As the second course—reefclaw cakes presented with fire roasted corn, garlic, and sauteed leeks—is placed before you, Ofarah poses her second question, this time addressing her query to Yala.
“Yala, you are known as Witchbane among your people. However did you come by this title?”
The Ulfen warrior stands proudly, pounding on the table and sending a smattering of reefclaw onto her neighbor’s plate. “I am the bringer of death to the witches of Irrisen, and my bloody blade is the last thing their icy eyes see before I send them straight to Hell! If I lived a thousand years, I couldn’t kill enough witches, and if I could wipe their filthy spawn from the face of Golarion tomorrow, I’d give my last breath to do so!”
When Yala ceases her tirade, her face red and her eyes wild, Ofarah turns to Amiri, "My dear Amiri! What do you think of the witches of the north?"
|
The barbarian, not ready for a question, has to quickly finish her bite of food before answering. "Witches? Well ma'am, I don't think I ever run into a witch - whether from the north, south, east or west. 'Course, I may have. Must admit - I doubt I'd be able to distinguish between witch, wizard or sorcerer."
She tales a sip of wine from her goblet, trying to think of something better to say. "But, if I meet one, and she, or he, is committing evil - well, like Witchbane here, I put my blade to use."
|
I see things you do not, Tsusuko. Open your mind and listen. Truly, truly listen. Think of the good you could do...
Tsusuko continues to eat, trying to express no discontent with any extra food in his plate. He tries to think about how Jander would handle this situation, though to no conclusion but to stay the course.
Ofarah smiles and appears pleased and calmed by Amiri's response and conversation returns to normal.
During the third course of roasted beets in a dwarven mead reduction, presented with fresh goat cheese and pickled Chelish greens, Ofarah continues her efforts to get to know her guests by engaging Trade Prince Aaqir al’Hakam in conversation.
“Honorable trade prince, I understand you are a relative newcomer to Absalom. As an outsider myself, I am curious about your experiences here.”
The handsome Qadiran smiles humbly, and raises an eyebrow as he dabs his napkin to the corner of his mouth. “What an excellent question! In my years seeking financial partners while living in Katheer, I traveled here many times and find the opportunities more promising with each visit. Now that I am here permanently, I find myself ever seeking the company of those from distant shores, with whom I may make even more ambitious arrangements to ensure mutual financial gain. And I find keeping an eye on my daughters in such a big and corrupting city quite a daunting task!”
After al'Hakam's response, Ofarah turns to Peri and poses the same question. [b]"Peri, I believe you are from and have traveled to distant lands. I am curious about your experiences here in Absalom."
Ofarah looks pleased by Peri's answer.
As the main course, composed of grilled fillet of ankheg, presented with caramelized shallots in a Thuvian wine reduction, crisp truffle-scented potato, white asparagus, and Darklands mushrooms, is served, the hostess continues her line of questioning, now turning her attention to Gaspar Desime.
“Gaspar, I have to ask, whatever are all those medals for? I assume you earned them on the battlefield, no?”
The already-tipsy Isgeri chugs his wine uncouthly and slams the empty goblet down onto the table dramatically. His gaze ever on the Paracountess instead of Ofarah, he begins an interminable recounting of the epic tale of his career: “Why yes indeed! Over four hundred hobgoblin foot soldiers died by my blade alone, and my name is still uttered along with the most honored heroes of the Goblinblood Wars. Why, were it not for me, one can only imagine what would have become of fair Isger at the hands of the wretched hordes. To think of all that missed opportunity...”
Since Gaspar isn't talking to Ofarah, she turns away and inquires of Tsusokuo. "Mr. Tsusoku, you have seen many years. Have you ever served in a military force? What is your most notable honor?"
In the background Gaspar's raving dwindle continues in a slurred request for more-and stronger-wine.
|
|
Tsusuko's face is one of shock, now that attention is centered squarely on him. "I... don't..." Mid-speech, Tsusuko stops to listen to the voice in his head. "You want your memories, Tsusuko? We have them all here on the other side of the Threshold. Just open the gate and let us in."
Given a glimpse of his past, Tsusko convulses a little in his seat. For the first time in almost 20 years, Tsusuko knew something about himself and reacts appropriately. "Aah! I remember! AAH! The kraken! They ran everything! Wan... Wanshou! I ran rice from country to country for them! I... I helped many others escape! It took me... 50! 50 years to finally escape! While trying to cross the Crown, I found... something... There was a... a gate! I found a gate! In my mind! I looked inside! Inside was darkness! DARKNESS! Then... there was nothing... Nothing at all... There as only darkness... then... nothing .."
The party grows quiet for a moment as Tsusoku's rambling becomes more and more fervent and animated. Ofara sits in confusion for several seconds, eyes wide, as the entire assembled party looks to her. "Um. . . thank you for that, sir." She takes a sip of wine and tries to act natural, encouraging the rest of the guests to go back to their food and light conversation.
The penultimate course, a dessert of sorbet served with berries soaked in Irrisen ice wine and topped with a delicate chocolate lattice, is accompanied by yet another question from Ofarah, this time directed at a the Sapphire Sage, Amenopheus.
“I tire of talk of war. What can you tell me of the past, Amenopheus? What is the earliest notable event that occurred within your own lifetime?”
The aged Osirian raises his eyebrows at the insinuation of his advanced age, but smiles nonetheless and responds. “In all my years, I have never sat at as lovely a table as this one, I will tell you that. Beyond that, however, the tales of yore are lengthy and belong in libraries and dusty cloisters, and not at the dinner table. Though I may have many years on all at this table but our elven friend, I plan to enjoy many more, one way or another. Ask me again in a generation and we’ll talk
history then.”
As Amenopheus prattles on, Ofarah quickly loses interest, turning instead to. . .
Sahar! "Sahar, my friend, tell me a tale of times gone by."
Ofara listens intently, fascinated by Sahar's tale. Many of the other guests give Sahar their steadfast attention-except for Gaspar, as the steady flow of wine going down his lovesick gullet catches up to him and he excuses himself drunkenly from the meal.
The final course features a rich Rahadoumi coffee and a choice of either a fine Taldan dessert wine or a dark Molthuni brandy. As she stirs her brandy into her coffee, Ofarah leans toward Lady Gloriana Morilla and asks frankly, “Lady Morilla, you come from a very influential house here in the city, correct? How do you find the nobles here differ from those in your homeland? In my brief time here, I’ve come to find a number of differences between the aristocracy of Lamasara and of Absalom.”
The Taldan noble clears her throat demurely, and responds to the inquiry. “House Morilla has been an influential player in the political scene here on Kortos since well before my father’s father’s time, and thus I was born here. While I’ve spent a great deal of time in the courts of Oppara, I much prefer aristocratic life in Absalom to that of mainland Taldor. Until our great nation rids itself of much of the bureaucracy that serves as more of a hindrance than a benefit to the upper classes, Taldor will never reattain its former glories.”
Ofarah turns to Tsusoku again (for some reason) and asks a follow-up question. "Tsusoku, I am curious about your views on aristocracy in general."
|
|
Amiri, finishing off another glass of wine, softly hiccups as she listens to the Kelishite's tale. She continues to dig in to grilled ankheg, she cannot hide her enthusiasm for the meal. She declares in a poor attempt at a whisper, "This is some grub. I can't believe ugly old ankhegs would be so tasty!" She sees the looks on the faces of some of the other diners and asks quietly for forgiveness.
"How. . . interesting." Ofarah responds. She seems perplexed and yet she smiles at the old witch.
After clearing the table, the servants light a number of hookahs, filling the air with the scent of rose-infused tobacco from Molthune. Yala and Amenopheus take their leave without partaking in any of the post-meal smoking, thanking the hostess and wishing all remaining guests well. Between puffs of her personal hookah, Ofarah poses a final question to the elf Ceralan.
“Finally, my old friend Ceralan. Either time has changed yourbtimeless features or muddied my own memory, for I feelbas though we are total strangers now. Tell me of a time we spent together in Lamasara in my youth, that others can share in our friendship.”
The elf blinks silently for a moment as if in deep thought. “Why, my lady, our memories are our own. Perhaps our fine guests would rather we discuss something they too hold dear: a sentiment from childhood, or a memory held in the forefront of the mind?”
He gestures to Peri, as if prompting a story from her own life.
at the elf ’s avoidance of her question.
As the conversation seems to be drawing to a close, Zarta Dralneen, Aaqir al’Hakam, and Lady Gloriana rise and make their way to the front of the embassy to be retrieved by their respective sedans and escorts.
"No, really, I couldn't embarrass the hostess with such things." Ceralan responds as the servants reenter the room to clear the table.
Ceralan turns to Ofarah with his own question now, “My humble hostess, I have a question for you before you retire to your chambers. If given the choice of dying of old age or being swiftly murdered by a killer you never saw coming, which fate would you choose?”
The Lioness pauses for a moment before a look of realization fills her face. At the widening of her eyes, the man you thought was Ceralan laughs, and declares, “That’s what I thought!” as he moves in for a surprise strike against the unguarded and unarmed Ofarah.
Ceralan picks up a plate from the table, breaks it, and stabs at Ofarah!
In his hurry to attack, however, Ceralan misses!
Sahar gives FauxCeralan a nasty look and he trembles in his little elven boots!
Ceralan stands drueling. The servants, however, continue to attack.
He is having none of that!
Peri casts a spell and one of the servants also begins to stand there and drool. Meanwhile Amiri works on getting her sword out and Tsusoku's hair reaches out to grab at Servant 2, constricting the man's lungs in the process.
Ceralan and Servant 1 continue to drool on themselves. Servant 2 tries to break free from the hair!
The other servant continues to hit Ofara!
Oof! The hostess is hit once again.
|
|
|
Activating Spell-storing AoMF to Vampiric Touch him for damage. Note that I cannot kill him with this, and if I do less than what's rolled, I need to know for Temp Health purposes. If he goes down, I'll move to threaten the last not-bored goon (and preferably within 10 feet of our host so I can heal her.)
Sahar puts one of the servants to sleep. Tsusoku continues to tighten his squeeze on the other servant. He falls over unconscious when Tsusoku drains energy from him.
Peri steps away from her attackers and hastes the party. Amiri is pissed off that she didn't get to finish her third round of dessert and cuts one of the servants across the chest.
Two of them continue to stand there with glazed eyes. The servant near Amiri continues to press the attack, however.
Amiri easily slices one of the servants in two. Sahar jolts Ceralan! Peri heals herself and Tsusoku casts a spell on Ofara so that she can fly, fly away!
Ofara flies up and over the table to get away from the scene of battle.
Ceralan remains standing where he is while the remaining active servant moves over and punches Sahar!
Tsusoku wraps the elf up in his hair and Amiri lays the smack down on the fake Ceralan.
The party quickly subdues the elf. Ofarah seems a bit hurt, but will be fine. She thanks you for assisting her and calls in the guards to remove the bodies and help secure any unconscious prisoners.
Each of the three servants carried a potion of cure moderate wounds, potion of invisibility, and +1 padded armor. "Ceralan" wore +2 studded leather, composite longbow (+1 Str), rapier, ring of protection +1, and had a note.
Abroziel,
Your next assignment is to impersonate a fellow elf named Ceralan in order to infiltrate the Thuvian Embassy and eliminate the Lioness of Lamasara, Ofarah Ohatepe. We believe she plans to violate the laws of Thuvia and tamper with the outcome of her city’s forthcoming auction. This cannot be tolerated. We have planted three fellow assassins among the newly-hired serving staff for the dinner; when you make your move, they will support you.
The true Ceralan does not know our true intentions, but he owed us
significantly for past favors and loans, and when we told him that responding to the invitation but not going to the party itself would remove his outstanding debts, he jumped at the chance.
Be swift and merciless,
K
Ofarah takes a look at the note before hushing you and assuring, "we should go upstairs to my private chambers, where I can promise to provide more than ample recompense for your efforts and tell you more about this note and what has occurred."
--------------------------------------------------------------------
In Ofarah’s sumptuous chambers, opulently bedecked in fine silks, soft pillows, and ostentatious gold and platinum decorations, the Lioness of Lamasara reveals her true motivations as she offers you comfortable seats and begins to explain.
“Thank you again for your noble efforts in preventing my untimely demise. As recompense for your deeds, I offer you the prize that motivated this entire party.
“Every year, villains and madmen, generally rich from their own evil ways, bid against one another for the sacred sun orchid elixir produced and distributed solely by my homeland of Thuvia. I tire of seeing the people of the world suffer because those most able to win our auctions are those who wish to do their subjects harm. This year, however, I’m going to ensure that a noble and worthy candidate has a true shot at winning a draught of the elixir, stealing it from the lips of the vile.
“Each Lamasaran city has a secret vault in which it keeps records of past auctions and other valuables. The locations, names, and contents of these vaults are kept hidden even from other Thuvian cities to ensure no one city ever gains more power than the others. Lamasara’s vault is called the Conundrum, and were one to gain access to it, the information one would find within could prove invaluable. If one could navigate the tests and traps therein, and survive the guardians placed there to watch over our most treasured secrets, the information in the vault would be available to do with as one pleased. It would be illegal for me to divulge this information to anyone, but there are some situations the law does not cover.
“Here, each of you take one of these potions. It will turn your form into that of mere vapor, and will allow you to pass through this ring gate to the Conundrum. There you will find a set of identical potions to allow you to return. More than this I cannot offer you. I simply wish you luck, and send you on your way.”
Ofarah hands each of you a vial, giving Sahar and Tsusoku each an extra vial for their animals.