A Vudrani Summer has descended on the southern shore of Kortos Island, the sparkling jewel of the Inner Sea.
Life in Absalom, the island's largest settlement is as relaxed and carefree as a metropolis the size of the City at the Centre of the World ever gets. Pleasure craft and bathers share the clear waters of the bay with fisherfolk and Gillmen Wave Riders, the grim marine watchmen of Absalom's front door.
Holiday-makers scour the many stalls lining the twisted alleys of the Foreign Quarter and the Coins for bargains, or day trip to the quaint smuggler's haven of Diobel, a short boat trip across the harbour to the west. Young and not-so-young lovers walk the Dockway arm-in-arm to watch the sunset, before retiring for a late meal in one of the many candlelit restaurants in Westgate, the Ascendant Court or the Ivy District.
The holiday spirit even seems to have affected Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin, the Decemvirate's taciturn chamberlain.
"There's nothing of pressing concern and I suppose an agent of your experience can be trusted with a few days of Liberty. DON'T make me regret this decision." For some reason he gives Cleaver a pointed look.
So it comes as something of a surprise when a courier wearing the green and gold livery of the Grand Lodge faction delivers a missive to wherever you are passing the time.
Guys!
I've organised Drinkies at the Frothing Alembic in the Foreign Quarter at sunset. Chance to rub shoulders with one of the new VCs who may have a job for you.
You'll likely recognise the Maitre'D. Ask for a private room.
Ciao!
Luisila x
PS: Dress is optional!
Greetings Pathfinder,
My principal, one of the newest VCs of the Society has been discussing your suitability for an important task with your Faction Head.
Please report to the Frothing Alembic in the Foreign Quarter at sunset to meet with him. Ask the half-elf Maitre'D for a private room. Refreshments will be provided.
Explore, Report, Cooperate!
Luisila C Mountjoy, Field Agent
During his wanderings, Aakif comes across a short, plain-faced girl wearing high quality leather armor. Her complexion is somewhat pale, highlighting the deep scratches in her hands and face. To Aakif's practised eye, the wounds appear to be healing well.
She wears a wayfinder on her belt and has an enormous blade strapped to her back.
"Buena Serra, Imam. Do you know the way to the Saucy Wench? I'm meeting friends for dinner there soon. Any idea what kinda sauce is the house specialty?"
Before moving away, the girl whispers "Rejoice! The north-west passage to Varisia has been opened!"
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"Nice, an invitation for drinks....I'm kind of wondering how drunk she was when she wrote this though....or maybe she just has some odd fantasy about seeing grown men in a dress...unless she meant her own dress......"
Brachus makes his way to the Frothing Alembic in the Foreign Quarter at bit before sunset and looks around for the Maitre'D
While waiting for the negligent Front-of-House Greeter, Brachus notices he is being watched by the nearest bar attendant.
The barman, a brute of a man whose forehead juts out as far as his nose, casually tosses a tequila bottle into the air with his right hand, before catching it deftly with his left. Upon noticing the cleric's holy symbol, the Man Mountain pours the bottle's contents into two pairs of shot glasses held in his third and fourth hands, and places them on the bar before Brachus along with four ale chasers and a *grunt*
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Upon receiving the look from the V.C., Varg simply shrugs his shoulders and returns a half smile. He is handed the message, and he laughs heartily out loud. Passers-by think he may be a bit off, but give a wide berth to the Ulfen who apparently finds humor within his own head.
Nevertheless, Varg slicks back his wild hair and ties it in a ponytail with a leather strap. This is the best he can do to make himself more presentable for his friend Lu.
He enters the Frothing Alembic, ducking as he walks through the door jam, straightens and walks purposefully toward Luisila.
Hey, lady, I hear ya have a private room for me. Is it just me an you, or will others be joining us?
He smiles broadly, then yells to a passing barmaid.
Hey sweets - bring me an ale, eh? I'm dyin' of thirst!
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"Thank-you for the directions, Imam." The young woman *bobs* to Aakif and smiles. "I'll only be about twenty minutes late now."
"You see my Aunt Alix always told me it's good manners to be ten minutes late. But seeing I'll be twice as late, everyone will think I've got VERY good manners."
She waves off the offer of healing good naturedly. "Tis but a scratch, Imam! My sister is a Theologian of Sarenrae and bathed the wounds in holy water as soon as they happened. She says I may suffer a little scarring on my neck and hands, but those on my face will fade with time."
"May the Dawnflower light your Path, Imam! Ciao!"
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As Varg closes in on Luisila he sees she is dressed in a more formal version of the Alembic's serving staff's uniform.
Before you stands a tall female half-elf of an indeterminate age. Her strawberry blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail and her green eyes shine with mischief. She wears a tight black skirt that reaches to mid-thigh, dark hose and flat leather shoes. Her shirt is of starched white linen with the logo of the house, a spherical flask over a Bunsen burner dripping frothy liquid into a crystal tumbler, embroidered over her left breast.
"Cleaver, careful! You'll blow my cover!"
She greets the Ulfen giant with a hug and kiss. "Huscarl Stollufsen! Now who are you trying to impress? Why don't you have a drink at the bar until the others arrive? Brachus is around here somewhere. I'll bring you an ale myself."
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Fendahl receives the message and makes for the Alembic. Unsure what to expect, he bids Kirrah to stay hidden and out of trouble.
The half-elf shows a hint of wild in his appearance, especially his silvery hair and sideburns. His armor has bits of horn and covered with markings from the far East.
Fendahl enters the hall, but does not recognize any of the patrons.
He bows formally to the hostess.
"Hrrmm, I have been summoned for a Society meeting. Is there a private room available?"
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"Master Silvermane I presume?"
Fendahl is met at the front reception stand by a tall auburn-haired woman with slightly pointed ears. She carries a wooden tray in her hand, which bears a single three-pint stein filled to the brim with frothy dark ale.
"Your party is not all here yet. Can I offer you a complimentary drink at the bar while you wait? Please follow me."
The Alembic is busy this evening. Its darkwood panelled interior with matching long tables and benches promote a relaxed convivial atmosphere. The laughter and loud conversation from the many patrons only adds to the ambience. They call for ale, wine, focaccia, grilled chicken and wild boar from the harassed serving girls, along with the house specialty, thick rare-cooked T-bone steaks called 'bistecka'
On the way to leading Fendahl to the bar, a cavalry knight bearing the Order of the Cockatrice cannot resist goosing Luisila's swaying behind. The man finds a pot of scalding tea dumped into his unprotected lap, as the priestess calls over her shoulder.
"Don't touch what you can't afford, My Lord." She adds to the man's companion, a grinning dwarven crossbowman. "I'll bring you a fresh pot, Skipper. Tea. Paracount Grey. Hot, right?"
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"Why would your wounds require treatment with holy water? Are you sure you're ok?"
"I'm fine, thank-you Imam." The young woman looks to the fading light in the west as if she's trying to remember something.
"I'm pretty sure I received these wounds in the Snake Pit my sister took me to. Though honestly, I can't recall if it was the whips or chains that did it."
She suddenly *snaps* her fingers. "Oh! I know who could tell you. That fairy Drag Queen! The one that brought the weed!"
"Hrrm, yes, Silvermane. Saki if you have it. Warm preferred." Fendahl will accept the drink and continue to scan for familiar faces in the bar.
Despite his boorish appearance, the Iron Giant seems surprisingly knowledgeable about Minkaien fermented beverages, and you suspect about many other things as well.
It's not a question.
As the Lionless Shaman scans the Alembic, he notices three females: a bored Mwangi monk, a platinum-haired elf in burgundy leathers with a double row of throwing knives lining her back and a tall woman with a martial posture, short-cropped red hair and a badly scarred face, being entertained by a flamboyant blond-haired elf with a curved blade by his side.
The swashbuckler smiles broadly on spying Fendahl and bows to him with a flourish.
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"Why would your wounds require treatment with holy water? Are you sure you're ok?""I'm pretty sure I received these wounds in the Snake Pit my sister took me to. Though honestly, I can't recall if it was the whips or chains that did it."
She suddenly *snaps* her fingers. "Oh! I know who could tell you. That fairy Drag Queen! The one that brought the weed!"
"Wait... Now I'm more confused. Your sister took you to a snake pit? Why? And I can get more information from a drag queen who buys weed? That's horrible! Why would I want to find a person like that? Why would they have more information about this?"
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Filios smiles his devilish grin, and he also bows with a flourish.
Ahhhh, my good friend Fendahl! Very good to see you. I have been well. You know, both chasing and protecting the damsels in distress. What brings you? Are you looking for work, or hear to receive orders? Myself, I am in between missions.
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"Your sister took you to a snake pit? Why?"
The girl crosses her arms and pouts a little, speaking quite defensively. "Well she's a cleric of the Dawnflower and the formal part of the tour was over. Besides, everyone needs to be somewhere. Who knows why gnomes do what they do?"
"I can get more information from a drag queen who buys weed?"
"No, no. She doesn't BUY weed." The swordswoman shakes her head vigorously. "Uh, uh. She brings it with her, straight from the source!"
"Why would I want to find a person like that?"
"How should I know?" The girl looks at Aakif like he's crazy. "You're lonely? Ready to settle down and start a family? You've read 'Fifty Shades of Slate' and thought you'd try dating a Domina? Shelyn teaches that 'For everyone, there's someone.'"
"Why would they have more information about this?"
The lady in leather armor looks confused. "Information about what ..? What was the question again?"
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Fendahl watches the verbal exchange with mild interest.
He spots the pig lapping ale spills.
"Hrmm. " then considers quietly to himself.
How did that 'thing' wander into an establishment serving food and drink? There ought to be a law.
I fear the Alembic may suffer great disservice to the honor and reputation.
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"Clearly we are misunderstanding each other here."
The girl keeps her arms crossed with a sulky look on her face. "Hmph. Clearly ONE of us is doing some misunderstanding, Sir."
She stands firm and appears to be thinking ... her bottom jaw working up and down like a cow chewing its cud.
Outa all the people in the Foreign Quarter, why would this priest care if I'm all right? Ohhhhhhh ... Maybe? Nah! But... What if ... he likes me?
Whoa! And this dude's into weed, snake pits, Dominas and has read that excit... disgusting '50 Shades' book! I'm in WAAAY over my head - I need to find, Lore!
For some reason, the girl holds up both of her empty hands to Aakif and begins backing away slowly. "Well, it was very nice talking to you, Imam. I'm fine now. Thank-you for the parable. 'Buy low, Sell high' I'll remember that ... But I think I can hear my sister calling me ..."
The half-elven Druid reminds the tipsy pig of someone. He lurches to his trotters and wobbles over to Fendahl's feet, where he sits back on his hind legs, raises those at his front and let's out a LOUD ...
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A halfling of slightly below average stature for his race sits in this meeting. His hair is a light brown, and his eyes are blue. He wears blue breeches, as well as an open blue vest with gold trimming and a multicoloured butterfly embroidered on the back. Sheathed overtop it in a partial scabbard is a shortsword with part of the sheathe missing, as if to display the three notches in the blade. He carries a backpack that looks like it was built for an individual one-and-a-half-times bigger than him, as well as newer-looking burlap bag, and is accompanied by a man in a white and red robe.
"... And that's how I locked myself in the basement of the Blakros museum for an entire year. THAT'S why I haven't been back to the shops." Clearly unhappy with something, the man slips away from the conversation and bar. Weiman takes a seat at a table, unpacking a very dry ration.
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"Don't mind our porcine friend, Master Silvermane." With a tight smile, Luisila attempts to shoo the swinish swindler out of sight behind the bar.
"Such simple creatures can't help their own nature."
"THAT'S why I haven't been back to the shops."
Intrigued by the melancholy halfling's excess liquidity problem, Luisila ambles up behind the archaeologist convinced it is her Calistrian duty to help unburden him of his problem.
"Why, man? Why so blue?" The undercover cleric attempts to break the ice with a gentle tug on the butterfly sewn to the man's blue outfit.
"Luisila at your service! Don't mind me - just checking your fly's not undone."
Hmm, three notches ... Trainable ...
"Anyway, if you need any financial planning advice, you and/or your handsome friend." Luisila gestures at Weiman's companion in red and white. "Can always join me in a private room."
"When you're ready, just Call Lu an'-Walk on over."
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Weiman spins around, his associate having left, drops his concerned act, returns to his typical carefree attitude, and utilizes the Ghost Sound cantrip for its greatest intended purpose. "Whhooooah! If acting all sulky summons financial advisors with growth rates like yours, then I've clearly been doing it wrong! Let me assure you, you've got my interest!"
He laughs and falls out of his chair, overly amused at his own puncraft. After calming down after a good seven seconds of floor-laughter, he returns to his seat. "Oh, by the stars, its been far too long." He looks to the Cleric, "Rats just don't appreciate humor. I mean, the one that was possessed by a ghost of some ancient wizard or something was a little amicable to discussion, but the 'trying to nibble my eyes out while I slept as an offering' was too irritating."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Fendahl's ears twitch at the sound of a familiar voice.
He spots Weiman engaged in financial planning across the room.
The lion shaman strides over to check on his friend.
"Hrrmm, Master Callbazzern-Walk. How have you been? I have not seen you since that mission
for Venture-Captain Brackett at the Cathedral of Aroden in Almas.
If I recall, we retrieved the Fleshforge Manuscript or something along that vein. You are well?"
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Weiman dreams in his own blue butterfly bed, three notches carved in the bedhead... clutching the jar of vintage honey he Pathfindered from the Tetrahedron of the Blue Pharaoh of Frivolity a decade ago near the Gozarin Necropolis in northern Osirion.
As he dreams, he hears a buzzing sound approach ... Closer ... and closer! Until the sound, like an annoying mosquito, is directly in his ear. As he awakes to swat the pest, Golarion's moon shining through his bedroom window reveals the mosquito is actually a wasp ... and that it has all ready moved from his ear to the jar of honey, where it nibbles at the wax seal ...
"Rats just don't appreciate humor ... 'trying to nibble my eyes out while I slept as an offering' was too irritating."
"Oh, sweetie! Don't I know it!" Luisila *sighs* and shakes her head.
"The really cunning ones only have one-track minds, though you can avoid 'night time interference' by simply NOT staying the whole night - UNLESS there's a huge pay-off for doing so."
She nods sagely at her own advice. "Works for dungeon crawls as well."
The "overworked" Maitre'D moves to greet the newly arrived agent of the Sun at the front of house. She *waggles* a finger at Fendahl in jest as she passes him.
"Threv Wept! Isn't that case still classified?" She adds with a smile. "Spoilers, Master Silvermane."
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Luisila greets Aakif with an owlbear hug. After releasing him she says, "You OK, Aakif? Trying day?"
The priestess pats his arm. "Nevermind. I can organise a tequila sunrise to be sent to the Private Room if you like."
She consults a sheet of paper at the Maitre'D's station, shakes her head and mutters under her breath. "He's consistent at least :) Well, the first five have arrived. Probably shouldn't keep the boss waiting too much longer."
Luisila looks over to the front bar.
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A tall, lean elf enters the Alembic. The man's skin is pale as is his long hair which some would say is the white of snow. The elf carries a longbow slung on his shoulder and one of those overhyped elven curve blades strapped to his back. Despite the weapons, the man also carries the typical accouterments of a spellcaster, a large tome, various pouches and bottles, and a satchel with a pair of rabbit ears sticking out.
Moving to the bar, he nods to bartender. "Greetings barkeep. Do you have any winter mead on hand?"
Turning and leaning his back on the bar, he surveys the room, looking for familiar faces.
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Luisila smiles. "Well I'm very pleased to hear that!"
The half-elf suddenly looks distracted. "Will you excuse me, Aakif? I've just spotted an old friend from a mission in Korvosa."
Luisila attempts to sneak up behind the Erdritch Knight and give him a hug from behind.
"Sweet Cali's Caress, Caradeum Genwyllian! How did you get in here without me seeing you!"
"What do you think of what they've done with the Alembic? You remember Cleaver and Brachus of course!"
Luisila pulls herself up and places a hand over her mouth. "Oh ... We might have to save the catch-up for later ... The VC is waiting."
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"Bring your drinks. But there'll be more waiting for you." Luisila calls over her shoulder as she leads you to an unassuming door of faded wood marked PRIVATE, weaving her way beside or over drunken patrons, trays of ale and at least one piggy hurdle.
The door bears a pair of surprisingly good-quality brass locks. The priestess looks over her shoulder and gives three low whistles. She waits for the four-armed barkeep and elven lady's man to respond with bored nods, before opening the door onto a dimly-lit tiled conference room.
"This is as far as I go. And before you ask, I know nothing about the mission you've been recruited for. I'm only here because one of the Ten still has a hornet in her helm about the 'New' Shadow Lodge."
Luisila *rolls* her eyes. "They've assigned agents as bodyguards for the new VC's after that incident with Dreng, but once they get the first month's overtime bill, I'm sure they'll decide the Shadow Lodge resurgence was just a coupla isolated incidents ... And I can get back to real Pathfindering."
The conference room's darkwood panelling matches that of the rest of the Alembic. The torches that line the walls glow with a yellow alchemical light, with spotlights on two tapestries - the walls' only adornments. The first displays the Glyph of the Open Road - symbol of the Pathfinder Society and those loyal to the Decemvirate. The second shows the two-toned mask of Nethys, God of magic.
The conference table is laden with fermented beverages, pizza and focaccia. Six of the matching chairs have been drawn out from beneath the table in anticipation of your arrival.
The seventh chair is occupied.
"All have answered the summons, Venture-Captain." Luisila's tone is unusually deferential.
"Good luck, guys." She blows a kiss before closing the door. Shortly after you hear a pair of *clicks*
"So, you all meet in a tavern."
The seated man laughs at his own jest.
Seated before you is a human man wearing a roomy green lab coat that seems to bulge at his back. An untidy thatch of grey-black hair is pulled back from a face bearing the marks of one who has endured and overcome all the challenges a life of adventure can shoot, slash and throw at you.
The man's voice is refined, calm and confident. His eyes are hidden behind wrap-around shades. While the quality of numerous discreet jewellery items indicate someone comfortable with their wealth and station, with no need of the ostentation some 'newly-arrived' are keen to flaunt. A myriad of glass vials *clink* as he gestures or emphasises a point while speaking.
"I've completed all the arrangements," Venture-Captain Filosten declares as he clasps a glass in one hand and motions to the open seats around the table before you.
He makes no attempt to lower his voice, confident of not not being overheard. "You may have heard Tien whispers about a new trail being opened up north of Varisia. You six now have Need to Know the full story. There's an island called Flintyreach a few hundred miles northwest of Magnimar, Varisia. And thanks to all of the giants, the only folk with the guts to live there are half-orcs. Averaka's the largest half-orc town the world's ever seen. And for whatever reason ..." Filosten smiles as he flexes a bicep. "I got along with them pretty nicely, during my time there."
"One of their scouts spotted fresh Thassilonian ruins recently, and the plan had been to have you along to help me check them out. Unfortunately, all this 'Reborn Shadow Lodge' nonsense has kept me in Absalom longer than I'd hoped, and now the Ten have directed me to assist Venture-Captain Calisro Benarry prepare for an expedition south to Garund and the Gloomspires. The long and short of it is that the Thassilonian site's all yours now, if you're still interested. You travel to Varisia by way of the Hao Jin Tapestry and then overland to Magnimar where I've secured a ship to take you to Flintyreach in good time. I'll finish up a letter to introduce you to the Averakans in just a bit."
VC Filosten leans over the table. "Here's some good news, now. For about ten years, Chief Gorgnak has ruled the local giants. It sounds like one of his underlings has rebelled and started capturing Gorgnak's cronies to work for her, and the chief is right pissed. One of my Averakan assets let me know that our half-orc pals are planning a big assault to strike the giants while they're squabbling, and you can use that chaos to slip through contested territory, check out the ruins and make sure that anything you can't explore or bring back isn't likely to fall into the trolls' hands before we can send a bigger team to finish the job."
"Once the Grinning Pixie has had her back-side re-coppered, I need to oversee the commissioning of some ... advanced self-defense mechanisms." Filosten grins before mouthing the word, BOOM! "So VC Benarry can sail south swiftly and securely. That only gives us a short time for questions."
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Aakif pulls out a journal from his backpack and scribbles furiously as the VC speaks. He pauses and looks up from his work.
"So, explore the ruins, bring back what we can, and don't let the Giants get anything good. Are we looking for anything specific? Anything rumored to be there? How will we locate the ruins once we arrive on the island? Can we borrow or purchase some extra dimensional spaces to bring back the obscene amount of artifacts we are certain to acquire?.
“I admire your enthusiasm, Ser. Sadly it’s getting harder to find amongst … more seasoned agents.”
The swarthy Keleshite VC makes a dismissive wave with his hand. “No need for any demi-planar kit. Just loot … uh, bring back for examination and possible display for cultural significance, the good stuff that’s portable.”
“I’m confident Pathfinders of your experience will know it when you see it. Remember you’re a recce squad making an opportunistic raid NOT the army of occupation. That’ll be later on.”
"How will we locate the ruins once we arrive on the island?" .
“Well, see. That’s pretty much up to you.”
Filosten looks Aaakif in the eye. "The half-orc scout knows where they are. And he has a boss, who also has a boss, and so on up the tree to the three Councillors that govern Averaka. Those are the chaps you need to butter up."
The Venture-Captain ticks the names off his fingers as he speaks. “Bravok is a personal friend of mine and VC Benarry’s. Travels far and wide to spread the good word of Averaka. Because make no mistake, these are some of the finest people in all of Avistan.”
“Kommandant Kalla Tuskbreaker minds the town guards and patrols. He has a decorated past, having once worked for the one-and-only White Estrid, before she became a Linnorm King.” VC Filosten inclines his head in Varg’s direction.
“Suata Irontongue guides lore, arts and culture. All three can be stubborn at times but there are few people I respect more.”
“What else?”
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Fendahl makes a few notes as well as he patiently listens.
"Hrrmm, any other adversaries to be expected? I have not heard mention of Aspis yet. It is rare to not have them appear whenever dealing with the Hao Jin Tapestry.
Also, will we need to respond with any message once we reach the destination or are ready to return?"
"Hrrmm. One last question. Is there any problem bringing along a pet cat? She is has many useful qualities, but petite is not one of them."