Might as well get this out here, even though the game probably won't start for a few days.
The invitation delivered to each of you last night was remarkably simple--terse, even--especially given the importance of the occasion: "Start where it all began. Meet us at the Pig's Paunch one hour before dawn, ready to travel."
The Pig's Paunch is a rather run-down building in the Merchant's Quarter of Absalom, marked only by a faded sign showing a large pig standing on its hind legs, arms folded above a corpulent belly. Inside, it smells like a dive--the air is thick with the scents of human sweat, stale tobacco smoke, and leftover food. In the center of the room, surrounded by inebriates sleeping off their revelries, a familiar elven man stands on top of a large round table.
"Welcome! Welcome, my students! Please, have a seat!" With that, Kreighton Shane, the Pathfinder Society's Master of Scrolls, nimbly drops down to sit cross-legged on the table before looking about the tavern with a sense of reverent wonder that seems out of place, considering the surroundings. "Can you believe it? It all started here years ago--well, over four hundred of them at least. Yes! Under this very roof the Pathfinder Society was born.
"But today! Today you will begin your Confirmation! Master Farabellus, Master Zey, and I all agree you each have shown your worth and dedication to the Society, so there’s no better time to see if you can handle becoming full field operatives. Allow me to introduce you to Janira Gavix." He motions for an excitable halfling woman to approach. She wears a large backpack and carries all manner of tools, pouches, and scroll cases around her waist. Shaine continues. "Janira here will be going with you on your Confirmation. She was one of my brightest pupils, and will no doubt be an invaluable resource on your journey, for she discovered the caves you are about to explore during her own Confirmation."
Janira speaks up in an enthusiastic and cheerful voice, "Greetings, aspiring Pathfinders! Six months ago, while I was mapping cave entrances in the foothills of the Kortos Mounts, I witnessed a lone gillman entering a concealed cave. I thought little of it at the time, but I saw another one enter the cave again a month later as my Confirmation stretched on. A few days later, after I completed my assigned task, I entered the cave system, but was unable to find the gillmen."
Master Shaine hops to his feet. "Initiates, for your Confirmation, you will travel to these caves to explore and document its many passages. Additionally, and most importantly, you are to learn what the gillmen are up to in there. Oh, and you need to come back alive as well." With these parting words, the Master of Scrolls jumps off the table and strolls out of the building while humming to himself, as Janira turns her attention to your group, waiting for any questions.
"Some neat carvings--I didn't get too far into the caves, because I was in a hurry to get back to the Lodge."
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A thin figure hurries through the front door, an unnaturally-steady light winking out as he steps from the dark of pre-dawn into the Pig’s Paunch’s torch light. He’s a young man, sixteen years at best. An unruly mop of dark hair hangs down over his dark brown eyes, and when he brushes it aside, the sleeve of his worn, faded, hand-me-down Korvosan long-coat falls up his forearm to reveal a well-crafted, glittering tattoo of a dragon coiling up his forearm, around his wrist, and roaring onto the back of his hand. A quick glance catches hints of similar tattoos decorating other exposed bits of his pale skin.
He hurries to a table, moving with the alacrity and eagerness of youth, and plops down, his backpack hitting the floor a second later as he looks everyone over. Then he looks up at Master Shane and presents his own Confirmation invitation.
”Simon Zoraelius, sir,” he seems slightly out-of-breath, “sorry if I’m late.”
He listens to the briefing with an intense focus. You can see his sharp eyes noting every detail of their mission, but when mention of the Pigs Paunch being the birthplace of the Society, his young face scrunches up in a mix of confusion and suspicion. ”Um, wait.” He looks over at Janira briefly, a look of recognition and questioning. ”A few weeks back I ran into Miss Janira over at the Wounded Wisp,” he waves to her without stopping his sentence, ” … I thought that was the birthplace of the Society?” He seems to be trying to decide if he’s the butt of some kind of initiation joke.
Otherwise, he listens to the remainder of Janira’s briefing with the same intelligent concentration. He frowns at the mention of the caves, nods at the idea of meeting gillmen, and then smiles a bit at Shaine’s parting remark about surviving.
"So we are to map some caves and find out what the Gillmen are up to? Why don't we just ask when they enter? It might be sacred ground to them, who are we to disturb them?"
”’Cause then we’re just taking their word for it. What if this place has only been seen by gillmen for who knows how long … don’t you want to see it for yourself?” He’s practically bouncing in his seat at this point, ”We could be the first. I mean, who knows what’s in there?”
He looks back at Janira, and he begins lobbing questions at her in rapid fire. ”So how long of a trip is it out there? Are we walking? Do we need anything special for the trip? Any special equipment? What’s it like out that way? What are the caves like? Ooh, what are the carvings like? Do they look like drawings? Or like writing? Or both? Ya know, some times languages can look like pictures … or vise versa. What language to gillmen speak? Are they aggressive?”
He takes a breath and looks the group over again, his dark eyes lingering on Xukong and Lo’Rai . Then he introduces himself once again … apparently forgetting he’d just done it a few minute ago.
”I’m Simon.”
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"Whoah! You sound like my cousins, they are also always asking questing and babbling on. I am Yarricki" she extends her gnomish hand and relaxes a bit.
"Oh, I can understand the miracle of seeing new sights. But I also think we should be considerate towards other humanoids and not barge in. Trying to understand one another goes a long way in achieving a good relation and that starts by not barging in on places that have special meaning."
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The half-orc warrior at the table looks a little distracted. She is somewhat striking, with facial tattoos and tusks somehow adding to her looks, but is clearly also good at striking with the many weapons strapped to her.
"Third assignment for me, Simon," she says quietly and somewhat conspiratorily, "They shoved me into active duty and I might have neglected to fill out a form or two. Anyhow, better late than never."
She focuses on Janira. "Janira, gillmen would be in a place full of water, wouldn't they? Do we need anything for flooded areas?"
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”Babbling?!” Simon scoffs, ”Those were good questions. Forewarned is forearmed and all that.”
He listens to Yarricki’s other thoughts, ”Oh, sure, sure. But you’re also making a few assumptions. Is it their cave? Are they even the kind of Gillmen the Society would want good relations with? Is the cave used for something we’d think was good?” He shrugs, ”I’m just saying we don’t know what we don’t know. And the answers likely lie inside the cave.”
"Third assignment for me, Simon," she says quietly and somewhat conspiratorily, "They shoved me into active duty and I might have neglected to fill out a form or two. Anyhow, better late than never."
Simon holds his hands up, surrendering to her superior experience. ”I barely got on the invite for the last gig, anyway. Dreng wanted us to go get him something to drink … but you know Dreng …”
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”Oh, sure, sure. But you’re also making a few assumptions. Is it their cave? Are they even the kind of Gillmen the Society would want good relations with? Is the cave used for something we’d think was good?” He shrugs, ”I’m just saying we don’t know what we don’t know. And the answers likely lie inside the cave.”
"All I am saying is that we might want to start by asking them. If they are friendly we have not intruded into their domain, if that is what the cave is. If they are not friendly we know that we should be careful in the caves."
She scratches Buzz between the antennae "but this assignment is my first, so what do I know"
bzzzz
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With a stumble and clutter of fallen books and scrolls, Lo'Rai falls into the room, trying in vain to gather her stuff before being noticed. Yeah, like that'll happen.
"Sorry I'm late...fell asleep at my desk..." Lo'Rai takes her place at the table, listening to the introduction and explanation of their mission.
"Sounds fairly straightforward. I'm Lo'Rai, scribe and scholar. Pleased to meet you all."
Gathering her things yet again, Lo stands, ready to begin her adventure.
Janira shrugs at the question about the Wounded Wisp. "Master Shane is old enough that he might have been there. For all I know this is where someone got the idea of the Society, and the Wisp is where they formalized it." She grins. "Anyway, that's not important now. You have a lot of excellent questions! I like the idea of trying to talk to the gillmen--let's see if we can get there in time to catch one before they go into the cave. It's weird that they'd be here, you know. Their only permanent surface settlement anywhere near here is in Escadar, off the north side of Kortos. There's not a lot of water near this cave, and gillmen need to be in water pretty often or they'll dry out and die.
"Now, as to what you should bring. Rope is a good idea, something to use for light--Ishingka and Lo'Rai, you won't need that, but being able to make fire is useful. Something like alchemist's fire in case we get attacked by swarms. Food, of course!
"We should get on the road soon. But first, let's get to know each other a little bit. After all, we'll have to rely on each other--and cooperating is one of our three duties as Pathfinders! I'll go first."
She gathers her thoughts and pulls out a large leather-bound journal, opening it and putting on the table in front of her before continuing. "You heard my name already. I joined the Society four years after I came of age. I'm the oldest of my brothers and sisters. I love the history of the Society, and I have lots of useful stories to tell about it if you care to listen. I'm pretty good with a whip, too." She looks up expectantly at the rest of you, pen in hand.
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"I am Yaricki, I grew up in Liberthane in the Riverlands up north. It was there that I saw what a difference it made how one stands in the world. If you approach people with an open heart most will react that way. One day when I was minding my own business some human louts sought to bully me by disturbing a giant wasp hive. The wasps came out angrily and I just stood there.
Instead of running or fighting I tried to remain calm and peaceful, although my heart was beating quite fast. The wasps must have noticed, since they approached me but did not sting. One of the smaller ones even follows me until this day. I have been trying to teach him some tricks, but I have found out that vermin aren't as easily trained as an animal. It is my dream of one day riding him."
her eyes wander of and she seems lost in a vision of a future where she is a shining knight riding a giant wasp...
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Simon sits back in his seat as the conversation switches to more in-depth introductions. He listens to Janira, then the gnome. He watches the strange wasp intently, obviously curious about such a rare creature.
When Yarricki finishes, the young man speaks up again. ”Maybe. I don’t think that would have worked as well where I grew up.” When you look over, there’s now a fiery red-and-yellow cat sitting on the table in front of him, staring at you all with defiant green eyes. ”Korvosa. Old Korvosa, actually, if that means anything to you. Grew up mostly there and in the Shingles. *Máthair saw that I had a mind for magic …” he picks up his own pen and mutters a strange word, and the pen flares to life with a ghostly, unnatural light, “… and tried to get me in at one of the universities. I think she just didn’t know what to do with me once I’d read all her books. Apparently, though, Korvosan arcane schools don’t want anything to do with the fatherless sons of Varisian tattooists.” He shrugs matter-of-factly, ”So she did a few favors and got me introduced to a guy who knew a guy who knew Miss Dralneen.” He grins widely, ”Now there’s a woman who recognizes talent.” His dark eyes cut over at Janira consideringly for just a few moments at that last statement, but whatever he’s thinking, he switches back to his own story, ”So I’ve spent the last few months down in the Archives.”
His eyes light up, and he looks over at Lo’Rai. ”Have you seen the new expanded section for reclaimed translations on ancient civilization manuscripts? Amazing stuff.”
He seems to remember the cat, ”Oh yah … this is Temperbrand. Fair warning. Don’t pet him. He doesn’t realize he’s just a cat.”
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Lo looks up from her own scroll of notes when Simon looks to her. "I haven't yet, but I am looking forward to it. Apparently there's notes in the margins from a higher ranking scholar. Can you confirm this?"
"My name is Lo'Rai Sheredon. I was born and raised here in Absolom by my father, an orc that went by the name of Hefty. He was a worker in the construction business until an accident put him on bedrest for too long. I took up the mantle of house worker, when we found I had a knack for reading magic scrolls. Instantly my father put me up as an apprentice for a librarian, and a few years later, I found myself working with the Archive in their Mundane Magic Scrolls wing. It's a living."
Seeing the cat appear from nowhere, Lo'Rai is fascinated. "Where did you come from?"
Noting the whispy look of the hair and the fact that the cat's skin is the same color as the tattoo on Simon (that is no longer there) Lo proclaims "You're a Tattoo Familiar, aren't you?"
She looks to Simon. "I've heard of Tattoo Sorcerers before, but never met one. How does your innate magic manifest into something physical without breaking the metamagical field? Can you apply a tattoo to another person and have them be able to cast it?" Lo'Rai pulls out another scroll, this one with notes on it and sketches regarding magical applications to uncommon magical effects.
She's pretty much forgotten the reason she came here and almost ignores the rest of the team as they speak.
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"I haven't yet, but I am looking forward to it. Apparently there's notes in the margins from a higher ranking scholar. Can you confirm this?"
Simon grins eagerly, ”Not ‘scholar’ … scholars. Veingstin. Lornuk. Gelbintottle. Just depends on the manuscript.” Simon takes on an exaggerated and painful “lady’s man” smile as he leans back in his chair, ”I could show you some time, if you’d like.”
When Lo’Rai addresses Temperbrand, the fire-pelted cat looks sideways at her. He’s clearly deciding if she’s friend or food. Simon, however, is pleasantly surprised by her astuteness, and thrilled to have a contemporary worth her intellectual salt.
”He is. And my grandparents had the gift,” he looks down and pulls back his sleeves, revealing surprising myriad of tattoos of all shapes, styles, and colors. ”But I’m still kind of figuring it all out. I think the blood in my skin acts as a conduit through which Temperbrand can make the metaphysical jump. The trick, unless I’m massively mistaken, is that he’s actually both magic tattoo and physical creature at the same time … all the time.” He shrugs, ”And I have’t figured out spell tattoo transferrance.” His eager grin returns, ”I will, though.”
He looks back at Janira, ”Maybe you could help me. I looked you up after I saw you at the Wisp. I don’t forget much, and I’d read your name before. Your Kortos Hills Recordings … from your Confirmation. It’s good stuff. Well-written. Objective. Thorough. And I’m not the only one who thought so. Zarta Dralneen was asking after your work. Wanting to reconcile your observations against some of the undergraduate work of some muckity-muck nobody from the Acadamae back home. I think you could run circles around that guy, and I’m sure she’d like hear your thoughts.”
He leans forward, ”Should I set up an introduction?”
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Ishingka raises an eyebrow at the druid and wasp, but has seen odder things, and recognizes the tactical value of something flying and attacking. Simon she has heard of thanks to a Mwangi friend, and so she nods, trying not to smirk. When Lo'Rai speaks, an expectant light comes to her face.
"Lo'Rai, I've heard of your da'," says Ishingka with a smile to the other half-orc. "Haven't met him, but I recall my parents assisting in a collection for the family at one point. The community is small, but just large enough for us to not have met, I reckon."
She turns to the group and Janira. "I've been in Absalom, among other places; my mum and dad have been performing for those posh folks in the Petal District after retiring from their own days of hacking and slashing. Grew up citified, me, although it appears someone in my ancestry did some meddling with demons, and that bit got into my veins. I was approached by cultists as a kid about it; my family and I turned them down, first politely and then...not so politely." She makes a point of studying her nails for a moment with a quiet, toothy grin.
"Anyhow, like Simon, I have some magic in my blood, but it's a different type--wilder, more like those nutter Shoanti with their klars and bad tempers, not that my ancestors in Belkzen were any better, angijak all of them. I haven't bothered to figure it out like you two book gnawers. It just flows." Her grin widens, showing more of those tusks. "Good to have you, Lo'Rai--finally, a cousin on these mad runs. And Janira, I'll see you on the field with a whip as well. Damned good advice to have alchemist's fire, if I may say so. I like your leadership already, ma'am. Ready to follow you into battle." She snaps her boots together in a semblance of a military salute and then winks.
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Xukong keeps a noticeable physical distance to the others, and appears to have been most interested in the wasp.
"I am Xukong. I did not join the Society to define myself by where I come from - I consider that to be incidental - but by where I am, and what I am, now and henceforth. I am the edge of a blade. I am the angles of this building. I am the last breath of the dying. I am the sixth avenue of perception. I am might and magic. I am the logical conclusion."
Janira looks across the party, her expression changing from amusement to quickly-concealed bewilderment, and ending in expectation as she looks to the cavalier. "How about you?"
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Her eyes seem to grow bigger as they grow wider () in joy at the suggestion of seeing a book with information from generations ago. "I'd love to!" And then she realizes there are, in fact, other people in the room with agendas other than bookkeeping.
Regaining her composure, Lo'Rai addresses the group. "So then, we have a few up-front martial fighters, a couple of spell casters of varying ability, and a large....bug....for....something....sorry, I don't normally think of insects as allies."
"I suggest we reconvene at a later time to make for our escapade. Perhaps stock up on some supplies and gear."
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Simon takes on a curious look at Ishingka’s introduction—a considering look—and smiles at her description of Shoanti as well as his own ‘academic’ power.
As Xukong introduces himself, Simon watches intently, mentally filing away the little details of the strange man’s mannerisms and speech patters. When Yukon finishes, Simon leans over to Ishingka, pointing at the strange, masked bladesman and whispering quietly behind his other upheld hand.
”I want one.”
Her eyes seem to grow bigger as they grow wider () in joy at the suggestion of seeing a book with information from generations ago. "I'd love to!" And then she realizes there are, in fact, other people in the room with agendas other than bookkeeping.
There is the briefest (but unmistakable) moment of surprise at Lo’Rai’s response, but Simon tries to cover it quickly. ”Great!” He looks around the table, imprinting the moment in his memory, then looks back at her. ”So after we beat our Confirmation, we’ll celebrate down in the Archives.”
He looks back at the team, ”So, a round of ales to celebrate our upcoming success?” He shrugs, ”It’s what they do in all the stories, right?” He points towards Xukong with a smile, "... and a straw."
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”So, a round of ales to celebrate our upcoming success?” He shrugs, ”It’s what they do in all the stories, right?” He points towards Xukong with a smile, "... and a straw."
"Let's celebrate after we have something to celebrate, not before."
Yarricki looks at the other "So, are we ready? Lets head out"
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Ishingka saunters around the bazaar with the other shoppers and gets:
1 more CLW potion
1 Enlarge Person potion
2 alchemist's fire flasks
1 bedroll
3 days of rations
1 50' silk rope
1 masterwork backpack to throw all that stuff in
She agrees to hold Simon's bedroll, rations and tattooing kit, eyeing the last one with interest. "These are the marks of Sinashakti, blessed be our empyreal lord of happiness," she says with a beatific grin, indicating the symbols that trace around one eye and half her face, heading down her muscled neck and disappearing into her armor. "There's a Vudrani by way of Magnimar in the Ivy District, does lovely work, not here in the Coins. I got these not long after learning of my blood power. Not exactly Varisian type tattoos, as you can see."
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”Thanks,” Simon responds thankfully, rubbing his thin shoulders, which had grown quickly fatigued trailing Ishingka across the bazaar for what seemed forever. Oh, sure, he thinks sarcastically to himself, just test the pack’s weight. It’s the smart thing to do. Who the hells knew traveling stuff could weigh so much?!
Simon looks at her tattoos with a discerning eye .. paying as much attention to the line quality and pigment-mix against the woman’s dark skin as much as he does to the shapes. ”It’s good work. As good as Máthair could do. Not that I’d tell her as much.” He resettles his newly-lightened pack, rolling his shoulders at the newfound freedom. ”Ya know, if you’re interested, I could build on what you have. I’ve never had the opportunity to build onto a Vudrani foundation on skin like yours.” His grin is genuine. ”For the opportunity, I’d cut you a pretty good deal.”
Simon recalls quite a bit about gillmen--they're sometimes called the Low Azlanti, an amphibious humanoid race believed to be the last descendants of the Azlanti people. When the Starstone struck Golarion at Earthfall, the empires of Azlant and Thassilon were destroyed, but the ancestors of the gillmen supposedly received the blessing of an aquatic entity that changed them. Most scholars believe that the terrifying aboleths were responsible, but the gillmen are no longer openly associated with aboleths.
The Kortos Mounts are the highest points on the Isle of Kortos.
Once you're back with your purchases (for some reason, stores that cater to the adventuring trade tend to be open at all hours), Janira rubs her hands together in anticipation and grins eagerly. "On to the details of the mission at hand! After reviewing my mission reports personally, Master Shaine believes it is no coincidence that each time they entered the caves it was during a full moon, so it is also no coincidence that you have been called here now, just a day before the moon is full again. We both believe that tomorrow night is our best chance to find out why these caves are important and what exactly the gillmen are doing in there.
"The caves we’ll be travelling to lie under the base of the Kortos Mounts. We’ll need to spend every minute of daylight possible to reach the caves by foot, crossing over the Cairnlands, taking the paths to Diobel, and finally making our way through the wilderness. With any luck we won’t run into any of the local inhabitants, and will get there in time to talk to a gillman before they enter the cave. If we're too late and have to enter the caves ourselves, we’ll need to work together to explore and determine whether any gillman are present or have been recently. Keep an eye out for any other clues that might hint at the caves’ significance, too."
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"No time to waste, then," says Ishingka with a smile. "I do wonder how the gillmen get to these caves...underground rivers? Hopefully ones not filled with filth fever; had enough of that. Let's hope their privies are separate from their living rooms, in true Azlanti fashion." She gives her backpack straps a pat or two and looks ready to stride directly into the Cairnlands, or Hell, or whatever is in front of her.