"Enjoy sunny Nidal. I am off to Nar-Voth. I will contact you should I find anything useful"
"Enjoy sunny Nidal. I am off to Nar-Voth. I will contact you should I find anything useful"
"I can set up a permanent telepathic bond between you and whomever you wish. I can do this multiple times if needed, but not all in one day. "
The tribute from Lavosha and Voshgurvaghol arrive as usual. No refugees appear this month, but with a population of 200—more than half of them drow—there is noise and movement among the several restored city blocks of houses. Over weeks of construction, one of the libraries next to the town hall is restored; books buried deep underground and preserved by magic and dry sand are hauled to the surface, fragments of the Stranger's ancient collections and hidden book vaults buried among the ruins of the city.
Under the party's advice, Jiator also oversees construction of a mint. Following Anaxian's advice as treasurer, the city begins to press a curious set of coins, distinct in their materials and imagery. With small circulation, however, the main currencies of the city remain jewels and ingots of gold, brought in from Lavosha or traders from Ilvarandin—as Drisquar begins to donate his murder victims' bodies to the Intellect Devourer stockpile, a steady flow of precious wealth, extraplanar gems and art objects trickles into the city, small but significant against the few actual number of local transactions.
Indeed, the economy of the city has begun to resemble that of a gold rush town—flush with material wealth and luxuries, but light in the actual essentials. Whole bars of silver can be seen traded for grubby fish, bowls of mushroom soup, and vermin carcasses. Durable buildings are built from quarried stone and rough lumber, assembled by the power of song and finished by aspiring masons, but most houses contain a dozen times as many paintings and candelabras as residents. There is a certain cheer in the air; while most of the citizens are poor refugees threatened by the powerful outsiders and aberrations that parade through the streets, the sign of so much wealth is highly inspiring to the materialistic culture of the Drow.
The nearby forest is, at the beginning of the month, full of vegepygmies and fungal horrors; but with Illia's harpies at play, local populations of such appear to be rapidly decreasing. A few fishing barges are also floated onto the nearby lake, as a steady supply of water is brought into the city—brackish, but easily purified. The fish of Sekamina's ponds are twisted, blubbery things, often fanged and monstrous; but their flesh is, primarily, edible, and they provide a steady supply of new bones and teeth for the necrocrafting Anaxian and Jiator to repair worker skeletons as they are damaged, helping to offset the city's upkeep expenses.
And, finally, the Council of Colors decides that the city is healthy enough to run itself without its champions for a few days or weeks, and plans are made to search for another one of the missing ancients. Mother Diamanda was last seen, by Sir John, with declared intent to join the Shades of the Uskwood, in the shadowy nation of Nidal; and so the party sets off to Nidal, to learn more.
The Shades of the Uskwood are an ancient druidic order that has flourished for millennia in the nation of Nidal. Like the nation's rulers and citizens, they serve the Midnight Lord Zon-Kuthon, god of torture, darkness, and shadows. While Nidal is perhaps the most secretive nation in all of Avistan, if not Golarion, the Shades are more secretive still; hidden away in the lightless deaths of the sprawling Uskwood, a forest known for its extreme density shadows and connections to Nar-Voth, their numbers and locations are almost entirely unknown.
The Shades of the Uskwood are an ancient druidic order that has flourished for millennia in the nation of Nidal. Like the nation's rulers and citizens, they serve the Midnight Lord Zon-Kuthon, god of torture, darkness, and shadows. While Nidal is perhaps the most secretive nation in all of Avistan, if not Golarion, the Shades are more secretive still; hidden away in the lightless deaths of the sprawling Uskwood, a forest known for its extreme density shadows and connections to Nar-Voth, their numbers and locations are almost entirely unknown.
But after several hours poring away over the city's most recent tomes, you find other clues. While the Shades of the Uskwood are savage and hostile even to the enigmatic residents of Nidal, they still appear to follow the same goals. There is evidence that the druids of the Shades have, on various occasions, coordinated with the Umbral Court, and you suspect that they may have some a habit of employing covert ambassadors or agents in the Nidalese capital of Pangolais.[/ooc]
For lack of a better avenue of investigation, the party decides that a good first point of information gathering might be the Nidalese capital of Pangolais, deep in the heart of the Uskwood.
As undead and construct stumble out of Illia-'s portable hole, trees rustle quietly in the darkness. Trunks a hundred feet tall sprawl high above the party, leaves black and bark gray in the twilight thrown by their high and dense canopies.
In the distance, perhaps five hundred feet away, gleams—to those with perfect darkvision—one wall of Pangolais, white limestone stretching up and disappearing behind the trees, and a single twelve-foot, closed gate of the same stone at the end of a modest dirt road that passes near the party's location of arrival.
Inubrix makes no comment to break the silence.
Dris nods to his companions, and signs a message to Anaxian Scouting ahead?
"So, we wanna use the road? That'd probably slightly less conspicuous if we intend on just walking in." Illia- seems to miss the idea of being sneaky as Drisquar intends to be.
Illia, we are being watched. Somewhere in this vicinity. Anaxian said telepathically, giving Illia a mental nudge to point her truesight in the right direction.
Anaxian eyed the walls of the city and shared his thoughts with his allies.
The Shades of the Uskwood are an ancient druidic order that has flourished for millennia in the nation of Nidal. Like the nation's rulers and citizens, they serve Zon-Kuthon. Nidal is perhaps the most secretive nation in all of Avistan, if not Golarion. The Shades are more secretive still. Their numbers and locations are almost entirely unknown.
There is evidence that the druids of the Shades have, on various occasions, coordinated with the Umbral Court. I suspect that they may have some a habit of employing covert ambassadors or agents this city.
I suspect we are being watched. Probably from the walls, possibly from the forest as well. Letting them beleive we do not know this is wise. Drisquar, take a look around, but if you see anyone, do not acknowledge their presence.
Dris will lazy float/fly into the city, doing his best to seem like a natural cloud of hazy mist. He'll keep his 'eyes' open and be on alert for anything and everything.
Geog
religion
History
Perception
I'm familiar with the Uskwood by reputation. They're one of the few surface communities who Drow can openly trade with.
With her usual sauntering bravado Meridian floats leisurely down the main thoroughfare making no effort to conceal herself.
After looking the way Anaxian indicated for a moment, Illia- settled on fluttering near Meredian. Not too close, but within fireball formation.
Just beyond the wall, on supported ledges, forty white-cloaked archers sit, heavy crossbows at the ready. Leaning on a set of wooden benches, they seem tense, clearly ready to stand and fire at a single command.
Beyond the walls sprawl the streets of Pangolais, paved in similar white linestone to the walls. The trees around the city have been trimmed back to prevent easy passage over the walls, and the city itself sparkles in flashes of sunlight, though heavy clouds overhead render these brief and surprising.
As Meredian approaches, there is a distant and faint click—loud enough, perhaps, for some of the party to hear—and a small wooden hatch slides open in the stone. A long telescope peeks out, darting around for a few seconds before settling on Meridian, and immediately being withdrawn. As the small window closes, a larger one open, and a face peers out, ten feet above the ground and indistinguishable with shadows and distance.
”Princess of the darkness,” a voice calls out in Undercommon, unnaturally loud and resonant, ”I do not recognize your sigil. What business do you have in Pangolais?”
"We mean no Ill will. We come in friendship to set up trade agreements and share information. I come with no armies. Only myself and a small contingent. With whom do I speak? "
Inubrix, in blasé human guise, remains silent while listening to their exchange.
"Gatekeeper Trell," replies the voice. "I see no armies—but who or what do you represent, and how did you pass Visceroth's caverns from the Darklands unannounced?"
"I can teleport!" Illia- offers them cheerfully.
"We represent the thriving new settlement of Escara. I am Meredian, theurge and council member. Clearly we have means to be wherever we wish. However, we approach you openly and without subterfuge. Gatekeeper Trell, to be frank if I wished violence on you then it would already be upon you. I've no desire to stand in the road yelling. It's beneath me, but since we come unannounced and in peace I'll temporarily accept the indignity. Now, please allow us passage or find someone of sufficient authority to come and treat with us."
Telepathically to the group:
"Drow diplomacy; polite banter interweaved with thinly veiled threats and promises of reprisals should things devolve."
"Right," the Gatekeeper replies, "Just, as you must know, visitors aren't allowed in the city of Pangolais without a clear identity and stated business—and are required to leave when such business is done. And you'll need to hire a guide, for legal reasons—it'll cost at least ten pieces of gold a day. I haven't heard of this 'Escarra' house, but it doesn't raise any red flags, and I'll open these gates if you can agree to those terms."
"Right," the Gatekeeper replies, "Just, as you must know, visitors aren't allowed in the city of Pangolais without a clear identity and stated business—and are required to leave when such business is done. And you'll need to hire a guide, for legal reasons—it'll cost at least ten pieces of gold a day. I haven't heard of this 'Escarra' house, but it doesn't raise any red flags, and I'll open these gates if you can agree to those terms."
"I've provided the information and I accept the need for a guide as well as the cost. Where do I find such a guide?"
"Open the gates and we'll be on our way." Meredian demands somewhat testily.
Telepathically to the group:"We now have legitimate reason to be here. If we're sly we can go unmolested by the officials. I think we should legitimately set up a trade agreement, but as I'm sure you've guessed it's mostly cover to gather information in our true prize. "
Righto, sounds good!
While the rest of his companions are stuck at the gate, Dris slowly(as in his normal 230ft speed, lol) flies around the city, looking around for anything out of the ordinary or that might be of use.
Anaxian padded forward next to Meridian. An armored dragon was certainly going to be a rare sight, but he figured his undisguised self would add a certain majesty to Meridian's presence as a diplomat. He also didn't actually care enough about these people to be concerned with fooling them.
Anaxian padded forward next to Meridian. An armored dragon was certainly going to be a rare sight, but he figured his undisguised self would add a certain majesty to Meridian's presence as a diplomat. He also didn't actually care enough about these people to be concerned with fooling them.
Telepathically
"They venerate shadows here, so if you could make yourself appear shadow-y that could help. Like a half shadow dragon kind of thing. Your call. "
Anaxian's eyes flickered as a different aspect of his personality took hold. The purple glow died out and a black void welled up. The cracks between his scales became inky and empty, like the night sky was trying to show through his skin.
The gate guard nods in assent, and asks Meredian to wait. Eventually, the door opens, though it takes some minutes, giving the party plenty of time for grumbling and discussion.
Your guide, apparently, is another dark elf, though his face is heavily tattooed and he bears no insignia but the symbol of Zon-Kuthon, a skull with chains through its eyes. Arkaiosh, as he later introduces himself, is impressed to meet another drow—supposedly, "the only outsiders we don't immediately hate"—but far more impressed to meet a real live umbral dragon. After many assurances that the party does not simply serve Visceroth and the Shadow Caverns, Arkaiosh seems to remain impressed with the colorful visitors, and promises a more "colorful" tour, pun intended, than he would give to normal visitors.
As they pass under the walls of Pangolais, the party sees a hidden squad of archers perched above the gate—enough to cut down unsuspecting trespassers in a second, but unlikely to pose any sort of actual threat. While trees have been trimmed away from the wall, giving a brief sliver of half-light under a sky of rolling fog, the city proper is filled with trees just as tall. The Nidalese capital is a strange mockery of an elf city crossed with a drow one, as tree houses and sinester limestone structures are by walkways and rope ladders. The city's central buildings are ancient, and somewhat impressive, though nothing compared to those of Oppara or Absalom, as Arkaiosh points out the capitol, cathedral, and various other fortified structures supposedly predating the Age of Agony.
Meeting with anyone important in Pangolais is, of course, impossible for an outsider on any reasonable schedule, your guide assures you. There Triune meets only once a year, and speaking to anyone of importance before then would involve considerable influence and bribes—though if you're planning to enjoying your stay, there is a certain other enterprising drow who supposedly runs a highly-affordable travelers' inn with all the home comforts of Sekamina.
* * *
Drisquar sees nothing unusual or unexpected, but does manage to scout out the locations of most of the city's important buildings—making the party's use of a hired guide at this point mostly a legal formality.
Only half listening as the guide drones on Meredian converses with the group telepathically,
"What's our next step? "
If we're not too worried about their level of strength slash our ability to escape, I teleport, you aren't here, Anaxian can burrow, Drisquar is the wind... I could just start going around asking whereabouts of the person we're looking for. It'll attract attention from whoever knows, and when we get that attention, we either turn the tables on them if we've got the power, or leave if things go south.
As usual, Illia- comes up with a ... straightforward, shall we say, plan.
There is something to be said for the direct approach.
"These are potential allies. Perhaps just a touch of fitness may be in order. "
Well, if they wanna be allies with us, they won't deny us access to the information, and may be willing to trade once they know we want it.
Sense motive
Meredian visibly eyes the drow appraisingly.
"How's your entrepreneurial spirit? I'm sure you've gathered we aren't here for just trade agreements. What's the price of your loyalty? If it's mere gold then that's easy enough. Many can offer that. I, however, can offer power and prestige. Far more than a male will find in other drow conclaves. I'm modern like that. So, what's your hearts desire? "
"There are trade agreements," replies the guide, "And there are trade agreements. Nidal gives purpose, and the comforts of the surface world. It is, indeed, a better life 'for a male' than much of Sekamina—while the order of Zon-Kuthon can be oppresive, it is no worse than the order of an individual great house. Here the darkness has trees, and fresh air, although the luxuries of slaves and gemstones are harder to acquire."
"What do I want?" he continues, "Gold, prestige, the usual. Getting you into a room with someone who matters within a few days will require at least half a thousand gold pieces in bribes. Two thousand, and I can get you a meeting with a council member of your choice. I'd just be taking a small cut of that. There's nothing illegal about any of this; Nidal recognizes wealth, and power, and will pay attention to anyone important enough to throw around that sort of gift. You're lucky, as it is, that the gate guard was worried enough about your party to assign a guide of importance and influence."
[dice=Meredian's Diplomacy 1]1d20+15
[dice=Meredian's Diplomacy 2]1d20+15"There are trade agreements," replies the guide, "And there are trade agreements. Nidal gives purpose, and the comforts of the surface world. It is, indeed, a better life 'for a male' than much of Sekamina—while the order of Zon-Kuthon can be oppresive, it is no worse than the order of an individual great house. Here the darkness has trees, and fresh air, although the luxuries of slaves and gemstones are harder to acquire."
"What do I want?" he continues, "Gold, prestige, the usual. Getting you into a room with someone who matters within a few days will require at least half a thousand gold pieces in bribes. Two thousand, and I can get you a meeting with a council member of your choice. I'd just be taking a small cut of that. There's nothing illegal about any of this; Nidal recognizes wealth, and power, and will pay attention to anyone important enough to throw around that sort of gift. You're lucky, as it is, that the gate guard was worried enough about your party to assign a guide of importance and influence."
"Good to know. Perhaps you can have both. We'll need envoys and diplomats. "
Dris flies into the most important looking building he can find. He'll attempt to listen in on conversations to learn anything useful, be it blackmail material, plans they can exploit, or whatever else he can uncover.
The capitol building of Nidal is an impressive, white domed structure located in the center of Pangolais. But Drisquar, perceptive as ever, notices another, smaller building off to the side, far more fortified than anything else he's seen in the city, with small windows, arrow slots, and old stones bound with subtle magic. Flying through arrow holes and corridors, he finds his way into a maze of underground tunnels that eventually leads to a darkened room in which a circle of robed figures discuss something passionately in Shadowtongue...
...and then he sets off an Alarm spell on one of the corridors—and while he manages to remain, unseen, in the shadows of the room, the meeting is clearly adjourned, as the robed figures hurry out.
[/QUOTE
"But for now, which council member would be most advantageous toms trade agreement?"
Meredian asks as she produces the required platinum pieces and hands them over like its nothing.
"Make it happen."
"Oh, also see about upgrading our accommodations. "
"But for now, which council member would be most advantageous toms trade agreement?"
Meredian asks as she produces the required platinum pieces and hands them over like its nothing.
"Make it happen."
"Oh, also see about upgrading our accommodations. "
Cursing silently, Dris attempts to figure out which of the robbed figures might be the best to follow.
After a half a day and an exchange of various coins, Meredian and the party are escorted to the most stately suite of guest rooms in Pangolais’ Chelaxian embassy. ”It seems ‘Escarra’ is already a name known to a certain archfiend,” comments Arkaiosh, ”And a word was put in on your behalf with someone in the clergy. And I’ll be able to return a quarter of the money I asked for—shadow dragons are a rare and welcome sight in our quiet nation. Once you’ve settled in, Minister Naxas will meet with you in one of the basement staterooms.”
The room in question has, apparently, been warded against scrying in a number of ways, as it is a “neutral” space commonly used for international negotiations. Minister Naxas is a small, unsightly vampire, nearly indistinguishable beneath the heavy black-on-black robes of the Umbral Court. He introduces himself pleasantly enough, and after a few formalities, asks bluntly just what diplomats from a region of the Darklands so far away are doing in Pangolais.
Hey, seeing nobody else has come up with a plan, wanna go with mine?
Hey, seeing nobody else has come up with a plan, wanna go with mine?
"Let me talk to the council member first. Maybe they'll be able to point is in the right direction. "