Place your mark here if you're in.
You arrive in Diobel via the overland route from Absalom to meet a contact in a pub known as “The Tails”; a dingy, brine-soaked shack covered with swordfish tails located in a rundown section of town called South Reach. There, bitter longshoreman coming off the graveyard shifts pile in and slam rounds of a potent shark-fin liquor, cursing and complaining until they’re drunk enough to be carted home by noon. The disparaged scene has few prying eyes—the ideal place for Pathfinders to pass along their covert whispers. You enter early in the day, when the small crowd of older men is at its most drunk and rowdy, the revelry within barely contained by the boarded-up windows. You stand out like sore thumbs among the ruddy-faced dockworkers, most of whom have more ginblossoms than teeth. The crowd immediately heckles you for being up-scalers and gold-thumbers, demanding you spend some of your coin to buy the bar a round, but quickly fall silent when moments later, a dark, cloaked figure rises from the back of the bar. Then, eyes averted, everyone returns to their former conversations. Drawing back his cloak, your contact reveals himself—a man his late forties with obvious Chelaxian features and a faint beard. He introduces himself only as Osprey, then invites you to sit before he finally tells you why the Society dragged you to Diobel:
"We’ve word that the accursed Chelaxian pirate Darsielle Du Moire’s has anchored his much sought ship, the Hydra’s Fang, in the harbor. Everyone’s looking for that bastard. He carries with him some ancient tablets of extreme historical value to our organization. Unknown to most, Wittlestone, the small Andoren town Du Moire razed to the ground, was also home to Myraxus Threeshadows, a noted but aging sage and umber mystic supposedly of ancient Azlanti decent. Among Myraxus’s possessions he kept ancient forgeries of several tablets used in ancient rites during Old Azlant’s height. When Darsielle destroyed the village, he slew the wizard and took the tablets, hoping to pawn them to one of his buyers in Diobel. The tablets are a priceless archeological treasure, one greatly desired by the Pathfinder Society. In fact, just prior to the Azlanti’s death, we placed several bids to purchase the tablets and so naturally were the first to realize they’d gone missing. You must race to get Du Moire and recover the stolen tablets before his pursuers find him or he flees port."
He continues, "If our sources are correct, we’ve learned that he owes a substantial amount of money to one of the Consortium’s more ambitious Enforcers, an importer named Lubor Staizkal. Likely he needs to settle with him at some point. Go to Lubor’s shop on Meldon Lane, near the docks, and see if you can pick up Du Moire’s trail from there, then do whatever you can to get those tablets. May the Gods speed you in this task."
"Forgeries from an age long past are still valuable. You're looking for four tablets. One each fashioned from copper, gold, lead, and black slate. They're each about the size of a spellbook's cover."
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"Greetings, Osprey! I am Azdak Ejderha at your service and the service of the Pathfinder Society. I am an agent of the Grand Lodge and I willingly accept this offer to retrieve the tablets. Shall I presume that this pirate Du Moire will not be interested in hearing of the Pathfinder Society's bids?"
"Could you also kindly tell me more about Lubor Staizkal? An agent of the consortium does not sound like an ally to the Pathfinder Society. I take it that he would also have an interest in the forgeries? Or is he after Du Moire for other reasons entirely?"
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Boom is a bit distracted by the gleeful mayhem around the pub, but she slips in a quick question. "What about Du Moire"--she mockingly drawls out the syllables--"and this Lubor-lube fellow? Can I blow them to meaty bits? Bam! Hee hee, that would be fun. You don't need them alive, do you?" Boom pouts the final query to make her preference that much more obvious.
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"and this Lubor-lube fellow? Can I blow them to meaty bits? Bam! Hee hee, that would be fun. You don't need them alive, do you?"
"Excuse me, mam. I don't believe we've met. I am Azdak Ejderha." The sorcerer extends his hand. "Who's acquaintance do I have the pleasure of making? I mean no offense, but are you a member of the Pathfinder Society? You just seem to take excessive delight in blowing things up. You do remember that our three tenents are to explore, report, and cooperate? Destroying things is much further down the list the last time I checked." He says with a grin.
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Boom extends a claw in return. "Of course, of course! I only blow up evil nasty things, like piratey slavers who massacre towns and slay scholars! Firebombs for friends is no fun at all. Enemies of the society though..." she grins to reveal unusually pointy teeth, "that's another matter. Boom! Tee hee." As an afterthought, she adds "Oh, and that's what people call me. Boom." Her attention wanders back to the bar brawl developing a few tables down.
It might. Azdak is now level 4 (he was 2 last I saw him). It depends on if it's Mikhaere that joins us.
No worries. We have time anyway, we won't likely be up and running til Monday.
IF:
Boom 1
Nivik 1
Rom 1
Azdak 4
Mikhaere 2
Then it's still 1-2.
IF:
EITHER Boom or Rom get switched out, then we're still 1-2
BUT: If BOTH of them switch out we're at 3, and the party will have to decide. I don't foresee anyone being offended or whatnot, so don't be shy with what you'd rather do.
Yoshima it is.
I need to do a little book keeping on him after finishing Face of the Masked God (what a trip to play as a Paladin).
But I'll get him updated and ready by tomorrow morning.
Any other questions before heading out?
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"I find it odd that a Chelaxian would act in such a blatantly illegal way. Does he not fear the Hell Knights? Such bravado is dangerous to all who encounter it. We will put down this mad dog and recover you tablets." A soft, firm voice replies barely over the din.
A nearly 2 meter Tien, with long white hair steps forward and bows.
"I am Muteki Odo Yoshima, Firstborn of Lord Muteki Noboda Misamoto, Paladin of the Eternal Empress. You may call me Shima for short. I am at your service."
"Dead works just fine for me. I'll take any proof you have that he's out of commission for good."
On your contact’s advice, you arrive at the shop of one of Du Moire’s supposed connections. A sign over the door reads “Lubor’s Imports.” The door hangs slightly ajar. All is dark within, and eerily silent. As you peer inside, you witness the scene of a recent brawl. Furniture lies smashed and strewn about. Near a closed door at the back of the shop, two bodies slump upon the floor, their blood pooling slowly beneath them.
Yoshima and Hal both reconnoiter. The Paladin sees no sign of life, and Halbarad can't find any discerning tracks, but there are no other egresses.
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Azdak steps in and sighs at the sight of the two bodies. "Clearly, the import business is a dangerous one. Lubor Staizkal is running a dangerous game here. So are those two folks really dead? I wonder if there is any evidence of who they are?"
Azdak checks through their possessions to see if he can identify them, or at least not some recognizable features of them.
Nivik covers the room in magic detection, but comes up empty. The bodies are nondescript, and look like they've been picked clean of anything of interest. No one hears anything from the room to the East.
Halbarad, you do hear the faintest of noises on the other side. It sounds like crates sliding across the floor.
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En route to the docks, the party runs head-first into a bizarre, mud-covered creature that Nivik recognises as the sour-tempered tengu, Mikhaere. Turns out he'd gotten bored of waiting around for their contact (Ospreys were pretty common birds anyway, he'd muttered) and had decided to do some recon himself. To little avail, of course, considering most people around here ran away at the sight of him. Oh well.
To those he doesn't know? Well... they might be a little confused, but he assures them (in tones dripping with sarcasm) that he is a beloved and valued member of the Society who is here to assist in something-or-other about an osprey causing problems or something. Being informed of the actual goings-on (no birds besides seagulls, no doubt) causes him to become sullen, but he follows along anyway.
As soon as the party spots the blood-covered scene, Mikhaere gags, covering his beak with one feathered arm to block the scent. He lingers outside as the others converge, but eventually dares to step inside.
Mikhaere tentatively approaches the bodies and takes a quick look at them, trying to determine the cause of death.
At that moment, of course, Halbarad kicks the door open, and Mikhaere is forced to pay attention to what awaits them beyond...
Mikhaere, their throats were cut. There are defensive wounds, but not many.
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The door holds fast, and the noise from the other side goes silent...
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As soon as the door kicking fails, Hal retreats to the opposite wall and, swallowing his pride, mimics a dwarvish gravel: "Oy, Lubor! Open yer damm door! What'd you kill ma em'sseries fer? I knew that un's fadher. Damm shame. 'f course, he was stealin' frem ya, so I dunt blame ya. Get out here, we got business ta conduct!"
Halbarad strains his elven ears to hear even the slightest of sounds from beyond the door.
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To those he doesn't know? Well... they might be a little confused, but he assures them (in tones dripping with sarcasm) that he is a beloved and valued member of the Society who is here to assist in something-or-other about an osprey causing problems or something. Being informed of the actual goings-on (no birds besides seagulls, no doubt) causes him to become sullen, but he follows along anyway.
"Greetings, Pathfinder. I'm Azdak. Are you joining us on this mission? I suspect this will be one of the more dangerous ones we've been on. So what's your name? I've never met one of your kind before."
Once inside, Azdak watches the Tengu curiously, having never worked with one before. He is both impressed with the creature's professionalism at healing and its ability to hide. Trying to following its example, Azdak tries to find a hiding place in a different corner where he can also hide.
While he waits and listens, he draws forth his wand of magic missiles and prepares to use it, if needed.