Yes, to be more specific, we believe she was here in this forest many generations ago. We were sent on behalf of one of her descendants for the purpose of restoring her honor. She was allegedly stripped of it when the nobles of her time set the cost of political failings at her feet, despite great deeds on her part. We understand a being of pure nature such as yourself might have been around in those times and any first-hand accounting would be particularly valuable. To start with, why was she here? Who was she with? A small expedition party? A larger military force?
Enora stops to catch her breath and let the tree respond.
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Trajet refuses to meet Ijo's eyes or respond to his words. Whether out of remorse or resentment, it's hard to tell.
"Hmmm... " rumbles the old blackwood tree, "It is true, I have lived a long life, and I have seen much. But life is meant to be lived today, for today's sake. The past is best left among the leaves on the forest floor, food for worms."
The Ancient One doesn't share your interest or your sense of the importance of these matters. Perhaps you could persuade the old tree to help...
Things that happened in the past matter. The present is ever shaped by it, and we humanoids lead far too erratic of lives to not learn something from it.
She thinks for just a brief moment after and adds...
including the appreciation and protection of woods such as these.
"Master say to know self, must know not self. Who is Honoria Alcasti? Answering this question is a step to light.
Master, I ask to share your light. Light help us to grow inside."
Maskini touches his heart, his head, and then above his head.
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Bobbi lets part of themselves 'melt' briefly before pulling themselves back together.
"I understand how things can change a lot in time, but it is also important to remember the older things, too, right? If we forget that, then we forget that we can burn in anger."
Bobbi gives Trajet a pointed look.
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Enora convinces the old tree to help.
"Very well," the Ancient One accedes in its deep, gravelly voice, "I will grant you this boon, in appreciation for sparing my children."
"I remember Honaria Alcasti and her exploits in the Verduran Forest. She was a commander in the outlanders’ army some years ago, before they split into squabbling nations. She came to round up fugitives in the woods, but she always treated the Wildwood Lodge with respect."
"Honaria led a few score of warriors, but she lost only a handful. Although the campaign took seasons, she was implacable. Eventually her little group wore the fugitives down, like a rock cracking under roots."
"The fugitives were outlanders who Honaria said were stealing from other outlanders.
She said they used to be another part of the same army. The fugitives never gave us any problems, but the conflicts of outlanders are non of my concern."
"Honaria broke the fugitives’ army and captured their leaders. We never heard from them again."
"Many of her fallen enemies were buried in a cave not far from here. Their bones are long gone, but a sword or two might remain. You may search through it if you’d like."
Enora records notes onto a page as the tree speaks. She bows in reverence after the tree finishes fulfilling her request.
We thank you and take our leave now.
At the mouth of the cave she pauses and pulls a motionless firefly out of her belt pouch. She closes her eyes and mouths inaudible spell words as she rubs the firefly into the tip of her quarterstaff. As soon as she ceases this it lights up, making their passage into the cave clear.
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"Please go to the cave. Trajet and Polgrin, you remain here. I would speak with you privately."
The cave is not far from the tree, but without the tree’s directions, you would have had a difficult time finding it, blending into its surroundings as it does. A quick dig reveals a mass grave. Among the remains, you find several split helms and broken swords, each bearing the fox insignia of a unit in the ancient Taldan army.
Although the tree has many fine things to say about Honaria, its testimony alone will not be enough to pass muster in the courts of Oppara. However, the broken equipment of her enemies adds weight to the story, particularly because the unit it belonged to was disbanded for treason.
When you return to the old blackwood tree, the Ancient One bids you farewell. "Heed my words, Pathfinders. In your pursuit of the past, never forget to live in the present, for the future is uncertain."
The druids Trajet and Polgrin lead you back to your boat in silence. Before you embark, Trajet approaches you. She unfastens her cloak and offers it to you. "Please accept this as my apology for my unwarranted hostility. I am sorry."
The long green cloak’s back features an embroidered image of an ancient oak. "This is a treeform cloak. Once per day, you can assume the shape of a tree, just like the tree shape spell, but you can only take the form of a living tree. As long as you stand in the sunlight, your wounds will heal."
At the Sellen River's edge, Firepaw licks your hands, saying goodbye. Trajet and Polgin watch you set sail back to Oppara, tears of confusion, shame and regret on their cheeks.
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Bobbi will nod to the ancient tree.
"Trajet, I was angry and upset like you were once. I had every reason in the world to be angry, and I was very much on the border of becoming mindless...
The druids far to the west of here were patient and understanding and knew that, and let me have one outburst, so I could learn what it was like to be in the thrall of such unreasoning fury.
If anything, I need to apologize to you as well for losing my temper -- I should have tried harder to talk you down, done something more natural... but the tools I have available to do that are limited.
The important thing is to learn from this anger, and grow from it, like all things in nature. Put that anger to good use, aim it well, and let it loose like the seasons until balance is restored, okay?"
Bobbi will drop the pot from their bag, then demonstrate to Trajet and Polgrit so as not to freak out the crew unnecessarily what they have to work with, giving a tendril'd wave as the party heads off back towards civilization.
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Back in Oppara, you return to your rooms, enjoy a hot bath, and celebrate your return to civilization.
The next morning, in addition to his letter, Remaio sends each of you a courtier’s outfit.
Remaio's waiting for you outside the palace with a large velvet bag. "Glad to see I had your measurements correct," he says, looking you over with a critical eye. Satisfied, he starts drawing various items of jewelry out the velvet bag, several pieces for each of you, including signet rings. "A proper courtier would never appear in court without the appropriate accoutrements."
Confident and cheerful, the would-be nobleman says, "All my blood, sweat, and tears have finally paid off. Through a fair amount of gold in the right hands and political favors, I've managed an invitation to the court of Princess Eutropia herself. I'm determined not to let this opportunity go to waste. With the evidence you've collected, I'm certain that Honaria’s name will be cleared, and my family will be reinstated to the nobility."
"Eutropia is holding court inside. If you're ready, let's go. I'll accompany you, of course."
You may already be familiar with Taldor’s progressive princess.
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Ijo wears his courtier's outfit a bit awkwardly. He's not so used to standing on such circumstance.
Eutropia is indeed ambitious but much must change for her to take the thrown as a woman. Ijo toys with the signet ring by flipping it around with his psychic abilities before donning it and making way with the group to the party.
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Ferdrin looks over the letter...
Look your best?!? Oof.. He feels better once the courtier's outfit arrives, until he realizes how ridiculous he looks in it.
Once they meet Remaio, Ferdrin goes to great lengths to describe the troubles they endured to get his desired artifacts and evidence. Ending with, You know, you really should keep up with your relatives better. How could you not know of Yereena's fate! Oh... and sorry for your loss.
Hmm, the Princess has grand ambitious against an entrenched tradition. I like it. She will need allies in these efforts. Perhaps Alcasti can be one when granted his desired nobility.
Ready as I'll ever be, Remaio. He begins to head into the party.
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Bobbi read the letter with a bit of rising bile via a singular pseudopod.
Nowhere was the mention of the various adventures that the Pathfinder Society had performed on behalf of Remaio, and nowhere were any mentions of the various exotic locations that the team had explored on his behalf.
The comment about measurements draws a strange expression from the oozy entity's countenance. The bundle of cloth they've been given seems more formless than the rest, with golden trim accents done in tasteful avian style -- but definitely NOT the golden eagle of Andoran... if anything the 'golden sparrow' of Andoran.
The signet is likewise a 'nice symbolic gesture' but might ring similarly hollow. There is a possibility, however, that Remaio doesn't realize the significance of the Golden Eagles to the former Taldan province OR this is a slight political concession to get the shapeless person some sort of outfit that would 'match'.
With a bit of a nod and respectful thanks Bobbi finds a private spot to change and then rejoins the party, filling out the garment well but not overly so.
"Does it look suitable for the task at hand?" they inquire with a bit of a nervous tone but a polite smile. I have no idea if this is what it's supposed to look like, I hope I didn't mess it up.
However, due to the focus of keeping their form appropriate for the garment and trying not to dissolve into a nervous puddle -- literally in this case -- Bobbi has a hard time recalling anything of importance and fights to keep their own nervousness from becoming infectious.
You're a Pathfinder Society Agent. This is nothing compared to some of the things you've already had to do in the field. Get a grip already!
"You're all looking pretty sharp! We can do this." the oozy person offers after another moment or two of what appears to be some sort of mental struggle.
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Dol puts on the outfit as requested, but makes sure his holy symbol is prominently displayed, and accents the outfit with significant pieces of his cleric's vestements.
One must always look the part
Seeing that Remaio is nervous, he tries to bolster his resolve. "Buck up, lad. Your ancestor was a true hero, and the facts don't lie. Your name will be restored, and you have the Pathfinder Society to thank for recovering the evidence.
Nobody can doubt the intelligence of hiring highly capable, but entirely expendable, resources to do the legwork for you. You are a true noble already and this audience will be a mere formality, I am sure.
Torag's blessing on each of you."
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"I assure you, I have everything under control. Why don't you focus on calming your own nerves, Dol. Everyone just needs to take a few deep breaths and relax." Remaio dismisses the dwarf cleric's concerns.
The would-be nobleman smiles. "You all look absolutely marvelous. Bobbi, your outfit was a particular challenge. I'm pleased with the result."
Let's head inside."
This ancient and grand palace is decorated with ornate arches of patterned stone. Robed greeters bow as the building’s massive iron doors swing open. Light illuminates the hall through dozens of windows in the ceiling. Shining panels of gold decorate the marble walls.
You've arrived before official proceedings begin.
"We have some time, why don't you use the opportunity to converse with other guests, before you're called upon to speak." Remaio looks over the guests and promptly leaves you, heading over to talk to one of the courtiers alone.
Left to your own devices in the opulent court, you do your best to mingle. There are a few people you recognize.
You see Venture-Captain Lady Gloriana Morilla engaged in conversation with Aayef Ghazali, the young man you rescued from the giant scorpion.
You recognize Father Basri, high priest of the Basilica of Aroden.
The regal young woman at the center of the hall can only be Princess Eutropia Stavian.
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Dol looks around, examining the architecture. He gives an appreciative smile at the iron doors, and a disdainful headshake at the gold panels.
Returning from his musing and noticing that Remaio has left, he glances around at his teammates.
"Well, I believe protocol demands that we present ourselves to our host before mingling. Shall we?"
Not waiting for a response, Dol puts on an easy smile and heads over to the Princess.
Stopping at a respectful distance, he bows deeply. "Your Highness, thank you for the invitation into your remarkable palace.
Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Dol, of Clan Stormmaul, priest of the Forgefather. My companions are Bobbi, Ijo Ibn Son, and Ferdrin Ternyth."
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"Well met, strangers," Princess Eutropia gracefully acknowledges your proper deference and observance of protocol. She gives you an appraising look. "You're no noble Taldans, certainly, and likely here to serve some purpose. Why not dispense with pretense, and tell me why you're here."
Behind Eutropia, a member of the Ulfen Guard stands ready to protect the princess from harm.
No more than two arms' length away, an aging nobleman observes your exchange with royalty.
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"That's right, Your Highness, we recently did some genealogical research for Mr. Alcasti.
As a thank you, he helped to arrange our introduction to court. I am sure that Mr. Alcasti will bring his business before Your Highness at the proper time.
We, of course, would be glad to answer any questions you might have for us, but for the moment, we only wanted to introduce ourselves and offer our thanks."
Dol hopes that he has at least piqued the Princess' interest.
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"Pathfinders, eh? Then you must know Lady Gloriana Morilla," Princess Eutropia points, with a subtle movement of her chin, to the Venture-Captain in a corner of the room conversing with Aayef. "Interesting choice of companion, a Qadiran youth, for a noblewoman of Taldor. I'm impressed with her willingness to flaunt convention. That takes a certain type of moral courage, don't you agree? Do all Pathfinders share that virtue"
She looks with interest, when you mention Remaio. "Ah, the Alcasti matter. So he employed you to restore his family name, did he? Why would he entrust such an important task to you, strangers to him and to Taldor?" The princess continues probing questions. "More to the point, what do you think of the would-be nobleman?"
She smiles, regal, awaiting your reply.
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Bobbi, who was busy trying to figure out who to talk to but kind of dragged along with the rest of the team for 'presentation' to the Princess is at a loss for words for a few moments before giving a polite curtsey.
"Bobbi Libertas, miss." they offer for a hopeful way of addressing the bigwig properly. Why did we go here first? There's some nice shadows and plants along the wall that would work just fine!
"I suspect that he had concerns that were involved with all the noble stuff. Please forgive, I'm from Andoran, and we don't hold to a lot of these formalities under typical conditions."
There's a bit of a pause as Bobbi parses the second question, then glances around warily to see who is within earshot before quietly mentioning "Andoran got rid of its' nobility because they were too focused on social graces and not paying attention to the needs of the state. Too much family interest and not enough in the welfare of an entire nation is bad for any nation, wouldn't you agree? That being said, Honaria did get a rotten deal."
With a bit more loud tone -- but not obnoxiously so -- Bobbi does a slight flourish with the gown. "He was certain to get me this charming piece, after all." they offer with a smile.
"To go back to your question about moral courage, miss? It's being able to know when a thing is right and when it is wrong and when someone needs to say or do something about it. Get too tied up in the details and... bad things happen as you forget the important things."
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As Lady Morilla has no doubt been paying careful attention to the conversation, and would have noticed the attention turned toward her, Dol offers a smile and a nod in her direction.
"Of course, the Lady Morilla is our superior. We are acquainted with her and will need to report in soon, I imagine. The boy, Aayef, is a bright and forthright young lad. He got caught up in some of our investigations.
Bringing a Qadiran to court in Taldor is quite unusual, I agree, but I imagine the Lady thinks he might provide useful information.
As for courage, I find it takes little courage to do what is right when those in charge make just laws and follow those laws. It is when the law differs from what is right that strife occurs. At those times, I personally would have no hesitation to stand up for what is right.
Your question, though. Do ALL Pathfinders hold to this ideal. Pathfinders are people, Your Highness, and have all the same failings as people in general. I would like to think that most keep the greater good in their hearts, but I can't honestly say that all Pathfinders display such moral courage.
Then, there is the case of Mr. Alcasti. We don't know the man overly well. Most of our communication has been in writing. He has shown intelligence in hiring specialists to go into dangerous situations to retrieve valuable information. He has shown drive, and a desire to right past wrongs, and has shown Wisdom by not constraining our research to only retrieving thise facts which suit his agenda.
Is he perfect? Of course not, but he seems reliable and has the benefit of Truth behind his claims."
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Princess nods almost imperceptibly at Bobbi; she got your message.
"I assure you, Bobbi, this 'noble stuff' is a bit more nuanced than just one's choice of attire for the day," the princess says, taking no apparent offense at the bold, blunt declaration of political views. "Andoran was once a prosperous province of the Empire. It's recent experiment with a democratic government has been an interesting case study. I'll need more data, before I pronounce judgment on its effectiveness."
Princess Eutropia turns to the arcanist and the dwarf. She raises one elegant dark eyebrow. "I have found in politics and in the law, 'right' is shaped by the perspective and interests of the powerful, be they nobles or the populist mobs, and only rarely by morality. Just ask those in Cheliax or Galt, Rahadoum or Nidal."
She sighs, glancing pointedly at Dominicus Rell, standing a few feet away, and at Inka Heldotor, the Ulfen Guard behind her. [b]"If I have any hope of winning the throne here in Taldor, I must find a way to make inroads with those two. They would be future assets in her bid for the throne.
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Hmm, either she's putting us off or thinks us capable enough to gain her these allies...
Ferdrin looks at Ijo and Dol, then over to Inka. He nods and heads towards her, presuming that at least one other will follow as backup.
He casually approaches Inka Heldotor. This wouldn't be what he thinks of as the "easy" task, but he figures the rougher parts of the crowd need more time for "social warming."
Greetings, Lady Inka. You seem more... capable than many of the other nobles gathered here. I can hardly believe you would need anything from this crowd, no?
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Bobbi was watching the party all start to head over to the Ulfen and realized that piling on a hardened warrior -- or even one that appeared to be hardened -- was probably not the best idea.
Instead, with a somewhat uncanny fluid grace they made their way over to Father Basri, fighting the urge to shudder. We're not in the basement. We're not facing ratfolk. It wasn't his fault. We can do this.
"Oh, hello there Father! How is the collection doing? Have you made any progress on getting more assistance for the Cathedral? It's an amazing place full of history, isn't it?" they offer hopefully and helpfully when a good conversational window opens up.
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Ijo, Ferdrin and Dol approach the Ulfen Guard. Inka Heldotor takes your measure, ice-crystal-blue eyes assessing your strength and your prowess as potential threat. Concluding you're unarmed and no match for her in fisticuffs, she signals for another member of the Ulfen Guard to take over.
"Well met, strangers," she says in a gravelly voice, worn from a life-time of issuing orders over the din of battle. She nods at Dol's warrior-like greeting. "I need some ale. Though I doubt such common drink can be found in Euphoria's court," Inka comments, as she heads to the open bar. "You have something on your minds?" the Ulfen asks.
Her alert gaze constantly scans the assembled nobles and checks the positions of the bodyguard detail. "I take my duties seriously, but I've no interest in politics. Frankly, this duty will kill me with boredom, surer than a linnorm's maw."
The bartender has no ale, but there's ample honeyed mead for those with an intolerance for the exotic fine wines, and no taste for the sweet liqueurs.
"Say, why don't you amuse me with tales of your heroic exploits. Unless, one of you thinks you can impress me with feat of strength?" She doubts you can do either, but there's a glimmer of hope in her clear, sparkling eyes.
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When Bobbi approaches the high priest of Aroden, the tired and broken man offers a wan but friendly smile. "Hello again, my child. I am fine, thank you, though there's little enough interest among these fine folk in a priest of a dead god or the history of his faith."
Father Basri regards the crowd of courtiers, men-at-arms, and servants. "Nowadays, the people of all stations indulge their baser instincts, pursue immediate but fleeting pleasure, little different than animals; self-indulgent narcissism is their creed. Indeed, sometimes I wonder if a priest's calling isn't more animal husbandry than spiritual guide. The gods might as well be dead. It's quite sad, really."
Father Basri sighs, "To be honest, I've little interest in anything beyond my church. But a presence at Court ensures the people can't forget we're here, even if our god is absent."
He smiles again, "Thanks to you and your friends, the Basilica's collection is safe once again, and our restoration work continues apace. But what, pray tell, brings you to the Stavian court today?"
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"Well, I wasn't there for the dragon hoard, though the little I heard did sound impressive.
I was travelling with the crew when we rescued a talking sword from the clutches of a giant, poisonous arthropod. Ijo here nearly got sliced in half by the beast's pincers."
In between swallows of mead, Dol launches into a tale of the battle with the scorpion, doing his dwarven best to embellish the details.
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"Father, you'll probably be asked questions about the bust, the important history behind it, and possibly even the character of the person who wanted it recovered. Honesty is always the best policy, yes?" Bobbi inquires gently, hopefully reminding the man of faith of the particulars of the recovery, and how the effort to recover it and other items vital to the Cathedral transpired.
"Most importantly, remember at what level of commitment our team was at, risking life and limb to make sure that your house of worship was secured well -- and what our employer was up to during said time as well. I cannot going to promise huge piles of gold that I may never see to help upkeep the Cathedral. That would be dishonest and you're much better than some mercenary -- you have the history of Aroden to keep alive. Others here though may have those resources, and I am at least willing to speak to them on behalf of the historical and symbolic significance of your work?"
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Slamming down her mug with a force unaccustomed to the exquisite bar, the Ulfen woman throws back her head in a belly laugh. "You spin a tail like a milkmaid, and display the strength of one as well. But, by the gods, you make me laugh with your ineptitude and bald lies." She wipes the tears from her eyes. "Larry, Curly, and Mo, I will call you."
"Come on then, dwarf, human. Why don't one of you arm wrestle me, while your half-orc friend rubs a little scented tiger balm over his strained groin muscle." She looses another belly laugh at her own jest. Then she puts her elbow on the bar, ready to put a smack-down on first of you to accept her challenge.
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"I will help you, Pathfinder. The artifacts are all we have to hold onto, worshipping a dead god. I can speak to your character and that of your colleagues. As to your employer, well, I imagine it will take more than an antiquated bust to convince anyone of his character. You'll need the support of as many as possible among those present at Court today"
The priest looks down at the back of his hand, flicking away a smudge. "If his browbeating of Brother Valicus is any indication, perhaps he is descended from nobles. Worthy of the claim, though? I'll leave that judgment to the Crown. Good luck, in any case."
Before you leave, Father Basri places hand upon your, em, brow. "May Aroden bless you and keep you. May his face shine upon the proceedings of the Court this day. Amen."
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The Ulfen woman's grip nearly crushes Dol's hand. She stares into the dwarf's eyes and hisses "Go!"
The strain of the struggle lasts only a second or two, but it nigh snaps the cleric's wrist.
"Well done, dwarf! That took longer than I thought."
She smiles at Ferdrin, displaying a chipped bicuspid, broken in battle or a drunken brawl, no doubt. "Well, fellow human. Do you have the stones to test your metal?" She howls with laughter at what must be a pun in her native Skald.
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"Ah, Curly, you had to go and remind me of home, didn't you." Inka Heldotor gets a wistful look in eye. "Winter solstice in the longhouse. Families gathered round the metal pole." She signals the sommelier, "More honeyed mead for self and these strangers." The man sniffs, but reaches under the bar for her order, pouring the glasses out of sight of the wine-sipping nobles. When everyone has their beverage, the Ulfen raises her glass. "Festivus for the rest of us!"
"Well this was fun, but I better see to my guard detail." She strides away.
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"Thank you, Father. May Aroden return and reward yourr faithful vigilance. Amen." Bobbi offers politey and hopefully not too out of tone with the patriarch's blessing.
Bobbi waits for the crowd to disperse around Inka then reconsiders as she goes back 'on duty' for a bit. I'll come back to her in a little bit. Let's see what else I can do to help.
The be-gowned fluid entity makes their way over to Theoh and gives a polite smile.
"Mister Cenbari, it is hoped that at long last Italice has been put to proper rest?" they begin hopefully, "I was part of the team that helped recover them and bring them home."