|
Finally back in the more civilized world after that last trek into Varisia to help out the Hiedmarch's lodge, only a single day's rest before being summoned upon once more.
You have been called to the Grand Lodge of Absalom for a briefing. Seated in a small chamber around a darkwood table, various trophies gathered from across the face of Golarion hang from the walls. A monkey-shaped mask with a serpent’s tongue glares out from the center of one wall, a strange halberd with gold rings piercing its thick blade and dragons carved along its haft hangs opposite the monkey mask. You are alone save your fellow Pathfinders, who apparently have been called here for the same purpose, and likewise had been looking forward to a little more downtime.
Finally, a huge man wearing creaking leathers marches into the room. He looks at each of you, as if he were appraising a handful of gemstones freshly pulled from the earth, and nods curtly. Some of you know him as Adril Hestram, a longtime Pathfinder and rumored to be the unwitting architect of the famed Katapesh slave riot of 4702. Adril’s physique puts most half-orcs to shame.
“Welcome, friends. We have a serious problem. came to Absalom one month ago. Like many Ulfen warriors he joined the Longaxes, the Taldan Emperor’s personal guard whose duty it is to protect the embassy and Taldan visitors. Skelg also dropped a hefty sum of gold to purchase a manor in the Ivy district, something a Longaxe isn’t paid well enough to do. It is widely assumed that he brought most of his wealth with him from the north—a rumor I know to be true."
“It seems that Skelg also brought a curse with him. In his letter to me, he speaks of lying abed in this miserable summer dying from the cold. Neither physician nor priest has been able to cure his ailment, and there are no signs of disease or poison. Of course, for such a man, there is no greater dishonor than to die in bed instead of in battle. Normally, the Pathfinder Society would monitor these events and let the authorities deal with them. However, there are three factors that have drawn our interest. First, Skelg is himself a member of our Society and has asked for our help. Second, he is a personal friend of mine, and finding a sparring partner as worthy as Skelg to replace him would be a trying task. Last, he claims that artifacts of great power are involved, and that we may be able to recover them for the vaults of the Grand Lodge."
“We view this situation as having enough importance to assign you to investigate it. Go to the home of Skelg the Ripper, learn what you can, and do your best to help him. If you find an item that is somehow connected to the curse, either retrieve it or glean as much information as you can about it. “I trust there are no questions?”
|
"Perhaps you can give us a sign or a symbol so Skleg knows we come from you and we can be trusted. Do we know if he has any enemies here?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
"Perhaps this will be a clockwork viking to match the clockwork dragon? Maybe the girl will be prettier this time - I understand some viking women have bears almost worthy of a dwarf."
"Hey - I believe that's inspiration calling my name. Let's head on and see if we can save the viking and get the girl!"
|
|
Sifting through some drawers at his desk, he retrieves the simple note and hands it over, "Now you should make haste. Time is of the essence.".
The letter reads as he mentioned, that Skelg seems to have been cursed somehow, and describes laying in bed dying of a sort of magical cold no matter how close to the fire he is, and asks for help. It indicates he has already employed healers, priests, and mages, and none have helped.
You make your way there. Parkview Street is true to its name, running the entire length of the Ivy District park. Standing like a tomb in a flower garden, Greydog Manor is easy to find. Six-foot-high walls surround the massive, stone building and an immense iron gate flanked by granite statues of hunting dogs stands open, offering access to the interior. Looking along the street, it is clear that locals give the estate a wide berth. The stone walls seem to give a slight chill to the air, which is not entirely unpleasant on such a hot day.
Standing in the street across the way, you can the top of the manor's higher level over the wall, across from a large courtyard. There is only one main entrance though the front gate, and you can see a small guard shack just on the inside. You can also see a small stretch of the wall that looks like it could possibly be used to sneak over and around back.
|
|
The courtyard is cool and shady compared to the street outside. Dead leaves are scattered across the flagstones and the granite steps where two Ulfen warriors stand. Each man wears a chain shirt and a surcoat bearing the Taldan crest and carries the traditional imperial guard long axe. The guards look at you sternly, and one of them speaks.
“Skelg is ill. He wants no visitors.”
|
|
Kargen begins to speak, but he stops when he notices the tabard backwards on the guard. He glances over to Moll and takes a step to the side, hoping to give himself a clean line of fire. "He wants no visitors, but he seems to already have some. Tell, me whoever showed you how to wear that talbard was either drunk at the time or an idiot."
|
|
One guard looks to the other, whose hand goes for his axe, but stops to say "We told you to leave. Skelg said "no visitors".
The first guard holds up a hand, to "calm" the other and comments "They did say they had a response. Let them in and lets get back out of the cold"
He takes out a set of keys, opens the gate and motions you inside. "Well, common. Just head up the path to the front door and Skelgs "slave" will let you in", as he points towards the mansion. Trying to be coy, "So what's this about a message?"
|
Moll eyes the men with a slight smirk on her lips. "Well, glad to hear you're going to recognize our importance." she says, while turning to look at the walls on either side. She has shifted her stance to shield her right side from their view, and attempts to draw the sword on that hip without them seeing.
|
Borax Bulan hustled to catch the others, totally out of breath,
"Plea...se.....ho....ld...the gate!" Pausing for a moment to catch his breadth, the tall thin man was doubled over for a moment as he began panting. The middle aged man of some type of Varisian descent finally stood up, adjusted his bandolier and backpack, located his hand crossbow, and began walking with a gait as stiff as a board.
Looking at the guard, Borax simply said, "Thank you."
Noticing that Yanbrel was attempting to do something she probably shouldn't, Borax did what came natural to him. He attempted to help his fellow pathfinders.
"Soldier, I believe I saw some rapscallions attempting to enter the manor some way down the street. Perhaps you should investigate the matter?" It sounded more like a command than an suggestion.
|
|
Kargen looks at Borax. "Ahh, welcome. You're the messenger from the Lodge, yes? Good to see you. And that you're well-prepared." He looks around to the others. "We should all be well prepared for anything at a moment's notice."
The whole group take notice of the archer's tone and realizes that he's warning them of an ambush.
"Now, let's go in and see Skelg, shall we?" He moves to enter the gate.
|
|
Paying close attention to the lead guard, Angruf follows up to Borax's discussion, "If our friend here knew anything we might benefit from, he would tell us. I'm certain he'd tell us if Skeig's indisposition was caused by someone at the manor. If there were any danger to us, say, from other gaurds, or from some ambush, I'm certain he would let us know right now. Isn't that right?" Angruf's words are oddly compelling, drawing the guard in, to view Angruf as a friend and confidante.
|
|
As you enter, the guards do not seem to catch the coded message. Locking the gate behind you, the order you on, and just as you turn to leave, one tries to sneak their axe out, but Angruf's magic affects the other, who stops him.
"You are right, brother." he says to Angruf. "Skelg stole from us, and we just came to take it back. He is no friend of ours, and whatever is affecting him, well he doesn't have long. We just wanted to make sure he died in bed like an old woman, and not in battle. You should hurry, he dies soon, I think."
The other one looks at him, mouth agape, "What in the hells are you doing? Bengeirr is not going to lie this. . ." while the ne that is charmed says "It's ok. We can trust these guys."
As they continue to discuss things, you slip on into the house. It seems empty, no servants walk the halls, no further guards lurking about. Finally you reach the master bedroom. It seems to get more and more chilly, until reaching the door you begin to see your breath turn to frost.
You open the door to the master bedroom and are greeted by a blast of heat. A roaring fire blazes in the fireplace even though the day is swelteringly hot. A huge bearded man shivers under his blankets, his bed pushed dangerously close to the fire. A thin servant sits in the far corner by a window, fanning himself with a handkerchief. The bearded man looks at you and blinks a few times, then speaks through chattering teeth. “Are y-you P-path-f-finders?”
|
|
"Yes, Master Skeig, we are Pathfinders. We come at the behest of Adril Hestram, who says your presence in the sparring ring is wanting of late. He has sent us to speed you back to cross blades with him. We bring the note you sent as surety of our origin. Can you tell us how we can help? Your message speaks around a topic, but we are not clever enough to tell how to proceed. Can you aid our understanding?"
"But before you proceed, can you introduce us to your servant? We have had some... difficulties... with the guards at your gate, and would like to understand who else is privy to your counsel."
|
|
The witch glances over the bedbound Ulfen, but nothing catches his attention.
"Oh, he must be faking," Yanbrel declares loudly to his companions. He holds up a hand to his shoulder, and Goody atop his wrist. He lowers the owl to his chest, stroking the unblinking bird as he paces the room.
"In debt to our noble Captain from a reckless wager no doubt. By the looks of our friends at the gate, this warrior has a habit of poor business decision. But no, the Longaxes are fighters, not performers. He must have poisoned himself, to complete the ruse. After his death, his bonds would be paid out from his estate, and he would be free to roam oblivion. Or is that's what he wants us to think? This not the real Skelg at all, but only an illusion. Show yourself, you whooping fraud!"
|
|
The house itself is cool, and gets colder the closer you get to this room. Once you open the door, a blast of heat from the fireplace hits you, warm to the point of being uncomfortable akin to a barbaric sweat lodge.
Laying a hand upon Skelg, he feels literally as cold as ice and is shivering as if he alone where actually in a blizzard and not this room. He also radiates STRONG Conjuration, nearly overwhelming magic, far far more powerful than anything any of you is likely to have ever seen first hand."
"This is my man, Tyros, my last loyal man. He was abld to smuggle word out just as those ruffians came here to rob me. They murdered warriors and left me to die here."
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
|
Tyros stands up and bows, then takes over the dialogue, which is difficult for his master, speaking through chattering teeth and troubled breathing.
"A week ago, Skelg caught Bengeirr’s men in his basement vault, mistaking them for common thieves. One of the intruders had lit a lantern he found in the vault that was actually the Beacon of the North, but Skelg was unaware of its magical properties. When the light from the lantern struck Skelg, he began to freeze. When the light shone on a tapestry hanging on a wall in the hallway outside of the vault, a shimmering doorway appeared, frightening the intruders enough to flee
the manor. With Skelg in a weakened state from the immediate effect of the cold, the thieves easily escaped him and fled with the lantern and other valuables from inside the vault."
Skelg speaks up, "Sssshhhoowww ttthemmmm".
Tyros nods, and takes you to a small treasury hall, and points at a massive painting. It depicts an Ulfen longship on a rolling sea, mostly encased in an iceberg. "This is what happened once they shone the light of the lantern upon it. It was a meadow scene with shepherd and flock, and if I may say, very nice. Peaceful. This ship, I can not say, there is something,. . . dark about it. I do not like it, nor how it makes me feel."
"After the thieves fled, one of Skelg’s men named Tirfyr walked into the portal on the tapestry to investigate. He returned a moment later saying that it led to a ship encased in ice. He went back to investigate further, but after half an hour, the portal disappeared, trapping poor Tirfyr in the frigged landscape. Skelg recognized the ship in the tapestry as the funerary ship of his old enemy, Haldyr. He believes Tirfyr traveled to the ship and that the cure to his curse lies there.
Two days ago, Bengeirr’s men returned with Bengeirr himself and killed Skelg’s guards. Bengeirr spat on the sickly Skelg, snarling, “Now you’ll die in bed like an old woman.” He left his guards to prevent anyone from saving Skelg and tossed the corpses of Skelg’s men into the vault in the basement. Skelg, in his weakened state, was unable to do anything to defend himself and hurriedly wrote a cryptic letter to his friend Adril, hoping his sparing partner would send help immediately. Then he had timid Tyros smuggle the letter into the city. I fear that there is more to this than is obvious, some dark history between Bengeirr and my master, but he will not speak of it. And of Skelgs affliction, all he will tell me is that “It is as if the frozen fingers of winter’s blackest midnight clutch at my heart. I’m freezing from the inside out.” He had kept a few magical tinctures and remedies in his room, and we have tried them all, with no avail.'
|
|
"Wait, those idiots who were outside were the ones who stole the lantern? And there's an empty hook on the magical tapestry?" He looks at Yanbrel. "You don't suppose, we need to return the lantern to the ship, do we?"
"Are Bengeirr's men still here? Maybe we can persuade them to answer some questions."
|
|
"I'm betting Beneirr's man out there - the lead guard - still believes we are his great good friends. At least we avoided disabusing him of that notion. If nothing else, they may know who has the lantern, and where."
"As attractive as that ship might look to some, I don't look forward to an eternity on that ice. I'd like to have the device here that caused the tapestry to turn to portal."
|
|
Returning downstairs, you find only one of the guards remains, your friend of course. He indicates that he and his friends had been among those that meant to rob Skelg, though he said that his leader, Bengeirr had simply been reclaiming what was rightfully his and that Skelg was the thief in some past slight. He says that Bengeirr is hiding out in a warehouse until he is sure that Skelg has finally died and his preparations have been made. He also comments that for some reason, the other guard did not seem to like you, and had gone back to the warhouse on his own.
With the address in hand, you head that way. The warehouse across from The Rosy Fingers Tavern is built right on the docks, part of it extending over the water. The building is thirty feet tall with no visible windows. On the landward side is a pair of large cargo doors with a smaller door built into the right one. Piers run along either side of the building and on the seaward side is a massive set of doors able to accommodate a small ship.
The street is busy, with several taverns among the warehouses. Most of the warehouses have sentries in front of them, and the ships at the docks are similarly guarded. A northlander warrior with an axe resting in his lap sits on a small pile of crates across from the warehouse, obviously keeping watch on the main door.