Water laps steadily at the pier as sailors, laborers, and merchants rush busily around Absalom’s port. The venture-captain’s summons called for a meeting aboard the Sixwing Drake, a sleek sailing ship.
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Penumbra looks down at the water, and becomes lost in thought for a few seconds... before looking up and seeking the ship she wishes to go to. Spotting the Sixwing Drake she heads over, calling out: "Penumbra, of the Pathfinder Society, requesting permission to come on board".
Penumbra is a tall, lithe, dextrous, dark-skinned Mwangi woman, with cropped curly hair.
Under her weather-worn travelling clothes, you see battered studded leather, and she has a bandolier across her chest - with a few flasks in it, a couple with swirling green liquid, maybe acid, and third one with some clear magical oil -.
In hand she has a cold-iron Lucerne Hammer, a pole-arm with a hammer and a spiked tip, and a sling with pouch of bullets is at her belt.
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A moderately tall and spindly half-elf wanders about the pier a notebook and charcoal in hand, he takes meticulous notes of the place, even taking a sketch or two of the more interesting sights. His chain shirt is clean and in good repair, despite the lack of any obvious oil. Slung across his back is a longbow and a quiver stuffed with different types of arrows and laid crosswise from these is a large hammer the same shape the one the dark-skinned woman also carries. On the front of the brace holding his weapons, the alchemist carries the tools of his trade; various little vials and bottles full of uproarious colors that tinkle slightly as he moves. A vribrant, forest green scarf tops all of this off. After a moment to finish off a sketch of the Sixwing Drake he snaps the notebook closed and slides it into a specially designed pocket on his brace and then slowly wraps the charcoal in a dark cloth, placing it into a pocket next to the notebook. He gives a glance about the pier one last time and then ascends the gangplank.
"Come aboard, come aboard," one of the few workers on board urges the two. "Captain's a bit preoccupied at the moment, but feel free to come on up." From the way the others defer to him, it's apparent that he knows what's what on the Drake.
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You see a happy man bounding down the pier, whistling. His black mane is unhindered by a helmet or hat, and you see a rapier and a whip at his belt. You can see a chain shirt dangling under his yellow tunic, and a buckler is strapped over his backpack. More importantly, he carries a small one gallon cask of ale under his right arm, and his left hand sways up and down as he frequently samples his latest right arm acquisition.
He strolls up the gangplank confidently and asks the quartermaster, "Where's the meeting? I brought ale, of course! do you think this will be enough?"
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"Yes, ale! Do you have your own mug? if not, there, open your mouth..."
The happy man proceeds to tip the miniature keg above Penumbra's head while pinching the miniature tap.
"Oops... so... so sorry madam... there, let me rub this off you..."
The man proceeds to - comically, but not so much for Penumbra - try to soak the beer off her armor with his yellow shirt by trying to establish strange bear hugs and squeezing grapples... oh my... the happy man blushes a bit, realizing what he's doing... it is quite... something to behold... every attempted corrective action appears to make the situation worse...
The Drake’s captain, a Varisian woman and fellow Pathfinder named Zarah Zendrani, stands at the helm of her vessel. “It’s not like Valsin to be late,” she mutters, furrowing her brow.
She turns to look at those who've assembled thus far and her frown deepens. "It seems, some of your number are still missing, too, so perhaps it's just as well." Zendrani sighs, shaking her head. She turns back again, eyes roaming the crowds for Valsin - and the errant agents.
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Menarul gives a small burst of laughter at Son and Penumbra's antics. Sending up from the spot he'd decided to nestle into before the briefing he moves up to the group. With a smile that while genuine, also conveys a great deal of apprehension, he starts, "I was, uh, waiting for everyone before introducing myself, but seeing as everyone else is running late... Well the name's Menarul. Menarul Burkelip. If you need a fireworks display, I can help. No guarantee it will be a good one, but I can do it. And everyone else is?"
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"Ale, and now fireworks..." muses, Penumbra.
Bowing the the Half-Elf, the Mwangi-born lady introduces herself to him, and the others: "I go by the nickname of Penumbra, and am Pathfinder of the Dark Archives, and a follower of the Goddess Nethys. Always intent on discovering Arcane Magicks and Ancient Texts".
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"I suppose I should introduce myself as well. My name is Garzen Marbleface, envoy of the Five Kings Mountains and aspiring geokinetic knight. I am delighted to make an acquaintance of all of you."
Nothing in Garzen's expression or static, tiresome voice betrays this emotion, however, as his face seems to not shift in the slightest while he speaks, or at all.
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The happy man's eyes widen in delight at the sight of the grippli monk, as if he'd been waiting all his life to say the following!
"Why are frogs so happy? They eat watever bugs them!
What do you call a woman with a frog on her head? Lilly.
What's the difference between a cat and a frog? A cat has nine lives but a frog croaks every night!"
The happy man pauses, "Err... sorry.. forget about that last one. I have your back pal, don't worry!" The happy man moves his fingers in the correct pattern that would reproduce a cure light wounds spell, eager to provide proof.
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Seeing a familiar race, if not face, from the Mwangi forests and swamps, Penumbra bows before the Grippli: "Well met, Dio of the Kalhun Tribe, you have travelled far, as I".
Penumbra glowers at the loose-handed ale-totting man... and turns her head away - in order to hide the fact that he did make her smile.
"This is the real life," she responds to the dwarf, her face impassive.
Several minutes later, though... "Where is he?" Zendrani finally says aloud, her voice a bit louder, her exasperation more obvious.
As if on cue, a tall and meticulously groomed man pushes his way through the crowd and up the gangplank, cursing audibly. “Whoever supervises this mess of a port needs to be dumped in the sea!” he grumbles.
The tall man looks around at those gathered before him. “Just the group I requested. Perfect. I’m Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin, and I took great care in selecting just the right Pathfinders for this assignment.”
He reaches into his belt pouch and withdraws a small, folded paper before continuing. “A few days ago, I received a curious note from a rather unexpected source. It’s not every day that I get a request from an agent of the Aspis Consortium.” Captain Zendrani’s eyes widen, and Valsin smiles knowingly. “But Magali Delroya does not appear to be your typical Aspis agent. As you surely know, the Aspis Consortium pursues a variety of activities across the Inner Sea that the Pathfinder Society finds abhorrent. It seems that Delroya has been workiong with them for some time, but can no longer stomach the snakes herself. She wants to stop a shipment of an experimental drug from leaving Diobel later this week. It’s bound for a number of locations across the Inner Sea region. According to Delroya, she can’t ask the local authorities for help, because the Aspis Consortium has already struck a deal with a faction of the Kortos Consortium, a powerful merchant collective. Her hands are tied, so she’s come to us for help. In this note, she outlines three different tasks that would help to disrupt the Aspis long enough for her to move the shipment to a secure location, out of the clutches of the consortium. Once you accomplish two of these tasks, she’s willing to meet with you, but not before.
“Normally, I wouldn’t trust an Aspis agent at any hour of the day. But our sources in Diobel have confirmed the Aspis and Kortos consortia’s activities. Everything checks out, so we are presented with a unique opportunity. If we help Delroya, we might not only strike a financial blow against the Aspis Consortium, but we could also reveal their dealings with the Kortos Consortium - and possibly prevent their arrangement from turning into a more formal alliance. Furthermore, we hope to stop this drug from spreading across the Inner Sea region, and if we - if all of you - do a good enough job, we might even convince Delroya to join the Society. A turncoat agent would be a valuable asset in our ongoing run-ins with the Aspis Consortium.
“Take some time to look over Delroya’s note and the tasks she has set for you. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask. Remember, the Aspis Consortium is a long-time enemy of the society, but the Kortos Consortium, while certainly suspicious, is not our enemy. It is a complex organization with many factions, and we should avoid antagonizing any of them, except when necessary to oppose the Aspis Consortium”
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Though Penumbra does not know much of the local customs, she has heard that the Kortos and Aspis Consortiums are only working together in an unformal and limited capacity.
Having read the letter Master Valsin presents, Penumbra speaks her piece: "I would go straight to the source, and hunt down this Leper of Rat Street".
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Menarul takes the letters from Penumbra and reads through them. His face gradually darkens as he approaches the end of the second letter. "As an alchemist myself, I find it untenable that this man is using his skills to make dangerous drugs and for profit nonetheless. I say we target him first." His righteous anger then shortly fades into a sheepish grin. Passing the notes, he comments, "On a different note, I've been a little caught up in experimenting with the explosive properties of magnesium and seem to have lost tack of what day it is..."
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"I don't think there's a formal alliance between the Kortos Consortium and Aspis Consortium... so... maybe the two groups are likely working together in a limited capacity - at least for the time being. Not sure we should trust this Magali... so I'm not too keen in retrieving the formula of this new deadly drug for her. How about we do task 1 and 2? I can't definitely crash the meeting between the two Aspis agents, and I don't mind boarding a ship and spar with some sailors!"
"You ought to have some time to practice on your trip to Diobel," Venture Captain Valsin points out. "And you should be arriving early on Oathday." He puts his hands in his pockets and nods to you all in turn. "If there are no questions, I'll be going then. I've got a few other arrangements to make today."
He turns with a final warning: “Be careful, but be quick. By the time you get to Diobel, you’ll likely only have a day, maybe two at the most, to complete your tasks. Make sure you get any supplies or last-minute purchases before setting sail.”
He departs and Zendrani looks you all over. She sighs and shakes her head. "Alright, then, let's get going - have you got everything you need? What's your plan?" A moment's pause. "It sounds like you've got at least two votes for the alchemist and one for the ship and meeting so far."
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Menarul pauses for a moment, before dropping into a pensive scowl. "There was something I needed to do before we left, what was it... Ah, right my new bow and hammer! I'd forgotten all about them!" With this Menarul drops his bag off with a bang and rushes towards the gang plank, "The shop I ordered them from isn't more than ten minutes from here. I'll be quick. Also, instead of completely removing the notes why not make a forgery missing a few key things. This way she won't immediately catch on that we suspect her. I can even pick up a kit for it on the way back!"
His piece said, he thunders down the gang plank and starts to push through the crowd.
So Menarul is selling his:
Lucerne hammer 15gp
Longbow 75 gp
for a total of 90 gp
And buying:
Masterwork composite greenwood longbow +1 str. rating 650 gp
Masterwork Cold iron Lucerne hammer 330 gp
For a total of 980 gp.
From his current 1192 gp funds, Menarul should have 302 gp left.
Once all of the necessary tasks are over and done with, Captain Zendrani assigns you spaces to be before setting sail.
Oathday, dawn.
Captain Zendrani and the crew of the sleek Sixwing Drake steer the ship up to the massive barrier of broken war-barges, crumbling walls, and jetties of iron and wood that protect the port of Diobel. “Well, here we are,” says the captain. “I’ll make sure everything is in order with Diobel’s inspectors and charter you a barge to the port. You aren’t carrying anything particularly valuable, so you shouldn’t draw much attention from the inspectors or pilots, so long as you don’t run your mouth. My crew and I will wait here with the ship. You can return here to rest, if you need to, but remember - there isn’t much time!”
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The Son of Cayden nods upon hearing Menarul's idea. "Splendid idea! if you can pull off a believable fake, that will further foil the Aspis Consortium in their effort to spread this drug, and they will waste time and resource on say, the formula for some fine elven eye liner! HA HA HA! Awright, let's crash the two agents' party! I have silly 'stumbling tween restaurant tables' act I need to practice: if I'm good enough maybe I'll draw a crowd and draw attention to these two - you see, I usually need one or two volunteers for the act, and I'll pick them - and maybe they'll be forced to postpone their meeting!"
The Overflowing Oyster is a dirty, broken-looking building that barely fits between the fishing tackle shop to its north and the junk shop to its south. Hanging over the door is a creaky sign that shows a painted oyster with pearls spilling from its gaping shell.
The interior of the Overflowing Oyster displays a mix of rickety furniture and gaudy decorations, from strands of obviously fake pearls hanging over the kitchen’s entrance to wooden carvings of sultry mermaids and cheap paintings of ships at sea.
Despite its name, the dirty tavern isn’t exactly full to bursting with people - there are a few people hunched over cheap food, rolling some dice while the chat, cursing and muttering about whatever gossip keeps their days interesting.
“Well, come in!” the barkeep (green) calls out. The man beside him (red) goes about his business, making several trips to ferry things into the back. Apparently pleased to see new customers, the man grins broadly and asks, “What can I get for ya?”
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The happy man takes a few steps inside. The happy man looks around. Is there a stage? a performance area? a dance floor? are there lots of people inside? outside? is there a patio? a porch? are there lots of people in the streets that could be convinced to come inside?
The happy man appears in his element. So many options... as if to steady his mind, he closes his eyes and utters the following words, clear and out loud, for everyone inside or outside to hear:
"THE NEXT ROUND'S ON ME!!!!"
"Well, sure!" the man says amicably. He gestures to a chalkboard behind him - the other man had been passing in front of it - and gestures towards the items listed on it. "You can order up any of this, real special like, or you can have the usual at a silver piece!"
A quick glance at what those already there are eating reveals that the regular fare here is... truly unimpressive - they're eating meals of bread, baked turnips, and maybe some onions.
Salted Lamb and Acorn Bread, Tankard of Mead (9 cp)
Pickled Partridge and Dried Watercress, Tankard of Beer (12 cp)
Millet Porridge, Mug of Ale (2 cp)
Boiled Watercress, Mug of Ale (3 cp)
As far as Son of Cayden can tell, there's no center stage for performances, but the railing towards the back of the establishment looks like open-seating where you can see (and smell) the water - and some other ships and buildings - beyond.
With his announcement, the few men speaking over their food look up, startled, and then return to their food. The barkeep grins and rubs his hands together. "Gettin' an early start, are you? It's early in the day yet!"
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Son of Cayden heads towards the railing to take in the sights and smell the sea for a moment, then return to the bar to buy the drinks he promised to everyone.
"Barkeep! surely these three hats over there are not the only patrons in your establishment today! I intend to buy a free beer to everyone here! are there other customers in those rooms yonder? if so I'm buyin' for them too!"
At this, the barkeep chuckles. "Well, aren't you just excited for the day?" he asks, laughing aloud. "Most o' the people here've already left for their day's toil. Them three o'er there are just my usual pals - sometimes we throw dice and I give 'em the occasional discount to keep our slate clear."
He leans forward, pressing both of his surprisingly impressive forearms on the counter. "Well, what's the occasion, then? You seem fair chipper." As he engages the happy man, the other man - the one that had been moving in and out of the back room - appears with a bowl of goat's milk for Penumbra.
Without saying anything, he sets the bowl down and retreats to the back room once more.
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Menarul takes up a seat at the bar and asks the barkeep, "It says you have acorn bread. Is it any good? I haven't had a good loaf of acorn bread in ages... But I guess I'll have to be the judge of that myself. I'll have that and an ale, if I have to get the mutton as well so be it."
After handing over his money and getting his order, Menarul moves closer to Penumbra and Son of Cayden. In a low voice he whispers. "We don't really have a plan here, and it seems like the show Son wants to do might not happen easily. It might be a good idea to move to a table and hash out a plan. I'm not the smoothest of talkers, or I'd suggest it to everyone."
"O' course!" the man grins broadly enough to reveal a few missing teeth. "I'll go and get that, right quick, lickety split!" This time, both he and the other are in the back, giving you a few moments to yourselves - with only the three at the side to worry about overhearing you.
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Menarul replies in a like minded voice. "How do you want to go about that though? Claim we are from a pearl divers guild from somewhere else and tie-up business so that the meeting can't happen? Coerce him into helping us? Also what do we do about the men in hats, if they're going to help the bar keep or here for the exchange we might want to have someone try getting chummy with them."
The three old men are a bit confused by the interactions, but are happy to chat with the happy man that brings them free drinks. From a brief interaction with them, you learn that they spend most of their time there, grumbling over dice and generally talking about the things that they encounter when they're not hanging out... Like getting yelled at by the missus or worrying about the daughter running off on her own to find a new man, so on and so forth.
"As far as how this place is..." one of the three shrugs and gestures to the open, mostly empty space. "It's a cheap, convenient place, but perhaps not the most popular."