Fresh off their induction into the Society and the completion of their basic training within the organization, you find yourselves in the office of Ambrus Valsin, the venture-captain in charge of daily operations in and around the Grand Lodge. The efficient and straightforward chamberlain greets you curtly and motions you to sit down.
"All right, Pathfinders! Listen up. I know you are new recruits eager to make names for yourselves in the organization, but first we need to make sure you are up to snuff and won’t get yourself killed out there. I have a number of small assignments for you and your team, and it would be best if you could finish them before the day’s end."
""Every day we get some doe-eyed hopeful or some sniveling bootlicker willing to do anything to join up with the Pathfinders. Most of them are good kids, but not all of them have the salt to make it in a world like this. It’s rough out there and I’m not just talking about the ruins, tombs, and wilderness Pathfinders find themselves in on missions. We’ve got people who look down their noses at us, folks who think we squander our resources, and agents who want to take everything we have collected. This wealth of knowledge and these items of lore make us the most powerful organization on the planet. That said, since we are fractured and widespread, it’s difficult for that power to light on anything for too long. For every friend of the Society, there are two enemies."
Ambrus gives all of you an envelope containing a handout outlining your tasks.
"Your first mission, to test your mettle and loyalties, sends you to meet a few people important to the Society living here in Absalom. These are other venture-captains or close allies of our organization, so follow their orders as you would mine. I’ve prepared a list of things I want you to do. They’re not arranged in any particular order of importance, but I want them all completed as quickly as possible. Only report to me once you complete them all. Included in the envelope you hold in your hands is the list, complete with the name of your contact, and directions to the meeting location."
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Oh my, making fun of our immediate superiors! That is not good for one's health, not good at all. Baron Bogorov would have us cleaning the stables for a mouth for such a slight. Thank Asmodeus the old #%$@ is dead and I never have to clean horse #%$ from the floor again. Rot in hell you #%$ b#%£€¥!
So, what do we have here? Mollok whispers to himself also smiling while taking a peek at the evelope.
If looks could kill Jeffrey was far from living the moment he made his comment.
"We are one short for you to start, please wait a moment longer. I would also like to remind you that your contacts are to be treated as authority figures and be both respected and obeyed."
He shifts some papers on his desk and grabs a map.
"Here is the map of the city if you are not familiar with it. Since you may choose your own order this might come in handy. At the end of this meeting I want it back, so take a good look at it now."
Ambrus looks at everyone intently before he starts talking again.
"Oke, you are complete now. As it is going to be a very busy day you need to get on the move as soon as possible.
You all have the handouts, so you should know where to go. If you have any questions on what to do you should ask your contacts."
He stands up from behind his desk and moves towards the door to let everyone out.
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Maqan halls a carriage outside the Grand Lodge, passing a few coppers to the driver to cover the fare for all, and says, "To the docks, driver! We're headed for the Pickled Imp, if you know it. If not, just get us to the docks, we'll find it from there."
Maqan manages to keep an eye on the city as they go, all the while asking each of her companions, "So, how did you decide to join the Society?"
You are currently in a fairly busy street. A carriage halts next to the group. The driver gives a nod and steps down.
"Thank you madam, please enter. There is room for the four of you."
He opens the door for you to enter.
"You are in luck that I just dropped off the previous customers. It's a very busy day."
He closes the door behind the last person and as he steps up again you feel the carriage shift a bit.
"Off to the Pickled Imp we go."
The carriage starts moving and you are on your way to the first mission.
You see someone looking at you intently from across the crowded street. A throng of people moves between you and the observer and he has disappears into the crowd.
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Distracted by Magan's question, Saarai doesn't see much on the ride to the Pickled Imp.
"I'm was an incredibly wealthy and influential duchess from Korvosa," she says with an accent. "When my title was unjustly stripped from me, I decided that rather than stir up strife in an attempt to regain my wealth and title, I would join the Pathfinders and try to save the world," the tiefling says.
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A smirk flashes across Maqan's face when she hears Saarai's explanation, but she reigns it in quickly when she sees the intense watcher on the street.
She relays the feeling of being watched to the others, ”But then, what' snot to stare at, yes? Two exotic devil-women entering a carriage with a pair of strapping men? Not exactly the most common sight, even in Absalom." The smirk returns. ”A former serf or servant from Korvosa, perhaps?"
After riding through the busy streets for about 15 minutes you arrive at your destination. The carriage driver opens the door and once you are all out he bids you farewell and is off.
This creepy shop contains myriad odds and ends, most bereft of any discernible use. A number of malformed creatures and creature parts bob in jars on a long, prominent shelf, a tiny fetal devil centered in this macabre lineup. The shopkeeper, a greasy-haired Varisian with a thin mustache, shouts from behind the cluttered counter:
“Ah yes, I see the Pathfinders have arrived. I’m glad Ambrus was able to lend a few of his new recruits to help me. Please come in and let me tell you what I need.”
Looking around as if to be absolutely certain no customers are browsing the aisles of knock-off Thuvian burial urns or supposed Azlanti porcelain, he begins again.
“Well met. I am Guaril Karela. A friend of mine has a warehouse near here and he received a parcel on behalf of me and some of my associates, but there’s a problem. See, Master Gelbane had to leave town in a hurry and our shipment is still waiting at his warehouse. Rumor is he ended up in trouble with the law and the place was seized. I heard tell from someone down at the docks that some creep was snooping around his warehouse just the other night, so I want to make sure nothing of mine was taken. He keeps all kinds of things, from beer to nails, in that old pelican, but every now and then he stores something really special. This is one of those cases."
“There’s a big crate marked with three crows arranged in a triangle. Inside that crate is a smaller container with a few books and papers in it. That’s the only parcel I’m interested in, and as far as I’m concerned, you can help yourself to the rest of the crate. Honestly, anything else you want in the place too. I’m sure the once things get sorted out, the city will seize most everything else anyway."
“My associates and I often work with the Pathfinders when it comes to special relics and documents, getting them in and out of ports and across borders where the authorities ask too many questions. Most people don’t realize what they have and frankly many don’t deserve to have it, so sometimes we help take the goods off their hands. If things work out well and you get this done, I’d be glad to talk with you more and help you out with any future endeavors, as long as you help me out too. I’m good at returning favors, trust me.”
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"So, how did you decide to join the Society?"
I joined after being... invited by master Amenopheus. I have worked for other nobles over the years back in Cheliax but it was... not like this. The tiefling says staring at the city.
At the shop Mollok was about to ask the greasy man if he had the keys to the warehouse but Saarai's remark took care of the problem. Yes, I am familiar with that "long time ago" thing too. Life has its own way of going around in circles.
Any chance we could bump into the law at this warehouse?
Guaril sort of tries to answer all the questions at once, being very vague with the answers.
"Ooooh no no no. Not a chance! Everything is fine. Just go in and get the package. About Gelbade, he had to leave in a rush. Important business. I will trust you on getting the job done!"
Perched on the end of a long pier fifteen feet above the water, the warehouse appears to struggle against its own roof, threatening to sag into the bay below. No light shines from the building’s windows and only the movement of gulls and pelicans stirs the scene.
The building looks abandoned and in disrepair. The windows are dark and dirty and provide no view into the structure’s interior. A small boat bobs in the water below, tethered to the pier by a stout, salt-crusted rope. The warehouse’s heavy wooden front door is locked and the loading door is barred from the inside.
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Saarai moves forward confidently.
"Let me handle this," she says as she slinks toward the locked door. She looks the door over for any sign of a trap, then pulls a bundle of tools from her belt pouch.
She inserts a couple of them into the lock in an attempt to pick it.
"Hmmm...stubborn, rusty lock," she says.
The door opens and you are inside the warehouse.
Darkness fills the warehouse, the ambient light from outside blocked by a filthy, oily film on the structure’s few windows. Darting illumination comes from light reflecting off the water through a splintered hole in the floor. Throughout the warehouse, crates, boxes, and barrels lean against each other in vaguely sorted stacks. A lingering smell indicates some of the contents are certainly spoiled.
Perched in the middle of the hole, teetering on split planks, sits a large crate stamped with three crows arranged in a triangle—the very crate the PCs have come to find. Handholds cut into the stout wooden crate ring the rim. Other barrels, boxes, and crates sit stacked along the walls of the warehouse. Just inside the door sits a handful of crates and kegs of beer. Most of these smaller crates and barrels contain foodstuffs in various states of freshness. Some crates reek of rot. Stacks of simple coffins sit against the east wall. The rest of the crates are stacked along the north and south walls.
A crane, used for loading and unloading boats, clings to a rail running the length of the warehouse, hanging 5 feet below the high ceiling, and can slide out to extend past the loading doors along the west wall.
The crates contain simple sundries including, but not limited to beer, blocks of clay, coffee, coils of rope, dried fish, lead ingots, nails, nets, raw cotton, rough wool, spare sails, timber planks, various pulleys and tools, and cheap weapons.
There is not much to see about the crane, apart from what was told earlier. It should be possible to use it in its current condition.
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"Well, I'm not that versed in the nature of dockworking, but we should probably try and get that crate away from that hole in the floor, else it'll sink to the bottom of the bay if it falls in. And I don't know about you, but I don't think that I can pull it away from there without it falling it. Let me take a look at this crane..."
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”You really did have a good idea, Mollock. Jeffrey, you seem the strongest, so take point in lowering me over the crate we want. I'll take an extra coil of rope, tie it to a few of the handholds near the top of the crate, and then we'll use one of e block and tackles over there to lift the crate we want and swing it over to more solid flooring. Ha! What fun!"