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An obviously distracted human walks into the room while the party awaits their briefing. Despite having a clear force of personality, he seems very unsure of himself. He looks down a lot and prefers not to meet the gaze of others while speaking. "Hi," he says meekly. His voice is barely as loud as a whisper. "My name's Dienaar. They said you need a healer."
He takes a seat in a corner of the room as far from the others as possible. He wears long clothes to cover the many, many scars all over his body. Whenever he thinks nobody is looking, he either picks at his scars or creates a new one with his dagger.
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Greetings Dienaar, I am Awveyen Thillvahna. responds a willowy elf who stands to greet you. He has a bluish grey clock, that instantly reminds you of a cold rocky shore, over golden armor that seems to bend and flow like no metal you've ever seem. The most distinguishing feature of his wardrobe though is the ornately craved wooden mask that covers his entire face.
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The oracle shrugs, almost imperceptibly. "I'm a Pathfinder," he says, as though that was a sufficient explanation of his behavior. "Even field agents are part of the greater circle... of... life... *" His words slow down and then stop altogether when he realizes that others are looking at him.
He lowers his head and lets his hood fall over his eyes as though it will hide his presence from the world--the way a very young child (or an ostrich) thinks that closing their eyes (or hiding their head in the sand) will keep them from being observed.
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You are all congregating in one of several libraries in the Magnimar Lodge. Sheila Heidmarch’s brief is short and to the point.
Thousands of years ago, a group of insanely powerful wizard kings ruled Thassilon, a vast world-spanning empire. Many of the great monuments in Varisia, including the Irespan here in Magnimar and the Storval Stairs, are relics of this forgotten age. The wizard kings wielded powerful rune magic and declared themselves runelords. The Thassilonian empire was destroyed by some immense cataclysmic event, but the runelords were prepared and entombed themselves in hidden, well protected chambers and put themselves into deep, magical sleep.
She sighs, Until recently, we thought the secret of the location of these chambers and methods of waking the runelords of Thassilon was forgotten. However, recent findings revealed that a powerful group of Lissalan cultists knows where Runelord Krune is sleeping and are working to waken him from his long sleep. Awakening a powerful and ambitious wizard like Krune would have a massive impact on Golarion the Decemvirate would prefer to avoid.
Sheila nods to the armored woman next to her. Ollysta has been actively pursuing the activities of the cult. She just got a lead about a powerful branch of Lissalan cultists operating in Kaer Maga. We need you to track down the cultists and find out what they are planning and disrupt their operation in Kaer Maga.
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Upon noticing the presence of his faction leader, Dienaar puts away his dagger and covers his arms in shame. His cheeks glisten with reflected light as tears well in his eyes.
Looking straight at the paladin of Sarenrae, the oracle stands and salutes. "Ma'am, what is that you wish me do?" he says in a surprisingly strong and normal-sounding voice.
It's a jarring change of demeanor. If you hadn't seen his previous behavior, you would think this man was only capable of resolute, decisive action.
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A Varisian man in his early fifties, wrinkles starting to cover his bald head. He has a large rune tattoed on his forehead, one that Thassilonian experts may recognize as the Wrath rune. Many other tattoos, either written in Varisian or Thassilonian, cover his body, including the Sihedron rune on his chest. The man is often seen with his chest bare, a red varisian scarf around his waist and breeches covering his legs. A veil of bone and silk covers his lower jaw and nose, embroidered with ancient symbols and Thassilonian runes. He's leaning on a masterfully carved ebony staff.
"I see we have a new addition." Shandor says, raising an eyebrow at the newcomer. "Very well."
Suddenly, his attention is caught by what Sheila Heidmarch says. "They know where one of the runelords is resting? That would be a priceless information... What do we know about them? Any solid leads within Kaer Maga?"
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Dienaar having already saluted, takes a step forward. Addressing Ollysta Zadrian, he asks: "Please, ma'am. Do you know where the cultists are? Will you join us to put an end to their nefarious plans?"
The Oracle's eyes glow with hope at the thought of adventuring alongside the famous Paladin. "Oh, the pain I could feel healing wounds wrought by foes!" he thinks to himself.
Immediately, as he realizes that he had such a disdainful thought, he lowers his head with shame. Taking a quick breath, he raises his head and asks: "Your orders, ma'am?"
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The elf remains in his seat, ignoring the fan far the others are showing for the Paladin.
It would seem that infiltrating cuts of Lissala has become somewhat of a specialty for us. We will locate this Cult and find out what we can before we eliminating it entirely. What can you tell us of the cults members?
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The elf remains in his seat, ignoring the fan far the others are showing for the Paladin.
It would seem that infiltrating cuts of Lissala has become somewhat of a specialty for us. We will locate this Cult and find out what we can before we eliminating it entirely. What can you tell us of the cults members?
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One of my friends from Absalom just sent me this basket of apple biscuits. He got them from a baker in Eastgate. He said this basket is magicked to keep them as hot and buttery fresh as the morning they were baked. The hesitant human opens one side of the basket, and the room is immediately filled with the warm, rich steam of fresh baked bread. The steam acts as a conveyance for the gentle spice of the cinnamon sugar lovingly sprinkled on each and every biscuit.
My other friend from Kassen sent along these pies. They were made by a group of local townsfolk. Dienaar hefts a chest emblazoned with the Glyph of the Open Road onto a nearby table. He mutters a command word and opens it. Pies of every kind--sweet and savory--fill the chest to an impossible depth. (Clearly, someone has appropriated one of Ambrus Valsin's recent experiments.)
Yet another friend from Tamran sent this. In yet another extra-dimensional space is an impossibly large, rich, thick lasagna. Generously stuffed with ground beef, sausage, onion, and garlic--and seasoned with salt, pepper, parsley, oregano, basil, chopped tomatoes with juice, and tomato (stirred until well mixed)--the look and smell of the dish is delightful!
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Awveyen
Dienaar
you don't get any new information from what you didn't learn in The Cultist's Kiss, you just know that Lissala is the corrupt goddess of runes and knowledge, and her holy symbol is the Sihedron.
In response to your questions, Ollysta states plainly, “Several weeks ago a friend of the Society in Kaer Maga sent me a letter asking for help with a criminal element in the City of Strangers. She realized that they were tampering with foul magic, and that we were her best chance to find help. You’ll meet her at or near the Blushing Rose brothel. Ask for Miss Feathers. We’re not sure how embroiled in this she is, so make sure she’s doing well. She can be a valuable contact in the city.”
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Ollysta responds to Shandor, We think Kaer Maga’s lack of a single authority is what draws the cult here, so that being said the only group likely to take any interest in what you’re doing, will be that cult.
You know that she is the corrupt goddess of runes and knowledge and her symbol is the Sihedron.
You know that Lissala’s high priest was Krune the Runelord of Sloth. Even though she has vanished and he has been sleeping, the cult remains dedicated to returning her influence to Golarion.
You know that in Thassilonian times, followers of Lissala would practice a ritual called the Feast of Sigils, emphasizing indulgence and excess.
And finally you know that the ancient Lissalan Feast of Sigils was a ritual of power, wherein participants would sacrifice a small portion of themselves in return for great power.
You find Miss Feathers drinking scotch in a tavern across from The Blushing Rose, the foremost brothel in the city.
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You find Miss Feathers drinking scotch in a tavern across from The Blushing Rose, the foremost brothel in the city. Though she stands a full head taller and she has muscles that ripple under her sequined dress, she looks quite at home sitting with half dozen more traditional looking working ladies.
She has a deep booming voice, and she laughs heartily. Upon your approach, she motions for the other girls to clear out.
Oh, finally! Look, let's get through this quickly. This girl has got to get her drink on. You know I appreciate all Pathfinders do, and all that other blah blah blah, but I don't need to be seen with you.
She continues quickly to discourage you from sitting down and getting too comfortable. I only told Ollysta a little bit, but here's the deal. Some of the girls at the Blushing Rose went missing, and Madame Rose was none too happy. She figured I"m a girl that can take care of herself, so she sent me in to look around where they got off to, or to see whether maybe another cathouse snagged 'em.
She takes another sip of her scotch. This one guy, Gelwin, he's a customer, says he had seen some of them, so when I asked him, he said he that they been feeling down, so he sent them to the lethe house that he'd done some forged contracts for.
I go looking around and they rope me in to this weird ritual. She shudders. I ain't felt right since and I knew it was some magic kind of business that your sort should look in to.
She sighs and continues, The girls still ain't back, and now Gelwin's gone, too, though I can't say I want him to start coming back around.
There was this other grup of people that said they was Pathfinders, but they didn't seem like the real helpful type, so I sent my letter instead.
She hands you a slip of paper with an address in the Hospice district.
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Shandor listens to Miss Feathers with grave intensity, trying to spot any details that might be of help. He then inspects her with the help of detect magic to check if there's any lingering magic about her from the ritual.
"Miss Feathers, what was this ritual like? What did it involve exactly? Could you explain it to us? As for this other group claiming to be Pathfinders, what did they look like?"
"Lastly, what should we expect at this addess? Is it Gelwin's?"
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I didn't pay that much attention the ritual, but they had us bleed a bit and they painted our blood on some crackers. Afterwards I felt sort of... I don't know, incomplete.
She looks briefly in Shandor's direction, This lethe house, is kinda scuzzy. The drug makes you forget your troubles for a while. There are a lot of sad, sad people there.
She appears to think rather intently, I don't remember anything about the other group, but they didn't strike me as Pathfinders, not from what I knew about Pathfinders.
Gelwin does forgeries, mostly contracts. He works for the Church of Asmodeus, and they get in to the official records. He spends most of his earnings over at the Rose. The address isn't his, it is the address he gave me, of the lethe house.
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Unfortunately, Dienaar looks into the window just as one of Miss Feather's... um... associates concludes a... well... a transaction... with a potential... er... customer. The window is far too fogged up for Dienaar to see anything.
"I really should have cast status on the party before leaving them behind," the Oracle says aloud to nobody in particular. "At least that way I'd know how many healing spells I might have to cast..."
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As you try to read the aura of Miss Feathers, you get a lot of knowledge of a lot of scotch having been drunk, and a lot of sadness.
You leave The Blushing Rose and head to the Hospice District.
In a block filled with several boarded-up houses and businesses, this graying wooden structure appears to have once been a tavern many years ago. The sign in the front has been pulled down and the front windows are boarded up, but unlike the other houses on the block, the door is open and a few patrons can be seen entering and leaving the place.
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The sorcerer cannot suppress a grin as Julian speaks.
I like that one, he understands the meaning of raw power.
"Obviously our mission could benefit some kind of stealth and deception, which I have no problem with of course. You make a good point, Dienar. We could start as covert and let the events unfold as they will undoubtely yield to our overwhelming power. Let's enter and see for ourselves. We could even pretend to be looking for that same treatment, perhaps."
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@Dienaar you can tell they have all seem drugged, and they all appear to have something they are ashamed of, or want to forget.
Do any of them look like they'd be amenable to chatting? Can we get some info from them? If so, I'll use that Sense Motive check to pick a likely candidate or two.
"Hey, brother(s) (sister(s)?). It's hard out here, ain't it?"
"The Lethe helping?"
"I hear you; I hear you. It's really hard in this part of Kaer Maga. Hey, are they cool in the Lethe House? I mean, they're not all judgmental and preachy, right? And do they charge a fair price; they don't expect too much in return, do they?"
"So, how many guys are there in the boss' crew? Are they cool? Do they use Lethe, too? Do they take it out on you guys if they get angry? What kind of things do they talk about? What do they look like? Are they badass? What kinds of weapons do they have?"
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You chat with a few people as they leave the establishment.
First, you meet Kellin. He is a wealthy-looking youth, but has a haunted look on his face and wears a bright red fedora. He tells you that he uses lethe to help him dull his memory and forget his witnessing of a brutal street killing. “It’s not about the buzz. Sometimes it’s best to just put things behind you. The lethe helps.”
After that you encounter Bol. This emaciated man with hollow eyes is garbed in ragged clothes. He tells you he is a former adventurer, and was struck by a curse he couldn’t afford to have removed. Now he is homeless and destitute, he takes lethe to forget his former life. He tears up a bit when telling you, “I used to be great—I had a sword and killed things. The lethe helps me sleep now.”
The third person you encounter is Helcret. She is a young Varisian woman, makes a meager living selling small Shoanti crafts. A year ago, when she was hustling a wealthy merchant, her daughter wandered into the street and was crushed to death by a passing wagon. She blames herself for her daughter’s death and takes lethe when she can afford it. “It doesn’t make me happy, it just dulls the hurt.”
Finally, you meet Ormyth. This youth came to Kaer Maga chasing a merchant’s daughter. A reckless nature and a penchant for doing odd jobs with few questions asked has left him with a few short digits on each hand. For Ormyth, lethe is a pleasure drug to be used with friends or more intimate company. “Hey, sometimes its better if people don’t remember things all too clearly.”
During the afternoon and into the evening, a small crowd of patrons gather in the lobby of the Lethe House, usually 7–15 people circulating in small groups. Some of the patrons pass around small pipes and offer some to each of you. The pipes create a slight haze of chemical laden smoke, making you a little light-headed.
The lethe house is run by Drollis, a lazy, foul-smelling dwarf who relishes his position of authority. He sits in a large armchair in the corner, flirting crudely with female patrons and laughing raucously at jokes only he gets. A ceremonial stand behind him is topped with a jagged circular object covered by a heavy cloth. Drollis occasionally targets a spittoon to the side of his chair with a large gob of tobacco spit.
When you arrive, Drollis is friendly and offers to let you sample a few doses of lethe. He even invites you to take a tour of the lethe house.