The Lodge is abuzz with rumors of something monumental happening in Oppara. In the formal briefing, you are informed that transport has been arranged and the team of agents is being sent to the Oppara Lodge.
A swift boat ride, a quick trip through Taldor’s gilded capital, and a coded knock at the front door lead to the unassuming, windowless Pathfinder Society lodge masquerading as a bait and tackle shop called Rods and Reels. The strong smell of old fish permeates the dwelling, which has somewhat of a ill cared-for, haphazard appearance. The light of a single, whale-oil lantern forms strange shadows on the floor among the nets and buckets that fill the lodge’s ground floor.
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Frunobulax spends the boat ride, swift though it may be, lying on his back with his face a pale ashen hue. Next to him is a bucket that is regularly emptied of his sick.
"Urgh. I do not care for sea travel."
Once on land and in the lodge, the half-orc stands as near as he can to a window for want of fresh air.
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On the boat ride over, Dr. Gunter introduces himself with an adjustment of his monocle and a wiggle of his impressive mustache and mutton chops. He seems especially interested in talking to the other half-orc, but holds off until the man is able to stand.
Once in the lodge, he buzzes around the man like a fly on a rotten fruit. "Yes, sea travel can be rather rough on a body. I say, Frunobulax, care to explain what these tattoos mean?" he pesters. "I find these remnants of Orc culture just fascinating, don't you? Oh, what am I saying, you must, or you wouldn't have these, eh? Such savage power!" he exclaims.
The middle-aged venture-captain who runs the lodge—a ruddy-skinned and pockmark-faced man named Muesello—emerges from the narrow spiral stairs to the lodge’s second floor and addresses you:
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Pathfinders. Let me bring you all up to speed. It seems that I may have gotten myself, and by extension the Society, into a bit of hot water. You see, lately the Taldan government has been growing particularly protective of what it considers its national treasures. Grand Prince Stavian seems to have taken a personal interest in anything older than last week’s fish stew, imposing heavy tariffs on any antiquities being sent out of the country.”
The grey-haired man lets out a deep sigh and his shoulders slump. “This is where my own idiocy comes in. I thought that I could save the Society a few pieces of gold by smuggling items out of the city, using my contacts in a secret cult of local Sarenites known as the Dawnflower Blossoms. They receive significant support from people in Qadira, and oversee regular shipments to and from Katheer.
“Everything went very smoothly until last night. A group of local guards known as the Porthmos Militia conducted a violent raid on one of the cult’s safe houses here in the neighborhood of Westport. A man named Chalfon Dalsine, a minor noble who was himself nearly a Pathfinder in his youth, led the attack. This gang slaughtered half the members of the cult, even those who didn’t fight back—it was horrible. A few members were able to escape, but the rest were either slain or captured and dragged away for interrogation.
Muesello goes on to explain that while the deaths were tragic, his primary concern is that he had given the Sarenites several parcels for transport just last week. The parcels included a number of notes written in a personal cypher, but anything involving codes eventually makes its way to the Lion Blades, the secret spies of the Taldan government. It’s only a matter of time before they crack the code or use some divination magic to track him down. Muesello continues his explanation.
“The Society is in a very delicate place at the moment, especially here in Taldor. The upheavals caused by the Shadow Lodge have only made things worse. If the government tracks those packages back to me, they might formally expel all Pathfinders from the country! Now what I need you to do is …”
A loud knock on the shop’s front door interrupts the venture-captain mid-sentence. A strong voice calls out from the other side, “Open this door! This is the Porthmos Militia. Open this door in the name of the Grand Prince!”
Venture-Captain Muesello looks worriedly at you. He plays up his age as he calls back, "Ah, oh, yes! Just let me find the key!" He motions for you to remain quiet as he loudly fumbles around the shop to make it sound as though he's searching for something as he whispers, "Ten of the escaped Dawnflower Blossoms members are hidden here in the lodge. I was able to rescue them after the raid. They’re all upstairs—five in my bedroom and another five in my supply room." He knocks over three hay bales along the room's east wall, revealing a trap door beneath. He flings it open to reveal a ladder descending into darkness.
“You’ve got to get those people out of here,” he pleads, gesturing frantically at the hatch. “In my basement there is a staircase leading down to the ancient catacombs under the city. At the bottom of that staircase, there is a large lever on the right, just a few feet down the connecting corridor. Once everyone is clear of the staircase, pull it down and it will collapse behind you. That should keep anyone from following you. Once you’re in the catacombs, just ask the cult members for directions; they should know their way around. Ask them to take you to the Vault of Sarenrae—it’s their last hiding place. Oh, and track down this Chalfon Dalsine, and see if you can find my parcels: two beautiful sets of armor crafted by the fey of the Verduran Forest. Last I heard, the Porthmos Militia had taken them back to Dalsine’s home.”[smaller]
The pounding on the door increases in volume and an annoyed voice calls out again. “We don’t want to break the door down, old man. Hurry up!”
Muesello turns back and whispers once more, [smaller]“I’ll hold them off as best I can. Please get the cult members out of here, or they’re all as good as dead, and please don’t try to kill the guards! This is a large group of serious guards who obviously mean business. Any lethal attacks or, gods forefend, a death could spell doom for the Society! These are city guards acting on the authority of the Grand Prince himself!”
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Tevaga always enjoyed the travel to a mission. She spent much of the time looking over the edge into the water, searching for marine life, with a slight grin on her face.
At the tackle shop, when the banging begins, she watches the others go to fetch the Sarenite fugitives. While they take care of that, she opens the trapdoor and heads into the basement. She finds the staircase, and lights a torch for the fugitives to see by when they come down.
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"Right, you lot. I'm not exactly a people person--well, I mean I'm an expert on the Orcish peoples--although certainly they are not like other peoples--er, anyway, I am an academic, and I convince through journals, not speeches. But I have a little something that should help with this door situation," the Doctor bumbles, withdrawing a small vial from his pocket. He drinks it down quickly, and starts growing to twice his size. Using his new, even more massive bulk, he starts to pile large items of furniture against the door, and holds it shut with his own weight as well.
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Rilamon heads into whichever room is farther from the stairs (the bedroom or the supply room) and starts yelling at the cultists.
The city guard is here to arrest you lot. Get your asses in gear; head down to the basement right now. We've got someone waiting in the basement to escort you. Leave your belongings, there's no time for you to waste carrying everything out of here. GO GO GO.
Assuming they cooperate, Rilamon then follows them toward the stairs, stops at the other room and repeats himself.
Anyone who wastes time arguing or gathering up belongings gets a more personal treatment.
What part of RIGHT NOW do you not understand? Move your ass or I'll move it for you. If they still don't start moving, Rilamon will drag / push / carry the laggard.
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Tevaga returns to the ground floor with her lit torch. She looks around, and decides it's best to stay out of the way of the others already corralling the Sarenites. Instead, she whispers to the venture-captain. "You're going to have to come along, too. When they break through and find all this furniture set against the door, you won't have a good story. Considering their methods, they'll arrest you or worse. Come with us, and we can set fire to this place on the way out. They may not even come in until we're long gone."
Dr. Gunter flops down in front of the door as the guards continue to pound on it. Everyone else heads upstairs and motivates the cultists, who begin to move much faster to grab their things and run towards the basement. The party follows close behind them down the ladder and slams the trap door shut.
Following Muesello’s instructions and descending down the tight spiral staircase takes you and cultists to a narrow tunnel that connects to the ancient catacombs below Oppara. Just as the venture-captain promised, there is a lever a few feet down this hallway. Pulling it triggers the stairway to collapse with a reverberating rumble, filling the chamber with dust, but sealing off the way up.
The cultists thank you for your help. In all, there are 10 refugees: five human women (Charito, Ionnia, Nellina, Pasara, and Xene), two halfling women (Piria and Sophone), and three human men (Marcian, Narces, and Theodric).
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Dr. Gunter, now shrunk back to his normal size, motions for the rescue party to stop after collapsing the stairway. "Now hold on just a moment, chaps, I need to prepare another one of those. Won't take a moment!" he promises.
While Dr. Gunter prepares his alchemical brew, he asks their refugees, "So, remind me why the worship of Sarenrae is illegal here? I'm afraid religion (and for that matter, politics) isn't really my area of expertise. I assume it's the usual sort of tribal squabbling?"
"So, remind me why the worship of Sarenrae is illegal here? I'm afraid religion (and for that matter, politics) isn't really my area of expertise. I assume it's the usual sort of tribal squabbling?"
Piria answers, "Because of the goddess’s close association with the nation of Qadira—Taldor’s most hated enemy—her worship has been outlawed in this country for 2 centuries. Despite this, her faithful exist throughout the old empire, generally organized into small, independent, and highly secretive cults."
once quite popular in Taldor, although never as central to national identity as the veneration of Aroden. Numerous large Sarenite temples and cathedrals once existed throughout the empire, one of which was built of gold-plated bricks, rumors say.
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"Bah, I do not care for Sarenrae or for Taldor's problems with those that worship her. She cannot hold a candle to the great Gorum. However, my superior has asked for us to protect you." Frunobulax lets out a exasperated sigh through his nostrils.
Frunobulax points to one of the men (let's say Theodric). "You, what do you know of these caverns? Can you lead us towards an exit?"
"I concur, we should get moving." Dr. Gunter approaches the halflings, twiddling one end of his mustache. "Piria, Sophone, any idea of what kind of dangers we might face down here, besides the possibility of ensuing guards?"
"I don't come down here often but I've never run into anything along the way."
"You, what do you know of these caverns? Can you lead us towards an exit?"
"Xene and Sophone know the way quite well."
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The catacombs twist and turn, the passages ranging in width from narrow five-foot crawlspaces to massive twenty-foot avenues. The walls and floors vary in material from rough-hewn stone to cobblestone to moldering wooden boardwalks. The current stone passage spans a width of twenty feet and features dozens of smaller, five- and ten-foot-wide, round tunnels branching off every few yards. The air is dry and still.
Out of one of the dark tunnels a giant spider shoots a web as Fruno walks by!
Vanyel tries to through a glob of acid at the spider but misses.
Dr. Gunter tries to whip it good but also misses.
Tevaga moves up and swings but the spider jumps out of the way.
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The spider tries to bite Tevaga!
Fruno breaks free of the webbing but tears a hole in his pants in the process!
Rilamon deals a devastating blow to the wall next to him.
While Dr. Gunter holds the wrong end of his longsword, Tevaga smashes in one of the legs of the spider
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The spider bites at Dr. Gunter!
Rilamon and Dr. Gunter take down the spider!
The Sarenites are a bit shaken but are glad to have had you along; they might not have fared so well by themselves, being unarmed.
About an hour after the spider ambush, you finally arrive at the Vault of Sarenrae.
In the center of this large, natural cavern, easily more than forty feet in height, stands the ruin of a truly ancient temple constructed of chipped grey and white marble. Its domed roof collapsed long ago, but the structure is otherwise in remarkably good shape. Where doors must once have hung, a small campfire now burns, surrounded by piles of ragged but neatly folded bedding.
Seven people sit huddled around the small campfire to ward off the damp and cold of the cavern. As soon as they spot the approaching party, they pick up wooden clubs and leap to their feet suspiciously. One of the cult members calls out, “Well met by moonlight, sisters and brothers, but soon the dawn will come!” Upon hearing the coded greeting, the cultists by the fire set down their weapons and welcome the party and their fellow Sarenites to the camp.
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Frunobulax eases his stance as the group around the campfire greet the party and the Sarenrites. He stays near the back of the party, and takes the first opportunity to draw our a needle and thread to fix his trousers.
"Pardon me a moment." Fruno quickly repairs the tear - it is obvious this is a task that he had performed several times.
With the repair finished, the inquisitor stands and addresses the group of Sarenrites, "So, what is the plan now for you children of the dawnflower?"
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"Yeah, do y'all know where this 'Dalsine' fellow lives? And what's the difference between this 'Porthmos Militia' and the rest of the guard? They an official force within the city guard or just a crooked clique?" Tevaga turns to the other Pathfinders, "And when we do find Dalsine's place, assuming we can wait till he goes out, which of us can get us in? I'm learning to pick locks, but I ain't there yet."
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"I apologize, I did not mean to suggest that we are helping these people anymore than we already have. I was just attempting the 'small talk' that many people seem to enjoy engaging in."
Frunobulax looks to his fellow Pathfinders, "We are supposed to catch this Dalsine fellow, yes?" He turns back to the group of cultists.
"The people that attacked you, do you know anything of them? I know one of them is Dalsine, do you know where is place of residence is? Any help would be appreciated, and I promise to bring Gorum's vengeance upon the heads of those that attacked you."
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Vanyel manages to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at the inquisitor's bluntness. The raven on his shoulder, though, hops from foot to foot and gives a squawk followed by a word or two in Elvish. "I apologize if my colleague gave offense; it is only that we are not used to being chased into unknown catacombs by some noble's private guard. Tevaga's questions are good ones; it would certainly help us black Dalsine's eye were we able to recover the confiscated goods and perhaps exact some revenge on those who slew your fellows."