As both Jan and Yorad stand ready to rush Orange should he manage to make his way back out of the pit Frankie moves to help Meredith, just so happening to scuff some dirt down into the pit as he moves past. He smoothly ducks in front of her and brings his dagger in low for a kidney-stab; while he doesn't strike the grig himself he does manage to pop another image!
And with his friend stuck down in the pit and with three foes up in his business, the grig has finally had enough. He adopts a defensive position as he tries to bring one last spell to bear...
Hey-o, another Lesser Confusion~
...pointing at Frankie.
"Sorry man, you're on your own!"
With that done, the grig attempts to flee - leaving himself open to attack from his foes.
From down within the pit comes a despairing cry as Orange realizes he's now up s#@$ creek without a paddle. "W-wait, don't leave me! I'm too young to die!"
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Grig Fiddler
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Meredith + Airy
Lazarus
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Orange Quickling
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Frankie
Jan
Yorad
Active Conditions: Bless
Meredith + Airy and Lazarus are UP!
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One last swing at the grig.
The air elemental gets one last swing, too.
She turns and yells at the grig. "Coward! Know that We stood our ground. The trees, the earth, the air, even this child stood with us... this child?" She eyes Frankie with a look of confusion. "A child risked his life for my aid?" She stumbles back and rubs her temples.
"Fr-Frankie?" Meredith's royal demeanor fades in an instant. Maybe the adrenaline wore off. "You- are you alright? Your hands are bloody. Wh-where's Denair? I heard this loud noise and I couldn't concentrate."
She wanders to the edge of the pit, looks down at the quickling, and she gets angry. "I suggest you surrender. Don't know why, but you made me real mad."
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As Meredith offers her terms to the quickling Yorad readies himself to push the orange dude back into the pit...only to see the pit vanish in front of his eyes.
Oh well, it was fun while it lasted...and NO I am NOT going to ask how old it is...best to leave some questions unanswered.
"Yeah no way you can outfight all of us! Give it up now!"
Pavan returns to Golarion from somewhere in the Plane of Air. The small air elemental transforms into a whirlwind and flies into the grig.
Creatures trapped in the whirlwind cannot move except to go where the whirlwind carries them or to escape the whirlwind. Trapped creatures can otherwise act normally, but must succeed on a concentration check (DC 15 + spell level) to cast a spell. Creatures caught in the whirlwind take a –4 penalty to Dexterity and a –2 penalty on attack rolls. The whirlwind can have only as many creatures trapped inside at one time as will fit inside the whirlwind’s volume. The whirlwind can eject any carried creatures whenever it wishes as a free action, depositing them in its space.
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Jan laughs as Lazarus appears to succumb to blood-lust... even if it is of the arcane variety.
"By the Gods Laz... and particularly the Lady of Stars... you are an angry one today. Angry enough to wrestle a bear right out of his fur!"
Jan's laughter turns into roar!
As the grig attempts to flee Meredith takes a potshot at it, missing. But Airy has much better luck and manages to pop another image, leaving just 'two' grigs remaining!
Also not inclined to let the grig get away without a fight Lazarus fires off another round from his wand...and actually manages to connect and do some damage! The grig is caught off-guard by the sudden flare of pain in his back, allowing just enough time for Pavan to swoop into his space. Though the grig manages to evade the initial slam of air that comes his way he's not quick enough to avoid being caught up in Pavan's whirlwind!
"Hey, lemme go! Stop! Okay, okay, I give up, I give up!" the grig squeals. And it's about this time that Orange also realizes that the jig is up and throws his swords to the ground, slowly holding up his hands.
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*BOOOOONG*
As you now find yourselves with two surrendered enemy fey, the Clock Tower suddenly begins to emit a deep, resonant bass tone from its chimes. Looking up, you all see that the western face is once more spinning wildly out of control and as you watch, the other three faces desynchronize. The portals of red and blue that litter the empty, trashed town square slowly begin to fade from existence as the clock continues to chime....
*BOOOOONG*
*BOOOOONG*
*BOOOOONG*
...until, after the thirteenth chime, it goes silent. The time is now 12:34 in the morning and Uringen has returned to its 'normal' state, all signs of temporal anomalies vanished without a trace. Henbane Allseasons whistles softly.
"My...what a spectacle that was! Or is it 'will be'? Hmm."
She turns to you, a sudden expression of concern on her face as though seeing everyone's injuries for the first time. "Oh my! Was there a battle? I am glad that you were not hurt! Well, not hurt any more than you seem to be."
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Relieved that the team survived the battle, and confident Meredith will be able to summon Denair back from wherever she went, Lazarus asks, "If you need healing, let me know."
Once he confirms their fey prisoners are secured, the samsaran casts an orison, and squats down, regarding the pair with his all-white eyes for a few moments. Then he begins questioning the grig and the quickling. "Let's start with your names, eh?"
Where are the mayors and Seripan, I wonder?
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Meredith enjoys tying up the two assailants.
"Frankie, don't worry about Denair. I'll call her back first thing tomorrow. She will be pretty wounded, but we can heal her at that point. It's only a problem if I die first."
She lets Lazarus do the talking. Vague memories fill her mind. A woman, head full of roses, seated upon a throne of brambles. Vines lash out at those who insult or jeer her. Her guardian standing alongside her, joking all the way. Red and Blue portals shimmering in the distance.
Meredith blinks again and returns to the present. "You... did good, Frankie. I don't remember what you did, but I'm sure you did good."
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Frankie shakes his head to snap out of the confusion as Meredith speaks to him, or at him, or near him. "Huh?" He looks down at his bloodied cold iron dagger and grimaces "Oh, ya, mean fey." He tucks it away in his belt, still bloody while he looks around for Denny.
"Ya, where'd she go? And what do you mean its only a problem if you die first? You won't die would you?" The kid puts on one hell of a sad face, even better now that he's serious and not just trying to get out of doing dishes.
He takes a seat next to Meredith and tosses small pebbles at the tied up mean fey as they get questioned by Laz. Mean fey killed Denny, I know they did!
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"They're a squirrelly pair all right, but they don't strike me as smart enough to have put this operation together. No, neither the fiddling grig nor the dashing quickling could possibly be the notorious fey mastermind, Mather Nithra."
Lazarus rises from his squat, frustrated by the fey creatures' reticence.
"If they won't answer our questions, we might as well turn them over to the mayors for justice."
He starts to call for Cerotious, but then he thinks better of it. "I have just the solution. These fey troublemakers have been preying on the Embeth Travelers. If they won't redeem themselves now, let's let Jamel Visser and his Travelers determine their fate."
The samsaran looks down at the two prisoners. "Like as not, they'll feed them to their Embeth hounds."
Maybe that'll convince them to talk.
Sid stirs within the wizard-priest's robes, long floppy bunny ears twitching in irritation. *Shove the fiddle up the grig's arse, why don't you? That'll make him f$~@ing squeal.*
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Taking a hint from Lazarus, Jan offers his own 'solution' of how to deal with the troublesome fey. Hopefully they will be more inclined to talk if properly motivated.
"I know some of you want to place them in cold iron chains and toss them in the nearest well. We don't have time for much else and justice would be served, but I think we should give them a chance to prove they don't deserve such an unpleasant fate."
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Meredith sits down with Frankie. "If Denair gets beat up like that, she just goes home for the day. She'll come back tomorrow." she does nothing to stop Frankie from beaning the fey. I've drive them through with this spear if I had the chance...
"Hey, Henbane. After we turn these two in, we still need to visit the mayors and discuss how to repair the damage the tower caused."
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We warned you.
She's going to get you killed.
She's a traitor, you deserve better.
Welcome Home. Stay Home.
It's not sleep. But Denair rests among a neverending bed of leaves, slowly falling through the foliage. A chorus of voices ring among her, urging her to stay Home.
Those blades hurt so much, and she's still bleeding. So many ungrateful Material visitors. Besides the Boss, they don't understand. Well, maybe Frankie. But Frankie will grow up, then he'll lose his innocence and he'll change. They all do. Denair feels herself drifting away to sleep.
Ah, good to see you again. Are you done with her? Ready to come back to me?
Denair wakes right up and pushes herself up and away. Anywhere but here. Back to the Boss. Doesn't matter how much it hurts.
The two fey offer no resistance as Meredith gets to work tying them up. When Lazarus asks for names, the grig gives him a rather sullen glare.
"Sòlas. He's Herb," he answers, jerking his head towards his quickling companion. "Don't know why it matters to-yeouch!" The grig's words are interrupted as one of Frankie's pebbles bounces off his skull. "Hey come on, you already got us, you gonna kick us while we're down, too??" he whines.
"Anyway...like I said, don't know why our names matter to you lot. Can't go back to Mather Nithra and your Travelers probably will feed us to their hounds," Sòlas grumbles.
At this, Herb the Quickling suddenly squirms at his bonds, clearly upset. "It's not fair! We were here first, our circle was here first! This place isn't for your kind! Humans got the whole wide world under your boot heels...why can't you just let us keep one place for our own?"
The sound of approaching footsteps briefly pulls your attention away from your two captives and you see the Mayors Ogden and Mieren approaching with a couple of the Travelers in tow, as well as Cerotious and Seripan.
"Because we aren't mind-readers," Mayor Ogden answers dryly, though her expression does soften the tiniest bit as she adds, "and because we can often be...short-sighted, in our short lives. Short compared to the fey, anyway."
"Seripan came and fetched us; said you needed some help here so we hurried as quickly as we could," the lady mayor continues as she turns to the group of you. "I'm glad that it turned out to be unnecessary! Er...who is that?"
Mayor Ogden stops, staring rather curiously at Henbane. The dryad offers a vague smile in return. "Oh, I am Henbane Allseasons, a simple walker of time's pathways. It's very nice to meet you again, Mayor."
"Ah...indeed..." Ogden replies, clearly a little flummoxed. "Ahem! It seems as though everyone has had quite the evening. Tell me, my friends, what happened in the tower?"
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At Ogden's request for an explanation Jan pushes Lazarus forward and in a rather lighthearted manner chuckles...
"It's a lot of magic and wizardly things going on in that tower... Fey-stones and enchantments... just like I warned everyone about days ago. BUT LAZARUS CAN EXPLAIN EVERYTHING..."
"You bet he can!" Seripan eagerly agrees. "I mean, I was KINDA there for parts of it - they saved me from those supplies run amok and then there's Allseasons that I THOUGHT was the mastermind or maybe in league with that JERK but they all said she was nice and wasn't a prisoner, so-"
Cerotious clears his throat.
"So let Mister Lazarus or one of the others fill in the gaps," the pixie interjects with a smile.
"Fine, fine..." Seripan sighs.
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Meredith's sullen gaze breaks into pure laughter as Seripan and Cerotious argue. Something about their cadence just lightens the mood.
"I felt like that." She points at the quickling. "My land is my land, and anyone who invades, or steals parts of my home, are invaders. But time doesn't care about ownership. One day I'll move off the farm and someone else will take it over. Tornadoes and earthquakes will shift land around and I have no one to blame. Or maybe strangers show up while I'm away and take some of my stuff to build their own community." She glances at the tower.
"In the end, everyone owns everything. Human, elf, halfling, fey- uh, and whatever Lazarus is." She chuckles. "You saw it, didn't you? A tavern full of us, talking and sharing the land, together. We convinced Henbane to work with us to restore the damage done to the fey magic circles without ejecting us- or cutting our friends to shreds."
"If you're willing to talk it out rather than stab us, you can stay here and see how to talk your way into getting what you want. But if you're going to cause trouble again, I'll be the first one to run you through."
She turns to Lazarus. "Alright then. Looks like you're giving the play-by-play."
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Lazarus delivers a succinct report of the team's actions. "At Mayor Ogden's urging, we entered the clocktower to prevent the fey intruders from sabotaging its complex mechanisms. Inside the tower, we observed chaotic arcane reactions between the tower's gears and some of the stones, remnants of a fey circle, in its walls. We had to clear out a number of pesky vexgit gremlins, and an animated sack."
"To reach the uppermost floor of the tower, we had to solve a puzzling route using a combination of magical portals and the tower's stairs. Eventually, we made it to the belfry, where we discovered the dryad Henbane Allseasons, servant of Shyka, the Eldest of entropy, reincarnation, and time. To ensure lasting peace and stability, we negotiated on Uringen's behalf with Henbane to find a way to restore the fey circle that once stood on the ground the clocktower now occupies."
The samsaran indicates the two fey prisoners. "Exiting the tower, we had to overcome a trio of Mather Nithra's minions, a pair of quicklings led by a grig."
He looks around. "The disruptions seem to have calmed for the time being. All that remains is to honor our end of the peace accord with Henbane Allseasons, and restore the fey circle, restoring a balance of time and place between Uringen and the First World."
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"OOO Don't forget the bottle of drippy silver stuff we got from Henbane!" Frankie points excitedly at the bottle on _____'s belt.
After doing so he slowly turns to the dryad and asks a question that's been bothering him "So why do they call you Henbane? Do you REALLY not like chickens? I think they're kinda fun... great to chase around!" He smiles and laughs, mimicking the fun chasing routine.
Your audience listens to Lazarus' report - as well as Meredith and Frankie's contributions - intently, only offering the occasional gasp of surprise or thoughtful nod. When it's all said and done, the two mayors share a quick glance of mutual understanding and then Mayor Ogden clears her throat.
"It seems that all of Uringen owes you a great debt, Pathfinders. If not your for interventions the tower and likely the entire town would've been lost. Be sure that I will personally send word tomorrow to Venture-Captain Smine and inform him of all you've done here tonight!" She then smiles. "And I believe we can also come to some sort of arrangement to provide the Society access to our quality alchemical goods on a more permanent basis."
However her expression grows quite stern as she turns to regard your two fey prisoners. "After all that you and your friends have done and all the trouble you've caused, I ought to let Jamel put an end to you. But since these people here seem willing to vouch for you, to a point...then perhaps some leniency can be given..."
The grig and the quickling shoot each other a look of relieved amazement and simultaneously open their mouths to speak, only to be swiftly cut off by the mayor.
"...only if you prove yourselves willing to cast off your allegiance to Mather Nithra and seek a better path forward as well as pay back the town for the damage you've done here tonight. And rest assured that the first sign of falsehood or treachery will see you in the bellies of Jamel's hounds before you can so much as blink," she finishes in a steely tone.
Both of the fey look at each other again and then slowly, meekly nod. "Y-yes, ma'am. We'll do as you say," Sòlas agrees. "That's right, honest, we will! No more trouble-making from us," Herb chimes in.
Mayor Ogden gives the pair another stern glare. "Very well. Cerotious, Seripan, I'm putting you in charge of keeping an eye on these two. Do make sure that they stay out of trouble for the rest of the night; their rehabilitation and penance can start tomorrow."
"UGH! FINE! I'll play babysitter Aurelia, but you owe me," Seripan sighs dramatically, folding her arms across her chest. "At least it'll be more fun with Cerotious around to help...stupid fey, gotta be all stupid and cause trouble, making me have to be responsible and stuff..."
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"Well! It seems that Uringen has a lot of work ahead of it, doesn't it?" Mayor Ogden continues as she turns her attention back to you. "But the hour is late and there's very little to be accomplished if we're all sleep-deprived. Please, return to the Oaken Knot and get some rest - you too, Miss Allseasons, you look exhausted! Tomorrow we can begin work on repairing the fey circle, under Miss Allseasons' guidance if she pleases."
She glances at Sòlas and Herb once more. "And perhaps we may even begin the repair of other hurts, just as ancient."
And so the five of you and Henbane part ways with the two mayors and the gaggle of fey, making your way back to your rooms at the Oaken Knot tavern. Henbane seems content to invite herself into Meredith & Frankie's room, paying no heed to any displeasure or discomfort her presence might have.
"How quaint! It's been ages since I've rested in human lodgings," she smiles as she looks around, her expression vague and dreamy once more. "Or wait...perhaps it was only yesterday? Hmm."
The dryad helps herself to a pillow from Frankie's bed and one of the linens from Meredith's, concocting a makeshift pallet on the floor by the window. "Sleep well, mortal friends. Tomorrow...is it tomorrow? Tomorrow, we begin...the...work..." she murmurs as she stretches out, sleep quickly coming to claim her.
As the rest of you settle in for bed you think upon Henbane's words and those of Mayor Ogden. Though in many ways the real work is still to come each of you are able to easily slip off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow will bring with it the dawn of a new day and a brighter future for not only the people of Uringen but the fey that call it and the surrounding forest home.
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Frankie is more than happy to share his pillow with the newcomer. He starts to chatter on about something but before long sleep whacks him over the head like an oversized sap and he's out. His dreams quickly burst onto the scene as he's chasing a whole herd of feather-toed chickens around only to run down the wrong ally and turn tail and run from a herd of angry roosters. Ack! Henbane help!
The next morning a sheet with the words:
Is billowing across the clock tower. Stretching from one side to the other just above the clock face. Wonder how that got there?
The next morning Frankie is still sound asleep, curled up in his bed with his own bedroll and blankie long into the morning. His feet occasionally twitch like he's running from, or after something.
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Meredith is used to Denair curling up around her feet, so she's no stranger to a third guest, especially fey. But Henbane is no Denair. Too pushy. Too flighty. Too... ugh. Meredith misses Denair already.
The next morning, Meredith sees Henbane awake, staring at the sunrise. More importantly, Meredith calls forth Denair. Five rosebuds sprout upon her head as Denair blossoms back. Denair's body still has deep gashes, but she wastes no time in hugging Meredith. Normally Meredith is annoyed, but today she returns the hug.
"I... missed you too, Denair. Frankie too. We have a lot of work to do. Circles to repair, friends to make- and I need to talk to you about dreams I've had about a throne of thorns. But I bet you have a lot of questions to ask Henbane."
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"No Boss. I want to be with you." Denair still hasn't let go. Even with her wounds she still holds on. "You and Frankie. And even Yorad and Laz. I'm just glad all of you are okay." Denair stays by Meredith's side for the rest of the day.
The next day Denair speaks to Henbane, learning more about the nature of the Dryad and their need to stay Home. She's fascinated about how Henbane aligned herself to a different type of tree. She also makes sure Herb and Sòlas are doing well. "Sorry about your friend. The Boss is nice, but vengeful. And forgetful. But if you want to work together, we can help restore the damage done. We'll make it a contest- everyone loves contests!"
Finally, Denair talks to Meredith. "The Throne of Thorns is yours. Well, was yours. You are the Queen of Thorns. But you're still asleep, as a human. It's good- you're learning some humility." She looks at Meredith, pensively. "Do you get it? You should talk to Henbane more."
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Jan is relieved that the fey and Henbane appear to at peace with humans living at such an important site- both in terms of magic and fey-lore.
As is his custom, Jan will build a small altar from stones and other natural materials and dedicate it to Gozreh.
When his prayers and other obligatory sacrifices have been completed, Jan settles down to a well deserved rest.
"Well... I told you all. Gozreh protects and while the Spirits of Nature can at times be fickle, they have offered us guidance and blessings once again."
In the morning Jan will work himself to exhaustion- his physical strength and knowledge of carpentry is put to the test. A test he enjoys he has grown to like nearly as much as adventuring...
In the following days, Jan will take some 'personal time' and hunt in order to keep his skills sharp... hoping to bag an elk Jan set off for his hunt in the early morning hours.
Day Job *Hunting Lodge
Having bagged himself a fine specimen, Jan spends the afternoon preparing the hide and meat for an impromptu feast with his friends and storage for upcoming year. The hide will make a nice blanket for his home...
The organs and bones are burnt as an offering to Gozreh.
Jan is ready to go home and see his wife... hopefully it will be a long and boring winter for the two of them.
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Seeing the other members of his team scatter about to handle their various tasks allows Yorad the poerfect opportunity to take care of some...unofficial business.
What you don't know can't hurt you...at least not right away... He thinks to himself as he canvasses the small village for a business prospect...
Yorad wishes to complete this faction goal: Identify a valuable business prospect during the course of an adventure. Doing so requires a successful Appraise, Knowledge (local), Profession (merchant), Sense Motive, Stealth check (DC = 15 + your character level).
After some time he returns to the others, muttering under his breath about systemic racism...or somesuch nonsense.
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Lazarus is pleased beyond measure when Jamel Visser offers him one of the prized Embeth hounds.
"Thank you, Jamel. I'd read an account of how the Travelers breed a particularly skilled variety of hunting dogs, called Embeth hounds, capable of tracking throughout the dense marshes and tangled forest. They're fond of water, fiercely loyal, and skilled at tracking in difficult areas. Hunters claim Embeth hounds can track a grig across a frozen marsh."
One of the hounds, an alpha female, approaches the wizard-priest, sniffing him. Weighing almost a hundred pounds, her short, dense coat is composed of mottled patches of white, black, and gray fur. Her left eye is a light blue and her right eye the color of light amber.
She gazes into the samsaran's all-white eyes for a moment. Then she licks his slender blue hand once and sits back on her haunches next to him and yawns.
Lazarus scratches behind her ears. "Hello, Juno. Who's a good girl?"
Sid throws an indignant tantrum. *A f+!!ing dog?! Really?! You need that assurance? You prefer an emotionally shallow animal? You see, Laz, when you yell at a dog, his tail will go between his legs and cover his genitals, his ears will go down. A dog is very easy to break, but rabbits make you work for their affection. They don't sell out the way dogs do.*
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Juno sniffs the strangers, considering their diverse scents. She watches their movements, considering their personal temperaments.
*The blue one with the white eyes smells of toil and trouble... Interesting.*
The Embeth hound moves closer to the samsaran and sniffs his hand.
*Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.*
She looks back at her pack. *I choose this one as mine.*
She licks the wizard-priest, marking him as her own. Then Juno sits down near his leg and yawns, the matter settled.
*Perhaps I'll eat the rabbit in his robes.*
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Though you have managed to save the town of Uringen and its mixed human and fey population, there is still much work to be done and the next several weeks are a blur of activity. Since your promise of aid in the restoration of the fey circle came about as part of your Pathfinder duties the Society is willing to allow the lot of you some time off to fulfill said promise.
The work is hard and occasionally frustrating what with having Henbane Allseasons as your overseer and having to decode her often vague and confusing directions. But while you work hard, you also have leeway to play hard during your time in Uringen. Each of you now have your very own Embeth hound - or pup, if you wish it - courtesy of Jamel Visser and while they are an added responsibility they are also amazingly fun and cathartic to spend time with. Seripan also makes sure to stop by often to regale you with music and tales of fey heroes while you work and extends an invitation to join her for revelry at the Oaken Knot every evening. All in all, it's not such a bad way to spend a few weeks and the rest of you even pitch in a little harder so Jan can spend some quality time with his new wife.
Eventually, however, all good things must come to an end. Your newest companion Zavubak is the first to be called back to action, his talents needed elsewhere in the Inner Sea. It isn't long after that that you receive a missive from the Grand Lodge, instructing you to make for the city of Riddleport and the Cypher Lodge. There, you're to meet with one Grandmaster Torch who has a bit of business that he'd like for you to handle...
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"Grandmaster Torch.. he sounds nice!" Blurts out Frankie, oblivious to most things that aren't sweetened or brightly colored, as he tugs on his dog's leash. On the other end is a rather large, furry monster with a droopy face and a slobbery tongue: a St. Bernard.
"COME ON Matilda! All the good cookies will be gone if we don't beat Lazarus there!"
"Rufffff." Barks the oversized dog-beast lazily as it licks itself.
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"We're to meet Grandmaster Torch at the Cypher Lodge in Riddleport, eh? His reputation within the Society is... rather dubious."
While the wizard-priest prepares for departure, he shares what he knows with the rest of the team.
Then he pats his chest, confirming Sid is ready for travel, and he whistles for his Embeth hound. "Come, Juno. We're off on a new adventure."
Lazarus is ready to go.
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Meredith can't believe most of Denair's tales. Meredith's life as a fey queen. But it would explain her affinity. Serpian was a bit annoying, but Meredith did enjoy her stories. And Henbane was always a joy to speak to, even if Meredith had to parse the correct tense.
Meredith laid in a grassy plain when she got the missive. She rose with a yawn and a stretch. "Denair, it's time. We gotta go."
"I'm... gonna miss this place. This is what you want, Denair? Humans and fey living together?" She smiles. "It would be nice, huh?"
Denair looks and smiles. "Yup. Maybe you were too proud when you were Queen. But now... look at you. You're going to unite the planes together, and I'll be right there behind you."
As you all gather your things, say your goodbyes to the inhabitants of Uringen, and prepare to depart, Lazarus thinks back to what he's heard of Riddleport, the Cypher Lodge, and the mysterious Grandmaster Torch...
You know that Riddleport is the third-largest city in Varisia after Korvosa and Magnimar, as well as the nation's most northern port. The city is a haven for pirates and sea-faring brigands, who find themselves far to the north of the Arch of Aroden. Since the city is teeming with criminals and rogues of all kinds, Riddleport is full of potential danger and hard-to-avoid intrigue. Also known as the City of Cyphers, Riddleport takes its name from the Cyphergate, a giant stone arch spanning the natural cove around which the city is built. It is covered on both sides with ancient Thassilonian symbols, although their exact meaning is unknown.
While you're less familiar with the Cypher Lodge, you do know that it acts as the headquarters for the Order of Cyphers - whose members are commonly known as Cyphermages and dedicated to the study of Varisia's ancient monuments.
Grandmaster Torch is likewise something of an enigma but you do know that he was once a field agent for the Pathfinder Society, until his career came to an end in one of the tombs he was exploring. Cursed and left for dead by his peers, he nevertheless managed to escape back to Absalom. His true name, like his career as a Pathfinder, has been left behind in that ancient tomb.
After his return to Absalom Grandmaster began accruing favors from the Pathfinder Society. This continued for several decades before he created the infamous Shadow Lodge within the Pathfinder Society, uniting dozens of disillusioned Pathfinders against the masked Decemvirate, whom they claim served only their own interest and not the well-being of the common Pathfinder. This culminated in the breaking off of several splinter groups with the Shadow Lodge in 4710 AR, and a series of attacks on the Grand Lodge and those loyal to it. Finally, the Decemvirate agreed to some of Grandmaster Torch's demands, hoping to end the violence and bring disenfranchised Pathfinders back into the fold.
Since then, Grandmaster Torch has enjoyed a position of importance within the Pathfinder Society, and has assisted the Decemvirate greatly in hunting down rogue Shadow Lodge agents who refuse to be accepted back into the Society.
The Cypher Lodge is one of Riddleport’s finest inns, and Grandmaster Torch currently inhabits its finest suite. He sits, mostly submerged in a copper tub, flanked by his ubiquitous half-orc bodyguards and the weasel-faced Varisian businessman Guaril Karela, one of the co-leaders of the Exchange.
"I cannot overstate how dangerous Dorianna Ouidda is," the burn-scarred Torch begins, getting right to the point. "She wears many masks, and she uses them all to orchestrate the utter destruction of the Pathfinder Society. As a high-profile politician in Andoran, she blocked the Society’s expansion into that nation. As a Gold Agent in the Aspis Consortium, she uses the Consortium’s limitless wealth to frustrate the Society’s business however she can. And as the criminal mastermind known as the Spider, she engages in elaborate plots to frame the Pathfinder Society for her misdeeds."
Torch pauses for a moment as one of his bodyguards pours a bucket of cooling water over his many burns. "Ouidda even hired the Red Mantis Assassins to murder me, although I’m still a step ahead of those assassins...for now."
"Most importantly, Dorianna Ouidda is one of the few people on Golarion who know the secret identities of the Decemvirate," Torch continues. "She previously crafted an elaborate plot to turn a loyal Venture-Captain against the Decemvirate, and we suspect she is plotting to destroy the Decemvirate even now."
He lets these words sink in.
"Loyal Pathfinders such as yourselves have foiled Ouidda’s schemes again and again. We arranged her arrest in Andoran, but she leveraged her political connections and escaped. The time has come for more drastic action." Torch gestures to the Varisian man at his side. "Guaril has a network of informants here in Riddleport, and they’ve identified the Spider’s lair."
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"I would say 'observant acquaintances' rather than 'informants', but no matter," Guaril Karela smoothly replies. "Ouidda owns a controlling interest in the Weaver’s Parlor, a gambling hall in the Free-Coin District. She transacts private business from ancient chambers beneath the gambling hall, visited by only a few trusted associates. These chambers are accessed through a hidden door at the west end of the gambling hall's wine cellar."
Grandmaster Torch continues, "We know the Spider is in her lair now. Enter the chambers beneath the Weaver’s Parlor. Capture Dorianna Ouidda and return with her here. Ouidda may have made notes about the Decemvirate or their identities - bring that information back as well."
"Let me stress this: Ouidda must be captured alive," Torch adds, leaning forward and gazing firmly into each of your eyes to make sure you fully understand. "We need to learn the extent of her information about the Pathfinder Society and find out whether she has revealed this information to others."
He settles back into his tub. "The five of you," he gestures at Lazarus, Frankie, Meredith, Jan, and Yorad, "have quite the list of accomplishments - especially that little prison break in Cheliax. My yes, that was a clever and bold little enterprise. And so I am certain that you're up to the task at hand."
"While time is of the essence I also don't want to rush past any questions or deprive you of the opportunity to make introductions among yourselves, seeing as there is a new face among your ranks," Torch concludes, nodding at Serge. "So by all means, take a few minutes to speak with each other or ask any questions you might have."
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Jan is quick to start asking what he believes to be a series of pertinent questions.
"I understand that capturing Ouidda is our goal... but if we have to chose between putting her down or letting her escape capture, I assume you would prefer the former, yes?"
"Are your informants... I mean a acquaintances aware of any other exits from Ouidda's private chambers?"
"What kind of security should we expect at the gaming hall?"
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"Greetings," a well-armored man smiles warmly at everyone. Engraved on his heavy plate armor is a bastard sword and single wing. He carries a massive greatsword on his back. "I'm Serge Foxmourn, Paladin of the General of Vengeance, Ragathiel. Ah! Hello, Meredith. It is good to see you again," he smiles. "Last we met, we helped that poor fellow Kalkamedes break free of his sleepwalking curse." Serge frowns recalling the banishment of Koth'Vaul.
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Meredith already misses Seripan's stories, even when they rambled. Even Sólas could play a good jig when he wasn't mumbling about how humans ruined the circle of stones.
Back to espionage and trickery.
"Okay, so how do we blend in, again?" Meredith rubs her forehead. "Are they alright with a group like us-" Meredith motions to the Blue Man, and the Child, and the Fox Tree, and the Five Roses in her hair- "just walking around? Sounds like as soon as someone realizes what we're doing there, Ouidda's going to bolt."
The only good news Meredith seems from this is reuniting with an old friend. "Serge, it's been too long." She clasps the man's arm and gives a firm shake. "You missed a fun journey into a beautiful town. Now we're dragging you into an ugly mess. If someone asks if you're from the Pathfinder Society, your deity allows you to lie, right?"
She frowns back at Grandmaster Torch. "You sure you've got the right group for this? The number of weapons we're packing is bound to raise suspicion."
Torch shakes his head at Jan. "We’re commissioning you because we’re confident you can perform this mission as directed. You must take Dorianna Ouidda alive - and that isn’t negotiable. We’re worried that spells to raise the dead or speak with the dead might fail, as they sometimes do."
"Otherwise it would be much simpler for you and I both to bring her in dead," he chuckles grimly. "And I assure you, in many cases I prefer the easier and simpler way when feasible."
"About the chambers underneath the Weaver's Parlor I regret to say that we know very little. They are her private sanctum and she only rarely transacts any business there with others," Torch continues. "We have heard they have a spider motif, and are very old, but we don’t have any information about their layout. That said, Ouidda is a clever and dangerous quarry - keep your wits about you for she is sure to have enacted a variety of security methods to stymie foes and alert her to danger."
When Meredith voices concerns about how...distinct...the group of you are, Torch gives a rather broad smile. "Friend Meredith, have you never been to a gambling hall? The clientele are often the most fascinating melange of individuals from all parts of the Inner Sea and beyond. Once you make your way inside I would be very surprised if your presence raises so much as an eyebrow."
"As for getting into and out of the Weaver's Parlor itself..." Torch shrugs. "I leave that to your own good judgement, though I would recommend that you not attempt to force your way in. Subtlety would be wise."
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As you make your introductions, ask your questions, and receive some answers, each of you consider what you might've heard on your own about the nefarious Spider or the den of iniquity known as the Weaver's Parlor...
You recall seeing a flyer on your way here, advertising a week-long gambling tournament for wealthy gamblers to be held at the Weaver's Parlor. Only well-known gamblers or those with a large bankroll are admitted.
The other owner of the Weaver’s Parlor is Gaston Cromarcky, the Overlord of Riddleport. Overlord Cromarcky shamelessly uses the Gendarmes, Riddleport’s city watch, for personal events, so the Gendarmes will be providing security at the Weaver’s Parlor.
One of the Spider’s agents commissioned the construction of several clockwork guardians months ago, but the current whereabouts of those guardians is unknown. It is rumored that the Spider uses the guardians herself, as she is unwilling to trust corruptible mortals to ward her inner sanctum.