You have been stationed at the Grand Lodge in Absalom, awaiting assignment for a mission of utmost importance. Things finally seemed in motion when Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng sent out a summons for available agents. Specialized in the history of Absalom, Dreng is known for putting off-duty agents to work on sundry tasks when he finds them resting within the city’s limits.
Coming to the meeting place—an odd choice of venue, as it is a street corner far from the Grand Lodge—a lone beggar garbed in baggy robes approaches. The only figure visible in the constant drizzle, the beggar sticks out his hands for currency.
Have you any coin to spare, fine folk?
The question hangs in the air for only a scant moment before the figure pulls back his hood to reveal the wizened face of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng. He gives a crooked smile, soaked head to toe from his unprotected time in the rain. His clothes smell faintly of cabbage.
Sorry about that, he says with a wink. “I always like to play a little joke on agents when I stumble across them during my jaunts into town. Now, why did I summon you fine folk here again…? Dreng shakes his head from side to side, as though trying to knock water out of his ears, despite the constant downpour.
Ah yes, the Wounded Wisp! I’m undercover now and can’t stray far from the site I’m watching, but I need someone to retrieve a package for me from that fine establishment. It’s among Absalom’s most storied taverns, you see, and one that holds a special place of privilege in the Society’s lore as the place where the organization began. Well, I could drone on and on about it, but standing out in the rain is doing none of us any favors.
As if anticipating agreement, the bedraggled venture-captain produces a small slip of folded paper from one of his many stitched pockets. Dreng quickly shows a glimpse of the page’s contents: a map detailing the location of the Wounded Wisp bar.
The bartender is a woman by the name of Heryn Gale, a fine lady who came to own the Wisp after the passing of her father from—oh, bah, it’s really getting too cold for me to give a proper history lesson! If you could just go to the Wisp, and tell Heryn you’re there to pick up my parcel, it would be most appreciated. I’ll be around here for several more hours at least.
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That´s a good disguise I must say. I’ll never realize who where you if you hadn´t reveal yourself, says Guinfa genuinely admiring the captain´s ability to fool people.
Then he picks the map and details the task at hand; Go to the bar, talk with Heryn to pick your parcel and give it back to you. What kind of package is to be recovered with risk to your cover?
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"It's...a history lesson as an introduction to the Society. Yes. Yes, that seems very fair!" Says an exceptionally short Gnome, whose thin, somewhat statuesque features nonetheless make her seem more stately (or perhaps it's the way she carries herself as though she need not prove how important she is), sounding first as though she is trying to convince herself of what she's saying, but ending as though she's genuinely convinced.
She cuts a strange figure, to be honest: Her skin and hair are rather drab for a Gnome, but the enigmatic glint in her eye, almost as though she had liquid opal for vitreous humor, somehow makes up for it. Hanging by her side is a heavy, dark, carefully-bound book of fine and exotic materials, like that of a rather seasoned wizard, but unlike most any wizard, she is weighted down in scale mail and heavy shield; no article of faith does she carry, but sewn, stuffed, and otherwise bedecked into her clothes and armor are numerous tiny trinkets, tassels, and charms of unguessable significance.
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A small dark-violet blue bird lands on the window ledge of the nearby building. It has a bright yellow bill. Remarkably, it appears to speak. "Dreng, is that you? Do you know that you smell, old man? Unbelievable you and those disguises. I can help show them the way to the Wisp...I think. I find that my memory is full of holes sometimes. In any case, it doesn't sound like such a difficult task. Is Heryn expecting us?"
The bird hops about, excitedly. "Gerald, where are you? Come, my boy. Meet the others. We have a task, and you are to accompany us." The bird looks up and around expectantly.
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A few seconds later a half-orc in armor and with a greatsword sling on his back comes around to join the group. he sounds quite frustrated as he speaks. "I told you, my name is Grax. It is not this 'Gerald.'" He rolls his eyes.
The warrior sports arcane-looking tattoos on both arms and on half of his face. He mutters to himself "Gerald is no name for a warrior."
That´s a good disguise I must say. I’ll never realize who where you if you hadn´t reveal yourself, says Guinfa genuinely admiring the captain´s ability to fool people.
Then he picks the map and details the task at hand; Go to the bar, talk with Heryn to pick your parcel and give it back to you. What kind of package is to be recovered with risk to your cover?
The short ifrit man, bright, mutlicolored clothing clashing harshly with his red skin, flips the man a gold piece before he reveals himself. Though clearly not a native Taldane speaker, he still speaks at a rapid pace.
"What'cha lookin' for here, anyway?"
Before you judge, despite my current attire, I’m still a man of taste. The parcel is actually a special vintage of wine from the cellar of the Wounded Wisp. I’ve been sampling their finer wines in descending order of bottling. I dare not disappear from my current role in this district, but I also would appreciate some comfort items. After all, I doubt anyone would judge a supposed beggar sipping from a bottle of wine.
Rgulblux looks over Guinfa's shoulder at the map, then snorts "This is what I signed up for with the Pathfinder's? A glorified delivery boy?!?" The large half-orc turns and begins to walk away towards the Wounded Wisp's location, but hesitates when he hears the mesmerist ask a question.
Dreng’s eyes narrow, displaying a ferocity that even his shoddy appearance can’t mask.
You signed up with the Pathfinders to cooperate with fellow members and superior officers. When you achieve some status in the organization, by all means, request a task of “importance”. But for now you’ll do as you’re told and thank me for the opportunity. Pathfinders solve problems. I’ve a mighty thirst, so solve my problem.
"It's...a history lesson as an introduction to the Society. Yes. Yes, that seems very fair!" Says an exceptionally short Gnome, whose thin, somewhat statuesque features nonetheless make her seem more stately (or perhaps it's the way she carries herself as though she need not prove how important she is), sounding first as though she is trying to convince herself of what she's saying, but ending as though she's genuinely convinced.
That’s the spirit! I’m glad you appreciate the storied past of our esteemed organization. You’ll do nicely.
"Nonsense. You live in Absolom now. Gerald is far more civilized, and it shall suit you."
The violet bird hops about and then seems to bow. "Ah, speaking of civilized, I forget myself. I am Javon, and this is Gerald. He is my guardian and porter."
The Venture Captain seems taken aback at the bird’s introduction. Yes, well, um, good to see you again. Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten our last meeting. Now, if there's nothing else, I'll be on my way...
The Wounded Wisp was a bar once frequented by the original members of the Pathfinder Society before the Society was even formed. Inside the Wisp, acquaintances would share stories about their adventurous exploits with one another.
Above spoiler, plus: Many volumes of the Pathfinder Chronicles came together under the Wisp’s roof. Famous Pathfinders like Eando Kline and the Seeker Osprey often stopped by for a drink while they relaxed in Absalom between assignments. Though not officially affiliated with the Society, the bar maintains good relations with Pathfinders, offering discounts and prompt service. The owners have always kept themselves and the Wisp afloat through the generosity of Society agents who spend coin at the establishment.
Above spoilers, plus: Selmius Foster was one of the founding members of the Pathfinder Society, known to have frequented the Wisp often and occasionally taken up residence in a spare room between his travels. His celebrated exploits first appeared in Volume 1 of the Pathfinder Chronicles.
Above spoilers, plus: Following the death of Selmius Foster on the island of Bhopan, his assistant Adolphus made several donations to maintain one of his mentor’s favorite sites. The exact arrangement between Adolphus and the owners of the Wisp was never disclosed, but it is said that some of this gold came from the same fortune that Adolphus used to found the Pathfinder lodge in Quantium.
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"Ah, now who hasn't heard of the Wounded Wisp? It's where your-OUR little Society incubated among its destined founders 'till they finally hatched it among many tankards of drink and tales of adventure into the Unknown and Forbidden places of the world. To be clear, the Wisp isn't part of the Society, but we can trust it to be a friendly establishment - and likely much finer-quality than judging a book by its cover may suggest. I'm certain we can expect a discount. Some of you may have heard of Eando Kline, or the great mage known as Osprey - they drink here. One of the founders - Selmius Foster, my sources tell me - even had a room here...which begs the question: Were it still there, what might yet be inside it?" Her eyes gleam with curiosity and mischief.
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Rgulblux takes a few deep breathes to contain his rage at the truth in the Captain's words. Then with a sideways, smirk, "Yes, I suppose I have not yet proved my worth to the Society yet. I'd be honored to carry out such a task for you. Besides, I've always wanted to visit the Wounded Wisp, have an ale and perhaps join in a song of glory."
"Ahh, the Wounded Wisp tavern! Yes, I do remember that. I've been there once before...I think." Javon looks down, seeming like he's trying to remember.
"It would be wonderful to return and see the place! A bottle of wine, eh? And if we are to bring it to you, where can we find you, Dreng?"
Oh, I'll be around here or there. Don't worry about it, just get the bottle.
If Dreng is worried about you being able to locate him, he doesn't show it.
Rgulblux takes a few deep breathes to contain his rage at the truth in the Captain's words. Then with a sideways, smirk, "Yes, I suppose I have not yet proved my worth to the Society yet. I'd be honored to carry out such a task for you. Besides, I've always wanted to visit the Wounded Wisp, have an ale and perhaps join in a song of glory."
There you go! Quick learner, you are--there's hope for you yet.
He claps Rgulbux on the back good-naturedly, smiling.
Well, what are you all waiting for? I'm getting parched standing here talking, which is a cruel twist of irony in this downpour. Go get that bottle!
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Wine. We´re going like errand boys for a bottle of wine!
We´re waiting for nothing, we´ll depart inmediately. After saying that Guinfa starts walking away, slow enough so someone who ones the right direction can catch him and tell where to go.
Once they're far away to not be heard by the captain, guinfa turns to his companios to whisper one suggestion. I´ve been told Captain Dreng has no taste for wines, no matter but he tries to pretend. he lies to his companions. We can go to a nearby tavern to buy one, stay warm for some time to feign we had go to that Wisp tavern and come back to give it to him without putting ourselves in any complication. What do you think?
Once they're far away to not be heard by the captain, guinfa turns to his companios to whisper one suggestion. I´ve been told Captain Dreng has no taste for wines, no matter but he tries to pretend. he lies to his companions.
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As soon as Guinfa mentions leaving immediately, Naran is off at a near-sprint, somewhat surprisingly in approximately the right direction.
"Let's go!
After a few moments, when he realizes the others are continuing at a more reasonable pace, he stops to catch his breath and wait for them to catch up.
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The bird flaps around the group as they walk away from the Venture-Captain. It glides in front of Guinfa. "Really? Where did you hear that? If he doesn't like wine, then you might be right." He pauses for a moment before continuing as he flaps forward. "Ah, but he'll eventually learn we never picked up the package, even if he can't tell the difference."
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"Javon, he's lying." The half-orc rolls his eyes and then peers sharply at Guinfa. "If we're going to agree to this errand, we actually try to do it. We gave our word, and it's not even hard. We go to a tavern and pick up a bottle of wine. We don't even have to pay for it."
He looks up at the violet bird and sighs. "Stupid bird."
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Lying? Me? says Guinfa trying to put an innocent face. Your words are a little harsh. But I´ll take no offense, having a bird around you misleading your name should we harsh too. Despite his words, he doesn´t look to take any offense, like if lie and sometimes being cath is part of life.
But your words look wise; he´ll eventually know it and we don´t have to pay for the bottle. Let´s go. He ends with a smile.
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A surly-looking dwarf with scars and tattoos stands around silently. He seems to be protecting a skittish-looking gnome, perhaps as a bodyguard.
The gnome speaks up apprehensively.
"Why would we need to find this bottle? Is it poison? A trick? A masterful plot by Auntie Baltwin to get back at me? We need to be careful!"
Using the map provided by Dreng, it's not difficult to locate the Wounded Wisp in the Foreign Quarter, close to the Grand Lodge.
The smell of smoke and spilled ale assails the senses in this wide-open area. Walls of dark-stained wood make up the sides of the Wounded Wisp, while well-used wooden tables are spread throughout the space. A raised area in the back of the establishment houses several additional tables and eating areas for groups seeking more than just a good drink. An austere bar supported by kegs instead of wooden panels commands the northern end of the room. A stained-glass cabinet stands behind the bar, its dark panes cracked in several spots, yet not so opaque as to conceal the several dozen types of hard liquor within.
Several patrons, some openly displaying Wayfinders, drink and converse merrily.
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As they walk toward the tavern, Guinfa realizes the dwarf bodyguard could be less than it appears. He let pass some seconds before moving towards Copperpot; [little]I like your bodyguard. A lot[/little] he whispers to him. Mr. Copperpot, he continues in a normal voice, if Captain Dreng is going to drink it I doubt it´s a poison. A trick to force us to do something could be, from what I heard of him. And I really have no idea of who´s Auntie Baldwin.
Once they´re inside the tavern, Guinfa will go to the bar and ask to see Heryn Gale.
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As they reach the tavern, Grax turns back to hold the door open and he's shocked when the dwarf appears as a translucent image. He looks around and then back at Alexis "Is..is that you?" He catches the gnome's eye and then nods. "Ah, yes. Come on in everyone." he allows the dwarf and the gnome to walk inside.
Javon lands on Grax's shoulder and the pair enter the tavern. Grax looks around, seeing the different Wayfinders. "Well, at least it seems we can get a decent drink here." He goes up to order an ale, while Guinfa asks about their contact.
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Mr. Copperpot clears his throat uncomfortably as he realizes a few of his companions have seen through his illusion. Nevertheless, he maintains the image using the effortless trickery of the gnomes, glad that it has fooled at least a few.
"Umm...don't say anything!" he whispers to Guinfa.
"Well, perhaps not poison, but certainly tricks! We need to be on our guard...there are always dangers lurking around every corner!"
A weary familiar peeks from his bag, looking exhausted, as if it has not slept in days.
Seated together at one table is an excitable halfling woman who speaks energetically to some fresh-faced recruits. Upon your arrival, she looks up and waves to Guinfa, Copperpot, and Copperpot's "bodyguard".
A few tables down and seated by himself is a well-dressed Keleshite man, slowly sipping a glass of wine. He occasionally rolls his eyes at a pair of half-orcs near him, who eat, drink, and boast loudly.
At the bar, a very busy-looking woman gives you a cordial smile and greeting, beginning to dipense drinks to Grax and any others who order one. She also delivers drinks to those sitting at the tables, as well as occasionally offering advice or light admonishment to the wait staff.
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Grax sits and smiles at the woman places a mug of foamy ale in front of him. He drinks half the mug and puts it back down with a satisfying thud. "Well, I can see why this place is so popular!" He spots the other half-orcs and his smile turns into a mask of wariness. Unlike those across the room, Grax appears fairly quiet and reserved.
As the woman passes by another time, Grax calls out to her. "Ah, miss? Do you know where we can find Heryn Gale? She's expecting us."
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Javon hops from Grax's shoulder to an empty chair. "Ah, it is wonderful to be back here! Yes, I remember this place! I was here a few times before my accident, Gerald." Javon glances over and spots Janira Gavix.
"My word, that halfling seems familiar." The bird scratches itself with its beak. "Blast this curse! My memory is full of holes, Gerald! Like rotten maggot-filled cheese!" You swear the bird stomps around on the chair back in frustration.
The busy woman pauses a moment, smiling at Grax.
I do know where you can find Heryn--right in front of you, the bartender says, laughing mirthfully and patting you on the shoulder.
So Captain Dreng sent you lot, huh? Have a drink on the house--I need to wait for someone to take over for me, then I'll help you fetch your bottle.
She hurries off, considering the matter settled.
Meanwhile, the Keleshite chuckles at Alexis' query.
I know a great many things, I suppose. You've a keen eye, but I'm fine--I just have to question some of these newer Pathfinders who think they can punch their way out of any situation. Anyway, Aram bin Kaleel, at your service. Please, have a seat, the gentleman gestures to the chair opposite him.
Have you heard the latest news about Sir Reinhart of Kenabres?
Aram bin Kaleel is the owner and proprietor of Kaleel’s Curiosities, a shop in the Coins district.
Sir Reinhart of Kenabres is a Mendevian Crusader who is allegedly going to attempt the Test of the Starstone.
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Not knowing anything about what Alexis and the Keleshite are talking about, Guinfa decides go to talk with an old friend.
Well met Janira. How´s your life?
Mine had become... he thinks a little about how he can describe it, interesting. Yes, that´s the word.
One day I´m needed for going to the other part of the world to protect some goblins, the other day I´m needed as an errand boy. Is usual to alternate important missions with menial tasks? I must say no one told me nothing about this.
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Mr. Copperpot takes a seat at one of the booths, and his silent but surly-looking dwarven companion sits next to him, with the halfling next to the window and the dwarf at the aisle.
The dwarf doesn't seem to say anything, but the gnome doesn't address him, either.
"Janira couldn't be in on a conspiracy, could she?" he mutters to his familiar. "What do you think, Ripley? Do you believe it, or not?"
The familiar shakes its weary head.
"Very well, then. I shall venture to wave at Janira. But watch her reaction! We knew her before, and she seemed okay, but perhaps it is an impostor Janira!"
Mr. Copperpot waits until no one is watching, then peeks his head over the booth and gives the halfling a small finger roll wave.
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"Then, perhaps you need a drink, Javon." Grax asks Heryn to bring a glass of wine for the bird and then relaxes back with another sip of ale. He glances at the halfling that Mr. Copperpot is waving to. "Who is that? You know her?"
A glass of wine is dropped off at the table and the violet bird dips his beak into it.
"Very well, then. I shall venture to wave at Janira. But watch her reaction! We knew her before, and she seemed okay, but perhaps it is an impostor Janira!"
Mr. Copperpot waits until no one is watching, then peeks his head over the booth and gives the halfling a small finger roll wave.
"Then, perhaps you need a drink, Javon." Grax asks Heryn to bring a glass of wine for the bird and then relaxes back with another sip of ale. He glances at the halfling that Mr. Copperpot is waving to. "Who is that? You know her?"
A glass of wine is dropped off at the table and the violet bird dips his beak into it.
Janira smiles warmly, emphatically waving in a come-here-and-sit gesture. She chuckles, then turns back to Guinfa.
[
Well met Janira. How´s your life?
Mine had become... he thinks a little about how he can describe it, interesting. Yes, that´s the word. One day I´m needed for going to the other part of the world to protect some goblins, the other day I´m needed as an errand boy. Is usual to alternate important missions with menial tasks? I must say no one told me nothing about this.
Silly, wonder why they won’t come sit with us? Anyway, don’t be so sure that your mission is unimportant. A good Pathfinder can find opportunity in any situation. And if Venture Captain Dreng sent you, well, there’s often more to him than meets the eye. Of course, if something does come up, you better not hesitate to ask for my help!
Alexis joins Aram's table.
"No, I'm afraid not. Current events are something like raindrops in the ocean, really - much more important to know what's at the bottom!"
Quite right--I myself am more inclined to linger upon the influences of history. Still, we can’t be blind to what’s happening around us, can we? They say this Sir Reinhart wants to test his mettle with the Starstone. It’s a shame, really. There’s only one way that will end, no matter how prepared he believes himself to be. As for preparation--are you outfitted for any unforseen challenges that may bar your path? In our line of work, we are often tested ourselves by deadly traps, swarms of venomous creatures, and all manner foul creature, humanoid or otherwise.
Rgulblux walks over to the half-orcs. "I hear the sounds of adventure here! Tell me a good story so that I can chant your names with the drums of war when inspiration is needed."
Pull up a chair, we only got one rule to sit with us--the first drink’s on Garl! The female half-orc says, pointing to her companion. Sure enough, he signals for the barkeep to send you a pint.
Then he claps you on the back with a meaty hand and looks you up and down: Hmm, you’re a singer? Me’n Shrade love singers. One time, this bloke tried to strum some damn lute during battle. Shrade bashed it over his head and knocked out his two front teeth. After that, the fellow was whistling every time he tried to sing. A ha ha HA!
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He glances at the halfling that Mr. Copperpot is waving to. [b]"Who is that? You know her?"
Mr. Copperpot looks suspiciously at Grax. "Why do you want to know?!" the gnome whispers. "Did someone ask you to ask me that? How long have you been a Pathfinder, anyway? Have you ever dealt with the Shadow Lodge or anything?"
Turning back to his weary familiar, Ripley, Mr. Copperpot says "I am convinced that really is Janira, but one can never be too sure. I need to study more about doppelgangers...really anyone could be a doppelganger, like that guy asking me questions right now."
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"A Doppleganger? That's impossible!" Javon lifts his head from the glass of wine. "And I have been a Pathfinder for years! I was quite accomplished and well known, but...well, something happened and I can't even remember what? The Grand Lodge and the Church of Nethys attempted to help, but no one seems to be able to break this curse. Gerald here was assigned to help guard me and get me back into sorts. I'm the Pathfinder. he is merely my guardian and porter. Though, the Lodge was wanting him to join as well..."
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Silly, wonder why they won’t come sit with us? Anyway, don’t be so sure that your mission is unimportant. A good Pathfinder can find opportunity in any situation. And if Venture Captain Dreng sent you, well, there’s often more to him than meets the eye. Of course, if something does come up, you better not hesitate to ask for my help!
Guinfa shrug his shoulders I don´t know why. It´s the first time I work with them, albeit I heard stories about Mr. Copperpot...
Thenks for your advice about Venture Captain Dreng, I´ll keep an eye in case there´s anything untold in his mission. Guinfa smiles as he thinks in how his mission can twist away. [b]I hope you´re right and this becomes an interesting day.
As he talks Guinfa keeps an eye, and an ear, on what happens to his companions at the other table. Who knows if the twist of fate will come from there.
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"Quite right--I myself am more inclined to linger upon the influences of history. Still, we can’t be blind to what’s happening around us, can we? They say this Sir Reinhart wants to test his mettle with the Starstone. It’s a shame, really. There’s only one way that will end, no matter how prepared he believes himself to be. As for preparation--are you outfitted for any unforseen challenges that may bar your path? In our line of work, we are often tested ourselves by deadly traps, swarms of venomous creatures, and all manner foul creature, humanoid or otherwise."
"ANY unforeseen? That would be definitively impossible - but, Alexis hefts her large grimoire. "I know much, and am ready to know much, much more. It is said that those so properly enlightened always live minutes ahead of others*."
"Bartender! Can you make a Grey Irriseni?"
Captain Dreng never disappoints, Janira says matter-of-factly to Guinfa.
"SING?!? ME?!? No, no. I chant to the rhythym of the drums! And strike fear in the hearts of our enemies... although I do enjoy a good tune and an ale... as long as the singer is pretty... and a girl." Rgulblux boasts as he pulls out his drum and beats a short cadence with his hands.
The twins smile broadly, banging their mugs on the table in time to the drum and sending ale flying in all directions.
"ANY unforeseen? That would be definitively impossible - but, Alexis hefts her large grimoire. "I know much, and am ready to know much, much more. It is said that those so properly enlightened always live minutes ahead of others*."
"Bartender! Can you make a Grey Irriseni?"
Aram nods approvingly at Alexis' words as a teenage boy with unkempt hair takes over for Heryn, looking perplexed as he tries to make the drink. It looks like Heryn's relief is here, so you'd best finish your task swiftly. I don't know how well this place can get on without her. If you ever have any mysteries that need solving, come find me at my shop. I'm at 34 Wicker Street in the Coins.
Sure enough, Heryn approaches you, looking busy and tired. You lot ready?
When you're ready she leads you into the cellar and gestures towards a massive crack in the floor with a wooden plank set over it as a makeshift bridge.
Take care with that and it'll hold--probably. Heryn steps back and watches to see what you do.
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Grax carefully tries to navigate the plank and make it to the other side. "What happened down here, an earthquake?" He looks around the cellar.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Grax begins to test plank, but it groans ominously when the tip of his boot touches the wood. He doesn't think it'll hold his weight with his gear and armor on...
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Mr. Copperpot looks skeptical of the shaky bridge, the barmaid that led them down here, and even his fellow Pathfinders.
"All is as I suspected," he says. "Darkened back rooms, conspiracies, and secret tasks! We must take care...a plot looms around every corner!"
"Ironside, why don't you go ahead and make sure it's safe," he says to the silent, surly-looking dwarf, who walks quietly across the plank to the other side.
"He's a mute," the sorcerer says of the dwarf. "But legendary in his ability to punch you right where it hurts, I assure you of that!" he says by way of warning. "He owes me a life debt, so it's best not to mess with me!" he says overly-loud, just in case.