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"Well, it looks like we'll be adventuring together after all!' Ulena smiles at Tagir and Bishop, then nods her head toward Dragos and Evariel while waving goodbye to the rest of the Pathfinders waiting in the lodge.
"Every assignment I've been on so far has been more exciting than the last, I hope this one is no different. I wonder what it'll be."
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Dragos had been dozing in the corner, his wide-brimmed hat lowered over his eyes. At his name being called, he jerks up, still slightly groggy but quickly awakening. "It's a job, is it? Should be fun." Looking to his new companions, he bows while sweeping his hat off to one side. "Dragos Albescu, at your service."
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"I take it none of us know why we have been called yet? I guess we will soon."
"Well it's easy to see why she and I have been called," he says, indicating Ulena. An elf of such delicate features that his gender is hard to distinguish at first, Evariel wears flowing violet robes with reinforced cloth down the front and back-- scant protection against a sword but might block a glancing arrow, or an especially weak dagger. Wizardry requires such precise gestures that anything heavier might interfere. He wears a jeweled ring on one finger, and walks with an ornately carved wooden staff. "As for you others, luck of the pull I suppose. But for what, I couldn't say."
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You're one of those elves, huh? "Now, now, Evariel. Don't be so down on yourself. I'm sure the rumors about Ambrus sending elves on all the highest fatality missions are just that, rumors."
Tagir watches Ulena out the corner of his eye, waiting to see how she responds to the exchange.
"You've got the right of it there, Dragos. Let's enjoy ourselves. We might die any minute, so we better live every second!"
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Ulena raises a single eyebrow at Evariel and has sudden flashbacks from back home, she frowns but keeps her tongue. "I've worked to get where I am, as I'm sure the others have as well, and we were called here because our talents are recognized." She turns to Targir still frowning and shaking her head.
"I've been out three times without any casualties so far, and I've never found reason to think my life was being risked without a good cause."
She finds herself hoping her mission is not a diplomatic one, since it seems her new found party can hardly help from stinging itself. Shelyn guide me. She prays silently.
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Bishop smiles at the pompous elf's answer. He had not been around too many elves in his time but had heard others remark about their haughtiness towards non-elves.
"I would agree picking you both seems like a wise decision on captain's part. Especially one as gray and studied as yourself. Why I bet you were likely chosen for your immaculate notes it is always important to bring along a good scribe for any task we of the Society are sent on. Explore, Report and Cooperate." Turning to look again at Ulena and Tagir. "While death could be around every corner I'd doubt we are in any sort of worry. Probably just deliver a message and be asked to return with the response."
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Evariel blinks. "Grey? I'm barely a hundred!" Then, remembering that humans don't live so very long, he adds, "By our standards, I'm still a-- well, not so experienced as all that. Only just completed my schooling, and a few Society missions. The Elders say it's good to work with people of other races."
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A young boy enters the room and nervously clears his throat. "E-e-e-excuse me, um, Pathfinders?" he calls out, immediately looking at his feet at the question's conclusion. Building his courage back up, he continues. "V-v-venture-Captain Brackett is waiting for you in near the front of the lodge!" His message delivered, he hastily turns tail, stumbling a little, and runs back the way he came.
As you all approach, Venture-Captain Brackett sits at a narrow table in the grand entryway at the Pathfinder Society’s lodge in Almas. This resplendent marble chamber, once the vestibule of a cathedral of Aroden, is now a well-stocked library. Carvings on the walls depict Pathfinder agents exploring forgotten ruins and facing fearsome beasts. Trade Prince Aaqir al’Hakam, seated opposite the venture-captain, reviews a stack of papers.
The trade prince speaks first. “Welcome, Pathfinders. Take a seat.” He turns toward several vacant chairs. “You will be departing for Druma tomorrow morning. I’ve arranged for all of your travel expenses. The journey will take you from Almas up through the foothills of southeastern Isger, and then from the settlement of Dustspawn into the borders of Druma.” He glances at the stack of papers in his hands. “These documents will handle any issues with your lodgings or questions from local government officials.”
Venture-Captain Brackett nods to the Trade Prince before interjecting. “Yes, the trade prince has seen to your travel, and for that the Society is appreciative. Your mission involves entering the nation of Druma, specifically its capital city of Kerse. There, you’ll meet up with an acquaintance of the Society who has offered to assist us in executing this unique mission. As you may be aware, terrorists from the Aspis Consortium attacked the Society’s annual Convocation. An anonymous but reliable informant within the Consortium that we’ve taken to calling Three Rings has pointed us in the direction of the financier for this dastardly attack—a Consortium silver agent named Myrosype.”
“The city of Alabastrine is the epitome of Drumish wealth. It was built to accommodate an influx of refugees that never came to Druma in the wake of Aroden’s death. The resident Kalistocrats maintain the city in perfect condition, even its empty properties. Even Alabastrine’s method of selecting leaders revolves around wealth. Every five years, Druma sets up an auction for control of each of the city’s five districts. The latest cycle of bidding is about to commence, and Myrosype has positioned herself to claim a majority of Alabastrine’s districts. She may very well have the resources to claim the entire city for herself.”
The trade prince adds, “We want you to attend the auction, which has been arranged by the best contact we could find for the job. Some of you may know him. His name is Temel Passad, and he can provide you with more information when you arrive in Kerse. Once there, do your best to convince the participants in the auction to overtake Myrosype’s bids. Your actions in this event may not be a direct recompense for her participation in the attack against the Society, but trust me when I say that striking her in the wallet will be a precise and worthwhile blow.”
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"Hm. Was this the reason she financed that attack? I can see how convincing others to outbid her would Rob her of control, but if you're looking to hit her in the wallet, wouldn't she need to buy the districts first?"
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The presiding state philosophy of Druma is the Prophecies of Kalistrade. This philosophy promotes the acquisition of material wealth and the avoidance of physical contact. Its adherents, called Kalistocrats, wear white clothing, with a strong affinity for long gloves to prevent physical contact with others.
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The actual government of Druma is an organization known as the Resplendent Bureaucracy. This group handles the day-to-day administration of the nation. Druma’s military force is called the Mercenary League. Its members are known as ‘Blackjackets’ in honor of the black uniforms they wear.
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The capital of Druma is the city of Kerse, perhaps the most opulent city in the Inner Sea. Secret stations of spellcasters provide constant magical scrying across the breadth of the city. Individual estates maintain their own hired spellcasters for similar purposes. The widespread presence of magical wards, along with the rapid response times from Mercenary League forces, ensures that there is almost no crime within the borders of Kerse.
Trade Prince al"Hakam addresses Evariel. "We could try to hit her after she owns the districts, but we have good reason to be more proactive. The ongoing civil strife in Cheliax is likely to force Isger to increase their trade relations with Druma. Should this occur, Alabastrine would undoubtedly become a hub of commerce, which would benefit the district owners immensely. Given what Myrosype has already proven she is willing to finance, we can’t afford to let her gain any more wealth and influence than she already has.”
Hearing Ulena's inquiry about Druma, the Venture-Captain chimes in. “The Society rarely ventures into Druma. The resident ruling caste—followers of a philosophy known as the Prophecies of Kalistrade—has shown little interest in engaging with the Society. Druma is perhaps the richest nation in Golarion and their military, the Mercenary League, is one of the best trained forces in the world. We’ve had few interactions with Druma, and we’d prefer not to earn their ire, so be on your best behavior.”
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"The political maneuvering seems best." Ulena replies to the Trade Prince. "Lack of bloodshed, a simple deflection by influence. Something Myrosype can't really fight against if she loses, but doesn't upend the political structure of a nation we barely consider an ally."
Knowing they're likely to learn more when they arrive in the city, Ulena saves any other questions she has and checks her gear, making sure she's prepared for the journey.
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Tagir suddenly focuses on Captain Brackett, as if his thoughts had just been elsewhere. "Druma, eh? Now that's the type of place where a man can put up his feet and enjoy life.
"I've heard odd stories about the place, though. Just rumors really. Like if you stick out your arm to shake hands, they'll cut the hand right off! Anybody been there before and know the actual facts, by chance?"
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Dragos grins at Tagir's question. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about it too much. They avoid physical contact, but most of them wear long gloves for that purpose - doesn't seem like they'd bother if they could just cut off the hand of anyone who offers to shake!"
To the Venture-Captain and the Trade Prince, Dragos asks "Happy to help, this sounds like an interesting venture. Is there any particular gear or equipment you think we might need before heading out?"
"The Prophecies of Kalistrade are a set of documents that outline a philosophy focused around the principles of lawfully acquiring as much wealth as possible and abstaining from material comforts. Followers of the prophecies call themselves Kalistocrats. Their philosophy holds a status in Druma akin to an official religion. I cannot speak to those rumors, but it seems like a highly unlikely occurrence," Brackett explains.
Al'Hakam fields the next question. "As I explained previously, your travel has been funded by my generosity. I'm not going to promise that I have everything you may need, but I do not foresee you needing anything beyond your standard gear. Feel free to make any additional preparations you feel necessary, however."
Upon the completion of the Trade Prince's explanation, VC Brackett rises. "Are there any other questions?" He meets everyone's gaze, waiting for a response.
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Ulena laughs as Tagir speaks. "You might want to watch your hands then." She says playfully, then immediately blushes.
"A-anyway, Dragos is right, the long gloves and the white clothing will give them away, should be easy enough not to offend them. I'm ready to leave when the rest of you are. It'll be exciting to see a new place!"
"Aside from Temel Passad, the contact I mentioned earlier, we have no information that would lead us to believe there are specific groups wishing to support or undermine Myrosype. As a natural part of the procedure, however, all other bidders will be jockeying for command of as many districts as they can afford. I'm sure you will come up with some way to use this to your advantage. Temel Passad will have more information on the process for you when you arrive," explains al'Hakam.
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"Woah. WOAH! Wait a minute, here. First off, you say they go through all the trouble of getting rich the hard way? And then they don't even get to enjoy being rich?"
Tagir shakes his head, then paces in a small circle before continuing, "Now, I'm not saying I don't believe you or anything." Yes, I am. "But my last mission was just hazing hidden behind some stupid errand for that dotty old Drandle."
"That's an awful good question, Bishop!" Tagir slaps the rogue on the back, "Ulena and I should probably scout the place once we arrive. Buy the locals a few drinks, see what they know." And see how well our knight holds her liquor.
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"Me? Well I've never really tried getting information from a person before. But I suppose it shouldn't be too hard."
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Evariel's chest swells. "It's settled then. I'll talk to the locals and find out more. It may be we can find some allies and make this easier."
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"Pathfinders. I trust that you will do your best to strike a blow against Myrosype and maintain what it means to be part of our Society. May the wind be at your backs." Seeing as you all have no more questions that require their attention, the Venture Captain and Trade Prince bid you a good day. Shortly after you rise, a new crop of agents takes your seats and another briefing commences.
The crack of dawn comes all to early. The warming rays of the sun strike your backs as you board a river ferry on the Andoshen River. You are brought upstream, taking the western break towards the River Foam. After a few days travel, you all disembark from your leisurely voyage and trek through the southern foothills of Isger and eventually reaching the town of Dustpawn, at the base of a mountain path.
Stark contrast to the roads and wilderness you have grown accustomed to traveling on, this path is in pristine condition. Barely a stray stone is cast upon the white, meticulously level stones. Nearing the end of a day's travel, you find an impressive stone bridge...
A fifteen-foot-wide path curves along the side of a towering mountain peak. Wind howls through the pass, knocking up occasional piles of gravel and tossing it off the cliff’s hazardous edge. A solid stone bridge connects the mountainous path with a similar pass to a peak further north.
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"Why, it's not hard Evariel. You've done it before a thousand times without even realizing." Oh boy, another naive amateur. I better make sure he's somewhere else when the game starts.
Tagir wraps an arm around the elf's shoulders and squeezes affectionately. "You see, people like to talk. Especially about themselves. All you need to do is keep quiet and listen." And let me do the talking.
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Ulena spends most of the time on the boat leaning over the rail and enjoying the sight of the water passing by. Finding herself even comfortable enough to dress in more casual clothing for that leg of the journey. She engages just about anyone in conversation to help pass the time until the harder part of the journey.
Once on foot and trekking through the wilderness, she offers what minor expertise she has when needed. Though finding the kept pathway lifted her spirits considerably.
"It's been nice to be on a real road again. Traveling the wilderness in all this armor isn't all the stories crack it up to be." She looks eagerly ahead to the bridge, wondering what's bound to meet them on the other side. "I bet the view of the river is gorgeous from up there!"
Following the tenets of her order, she moves forward, both as a shield for her companions and as an example of the Pathfinder initiative, something she's likely extolled the virtues of the whole trip.
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"Agreed. Traveling the wilderness in no armor isn't much better, in fact. Crawling through caves and such. Give me a nice, well-tended road like this one any day." Happy to keep the others, even Ulena, between himself and trouble, Evariel stays with the group but never in front of it.
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Bishop is happy to be off the boat when they finally hit the port but when he sees that they are required to get on another boat he feels the acid in his stomach start to build up. Quickly settling himself he boards the ferry but is quiet for the water voyage keeping more time polishing his 'bones' and anything else that will keep his mind off the water that is beneath his feet.
His spirits rise when he sets foot upon the ground and is quick to notice the distance the pompous elf keeps between himself and the others.
'At least there will be some quiet.' he continues on letting the others lead but keeping his eyes about for anything out of the ordinary.
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"Up until now all my missions have been in Absalom or the Isle of Kortos so I guess not too much Traveling, but the trip from Kyonin to Absalom was tough. Actually, now that I think about it, I must have traveled through Druma on the way, but I don't remember much about it."
She shrugs and smiles at Dragos and Evariel, happy for the conversation while they wait for the others to catch up.
Nearing the end of the path on this side, you see the stern visage of a dwarven monarch looking north, matching the gaze of another stone carving on the opposite mountaintop. The human-sized eyes of the statue’s face are black pits, carved so deep that they admit no light into their hollow depths. From under the gigantic face, the bridge was made to look like the outstretched arm of the stone dwarf, reaching out with a stone hammer in direct imitation of the opposite stone figure. The heads of these hammers touch, forming a bridge between two mountainous trails, one to the north and south. The center point of the bridge, where the hammers meet, is covered in wooden debris and numerous broken objects.
As you all begin to round the corner, a voice calls out to you, wracked with sorrowful rage. "OOOOHHHHH! Please, PLEASE! COME NO CLOSER! " she hysterically screams, pointing to you all. The woman before you is wrapped in a dirty blanket and surrounded by the remnants of a shattered caravan. Wooden pieces and all manner of mundane items litter the floor. Her wild eyes hold you with fierce contempt as she makes her accusations.
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Ulena moves up a little bit, toward the base of the mountain. Where there not a woman wailing some fifty feet away she might have taken time to appreciate the intricate design, but now she was on alert.
"We want nothing from you." She says calmly as she approaches, weapons still sheathed, hands up palms facing outward. "We might even be able to help you. Maybe wrap you in something cleaner, give you something to eat? Please, we don't mean you any harm."
At Ulena's approach, her eyes somehow grow wider and she squirms away from you. The woman is still screaming at the paladin, despite her gentle words and approach. She curls herself up in the blanket even further, shielding herself from you.
You get the feeling there is some level of theatrics here . With your perception check, even from this distance, you can tell that this caravan and it's surrounding debris is a little old and weathered. You aren't fully certain, but you think you heard a stifled sneeze somewhere on the bridge and the faint clatter of wooden object hitting the floor from the other side of the bridge.
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"Be wary of the woman in distress. This would be an ideal place for an ambush especially for any crossing the bridge alone." Bishop is quick to say this to the others and then yells back to the woman while rushing to Ulena.
Finally reaching Ulena he puts a hand on her shoulder holding her back. "There is something not right about this whole situation. She is being too dramatical and the caravan appears to have been here for sometime not something that was recently destroyed."
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"Hmmm... She could just be a crazy old human who thinks we're someone we're not. Or she could be part of an ambush, trying to convince us to cross this one at a time so we're easy targets. Unfortunately divinations were never my specialty. Anyone else know magic?"
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"That's a possibility Bishop, but I can't just suspect everyone I come across, and she seems to really be in distress."
To give her companion the benefit of the doubt, Ulena looks over the woman again, trying to read her intent.
If she picks up something wrong she will draw her weapon, but remain where she is.
"If you don't attack us, we won't attack you." Or, at least I won't.
"Marauders, bandits, thieves, highwaymen, turncoats..." she rambles on, mentioning numerous versions of the type of person to steal things from an innocent travelers like her.
Once you start to think about the possibility of an ambush and take a look around, you start to get the sense that she is not being honest with you.
As Ulena and Dragos draw their weapons, she begins to cry. "PLEASE NO! I won't attack you, I promise! Just cross here one at a time and be gone!" she stammers out between sobs. However already on to her tricks, all of you are able to discern that she has no intention of keeping her promise, despite her pathetic appearance.
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I am peaceful. I come first with a rose. I act to prevent conflict before it blossoms.
I never strike first, unless it is the only way to protect the innocent. Ulena begins to pray as she steps forward, Glaive ready to intercept any enemies that might come her way.
"We need to make it through. We don't need to hurt you. Just let us by and no one will get hurt."
Just in case, she taps into her divine powers, trying to read any evil intent in the area.
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Evariel sifts through his spell repertoire, looking for what might help in this situation.
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Really? Couldn't these bandits find a fairer maiden to bait the trap? "Is this really necessary? If I were a bandit, I wouldn't try to rob an armed group of Pathfinders with no cargo. Merchants make far easier and profitable pickings.
"Of course, if I were a bandit I would be a damn good one, so I guess I shouldn't judge others by such high standards."
The woman stands up, her blanket cascading around her. "GET THEEEEEMMM!" she screeches, a wicked dagger in her hand. The sun's rays it manages to catch reveal a razor sharp edge that appears to be coated with some sort of residue.
At her command, you all hear the sound of climbing from the side of the bridge covered by the bulk of the remains. The sharper eyed of you also notice some movement in the eyes of the stone face on the far side of the bridge...
Active Effects: None
Evariel () Ulena ()
A man with a battered longsword, wearing clothing that looks like it has seen better days leaps upon the bridge with a snarl!
BOLD MAY ACT
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"You picked the wrong travelers, folks." Evariel reaches into the aether and completes the strands of a spell he'd prepared.
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Ulena continues forward, eyeing both the woman, and the man who emerged from the wreckage.
"Stay where you are, and no one gets hurt." She says, feeling like she's repeating herself.
She sets her glaive, ready to defend herself or her allies.