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A gnome with a glint in his eyes and a smile on his lips walks in... he's dressed in skin tight pants and a tight-fitting sleeveless jacket. A diaphanous scarf is tied around his mid-section, and he wears a single chain in lieu of a belt. His clothing is all brightly colored.
Hanging from the chain is a small flail and a light crossbow made of very colorful hardwoods is slung on his back. He wears two quivers, filled with bolts for the crossbow.
He looks quite jovial and introduces himself to anyone present. "Hi, I'm Gneau... Gneau Effingway, of the Varisian Effingways."
Gneau spends at least a few moments with his eyes lingering appreciatively on the ladies present.
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Seidr is arrestingly asymmetrical. Her face shows her years, but her slender build and slight stature would almost make her look like a young maiden otherwise.
The tilt of her eyes and the jet black of her hair show her Minkaian heritage, but her Ulfen blood can be still be seen in her hair's waves and gentle curls and the vividness of her non-matching eyes.
Today she wears a mail byrnie that seems to swallow her up in its bulk, but goes without weapons aside from a kite shield and a particularly brutal gauntlet.
She introduces herself to Gneau and Kyun with a roll of her eyes for the gnome's leer, and a nod and a slightly quizzical look on her face for Kyun's question, and asks, Excuse me Kyun, but are you from Kalsgard?
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"Confirmation? Is that some kind of Pathfinder ritual? If it is, I must have missed mine... dang, that's disappointing.. probably too late to do it now. Have you done it? What's it like?" He turns to Seidr and asks her as well... "Your eyes are beautiful... I love that they are bicolored, like my cat's! Have you been confirmed?"
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I have! My Confirmation was a difficult ordeal; our mentor barely survived when creatures attacked us in the middle of exploring a lost holy site, but eventually we escaped with knowledge that will hopefully help others in the future.
If you didn't undergo a confirmation, were you commissioned in the field?
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"Not exactly... I joined the Pathfinders as a raw recruit... and got no initial assignments, so I struck out on my own, helped some other Pathfinders with no real guidance explore the first level of a big green tower." He shrugs. "It took a long time, but it wasn't particularly lucrative... maybe the kobolds living in it raided most everything of value before we got there... We survived, but I was hoping for something more... important to do, you know?"
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A tall nagaji with blue markings over her eyes introduces herself. She speaks Common well, though with a slight hiss.
"Hello. I am sssso pleased to meet you all. My name is Suna Shima, and I am here on behalf of Nagajor. I have recently completed my Confirmation, though I am ashamed to ssssay that I did not represent Nagajor well. It turns out that it is rather difficult to swim in armor. I am determined to serve Nalinivati well this time."
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Pasha listens from nearby, more interested in these other agents than introducing herself. From the sounds of it, some of them were far more advanced than she - her own experience was limited only to her study of alchemy. Seeing as she hadn't gotten very far before losing her home, she wasn't too sure how much good she'd do here. Still, if they received a job, she'd certainly take it - she needed the gold.
After a handful of minutes, she finally makes her presence more obvious by joining the conversation. "I have not taken on this Confirmation either," she admits. "But I will be sure to ask about it lest it be something I was supposed to experience." She shrugs, then laughs. "Well, I'm sure they'll let me know." The oread eyes the others before going still again.
"I am Pasha Oret, novice alchemist and creator of questionable substances." The oread added a slight bow - a kind of flourish. "Nice to meet you all. Are you all lookin' for work, too? I was hoping to see if there was a call for agents, but I wasn't sure if there'd be something up for just one person..."
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Coming to the meeting place, a lone beggar garbed in baggy robes approaches. The only figure visible in the constant drizzle, the beggar sticks out his hands for currency. “Have you any coin to spare, fine folk?”
The question hangs in the air for only a scant moment before the figure pulls back his hood to reveal the wizened face of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng. He gives a crooked smile, soaked head to toe from his unprotected time in the rain. His clothes smell faintly of cabbage.
“Sorry about that” he says with a wink. “I always like to play a little joke on agents when I stumble across them during my jaunts into town. Now, why did I summon you fine folk here again…?” Dreng shakes his head from side to side, as though trying to knock water out of his ears, despite the constant downpour.
“Ah yes, the Wounded Wisp! I’m undercover now and can’t stray far from the site I’m watching, but I need someone to retrieve a package for me from that fine establishment. It’s among Absalom’s most storied taverns, you see, and one that holds a special place of privilege in the Society’s lore as the place where the organization began. Well, I could drone on and on about it, but standing out in the rain is doing none of us any favors.” As if anticipating agreement, the bedraggled venture captain produces a small slip of folded paper from one of his many stitched pockets. Dreng quickly shows a glimpse of the page’s contents: a map detailing the location of the Wounded Wisp bar.
“The bartender is a woman by the name of Heryn Gale, a fine lady who came to own the Wisp after the passing of her father from—oh, bah, it’s really getting too cold for me to give a proper history lesson! If you could just go to the Wisp, and tell Heryn you’re there to pick up my parcel, it would be most appreciated. I’ll be around here for several more hours at least.”
Dreng waits a moment to see if you have any questions before pulling down his hood and darting back under cover.
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Dreng first responds to Kyun: "Oh, no, no, I'm not expecting any trouble, though you don't get to be as old as I am in the Society without being ready for it at all times."
Turning to Seidr, a slightly sheepish grin forming on his face: “Before you judge, despite my current attire, I’m still a man of taste. The parcel is actually a special vintage of wine from the cellar of the Wounded Wisp. I’ve been sampling their finer wines in descending order of bottling. I dare not disappear from my current role in this district, but I also would appreciate some comfort items. After all, I doubt anyone would judge a supposed beggar sipping from a bottle of wine.“
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Kyun lets out a sigh of relief.
"I didn't exactly leave Kalsgaard under pleasant circumstances, but is indeed nice to meet others from the Jade Quarter so far from home."
He rolls his eyes at Dreng's tall tale, recognizing the Venture-Captain's inner grifter from miles away.
"We'd better going then."
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Pasha shrugs. Work is work after all. With the little glimpse of map they'd received, she assumed they'd be able to make their way to the... establishment.
"Enough - let us get the job done that we can move onto others." She picked a direction - the one she thought correct given what they'd seen of the map - and started off, taking care to look for signs or other indicators of the place. If there are none in view, she might ask the kind people on the streets - if there are any, in this overbearing rain. Just as well I'm of stone and not fire, she thinks to herself, amused.
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Built from dark, discolored wood, the exterior of the Wounded Wisp is the image of an iconic dive bar. Stained and barred windows obscure direct vision into the establishment, though ruddy yellow light bleeds from a window in the front hall. The only distinguishing feature on the Wisp’s exterior is a thick wooden sign hanging from above the bar’s entrance. A brass ring fitted onto the sign anchors a lantern that hangs there during the evening hours.
The walls of the long wooden hallway that serves as entrance to The Wisp are covered in numerous decorations and trophies left by successful Pathfinders who’ve donated minor paraphernalia to the bar. You make your way past the coat check (stowing whatever you wish with the teenage employee), and your senses are assailed by the smells of smoke and spilled ale as you make your way into the tavern proper.
Walls of dark-stained wood make up the sides of the Wounded Wisp, while well-used wooden tables are spread throughout the space. A raised area in the back of the establishment houses several additional tables and eating areas for groups seeking more than just a good drink. An austere bar supported by kegs instead of wooden panels commands the northern end of the room. A stained-glass cabinet stands behind the bar, its dark panes cracked in several spots, yet not so opaque as to conceal the several dozen types of hard liquor within.
A handful of patrons are scattered about the place, and a woman matching Heryn Gale works behind the bar, serving those at the stools directly while preparing drinks for the wait staff who attend to those at tables. ”Hello there! What can I getcha?” she asks as you walk in.
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Seeing that the strange human seemed to have things in order, Pasha stood towards the back, observing the handful of people that were scattered about the place and looking at the objects scattered all around the place. Considering the building was full of Pathfinder paraphernalia, she thought it fairly safe to assume they were Pathfinder agents or those positively affiliated with their like.
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”Ah yes, Drandle that old scoundrel. You must be the latest bunch of Pathfinders he’s put to ‘good’ use. Well, I can take you down to the basement to get it, but I’m afraid it will have to wait a few minutes until my relief gets here. Until then, how ‘bout a drink on the house? Most of the folks in here are connected to the Society in some way or another. I’m sure you can find someone to chat with while you wait.”
Looking around the room, you see the following people:
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Not one to turn down freely given alcohol, Pasha accepts a mug of ale and, if only to be amenable, joins the heterochromatic female at the table with half-orcs, listening to their jokes. Some cause her to chuckle despite herself. If more people were like this, she supposes she'd spend more time with 'em.
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She completes the tale she was telling to the group seated around her, and as some of them get up to seek further refreshment she turns and addresses you again: ”Tell me, have you completed your report to the lodge yet? I’d be glad to help you if you’d like. It’s so interesting to put your experiences into words! Also, a word to the wise: they tend to get a little grumpy if you wait too long. Anyway, what brings you to The Wounded Wisp? I love this place, so full of history! Isn’t it inspiring?”
”Hey there, pull up a seat! I’m Shrade."
"And I'm Garl. Ya’ll new Pathfinders? Been on any interesting missions yet?"
"All they ever send us to do is hit things with our axes."
"Even better, got any good jokes?”
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Gneau doesn't wait for the ones she apparently already knows to answer, and chimes in with, "We're here to collect something belonging to one of the higher ups from the Lodge... Not exactly an interesting task, but it's better than twiddling around... i mean twiddling our fingers... waiting for something better to come along... we are just beginners at all this explore, cooperate and report business."
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Responding to Suna’s question, Janira smiles and looks around. ”Oh, there’s all sorts of interesting folks that come in here! Those two over there, “she says, nodding at the half-orcs, ”are the Boartusk twins. The come across as meatheads, and they surely are good in a fight from what I’ve heard, but I suspect there’s more than meets the eye.”
Pointing to the man at the bar, she says ”That’s Yargos Gill. He’s not actually a Pathfinder, but he probably knows more about the Society than most agents you’ll meet. He’s an expert in the military history of the region. I talk to him every chance I get; he always teaches me something interesting!”
Looking over to the merchant sitting alone at the table, ”Over there is Aram bin Kaleel. I’ve only talked to him once or twice, but he’s a fascinating guy. Besides being a Pathfinder agent, he owns a shop in the coins district. He has lots of great advice, even if he is a little nostalgic for the past. They’re all friendly."
"Anyway, don’t get too down about your mission. You never know when you’ll have a chance to learn something new, and let me know if you need any help!”
Raucous laughter accompanies the end of Seidr’s joke.
”Good one!”
”Yeah, cheers to that!” Shrade says, lifting her tankard.
Turning to Pasha, Garl sys ”We’ve been with the Society for a few years now, but they only send us out once in awhile. We’re pretty good at causing a ruckus, and sometimes that’s what the Society needs, but usually they want a little more subtlety than they think we can deliver.”
“Sometimes I wish they’d let us do more than hit things, but we sure do have fun doing it, so it’s not so bad.”
“Anyway, let us know if you have anything interesting goin’ on. This place is great... “
“Especially the Pathfinder discount!” interrupts Shrade
“...but we’re always on the lookout for something fun to do.”
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Seeing as the human seems more amenable to talking, Pasha lets her be, simply observing. She can't help but crack a smile at the half-orcs' antics and jokes, though - they might not be the stealthiest of folk, but they certainly seemed to have a healthy sense of humor.
At Seidr's question about what the orcs wanted to do, Pasha became curious. How interesting that a human would ask such a question. Perhaps they were more compassionate than her experiences had led her to believe. This one, at least.
"I am sure the Society attempts to assign jobs appropriate to our strengths," Pasha said. Her mind immediately reminded her of the job she was on right then and her mouth quirked. "Of course, some are more appropriate to our strengths than others."
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“You know, see the world, explore other cultures.”
“Sample other drinks!”
“That kinda stuff.”
“Well, something you don’t know, eh? That presents a difficulty, you see, because I just met you, and thus don’t know what you know. However, I shall endeavor to rise to the challenge presented. Try this on for size: Did you know that Taldane forces under the command of General Orphyrea Amandar were attempting to expand their empire as recently as 4608, more than five hundred years after Chelaxian independence and the decline of their power?"
"In fact,” he says, turning to Suna, “this may be of particular interest to you, given from whence you hail. That 'Last Army of Expansion', as it’s known to historians, was the origin of the nation of Amanandar, in Tian Xia.”
“Speaking of bold, if foolhardy, steps, have you heard about the new aspirant who’s making his attempt later today?”
"In a broad sense, being a Pathfinder requires you to be ready for anything, which means possessing both knowledge and materials to cover any situation. For instance, do you know how best to respond if attacked by a swarm of spiders?”
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She didn't know this Captain Valsin by face, but she'd heard of him distantly - wasn't he in charge of all the day to day business? Pasha couldn't be sure either way. Still, it seemed as though this girl had a fair few ideas.
"And once you go and come back, you'll have to tell us about your travels. Perhaps you'll even learn some more jokes." Pasha suggested. She wasn't sure what there was for her to contribute to this conversation, but she felt like she ought to say something all the same. She drank her ale, not wanting to just awkwardly sit there.
"Are you very, ah..." she pauses to think of the word. "Stir crazy?"