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Filios relaxes at a table in the lodge, sitting with his back to the wall and a view of the room. He casually sips at a glass of wine of Kyonin vintage as he awaits the arrival of the new venture-captain. The hilt of his Elven Curveblade sticking up over his left shoulder as it is sheathed across his back.
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A young woman dressed in the latest Taldan men's style of clothing enters the room. Her expression is self-assured, even a little cocky, but her eyes bear more than a little wit in them. Brown haired and amber eyed, she is otherwise not very remarkable. Slightly pretty, but masculine, she wears a pair of short swords on her hips, and a bearing that challenges any man to make something of it.
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A clean cut and well groomed young man enters the room, clad in a foreign looking chainmail with round breast plates. A Morning Star hangs from one hip and Longsword from the other. A wayfinder in the shape of some sort of obscure holy symbol hangs about his neck.
His expression is cold and somewhat remote, haughty even. He clicks the heels of his boots and gives each a perfunctory shallow bow.
I am Luccinus de Concorezio, he announces in Chellish accented Taldan.
He then takes a seat, putting his helmet on the table 6 inches to the left of his seat and 6 inches from the edge before settling patently.
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I would prefer Luccinus, if you please, he says formally and with a touch of frost in his tone.
Well met Filos of the family Philandril. As you say preparedness is a virtue.
He seems well mannered but its as if he is using a system of etiquette more formal than most, and seems like he is ticking off boxes rather than responding out of any genuine warmth or desire to be friendly.
Eliza Petulengro appears in the hall suddenly, a stack of chronicles in her arms, and looks you over before speaking. "I believe we have one more on the way but you can fill them in later."
"My greatest pupil, Pathfinder Bodriggan Wuthers, has gone missing. He followed a cleric contact back to Wuthers’s home city of Oppara to work on a massive dig beneath the House of the Immortal Son, Oppara’s famed opera house and once temple to the dead god, Aroden. That was a year ago. He sent monthly reports, hoping to see their publication in a chronicle, before all contact dried up a few months back. I’m worried something has gone wrong, and the Society has a vested interest in the artifact he was researching and seeking. We want you to travel to Oppara and find Wuthers. We’d like to know exactly what he was seeking, too, since he neglected to inform us through his monthly correspondence. He hinted only that the cleric of Irori he was working with told him the object was the world’s greatest ‘living’ artifact—whatever that means.
"I have a few tidbits of information to pass to you before you go: the House of the Immortal Son is nearly impossible to access. It took Wuthers months and countless bribes to get where he did. For you, I have a much simpler idea. Go to an opera, wait for an opportunity, and then exploit it to find Wuthers and his dig site.
"Be sure to wear something festive—the Taldan nobility are arrogant on their best days and if you arrive at the opera dressed like that," she waves a hand at the entire company, "they’ll surely lose your tickets or regret to inform you that the opera house is oversold.
"Go and report back to me directly upon your return to Absalom."
I’ve missed you terribly these past months and even today spent hours longing for your company. Alas, I’ve been told you’re being sent to dreary Oppara, the so-called gilded capital of loathsome Taldor. If only you could see the frown upon my face, you would know the sadness I feel at seeing you sent away again. Since you’re headed that way, I’ve enclosed a letter I’d like you to deliver for me. It bears the seal of a Qadiran merchant prince we bought ages ago, and I’d like you to make certain it ends up in the hands of Taldan nobility. I care not how they receive it—in their pocket, slipped onto an official’s desk, dropped on a well-dressed corpse... how you choose to serve Cheliax is entirely up to you. One last thing: open the letter and I’ll personally see to it that you burn in the fires of hell.
All my love,
Paracountess Zarta Dralneen
The faintest of whispered rumor has reached my ears and they say to me that you are to be sent across the Inner Sea to decadent Taldor’s capital to attend an opera. I won’t spend a moment of this letter wondering why the Pathfinder Society, in its wisdom, has determined that your time is better spent in fine clothing, on soft cushions, and sipping fine wines when you could be dressed in armor, slogging through jungles, and finding the rarest of the world’s objects and bringing news of their discoveries to me. It occurs to me that your vacation in the gilded city could be of some use to the Ruby Prince. Emperor Stavian III of Taldor himself is said to sometimes attend the opera at the House of the Immortal Son, and it would benefit Osirion greatly if we could listen in on his inane conversations while he relaxes and watches his subjects perform for him. I’ve enclosed a small stone, a trifle no larger than your thumb that I wish for you to leave behind after the opera is over. Specifically, there is an entrance to the House of the Immortal Son that is bedecked with a violet carpet—this is the Emperor’s exclusive entrance. Leave the stone there—in a crack of granite, under the rug, inside a lamp, the choice is up to you. Be sure where you leave it, though, is somewhere not easily discovered by the opera house’s cleaning crew. One last thing: it is forbidden for anyone not of the royal court to enter the hallway in question, so you’ll need your finest subterfuge to gain access. I’m sure you will succeed.
In All Sincerity,
Amenopheus, The Sapphire Sage
My jealousy knows no bounds. It has been a decade since I saw our glorious capital, the gilded city of Golarion. And to return to see an opera at the famed House of the Immortal Son, no less-you will be the envy of all your brethren. I have it on good authority that our Emperor’s consul for the fourth district of Oppara Prefecture, Magistros Sebastus Hustavan, will be attendance for the opera called Among the Living at the Immortal Son the night you arrive. Be sure you attend that opera specifically and give Hustavan a message for me—tell him Baron Dalsine is aware of the secret account, that we know who funds it, and that he’d best be ready to tell me everything when he travels to Absalom next month as part of a diplomatic mission. Do it quietly, out of earshot of your companions, and you’ll have my thanks.
With Sincerest Gratitude,
Baron Jacquo Dalsine
Word has reached my ears that you are to be sent to Oppara to attend an opera. Try not to let the decadence of Taldan society sway you from our cause—Taldor is our mortal enemy and to that end, I ask you to spy on them. Many members of the Taldan elitist nobility will be present at that opera. Befriend one and convince him that ours is the greater cause—for his money pouch. Enclosed you’ll find a satchel of gold trade bars be certain that he knows this is just a taste, and receive assurances from him that he’ll give us what we ask for when the time is right. It’s probably too much to hope for, but if he’s a civil servant, an underpaid member of low nobility slogging away in service to his retched bureaucratic Empire—why, that would serve Andoran the best.
Sincerely,
Captain Colson Maldris
How I envy you! To attend an opera in the heart of our enemy’s capital must truly fill you with a mixture of excitement and disgust. When the merchant princes gather and wonder aloud within my hearing whether the sizeable investment we’ve placed in those, like you, who serve the Satrap from within the Pathfinder Society is worth it, I can finally tell them that Pathfinders, the great heroes of Taldan nobility, can move freely in Oppara without attracting the sort of attention a full-blown merchant caravan of Sedeq might garner as it prances into the so-called gilded city. Of course, I can only dare challenge them on this subject with a success to report—your success. There will be many wealthy merchants of Taldor in attendance at the House of the Immortal Son. They are a celebratory, rude, and drunken lot whose idea of social grace is to willingly destroy or give away expensive personal possessions for all to see, hoping it’ll raise their status as super wealthy so that the petulant Emperor, the man-boy Stavian III, might take notice of them and raise them to his royal court. To this end, I wish for you to acquire the livery of at least two merchant houses. Once the opera is over, they’ll surely be drinking excessively in the house’s bar, and with some manipulation and clever bargaining, I’ve no doubt you’ll be able to get what we require.
Kind Regards,
Pasha Muhlia Al-Jakri
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Another Pathfinder rushes in to the Grand Lodge just quick enough to catch the tail-end of Eliza Petulengro's briefing, her face flushed from the obvious exertion of rushing here in time. She apologises profusely for her lateness, explaining that she had been caught up when a wagon overturned and she stayed behind to help the farmer gather up all his wares. The woman listens carefully to the latter half of the VC's words, getting the rest of the story from someone else once she is completed. She speaks with a noticeable Tian accent, although is still quite understandable.
Saki is a slim but quite fit young Tian woman with deep blue eyes and dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She wears exquisitely-crafted full plate armor, the greaves stylised like songbirds and the centrepiece engraved with birds perched on cherry blossom boughs. She is equipped with a glaive decorated with beadwork, and she moves with a preternatural grace and confidence.
"Oh, Filios! Hello there," Saki greets the elf with a smile and a friendly wave. "Good to see you again."
Saki also bows her head slightly to the other, newer faces. "Nice to meet you all," she says warmly, still smiling. "My name is Saki Kanazawa, humble servant of the Lady of Chrysanthemums, Shelyn."
Once the greetings are all over, Saki will join the others in canvassing the Grand Lodge, asking about Bodriggan Wuthers. Unfortunately, her missing the first half of Eliza's briefing makes it hard to ask specific questions.
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Moll's eyes widen a little at the fact they will be travelling to Oppara. "Why did it have to be Oppara?" she mutters.
With a resigned sigh and a smirk, she turns to the rest of the group. "Well, we shall be travelling to my homeland, it seems. I don't relish the thought, but hopefully my familiarity with Oppara will be of some use." she says. "Moll Frith, called Moll Cutpurse back in Oppara." Moll gives a bow with a flourish.
She raises an eyebrow at Kyroden. "If you like. I know an excellent tailor here in Absalom. I'll introduce you to him."
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Coming in remarkably late, a thin elf in robes walks in, a book levitating to his left. A dark raven rests on his shoulder, rock still except for the occasional blink. As he crosses the doorway the book closes itself and floats back to the wizards backpack, and he takes a quick glance around the room "Excuse my tardiness, but I met an entire group of tieflings on my way here. I began a conversation with them about their heritage and..." he looks around for a moment, realizing he's prattling on "Well long story short they tried to mug me. However I'm here, un-mugged, and ready to travel!"
As Tiasar learns the details about their mission he smiles broadly "An Opera! Well this is a nice change of pace from marching in whatever god forsaken wilderness we're normally sent to. However, my last set of dress clothes are horribly...well destroyed. You see I had a baby dragon and...well I don't have him anymore. Apparently it's rather illegal to keep one in the city, and when the guards came knocking the poor thing panicked. In his defense he didn't mean to burn half the building down, but it was entirely the guards fault anyways! I mean really, bursting in like that!"
The party goes about the Lodge asking about Wuthers and while some are more successful than others, you are able to piece together most of his story. He was, apparently, a very well-known Pathfinder.
Bodriggan Wuthers was an orphan of unknown ancestry, found 20 years ago on the doorstep of the Pathfinder Lodge of Taldor’s capital, Oppara. He was raised in an orphanage, but the Taldan Pathfinders made it a point to look in on him from time to time, encouraging the boy’s curiosity and pushing him toward the life of the vagabond scholar. They got what they desired. When Wuthers turned 16, he left the orphanage behind and traveled to Absalom to join the Pathfinder Society. After a few years of training and following Venture-Captain Eliza Petulengro, Wuthers settled easily into his routine, traveling Avistan and Garund seeking greater glory for himself and the Society through treasure hunting. He quickly made a name for himself, battling through a host of demon-possessed apes in the Screaming Jungle at age 18 to recover the Garls Harp, an Azlanti musical instrument thought lost to time and memory. His tale of that find saw his first of many reports appear in the Pathfinder Chronicles and his fame as a Pathfinder was sewn into the fabric of the Society.
The party then heads out to Oppara and arrives some time later in the jeweled city of opulence and extravagance. [/ooc]You have an opportunity to pick up any gear you might need before you head to the opera tonight. Those of you interested in buying some better clothes, here is one (rather expensive at this level) option:[/ooc]
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Throughout the trip to Oppara, Saki seems in quite high spirits, chatting excitedly to anyone who would listen about how great of an opportunity it was for them all to see a real-life opera in the course of their business as Pathfinders. "The Venture-Captains are doing their best to keep me from retiring... first a wedding, then now an opera? They certainly know the best way to keep me interested!"
When conversation moves to their approach to the House of the Immortal Son itself, however, Saki seems moderately concerned. "Experience has taught me," she glances at Filios, "that a mission from the Pathfinder Society - even in seemingly peaceful situations such as an opera - is one that will no doubt be fraught with danger. I am hesitant to arrive unarmed in case the worst happens."
"I therefore propose a solution," Saki turns to the rest of the group with a smile. "If one of you would accept me as your bodyguard for this mission, it would not be an untruth for me to arrive as your guard--and hence arrive armed and armoured. It is not so much of a stretch for a nobleman to move around with guards in tow. Perhaps one of the spellcasters who do not rely on steel to protect themselves would be able to pose as one."
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Tiasar ponders Saki for a moment "What an ingenious idea. Well Mrs.Bodyguard, you're hired! I think I actually will feel much safer with a Paladin watching my back. Oh have I ever told you about the Aasimar Paladin I had the pleasure to travel with? Such a nice fellow, one of the few half-beings that allowed me to question to my content. I mean he was about as educated on the infinite planes as your typical fighter, but it was still nice on his part" he looks around for a moment, then realizes there's two fighters and a paladin standing in front of him "Not that I mean anything by that of course! Absolutely nothing wrong with being martial! I mean yes your knowledge of certain subjects are lacking or completely non-existent but..." he stops "I'm going to stop prattling on now and go get some nicer clothes"
As Tiasar goes on about the Paladin, the raven on his shoulder turns its head towards Saki. It narrows its eyes, and after a moment it speaks "A bodyguard. Hmph" the raven ruffles it's feathers
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Saki bows her head slightly to Tiasar, although she smiles jokingly as she does so. "Well then, my charge, I do solemnly swear to protect you with my life. Not that I wouldn't have done so already, but..."
She seems to be more amused by Tiasar's offhand slights rather than anything. "I may not know much about the far planes, but I'm sure I could teach you a thing or two about the arts. How familiar are you with Tian poetry, or glaive dances, hmm?"
Turning to the stuffy raven, she gives it a smile as well. "Wouldn't want you to have to find a new master, sir raven. Or madam, I'm not quite sure."
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Tiasar smiles, seeming genuinely interested "I'll make you a deal. On the way to the Opera instruct me in poetry and dancing, and on the way back I'll tell you how Aasimar's manifest on the material plane" he waves a hand towards Morde "It's a he, and you don't have to call him sir anymore than you do to me. He can be rather insufferable if he doesn't like you"
Morde's feathers fluff up in what appears to be a physical show of anger, although it looks more comical than anything "I am more than capable of defending my master, half the time he couldn't walk if I wasn't his third eye"
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Kyroden smirks at the exchange between the Raven & the Paladin. Tell me wise Tismar what do you know of the Emperor of Taladan and their history ? I was wondering what school where you trained at for your Art? I my self recently learned alchemical practices from good friend who resides in the Ruby Court Orison. Kyroden asks
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Tiasar pauses at the question, then opens his mouth and raises a finger, then pauses and closes his mouth. He sits there for a moment, then speaks quieter than he did before "I never went to an established center for the arcane. I was a student of Whirrun of Bligh, or Cracknut Whirrun. Yes, the very same one who attempted to conjoin different planes and so destroyed half a forest. While he was mad and his goals were heresy, the elf was a genius. He taught me much before he leveled his house in a duel with me"
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Kyroden listens with full attention, he strokes how beard. Then holds his hand up which has ring on it. The ring is made from steel with a thorn pattern. Kyroden stairs at it then touches his mace with same hand. He looks fearful and is very firm as if his inner questioning has come to end. Dear Tismar do you think it is possible to for a dear lover to who died to give you power? Kyroden asks the Wizard.
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Lucinnus rides through the journey uncommunicative and speaking only when spoken to or by necessity. Every morning he rises earlier that the rest to do calisthenics, and properly groom himself. Each night he polishes his armour and weapons before sleeping and he never takes more than two drinks with each meal.
He is a very regimented man.