You have been called to the Grand Lodge of Absalom for a briefing on hot Summer's day. 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.
Finally, a huge man wearing creaking leathers 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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Jaïr is a petite woman in simple black robes who highlights her silhouette. She had pale complexion but her charming smile and her simple green make-up make her immediately friendly.
At her side, a short sword and a two wands.
Hello, I'm Jair Whisper, nice to meet you.
Not a question, but where is Skelg's Manor in the Ivy District ? asked Jair
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Drostan is a steady dwarf, he wears studded leather and has a warhammer and a waraxe on his back. On his left arm he has a light steel shield. All his remaining gear, which is not much, he has packed in a backpack. A wayfinder hangs from his neck. He watches the other Pathfinders but does not speak.
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Gradually, a violin's melody enters the office. His cheerful tone makes you want to dance to his rhythm. When music becomes strong enough to not be able to ignore it, a dark-haired man appears in the doorway.
Thin as a rail , the handsome stranger with stormy eyes is wearing a red cotton jacket, a bit warm for this season.
His hands of white chielaxian plays with a violin on his shoulder .He have on him the perfect little adventurer kit : backpack, cold iron dagger , mace silver alchemical, whip and a short bow on his back. A bow shaped earring with a notched arrow hangs on to his left ear.
"-Hi, I'm Yable. What you are willing to pay for my services? Your soul? "
And then he laughs.
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You have told a good question, graceful Jair. I will add that the rich likes to have exotics creatures. Perharps, one of those has escaped and roam the mansion while our unlucky member is sick. We will need to be careful.
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Sagart Laoch is a confusing conundrum of opposites. Her strikingly attractive Human appearance is starkly countered by her crass Dwarven dialect and mannerisms. Her long, silken blond hair is twisted and braided under her chin, roughly resembling the fine beards of the Dwarven ladyfolk. But most curious is the polished scale mail, Dwarven War Hammer and heavy crossbow that her diminutive frame carries with the ease of practiced martial disciple of the God, Kols. Her purpose in this life is to exact punishment on those poor souls who shirk their responsibilities or break sworn oaths and solemn promises.
"Beannachtaí mo chairde! Oi 'ope yer friggin' ready fur dis adventure!"
"Weel, best fetch yer cloaks an' furs, seems as we main be freezin' uir collectife beans! We shoods be shovin' aff tae Skelg's 'en."
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"Sorry, sorry, sorry, I'm late," a gnome says, hustling in. "I was still in court. Divorce case between two Abadaran clerics. You cannot believe how long those deliberations can last."
The gnome is short and slight, even for his people. He drags along a morningstar, its head covered in scuff marks. It takes only a few moments for anyone to see him handling it that he really has close to no idea how to use it. In a charcoal suit with a red necktie, Wrigsolar doesn't quite look like the average Pathfinder. The bright, electric blue mohawk atop his head, and the occasional blue sparks that bounce around his eyes reveal his sorcerous potential.
"Yeah, sorry, I don't speak... whatever that was. Tengu, maybe? Anyways, I'm Wrigsolar D. Fencejumper, esquire, Attorney-at-Law," Wrigley said. After a moment, "My friends call me Wrigley."
"Y'know, t'be quite honest, guy must have some wacked out priorities. Dying in your bed is far from the worst thing that can happen to a man," Wrigsolar muttered under his breath, maybe just loud enough for someone next to him to hear. He then spoke up, "Any chance that he's just being swindled by snake oil men? If so, I'd be glad to represent him in a civil case against anyone who promised him a cure."
"'Course, we'd want to be careful about making sure we don't accidentally open ourselves up to some sort of malpractice case ourself," Wrigley mused. One would get the feeling that he likes the sound of his own voice.
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The longer Sagart speaks, the more acustom your ear gets to translating her extreme dwarven accented common:
"Greetings my friends!" "I hope you're frigging ready for this adventure!"
Followed by,
"Well, best fetch your cloaks and furs, seems as if we will be freezing our collective beans! We should be shoving off to Skelg's then."
Adril Hestram lets out a heavy sigh and goes in length to answer each and everyone's questions to the best of his abilities. His tone is irritated as he open his mouth to answe Jaïr's question. "Try and keep up with local events if you want to get anywhere in the Society. He lives in Greydog Manor, on Parkview Street in the Ivy District."
Adril continues, facing Yâble. "It is possible Skelg has pets, but I doubt they'd be of any harm to other than trespassers. The ulfen are known to domesticate even the fiercest of beasts to be both friends and guards."
He then turns to Wrigsolar, not even trying to cover up his frustration with a fast-talking, constantly blabbering gnome. "If I knew, I would have said. Go ask Skelg."
The venture-captain's gaze tells he probably has some other work to do as he is breathing heavily as if to detain his anger inside him, and tapping the surface of the table with his fingertips.
Eventually the party departs and heads towards the Ivy district, particularly to Parkview Street's Greydog Manor to meet with Skelg the Ripper.
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 is two stories high, and the courtyard is directly in front of the manor, leaving the manor's sides tight against the stone walls surrounding the estate.
The Parkview Street divides the district's park and buildings. The park itself is fenced save for two entrances. Greydog Manor's surroundings thus hold little interest and most people and wagons are merely passing along the road, not remaining to idle dawdle.
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Yâble looks around the estate for some possible danger, person, clue or just something of value he could take.
"Group, before we enter let's look around if we find a gardener who knows something"
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Yâble stops and turn toward Wrigsolar. "Never underestimate the power of the community. Those Ulfens need carpenters, farmers and hunters to live. Elders to teach. This is how they are able to raid and how we are able to defend ourselves. A gardener is part of this equation .
Skelg is a ulfen guard. Those elites warriors are not savages and he is a pathfinder.
But you are right Sag, he is waiting for us. And cooperation is close to a family. Skelg need us. Let's put our furs and enter the building."
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Yâble looks around to see something of interest, but this part of Ivy district seems well-maintained and thus lacks dangers, shifty alleys, and all that sort of stuff. There are no posters set up against the stone wall either.
As Sagart bangs the gate, she hears a few confused grunts from beyond. After a short moment the gate opens slightly, revealing one burly man of ulfen complexion. The man wears a chain shirt and a surcoat bearing the Taldan crest and carries the traditional imperial guard long axe.
The guard looks at you sternly and speaks. "Skelg is ill. He wants no visitors."
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"Fair greetin's be to ya, we've been sent by the one and only Adril Hestram to look on to his good friend Skelg... And I'm sure that you wouldn't want to disappoint Master Hestram or Master Skelg by not lettin' us in..."
Sagart lets her words hang for just a moment, then follows with, "Plus were 'ear ta help cure dear Skelg of what ales 'im!"
"...Master Skelg has decided he would rather die in peace," the guard states blatantly.
The guard seems unaccustomed to calling Skelg as "master". He'd rather wish for the pathfinders to go away.
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"I wonder",Yable thinks,
"If this is the time for my old trick." [
b]"Yes, my friend is right,"[/b] Respond Yâble. "But seen your hesitation at calling Skelg, you must be fairly new to this job right?"
With a smile, the bard takes 18gp out of his purse. "You see, we are pathfinders and your master, an another pathfinder, called for us. I think he will be quitte happy to see us and you for now will have a little bonus for your good will."
Yâble presents the money to the guard. "We have more if you want. Surely, your family has lots of hungrys mouths."
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The guard looks befuddled at Yâble presenting more than a handful of gold coins. The guard backs away to chat what appears to be another guard, and then back to the pathfinders. The guard gladly takes the gold Yâble gives.
"Oh well, sure, maybe master Skelg can have his final visitors," the guard says, rolling his eyes and opening the gate fully.
The courtyard is cool and shady compared to the street outside. Dead leaves are scattered across the flagstones and the granite steps. The manor's door is on the far side of the courtyard, about 40 feet away. Another guard, dressed in similar clothes, stands next to the gate.
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"Master Yâble, hold yer coin... This guard has lost touch with his sensibilities. As a guard he has a certain duty to uphold, like the ability to address his employer with the proper title easily, as well as dawning his uniform correctly. As a disciple of Kols,I have been put on this place to exact punishment on those poor souls who shirk their responsibilities or break sworn oaths, and I feel that you have done both... "
The cleric gets more and more heated as she continues and screams,
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"Now, to be completely fair, Yabs in Cheliax, bribery is strictly illegal. Certain gifts can be given, of course, and in certain circumstances, would be be culturally expected by everyone, and that's all well and good, and certainly not bribery. That would undermine the rule of law," Wrigsolar says, adjusting his tie, "And that's not how we roll in Brastlewark, in any way. I'm just saying, you know, in a negotiation, you don't want to start where you end up. Start with a lowball, you'll save yourself money. Standard advice I give for any client about negotiations, so I'll waive my fee."
The guard is slightly taken aback by Sagart's outburst, and gestures them to go on.
"Alright, alright, sheesh, what a temper," the guard comments, and hands back the bribe. They let the pathfinders in, locking the gate behind them, and escort them inside the manor through the courtyard.
Immediately when they step inside they find the lobby of the manor in disarray; vases tipped off their pedestals, tapestries pulled down to piles of torn fabric, smashed wooden furniture in various locations, chandelier crashed onto the floor, shattered glass strewn across the floor, a decorative marble pillar toppled to the ground. The signs of a previous battle are obvious, and before the group gets to have a say, they hear an ominous click as the guards lock the manor's doors. "You lot just have to stick your nose everywhere," one of the ulfen guards exclaims as both of them draw their axes.
ROUND 1
Yâble
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Green guard
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Sagart, Jaïr, Drostan
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Red guard
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Wrigsolar
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"Ulfens plundering of one of their kind." , Yâble said." That must make you a good reputation. Companions! Try to not kill them! These are the gardeners I spoke of earlier! "
From the corner of the eye, Yâble observes the battlefield. By being in the scope of one of the two men, the small avocado seems in a poor posture but Wrig will act before his enemy.
In the other hand, the green Ulfen, the one that Yâble had offered money, is at a few feet from the bard. The latter may be the Ulfen next target. With a defiantly look, Yâble drops his gold , and draws his violin. He plays a small reel hoping to distract the green Ulfen with this unconventional tactic.
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The guard next to Wrigsolar is clearly taken aback by Yâble's violin music, affecting thoughts and actions alike.
Regardless of his companion's wellbeing, the other guard sees the man with the violin do tricks. "Now you'll stop that infernal noise!" the ulfen man shouts as he gets next to the bard and swings his axe.
Lucky for Yâble he is just able to block the swing with his buckler, deflecting the incoming blow.
ROUND 1
Yâble
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Green guard
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Sagart, Jaïr, Drostan
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Red guard (dazed)
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Wrigsolar
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Sagart unhooks her war hammer from her belt and takes a 5' step south west towards the Red Guard then stands her ground, focusing on her total defense.
You get a +4 dodge bonus to your AC for 1 round. Your AC improves at the start of this action. You can't combine total defense with fighting defensively or with the benefit of the Combat Expertise feat. You can't make attacks of opportunity while using total defense.
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It takes only half a second for Wrigsolar to see that the Ulfen bearing on him was dazed, a spell that Wrigsolar had used quite a bit in his previous adventures. Wrigsolar flings his left hand at the Ulfen raider, letting loose his elemental ray.
if hit
Regardless of whether he hits or not, Wrigsolar scrambles back behind the strange half-dwarf cleric.
"Hey, I'll try to not kill them if they stop trying to kill us," Wrigsolar shouts as he sees Yable block an axe.