The Pathfinder Society’s Master of Blades, Marcos Farabellus, rarely assigns missions himself. Rarer still do those orders come directly from the Decemvirate.
“You bold few are in for a journey,” the towering wall of a man states. He rubs his beard for a few moments, as if physically searching it for the right words. “There’s a problem in Ustalav. An embarrassing one. Most of you have probably met Vonran Vilk, the old man who used to work in the library. He was the Master of Blades well before my time; the man lived more stories than you or I have even read. A few months back he returned to his homeland of Ustalav to write his memoirs for the Society. Something happened along the way. Now, a serial killer stalks Vilk’s hometown of Ardis, killing off all his old enemies. Under the full moon. I think you get the drift.”
“Look. I’m not going to blow you a lot of smoke. Vilk defined what it meant to be a good man in his day. More importantly, he’s still got secrets buried up in that geriatric head of his that the Decemvirate doesn’t want spilled on the cobblestones by some superstitious Ardisian’s silver ax. Even worse, Ustalav sees the Pathfinder Society as a band of mercenaries and grave robbers. If anyone finds out that as prominent a Pathfinder as Vilk stalks their streets and murders their nobles as the man they’re calling the ‘Midnight Mauler,’ that might be enough excuse to have the entire Society expelled from Ardis’s borders without any debate.”
“Ideally, you are to stop the murders without killing Vilk. But if push comes to shove, access to all the history of Ustalav outweighs any one man. Stop Vilk, whatever it takes. Our man in Ardis will meet you at the docks.”
True to the Master of Blades’s word, an excited young man strains for a view from behind a row of dull, bored, gray-clad observers on the docks of Ardis’s modest harbor. His face beams with equal parts excitement and relief as the gangplank drops.
As a note, Ustalav, being a region frequented by were-kin, has an abundance of were-kin fighting gear. You will have a short time to shop in Ardis before seeking out Master Vilk.
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Chasik, stands and listens to the mission given. He knows a little bit about machines, and a little about goes bump underground and in crypts but that is all. He checks to ensure his gear is strapped on tight, and his weapons are secure. He stands up and nods at the Captain, than looks around to his other traveling mates, anyone know what we could be walking into, cause I was never one to learn about stuff that's not machine or in a cave
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Near the Venture-Captain stands a lithe young woman with otherworldly looks. Long blond hair flow on her shoulders, with golden locks. Her eyes seem to be made of gold as well. She's covered in an outlandish-looking mithral armor, and seems to prize her darkwood bow a lot. As each and every person enters the room, the aasimar studies them carefully, as if trying to discern something a simple glance wouldn't reveal.
She nods with an air of gravity on her pretty face. "We shall stop him, and will try to keep him alive to the best of our ability. This I promise you, Master Farabellus."
Turning to her new companions she bows in a foreign-like fashion, then beaming a friendly smile. "I am Ennoia. I will protect you all with my life if need be, more often than not with my arrows."
"We should all be aware that Nidal-especially Ardis-is not a place of happiness and good. My informants tell me that whereas the common folk are stalked by criminals, wild beasts and Sczarni alike, the tradesmen and the noblemen are the only targets of the Midnight Mauler. Since the Nidalese believe the Midnight Mauler to be a werewolf, most have come to prize their silver weapons and wolfsbane. The local guard has taken other drastic measures-they expel the Varisians from their city for the duration of every full moon. Finally, over the past 4 months, the initial fear of the Midnight Mauler evolved into outrage. The last full moon saw a young Sczarni boy lynched, and the coming full moon will likely bring more mob violence."
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Karu the Bold Strider stands on the bow of the ship, ready for its return voyage back to the Flaxseed Lodge, when a messenger boy runs up to him with a sealed scroll. Karu breaks the letter and begins to read it. Ennoia! You are needed for a mission in Qadira. You have a certain skill set that will be necessary for the mission. We have found a local replacement for you already. She is waiting in town. Karu hands the messenger boy a few silver and the letter. He scampers down the gangplank and into the sea of people in the nearby marketplace.
Alright people! Double time! I need this boat ready to sail within the hour!
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A tiefling with a clear demonic heritage joins the others, obviously rushed and flustered because he came in so late. He has many flasks in iron and glass vials over two bandoleers that cross his burly chest. He has a composite bow across his shoulder and two shiny morning-stars on his back. The morning-stars appear to be different types of metal. "Sorry that I am late. I got caught up mixing an order for a client."
"Hmmm, these reports of lunar transformations and brutal maulings in Ardis point to lycanthropy. A werewolf likely bit Vilk on his journey to Ardis, and he now transforms under the full moon—typically 3 days every month.
Lycanthropes of all types shun silver, and silver weapons penetrate their unnaturally thick hides. The herb wolfsbane—also called aconite or monkshood— may cure a victim but is also poisonous and can kill a werewolf just as easily.
Having been bitten, Vilk is only a bearer of the curse of lycanthropy, and cannot infect others. Only someone born with lycanthropy spreads the disease to his victims.
However, during these transformations he will not be able to control himself. We must see if we can find wolfsbane and some way to strengthen his immune system so that the wolfsbane does not kill him while it removes the lycanthropy. I believe that an antitoxin could do miracles in combination with wolfsbane extract. I would be quite interested in getting a bloodsample though. The changes of lycanthropy are fascinating."
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It is sad that the town tosses people outside the city walls, and down right deplorable they would hang a man. I will be happy to put to rest this issue, just so people can sleep easy at night. In regards to silver, my hammer should do the trick, but I may pick up some other supplies real quick like anti-plague or anti-toxin. If the rumors are true, and that he was bitten, there very well may be other "true" lycans enemies out there wanting to bite us.
Upon disembarking in Ustalav, you are greeted by a young man. “Well met, my brothers and sisters. Thank you for coming so quickly! I am Ryado Erudyta.” Despite his youth, Ryado approaches with a limp in his left leg. “I have a coach waiting to take us back to the safe house. We can speak more freely away from these crowds.”
The rented cab is small but well appointed, and after a moment of securing the luggage, Erudyta continues. “By now you know the unfortunate circumstances of Master Vilk’s... condition. I ran into him by chance six weeks ago at the library of
a mutual friend. I was researching the Dracora family’s lineage, but that’s neither here nor there.” He glances out the window, peering at the long, orange shadows cast by the late afternoon sun. “To my shame, I didn’t put all the clues together until the most recent round of murders, but now I see it all... Vilk’s overland journey into Ustalav under cover of darkness, the low profile he maintains, and the identities of the seemingly random victims.” He shakes his head, showing more years than his rosy cheeks would suggest. “I wish I could stop him myself, but fighting a werewolf would’ve been well beyond my skills even before the ghouls got to me.” He knocks gently on his left leg.
“The full moon starts tonight, along with Vilk’s next round of murders. I beg you to cure our wayward master if at all possible. You’ll find curative magics scarce in Ardis, but I believe a powerful dose of wolfsbane may reverse his condition, should he survive it. There might even be enough humanity left in his bestial soul to reason with. The guard grows wise to the beast, and the locals are on edge as well—if the guard or an angry mob beat us to Vilk, the Society’s relationship to the Midnight Mauler will be exposed. We can’t let that happen. One way or another, Vilk’s rampage must end tonight.”
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Chasik moves to a nearby dock stall and is able to purchase some anti-plague at a nearby stall. The merchant bows and shakes his head when he is asked if he has any wolfsbane, however.
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As the Pathfinders disembark, a lithe elven girl bearing long, well-kept blond hair flowing down to her waist is waiting on the docks, grasping her wayfinder. Some of her hair is braided, with small clasps respresenting the Dawnflower. Her eyes are deep blue, and she hardly ever blinks. At her side, a black-bladed scimitar rests, engraved with arabesque.
She walks up to Chasik and addresses the burly fighter with a respectful bow. "I am Aetherys Dawnblade. Welcome to Ustalav." she said with a voice lacking any kind of warmth.
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"Ruado do you know where Vilk presides? Would he be there currently or is he lost to the moon at this time?" Upon seeing the elf with the black blade Tarquins attention shifts to the blade ignoring the girl altogether
"Ah so this is one of those famed black blades I have heard about. I believe they can speak. Blade do you feel this?" Tarquin says as he pokes the blade with the pointed nail from one of his clawed fingers.
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Ryado turns to the Tiefling, I have not spoken to Vilk since his banishment from Ustalav. I tried to help the man once I heard about the situation. I spent six weeks trying to track him down without any luck; too many of his records were simply wiped clean after his exile. If anyone in Ardis knows Vilk well enough to predict his actions, it would be his ex-lover: a half-elf courtesan named Markov Rutowski. Despite the urban decay, Ardis’s courtesans remain well insulated, and I lack the social skills to even gain an audience with him. I understand Vilk’s exile was something of a black mark on Rutowski’s own career, and it likely remains a sensitive topic.”
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He nods. It is not the best of situations, but they are in it non the less. This will be interesting. He hopes he makes it back, his little Serket is almost ready to explore the world with him. He wpuld like to be there when shes ready
Very well, a hunt it is. Not my speciality, but I will try to help where I can
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Withdrawing the blade from the tiefling's nails, Aetherys addresses him a cold glare. "My blade can well feel your unholy touch, but it won't communicate with you unless you enter a state of holy trance dedicated to the Sarenrae's glory. Leave Dawnblade alone, lest the Dawnflower's holy touch burns your skin, fiend."
Listening to the conversation taking place between Ryado and her companions, the elf quickly asks "Do you know where we may find this Markov Rutowski? If not, we'd better get going, time is of the essence."
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Tarquin frowns at the retort the elf gives and stands up straight accentuating his muscles and height which are obviously enhanced due to his heritage. "Tut, tut, no need for name calling, I only wanted to study it. I may have some demonic heritage, but that does not make me a demon."
"Lead us to the lover Ryado, if you please." Tarquin says as he turns away from the elf.
He walks with Ryado and says to him "And that is why I do not like working with religious fanatics. They only think in absolutes. It's a shame really, it is fanaticism like that that got Serenrae forbidden in Taldor. You would think a believer of that god knows better then to judge a book by its cover."
He looks over his shoulder back at the elf and continues "Its a damn shame..."
Ryado ponders the question before responding. You will have to head to his residence and ask for an audience. He produces a map and circles Rutowski's residence before handing it to you.
If you are looking for wolfsbane, I would suggest heading to the marketplace and visiting the local alchemist's shops.
As you enter the marketplace, you see a plethora of crossbows, silver weapons, holy symbols and the like. It seems as if everyone is carrying some form of silver on his or her person or has a lock of an herb tied to a leather thong around his or her neck. Tarquin and Sutekh Amun go from stall to stall looking for wolfsbane, but are told that most of the stalls have sold out of the plant. One merchant directs the pair to a stall at the end of the marketplace. He believes that a young, tiefling alchemist there may have some wolfsbane left.
As you approach, you hear a greeting. Newcomers to Ardis? Poor time of year for such a visit… Let me guess, you aren’t here to pick up any infusions or potions? I do happen to have some wolfsbane as I assume that is why you’ve come. The alchemist’s sign bears a glass vial with a skull and crossbones on it. A smoked glass mask that only allows vague impression of the face underneath rests under his hooded cloak. He seems to have a small monkey running around fetching vials as he mixes a creation in his portable lab. Wolfsbane is quite rare, even in Ustalav. With the recent werewolf attacks, almost all of the vendors are sold out. Almost. I have three locks of wolfsbane. I could be persuaded to part with them for 800gp apiece. Quite cheap given the scarcity. His eyes twinkle as he sees the group looking back and forth, debating the necessity of the herb. Plus, if you buy my last batch of wolfsbane, then I will have reason to go find more. The forest outside of Ardis is quite fun, provided you are prepared and know of the dangers. More fun than sitting in a stall all day, at least.
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Seeing a fellow alchemist, a tiefling even, Tarquin feels right at home "This is a nice shop you have here sir. It is a shame we are in such a hurry or I would have loved to go through your item's in more detail. And thank you very much in telling us where to find more Wolfsbane, I'm sure we will be able to find it in the forest with my friend who is a ranger and my keen nose." Tarquin says as he taps his nose.
In a more serious tone he adds: "Now though we would prefer the Wolfsbane right away, we are in no hurry and can find it on our own. Though the populace might get upset if they hear that another person has died because you tried to sell Wolfsbane at such a steep price to the members of the group who were hired to help rid the town of the monster. I'm sure a tiefling as yourself has had some challenges in getting accepted by the locale. I know how hard it can be from experiences. It would be a shame if the poor civilians had another reason to hate you wouldn't it? Why they might think that you have something to do with it as you are clearly making a nice profit of the presence of the werewolf."
The tiefling seems unimpressed by Tarquin's appeal to emotion and veiled threat, though it is hard to tell under the mask. This is Ustalav, unprepared people die everyday. Whether your preparation is money to flaunt or muscle to squeeze, you have the upper hand over those who would venture out without protection of some sort. Acceptance is not my forte, but I have set up quite a profitable venture here. The townspeople enjoy my boldness and are quite willing to pay for it. If you think you can brave the forest, then by all means...
A man rushes up dressed in ragged messenger's clothes. He seems a bit unsettled and keeps looking off towards the setting sun. Excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt... The man reads off of a hastily scrawled note. You are George Demonspawn? The Alchemist? My master has sent me to purchase two locks of wolfsbane. He has heard that you are the last merchant in Ardis to carry the herb and knows of your price. The man pulls out a full pouch of clanking metal and sets it on the counter.
Excuse me Pathfinders... Business calls. George turns to the man and lays two locks of wolfsbane on the counter, sealed in a wax-stoppered vial. He picks up the pouch, noticing the crest on the bag. Thank Sir Bentham for me. He has always been a loyal customer. The man quickly takes the vials and almost breaks into a run as he hurries back into the lessening throng of people.
I'm sorry, fellow Tiefling. What were you saying again? He mockingly brings his finger to the chin of his mask for a long second. Oh yes, I believe you were implying that my lack of a discount for the Pathfinders might... cause me some trouble? I can assure you that this is not the case, but I understand your needs. You look like strapping young men and women. Perhaps the forest is better for you after all. Twenty gold pieces from each of you and perhaps I can part with my map of the prime wolfsbane locations and the likely horrors you may face. Is this the kind of discount you were looking for? Then again, you could rely on your... how'd you say it... ranger and keen nose?
Tarquin believes that he would be able to find the herb in the forest. Depending on the scarcity of the herb, he could probably find it in about an hour.
Tarquin, being the astute Alchemist that he is, also notices that George is crafting 3rd level infusions, specifically Heroism and Haste, and a 4th level infusion, Greater Invisibility.
Nothing is stopping you from trying, however I would refrain from the attempt. If only for the sake of your loved ones, provided you have those. George's claws gleam in the setting sun.
Perception:
Tarquin, Sutekh Amun and Aetherys notice a pale red substance coating George's claws.
It is getting close to dusk and I would prefer to be back home before the Mauler makes his rounds for the evening. If you think my prices are too steep, then please be on your way. I still have to pack up. With that, George snaps his fingers and his monkey, Mr. Chips, begins to grab potion bottles and pouches of herbs and stuffs them into a small bag. You see more go in than you would expect the bag to fit, followed by even more. You realize the Alchemist crafted a small Bag of Holding for the monkey.
Ryado sensing the possibility of an impending conflict begins to whisper to the group, Sirs and madam, I believe that our... employer will be glad enough to have this manner handled discretely. We should avoid a show of force that will draw attention to our employer's presence here during this time. I'm sure that the cost of the map will be covered as necessary expenses. As such, I will handle the upfront cost of the map and put in a formal request for reimbursement.
Ryado steps forward, pulling a small pouch of coins from his belt. Umm... I believe that we understand the situation and would be overjoyed to purchase your help in finding the wolfsbane. The cost of the herb itself is quite prohibitive, but your generous offer of the map would be an enormous help. Here is the money that you requested... Ryado plunks the bag of coins on the counter.
George steps forward, picking up the bag with one claw, seemingly weighing it. I guess this will do... He pulls a ribbon-bound scroll from under his cloak and hands it to Ryado. Don't die... or do. You have some gear on you that would resell for quite an amount and I'm sure that I will find your bodies eventually. I do have to go out and restock my supply eventually. George throws the bag of coins into a pack at his feet and begins stowing the large chests behind him on his cart.
With this map and Tarquin's knowledge of wolfsbane, it should take significantly less time to find the patches of the herb in the forest.
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That went a bit better than expected at the end. Luckely there was not a fight. Now it seems they will be goung into the woods... great...
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The band of Pathfinders adventures off into the forest just on the outskirts of Ardis. As they follow the small path set into the woods, they see very little signs of life outside of the occasional bird.
Perception:
After thirty minutes of searching, the group spots a wolfsbane plant off to the west. As they approach, Tarquin and Aetherys notice that two of the larger flowers near the wolfsbane plant are moving ever so slightly and a large vine coiled at the base of the shrub is pulsing.
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"Be careful friends.
The two flowers are not actually inanimate plants, but xtabays, dangerous flowering plant creatures that lull their victims to sleep before devouring them. It is said that the Xtabays take their time to suck their victims dry, but the victim never awakens from their slumber.
The pulsating vine at the base of the shrub is actually an assassin vine. As the name would suggest, this plant creature places itself near heavily-used crossroads or highly sought after herbs in order to surprise its prey. It focuses mostly on grappling and constricting a single target to death before moving on to others.
Perhaps it is wise to destroy the dangerous plants from a distance before we gather the one we need."
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Tarquin shoots an arrow at the assassin vine from a distance. The bombs might hit the wolfsbane.
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Two arrows strike the assassin vine. It recoils in pain and starts moving erratically, but doesn't move. The xtabays also begin to move around, their tendrils snaking around in the ground near it. They too do not move.
The assassin vine stops moving and seems to slump down... Three arrows lodged in it.