You have received invitations to a party being held that evening at the Lantern Lodge, the beautiful and exotic estate of the Tian venture-captain, Amara Li, in Absalom’s Petal District. Tonight is the Snapdragon Festival, a traditional Gokan holiday featuring fireworks and rich plum wine. The PCs are encouraged to dress to impress, and instructed to seek out the hostess and head of the Lantern Lodge, Amara Li, upon their arrival.
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Xeno glances over the invitation. Just like back home, too many parties and festivals and never enough action. Then again sometimes opportunities present them self in these events. I'll need to get something to wear. She goes shopping buying simple but elegant long black dress, some nice velvet gloves and a black silk veil.
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Dietrich examines the piece of paper.
Ah, so zey sink I vill dress myself like a peacock for zem? My coin is better spent elsevere. Still, it vould be a shame to go like a peasant.
He finds his old traveler's oufit - the best he owns - and spends an hour cleaning it thoroughly. He then dons the garments and makes his way to the Lantern Lodge.
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Herman reads the message with interest. "My first Pathfinder mission p'haps? An' it's a cocktail party; not 'xactly the life o' adventure I always dreamt. I saw enough noblemen's parties while in bondage in Cheliax. I doan particularly wan' ta see more, but p'haps its more fun as a guest instead o' the entertainment,eh?"
Herman finds a shop in the Petal district specializing in kimono style Tian-wear. He buys a fine silk robe and a large black obi with a crane motif. He dons this attire and makes his way to the address on the invitiation, mandolin case strapped to his back and weapons on his belt.
On the way, he wracks his brain for any Tian songs or poetry he remembers from his training days, hoping to make a good impression.
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Storn stares incredulously at the piece of paper, speaking out loud as he reads the message in poor common.
We look fo...for-ward to your pruh... no. Pree sense? Presence. Hrm. They must have heard of my exploits. Gorum has favoured me. This invitation is a great honour. I must wear fine furs and bring an appropriate guest-gift.
After a good hour of combing his beard and decorating it with bone and wood jewelery befitting his stature, Storn ventures out. Still very unused to the chaotic city he shoves his way through passers-by, threatens anyone who tries to walk into him, and demands directions to a furrier with little luck. Many hours later, Storn emerges from a furrier draped in an enormous (rented) loin's fur coat his plain brown clothes. With the rest of his stipend he purchases a small box of imported pepper as a gift for the host.
Holding his head up high, well-groomed for what may be the first time in years, Storn quietly prays to Gorum to calm his nerves.
"Great, a festival. Oh well, time to meet new people, I sure hope some of them are interesting."
Menas will rent an outfit perfect for a scholar, preferably covering his sleeves.
As soon as arriving at the party, Menas gets 2 glasses of the fine wine they serve, "Do you mind escorting me around, I'm new to this place" he asks one of the ladies.
After mingling around with a couple of another people, Menas will seek the hostess, "Such a wonderful night to be able to enjoy life's pleasures, It is an honor to be invited at this extravagant gathering," as he bows in front of Amara, giving her outmost respect.
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The joyous crowd who are merry with drink slightly unnerve Amaruu.
I am unfamiliar with a jungle such as this... I pray that He Who Walks in Blood grants me prey this night so that I may honor him.
As soon as Amaruu arrives he starts to make note of all entrances and exits. He also starts making mental notes about who is carrying any kind of weapons (spell component pouches included).
He will look for any hors d'oeuvre while he walks around the party and does his best to blend in.
When he is satisfied with his findings he will look for Amara."I am honored by your invitation." Amaruu says with a low raspy voice and bows to the host. "Being members of this Society has many unexpected 'perks'."
Only the luckiest or most influential Pathfinders receive invitations to Amara Li’s annual Snapdragon Festival celebration, and wise recipients take advantage of them. The aroma of blooming orchids and flowing wine mixes with the acrid tang of recently exploded fireworks, and the sound of strangely discordant music comes from a duo of Tian women playing an unusual stringed instrument and a reed flute. The crowd mingles calmly, most guests clearly hoping to be seen more than actually paying attention to those with whom they converse, though the plum wine seems to have affected many who now move about the lodge’s grounds waving sparkling wands of fire and shooting whirring, whizzing fireworks into
the sky above the koi pond.
After perusing the party for about 30 minutes, you are invited into Amara Li's private study. She is seated on a reed mat before a low table set with an exquisite porcelain tea set. She motions for everyone to sit with her around the table, and once the door is closed and you have taken your seats, she begins talking in a low, hushed voice without even the hint of a Tian accent:
“Well met, Pathfinders, and welcome to the Lantern Lodge. I hope you find the Snapdragon Festival and my hospitality worthy of your time and energy. I have not brought you here for mere pleasantries, however, and wish to ask you to partake a dangerous mission on my behalf."
“Long ago, one of my most esteemed ancestors, who was rich in power but poor in sense, gave a gift to a foreign prince, a gift that prince did not deserve and my foolish ancestor had no right to give—a ceremonial jade katana. At the time the gift was sent, its recipient was invading this island. He laid siege to Absalom from his fortress in the foothills of the Kortos Mounts. Like those who came before him, the warlord failed to take Absalom and perished in the attempt. On the very day of his defeat, his castle crumbled to dust in a violent earthquake and has been lost to the centuries ever since. My family’s heirloom
was lost with it."
“A recent report by a group of Pathfinders gives me hope that they have finally found the ruin, and I might finally recover my family’s treasure. I’m looking for an intrepid group to retrieve it for me,
and I’m hoping that is you. The fame and wealth you will doubtlessly recover will bring you much honor within the Society, and if you deliver the katana to me, you will have my favor as you begin your careers as full agents of the Pathfinder Society.”
"All I know is that one Pathfinder was killed by an undead creature when they went in, but that was all they saw. And I am sure a man such as you can easily handle a couple undead."
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Xeno seems to enjoy the festival, she minglings easily with the other guests but does not remove her veil. When called to private meeting she curtsies and sits on the floor before glancing curiously around the other invitees. She nods politely as Amara Li speaks, doesn't sound particular important or useful mission but the favour of Amara Li might well be useful in future. Damn, now I sound like father with his polical manipulation.
"I'd be honoured to assist you madam Li"
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Ahh a jungle I am familiar with
"I am honored to be chosen as a retriever of your sacred blade. I hope that I may return the blade so it can be consecrated in the blood of your enemies..." Amaruu says in a raspy voice with a hint of excitement.
"I worry not about the twiceborn, I shall assist them to their rest for The Lady of Graves."
Where undead go, unholy spell users follow... He thinks with a smile.
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Storn's time at the festival has been a little awkward, but he's managed to enjoy himself, cornering a terrified elven bard and bellowing tales of heroism and valor to him until he was whisked away to see Amara's study.
Upon arrival, Storn listens patiently to the introductions and explanations from Amara Li. He takes a long time to speak.
Gorum smiles upon both of us and I am honored for your invitation! It is good and just to repair the mistakes of our ancestors. I will do this deed for you.
Storn's voice is booming and in a thick Hallit accent. His face is covered in sweat, the climate being far warmer than he is used to and the lion's fur coat doing him no favours.
"I shall accompany you in this adventure, but take heed fellow pathfinders, if it's just a couple of undead I see no reason to request the assistance of the society in such matters. Let us not underestimate the opponent at hand for we might be only looking at just the tip of the iceberg." as Menas clears his throat, "Of course I meant no disrespect to your abilities my friends, I am pretty sure you won't be here if you don't possess such qualities. Pardon my manners, my name is Menas, I hope to be of assistance in this endeavor of ours."
"Thank you all so much for your help, both to me and the Society. Enjoy the rest of the Festival, get some rest, and head to the Cairnlands tomorrow."
She gives you directions to the keep. There is still a good amount of the Festival left, with a fireworks display that will last until the morning.
As you leave Amara's study, a man walks up to the party. He is wearing the military fineries of an Eagle Knight's ceremonial uniform—a bright blue overcoat with polished gold buttons, gold eagle epaulets, and a fine, black felt tricorn hat. The handsome man is a charmer who clearly thinks very highly of himself. He speaks loudly and confidently, as if he wants the entire party to “overhear” his conversation with you.
"Greetings, Pathfinders! I hear you’re headed out into the Cairnlands on official Society business. Best of luck outside the city walls, though you look like sturdy enough adventurers. Perhaps not Eagle Knight material, but qualified for the work of a Pathfinder."
“A word of warning, though, friends—beware the walking dead. The crumbling ruins surrounding the city are rife with them, and you’re likely to run into more than your fair share over the course of your career. Undeath and the undead are more than just a physical peril, however. Undeath is the worst kind of slavery. And it should be eradicated like all servitude, whether to aristocracy or to mental control. Being enslaved to the flesh beyond when Pharasma calls one’s soul to the Boneyard is a fate I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemy.So while you plumb the depths of Asad’s Keep, remember your solemn duty to your fellow man—both living and dead. Any undead you encounter along the way should be freed of their earthly shell."
“If you prove your dedication to freedom, the resources of Andoran will be at your disposal in your future endeavors.”
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Storn stares at the man in the silly uniform.
That was an insult. Ugh. The stench of his entrails will have to wait. I am a guest here. His stupid pointed hat must have gone to his stupid pointed head.
He finally beams a broken-toothed smile and slams the Eagle Knight with a on the back in a gesture of Kellid good manners.
Your nation is now my chosen home and I have fought many times with your people! The walking dead tremble when they hear the name of Storn. You can be assured with the wrath of Gorum I will "liberate" any that I find. With my sword! Hahahaha! But I shall not tarry. I'm sure you have some orders to follow or something.
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Amaruu carefully watches the man and studies him while he speaks.
Is this man suppose to be a warrior? Looks more like a fool. Why does he talk as if I would destroy the twiceborn only for his favor? I hope he offers more than just a silly hat...
Amaruu nods to the man. "I have already given the lady my word that I would destroy the twiceborn, but I will accept your gifts when I accomplish the task."
Amaruu turns to Storn, "I like your enthusiasm, warrior, I look forward to blessing our blades with the blood of our foes together."
"I don't think they would be able to stop this jolly pathfinder here," as Menas acknowledges Storn's interesting personality. "I have a good feeling I'm really safe with these people so I propose a toast for the liberation of the undeath! Menas raises his glass for toast!
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Storn may be put off by the foreign culture of Absalom, but he knows a toast when he sees one. Turning away from the Eagle Knight he raises his own glass of plum wine.
"To liberation, Andoran, and the death-cries of our enemies! Gorum rain your blessing down upon my five companions and me like blood from the severed hand of an interloper!"
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The worst type of slavery' really? This man knows something I don't or he has not seen what I've seen.
"Sir at some point I'd love debate on the degrees of slavery of mindless corpse verses women in the sex houses of Egorian,kidnaped to... Sorry this is not the time or the place for such topics, rest assured I don't think any of us were planning to leave the undead unalive."
A little later when they are alone "If we are going to be working together we should get to know each other. While much of that will happen when we stand side by side swords drawn in the mean it would be nice to have names to refer to each other by. You may call me Xeno, it means 'stranger' in an achient tongue, it is not my birth name, which I would prefer not to use."
"Good undead are abominations that need to be freed. Whether from undeath or freedom to vote in a democracy, a democracy that Andoran offers."
A member of the serving staff comes up and whispers in his ear.
"Sorry Pathfinders, but I have other matters to attend to. Good hunting and remember the promise of freedom that Andoran offers."
With a bow he heads off.
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"Good to know you Xeno, Amaruu. My name is Dietrich, but my friends call me "Wolf". I think it's because they think I look kind of scruffy. Anyway, I learned how to use my axe felling trees in the forests of northern Andoran. Now I apply my skill in the service to the Society and my Andoran allies here."
As you get ready to leave for the night a well-dressed Keleshite man approaches and asks for a quick word. You recognize him as Trade Prince
Aaqir al’Hakam. He is softspoken and subtle, quite the contrast to Major Maldris’s ostentatious pomposity. He draws the you to the side, away from any crowds or activity, and addresses you in a slow, level voice with a strong Kelish accent.
“Like a fast-spoken djinn, I’ll get to the quick. I know where you are going. House Damaq of Qadira claim the ruin, but we are willing to allow you access for the price of a small deed easily accomplished during your adventure. You will be wellcompensated, I assure you, for profits are most rewarding when shared. I assume treasure-seekers like yourselves are interested in such a proposition?”
Without waiting for an answer, he continues, his eyes intent
and his posture rigid.
“The ruin is Qadiran, which is why we claim it, and we are willing to defend it, but there are really only certain things leftin Asad’s Keep we are interested in: trade agreements, of which we believe there to be many within the ruins. All we ask that you do is to turn over all trade agreements you find to us as soon as you return to Absalom, as we will be able to hold the signers to them even centuries after their signing."
“The satrap of Qadira—nay, the entire Padishah Empire of Kelesh—has much to offer the Pathfinder Society, and I personally have no qualms about sharing those resources with you, specifically. Shall we shake on this agreement?”
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If these ruins are so import to everyone why are they sending junior members to them? Is there a trap I haven't seen yet? Then again this is an opportunity to get another powerful favour for something we were going to do anyway.
"While I would be surprised if such documents would last long in a ruin I have no problem giving to you, if no one else does."
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Storn nods firmly to his companions after glaring for a while at the retreating Eagle Knight.
"I am Storn of Gorum and known only as that. I hail from the far north but have become separated from my people. I am with the Pathfinders for now and like Dietrich I am allied with the Andor-"[/b}
Storn glances over as Aaqir addresses the party, bringing them to a secluded area. He narrows his eyes as he listens intently to Aaqir. After a long while, he speaks in his brutish accent.
[b]"Your claim on these ruins is suspect to me, but I don't particularly care. If this is reward I will bring you these documents. I cannot speak for my companions. I will agree if they do.
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Storn nods firmly to his companions after glaring for a while at the retreating Eagle Knight.
"I am Storn of Gorum and known only as that. I hail from the far north but have become separated from my people. I am with the Pathfinders for now and like Dietrich I am allied with the Andor-"
Storn glances over as Aaqir addresses the party, bringing them to a secluded area. He narrows his eyes as he listens intently to Aaqir. After a long while, he speaks in his brutish accent.
"Your claim on these ruins is suspect to me, but I don't particularly care. If there is reward I will bring you these documents. I cannot speak for my companions. I will agree if they do."
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Herman is fascinated by the oriental-style stringed instrument. He listens carefully to its tone and vibrations trying to see the difference between his old mandolin and these works of art.
He chats up the musicians and offer to sing a lyrical style Tian poem he remembered on the way.
The affect is passable, but not quite what he had hoped. He takes his leave of the musicians when asked to greet the Lady Amara.
You honor us by asking of us such an important task," Herman says bowing low. "We will find your katana and bring it back to you safely."
Later after being excused from the room, Herman asks the rest "Uh, what's a katana?"
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When the Andoran leader approaches, Herman is suitably impressed. He nods along with the man. "I never really thought about undead being slaves, but I guess they are in a manner. Having been indentured myself, you can count on me to help free anyone in bondage, including some walking corpses."
"The resources of Andoran will be at your disposal..." That's a good way to start off a career, get one of the strongest factions on your good side."
Herman is disappointed to see the man leave as he wanted to hear more about the Eagle Knights.
Hearing the man mention Asad's Keep, Herman ruminates on if he's heard of this place before, and what lore he might be able to impart ot others.
But he can only think of a local Katapesh restarurant called Asad's instead where the spiced curry is to die for.
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Herman turns an inquisitive eye on the Keleshite prince as he speaks to them of missign trade agreements. Herm lays on his charm learned at court in Cheliax and in the streets of Absalom. "Heck if these papers are so valuable, maybe they kick a little extra in for the group?"
"It seems that a valuable trade agreement would be worth more to the Satrap than just access to a collapsed keep. Is there some other sort of "finder's fee" we can arrange for returning these documents?"
The patrons at the party applaud politely to Herman's song, but move back to what they had been doing.
Herman does remember hearing one thing about Asad's Keep.
Asad’s Keep was buried long ago, when its master, a Qadiran warlord named Taliq Asad lost his bid to conquer Absalom. This place was his last stronghold.
The Keleshite prince responds:
"As a Qadiran representative, I give you permission to keep anything else you find in the ruins for your own. This was an estate of a very wealthy Qadiran, so the finds should be more than worth the trouble."
You can leave the party when you are ready, and are able to make any purchases you need. You rest for the night and get ready to leave for Asad's Keep in the morning.
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Storn chats with his companions a little while longer and goes to watch the fireworks display, having never seen one. On his way back to his romo he stops to pick up a hammer for his iron spikes. One deep slumber and set of morning prayers later, he has met up with the party to get out for the keep.
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Amaruu will join in on the toast with his new companions then sneaks away at the earliest convenience.
Amaruu will go to his chambers and mentally prepare for the upcoming challenge.
I earned a name once, now I must gain experience so I can earn my place serving He Who Walks in Blood. This Pathfinder Society will allow me to learn how to adapt my skills and simultaneously pay respect to the Mantis God.
At dawn he completes his morning rituals and heads to meet the other Pathfinders.
Hmm this turns out to be bigger than I've expected. A noble woman asking for a katana, an official that wants us to clear the undead and now a warlord asking for trade agreements...
"It was a fun night, thank you for the hospitality. I will see you again at dawn, farewell." with that Menas leaves the party and will rest in his quarters.
You all meet up to leave in the morning. Travel to the site is arduous; the terrain is rocky and marred with the scars of millennia of wars, making it thirsty work to get to the keep, but you encounter no resistance. The directions lead to a small gully.
At the end of the gully, about fifteen feet above the ground on a cliff face, is an ancient, ironbound door. Its wood is dried and cracked. Directly in front of the door is a steep slope of rubble and dust-crusted debris that, as luck would have it, provides a path—albeit a rough and difficult one— right up to the door.
Here is a map of the bottom of the gully, let me know if I should move you.
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Storn stomps his way through the rocky terrain, his face set and stoic for the trip, far less cheerful than he was the day previous. Maybe it's the plum wine. He looks around a long boulder to spy the door and stops for a moment, looking around warily.
"Looks clear!" he says.
Storn picks up the pace again and continues tromping towards the door at a slow, steady pace.
"So here we are at the ruins,"
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Herman struggles to keep up with the 'longshanks' while the climb is hard for the men, it is doubly so for the self-named Halfshanks.
Add to that his race's proclivity for fine food and drink, and this was starting out as a miserable proposition. Only his overwhelming sense of curiosity (which is what led him to the Pathfinders in the first place) kept him going. He meant to see this Qadirian ruin no matter the obstacles and hardships.
He is happy to see the path and the door but also thinks how auspicious this moment in time is -- his first real adventure. He looks around trying to capture every detail and nuance of the scene so he can write a song about it later, not noticing anything particulary dangerous or threatening.
"Well chaps (and lady...), 'ere we are at the first door. Time for the weak of 'eart to turn back eh? I say let us press on boldly! We are Pathfinders, are we not?!?"