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Ylva does help Hepsubia gather the horns of the minotaur. They'd make a fine set of drinking horns. For the most part, though, she stays in the background, her expressions much more subdued and thoughtful than when they were coming up the mountain. Every now and then, her hands can be seen rubbing at where the vicious wounds that had felled had been, and her eyes are focused back along the trail. In these unguarded moments it is clear that she is worried, or worse, afraid.
Their arrival at Absolom and Tupp's question bring a smile to her face.
"No, my little friend, these are sights one does not see often. Unless you know Ol' Piggy," she replies with a grin.
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"All in all, I'd say that was a successful first mission for the Society!"
At Ylva's comments on Chelish opera, he replies, "I completely agree with you about their millennia-old High Opera productions. I mean, who really still understands spoken Azlanti, and the music... well, it's not quite as bad as it sounds. Thankfully, High Opera isn't really performed much outside of Sargava anymore."
Your trip into the foothills of the Kortos Mountains completed, Janira leads you all through the busy streets of Absalom back to the Grand Lodge where Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shane awaits. Upon learning that everyone has returned safely he whisks you all, including Janira, into his office.
"Welcome, welcome! It's so good to see that you've all returned safely," he greets you as he hops up into a sitting position on his desk. "Janira will give me her own report later but for now, I want to hear from you as this was your Confirmation! What exactly lies inside those caves? Were you able to learn anything about the gillmen? Please, tell me everything - leave no detail out!" he gushes, clearly eager to hear your stories.
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Once you've given Master Shane your reports, he beams at all of you. "Well done, well done indeed," he applauds. "It seems to me that you all performed your duties in an exemplary manner! Of course, how could we expect any less? You were guided by an equally exemplary teacher," he says as he nods at Janira, who practically bounces up and down with delight at the praise.
"Congratulations! You are all now the foremost authorities on these caverns and what they contain - so I think it only fair that you get the honor of naming them, eh Janira?"
"Oh yes, I agree completely Master Shane!" Janira nods enthusiastically. "Not many new initiates or agents receive the honor of naming a site or artifact! How lucky you all are!"
Master Shane hops off of his desk and strides forward, shaking each one of you by the hand. "It's my honor to promote each of you to the status of full Pathfinder field agents. Oh, there'll be a little ceremony of sorts later to make it more official-like, don't worry! I expect some of you will be hearing from Master Farabellus and others from Master Zey within the next few days on that regard. Until then, go and rest - you've more than earned it. You too, Janira! Now go! Shoo!" he laughs as he ushers you all back out of his office.
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True to his word, after a few days of relaxing and taking it easy, each of you are approached by one of the Masters - Ylva, Tupp and Hepsubia by Master Farabellus and Zithembe, Sylvak, Kiango, and Theodric by Master Zey - who confirm you as fully-fledged Pathfinders. As part of the ceremony each of you are also gifted with your very own wayfinder, personalized with your name as well as the words: Explore, Report, Cooperate - words that you all have taken to heart during your adventure together and that you will be expected to uphold for as long as you remain a member of the Pathfinder Society. With your Confirmation complete, each one of you is now ready to go forward...and make the Society proud.
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Ylva looked down at the wayfinder as the silver inlay gleamed in the light of the fire crackling merrily in the tavern's hearth. She felt guilty for having it. What had she done to deserve it? Survived? She shuddered and rubbed the place where the minotaur's axe had shattered her collar bone. No, she'd been dead three times over if not for the companions she was among. Fighting, then? That too was wrong. She'd been no more help there than anywhere else. The two fights she'd participated in had seen her on the ground with her blood flowing freely from her wounds.
No, she had not earned the right to be called a Pathfinder, nor had she earned the finely crafted wayfinder she now held. It bore her name in the runes of her homeland, but it was no more hers than the sky. She was a liar, a facade that would crumble when the time came again for her to risk her life. Could she do it?
The memory of waking up and shivering in fear as a nightmare had made her relive the fight with the minotaur told her no. Yet what could she do? The Pathfinders offered her a chance to earn enough to go back home after making a name for herself. She doubted, even before her Confirmation, that she'd live long enough to see that come to pass. She'd known herself too well, or she thought she had.
She got up and slipped the wayfinder into her pack. The night was still young, but she'd already earned a room and a bottle of cheap rotgut with her songs and tales of heroes and legends. Maybe with enough drink, the nightmares would not come. And if they did, maybe she would not remember them. She hoped, desperately that she wouldn't. She didn't know if she could keep herself from screaming this time.
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"Ylva?!" The familiar voice of an excited young halfling cuts through the sounds of the tavern. On the other side of the room, Tupp jumps up and down, waving his hand in the air to get his fellow initiate- no, his fellow Pathfinder's attention. Not too easy a task when you only come up to the knees of most everyone in the room. "Hey, Ylva it's so great to see you again... Hey, have you got your Wayfinder yet? I got mine this morning, and it looks soo- Oh!"
Now that he has finally got close enough to see Ylva's expression, Tupp stops mid-sentence, his hand half buried in his pack where his Wayfinder lies, "Don't worry about it, I'm sure you'll get yours soon! It takes time to engrave those names so neatly." He says reassuringly, once again totally misreading the situation. "I know what'll take your mind off of it! I was just about to attempt making some marshmallows like those Janira had, you want to help me test recipes?" He offers, smiling widely, "I just need to find Sori first... I'm sure she ran in here." He puts his hands on his hips, frowns playfully, and starts looking around for his runaway chicken.
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Ylva can't help but smile at the mention of Sori running off. Tupp could lighten anyone's mood and it was hard to be gloomy around him.
"A thousand pardons Tupp. I find my eyes heavy and my head longing for a pillow," she lies, "mayhaps I can help find the wayward Sori. I just pray she has not found herself in a cooking pot."
Better to let them believe a lie than know the truth of me. Would that I could be as cheerful as that one.
Her thoughts carry her to the bar where the tavern owner was filling tankards and mixing drinks. She raps the bartop with a knuckle and gives a shrill whistle.
"Felix! I have a favor to ask? Could you make sure that this one's pet chicken has not found herself in your soup?"
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As Felix heads around back to check, Tupp looks up at Ylva with a grateful smile. "Thanks Ylva! I don't know what gets into her, she just has these funny turns and just runs off for no-" A cacophonous clatter of pans rings out from the kitchen, followed by a loud, "" and an upturned pot comes running out of the kitchen, closely followed by a cook waving a ladle. "Bok bok bok-" The pot clucks as it runs between the legs of a gaggle of tipsy elves and then into a table, upending itself to reveal the startled looking chicken inside. Sori shakes her head clear and looks up at the angry looking human with the ladle. "Buh-gawk?"
"Sori!" Tupp runs off to his chicken's defence, apologising profusely to the poor cook. Finally, after a few minutes of heated negotiation and an exchange of coin, the young halfling returns to the bar and Ylva holding the pot in both hands, Sori still inside. "Well that was lucky! I needed a bigger pot if I'm going to be a Pathfinder... I mean, now I can cook for everyone in the team. You'd be surprised how many people miss second breakfast, but it's the most important meal of the day." He hefts the pot, trying to rebalance the heavy thing so he doesn't drop it. "This one was such a bargain too." He adds with a smile.
Sori looks up at Tupp, who's currently wearing clothes a decade out of style and fraying at the edges, and clucs under her breath. The things I have to do to get you to actually buy something.
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Ylva starts shaking at the sight of the clucking pot, and bursts into a fit of giggles as Tupp states what a bargain he'd gotten. She hates the way she giggles, but she can't help it this time. The sight was just too absurd, and the glare Sori gave Tupp only made it worse. She falls to her knees and wraps Tupp in a hug as her giggles turn to full-blown laughter.
"Thank you, Tupp. I needed to laugh," she states simply before letting him go and sitting on her heels. "Do you have a place to sleep this night," she asks before she can stop herself.
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Tupp almost drops his new pot in surprise as Ylva bursts into laughter and wraps him in a big old hug. "Don't mention it." He replies to her thanks, although he has no idea what he did to make her feel so much better... Humans are such odd ducks. He then smiles gratefully at the opportunity to talk eye to eye for a change now that Ylva is sitting on her heels. "Oh yes, thank you! I have a small bunk in the Grand Lodge... Well, I think it used to be a cupboard, but it's big enough for all my stuff and it's nice and cosy..." He trails off as he starts thinking about how he first met the young woman in front of him, she had been sleeping on a bench in a tavern. She must be homeless! That's why she's so tired... His eyes go wide. "Do you? I mean, it'll be a squeeze, but you can always crash at my place if you want!" He offers sincerely, "I probably should do some training tonight anyway, so you'll have the whole room to yourself."
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Sylvak is quiet on the way back, but he listens attentively to all that is said. Each day of their return he spends the first few hours after sunset staring at the sky, and the first few hours after sunrise praying and writing.
At the ceremony, he smiles warmly when presented with his new wayfinder but stares off wistfully at nothing as the short moment of pomp concludes.
Well... its official: a new life as a Pathfinder... far removed from the evils of Irrisen... safer, even with the adventuring, than home... no need to ever return there now... nope, no need to ever see the home where I was raised or any of my kin ever again...
"Thank you," the half-elf replies to Master Zey before retiring to the archives to busy himself with some sorting (and some reading of the books he's supposed to be sorting).
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Ylva looks at Tupp with surprise, then quickly looks away, her cheeks turning pink.
"I- I..." she stammers, unsure if she should accept or if it would be better to politely refuse.
"Thank you, Tupp. I am in your debt," she say after turning her head back to face him, but not quiet meeting his eyes. There's something lurking in her icy-blue eyes, but she looks up and at the tavern keeper before he can get a better look.
"I'll take some bread, meat, and cheese to go. And some fruit if you have any," she tells him as she stands up. She places the coins of the meal on the bartop, then places a few more form a couple of bottles of mead. Once everything's together in a cloth rag, she hands one of the bottles to Tupp and gives him a smile.
"For you, my friend."
Some days after the completion of your confirmation and official 'swearing in' as Pathfinder agents, each of you receive a short letter from Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng requesting that you meet him outside of the gates of the Grand Lodge at noon, the following day. Strangely enough, the letters also request that each of you dress in formal attire for the occasion which may or may not ruffle a few feathers for those who despise dressing up. Just the same, all of you manage to cobble together something presentable and make your way out to the appointed meeting place the following day.
The fall rains have come early this year, and a chill wind blows off the waters of Absalom’s harbor, bringing with it the smell of a storm somewhere far off at sea. Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng hurries down the street in a most unusual outfit for the aging Venture-Captain: some sort of blue military uniform complete with a green sash displaying a pair of ornate medals and a black umbrella. "Ah, there you all are," he half-mutters to himself. "Is everyone here?" Without waiting for an answer, he turns on his heels and heads off at a brisk pace, occasionally turning around to make sure everyone is keeping up.
You recognize that Dreng is wearing a dress uniform of a junior officer in the Taldan Navy.
You also recognize that he is wearing two service medals: a Combat Action Ribbon and a Counter-Espionage Ribbon, the latter of which is rumored to only be awarded to members of the Lion Blades, Taldor’s secretive espionage organization.
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"Tupp Thistledown reporting for du- Oh!" Tupp looks up from his bow to notice the unexpectedly abrupt venture-captain is already halfway down the street. As the young Halfling scampers off after Dreng, he struggles a little with his new formal outfit... Well, new might not be the word for it. He's left his normal dusty old armour at his bunk and is currently wearing stiff stripy Hakama that are slightly too short and a Kimono that is slightly too long, both of which were procured last night when Sori had another of her funny turns and decided to nest in a fellow halfling's wardrobe at the Grand Lodge. Luckily, halfling's are fairly laid back and after Tupp spent the whole night doing laundry to apologise for his chicken's actions, he was able to buy a few items the other halfling didn't want anymore for an extremely reasonable price, perfect for today. "Wait for me... Is there danger? Are we off save the king?" He calls, padding awkwardly down the streets in stiff trousers and bare feet to catch up.
He may not be wearing his armour, but he still has his well polished sword and scabbard, and his well used pack filled with his usual gear. This could be a mission after all and he can't leave stuff like that behind! However, he can always slip off his backpack if he needs to look more presentable. Riding in her usual position on the pack over Tupp's right shoulder is an unusually quiet Sori. If you didn't know better, you'd be sure that the chicken is embarrassed by the pretty pink bow tied around her neck... Tupp wasn't sure what formal attire was for chickens and made an executive decision.
Taken aback by Dreng's oddly abrupt manner you all hurry after him, quite curious to hear what he has in mind for you. And thankfully, you don't have to wait long. As he continues walking, Dreng begins to speak once more.
"You're probably wondering where I'm dragging you, eh? Seven years ago, I sent young agents much like yourselves on a preliminary investigation of the necropolis below the Drownyard in the Precipice Quarter. The Drownyard is the name given to the old Tri-Towers School, once home to some of Absalom's wealthiest progeny," Dreng explains. "It was destroyed in the great earthquake of 4698 AR and we thought that all of the children, teachers, and other staff had perished."
Here, Dreng pauses for a moment and suddenly takes a few steps backward. "But let me back up a bit," he chuckles. "Eight years ago, the Society discovered an ancient necropolis under the Drownyard. It dates back to the third century AR and, if you know anything about Absalom's history, you'll know that we know almost nothing about those early years."
"It took me almost a year of negotiating with the parents of the children who died in the Tri-Towers Yard to convince them to grant us access to the site," Dreng continues, suddenly hurrying forward again. "What did we find? A lot of spooky stuff: undead, haunts, and some nasty bugs! But we also found something unexpected: a survivor. A little slip of a girl named Junia Dacilane somehow survived in a death-like state for 10 years, the only thing keeping her alive a Ring of Sustenance she'd found in the crypts."
"Junia's mother, Lady Miranda Dacilane, was of course beside herself when we pulled her living daughter from the ruins and she vowed not only to give the Society full access to the property, but personally underwrite our archaeological efforts there," the eccentric Dreng informs you, skipping a little now as he walks. "Soon thereafter I set up an archaeological dig at the Drownyard and we've been pulling out fascinating fragments from Absalom's early history ever since. Every year I visit Lady Dacilane to renew our contract to maintain the dig but it seems this year she wants us to jump through an additional hoop. She wants us, or rather you, to escort her daughter back to the Drownyard. It seems Junia's become a bit obsessed with her old alma mater but the Precipice Quarter is no place for pampered young noblewomen. Think you can handle playing escort?"
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formal wear... this silk armor is often used in military ceremonies... I must know someone with an old chasuble, I could just wear that over my armor to be sure...
Sylvak arrives at the appointed hour looking even more priestly than usual. He glances in mild disbelief at his companions while they follow the eccentric Venture-Captain through the streets. His upper lip curls in distaste at the description of their assignment and his brow furrows as he tries to force a smile and answers, "Yes, of course... a group of inexperienced adventurers babysitting an important young noblewoman in a dangerous ruin, no problem... what could possibly go wrong?"
Suddenly realizing he'd uttered those words aloud, he hastily adds, "I mean, she survived down there alone... with us with her there should be no problem."
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The night you invited Ylva to stay with you at your quarters in the Grand Lodge, you find her curled and whimpering in fear sometime after you had gone to bed.
Ylva spends almost an hour fretting after receiving the letter. She'd never been all that comfortable with those from high society, and the request that they dress formally leaves her feeling nothing but dread. She thinks about asking Hepsubia, but her inability to find the elf leaves her looking for anyone else that could help her find a suitable outfit. She eventually finds herself walking into one of the classier tailor's shops in Absolom and asking for help, all the while looking off to the side with an expression of frustrated embarrassment.
The gown she wears is covered by an expensive cloak that is decorated with the geometric knots often seen in Ulfen designs. Glints of silver can be seen under the hood of her cloak, and the headband she wears dangles a sapphire on her forehead. She doesn't meet the others' gazes, nor does she say much beyond a simple greeting. As everyone follows Venture-Captain Dreng, she keeps quiet, even when told what they were to do.
Anyone looking into her eyes, however, can see the fear lurking in them as her cloak shifts, almost as if she were reaching up to rub at where the minotaur's axe had struck her.
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Hepsubia comes, her slender fingers playing quickly with a strange apparatus.
Look what I bought.. Its a mechanical tool that can change shape to the most useful thing. I could do nearly anything with that! It can be a small spade, a short axe, a lever, a magnifying lens, a set of scales...Of course you can't use it for very specifics jobs, like a surgeon or an alchimist. But it will be handy, I'm sure, and I'm saving quite a bit of money, instead of having to buy a set of tools for evey job.
She spots Yvla
Nice outfit! Should I buy something less casual too?
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"I'm sure it's fine, Sylvak." Tupp notes, "I mean, if it's an archaeological site now, it must be safe or the workers wouldn't be allowed to go down... right?" He hadn't heard of the sad story of the Drownyard before, or the miraculous discovery of the girl, and finds the whole thing fascinating. "Okay... So, Ms Dacilane was down there for ten years... and that was seven years ago... How old is she? Is she even going to want us babysitting her if she's almost as old as Hep?" He asks the eccentric Venture-Captain as he jogs to keep up, sticking noticeably close to the sharply dressed Ylva the whole time, almost like an older brother looking after a worried sibling. He also asks to have a quick look at Hepsubia's new toy if he gets the chance, it sounds like quite a remarkable thing to the young halfling.
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"Hepsubia, did you not read the Venture Captain's summons? He asked us to dress nobly," Ylva whispers into the elf's ear after she asks if she should have dressed more formally.
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Tupp's hovering would have normally gotten on Ylva's nerves, but now...
Now she's only too aware of how badly the events of their confirmation had scarred her. She'd never been beaten so soundly before, The Minotaur had fallen, but if she'd been alone against the beast, she would have died. She still might have if not for the healing spells of her comrades. Even as miraculous as they were, though, they could not heal all, and Tupp had already seen the evidence of that.
Ylva flinches with a soft cry of fear when Tupp's hand touches her shoulder. After a moment she turns her head to see him watching over her with a look of sympathy and concern. She shifts her posture to sit next to him in the small cubby of room. After a long moment, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and begins to softly sob, sounding between relief and frustrated impotence.
Several minutes later, she lets go, exhausted, but still not wanting to go back to sleep. Instead, she sits beside him, shivering.
"Tupp," she begins to ask in a soft, broken voice, "is there anything warm to drink? My hands turn to ice, and I cannot warm them."
Dreng gives no outward indication of having heard anything but Sylvak's second comment as he slows his pace a little to clap a hand on the elf's shoulder, and Zithembe's.
"That's the spirit! Yes, with you there to keep watch on Ms. Dacilane there should be no trouble at all," he nods. "As for her age? The girl aged neither physically or mentally during her long slumber, so although this should technically be her 28th year she appears and acts like a young lady of 18...or so I've been told."
Noticing the little gadget that Hepsubia fiddles with, Dreng's face lights up. "Ah! That's one of those Traveler's Anytools, right? Handy little contraptions, aren't they? Why..."
And Dreng continues to chatter away on the many, many uses of anytools as you make your way toward the Dacilane residence...
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The Precipice Quarter was once a wealthy neighborhood called Beldrin's Bluff, until an earthquake in 4698 AR broke several blocks of the district into the sea and killed hundreds.
After the earthquake, the people of Beldrin's Bluff moved away. Many people in Absalom believe the district is cursed, and restless undead and vermin roam the streets at night. The most prominent locations in Beldrin's Bluff were the Tri-Towers Yard, an academy for the children of Absalom's wealthy and powerful, and the Arboretum Arcanis, which displayed rare plants from all over the Inner Sea.
The Tri-Towers Yard is haunted. The spirits of the children who perished in the earthquake are unable to reach their final rest. For nearly a decade, a man named Deris Marlinchen, the father of one of the young victims, wandered the yard, speaking to spirits no one else could see. Since his departure seven years ago, the haunts at the old school have grown increasingly malevolent.
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"I recall that Beldrin's Bluff--what remains of it after the earthquake--has been abandoned to be overrun by vermin and whatever ghosts may roam there. I wonder if there were any carnivorous plants housed in the Arboretum Arcanis that may have grown wild in the intervening years," Zithembe comments.
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Tupp remembers hearing something about the earthquake, but the other news is a little troubling. "Ghosts? In the streets?" He asks, surprised the city watch, or even the Pathfinder Society would allow such a thing. "Maybe we will be needed after all..." He looks ruefully down at his smart new outfit, suddenly feeling under-dressed without his tatty armour. I hope we have time to stop by my room before we go to that place.
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Ylva takes the mug in both hands and accepts it and the blanket with a soft word of thanks. She sips at the steaming hot beverage, her eyes lighting up and widening in delighted surprise as she slurps up one of the marshmallows and it dissolves in her mouth. For several long minutes, she sits there, letting the warmth of the drink bring feeling back to her fingers.
"My parents were killed when I was just beginning my ninth winter," she says, breaking the silence, "we were passengers on a ship bound for Abolom. My clan is small, but we can be found in many places. I even have a couple of cousins in the Pathfinder Society. I think we were moving here so my father could join the Ulfen Guard after an old acquaintance recommended him. A chelish captain with a grudge stopped and boarded the ship and..."
Ylva closed her eyes as she remembered the blood and the yelling and what came after. She shivered and gritted her teeth against the sobs until she got herself back under control.
"I have been alone since then. Even after I was rescued by the Grey Falcons, I was alone. They brought me here, but the orphanages had little room and I was just another mouth to feed. I often got into fights, so much so that I was kicked out on the street two years after I had arrived. I survived and... and..."
She took in a great, shuddering breath as she tried to keep her hard won control. It was hard, harder than she could ever imagine, but she was slowly eroding from the inside. She needed help and Tupp was the only one here to offer it. If she couldn't open up to the earnest halfling, then who could she open up to?
"I thought I was tough. I thought I could survive and thrive in the Society, but I am just a burden. I was laid low thrice and only served as a distraction to my fellows. I am scared, Tupp. I am terrified of another fight like the one with the minotaur, and fighting is all I am skilled at!"
Her words, though still quiet, are edged in bitter derision for herself. Tears roll down her cheeks as she finally admits what has been bothering her since that night.
"I am a coward, Tupp. I do not deserve to be in the Pathfinder Society," she sobs. Her eyes close and she begins to cry in earnest.
"I hope that the spirits of the dead are at peace. The wise know to stay away from those that are not," Ylva says when Tupp mentions ghosts. She makes a sign of warding over her heart, revealing the silver and blue of the gown under her cloak.
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Tupp listens quietly as Ylva bares her soul, thoughtfully sipping his cocoa trying his best to imagine a life without six brothers, seven uncles, and an untold number of other relatives around him all the time. When she finally breaks down again, he puts his arm around her shoulders (as far as he can in any case) and says earnestly. "I'd like to tell you something my father once said to me... Being brave isn't about never being scared, it's about what you do when you are. He told me that the bravest people he knows are scared all the time." He tries to catch her eye, "I don't think you're a coward, Ylva! Even after suffering terrible wounds during our confirmation, you got up again and again, always the first one to take on the next threat. That takes a kind of courage and toughness I can only dream of!" He smiles and adds. "I think the Society needs more people like you, not less."
"She's alive though!" Tupp hastens to add, "I mean, she's not some kind of mummy lurching out of her tomb to eat babies, or whatever it is they do. She's just... well preserved for her age." He screws up his face as even he realises he messed up that explanation. "Again, that's not because she's is, or ever was, dead... well, I suppose she was... mostly dead? Well, anyway, she wasn't entombed on purpose." Still feeling as if he's making things worse, he finishes by saying. "Umm, earthquake."
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Ylva looks up as Tupp begins to speak, her sobs, at least, quiet as she listens.
"Why do I feel broken," she asks after he finishes. "I feel like an untempered blade that has shattered. I fear for my life. I fear that I will only serve to weigh down the others. What good is getting up if all you do is get beaten back down?"
She curls up and slides down until her head is even with Tupp's. Her mug rests just under her nose, and the steam rises to warm the tip of it.
"I do not see what you see in me, Tupp. I do not feel brave or tough," she says after a moment. She looks out at nothing, seemingly no better for the encouragement. The tears had stopped, but that was likely more because of exhaustion. The moments stretch long as she sips the cocoa and melting marshmallows.
"You are kind," she tells him suddenly, her quiet voice sounding loud, "you are courageous, and you are strong, Tupp. I am blessed to have a friend like you."
Though still somber, she can't help but chuckle at Tupp's awkward explanation.
"The time of the entombing was and is not yet. She lives, ten years of her life made naught by the magics that sustained her through the time of her interment. What chance had sought to steal, fate gave her freely. Is that what you meant, Tupp?"
Sylvak knows that haunts are created by unquiet spirits that react violently to the presence of the living. While the conditions that might cause a haunt to manifest vary, they always originally arise from a source of terrific mental or physical anguish endured by living, tormented creatures. A source of suffering can create many such haunts and multiple sources can consolidate into a single haunt. The power of the source has little bearing on the strength of the haunt - instead, it's the magnitude of the suffering or despair that created the haunt that decides the haunt's power.
The learned elf also knows that haunts can be quite hard to detect before they actually manifest and that positive energy is effective in neutralizing them for a time. But in order to destroy a haunt for good, some sort of specific action has to be undertaken - and the nature of said action is often different from haunt to haunt.
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After another ten minutes or so of trekking through the rain, you finally arrive at your destination. Dacilane Manor is an imposing four-story townhouse of heavy masonry with a parapet roof that is festooned with numerous leering, demonic gargoyles. After knocking on the door, a middle-aged halfling woman in a large apron answers it.
"Oh! Master Dreng! Please come in. My lady will join you momentarily in the drawing room," she smiles, beckoning everyone inside. The interior of Dacilane Manor is just as imposing as the outside. A wide foyer with a grand staircase leads to the second floor, while open double-doors lead into the drawing room, where the servant leads you. Heavy black draperies cover all the windows, shrouding the manor in shadows. All of the furniture in the common areas is oversized, expensive, and gothic, made of dark-stained mahogany wood.
You're left to wait only a few minutes before your hostess, Lady Dacilane, comes striding into the room. The noblewoman is a tall and stern-looking, yet attractive, Chelaxian woman with sharp features, a fair complexion, and black hair accented with gray and white. She is dressed in a well-made, floor-length black gown streaked through with crimson. A plain-looking silver pentagram necklace is her only jewelry.
Dreng immediately jumps up to greet her, bowing and kissing her hand in a formal fashion. "Ah, Lady Dacilane! You are as lovely as ever," he smiles as he releases her hand. "I hope we didn't keep you waiting long - the weather outside is rather foul today." He turns to the group, gesturing with his hand. "My Lady, I have brought with my some of my finest agents - Tupp Thistledown, Ylva Whitescale, Zithembe, Kiango, Sylvak Geldhaar, Hepsubia Althein, and Theodric DeSoldon," Dreng continues, introducing each of you before launching into a speech about the importance of Lady Dacilane’s ongoing support of the Society’s activities and the many important artifacts they have been able to recover from the Tri-Towers Yard necropolis.
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For her part Lady Dacilane listens politely to Dreng's speech, making a few pro-forma inquiries into several details about the management of the site before turning to address you all directly.
"My thanks to you for your patience. I have always preferred to get the smaller details out of the way before moving on to more important matters," she begins. "As I am sure Master Dreng has already informed you, I have a particular request of the Pathfinder Society this year. My daughter Junia has recently celebrated her eighteenth birthday, but she maintains a certain obsession with the traumatic events that befell her at the Tri-Towers Yard so many years ago."
The noblewoman sighs. "I have stopped her from sneaking out of the manor and visiting that place several times but now I have grown to think that her past is keeping her from fully embracing her future. I would ask that you accompany her to the gods-forsaken Precipice Quarter and let her see her fill of the decay and misery. Perhaps those sights will cure her of her unnatural obsessions."
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Once out of the rain, Ylva throws the cloak back to reveal gown done in blue, white, and silver. The peculiar thing is that it is cut more like a Tien gown than an Ulfen one, yet the patterns in the silk are obviously of Ulfen origin. The silver jewelry is of fine, if simple, make with small, well-cut sapphires hanging from her headband and her necklace. She looks at the others with a small, embarrassed smile when they notice the finery.
"I did not know what raiment to choose, so I asked for aid. This was what they choose for me," she explains quietly while they wait.
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The dark tones wear on Ylva's nerves, but not enough to cause her any worry. No, that was left to Lady Dacilane. Old scars ache as her eyes fall on the pentagram and the sharp, chelish features of her face. It was only for a moment, but she'd remembered the beatings for less she'd received in those miserable months she'd spent in Chelish hands. Her heart thudded in her chest as she averted her gaze and tried not to rub her arms where the tails of the cat had wrapped around them. She gives a nod at her introduction, but otherwise stays still and silent. Until now, she'd forgotten how terrified of the Chelish she'd been when she was a young girl. She almost wished she was back with the minotaur.
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so dark and dreary... and a Chelish family, we've all heard rumors of their kind... though, I suppose many would say the same about Irrisen... still, I can't help but wonder if Junia was affected enough by her time among the haunts to necessitate all this, or if all this predated the disaster and might somehow point to how she alone survived...
Sylvak moves distractedly around the room looking at, and touching, things more than perhaps he should.
"No, she has sadly shared little with me," Lady Dacilane sighs, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes...but also hurt. "However, Junia has a particular affection for the Pathfinder Society, most likely because it was your members who rescued her from the necropolis. It is my hope that she will be more forthcoming about her condition with you."
"As to where she is, she is currently upstairs; I shall call for her once you are ready to depart," the noblewoman adds, shooting Sylvak a strange look as his fingers idly dance over a small vase sitting on a nearby table.
"Is there something on your mind, Master Sylvak?"
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Tupp bows respectfully when introduced to Lady Dacilane, and listens carefully to the questions and answers before chiming in with one of his own. "Is there curfew? Like, do you want us to bring your daughter home by midnight or something? How much do you really want her to see out there? I heard some disturbing things about the Precipice Quarter, and it might be really dangerous after dark."