The initial dotting of the dot.
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Still carrying a mug of ale from the Flaxseed Lodge, Reidog strolls into the main entrance of the Grand Lodge and looks around for the contact he was told to meet.
"Bah! First one here again. Hurry up and wait. Same as ever."
Looking around at the entryway and its grand displays, he shakes his head at the ostentation. If ye can't wear it or cut off an elf's ears with it, what's the point?
To nobody in particular, he exclaims, "Why don't they hold these meetings at the bar like normal people? A dwarf's got ta stay hydrated."
Reidog takes a swallow and grimaces as he looks into the mug and notices how little ale remains.
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Newmark, wakes up to a knock on his door. What in the name of the Gods could someone want this time of morning! Newmark throws open the door to his small flat in Absalom, to see a young boy with a pouch full of loose papers, envelopes, and sealed scrolls. The cool air of the morning washes over Newmark but, it does nothing to change his fowl mood, So what ar ye about boy!? The boy stammers a bit as he hands Newmark a sealed envelope..er..message for you master Dwarf..
Newmark snaps the message out of the boy's hand and flips it over, examining the seal. Hmm was wondering when they'd come calling Newmark absently grasp at a small knife left on top of a nearby book shelve. The boy, still standing in the doorway, takes an un-conscious step back when he sees the surely Dwarf with a knife. Newmark looks up suddenly, having forgot about the boy. Well ye delivered ur message...be on your way! The boy turns to go..disappointment painted on his face. Newmark, catches the look of pain on the boys face and scrabbles to reach for a few coppers on his night stand as, the boy turns away. He reaches the door just as, the boy is on the last step of the landing. Ye forgot your tip! Newmark, tosses two coppers in the air and slams his door before, the coin clinks off the cobblestones below.
Back inside, Newmark slides the Knife under the wax seal of the message. He slips the knife carefully through the wax, dividing the mark of The Grand lodge, cleanly in half.
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Umberto stands tall for a human around 6ft 4in and barrel chested like a man who has worked the land. His tunic covers an armored coat and is modestly adorned with a silver holy symbol of a tankard. His belt jangles a bit with a cold iron mace. He holds a basic but weathered tankard that exists somewhere between his hand hip and lips at all times.
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Reidog smiles and takes a deep draught. "Ah, a Cailean, eh? Dwarf's Best Friend, as I always say."
Reidog beams with pride as the priest compliments his armor and weaponry. "Aye, and I thank you. Cayden Cailean provides for the down times, and Torag provides for the busy times, eh?
It's my family's work. Best yer like ta see. That's me family crest there on the shield."
Reidog slaps the shield strapped to his back, indicating the glowing boulder that denotes his lineage.
Holding out his hand for an arm clasp, he introduces himself. "Reidog Blessedstone, o' the Janderhoff Blessedstones. If yer ever make yer way up there, look for the glowing boulder and ye know yer buyin' quality!"
Taking another drink, he strokes his beard and lifts the tankard in a salute to Umberto.
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A large Nagaji walks into the lodge, pausing for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the light. He casts an imposing shadow, until you see the large smile come across his face. His back is adorned with a variety of weapons, the most curious of which is a shiny gardening hoe. His rhino amulet bounces on his thick plate armor as he steps forward. "Did I hear the name of Torag? Ha! Dwarf, we all make mistakes and that is alright by me. But I hope before we are done here you see the error of your ways and show reverence to the true God-In-Metal, Gorum! " He pats his armor proudly and takes another step towards Reidog. "Your armor looks quite fine. Someone in your family must be a secret follower of Gorum! " He laughs again, quite boisterously. "No matter. Hello, all. My name is Lumo Seme, of Gorum. "
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"Aye! Gorum is well respected. Someone needs to use that which Torag creates. Ha! Much like someone needs to use that which Cayden Cailean creates."
Reidog lifts his mug and rakes another long swallow.
"Well met, priest. Looks like the three of us are equipped to take down a clan of orcs and hill giants. Probably means we'll end up needing subtlety and intrigue in this assignment, eh?"
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Brax walks into the lodge, studying his surroundings and the people in it carefully. He pulls the hood down off his dark cloak and lets out a grumpy sigh. "Well, it's been a' bit since I been in here." he says to himself in a thick dwarvish brogue. Double checking the letter to ensure this is where he is supposed to be, he saunters up to the bar and tosses 2 gold pieces onto its smooth surface. "Barkeep- I'll 'ave a' ale and a' extra mug over here". Once the ale arrives, he slams it in one long gulp and places the mug back on the counter. Reaching his hand into a worn, stained pouch on his belt, he grabs a laughingly large wad of chewing tobacco and puts it into his right cheek. He tongues it about until it's in the perfect spot and surveys the scene again. "I hope ta' Torag tha' lot I'm travelin' with this go is more competent than tha' last. Nearly got myself killed out there on account of their ignorance". , he thinks to himself.
Spitting a huge, globular stream into his newly acquired mug, he overhears Umberto talking about the Lucky Drunk. "At least tha' ones got it right. Hopefully, I'll be travelin' with him. Wouldn't be a bad start."
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Reidog eyes the newcomer with interest. Someone not encased in steel is an oddity for this group, so far.
"Har! Don't get those mugs messed up now!"
Reidog laughs at what he considers to be a witty introduction, then slaps the dwarf on the shoulder.
"Good ta meet ya, cousin. The name's Reidog, out o' Janderhoff. Who might yerself be?"
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Brax nods as Umberto shows his Wayfinder. "Same as ye' are most likely. Name a' Braxen, but I go by Brax. Of the Dravensams clan." he grumbles as Reidog's meaty paw crunches into his shoulder. "This'll be tha' first time I traveled with another dwarf since I joined tha' Society. Assuming we're going to tha' same place, tha' is."
Looking over at Umberto again, he says "Well, I take ya for a priest a' tha' Lucky Drunk, if I ain't mistaken. Tha' or ya just really have strong feelings about 'im." "And you, "cousin", as ya say, ya look like yer ready ta go ta war. Looks like some fine craftsmanship, that."he continues as he admires the other dwarf's armor and weaponry. "So where are ya' headed? Or do ya' know yet?" Am I late to tha' party?"
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Lumo greets the newcomer with great excitement. "Ah, leather armor! That is much quieter!" His scaly cheeks crinkle as his smile grows larger. "Welcome! Gorum's word teaches that a well-rounded pauldron is what we should all aspire too. I hope that you are to join our party, for we could use a... softer touch." He turns back to his drink, quickly. I hope he doesn't take that the wrong way... Back at the temple, nobody liked being called soft...
The summons from Drandle Dreng is brief and a bit odd:
“Meet Kreighton Shaine in the stables to discuss missing artifacts.”
Aside from some briefings during training, few Pathfinders deal with the Society’s Master of Scrolls. In the muddy stables, Kreighton’s scholarly robes drag through the muck, and his so shoes are clearly soaked through, though he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I’ve been working on an extensive study of religious relics, trying to ascertain whether items gain a certain aura of divinity that cannot be detected through normal means. I’ve been collecting these artifacts through a series of well-known dealers in the God’s Market. We’ve never had any trouble before, but recently several of our couriers have been waylaid by a particularly elusive bandit.”
Kreighton pauses briefly as his mud-soaked robe snags on a nail and he nearly
falls over, but a stable boy catches his arm and steadies him.
“As they were headed through the Ascendant Court,” he continues, “a group of thugs ambushed our couriers. The first time I thought it was a coincidence—a random mugging. After the second time, however, Grandmaster Torch had some harsh words with me. He suspects someone has targeted our couriers specifically. The Drandle boy suggested I have you investigate the disappearances.”
There is a long, uncomfortable pause and for a minute it seems the elf has completely forgotten he was discussing something. Finally, he glances up with a sort of stunned look on his face.
“Oh yes, here, this list will help you. The Grandmaster
has helpfully provided it as a starting point.”
The Master of Scrolls hands you a rolled up piece of parchment.
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Upon arriving at the stables and seeing who they are to meet, Reidog grunts rudely and drops to the back of the group, standing with his arms crossed.
Those who are listening carefully can hear him mumbling under his breath. "Durn pointy-eared fairy. Just watch. He won't give a single piece of useful information."
He listens to the elf's presentation without further comment, then leans in to look at the note from Venture Captain Dreng.
"Muggings, is it? Play nice, no bodies. Talk to the witnesses.
Wait? No bodies? Ah well, when it comes down to the muggers attacking us, I can hold them off while the rest of you do your best to subdue them. Doesn't seem very efficient, though."
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After the boy leaves, Newmark finishes opening the letter and reads it,
“Meet Kreighton Shaine in the stables to discuss missing artifacts.”
Drandle Dreng
Newmark ponders the short missive for a moment, Stables? Dreng must mean the Grand lodge stables...what else could it mean? Newmark lets a few low muttered curses out, and begins to gather some of his adventuring gear.
About one bell later, Newmark finds himself in a stable, with the absent minded Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shaine, and five strangers he could only assume, were fellow Pathfinders. Gods...the smell of this place! Only that eccentric elf, would find this a suitable place to give a mission briefing! I wonder what connections he had, to make it this high in the Pathfinder Society thus far. It certainly wasn't an intellect based promotion! Scoffed Newmark, in his internal monologue. Newmark pauses a moment to, study the other people present in the stable.He drowns out, the somewhat useless elf instructor. If I remember correctly, from is lectures on ancient Thassilonian sites and Relics,..He'll drone on for a few minutes about some useless tangent..then get to the important part, near the end of his lecture.
When the elf stops speaking, Newmark practically snaps the parchment from the Master of Scrolls hand and begins to read. He mutters ominously, under his breath as a couple of the New-comers lean over his shoulder to read the then note as well.
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Lumo waits till the end to read the letter, self conscious. It definitely takes him longer than usual to finish it, and you may notice that his lips move along with the lines. At last, he hands back the paper. "Drat. I hate using my sap. Just not fair to ruin an honorable fight with a less-than weapon. " He shakes his head. "As much as I want to visit the brewhouse first, I fear we may have already had a bit much. " He laughs and pats Umberto on the back. "Perhaps we are best to start at the top of the list and move down from there. "
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"Well, tha' will be 3 dwarves then, I guess. Whaddya know?" he says with amusement as he watches Newmark read the letter. When Lumo speaks, Brax can hardly contain a look of surprise, though he suppresses it quickly. "Thas' a big one there, tha' is. Today's gonna be a big one thas' for sure. A day o' firsts. Never traveled with a Najagi..Naggaii... I mean serpent folk before either. An' a follower o' tha' Lord in Iron, too. Looks like we are ready for a fight." he thinks to himself. Looking over the dwarf reading the parchment, he spits another wad into the mud where it promptly disappears, mixing into the muck. "Can I take a look at tha' when you're done over there? he says to Newmark.
Reading the paper, he looks at the group. "I'm not seeing where it says we can't hurt 'em. Just says don't kill 'em."
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"Har! A dwarf with no social graces. What is the world coming to?"
Reidog throws off his previous grumpiness and lets out a loud laugh.
"Yer a bit late there, newcomer. We missed ye at the bar. Don't think we saved any ale fer ya. I think Cailean is all out."
When he finishes laughing off that jest. He examines Newark's clothes and notices a distinct lack of armor.
"Ah, so yer must be the requisite spellcaster, eh? Well, They'll Break on Our Shields, so yer should be safe being the magic against magic.
Here, I picked up this new wand here. If the situation should call for better control of the field, yer can make us all bigger then ogres. Just mind, cause magic don't always affect me so well. Something about me lineage."
Reudig hands him his wand of enlarge person.
"As fer the witnesses, top ta bottom, bottom ta top, we're gonna see em all, so let's get started."
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Newmark spits after reading the letter and hands it to Braxen, About what I expected... Newmark says to no one in particular. He looks at the wand Reidog gave him to hold, with curiosity. Hrrph! So what's the command word to activate it then?
Newmark waves his hand it front of his face as he gets a whiff of his new comrades breathe... I'm with the Nagaji, let's start with this Rialla...person..I think, I may know this curio shop, across from Cayden's Hall. Newmark steps out of the stable, to grab a breathe of fresh air. When he see's some of the others emerge, he starts heading up the hill to Cayden's hall, as if it's all been decided. Before going too far, he looks over his shoulder and says, We'll not be paying a visit to Cayden's hall while we're up there gents...by the looks and smell of all ye...you've been at it pretty good this morning, anyway. There's very little mirth, in Newmark's remarks.
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"The command word? Yer can see the dwarven runes there on the wand, 'A Noble Spirit Embiggens the Smallest Man'. So, 'A Noble Spirit', in Dwarvish naturally.
The gnome what gave it to me cracked up laughing every time he said it, though I told him I didn't think 'Embiggens' was a real word.
Strange feller, that gnome. Had a tongue that looked like it were made o' silver."
Reidog trails off as Umberto starts to get farther away from the rest of the group. He begins casting his eyes over the people in the street, trying to look for any criminal elements taking an interest in the lone priest.
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Lumo laughs at Brex's remarks. "Aye, 'three dwarves and a nagaji go on an adventure.' Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke!" He laughs loudly, echoing throughout the stable.
On the way out of the door he turns to the more surly dwarf. "Course we won't be visiting there! Don't want to fill up before Erastil's Alehouse!" He winks at Umberto as he strides ahead. "T'would be rude to refuse an ale whilst at an alehouse! Wouldn't want to offend any gods."
The stalwart agents discuss how best to proceed with their assigned mission. As the engage in dialogue, Braxen recalls some information that may be relevant to the party's upcoming investigation.
The God’s Market is a sort of bazaar filled with various vendors hawking all sorts of religious items. All of the major gods are represented, as are many minor gods. One can purchase religious texts, items of worship, holy water, and even minor blessings in the God’s Market.
The God’s Market is policed by a group of guards called the Graycloaks. They are sworn to hold no god above any other and are all staunch atheists. They are easily identified by their plain, unadorned gray cloaks, but wear nothing else to make them stand out.
Working their way down the list, the agents set out to locate Rialla Barleyhusk. Working off the information from the mission note, the group easily locates a shop across from Cayden's Hall...
This brick building is fronted by two large, many-paned glass windows and a large sign that reads, “Mercantile, Curiosities, Unique Items, and Magic—Bought and Sold Within.” Inside the store, the shelves are lined with all manner of goods, crafts, and artwork both domestic and foreign. A halfling clerk sits on a large stool behind a human-sized countertop.
The halfling woman smiles as what she sees as new customers enter her shop.
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As they walk towards their first stop, Brax hands a gnarled piece of wood over to Lumo. "Here ya go. In case we are in needa' healing. At some point. Would have handed it to that Umberto but he's in a bit o' a hurry."
"From what I know a' tha' God's Market, seems tha' just about anythin' havin' ta' do with tha' Gods can be bought and sold here. These Greycloaks that Kreighton was talkin' about are atheists who serve as guards for tha' place. Sound like trouble ta' me, but hopefully they're alright." Brax says to anyone within earshot as he makes his way inside the shop. While waiting for the halfling's response, he begins perusing through the goods, stopping and examining any interesting ones.
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Lumo gladly accepts the wand from Brax and slides it into his belt beside two other wands. I love the Pathfinder Society. Nobody knows I flunked out of temple the first time. Everyone trusts me with their holy wands, and they let me hit things and save people! Best job ever. He smiles and continues along. "Thank you, Brax. Gorum will invigorate us during combat, and I will use your wand after we have vanquished our foes. "
Once in the shop, Lumo smiles at the small woman and tries not the be intimidating. "Hello. Very nice shop, here. "
The party wisely takes steps to not appear intimidating, spreading out and allowing Umberto to question the shopkeep. Reidog keeps a watch outside and does not see anything out of the ordinary. Newmark looks through the shop's wares but does not find anything the dwarf would consider remarkable.
As Umburto speaks to the halfling, she looks up with an enthusiastic grin. "I am Rialla" she responds to the warpreist's inquiry "oh, you want to know about the thefts?"
Barleyhusk’s excitement is palpable, and she rambles everything in one long, breathless speech. “That poor man you asked about who was attacked, he looked a right mess, he had an arrow in his side, and he could barely walk. I sat him down and started to bandage him up. Then all of a sudden the Graycloak was there and asked if I had a potion to fix him up. I said I could patch him right up because I took a class from Berntuck’s Fine School of First Aid. That Graycloak gave me the nastiest look and said the Graycloaks would pay full price for the potion. Well, I knew the master had some peppermint-flavored healing potions that weren’t selling very well, so I ran back to get the potions and before I could even get to them, I hear the injured fellow gasp really loud. ‘Hurry!’ the bossy Graycloak said, so I ran back as fast as I could, but when I got there, he was already dead.”
The halfling quietly sobers up as she finishes her story, and walks back behind the counter and climbs onto her stool. “I was too slow.”
The halfling's face draws down, clearly effected by her experience with the robbery.
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Newmark abandons all pretense of being a customer and walks strait to the counter..This Graycloak, the one that suddenly showed up what did he or she look like? How long was it after our friend was shot that, this Graycloak showed up? There's urgency in Newmark's voice, but he tries to make an effort to be civil.
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"Well, seems we'll be needin' ta speak ta the Graycloaks one way or another. Way she describes it; seems a bit fishy on there part, but I guess tha' remains ta' be seen." Brax says with a curious look.
"So Rialla, ya didn't get a look at who shot the man? Information we have is you were a witness to tha' robbery."
The halfling woman still seems shaken up from her ordeal. "I...I did not get a good look at the greycloak...she was a woman, tall, dark features. I'm sorry but that's really all I remember.." The shopkeeper looks on the verge of tears, clearly upset that she was unable to save the victim of the crime.
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Newmark steps outside the shop with Lumo and slaps his closed fist, in to his open palm, in frustration...Bah! Woman, was all nerves! She probably knows something more but, is too rattle-brained to recall! What we did learn, may be somewhat useful. However, it is nothing that, has not already been relayed to us. The woman Graycloak, being on the scene so soon is suspicious...but, the Graycloaks are the local militia for the God's Market so, it's hardly outrageous that she was here. Still, perhaps we ought to inquire with the Graycloaks, as to who was on duty in this neighborhood, when the attack happened? What do you think, my scaled companion? Newmark seems genuinely interested, in the Nagaji's opinion. A rare look of uncertainty, crosses the Dwarf wizard's face.
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Reidog listens to the conversation and picks up the gist of what was revealed.
"So, there is a person of interest who at least appeared to be a Graycloak. That's just wonderful.
Hopefully, it is someone pretending ta be with the guards, else we're gonna need some strong evidence."
Reidog will keep his eye out for Graycloaks who are walking around.
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Lumo looks down at Newmark with a smile. "I think you are right, my friend. We must inquire with the Greycloaks. But, perhaps we best build up our case a little more first. Maybe we visit our other witness first. " The large man shrugs. "Either way, that archer is going to get what's coming to her. "
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“Well....” Brax says, clearly a bit uncomfortable with the halfling’s feelings of guilt as he steps awkwardly away from the shopkeeper and into the street. “Best leave tha’ ta’ a man o’ tha’ cloth.” he thinks to himself. Overhearing the large Nagaji and 2 dwarves conversation, he pipes up. “Yeah, think we need ta’ make the Greycloaks our las’ stop. Things could get nasty if we start throwing accusations ‘round. We ain’t got much love lost between tha’ Society and the Greycloaks according ta’ the elf what gave us tha’ mission.”
Rialla nods and seems to genuinely appreciate the comforting words offered. She wipes her tears with a cloth from her pocket and wishes the group luck with their investigation.
Heeding Lumo's advice, the party works their way down the list of possible witnesses and set out to interview Friar Horace. As the party makes their way to Erastil's Ale House they are met by a pair of rough looking men, one with his hand on the scruff of a snarling dog. Before the party can react, the man lets go of the dog and the mutt makes straight for the party. The two thugs raise crossbows and take aim...
***ROUND 1***
Newmark
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Thugs
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Reidog
Brax
Umberto
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Dog
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Lumo