. Still finishing Blakros matromonie, but I think (Hope) it´s in the final encounter.
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Your latest adventures begin as you enter the Pathfinder lodge maintained by Venture-Captain Esmayl ibn Qaradi in the Qadiran capital of Katheer.
The lodge is a high-ceilinged estate with elegant arches and colorful tile mosaics, and a young man brings cool tea to drink and water for washing away dust before sending word of guests to the venture-captain.
As the door opens to Venture-Captain Esmayl ibn Qaradi’s office, he sits behind an imposing desk and concludes an elegantly penned letter with a flourish of calligraphy. He smiles, stands, and spreads his arms in welcome. “Welcome, my guests and colleagues. Let my family’s hospitality be your pleasure in this time we have together.” He fans the wet ink on the letter before setting it aside and taking a seat.
“To an outsider, it may seem that gold drives Keleshite society, but in truth it is a complex network of favors and patronage—who you know and how you have helped them are key. The Society is in a position to pay a very dear favor to a powerful and righteous demigod, yet our leaders require extraplanar expertise in order to perform said favor. Through my family, we have found such an expert who lives on the Plane of Fire. Her name is Qalkami Mishalq, an efreeti information broker in exile who also prefers favors to gold. The fire genies are notoriously shrewd negotiators, yet I believe the Society has secured a fair deal: four tasks of her choosing, and additional support thereafter to help her reestablish herself in the City of Brass."
The young man returns with a plate of candied dates.
“The Society and I ask that you fulfill these favors and earn Qalkami’s assistance. Kelesh maintains a significant embassy in Zjarra, the trade city Qalkami currently inhabits. With my family’s connections, I have secured you passage to the embassy and the assistance of a liaison to help you get settled. From there, meet with Qalkami and do what you can to fulfill her requests. Please report to the palace first thing tomorrow so that you do not miss the departure.”
With a wave of his hand he dismisses the boy and turns back to you. "I imagine you may have some questions for me?"
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Malusha enters the Qadiran lodge with his companions. Just as he expected, it is elegant and majestic. With all the gold that flows through Katheer, he is surprised it isn't even more lavishly appointed.
He politely accepts the cool tea from the serving man while he waits.
Malusha listens quietly as the Venture-Captain explains the situation. Ah. The Plane of Fire. A dangerous place. The group is going to need some protection. Fortunately, the Venture-Captain is giving them enough time to equip themselves. But he's curious about the four tasks.
"Thank you sir, for that wonderful explanation of how we can be of service to the Society." Malusha begins and he steps forward. "I am wondering if you know more details about these four tasks that Qalkami is requesting of us. Could you tell us anything about them?"
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Sickly hesitates at the entrance to the the Venture-Captain's office, clearly uncomfortable. Eventually though, he sniffles slightly, wipes his nose on the back on one sleep with purpose, and ducks inside. He immediately cuts to the side, trying to maintain a low profile in one corner. Unfortunately, its hard for a pasty dwarf in metal armor, with weapons bristling from every place he can put one, to remain unnoticed in the brightly lit room.
He seems to be sweating profusely, not unusual in the hot Qadiran climate, though one eye is also twitching uncontrollably, and he can't stop from scratching at some sort of red rash forming along the left side of his neck. The casual observer might wonder if he's sick... the non-casual observer would know so.
He listens to Esmayl ibn Qaradi's words with growing alarm, his weight shifting from foot to foot, and his breathing getting more and more labored the more he hears, like he's having an asthma attack.
"The plane of fire?" He says finally, his voice coming out in little more than a whisper, barely audible. "But isn't that... on fire?"
The last comment seems painfully obvious to him, and he clearly thinks he misheard their destination.
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The venture captain considers Malusha's question, tightens his lip and then speaks. “I do not. I presume she wishes to inform you of the exact nature of the tasks herself, and not just to serve her vanity. Understand, that this might involve some dirty work. The contract prohibits impossible tasks, yet it doesn’t account for ethical concerns. She is very likely to word the tasks in such a way as to assuage your fears and ensure your absolute fealty.”
He takes a polite sip of date wine before adding with a smile, “Though I’d note that just as efreet often twist wishes, you are free to interpret her instructions to fulfill the letter of her request, if not always the grisly spirit. Just be careful not to warp her demands so obviously or blatantly that you invalidate the Society’s deal. The isle of Jalmeray sometimes challenges its greatest minds to outwit an efreeti, and Pathfinders are among the greatest thinkers. You be the judge based on the opportunities that arise.”
Noticing Sickly's unease, he adds. “The Plane of Fire is indeed hot, master dwarf, as should come as no surprise. But Zjarra has a protective dome that makes it merely warm, making it a rare place for fiery creatures to interact peaceably with combustible foreigners. Step outside the dome only at your peril.”
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Rushing late into the briefing is a tengu. With black shiny feathers, powerful talons and a broad beak, Garmit appears similar to the rest of his crow-like race. The only distinguishing feature, however, is that he has painted the cheeks on both sides of his face with yellow. He wears a shiny, mithril chain shirt and has two very sharp looking wakazaki blades strapped across his back.
"Sorry guys! You know how it is. Had a previous engagement down in an ancient dungeon and it ran a bit over time. Some of these bad guys just don't know how to fight on schedule, bad time management skills! Eventually managed to drag myself away though, so what did I miss?" He casts his beady eyes around the rest of the group, summing up his next set of companions, clicking his beak in appreciation of what looks to be a fine bunch. "So, where are we off to? Somewhere nice and cool, I hope. It was a bit hot and stuffy down in that dungeon!"
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"Just stay within the dome my fair Tengu, and you won't notice the difference."
"Amarthecthel, you make a good point about the efreet." The venture captain nods in understanding. “This might involve some dirty work. The contract prohibits impossible tasks, yet it doesn’t account for ethical concerns.” He takes a polite sip of date wine before adding with a smile, “Though I’d note that just as efreet often twist wishes, you are free to interpret her instructions to fulfill the letter of her request, if not always the grisly spirit. Just be careful not to warp her demands so obviously or blatantly that you invalidate the Society’s deal. The isle of Jalmeray sometimes challenges its greatest minds to outwit an efreeti, and Pathfinders are among the greatest thinkers. You be the judge based on the opportunities that arise.”
Sensing no more questions, the venture captain concludes. "Well then, after our dinner tonight, meet at the palace tomorrow morning for transport to the Plane of Fire. Travel from Katheerto Zjarra occurs fairly regularly. There is a special dais in the palace linked to an identical one in the embassy in Zjarra, allowing their spellcasters to arrive exactly on target. Part of our arrangement with Kelesh includes your return passage. Do not be late, as the envoys won’t have the patience to wait for you."
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The next morning, Keleshite officials are waiting for you at the Satrap’s palace. Upon confirming who you are and why you’re there, two lavishly dressed officials escort you to a dedicated transportation room that features a large stone dais engraved with intricate runes. Here, several important Keleshite merchants and ambassadors prepare to depart. Your entire group is transported via plane shift to a nearly identical chamber in the Keleshite embassy in Zjarra, delivered to their exact destination by a unique magical effect linking the two stone platforms and allowing them to bypass the usual margin of error.
Waiting to greet you (she holds a carefully drawn Glyph of the Open Road on a sheet of stretched parchment) is a woman dressed in blue silks and bearing an air of confidence. ”A most humble welcome to the Crystal City of Zjarra. I am your embassy liaison, Yasmine Zamara.” She bows slightly and turns to lead you to accommodations at the embassy that she informs you may use for the duration of your stay.
Out of the large windows of the embassy’s grand corridors you can see the city expanse filled with all makes of interplanar caravans and market stalls. Far above the mercantile fray stretches an enormous crystalline dome, and beyond it a sky of swirling red and orange inferno. The air is hot and thick, reminiscent of a humid jungle. The lush jungle plants that seem to fill every inch of space not occupied by roads or buildings only reinforces the notion. While Zjarra’s population is primarily a mix of azers, efreet, mephits, and salamanders, it is also home to members of hundreds of different races from across nearly every plane.
Noticing your interest, Yasmine interjects as she walks, extending her arm to the cosmopolitan view. ”It is quite a sight, isn’t it. Angels begrudgingly associating with devils in open markets with nothing more than a scowl, a sneer, or an unearthly growl. Such is the power of trade. A little time in Zjarra and you will begin to understand that many creatures you might consider monsters back home are, in fact, law-abiding citizens, and treated as such.”
She stops suddenly and casts a knowing eye at your party. ”Pathfinders are known for their … shall we say ... direct methods of handling conflict, am I right? I would hope that while you are here as guests of our city, you will temper those sensibilities except, of course, if your lives are truly in danger. Satisfied with her request, she returns to her walk.
Once she reaches your guest rooms she slides elegantly to the side. ”Make yourselves at home, I can provide you directions to Qalkami’s home at Cinderstone Manor, arrange for any last minute purchases, and try to answer any questions you may still have about your stay.”
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Sickly seems noticeably nervous as they prepare to depart, eyeing the platform with equal parts dread and trepidation... though he steps onto the platform with the others, scratching absently at a rash that appears to have formed on one forearm.
Upon arrival in Zjaara, even before Yasmine can finish her greeting, his eyes suddenly tear up, and he starts sneezing uncontrollably. By the time he gets it under control, his nose is bleeding and one eye looks almost swollen shut.
He immediately starts digging through one of the bags hanging off his hip, apparently easily accessible for just such emergencies, and starts pulling out a whole collection of small bottles and vials. He drinks a couple of them, inhales another, then rubs some sort of salve on his arm, before putting them all away again.
"Awagies." He mutters with an embarrassed shrug, that single word distorted by nasal passages obviously still congested... and you're still not sure how well he can see out of that eye.
The sight of the jungle-like environs inside the dome, elicits a small moan, and he immediately digs out strange white mask, and straps it over his face, before going outside.
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"Yeah, what's the matter with you, buddy? If it's the bird flu, all I can say is 'I'm sorry!'"
Garmit then considers Yasmine Zamara's words. "Ah, when she said not to use the usual 'direct' methods of conflict, you don't think she'd mind the more 'indirect' ones, do you? You know, like an indirect stab in the back for instance?"
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With a concerned look toward Sickly (that she then moves to the rest of you to gauge your reactions to his plight), Yasmine gives you one final bit of advice: “I understand that you have been tasked with serving Qalkami in order to gain information for the Pathfinders. From what I’m told, it’s a worthy endeavor. But you should take care not to underestimate Qalkami: she is cunning, clever, and ruthless, even for an efreeti. I’m fairly well versed on the political realities here in Zjarra, and I have a few connections. If you have doubts about any of the tasks that she sets for you, I’m always happy to provide any insight I may have, especially if it means avoiding criminal activity or minimizing chaos. Do not hesitate to contact me again in your endeavors.”
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Travelling the streets of Zjarra is quite eye-opening. You catch sight of all manner of strange creatures going about their daily lives and are surprised to hear as many Kelish phrases as you do Common words, perhaps reflecting the strong ties to the Padishah Empire. With Yasmine’s directions, you have little difficulty finding Qalkami’s home, a domineering, gothic-style edifice of scorched adobe that towers three exaggerated stories in height and is topped by several spiked spires. A stone path crosses a yard of smoldering coals and leads to an ornate brass door with a knocker in the shape of a snarling hellhound, the ring cast to resemble flames pouring from its mouth. An azer servant answers the door, and upon confirming your business, invites you inside to a lavish sitting room outfitted with large chairs upholstered in ruddy, heat-resistant leather.
After making you wait just long enough to remind them who’s in charge, Qalkami Mishalq strides into the room. She is an imposing figure with the strength of a fire giant, the dangerous elegance of an erinyes, and a fiery scar that runs down one side of her face.
”Thank you for arriving on such short notice. I’m sure you need refreshment from the long journey. Do help yourselves to spirits from my private collection.” She gestures to a nearby ornate liquor cabinet.
”This has certainly been a magnanimous year for your Society, what with the Sky Key shenanigans, the assault on Absalom and not to mention all the Marriages and Disappearances. In each case your Society has exceeded itself, talk is growing of even extra-planar alliances being formed.”
”So. Surely you have not travelled so far for idle conversation. Onto the business at hand.” She takes a seat in a gorgeous high-backed chair and takes a deep breath. I normally am not one to waste favors so quickly, but with the rise of a new Sultana in the City of Brass, there are certain opportunities awaiting her that simply cannot wait. Of course, Zjarra provides me no shortage of possible agents, and contracting your Society is merely a convenient means to get certain jobs done.
”And what might those certain jobs be? You ask.” The efreeti begins ticking off tasks on her fingers. “First, one of my agents, Carlin Nestor, has attracted the attention of a broken inevitable, Tavar. Apparently, it’s trying to bring him to justice for a crime for which he was already tried and acquitted. I might find that amusing if it weren’t so annoying. Carlin is a valuable resource, and I can’t make use of him as long as he has this tin can constantly stirring up trouble. Carlin is currently lying low in a safehouse I maintain nearby. I’m sure he’ll be happy to provide you with the details.”
“Second, there is a family heirloom that you should recover. Some time ago, in exchange for a variety of services, I loaned my grandmother’s familiar, an imp named Vassago, to a local mephit named Malini, who runs the Eye of Flame Magic Shop here in town. The loan has since expired, but the imp has not been returned. I could involve the authorities, but a public spectacle highlighting my previous affiliation with a mephit, of all things, would not help my political ambitions. I’d like you to reclaim Vassago, as well as the contract that commands his service, and return them to me—without attracting too much attention.”
Qalkami produces a rolled-up vellum parchment. “The third task should be a very simple one. I have expended considerable energy negotiating a deal with a water naga merchant named Soheila here in Zjarra, and she represents a larger conglomerate from the Plane of Water. Soheila has already agreed to the terms, but she has provided excuse after excuse to avoid finalizing the agreement. She clearly doesn’t understand what a good deal she’s getting, and may need some encouragement to sign. I want you to visit her at her home and ensure the contract gets signed.”
”Once you are finished with these three tasks, return to me and I will consider my fourth and final task for you.” She produces a piece of paper and hands it to Amarthecthel.
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Sickly seems a bit overwhelmed by everything, not the least of which is Qalkami Mishalq. He can barely even make eye contact with the efreeti woman, instead spending his time at her home mostly staring at his feet trying to go unnoticed while the others negotiate with her.
As clueless as ever about social niceties, he does not pick up on the more subtle subtext and underlying conversational currents that are being bandied about. Though he does look a little worried... especially after the first three tasks start off sounding perfectly reasonable.
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Garmit listens to the three tasks, making faint clicking sound with his tongue in his beak as he concentrates on the details of the various requests they are given. He gets the strong impression that this woman is quite intimidating and not one to try and keep a secret from
"A couple of questions, if you don't mind, m'lady? Task one seems reasonably straightfoward, but with the second one, you want us to bring back the imp, right?" Garmit pauses for a moment as if unsure whether to continue his train of thought. "Ah...I'm sure it won't be the case if it had a mistress as enchanting as you, but what if this Vassago doesn't want to leave its new home?"
"Oh, and yeah my second question. You want us 'encourage' this Soheila to sign the contract, or...ah, 'force' her. Again, I'm sure that terms are completely fair, but you know, perhaps she's just changed her mind?"
Garmit then glances over at Malusha and sees his signal, indicating he'll come back and have a quick group chat in a second once he's received an answer to his first couple of questions.
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Amarthecthel views this whole expedition as a necessary evil, aiding creatures who are amoral at best in order to gain an advantage for the Society. Still, his membership helps the Silver Crusade to do its work, so he grudgingly accepts the necessity to accomplish missions like this. He nonetheless bridles at the thought of helping to aid one creature to compel another, as with the imp.
Gritting his teeth the elf says nothing and awaits the termination of the interview. However, part of his mind simulataneously appreciates the elegance of the home and its mistress despite despising her corrupt manners and society.
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She smiles at Garmit's dual queries.
“Retrieving the imp... it is but... a possession? So taking it.. well, that’s your job to figure out, now isn’t it, my dears? I recommend stealth, personally, but I suppose violence is fine, as long as you keep it quiet. I doubt she’ll part with the creature willingly: apparently she’s taken something of a shine to him.” She chuckles derisively before exclaiming, “Mephits! Honestly…”
“And if Soheila doesn’t want to sign the contract? Then you do whatever you need to do to make her want to sign it, of course. Flatter her and appeal to her vanity, or offer her your services to sweeten the deal. Zjarran authorities typically don’t approve of magical compulsion, but assuming nobody were the wiser, nobody would think it a crime. The important thing is that you come back with a signature.”
Moving over to the liqueur cabinet, she pours herself a stiff drink as you all discuss.
Flattery is something I can do, the young bard adds.
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Filmore taps each of his ten platinum rings in order while listening to the tasks. Filmore then whispers a few words under his breath. As he groups up with the other Pathfinders he carefully removes the five rings off his right hand. He hands a ring to each Pathfinder while saying quietly, ”May Erastil show you the path.”
Filmore then adds, "The second two tasks seem the most diplomatic so I think we should do them first. We could start off by talking to Carlin to find out what is going on."
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Malusha scratches his head. "You recommended the second two tasks first but then suggest with talk to Carlin first. Wouldn't that be doing the first task first?" A confused look crosses Malusha's face for only a moment.
"I guess it doesn't matter. I also think going to talk with Carlin first is a good start."
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"So, we do the first task last and the second task first? But, by that you mean go to the first task first, because that sounds easy, but don't do the first task, because that would be hard? Second and third sound easy so do them first but only after we've started with the first and then left it 'til last?" Garmit tries to keep up with Filmore's gnomish logic."Questions? I wouldn't even know where to start...and by that I mean, yes let's go see Carlin. First things first and all that."
Garmit claps the gnome on the back."Good to have you on board, buddy. We're gonna have fun!"
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Downing her drink with expert ease, Qalkami slides a half-dozen vials onto the nearby table from a pouch on her hip.
"Do realize that Soheila often keeps her home flooded... here, these may came in handy."
"If there are no more questions , please finish your drinks at your leisure, I must excuse myself to handle other important business of the day. I await your successful return." She turns on a pivot and exits the room with considerable style.
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After answering any last minute questions, you are free to set about the tasks and you have chosen to talk to Carlin first. Qalkami has provided you with discreet directions to a glass-shaping workshop that serves as a front for her safe-house where Carlin should be. But when you arrive, the only inhabitant of the workshop is an impish elemental (a Magmin, in fact) that flares with suspicious curiosity at your arrival as the air around him shimmers with excess heat.
In broken common, with a thick Ignan accent, he almost challenges you. "So many customers here. I get rich today.. come, buy these." He waves a heavy hand to reveal pieces of curving glassware tinted by eclectic combinations of chemical agents behind him on the shelves and tables of the shop.
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Amarthecthel is a lover of fine crystal, a passion he borrowed from his goddess. His previously taciturn demeanor melts away and he becomes almost childlike in a transition that only the elves seem to manage. He seems almost to have forgotten the safe house.
"Oh, this is marvelous. Such clarity and vision! I'm curious about your process. Do you by any chance make any crystal with actual natural crystals? Do you deliver your wares to Golarion?"
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Garmit steps forward and starts inspecting the glassware that the Magmin is displaying."Hmmm, let's have a look at what you've got here. Very nice! Oooh, that one's extra shiny...oh, and I love how this one reflects the ambient light!"
After a few moments, the tengu pulls himself away from admiring the goods and addresses the elemental. "Sadly, we're not here as customers today. We're actually looking for Carlin Nestor. We've been led to believe he may be...ah, tucked away somewhere safe around here. Can you perhaps help us know where we may be able to find him?"
Feli looks around and smiles.
"You have some very beautiful items here on display."
Autoaid Diplo
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Filmore looks eagerly around the shelves. He doesn’t touch any of the wares. He does pull out various bottles and containers from his satchel and compares them to what is available. He looks closely at the different colours and he looks extremely closely at the different closures. He points at three extremely dark red stopper bottles and makes a mental note of what he wants to buy. Giving the closest shelf a last once over Filmore turns round to look at the magmin and waits for his reply.
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"Yes...YES! Made them all! You like, you buy! Transport to Golarion, no problem. I find interplanar caravan to take to you, or wrap them for safe today." He looks a bit on edge as the tengu peruses the wares closely, as if expecting an accident.
His demeanor changes at the mention of Carlin's name. He scowls petutantly, points to the back of the shop, and exclaims, “I get it. No sales from you today. Then I saw you! I asked questions!”
Examining the back of the shop, you find a corroded iron door that is locked. It seems fairly straightforward to break open or just to pick the lock.
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Filmore knocks on the door three times and then politely says, "Hello, Carlin? I mutual friend sent us to help you with you current predicament. She says the inevitable has happened and you need a little assistance. This would be much easier to do face to face, I'm not even sure you can hear me right now."
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”Of course I can hear you, do you think I’m deaf?” There is the muffled sounds of several pieces of furniture moving. ”Keep your voices down, I’m coming.”
When the decrepit door finally does open, a middle-aged tiefling stands before you, dressed in fine but crumpled clothes that complement his light green skin, with what would be a usually well-trimmed beard quite scraggly from several days without maintenance. You can see behind him that the "safehouse" is just a cramped room designed to keep a creature safe, not exactly comfortable.
”Carlin Nestor..." he nods "confidence man, smuggler, and all-purpose get-things-done professional, although I am not currently accepting jobs that require ...wetwork” he nods again for emphasis ”but I suppose you already know all that. You say a mutual friend has offered me assistance. Who might I ask would be so kind?”
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Garmit knows exactly what the tiefling means by 'wetwork', the wet referring to the spilling of blood, namely murder! Yeah, this guy was a real charmer!
"Yeah, ah...hi, there! I'm Garmit, this is my little buddy Filmore, Sickly the dwarf (and no, we don't think he's contagious but we can't be sure), the lovely Feli, and of course Malusha and Amarthecthel back there. We were sent here by Qalkami Mishalq. She ,er, well it appears you're having some trouble with a 'broken' inevitable? One that keeps bothering you for a crime you managed to get away with...er, I mean were exhonerated for. We've been asked to help you deal with this thing. Tell us, what's the story? A nice guy like you, I can't imagine why one of those things would be harrassing you like this." Garmit stares at the guy with his beady eyes. "So, where would we find this thing and what exactly is it capable of?"
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He’s pleasantly surprised to learn that Qalkami’s sent him help, and he quickly adopts a friendly banter in explaining his version of events.
“Well, among other things I do, I arrange sale of certain ingestibles— alchemicals, potions, or stronger—to a whole load of different places. Everything I deal in is strictly legal here in Zjarra, and I don’t bother concerning myself with where they get taken after a sale, see? One day, outta nowhere, this walking tin can Grunyar Cragfell shows up, says that some of his friends died from my wares and he’s tracked ‘em back to me, and he means to make me pay. I tell him I ain’t done nothin’ wrong, an’ he doesn’t have any authority here in Zjarra, see, but he won’t hear of it, and tries to arrest me. ‘Cept it’s not really arrest, since he ain’t got no authority here; it’s just kidnapping. I defend myself, and he winds up bleeding out. Somehow, local law enforcement finds out, and they’ve been looking for an excuse to take me down for years— not for anything I peddle, but for certain other activities I get up to—so they bring it to trial. They don’t have a leg to stand on, and I wind up getting acquitted. Just when I think it’s all behind me, another tin can—more literally this time—shows up and tries to arrest me for murdering this Grunyar feller.”
He pauses for a moment to parse out a plan to trap Tavar the Inevitable.
“Now, just like Qalkami, I’d prefer to see Tavar destroyed, but I’m just as happy to let you all try to talk the stupid inevitable down instead, if'n that’s more your manner, seein as it could crush your 'eads like a set o' ripe berries. Either way, Qalkami has a perfect meeting spot, a warehouse she uses jus' for this sort o' thing. I can certainly spread the word through my underground connections that e’ll be there at a certain time, so y'all can get the drop on the metal-man then n'there.”
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@Amarthecthel The Magmin is strangely frightened by your insistence to buy his wares, as if he would never expect anyone associated with the "safe house" to have an actual interest in his crystalline art. Once, you convince him of your genuine desire to purchase some pieces, he "warms" up and completes the transaction. Delivery promised in two weeks.