Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng’s pinched face is hard to see from behind the stack of books that divide the front of his office from the space behind his desk. A shockingly old man with white hair and slightly milky eyes, he is surprised by the appearance of outsiders in his office, and looks up, half startled and half relieved.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’d been meaning to give this assignment to you at a later date, and with less pressing time constraints, but it seems that time has conspired against us.” Dreng mumbles to himself as he passes out a stack of notes and maps from behind the wall of books. “These notes are from a recent Chronicle—it contains some interesting finds, but one of them is now the utmost priority to the Society.”
Dreng lightly taps a bony finger on a map, on which can be seen a section of Absalom with a small corner townhouse circled in deep red.
“This townhouse is a façade for an underground vault. The vault belonged to an old noble family of Absalom that was expelled a decade ago—the Decklands. The family was forced out when their patriarch—a man known as Orias—was discovered to have written documents detailing the city’s defenses, documents he intended to hand over to hostile forces loyal to Cheliax. The Chronicle indicates that a copy of these documents exist within the vault.
“A Pathfinder looking into the Decklands and their Chronicle references in Cheliax was attacked and killed ten days ago. The thugs made off with a copy of his notes—fortunately, he’d already sent us another. We have reason to believe it was the work of the Decklands’ oldest child, a young woman named Celeena, and she’s the reason this assignment is now urgent. The fact that Celeena and her forces were willing to kill a Pathfinder for this information shows how desperate they are to retrieve the documents. If she was able to get these documents and return them to Cheliax, it would undermine the defenses of the whole city, as well as cause the Society undue headaches. Find Celeena, find the documents in her vault, and prevent this situation from turning into one big mess for the Society.”
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Walking in after knocking, Saint Germaine stands there solemnly and listens to the briefing, taking notes in a personal journal from time to time. He is curious why Dreng finds it so unbelievable that the Chelish would murder a Pathfinder agent. It's not like they have ever held any fondness for the Society after all, and with us being in exile there, and their harlot spokeswoman in disfavor, . . ., but back to the task at hand.
"Do we know anything about this Chelish woman, Celeena? Is she acting against her family in this?"
Saint Germaine stands just over 6 ft tall, with an athletic build. Dressed like a warrior, he wears knightly full platemail armor, with small religious and celestial glyphs and iconography on it. In one hand he carries a Bastard Sword, indicating he is a follower of the general of heaven's armies, the Empyreal Lord Ragathiel. He also carries a large wooden shield though it appears very light. Over the armor he wears a Mendev tabard, indicating he might have done a tour there, and across it two bandoliers, each latch stuffed with some sort of alchemical agent.
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A towering, broad-shouldered half-orc walks into Dreng’s office, looking as rough as Saint Germaine looks refined. His mottled green skin stands in stark contrast to the jagged blue tattoos that cover his face, neck and arms. He wears a finely-crafted steel breastplate over a worn, tattered jerkin of some indeterminate dark shade, and a heavy, curved sword of black iron rests at his hip. As he moves across the room, his small, red-tinged eyes flick quickly from side to side as he, getting a feel for his surroundings.
On seeing the great stacks of books and papers, those same eyes roll upward. Ah, not again! Sent off to track down a bunch of books, it sounds like, just like the library in Oppara. Ah, well, they’ve taken me in when none would have me, and it was a lucky thing I was there, even if I don’t know a thing about books. He turns his attention to Dreng and the account of the Decklands family, studying his fellow Pathfinders while he’s at it.
When the Venture-Captain has finished speaking, and the tall, knightly fellow has asked his question, Mohok adds one of his own. In a deep, rumbling voice, he says, ”He was gonna turn the city over to a bunch of devil-worshippers, eh? Can’t stand a turncoat! I wonder if they had something on ‘im, or what they promised him.”
Turning to Saint Germaine, Mohok gestures at the Mendev tabard the man wears and says, ”You’ve fought there too, huh? I spent some time there – got a real hate on for demons, ya know? – but never felt too welcome. Still, it’s always nice to meet another demon-fighter.” He hesitates awkwardly a moment, as if he's not used to such pleasantries, then extends a meaty hand, the gnarled nails and exaggerated knuckles quite a sight to see, and says in his bass voice, ”Name’s Mohok.”
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"Saint Germaine. And, yes, I have spent a while in Mendev, even before this recent blitz. Honestly, cant say which I have more, devils or the demons, or any fools that believe they can control them, for that matter." After thinking about it a second, "Mohok made an important point we should consider. Did Cheliax have anything on Orias, or the family? Why would they turn?"
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A middle-aged woman pops her head in the doorway, and her silver-streaked mop of black hair shakes as she starts at the sight of the Pathfinders already assembled. She steps in gingerly, looking over the Agents' armor and weapons and then curtsies to the Venture-Captain. "So this is a real mission, then?" She sits down with a grin to listen to the details of the mission and skims through the notes passed around. Her grin fades as she hears the summary.
"Murderous b~!!+." She looks up and explains her anger. "It sounds like that Pathfinder was on one of those jobs you don't expect to get attacked on. It could've been any of us. It could've been my husband. He did enough academic work for the Society. It could've been me - I've been binding and delivering spellbooks since I joined." She turns back to Dreng, a gleam in her grey eyes, "It's okay if we kill her, then?"
At the end of the meeting, she introduces herself to her fellows. "I'm Corrina Rand. My husband has been with the Society for 10 years, though mostly academic work, as I said. Now that the kids are grown, I've been able to join myself. I was really looking forward to my first real mission, but I was hoping it'd be more fun than avenging a murdered Pathfinder."
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"Now that's funny," Mohok rumbles in response to Corrina, "I've been chasin' after books for the Society, when what I expected was to be avenging murders and such. Believe me, if books are yer thing, you'll get a swing at 'em." He hesitates, almost appearing nervous, before reaching his great big hand out to Corrina and saying, "Hello, Corrina. I'm Mohok."
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Charles Pascal Quillen, first of his name, lounged like a sleepy cat in the mid-afternoon sun on Drendle Dreng's sofa. With a final drag from his cigarette, he tosses it non-nonchalantly out the window.
Shrugging, he stands and reveals the entirety of his frame - nearly 3 feet of honed swordsman. The halfling is impeccably groomed, his moustache neatly trimmed and his curly black hair slicked back and capped with a colorful hat.
"Mendev... Demons..."
With a scowl on his face, he leveled his eyes on the other Pathfinders.
"I 'ave zeen demons a'plenty. I was zere when zey stormed ze walls of ze Diamond Zity. I was zere on ze battlements providing cover for ze most zeasoned of ze Zociety as zey took on glabrezus and worse..."
Patting his shirt, Quillen tugs out another pack of cigarettes only to realize he has emptied it of its contents already this morning.
"Merde. Already?"
Frowning, he tosses the empty pack out the window without care as to where it lands.
"But today, no demons it seems, and zat is good. Just a traitorous turncoat who wishes to zell zity zecrets..."
Patting the tiniest of rapiers at his hip, Quillen betrays the barest of smiles.
"Zese I know how to deal with quite well."
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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.
Listening to Drandle Dreng intently as if she was concentrating real hard, the aasimar doesn't utter a word at first. When the Venture-Captain is finished with his briefing though, she nods in agreement, recapping the various things she's heard. "Go into Vault, race the Chelaxians for the copy of the texts, stop Celeena. Got it."
Her face features then relax, and she seems to become quite a different person, much friendlier, even motherly. She greets every one of her companions with a broad smile and - for Corrina - a warm hug. "I'm so sorry, my name is Ennoia, and I'll be protecting you. I would have introduced myself earlier, but you have to understand that I sometimes tend to pay too little attention to the briefing, and then we leave and the Venture-Captain isn't here anymore to repeat it. I promised the Venture-Captain I'd try real hard not to come back later for more information this time, so that's why I may have appeared cold at first. I'm a holy servant of Falayna, by the way. Demon and Devil hunting is a speciatly of mine." Saying that, she gives an understanding nod at Saint Germaine.
"Do we know anything about this Chelish woman, Celeena? Is she acting against her family in this?"
"I can't say I know much more about her but we do know that she's not alone. The agents in Cheliax report that Celeena hired mercenaries from the Devil’s Claw Company, a mercenary organization of failed Hellknights."
"Did Cheliax have anything on Orias, or the family? Why would they turn?"
"It seems to have been an effort to protect his family. Orias was a beloved Absalom nobleman until 10 years ago, when he was forced out of the city. Rumors have it that Cheliax agents threatened young Celeena’s life and Orias felt he had know recourse but to betray Absalom’s defenses. I can only imagine the hardship the man had to endure for the safety of his family."
"It's okay if we kill her, then?"
"It might be worth apprehending her, but I will let you make that decision when the time comes."
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"Hellknights? They're from Cheliax, too, aren't they? So, rather than protecting Orias from the Chelaxians, they delivered him into their servitude. Well, it seems Celeena's taken to her adopted homeland."
Despite the grim nature of the mission, Corrina's grin returns as she chats with her teammates for this assignment.
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Hands clasped behind his back, Quillen paces along the front of the sofa while Dreng continues to provide more details on their assignment.
"Apprehend? Zis may be difficult. Often zey give us little choice when zey are faced with ze choice between live and death. We shall see how wise this Zeleena is..."
Quillen takes a few steps over to the open window and looks longingly out at his discarded cigarette and pack.
"Zo. We may not be facing ze demons of ze Worldwound this day, but ze devils of Chelaix instead? What do we know about ze devils?"
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As Corrina speaks of Celeena turning to the Chelish cause, Mohok raises a hand and says, "Now hold a moment, let's not decide about her so fast. They drove me from my home in Belkzen because they thought me too human, and in Mendev they judged me mostly orc and made it clear I wasn't welcome there either. So take care in judging by appearances."
He gestures at Venture-Captain Dreng and says, "As we've heard, Orias did what he did to protect his child, maybe Celeena is doing the same? Corinna, you'd do most anything to protect your children, even now that they're grown, right?"
Mohok's delivery isn't especially erudite, but it's clear he is no fool, for all his brusque, uneducated demeanor. He looks at his newfound companions a moment, shrugs, and says, "But if she did kill a Pathfinder for her own gain, or because it was the easy way to do a job, I'll cut her down as soon as breathing."
He then looks back to Corinna, "Silver, you say? I've got an iron blade, good against demons, but no silver. Looks like we'll have to figure something out." Turning to Dreng, he says, "Do you know any other way to make our weapons work against devils, since the Chells might be working with 'em?"
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Quillen gives a stern look towards Mohok.
"Ze best Pathfinders are always prepared for anything!"
Evoking a militiaman in a march, the tiny halfling pivots on a heel and marches over to his supplies nearly stacked in a corner of Dreng's office before returning with a small quiver.
"Wah-la!"
With a gesture, Quillen indicates twenty silver-tipped arrows.
"We will want more than just a silver weapon, but silver ammunition! Zere is no telling if zese devils will be ze kind with wings or not."
The diminutive halfling gives Dreng a final salute before collecting his possessions and marching towards the doors.
"Well? What are we waiting for? We have a vault to zecure!"
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Mohok can't help but grin a bit at the fierce look given him by Quillen, who might be able to bite Mohok on the wrist if he stood on a box. The tattooed half-orc then studies the bundle of arrows that Quillen holds up and asks, "You call that a wah-la where you come from? I just call 'em arrows. But them silver arrowheads look like they'd work against devils, from what Corinna says."
As Quillen makes his martial progress toward the door, Mohok says, "Fine, let's get going. But I'll need to make a stop on our way, to pick up a silvered weapon, and maybe some of that blanch stuff you can put on arrowheads. Probably cheaper than those silver ones you bought, Quillen!" This comment is punctuated by a noise that sounds like boulders bounding down a mountain slope, but after a moment it becomes clear that Mohok is laughing at his own joke, and that he's blissfully unaware that the joke is on him.
The party runs out for some last-minute supplies and then proceeds to the townhouse, under which lie the vaults you were told to investigate.
Sitting on the corner of a quiet street, the red brick Deckland townhouse melds in with the middle class buildings in this portion of Absalom. A small, flickering candle can be seen through a barred window on the building’s west side and a single door can be seen on the building’s south face.
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Seeing the candle flickering in the window, Mohok offers, "Hmmm, I figgered this place'd be empty, since it's a cover for the vault, but it looks like someone's home. I think I'll take a peek inside." He approaches any ground-level windows and peers inside, his orcish ability to see in the dark making it possible for him to examine even any unlit rooms.
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"It could be a continual flame cast on a candle. Would require no maintenance, but look like the house is occupied to a casual passer-by."
"Don't be a hero. Not yet, anyway." Corrina cautions Mohok as he makes his way to the windows. As he checks the windows, she keeps him in sight if he rounds the corner to check the front.
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Quillen marches with the others to the Deckland house, early taking only a few minutes to visit one of his preferred tobacco merchants in Absalom.
As he spots the candle in the window, he pauses for a moment to light a new cigarette from his freshly purchased pack while he effects something of a non-nonchalant pose.
"I will wait ere while ze half-orc flushes out any danger from ze house."
As Mohok approaches the barred window, he hears the distinctive sounds of two men arguing, seemingly over a card game. Indeed, glancing inside he sees them sitting at a table with cards strewn about.
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Mohok makes his way back to his fellow Pathfinders and says, "There's a coupla fellows arguin' over a card game, seem pretty focused on their squabble. They don't know we're here, so I say we try to get inside and get the drop on 'em, odds are they're working with Celeena if they're inside, right?"
He glances at Quillen and says, "I know I said ya shouldn't judge by appearances, but I'm thinkin' you might be able to get that door open pretty quietly. Care to take a shot at it, once you've finished yer smoke there?"
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Quillen takes a long draw on his current vice and meets Mohok's eyes.
Just when it seems he is about to answer, he doesn't - instead taking a second long draw.
"Zis is true. Zere is no lock zat can resist ze delicate carress of Charles Pascal Quillen."
Swinging his pack around his shoulder, the halfling reaches in and fetches a tiny box before returning it to his shoulder.
Tossing his garot to the ground where it continues to smolder, he works his way around to the front door and sees if he can tease the locked portal open.
Quillen moves up and easily unlocks the door but fails to notice that a simple string-and-bell alarm was attached to the door that alerts the men inside to your presence!
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"Nice work, Quillen...on the lock," grumbles Mohok as the men stir and react to their presence. "Probably better to keep this fight off the street," he adds as he darts through the door and hustles down the hallway, his wicked, curved sword slipping from its sheath. He reaches the doorway and strikes the closer of the two men as he stands up from the table.
Mohok moves in and drives his falchion into one of the men before the mercenary has a chance to draw his weapon. Ennoia covers his back with her bow.
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The two men draw their longswords and hack at Mohok!
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Quillen frowns at his oversight to check the door for such a tripwire, but quickly shrugs off his disappointment.
"C'est la vie."
He non-nonchalantly slides his rapier from it's sheathe as Mohok and Germaine rush indoors and gestures to allow both ladies to enter ahead of him.
"I shall cover our rear in case zere are others circling about."
Mohok's hit bounces off the man's armor.
Germaine moves forward and offers surrender, but his surrender doesn't seem to pay as well as their current employer.
Corrina, Quillen, and Ennoia continue to stay alert for more attackers.
The men take turns slashing at Germaine this time:
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Quillen taps his foot impatiently as he awaits the eventual attack from the exterior of the house and looks over his shoulder to Corrina.
"Perhaps it is best if we all move inside before we are seen and close zis door."
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With his tactical advance complete, Quillen wiggles the flimsy end of his rapier at the man squaring off with his allies in the far room.
"''allo m'enemy - you are outnumbered and zurely defeated!"