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"Well, hello there!" a voice calls out, from a dark corner of the room.
A young, rather scrappy looking halfling steps out from the shadows. "Name's Farin, although many who are not of our ... stature... call me Fuzzfoot."
"You appear quite ready for action. Know how to use that blade? Me, no - I can use one, but not really my style. I prefer to use my wits to avoid a fight. But then again, sometimes one just has to light things up."
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A serious looking human wearing a red robe over a suit of armor stands in the corner with his nose buried in a book. He looks up at the two halflings, and you notice that he is wearing odd purple-tinted goggles.
He coughs awkwardly, and introduces himself.
"Hello, friends. My name is Regnel. I don't think we've met yet. I work as an archivist for the Society most of the time, but I'm always up for a mission when one arises. I'm excited about meeting Yargos Gill - he's apparently a scholar of some note!"
Your boots squash with fetid water as you plod through the Puddles. A thick fog hangs in the air, seeming almost to caress the flesh with an unnatural chill. As you stand outside the Soggy Piper in a foot and a half of brackish brine, you try to recall what was so damned important to demand your presence in the half-flooded slum during Absalom’s rainy season. You remember your meeting at the Lodge just a few hours earlier with your Venture-Captain, Adril Hestram.
A bear of a man with only a few teeth remaining in his head, he motioned you into the meeting hall with a casual wave of his grizzled hand. The human captain outweighs most of Absalom’s half-orcs and those of you who have tangled with him in the Lodge sparring ring know that beneath a thin veneer of fat lies nothing but solid, steely sinew. Adril’s wild beard wags to the ponderous shake of his massive head as he examines a scrap of ancient parchment on the table before raising his eyes to greet your gaze and speaking.
“Come in then, friends, and thank you for answering my summons so swiftly. The society is in need. An old and quite penniless historian, a bespectacled wag-beard by the name of Yargos Gill has recently made a discovery in an old archive that we have a great interest in obtaining: an ancient codebook, left behind in the wake of one of Taldor’s many failed attempts at invasion. This several-hundred-year-old text would prove an excellent addition to our collection, and must be preserved."
“Yargos makes his home in ‘The Puddles,’ Absalom’s poorest district, suffering from a well-known reputation as a haven for lowlifes. Following an earthquake ten years ago, parts of the Puddles now rest below sea level, resulting in frequent and untimely flooding. Those who can afford not to live there don’t."
“The district is the stomping ground of pimps, harlots, addicts, knifers, and hoards of unseemly derelicts. It’s never been a kind place, but recent reports reveal some new nameless terror on her waterlogged streets. Several persons claim to have seen cloaked, skeletal-like figures marching through an unnatural fog. Ill tidings indeed. Tracking down Yargos is now a priority lest some yellow-toothed thug cut him down, or one of these strange wraiths carry him beyond the pale. Find him, fellow Pathfinders, and find the codebook. Your exploits will be recorded in the Chronicles if you succeed.”
The memory fades as a fresh deluge of cold seawater rounds a bend in the lane and assaults your knees. After searching for Yargos at his favorite eatery, the Soggy Piper, you learned you just missed him. According to the Piper’s staff, a gang of dangerous young tattooed toughs arrived ahead of you. They grabbed Yargos and several of his friends from their dinner table and dragged them to a nearby cliff at the edge of the Puddle District. The watch was called, but they will arrive too late, as they often do in the Puddles, when they bother to venture there at all.
It is early evening, the first Wealday of the month of Desnus, an old man is about to face some awful fate at the sea cliff known as Torsen’s Maw, and you are no closer to finding the codebook Adril sent you for.
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Regnel looks at his companions with shock when he hears that Gill and his friends have been dragged towards Torsen's Maw.
"We have to save him! Codebook be damned, I'm not about to let an old man be murdered on my watch!"
Pulling his cloak back over his head, Regnel rushes out towards the cliff as fast as he can.
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Avendar, magician and swordmaster (or so he introduced himself to the party with a bow when meeting the venture captain) nods at Regnel's exclamation and follows after him, Rapier already drawn.
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The young Kelish woman waded through the brackish water with a look of distaste on her lovely face. The striking white tiger that stalked at her side bore the water a bit better, but he held his jaws open, huffing his breath out through his mouth. A sure sign that he did not like what he smelled. "It is hard to imagine anyone would choose to live here. Why the wilds of the jungle would be safer, I think. And certainly smell better..." Thirsty seconded her words with a chuff and then sneezed.
As they drew near to their destination, she stroked the tiger's fur and spoke an incantation of protection and then did the same for herself.
Rushing ahead, the party happens on a terrible scene.
Six brash young toughs covered with tattoos of vicious, snarling dogs are prodding four terrified older men off the edge of a cliff into the sea. The prisoners are shackled together in a line with heavy chains, which shall surely drag them to the sea floor in short order should they tumble from the cliff’s edge into the churning waters below.
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The look of distaste on Selima's face pales compared to the utter disdain exhibited by Jaxal as he complains about the water's effect on his highly polished knee high boots. "Really, couldn't they have sent us on something more... civilized?" While he seems to be a bit snooty and unimpressed by everything, one can occasional notice that he is paying far more attention to his surroundings than he cares to let on.
Seeing the scene on the cliff unfold, he stops fussing with his expensive looking clothes, and draws his longbow. "I fear this is going to turn ugly quick," he says, as he pulls out an arrow.
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Regnel eyes the thugs and tries to see if he can see any way to easily get through their ranks towards the chained up men. He reaches a hand into the bandolier that crosses his chest and pulls out a tanglefoot bag, feeling it's weight in his hand as he prepares to throw it at the chained up men if any of the thugs move to push them closer to the cliff's edge.
Regnel's alchemical sack flies far off its mark but it does get the toughs' attention. "We've got company! Hurry up! Push 'em off!"
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Selima concentrates on feelings of rage toward the men threatening the poor chained fellows so Thirsty will not be confused who is the enemy. Bad men! The tiger flattens his ears and roars in answer to his mistress's anger. His muscles tense, ready for her to give the word. "Rip them, my darling." She crows, giving the tiger the order to attack. He lopes to the center of the mass of bad men, trying to sink his teeth into flesh.
With the men distracted by a tiger bearing down on them, Selima calls to the bound men as she steps closer. "We are here to help, do not resist!" She then reaches out with her magic and tries to coat the chain, shackles and all in magical grease.
The spell can also be used to create a greasy coating on an item. Material objects not in use are always affected by this spell, while an object wielded or employed by a creature requires its bearer to make a Reflex saving throw to avoid the effect. If the initial saving throw fails, the creature immediately drops the item. A saving throw must be made in each round that the creature attempts to pick up or use the greased item. A creature wearing greased armor or clothing gains a +10 circumstance bonus on Escape Artist checks and combat maneuver checks made to escape a grapple, and to their CMD to avoid being grappled.
*growl*chomp*
The unfortunate thug cries out in pain when he's pounced on by the young tiger.
One of the thugs gurgles as Regnel's blade catches him in the throat. He falls to the ground dying.
The lead tough gives the chained man closest to the edge a solid kick sending the poor man toppling off the cliff. The weight of the first victim drags the rest of the chain down one after another. The last man, an aged warrior well past his prime, manages to grab the edge but it's clear their combined weight is more than he can hold for long.
The rest of the toughs move to engage the party with weighted saps.
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Avendar stabs at the nearest thug and then tumbles his way towards the cliff to help the falling old men.
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Regnel grunts as the weighted sap slaps into the side of his head. He takes a step back and pulls out his shield and angles it between himself and the two thugs attacking him.
He then takes a step forward and swings his sword at the closest thug.
Unfortunately, his blade seems to go wide of the mark. "Damn it!"
Thirsty continues to press the attack, unleashing feline fury on the unfortunate thug before him.
Rose's rapier scraps harmlessly off a thug's leathers but Thirsty has more luck, finishing off his first victim and bringing down another with a savage bite.
Jaxal's arrow flies into the sea.
Selima gives it an honest effort but she just isn't strong enough to keep a hold of the prisoner at the end of the chain. She loses his grip at the same time he does and all four older man land with a splash in the foamy water below. Cries of panic can be heard as the prisoners attempt to stay afloat while struggling with their shackles.
Aided by Selima's sheen of grease two manage to slip out of their bindings. The other two aren't as fortunate and, weighed down by their chains, begin to slip beneath the waves.
The remaining toughs strike back at the party.
Thirsty, sensing his mistress' unease, lashes out again at the bad men.
Rose, Thirsty, and Jaxal bring down two more of the toughs.
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Avendar pulls out a rope, hands one end to Semilar, and then, with a firm grip on the other end, steps off the edge of the cliff.
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Avender hits the water with a splash. The two chained prisoners reach for him. "Help!"
The last thug refuses to yield!
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Avendar lands harmlessly in the water. Although he tries to keep the men afloat, he will sink with them rather than let them go, trusting his companions to pull them all up.
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Avendar finds that he isn't strong enough to keep the chained old men from sinking beneath the water.