is apparently not from a tryst-- or at least that he knows her reputation-- she relaxes. "Probably," she responds with a shrug. "I'm not after hearts."
A shirt of chainmail can be seen under her blouse, and she carries a small adventuring pouch on her right hip. However, she's completely unarmed.
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"Father always says it is best to be prepared, and it appears to me that you are more than you seem. My name is Alucard Tiriac, from the Tiriac house of Ustalav. My father is a very important man, and told me to see the world and go exploring." With a frown, he continues, "I know he is really just trying to get me out of the house, so his mistress can move in. It was probably her idea. I'm not too worried though. Father's trysts don't last for very long, and I'm certain that he will be proud of me when I return home."
Offering a hand to Laishi he bows with a flourish, a Filigreed Darkwood Bow tucked in a quiver on his back.
"I do detest the wilderness, but Father says that it will build character. I am have been tutored in Archery by some of the Finest Teachers that Father could find from Kyonin. As such, I should be able to at least lend a hand if things get..." Alucard's voice trails off as a sneer replaces the previous haughty expression on his face. "Well, let's just hope it won't come to that."
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Perhaps I can help train you in the arts of the bow, Alucard. Being an elf I am quite aware of how to use a bow. Sheathing and aiming and hitting a mark is quite easy for me.
Looking at Patros
I am also adept to use a rapier, though I prefer a whip. I know how to dodge and how to thrust and parry
he says to both with a smile, and a twinkle in his eye,
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William sits back as some of the others reaquaint themselves with each other. Content to simply observe his potential companions as they interact, he remains silent for the time being.
Once I would have been proud to announce myself and my position within the church, it is amazing how quickly a life can change.
Deep down he accepts that the failing was his own, his lack of strength when it was most needed, but on the surface he seethes every time the thought of Venture Captain Sheila Heidmarch and her immorality. For it was her that started his fall from grace.
At first he had thought to abandon the Pathfinders all together and patrol forgotten roadways against banditry, or perhaps throw his life away into the worldwound, but once he unlocked his thirst for esoteric knowledge and forgotten relics he decided to use the Pathfinders as a means to expand his explorations, paying the Silver Crusade nominal allegiance as a nod to his former life.
It had already paid off, his belt and curious brooch carried some ancient psychic powers that gifted him unnatural abilities and he was sure he would find more.
Have I already accepted this path will never lead me back to Iomedae? Who can know, but I feel ... more distant... to her than ever. Nethys has seemed to taken an interest, however.
Venture-Captain Mihir’s briefing was short and serious. “This is a fake scepter of the arclords,” he said, hefting a bejeweled staff in his hands bearing glowing runes across its surface. “You will lead a caravan toward Niswan carrying this false relic and several crates of minor magical items. My porter, a young boy named Waman, will give you a detailed travel itinerary, which you must follow with care. Except that it is almost certain that you will be ambushed before you reach your destination, since young Waman is a spy for the Aspis Consortium and has sold out and murdered a dozen or more of our brethren and associates, including our former venturecaptain—I’m sure of it. The scepter is bait in a trap, and you are the teeth. Do not let on to Waman that you know of his transgressions—we need him to lead us to his master, the bandit lord Zamir. We’ll either make Zamir our man or disrupt his business permanently. I’ll deal with Waman myself once
this affair is resolved.”
Venture-Captain Mihir held up a second item, a plain-looking but easily recognizable wayfinder. “This wayfinder is also a fake, although unlike the scepter, it does have real power. The dial always points to the scepter.” Mihir demonstrated, moving the wayfinder in a circle around the scepter, the needle pointing unerringly at it.
“Waman gave Zamir information that enabled the bandit fool to steal artifacts from dozens of our caravans and even from safe houses such as this one. Zamir has a method of disassembling the artifacts so that he can smuggle them off the island with ease, bound for ports of call in Cheliax. What we do not know is where Zamir is, since he never attacks with his men.”
“I gave Waman the information about your journey, so at some point along the route, Zamir’s bandits will ambush you. Previous experience indicates that his bandits will not kill if they don’t have to. Let them steal the scepter. You must put up a small struggle, maybe even kill or injure several of his men, but most importantly you must let them escape and they must escape with the scepter.
“Give them a few hours after the ambush to escape and then use the wayfinder to track Zamir to his hideout. Zamir is an arrogant man whose loyalties lie with whoever can make him famous to the people of Jalmeray. Right now he believes the Aspis Consortium is the answer. You will either convince him that the Society is the answer—as he could be a very powerful ally in the region—or you’ll end his operations for good. How you handle it, I leave to you. Good luck on your journey and may the gods guide your hand.”
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So, our mission is to fail at our mission., Herald says with a bemused chuckle.
He glances to the ceiling.
Ahh, the gods, they do have their amusement, don't they?
He begins packing up his meager belongings.
I'm ready. At least I'll have some time and a captive audience, so I can share the Bad News about It/They/He. Have I told you how we must stop They/She? We must master the power of a new kind of magic, "Tekk'Gnall Ajeee", if we are to ever have any hope of preserving our universe. I have seen visions of New Clear Bombs and Foe-Tonn Torr-Pee-Dues which may aid us, but we must begin now! We may already be too late, don't you see? We must...
He continues on for quite some time, until stopped or no one is listening any more.
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William grunts at the task.
Again the Pathfinders accomplish their goals through subterfuge and deceit, do they do nothing in a straightforward manner?
Truthfully, now, he did not care. As long as his tasks took him to new places and paid well, he would do what they asked.
"Though I mislike letting anyone who attacks me live, the plan is sound, if over complicated. Would it not be easier to take several alive and force them to tell us where this bandit lives?"
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Laiashi smiles. I think I understand why I was brought along for this. "Oh, I excel at these types of missions. Let me handle the subterfuge, gentlemen. I have an idea how we can play this." She takes the scepter and twirls it in her hand, familiarizing herself with the weight and feel of it. "Tell us more about this Zamir guy. What do you know about him?"
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Stroking his chin with his fingers, Alucard adds to the discussion.
"So the objective is to let them escape with the Scepter? How intriguing. Father says that a great diplomat can convince the enemy to slit their own throat while handing over the keys to their kingdom. He has trained me well to excel in these arts so that I may take over his estate when he dies." With an eye roll, he continues, "Father always thinks that is so funny. I suppose after a few hundred years of unlife, it truly is the little things."
"Perhaps I can be the master of this Caravan, as is fitting of one of my station. Many nobles are trained in Archery, why should I be any different?"
"Also, what is the weather like on the trail? What do the local nobles wear that is Fashionable and current?"
"Though I mislike letting anyone who attacks me live, the plan is sound, if over complicated. Would it not be easier to take several alive and force them to tell us where this bandit lives?"
“The villagers are sure that he’s absorbed several smaller jungle-bandit groups and we’ve heard rumors that the long-deposed and villainous monks of the Tiger’s Eye are working for him.” He pauses only for a short moment. “We don’t know exactly how many men he has, nor which ones know which parts the operation. The scepter may pass through any number of these groups, while the individual may only know who the next contact is."
"Tell us more about this Zamir guy. What do you know about him?"
“He’s a rebel and a bandit and the people of Padiskar know him from his youth as a fool who desires fame above all else. This is why I think his loyalty to the Aspis Consortium is thin at best and there’s a chance he can be brought to our side rather than simply slain.”
"Also, what is the weather like on the trail? What do the local nobles wear that is Fashionable and current?"
"There are a storms in the highlands that don't reach the lower elevations. The roads will be wet, but you should be dry." Vasuman Mihir, himself a member of the working caste, shrugs. "Noble's fashion? Blue I think. Scarves and silks and elephants and gold lives lotuses I guess."
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William ignores much of the byplay between the cleric and the ... half vampire? other than taking mental notes for future study.
The crazy prophet guy seemed pretty interesting as well, he made a note to see if the man could be talked to, or if he was too far gone for intellectual discourse.
Once the VC responds to the groups questions he simply listens and nods with a final, "Makes sense." at the end.
Turning to the group he says, "Let the scepter get stolen, track it, convince the bandit to join us or else. Simple enough. Hopefully we have the firepower to pull this off."
"Well then, go make any purchases you want. Then meet Waman and the caravan. You will be on the road shortly," the Venture Captain wishes you luck.
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The Herald, not needing to purchase anything at the moment, pulls up a crate to stand on near the caravan departure point and begins to preach.
Listen, sheeple! We are in mortal danger from They/She/He, a monstrosity from beyond the stars which has become aware of us (for which I am profoundly regretful) and is, even now, on His/Their way to devour all. You! You, sir. Do you value your life? Your family? Your world? Then listen! She/It/They are coming! We must learn the magic known as "Tekk'Gnall Ajeee" if we are to have any hope of defeating It/They. Have you heard of this magic? How about you, sir? No? Ask your friends! Ask your cleric if Tekk'Gnall Ajeee is right for you. We only have 10,000 years...
The usual crowd of bemused onlookers gathers, with the usual children being sent to fetch rotten fruit for their parents to throw. It happens in every town. Herald is used to it. It is the price he must pay in order to save the universe.
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William watches The Herald preach with no small interest. Not that he believed, or even could understand, his sermon, but more of an intellectual exercise.
I wonder what broke this man's mind so? Whatever it is I will avoid it
Thinks the young man, oblivious to the fact that the secrets he was so obsessed with delving into could lead to this very madness, or worse. Youth and arrogance made him sure in the fact that whatever circumstances broke this Herald couldn't happen to him.
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Laiashi stares at her soapboxing companion. Battier than a wetland cave.
Whoever heard of a Tekk'Gnall something anyway? "So here's what I was thinking," she says to the others when they leave the venture-captain's office. "I'll hold onto the scepter, and be the--" (she changes her demeanor appropriately) "harmless assistant just trying to get this important artifact from one place to another! You're my bodyguards. When they attack, you all... you know, do your thing. I'll make sure one of them gets the scepter."
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...and thus... (Herald dodges an apple) ...we see that even if the Corbomite Bomb fails to work, we still have oof!... (Herald fails to dodge a tomato) ...our Cold Fusion Lay Sirs, which presumably are a heroic band of... (Herald dodges a cantaloupe) ...knights who, I'm not clear on the details, but may lay down together and fuse into a giant... (Herald dodges two oranges and a potato - he's actually pretty good at this) ...You must understand! The visions are not clear!...
A cart colorfully labeled 'Shamimshamam's Fine Gear' and 'finest pitchforks and torches in Jalmeray' arrives behind an oxen painted in red and gold.
Fortunately, Mihir has given the party directions to the safe house where you meet with Waman.
"Good good, offers the scribe after introductions are made. "We can begin within the hour. He gives the party a map and instructions regarding how to guide the caravan to Niswan.
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This isn't the most direct route, Laiashi notices when she sees the map. I bet this is how he's been doing it; taking people the long way so his buddies can ambush the caravans. Solid plan, really, if no one notices the route difference. "Great!" she tells him with a smile. "When do we leave?"
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Are those Aspis agents? Surely not, being out in the open like this. Laiashi hops out of the caravan when they stop at the campsite, clutching the scepter like a beloved doll. "Oh, there's people," she says loudly, feigning surprise. "Um, hello!" she calls out to them.
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Beginning to sweat a bit before leaving town, Alucard sighs audibly. "Well, being out in this heat every day will not do. I will pull a few strings, and Father will ensure that I have the protections that I need to travel in comfort."
On the second day, Alucard glares from the caravan. "Laiashi, what are those folks up to? Are we finally resting for the night?"
"Welcome travelers. I am Phalgun. We travel to Padiskar with cloth and carpets to sell," one man answers. "Please, will you share our campfire with us?"
They seem cautious, but polite and friendly.