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Tofang Siyaah is a slight Wayang. He typically wears outfits with many pockets and sometimes wears protective eyewear except when in polite company.
After conversing with him a little bit you notice that Tofang is sharp and talks somewhat quickly, but is deliberate with his word choices and tends to approach problems as an engineer would.
He is fascinated by the melding of technological practices found in early firearms, and to that end he has fashioned a personal pistol of his own design.
He is generally wary of weapons and would like to avoid hurting anyone with them, but understands how dangerous the world can be and keeps his weaponry hidden on his person should the need arise.
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A short, chubby, gnome walks in. His girth is matched only by the smile on his face. When he speaks, the long green handlebar mustache atop his lips quivers. "Hey there, everybody!" He says in an excited voice. He has a spellbook poking out of his pack, clearly identifying himself as a wizard. However, the more curious item in his possession is a rare sight: a small hand-cannon. When not talking with his hands, the gnome is often seen shining and cleaning his gunpowder pistol with an almost religious devotion. "My name is Gack! Gack Blooth! And no need to be afraid of my l'il darlin' here. She only bites when I tell her to." He guffaws and smiles, finding that comment to be quite funny.
He nods respectfully to Naruhito, eyeing his shiny blade. But the gnome is soon distracted by the pistol on Tofang's hip. WHOA! Gunpowder buddies! Does yours shoot fire, too?"
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Tofang nods at Naruhito with a smile.
Whe Gack speaks to him he eyes the gnome with a little insecurity.
"Well, ehhh ... sometimes ... bu ... but please do not forget that these feats of engineering are very dangerous! We ... we have to be very careful during our missions not endanger ourselves and our teammates. You ... you have to always put safety first!" Tofang says a little shyly to Gack.
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Gack laughs loud and proud. "HA! OF COURSE!" He pulls out his pistol and points it in the air. "I always give my friends at least half a second of warning! Usually it's good enough!" He pulls the pistol down to his face, nearly touching it. "Of course, that's only for the fire setting. When it shoots acid, that's not nearly as dangerous. Practically safe!"
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I am well. a tengu man dressed in leather bows down to the samurai. Daiko Chirrut. And thank you for asking.
He looks around at the other fellow Pathfinder agents who seem to have received the same summons he did. Checking to make sure his shield and scimitar are both securely stored away, Daiko's eyes widen at the pair of small allies comparing their technology.
Oh my! Are those Alenkstar weapons? I have never seen one myself before, much less a pair. They must be so common on this side of the world.
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A half-elf steps into the room with the others. He wears a bright white three-quarter length coat over his breastplate and has a long glaive strapped to his back. He has trinkets of various kinds seemingly unnecessarily worn about his neck or pinned to his clothing. One that stands out most is a large collar, sized for some large beast with a tiger's eye pendant which he wears as an amulet.
He bows slightly in greeting "Hello, I suppose we are to take on this task together? Pleasure to meet you all, my name is Styrian."
Although each of you is busy with whatever doings are required of you, you are surprised to find a letter from Venture-Captain Esmayl ibn Qaradi. Being the excellent Pathfinder Society Agents you are, you acquiesce to his request and quickly find yourself gathered with your peers aboard a simple enough passenger boat. The ride is brief, but nonetheless allows you each the opportunity to introduce yourselves to each other as most of you already have. here!
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"An interesting collection of organizations to investigate. I do wonder if the easiest way to reach the very busy Sarenite priestess is to start with lady Meriwether to begin with. But I am sure Venture Captains plan is more informed than my own thoughts..."
Styrian tries to recall what relevant information he knows as their journey gets underway.
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I hope it is not so. Daiko agrees with Tofang. Though if we run into a dead end, perhaps with some dye I can blend in to the White Feathers at least!
He rustles a bit at his own joke (whether anyone else finds it funny or not) but then turns and nods at the newest arrival. Ah, hello 'Cherrie'. It is always good to meet a new Pathfinder.
Introductions come to an end just as boat gently thumps against the dock.
Qaharid, the Turquoise City, spreads out from its docks at the vertex of the Maharev and Meraz Rivers, its forest of minarets and spires proudly flaunting the lustrous copper mined from the surrounding hills. Though far from the cosmopolitan coasts, the city rises from its perch with an eagle’s pride that sports every color of the rainbow, as though it were itself a district of the grand metropolis of Katheer.
Fifty thousand souls call the city home, and it shows. People of every description hustle through the docks, and a cacophony of accents and languages mingle with the music of charming street buskers. A rich market street lined with bright awnings and tents leads straight from the docks to the customs house, beyond which rise the golden spires of the Sarenite temple. No doubt the prospective patron in Venture-Captain Esmayl ibn Qaradi’s letter might be found there in the Temple Ward.
Freshly painted signs announce, in several languages, the entrance to Coppersmith Lane, a place whose workaday name belies the expensive temptations that beckon to passersby from its countless tables and stalls. All manner of wares are visibly available, from cheap bandages to magic jewelry. Glittering devices celebrating the goddess dangle from most stalls, and buntings and banners announce the annual solstice festival.
Here and there, almost like blank spaces in the crowd, are the unadorned, crisp white cloaks and shifts of White Feather adherents. They are not the only noticeable spots in the streets. Children dressed as Sarenrae and her paladins run laughing through the streets playing little war games. A smiling priestess doles out blessings to passersby, cheerfully intoning, “The dawn brings new light!”
Beyond the crowds lies the Temple Ward, and perhaps a way to get a certain High Priestess' attention amidst all the chaos.
There appears to be some concerned whispers about the Roidirans among the chatter of the day. “Will they do what they did yesterday?” One woman asks, concerned.
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Daiko's eyes widen at the sheer energy of the city. As the party disembarks and tries to make their way through the crowd, he whispers to Cherrie This certainly is a vast city. Are all Places in this part of the world so crowded?
When Tofang mentions the guards, the tengu looks around and is surprised to see the wayang is correct. He whispers back Yes, strange. It sounds like they are worried about Rodrians. I think they did something yesterday: no one knows if it will happen again. I wonder what it was, to need so many men watching for it?
Seeing the wayang move to ask a guard more directly, Daiko smiles back at the nearest priest as she offers her blessing. Yes, as the storm clears away! he says in agreement.
The man startles at being so suddenly addressed by an outsider. "I, uh," he stammers, clearly a bit unnerved. "I'm not quite sure what you're talking about. Can't you see there's a festival about?"
The priest is clearly surprised by the Tengu's response, but smiles all the broader for it. "And the Everlight will guide your way!" she adds before returning her attention to other festival goers.
“They're probably in response to those accursed Roidiran cultists stirring up trouble in the streets and proclaiming doom and despair,” the man manages. "I don't know anything much aside from that -- it's all I can think of." And with that, he quickly disappears into the crowd.
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Tofang nods and is obviously quite astounded about that this vibrant city is all dedicated to one god. And that these people are all so upset just because other beliefs are presented to them.
"Well, let us follow our orders and find these festivities and try to impress a patron!" Tofang says and starts walking.
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Daiko agrees and begins wandering towards what looks like the hearts of the festivities. As they move, he asks I thought the Roidirans looked for 'hidden, uncomfortable truths'. If they are acting likes nothing matters and everything is going bad anyway, I wonder what they know?
While they move, Daiko keeps an eye out for any street vendors, looking to see if there are any treats he could sample to see the local cuisine.
As they advance towards the Temple Ward, Daiko has plenty of opportunities to try some of the samples that stands are offering to entice further business. As a tourist, he is targeted almost immediately, but the prices named are somewhat higher than he might feel comfortable. The festival is brightly colored with veils and scarves in myriad colors, but the most dominant are blue and gold, the sacred colors of Sarenrae.
It’s noontide on the longest day of the year by the time you navigate the thick crowds and arrive at the Temple Ward, and yet the dry heat has done nothing to still the clamor of religious devotion. For all the schisms and debates within the Qadiran Sarenite church, today they are all one in her service. It is apparent that church and state are truly in alignment as the activity grows more and more frenzied as you approach.
The temple, too, is hardly in a solemn state. Rather, a secondary marketplace has grown from the assortment of stalls and decorations that celebrate Sarenrae. Unfolding on a canopied stage is the final scene of the Qadiran ballet, “The Dance of the Golden Veils,” depicting the remarkable triumph of Sarenite paladins against impossible odds, all to the melismatic strains of an orchestra performing beneath a sea of colorful parasols.
In the opposite corner of the square lay a large, inert machine some 30 feet in height depicting the evil god Rovagug and a worried prest pacing around it. A sign saying “See Sarenrae defeat the might Rovagug! Noon Today!” sits beside it, but it is past noon, the ballet is about to end, and there are no actors in sight to operate the clockwork monstrosity.
A priest paces before it, one arm across his chest while the other bites anxiously at a thumbnail. “Oh, where could they be?” the young man worries.
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Ooh! Pretty toy!" Gack hurries over to the machine, clapping his hands. 'Excuse me sir, did you get this from Alkenstar? Does it run on gunpower, wind power or solar power? Silly me! Of course it runs on solar power! Uh... why isn't it moving, buddy? The sun is plenty hot!" The gnome stands beside the priest, waiting for some answers, hands on his hips.
Any opportunity the group may have had to engage in other activities without being seen is quickly exiled when the nervous priest's eyes turn upon them as Gack begins interacting with them.
"Oh! Oh, please, I need actors!" the young man rushes over, wringing his hands, obviously harried.
"I need a Sarenrae that can really impress the audience! Someone dextrous enough to artfully dodge the Rovagug puppet's attacks and smart enough to know the divine litanies! Just, oh, goodness me, I need a performance to impress!" Shaking with an almost nervous energy, he continues, "Surely you can carry on such a performance?" He looks to Charity with a desperate hope in his eyes.
"And the rest of your friends can work together to portray Rovagug, right? It seems like a large, bulky, nonsensical machine, but, oh, me, my, I do believe it's not so hopeless! Anyone can handle it with a bit of care!"
The young man sweats as he awaits a response, eyes wide and a bit glassy from the stress. "Please say you'll help! It's past noon and my actors aren't here!" His voice goes a bit shrill towards the end before he remembers where he is and tries to tone it down.
"Please!" he urges, this time in a more quiet tone, "Help me!"
"Oh, thank you, thank you," the priest says fervently. "Blessed be the light of Sarenrae for she works in wondrous ways!" Apparently half the group's consent is plenty for him -- he begins ushering the party towards the contraption and begins explaining what the expectations for the performance are.
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Tofang looks at Styrian and starts smiling!
"Oh yes, you bet this is the right opportunity! I am an engineer! This is a machine! So great!!!"
He runs to priest and speaks up.
"Hey, hey! Of course noticed that you are in trouble. We can help! We are experts in handling machines ... or so I hope. I also know a lot about religion! Maybe Sarenrae is better than the best! " he says a little hesitantly hoping he did not promise too much.
"Well, we will ... you know ... we will all help ... I hope!"
Tofang looks at his comrades and starts with them together to play the roles of these two gods in an epic battle!
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Really informative Tofang! That will help a lot!
Watching Tofang and Styrian begin to make the mechanical Rovagug look suitably menacing, Daiko grips his newly bought red and gold robe tight as he strides confidently forwards.
he yells to get the crowds attention. The Rough Beast stirs! He looks around the square. And the cowardly Asmodeus and Zon-Kuthon and the rest are not here this time. Daiko pushes a moment for the crowd to boo.
Then the tengu pulls out his scimitar. But no matter! For as the sun always rises, I shall always stand against you! As Daiko advances, he begins hurling inventive a against the beast in not just Common, but a blend of Ignan, Auran, and Aquan as well. (the pidgin sentences don’t exactly make sense, but he hopes the mix of strange condiments and sounds seem appropriately intimidating). The tengu ducks and dives as ‘Rovagug’’s arms lash out at him. Whenever his blade brushes against the metal creation, as Faiko draws it away he channels a bit of Air into the sword, causing it to spark.
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Never Rovagug! Daiko cries. He feigns distress as severla of the machine's arms close in on him, but continues: The light will conitue to shine for all of my children. But if you like it so little, you can go to a place that you won't see it!
The tengu makes sure his sword chops into the sandy earth. Glancing over at Cherrie as she perfomrs, he whispers *psst* A circle in the dirt. Around the machine.
Styrian gets a fairly good idea how the machine operates and gives the others a brief primer on it. Tofang, happily, is able to determine the appropriate lines and phrases that are spoken in the tales about the fight they’re supposed to be representing.
Daiko takes on the form of Sarenrae – the crowd is obviously a bit surprised by the choice in actor, but it doesn’t take long for them to truly get into it, oohing and ahhing at the appropriate moments when he begins to nimbly move about the stage. The music doesn’t hurt, either, as it really brings the mood home.
When Gack finally cries out, there are shouts of dismay from the viewers as people visibly recoil from the representation of Rovagug that advances on creaking, spidery legs.
The show is a brand new spectacle for sure, but a very well received one. At least one person in the crowd is moved to tears. Behind you all, the priest heaves a sigh of relief; he chose professional actors, thank the goddess.
A woman steps forward, applauding. If clergy were meant to be the embodiment of their deity, then this woman is a living effigy of Sarenrae, her gold and white vestments aflame with vitality that seems to radiate from her dark, elegantly coiffured hair via the golden pins and combs that hold it all in place. Her deep bronze features are elegantly made up, kohl framing an already relentless brown-eyed stare over high cheekbones; her voice is a tightly controlled flame of passion. "So you're the outsiders who got into the Contraption, hmm? I admit, it's not often our foreign guests are quite so bold. Or silly. But boldness and just a little silliness in the name of the Dawnflower go a long way, I find. I trust, however, this wasn't done entirely because of your undying love for her. So, speak."