Pathfinders,
I do hope you’ll join us at the Grand Lodge for the celebration to congratulate the most recent group of initiates—yourselves included! A good time is certain to be had by all, but it’s more than just a party. Gatherings like this are an excellent opportunity to rub elbows with the Society’s leadership and get to know them. That means you’ll always be quick to know about the best opportunities as soon as they arise. I hope you’ll take advantage of the event to put your best foot forward.
I’m looking forward to seeing you there!
—Janira Gavix, Pathfinder Society Head Initiate
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Finally a change of pace he thinks. I'm ready for more adventure once more. Too long have I waited here in Absalom for my life to move on from the Aspis. Cheap street performances can only give you so much self-fulfillment. Hopefully the Pathfinder Society won't prove as brutal as the Aspis were.
He quickly packs his things into his backpack. He affixes his bandolier and puts his hatchets, sling, and sling bullets. He then looks at his shortbow in remembrance, thinking Old friend, into the fray once again. He then attaches his quiver, checks his now-yellow piece of paper that describes all of what he needs to bring for adventuring, and heads to the Grand Lodge.
Gorwinel arrives a little early, but not too early. He figures many of the younger crowd (for him) appreciate someone who is punctual but not trying to outshine the others.
He wears leather armor, and carries a very-full backpack. He carries numerous ranged weapons on him - hatchets, sling, and most prominently his shortbow. He wears an aged elven face, although the elves never seem to age as much as others even in their 200's.
He waits for others present to initiate dialogue. He figures to let others start the conversation, figuring he has no idea what local gossip or current events in Absalom they may talk about. He never paid too much attention to such things.
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Another elf sweeps in at precisely the appointed time. "Losseyel," she says, with a half-bow, after greeting Gorwinel.
She is thin even for an elf, wearing a practical but perfectly fitted shirt, breeches, and coat. A rapier is slung at her side. Her pale hair is gathered into a complicated braid and knot, and is set off by her vivid blue eyes. Despite her icy appearance, she wears a friendly smile.
A small, grayish-brown fox walks at Losseyel's heels. It sits down as she stops, and bobs its head as she bows.
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A moderately tall male scuttles out from the side, having fallen asleep in a corner. He is wearing a purple scarf, a cloth duster, under which can be seen the metal shine of studded leather-behind him in his corner sits a backpack and various alchemical tools affixed. As he raises his arm to greet the others, the tell tail signs of his geneology can be noticed, one ear slightly elongated, and elvish eyes, set against his more human features.
” Howdy, Sorry, I had a late night, fell asleep in the corner. I’m Zazz. Oh, a fox! Would it be alright to pet?”
As he points at the small fox, a sickle and small crossbow can be seen clipped to his gear.
Arriving at the Grand Lodge it seems the entire place has the air of a celebration.
The great gates have been flung wide, and the phoenix trees lining the entryway are in full flame. The halls of the main tower of Skyreach, normally somber and reserved, echo with the sound of voices and music.
The great ballroom is decked for a celebration, with colorful banners and bunting along the walls, tables replete with food and drink, and a jovial cacophony of conversation rising from Pathfinders of all ancestries, nations, and backgrounds.
After a quick scan of the room, it’s obvious that many of the attendees have gathered in small groups here and there. A half-orc woman in an iconic ship captain’s hat stands near the punch bowl, handing cups to anyone who passes within reach, and a dark-skinned half-elf leads a small group of new agents around the room, introducing them to other attendees. Several senior agents stand in quiet conferral with a dark-haired Taldan man with a distinctive chin strap beard, while a scholarly dwarf tells a rousing tale to a growing audience.
A familiar blond halfling woman bounces over, bubbling with excitement. Janira Gavix, Head Initiate of the Pathfinder Society, grins,
“Oh, I’m so glad you made it! After all, the celebration is for you. Have you gotten drinks? Snacks? Be sure to spend some time getting to know everyone—it’s best to be on good terms with the movers and shakers in the Society, that’s how you learn about the latest opportunities. I’ll be here if you need me to help you with anyone’s names or to make an introduction. Just let me know how I can help!”
Janira gestures everyone forward into the room, beaming all
the while.
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The string quartet launched into the accelerando, the lead violin setting the tempo as chairs were shoved out of the way to make room for more dancers. Those unwilling or unable to swirl across the parqueted floor began clapping in appreciation as servers moved amongst the tables, clearing dishes and glasses. The bride and groom, centre of the action, yelped with glee as they parted and selected family and friends to dance with them in their revelry.
The palest of blue eyes scanned the tables, identifying the empty chair of the father of the bride, the head of the Certabael family. With a deft hand, the servant cleared the half-eaten plates from the table, a folded and sealed slip of expensive paper left behind on the patriarchal chair. The contents of the Chelish crest-adorned missive - damning words about the faithlessness of the groom and his direct ties to Almas political parties - would be found later, well after Dymus Certabael had exceeded his tolerance of the fine Chelish wine, well after his famous ire could be tempered by sobriety, and well after the palest of blue eyes had exited the kitchens of the manor house in the Petals District, shedding the disguise as they plunged into moon-soaked streets.
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Orla walks into the Grand Lodge, mouth wide in wonderment, her shock-red hair in pigtails that thwack against her cheeks as she whips her head from one sight to the next. The pale blue eyes take in the notable notaries in the room, narrowing nigh-imperceptibly as the personalities are parsed.
“Oh, I’m so glad you made it!...Just let me know how I can help!”
Orla immediately approaches the halfling, arms wide for a warm embrace into her velvet dark-blue gown returned enthusiastically by the Head Initiate. The pale halfling giggles at Janira's raised eyebrows and unspoken question.
"Don't glare at me, Miss Gavix!" she replies in a playful sassy tone. "You know as well as I that I have borrowed this with the permission of Elder Kova. There are no coins left in the purse!" She turns her shoulders in a coy fashion, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Does it suit me? I should have had it taken in at the hips....stop staring at me like that! You're going to make me as nervous as a raisin-cake at a Varisian funeral!"
She turns suddenly, introducing herself with an ease of grace to the other gathered initiates.
"My manners were never my strong-suit, my hearth-mother said. Please forgive me. I am Orla Pfeffenpfoffer. With an F." A crooked smile follows the introduction as she moves to shake the hand of each of the others. "I am tickled rosy by the opportunity of your company this evening! Speaking of company, Janira," the blithe halfling transitions, touching the Head Initiate on the upper arm and a nod at the half-elven woman, "would you be so kind to introduce me to Fola Barun? I had asked Master Shaine for the potential for an introduction during a recent lesson, but I gather that he and she don't necessarily 'equal a we' consistently." She giggles at her own rhyme.
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Gorwinel smiles at the two halflings' enthusiasm. He has always liked the general optimism most halflings exude. Turning to Orla, "A pleasure to meet you, Orla. I am Gorwinel Virdin," he pauses for a brief moment and then says with a smile, "with an 'el' at the end of my first name like many elves have. I will have to ask you to write down your name at some point so I can say it properly, if that's not too much to ask?"
He turns to Zazz. He seems a little caught off guard by Zazz's presence, but looks down and quickly straightens himself before looking back up and speaking, "A pleasure to meet you as well. Some punch does sound good, but I'd like some water as well to dilute it. I find most caterers around here like their sugar and flavoring a little too much."
He quickly turns away from Zazz and recalls some memories from long ago. Oh, my son. Where have you gone? How I wish to know how you've turned out.
Talking to Janira, "And I suppose I should find my way to Calisro Benarry. I have been a wanderer and adventurer during my past life, and feel I could connect with her most easily."
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Arriving late, a tall, rugged, and slightly disheveled human man stops his sprint in front of the Grand Lodge ballroom. He smiles and winks at Janira, flashing the missive he received from her. He knows he's late, but how else are you supposed to make an entrance if you're entering with a crowd? One of Locke's core tenants is to always ask for forgiveness rather than permission. Very few things are more impprtant to Locke Highwind than Locke Highwind, not even his initiation into the Pathfinder Society.
He quickly runs his hands through his mussed brown hair and readjusts the collar of his tunic. As if a switch had been flipped, the panting and messy Locke from moments before suddenly transforms into the Locke most people remember - a charmer, oozing with confidence.
"Hello, hello, greetings, sorry for the tardiness, how are you, how are the kids?" he says to his fellow initiates with his usual, somewhat flippant attitude. He quickly scans the crowd, looking for any familiar faces from his training. Locke knows that when life offers you an opportunity to make a good impression, you seize it, no questions asked.
Meanwhile, Nicudil finds a quiet corner, tucks himself under a chair, and curls up, looking bored.
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Zazz retrurns balancing a small parcel of snacks, and two drinks. Handing one off to Gorwinel "I didn't have enough hands to carry water as well, so I watered it down some. Hopefully its to your liking."
Once his hands are free, he begins to snack upon his banquent prizes, noticing Locke, Howdy, I'm Zazz, want a snack? I don't know what this is...some kind of tart with jelly I think."
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Gorwinel is amused by the description of "kid" in any fashion to describe him. He's certainly older than most of the guests at the banquet. "Locke, pleasure to meet you. I'm Gorwinel..." He sees Locke trail off to looking over the crowd and decides to leave him alone for now.
Taking the glass from Zazz, "The gesture is greatly appreciated." He nods in reverence, perhaps a little too formally for the occasion.
Glass in hand, Gorwinel starts to be on the lookout for Calisro.
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Orla takes in the older elf with her pale blue eyes. A slow smile creeps across her face as Gorwinel asks her to write down her name.
"Why, no one has ever asked me to write my name down before!" she says with enthusiasm. "I will get right to it once we're done celebrating!"
She looks with anticipation to Zazz, Losseyel, and Locke as arrive, announce their names, and fail to look below their waists to the be-gowned halfling. Well-versed in going unnoticed, the smile doesn't fade from Orla's face and she looks to the throng of people for further engagement.
The party appears to be a nice luncheon, several of you recognize some of the more prominent members of the Society here, Calistro does seem to be near the punch bowl handing out drinks, but first the small group gathered around Gorm Greathammer, head of the Grand Archive draws your attention
"And then we played the perfect note, thus lifting the curse of the chalice..." explains Gorm Greathammer.
He however is interrupted by a rather ravishing Chelish woman that Zazz recognises as Zarta Dralneen, former head of the Dark Archive, the Society's repository of cursed items and dangerous relics. She has left much of her past behind her though and has settled into the position of Head Archivist.
"No, no no," she interrupts, "That kind of curse can't be broken by singing..."
Gorm Greathammer seems greatly annoyed and Zarta's repeated interruptions are making it difficult to complete his story. He does have surprisingly evocative eyes for a dwarf as he looks to ya'll in hopes you can be of help.
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Seeing his companions all swoop in to help distract Zarta, Locke beams at Form as he approaches.
"Gorm! It's good to see you! I've got all my paperwork in, and I'm officially a member of your operations now! Thanks again for the recommendation, by the way, I really appreciate that. As the greatest treasure hunter in all of the Inner Sea, I promise I won't let the Grand Archive down!”
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Zazz continues to munch on snacks and is rather amused at the interactions between former and current heads. Relishing the relative rare opportunity to see the clash of preferred method of leaderships.
Additionally, Zazz privately considers that if Zarta is indeed correct, that Greathammer really shouldn't be emblesshing his stories in front of newly trained members with low experience in the field--like himself. Over embleshments of methodology for the sake of entertainment could turn to sour grapes in the field.
Gorm grins as Zarta's complaints get sidetracked.
Without Zarta's interruptions he is able to finish his story and after a roaring round of applause he take you lot aside, after giving Zazz and Locke a particularly big smile he speaks
"Aye, thanks for that. Let me return the favor, I've got a lead on some juicy research going on over at the College of Mysteries. I've heard a scholar there is working on some potentially dangerous research. I haven't heard exactly what it is but I do know it's based on some nameless scrolls from Nidal. Now the originals are probably written on human skin or something equally disguising... but if you could secure a copy..."
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"Say no more! Like, please, say no more. I'll..."
Locke's eyes widen and he glanced around at his companions quickly.
"I mean, WE will take care of this for you! It would be an honor to recover some ancient knowledge on behalf of the Pathfinders Society. You can count on me, uh, I mean us!" Locke nervously says with a laugh, clearly unaccustomed to working as part of a larger team.
He turns around to his companions as they finish their conversation with Zarta.
"I don't know if you all caught that, but Gorm has a special assignment for us to recover to some ancient scrolls that are possiobeing used for dangerous research! This is a perfect opportunity to prove ourselves as fresh initiates. You know what they say, favors are just as valuable as a coin."
Locke quickly turns back to Grom and says, "Any information or tips that you could help us out with? Like, do you know anything about this reckless scholar and their research? I always prefer to go in armed with as much information as arrows in my quiver."
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Zazz gives Locke various glances as he talks. but ultimately decides that he's happy for a coworker who enjoy the spotlight.
"Attention gives me such a stomachache. Hopefully I don't vomit... That would be a great impression. Just stay calm, keep writing and you'll be fine Zazz."
Nodding at Grom's assignment, rapidly pulling out a notepad he made at the start of training and begins jotting down details, and asking clarifying questions.
"So, you just want copies of it, not the originals? How likely is the College to allow copies to be created? It seems the sort of research a scholar would prefer to keep to themselves. Research is paid for by notariety and potential benefits... Sharing is rarely caring I imagine.
Happen to know.. in what way its dangerous?
Bound in flesh.
I'd hate to donate to the page count."
Gorm smiles "Glad to see your enthusiasm. I'm afraid we've about exhausted my details of the matter but as Pathfinders I'm sure you can sort it out think of it as an adventure, maybe you can do the researcher a favor and help out, who knows, but make sure to enjoy the rest of the party before you go, no need to rush off before the desert plates. I might even have a little something to help you out."
Gorm is happy to chat for awhile longer before Zarta heads back his direction and he ducks out.
Bringing us back to Calisro Benarry and the punch bowl.
There she's handing out cups to any who get near, well at least she's trying to, but standing between her and the punch bowl is Trade Prince Aaqir al-Hakam, leader of the former Pathfinder Faction known as The Exchange.
He speaks "Now just listen to my proposal... If we could just rent a small portion of your ship on an ongoing basis, with enough warning about your destinations we could make some very lucrative trades..."
Calistro seems more interested in drinking at the moment than listening to business proposals but doesn't seem to quite be able to extricate herself politely.
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"It's so very exciting - our first prospect of doing some real good for the Pathfinder Society. I've known a library or two in my time. You can count on us, Master Greathammer!"
Orla follows the flow of her Pathfinder mates towards the punch bowl once the dwarf retreats from the Head Archivist's attention. She nods towards the female half-orc wearing the tri-cornered hat.
"Is this who you're looking to meet, Gorwinel?" Orla asks the older elven warrior. As he nods, Orla winks a pale blue eye, cocks her head upwards in the direction of the Trade Prince, and tests her faith.
the halfling starts loudly, breaking the cadence of the practiced Keleshite, "then you'd do well to speak with my former 'employers', the Certabael family. We can speak more of the specifics in a more refined place at a more refined time, but I know that they're in the position to sell off some assets recently acquired in an ill-fated marriage partnership - and fast." The gutsy halfling extends her hand to shake that of the Trade Prince. "I'm Orla Pfeffenpfoffer. With an F. New Pathfinder Initiate. A pleasure, to be sure."
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Gorwinel nods to Orla and smiles. He certainly appreciates her help and enthusiasm.
Gorwinel sees he Trade Prince with Calisro, and trusts the rest of the party to take care of him while he talks with her, trying to butt his way into the conversation.
"Greetings Calisro. May I speak with you for a moment about something important? We could go gets more drinks if you'd like."
Aquir is unfortunately not overly interested in Orla's offer but between Losseyel's suggestion and Gorwinel's offer you are easily able to extract Calisro Benarry from an unwanted conversation.
After making sure you all have fresh cups she smiles and brings you in close.
Doffing her cap "Ahh Pathfinders, I'm much appreciated for yer help back there."
Looking you over she smiles, almost as if ready to give you a dare. "I know if a partially collapsed house in the Precipice Quarter, long rumoured to be haunted.... You could gain yourselves a good story by staying overnight before it's demolished. Not only would such an endeavor prove your mettle and provide you with experience camping in potentially unfriendly territory. You might even learn some interesting tidbits about the house's former owners.
She finishes with a wink "Not every discovery requires weeks of grueling travel." before handing you a flask full of a potent smelling red liquid.
"A pick me up for when you really need it."
From there Orla can see Fola Barun, head of the Envoy's Alliance who is trying to make her way around the party to meet and greet various initiates such as yourselves but is currently being stymied by the Pathfinder Society’s Master of Scrolls, Kreighton Shane.
The absent-minded elf with long, blond hair seems currently obsessed by some puzzle or the like and keeps trying to ask Fola Barun to confirm various bits of history.
Many of you recognized the Master of Scrolls from various bits of Pathfinder training and know that he's a brilliant puzzle-solver and code-breaker, although his odd mannerisms leave many agents bewildered.
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Hearing details about a possible puzzle peak's Zazz's interest. Overcomming some social anxiety, Zazz walks over and tries to listen in to see what kind of puzzle it is. "Oh, sir, Is that a puzzle? What kind? I do like some kinds of puzzles. In particular I enjoy mechanical puzzles or architectural puzzles. I find it highly useful to look at the puzzle from a completely different perspective when stuck. You can never know what the creator's mindset was at creation afterall."
Zazz will attempt to help figure out a puzzle, relying more on his knowledge of mechanisms than on his more l imited history.
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Orla smiles in a tight-lipped fashion as she spies her tutor within the School of Scrolls. She moves fluidly to the elf's side.
"Master Shaine? Orla Pfeffenpfoffer here. Did you know that the Razatlani empire of Arcadia based an entire division of their military forces on puzzle-breakers and code-talkers? It's true! My great-great aunt Sylvia served House Caerthorn of Westcrown. Her former mistress had visitors from all parts and stories from even more places. Nevertheless, I heard it from her on good authority. Perhaps I even have a trinket from great-great aunt Sylvia in my possession still - it may in fact be an Arcadian puzzle!"
Between offers regarding various puzzles and Gorwinel and Orla's offers Kreighton Shane gets distracted on an entirely new chain of thought and wanders off muttering to himself.
With that Fola Barun smiles "Thank you Pathfinders, I thought he'd never stop bothering me about that. I hate to burden you with further tasks but with your use of words you're clearly the right folks for the task. A Pathfinder was petrified during the Charge of the Gorgon for smuggling a forbidden item into the city. The relic in question had been recovered from an Azlanti ruin within gillmen territory at the Society’s request; while the item was confiscated by the city and returned to the gillmen watching over the site, I feel that the Society should take responsibility in getting the Pathfinder restored."
She pauses for a moment before continuing "With help from the Society’s legal team, I've gotten permission to restore our Pathfinder but I need some Pathinfers to actually go carry out the directive."
She will give you a greater salve of antiparalysis along with directions to the Street of Statues and a sketch of the Pathfinder.
She finishes up "And as a reminder that words are frequently preferable over violence take this."
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"Thank you Fola, we will take care of it."
Locke looks back to his companions and smiles.
"Well well, I'm starting to sense a pattern here. It seems our leaders are eager to test us as fresh initiates with some assignments. We might as well go speak with 'ol Chin Strap and see what kind of work he's got for us too."
Locke makes sure to walk back over to the punch bowl to receive a drink from Calisro before wandering over to Eando Kline.
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Giving a curt nod as the conversation ends, and taking to heart that the organization does not leave its members in distress-though mildly worried about requiring a legal team to gain permission to help. Ultimately deciding bureaucracy.
"Chin Strap?" Zazz asks, cocking his head to the side, while following along with the others.
Sensing an ongoing pattern our Pathfinders approach Eando Kline, potentially with drinks in hand.
There you find Eando Kline being berated by Venture Captain Ambrus Valsin, "Look Kline, you can't just keep telling Pathfinder to take care of business. The chain of command exists for a reason."
Many, if not all of you have previously met Ambrus Valsin, Venture Captain of the Grand Lodge here in Absalom. He appreciates hard work and staying out of trouble. Having been on the receiving end of one of Ambrus's lectures in the past you're sure Eando Kline would appreciate a distraction of sorts.