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The elf you remember from your first mission happens by around this time, carrying a plate of various delicacies. "One does not generally expect mayhem at the Venture-Captain's extravaganza--at least, not more than a split lip or a hangover. Besides, wizards and even sorcerers are not unarmed even when we carry no weapons. Yes, Vastri, you may have some meat." He rolls up a bit of steak tartare and holds it up for his raven to eat.
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...and THEN I picked up the big lug and slammed him into the dirt and just like that the match was over. It was a helluva day, I'll tell ya! Like Arjunta, Zoltan showed up in armor but somehow anything else would seem out of place. Not that the gladiator fit in at the function in the slightest. Nevertheless, he had a gathering listening his stories, perhaps more out of novelty than anything else. Zoltan raised his large mug of plum wine and added, here's to tough victories and the spoils that come after. Let's drink! He procedes to throw back the full mug and, looking slightly inebriated, looked around for a refill.
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"Ah yes now... Cayden would want us all to attend something like this! Good reward for work done, and a good chance to find where our wanderings should take us next."
Brother Felinros is as boisterous as the mood allows and works hard to make sure all are enjoying themselves. He has a bottle of his own to share, and drinks liberally from the cup that doubles as his holy symbol.
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"Well, it is a plausible assumption Arjunta, even if it isn't true Tian Xia craft. The arrangement of the metal plates hints of Tien design, although I'm not familiar enough with the region to understand any other significance outside of protection."
Turning to the soon to be inebriated priest, "Heh, slow down Felinros; you should take your time and try some of these unique offerings tonight. The plum wine is well worth it."
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Arjunta and Zoltan you seem to be snobbed on many of your interactions at the party. The antendee's just scoff at your appearance and you notice several pointing and whispering amongst themselves.
Shinkeer you are congratulated for getting the spirit of the party and you seem to be the center of attention.
After spending several minutes enjoying the party you are invited to the private study of the illustrious Tien diplomat and pathfinder Amara Li. Arriving in the study you find her seated on a reed mat before a low table set with an exquisite porcelain tea set, that appears to tell the story of a man and woman. She motions for you to sit with her around the table, and once the door is closed behind you and you are seated, she begins talking in a low, hushed voice without even a hint of a Tian accent.
“Well met, Pathfinders, and welcome to the Lantern Lodge. I hope you find the Snapdragon Festival and my hospitality worthy of your time and energy. I have not brought you here for mere pleasantries, however, and wish to ask you to partake a dangerous mission on my behalf.
“Long ago, one of my most esteemed ancestors, who was rich in power but poor in sense, gave a gift to a foreign prince, a gift that prince did not deserve and my foolish ancestor had no right to give—a ceremonial jade katana. At the time the gift was sent, its recipient was invading this island. He laid siege to Absalom from his fortress in the foothills of the Kortos Mounts. Like those who came before him, the warlord failed to take Absalom and perished in the attempt. On the very day of his defeat, his castle crumbled to dust in a violent earthquake and has been lost to the centuries ever since. My family’s heirloom was lost with it.
“A recent report by a group of Pathfinders gives me hope that they have finally found the ruin, and I might finally recover my family’s treasure. I’m looking for an intrepid group to retrieve it for me, and I’m hoping that is you. The fame and wealth you will doubtlessly recover will bring you much honor within the Society, and if you deliver the katana to me, you will have my favor as you begin your careers as full agents of the Pathfinder Society.”
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Zoltan stumbled into the meeting, having been gently escorted into the room by Felinros. The man looked mad. Bunch o' stuffy, sons-o'-..., he trailed off as he realized he was low on plum wine. Frowning down into the cup as the group gathered to meet Amara Li, the gladiator looked up in time to hear "fame and wealth". What? Uh, yeah, what the Shoanti said. Just tell me where!
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The retrieval of the katana is a personal favor for me. She gives you directions to the ruined keep and advises them to enjoy themselves at the Snapdragon Festival, rest for the night, and venture forth to the Cairnlands tomorrow.
While you mingle and enjoy the celebration at Amara Li's Lantern Lodge, several other guests approach you the first is decked out in the military fineries of an Eagle Knight's ceremonial uniform-a bright blue overcoat with polished gold buttons, gold eagle epaulets, and a fine, black felt tricorn hat. The handsome man is a charmer who clearly thinks very highly of himself. He speaks loudly and confidently, as if he wants the entire party to overhear the conversation with you.
“Greetings, Pathfinders! I hear you’re headed out into the Cairnlands on official Society business. Best of luck outside the city walls, though you look like sturdy enough adventurers. Perhaps not Eagle Knight material, but qualified for the work of a Pathfinder.
“A word of warning, though, friends—beware the walking dead. The crumbling ruins surrounding the city are rife with them, and you’re likely to run into more than your fair share over the course of your career. Undeath and the undead are more than just a physical peril, however. Undeath is the worst kind of slavery. And it should be eradicated like all servitude, whether to aristocracy or to mental control. Being enslaved to the flesh beyond when Pharasma calls one’s soul to the Boneyard is a fate I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemy. So while you plumb the depths of Asad’s Keep, remember your solemn duty to your fellow man—both living and dead. Any undead you encounter along the way should be freed of their earthly shell.
“If you prove your dedication to freedom, the resources of Andoran will be at your disposal in your future endeavors.”
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Zoltan snorts and swallows a large swig of plum wine, then laughs hearily at the Andoran's words. Har! That's a good one! "walking dead", my arse. What else is gonna happen? The ghost of ol' Groeti gonna pop out from behind a bush and scare us to death too? The gladiator straightens his arms out before him and proceeds to do as slow, shuffling walk towards Matthias with a slack jaw and (more the usual) vacant expression. In a monotone voice he says, I am the walking dead, Fancy Pants, I'm coming to eat you! Breaking out of the act he laughs again, walks over the the Andoran and pats him on the back. Looks like your Eagle Knight friends played a good joke on ya here. Everybody knows there's no such thing as living dead. Shaking his head with another laugh, Zoltan walks back over to his large mug of plum wine and takes another hefty chug.
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As the party winds down, a well-dressed Keleshite man approaches you and bids you for a quick word. He introduces himself as the Trade Prince Aaqir al'Hakam, he is soft-spoken and subtle. He draws you to the side away from crowds or activity, and addresses them in a slow, level voice with a strong Kelish accent.
“Like a fast-spoken djinn, I’ll get to the quick. I know where you are going. House Damaq of Qadira claim the ruin, but we are willing to allow you access for the price of a small deed easily accomplished during your adventure. You will be well compensated, I assure you, for profits are most rewarding when shared. I assume treasure-seekers like yourselves are interested in such a proposition?”
Without waiting for an answer, he continues, his eyes intent
and his posture rigid.
“The ruin is Qadiran, which is why we claim it, and we are willing to defend it, but there are really only certain things left in Asad’s Keep we are interested in: trade agreements, of which we believe there to be many within the ruins. All we ask that you do is to turn over all trade agreements you find to us as soon as you return to Absalom, as we will be able to hold the signers to them even centuries after their signing.
“The satrap of Qadira—nay, the entire Padishah Empire of Kelesh—has much to offer the Pathfinder Society, and I personally have no qualms about sharing those resources with you specifiically. Shall we shake on this agreement?"
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Brother Felinros grins easily, "Seems fair enough to me, I'll shake on it." But then, there has been enough worship of the Lucky Drunk at this point, that the good brother might agree to anything.
"Since we shall face history undeath and danger on the morn, let us enjoy the evening while it lasts!" Toasting Zoltan and the rest who will join in the revelries, the priest begins bestowing blessings on the unaware and uncaring as he is swept away by the flow of the party.
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You slide us a little extra gold, we get you these papers you want. Deal! Zoltan offers a massive hand and crushing shake in agreement. The gladiator then acknowledges the Cayleanite priest's toast and with a another gulp of plum wine, To finding the sword and papers, and gettin' rich doin' it! Smiling and now stumbling a bit, Zoltan then merges in with the revelries.
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As is his usual habit when dealing with persons of importance, Vanyel bows politely to the Qadiran faction leader. "I am in agreement with my fellows, Trade-Prince. We shall do our best to carry out this task. I do have a question and an observation, if I may. How are we to recognize the documents you desire? Too, these trade agreements doubtless date back to the time the siege castle was used by your Qadiran forebears; it comes to me to wonder what use they would be today, but that is your business, not mine."
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You spent the remainder of the night doing what pleases you, the morning consisted of preperations. You found the travel to the site given to you in directions, to be ardous; the terrain is rocky and marred with the scars of millennia of wars, making it thirsty work for you to get here, though you encounter no resistance. THe directions lead you to a small gully; at the end of it is a cliff wall with a door set into it approximately 15 feet off the ground. The door is ancient and ironbound. Its wood is dried and cracked. Directly in front of the door is a steep slope of rubble and dust-crusted debris that, as luck woul dhave it, provides a path-albeit a rough and difficult one-right up to the door.
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Zoltan had spent the travel up to the door shaking off the last of the cobwebs from the night before, and by the time the group arrived at the entrance was his old self. Anybody got a key...or a ladder? Frowning up the door he adds, well, could try to get a grappling hook up to it. The gladiator seemed to be thinking out loud more than anything though.
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Cure? Zoltan gives a puzzled expression as he asks the question. No, look, you've got it all wrong. We're not sick, we're just here for a sword and some papers. Now this morning I could've use a good hangover trick, but you're too late for that. Anyways, good luck findin' people needin' fixin'. The gladiator then looks past the creature as if again focused on how to get to the ledge and door.