All of you are called in to meet Venture Captain Ambrus Valsin in his office. As a clock chimes the hour, Ambrus Valsin opens the door to admit his guests then resumes his seat next to a grey-eyed woman wearing the robes of an academic. “Please seat yourselves quickly so we can begin. This is Lady Darchana Madinani, archdean of Absalom’s premier school of the arcane, the Arcanamirium. She has come to the Pathfinder Society on delicate business.”
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Truk pulls back a seat and then spins it around to straddle it in a decidedly informal fashion. The poor furniture groans on the big orc's weight. He nods briefly to the Venture Captain and the Archdean before grunting his own introduction. "Name's Truk - spelled with a 'K'"
Truk is obviously a half-orc but wears his orcish blood well. His tusks are small, dulled, and only slightly poke out from under his bottom lip and his ears are only mildly pointed. His skin is a greyish-olive that contrasts well with the cropped dark hair along the top of his head. He wears a short well-kept beard on his chin. What elements of his orcish parentage that are absent from his facial features are plainly visible elsewhere. He is tall, broad, and his massive frame muscled like a bull. Despite his somewhat bestial features and imposing stature, he possess the kind of muscular good looks some might find attractive.
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Standing in the corner is a man in a long black robe. His hood is pulled up, keeping his pale face mostly in shadow. He stands straight and holds an imposing scythe in one hand, expensive rings glittering from his fingers. "And my name is Khamul. Also spelled with a K. Former Blood Lord of Geb and exile of that foul country."
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A man with a wild shock of yellow hair and grimy face sits in immaculately clean plate armor. He seems to be bobbing his head to some unheard cosmic melody and staring off into the distance. It's not until a small page steps forward to kick the man in the shins does he look forward and start paying attention.
The boy, no more then 9 or 10, does his best to squeak out and explanation. "Pardon m'lord. Master Beltin is hard of hearing, but I assure you he is most excited to offer his talents as a healer and man of arms upon this endeavor." He kicks the man in the shins twice, who begins to grin broadly and introduce himself. "Ho! I, Beltin, am here once again: an echo in a chamber, an iron man, the earth my bride, my heart and mind collided..." The page kicks him again to interrupt his monologue. "...and I bring the metal!" He slaps himself on the chest, making his plate mail ring.
It's only then the Ulfen man sees Lady Darchana. Without missing a beat he smiles at the older professor. "Hey babe."
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Suddenly the office door is pushed open and a big, fluffy, saddled dog rushes into the room. He pauses only long enough to assess the situation before running up to Truk, tail wagging enthusiastically. A moment or two later, a small gnome hurries into the room, panting from exhaustion. "Oh dear, oh dear... Gregarious, leave him alone!" she exclaims. The big dog turns and wags his tail at her, then moves to the dwarf and begins licking her face.
The little gnome gives a sigh of exasperation and digs around in her pouch for a moment, pulling out what looks like a piece of dried fish. "Gregarious, out." commands the gnome. Gregarious whines, but stops greeting the dwarf and trots toward the door. Pausing, he glances back as if considering those he hasn't yet greeted, but the gnome's finger remains pointed out the door. After tossing the fish piece outside (and waiting for the dog to follow), the gnome closes the door and turns to the group. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaims. "He just gets so excited, you know, and, well, he wants to say hello to everyone... not like Jadrek, no siree, now he's shy. Oh, I'm Zirt by the way! Zirt's not my real name, of course, but most people can't pronounce my real name, so I just go by Zirt. Well, except with my parents... it'd be silly for them to call me Zirt, 'cause they can pronounce my real name!"
Once everyone, including the tardy nome arrives, Lady Darchana begins the briefing, rolling her eyes at Beltin.
“As Second Spell Lord of Absalom, I continually investigate magical attempts to attack our home. The Pathfider Society recently aided one of my investigations by capturing a disguised Okeno slave ship used for several months to transport various unfortunates to Absalom for sale as slaves to the city’s noble families. Normally this would be legal, yet it seems someone has marked each of these slaves for use as divination foci. I can’t ignore the threat posed by such an insidious spy network. With the capture of that ship, we’re now in an excellent position to strike back at the hidden mastermind behind the slave-scrying. Know that I do not come to the Pathfinder Society lightly. I am taking on a calculated political risk by asking you to handle this investigation for me. But my long friendship with your master of spells Aram Zey has given me confidence in the abilities—and discretion—of Pathfinder agents.Using my own spells, I acquired an image of the slaver: a humanoid woman wearing a heavy veil and peering into a mirror. Her clothing is common in Kelish fashion, and I could sense her location was somewhere underground on Stonespine Island. Although we could pursue conventional means of tracking down the slavers, I have taken measures to ensure our quarry does not see you coming, and I would appreciate a similar effort from you. I propose disguising yourselves either as slaves for sale or possibly the slavers selling them. If successful, you need only allow our enemy’s agents to escort you to their hidden stronghold. Once inside, it should be a modest challenge for you to escape and take their leader by surprise.” Lady Darchana pauses for emphasis. “Your goals are to capture the veiled spymaster and to bring the scrying mirror I observed back to Absalom for further study. If the spymaster dies before she is brought here, that would be regrettable but also understandable."
“Before you get too concerned,” Ambrus adds quickly, “it isn’t the Society’s practice to sell our field agents into slavery. We’re sending you with a reliable cover story and a magical edge we can discuss in a moment. This isn’t just because it’s a dangerous assignment; we also found the name ‘Muhlia’ associated with the captured Okeno ship. It’s not a common name, but if you haven’t kept up with recent history, I can understand why you may not remember her. Pasha Muhlia al’Jakri was an associate of ours who represented Qadira’s interests to the Pathfinder Society. Three years ago, she departed following very ugly circumstances in Taldor and hasn’t been seen since. If it’s true that she’s building a spy network in Absalom, we need to head off the threat she poses to the society before she can strike. Any questions?”
Ambrus blinks at the nome's question. "Hmm...I suppose selling beasts of burden along with slaves is not out of the question."
"I would advise that you do not engage her if possible. She is skilled in deception and ambushes. As far as the canine goes, the same reasoning can be applied as it does to the ursine."
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Truk greets each Pathfinder with a grunt and nod but chuckles when Gregarious comes galumphing in eager for attention. He ruffles the big dog’s shaggy head fur in appreciation before Zirt orders him out. He returns his attention to the Venture Captain’s briefing once all expected parties are assembled.
He frowns at the notion of posing as a slave but it wasn’t the worst thing the Society had asked him to do. ”So, uh, you got someone good at wordplay and acting comin’ along? People say I’ve got a crummy poker face.”
Ambrus Valsin excitedly rubs his hands together as a proud grin cracks his business like expression at Zirt's question."I thought you'd never ask. I’ve brought one of our experiments out of development for a field test,” he explains while planting a boot on an unremarkable cedar chest. “This is a magic chest warded in much the same way as our craft people sometimes enchant small pouches. From the outside, it’s nonmagical and holds whatever you put in it as expected. However, if you speak the right command word before it’s opened, it instead accesses a secret, extradimensional space that can hold several hundred pounds of gear. It’s yours to use on this trip and should help smuggle most of your gear through Okeno. The forged paperwork we’re sending with you notes the chest is part of the shipment.” Valsin demonstrates the chest’s use and command word. “Anything else you want to bring needs to be something you can hide on your person and keep hidden.” Lady Darchana nods her approval and adds, “I can also shrink one essential tool or weapon for each of you. It should provide you enough of an edge in breaking out and recovering the rest of your gear.”
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"Oooooooooh," exclaims Zirt, studying the chest and watching the demonstration raptly. "Snigglewort!" she exclaims, before quickly reaching out to open the chest and squeak in wonder as the secret compartment is revealed. She closes the chest and re-opens it quickly, giving a big grin as it appears to be an ordinary chest. After a few tries, she looks around. "How do we make sure they don't try to separate us from the chest?" she asks. "Dear me, only one tool... that'll be a hard decision! That's like when my uncle told Vlokritnirmzrrl that he had to go into the mine without his toothbrush or a chicken!" She pauses and lets out a short sigh, shaking her head sadly. "Poor Vlokritnirmzrrl..."
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Truk eyes his companions for this task appraisingly. ”I could be a guard alright but most of you lot would make pretty lousy slaves - no offense. Khamul you should probably be our owner, you look the part, but Zirty here’s the fast-talker. Hmm. Maybe you two could be partners? Beltin and I would be your wares. I’m not sure what that makes Enora.”
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"I would like to keep my pouch for my components. I would hate to be unable to cast spells."
Truk eyes his companions for this task appraisingly. ”I could be a guard alright but most of you lot would make pretty lousy slaves - no offense. Khamul you should probably be our owner, you look the part, but Zirty here’s the fast-talker. Hmm. Maybe you two could be partners? Beltin and I would be your wares. I’m not sure what that makes Enora.”
"I could play that part if you think it suits me better."
"Any other questions?"
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"Hey little one, if you're keen on freeing all of 'em that's pretty righteous, but I think it's like a whole market or camp full. Gonna be hard." He pats the gnome on her on the head. "But maybe we can find a way to stir up some trouble." He gazes into his sword. "So the says... the Metal." He pauses for a second, and looks towards Lady Darcha. "After sneaking in all proper like."
"Hey speaking of sneaking, could you like say a few righteous words about Stonespire islands. Is that where the Okeno pirates make their base? Or, like the Qadiran slave traders?"
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Zirt frowns up at the condescending man. "It doesn't have anything to do with righteousness, Mister... what's your name? I just don't think it's very nice to keep people all chained up and make them work, that's all. Besides, how are they going to tell me all the stories they know if they're slaves?!"
"I think that may be out of your ability here. But if you free a few on the way, it is good PR. The Stonespire island is home to a large tribe of gnolls who will most likely be your purchasers."
Major Colson Maldris approaches you as you leave the briefing. “I have heard about your participation in Darchana’s plan, and I’m proud to know that you’re involved. Daring acts like these strike terror in the hearts of slavers and give hope to the subjugated. I know you’re unlikely to have—or leave—many witnesses, but if you can strike fear into the hearts of this villainous operation’s leadership, strike down the more dangerous and oppressive slavers in a dramatic way, or just be seen battling in the defense of the oppressed, we can share your exploits and inspire a new wave of freedom fighters.” He considers his advice for a moment and adds, “But don’t throw your life away trying to burn Okeno to the ground. Pick your fights carefully, and return a hero.”
As Colson puts down a bundle of maps he had been carrying to salute you, Zirt notices that maps seem to be of Cheliax.
"Even more daring missions are in the works, but you should focus on the task at hand."
If you plan to pose as slaves you need to remove or hide you gear and don cheap tunics or loincloths. To complete the outfit, you must also don a slave collar, a metal band outfitted with a keyed lock. The collars must remain strong enough to pass casual inspection, but you can attempt to rig a collar when to open without needing tools or keys as a full-round action; this is a Disable Device check when you attempt to when place the collar. If you plan to pose as slavers, you should take care to hide symbols of any organizations with a reputation for freeing slaves, such as holy symbols of Cayden Cailean or the Sword and Eagle of Andoran.
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Truk unbuckles his heavy armor armor and drops it along with his boulder helmet and general pack in the hidden section of the magical chest. Next he strips down to a loincloth and dumps the remainder of his mundane gear in the non-hidden upper compartment. Once that's done the big mostly naked orc takes a seat and wakes for Zirt to handle his makeup.
Colson puts his finger to his lips and takes his leave.
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Zirt watches quietly, nodding every now and again in approval as Truk offloads his gear. When he sits down, she moves over to him and climbs up on a table to do his makeup. She starts by adding a bit of dirty stubble to his face and chin, to make it look like he hasn't bathed in some time. After that she adds a few bruises here and there, then has him turn around and works some rouge into the form of a few big long welts on his back. "There, I think that'll do!" she pronounces, standing up on the table to view him from a distance. "Be careful about rubbing it off... I've tried to make it as durable as possible, of course, but don't go scrubbing your back with cowmortine salve."
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Beltin strips to loincloths and collar and whistles cheerily as he pulls out a few metal tools and fiddles with the locks on his and Truks collars.
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The tune is about half an octave flat, but the work is solid.
He tries to hide his shrunken sword as part of the collar decorations, and tools for others in a similar manner. He grunts with nods of approval at Zirts work and gives a strange sign towards her, one with index finger and pinky extended and other fingers curled.