Despite their green status, a group of fledgling Pathfinders have landed a coveted tour on the crew of Venture-Captain Calisro Benarry’s ship the Grinning Pixie, also known as the Arcadian Mariner’s Lodge. The merchant-ship-cum-Pathfinder-Lodge has been sailing towards the northwestern coast of Avistan for the past few days as the Pathfinders are given a chance to settle in to their bunks. The weather is clear, the sailing is smooth, and no doubt adventure awaits!
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Morning found the young woman up early, making her bunk, crisp corners, nary a wrinkle in site. Her spellbook, journal, and pencils from the previous night packed up in her backpack again. All in its place.
Making one last check on her clothes. Layers always seemed best. The visible ones being mostly a deep indigo, the next being forest green peaking out here and there. Her mid length hair brushed out neat and tidy, then tied back to be out of the way. Taking a deep breath, she was ready.
"Good morning Captain"
"Niome, sir. Niome Desertwillow. Yes, thank you for remembering."
"It's the name of a tree from where I was born."
"Yes sir, thank you for your time."
Meaningless chit chat that the captain and occasional crew member were kind enough to engage in.
Being on a ship was not that much fun really. She had assumed it would be spectacular, and in some ways it was. Beautiful crystal clear views but the same all the time. Interesting grizzled people but they were always busy while you, as a passenger, was never ever busy. So on so on.
Maybe, she should talk to her fellow pathfinders to pass the time?
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Since the very first moment he set foot aboard the Grinning Pixie, Arthur went out of his way to draw attention to himself. His elegant poise is matched by a haughty attitude which immediately reveals his noble status. His bravado and egotism make him look like a fanatic in search of the thrill of the adventure. At first, he may be judged as a rich, very rich fool who believes himself to be the center of the world. At a less cursory glance, he will seem a young lordling with a quite high picture of himself and a shiny rapier dangling on his hip. At a third look, he will look like a philanderer, and will probably return your look with a cunning and supposed-to-be-charming blink, provided you're a woman; otherwise, he will look at you with a sense of challenge in his eyes, as though inviting you to test your skills against him.
To be honest, you will need a lot of looks in order to catch a glimpse of something positive in Sir Arthur Ockham, Lord of Westex, Taldor, Confirmed Pathfinder Field Agent, Master of the Fallen Fortress, or whatever other titles he will introduce himself with to you. It won't be easy, it won't be fun. But in the end, if you have a pitch of subtlety, you will see the intelligent spark in his eyes. The insecurity of his lips. The courage in his eyes. The camaraderie in his smile. And the true nobility of his heart, if you're the type of person who likes to look inside the others.
The man with the gold blonde hair is instantly recognizable as a Chelaxian. If his coat in black and crimson isn't obvious enough, his aloof introduction is. "You may have heard of me already, or perhaps not." He makes out not to care either way, but there's a bit of pride anyway. "I am Till Ochtar Ulvauno. An actor, looking for inspiration for my next plays. They feature a daring adventurer, played by yours truly: Sir Edmond of Estelbury." He pauses slightly for dramatic effect. "My management has called in some favors with the Pathfinder Society and they've arranged for me to be added to your eclectic... - what's the word - troupe...? band...? - group for this mission. There's nothing like seeing what actual adventurers such as yourself are like. In the wild, if you know what I mean. Now don't be alarmed, I won't get in the way and will just study to see what you're doing, from the background." His air makes it quite uncertain that he'll stick to that promise, but it's all that he'll say on the matter. "Yes, certainly. This was all cleared with your... your... Venture-Captains."
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Indeed, over the next few days on the boat, Till mostly watches the others, studying their mannerisms and asking them the occasional questions about their exploits so far. He seems to enjoy goading Lord Ockham into conversation, asking what it's like to be a confirmed field agent, what such a person would do to prepare himself for his next adventure and not get himself killed, and - with a snide tongue - whether it's really worth it to be master of a fallen fortress. He plays the role of loyal Chelaxian with gusto, and naturally feels like he has to butt heads with the snobbish Taldan nobleman. Still, he's a good enough judge of character to see past the facade, and he gradually comes to respect the Lord of Westex. We all have our reasons to keep the curtains closed, don't we? The verbal jabs lose their edge and take on a more playful tone after that.
Till stays mostly clear of Niome the first few days, at least until she takes the initiative. His image prescribes that he ought to act like a buffoon around any moderately attractive woman, but he doesn't really feel like behaving that way around the young and meticulous girl.
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The Irriseni woman named Arisha dresses in vibrant colors and wears a red and white lacquered suit of leather armor. However, despite the bright clothing and striking face, it is almost impossible to keep track of the woman. In fact, if you are alone when she approaches you, it is literally impossible to see her coming, and she disappears from view with preternatural speed and stealth when done with you.
The ship's cook is almost convinced that she is a ghost as he never sees her except when she appears for mess. In the galley (with the exception of the cook), at the bunks, and actively engaged in conversation with someone are almost the only times anyone can reliably remember seeing her before she is right beside them.
Till finds it almost impossible to catch her. When he does corner her, she slips away without a trace before he can finish his question.
Arisha appears suddenly, leaning on the railing next to Niome. "Beautiful colors, no? I can almost smell the snow on the winds coming down from the north. You should come on deck at night. The stars are simply stunning," she says with a beatific smile and a sigh.
One day, while Arthur is strutting upon the deck, Arisha appears right in front of his nose. "You do draw an awful lot of attention to yourself, do you not?" she comments and then disappears before he can fully realize her presence.
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Niome gave a soft smile back, "Is that what that smell is?" she bit back a teasing comment about the smells of unwashed sailors congregating anytime her lovely fellow pathfinder showed up.
The first several times Arisha suddenly appeared beside her, Niomi jumped like a little mouse faced with a bored cat. Now she still has that effect on her but Niome has managed to only squeak internally in surprise instead of announcing it to the world.
"Do you like it?" Niome held up her journal. She's been drawing to pass the time and has captured what she believes is the essence of sea travel. A light clear blue over a dark glassy blue. "I call it boredom."
------
So far she has found Till Ochtar Ulvauno and Lord Ockham quite intimidating. A small village didn't see many nobles or famous actors. A few days of them though has worn the natural awe away to polite deference. They seemed nice. At least when they weren't acting like a couple of male crickets loudly courting for mates. Except not for mates. At least not all the time.
In essence she simply did not know what to make of them yet.
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"The colors are quite lovely," Arisha acknowledges the work's inherent beauty. "You've captured some of the sea's mercurial nature in the way you've blended you colors--probably without realizing it--but there is much more than boredom."
Her lips curl impishly. "Especially if you make an effort to find it."
After a pause, she asks, "You were named after a tree from your homeland? Where is that?" Niome can be almost certain that Arusha was nowhere near her when the Captained asked about that. Was she? Wasn't she?
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Niome sighed, about the boredom and not really knowing if she was being complemented or teased. She inclined her head in thanks anyway, deciding it was fine if it was either... or both. Conversation was so much better than staring at the endless blue.
She does manage not to stiffen at the mention of her homeland. More from the memories instead of the unknown or not ease dropping. She was getting used to that part at least. "Sorry," she apologizes about her pause, "Osirion. And you?"
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The short, stocky half-orc teenager is quick to introduce herself to everyone who seems willing to talk to her as Aggie, although giving Ulvauno and Ockham some berth, not seeming entirely comfortable with them. She clanks along merrily in a suit of battered scale mail, a falchion strapped to her back. Trotting along after her is a strangely shimmering black goat, its coat showing a multitude of white spots - like stars.
However, more than the people she is fascinated by the sea and the sprawling, magnificent sky that stretches on forever over top. She has spent a good deal of time simply staring at the sky with a distant expression on her face.
----
At this time she is bored though, and she makes her way to Niome and Arisha. "Were you talking about stars? I can't believe how much sky we can see from here. Maybe I should take up sailing. Anyways, you can get a wonderful view of The Dancer on the west horizon."
MYHEEHH
Aggie looks irritably over to her little goat. "Hush."
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"Irrisen. Quite the opposite of Osirion," Arisha says as the half-orc approaches. She turns to the young shaman and smiles. "The beauty all around, including the stars, was the topic of discussion before we turned to the subject of home."
The enigmatic woman looks over at the goat with an amused smile.
Till is quite intrigued with the Ulfen woman who keeps springing up on him - and on others, he's found. Despite himself, he finds that he sometimes swivels his head suddenly in hopes of catching a glimpse of her. He's caught word that she's from Irrisen, which adds to the mystery Don't they have witches there, wielding powerful magic? Is that how she does it?
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The Chelaxian actor isn't shy about approaching Aggie. "So, your armor has seen its fair share of battle, hasn't it?" he asks as he pokes at her battered scale mail. "What great foes has this suit withstood already? Any stories you could tell, that I could pull inspiration from?" He puffs himself up slightly. "Think of it - I could eternalize your pursuits, for the benefit and amusement of the people of Absalom." He doesn't mention that she'll never receive an ounce of credit of course, but he at least seems sincere in his interest of hearing stories.
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"Good Morning Aggie." Niome greets her warmly. She had always assumed half-orcs would be brutish, having never met one before and relying only on stories. But happily the world, and people like Aggie, have taught her differently. People are people no matter their beginnings.
She was going to try and steer the topic back to stars before Till interjects with questions about armor. Niome will politely nod to the man and go silent.
She will scratch Aggie's goat behind the ears, if he will allow her to. Her own familiar, a rather plump but pretty thrush, prefers to stay in the cabin. He's afraid the winds are too strong and he'll be pulled away to sea.
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Aggie smiles at Niome. "Morning!" she says brightly before turning to Till. She seems a little shyer as she tries to think of a story for him. "Well I was telling my Truths on the street when a bunch of goons tried to knock over a market stall and make off with the jewelery. I told them to stop, they didn't, so blam! I hit them with a color spray. You see - when you look to the night sky, there are colours out there too far for us to see, so they just look black. Well they saw those colours - knocked 'em silly!"
She frowns. "Not much of an epic tale though. Ahh... let me think."
Aggie's goat allows herself to be petted, and seems to enjoy the attention. She bleats quietly. Her black coat shimmers strangely - the starry pattern on its fur shifting slowly as the ship tacks.
Till is amused by Aggie's story. He gives a hearty laughs and slaps her on the shoulder. "Well deserved for them, I say!" He then decides he should show some more interest in the women, if he is to travel with them for a while. Besides, being the boorish Chelaxian starts grating on his nerves sometimes. He looks out over the water and hopes to twist his questions into professional interest. "So, the night sky and colors we can't see. A starry goat and a star-struck girl from Osirion... What is it with adventurers and the stars? Just trying to get Desna to bless them, what with all the danger they're in? Or is there more to it?"
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"Star struck girl from Osirion? Is he talking about me? He has to be talking about me!" she thinks quickly. Annoyed at being called that wars with being deeply embarrassed she's coming across as star struck.
To the goat she'll say quietly I think there is as little to the question as there is to the answer. I'm sorry to say. Till does seem to be trying... well something, she is unsure what. It all seems... thin though.
Niome looks up at the golden haired man, pushing away her feelings to ask calmly, What do you think the answer is, sir? interested to see if there is more to this person that what keeps gushing out.
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Aggie interjects, quite excited by Till's question. "There's always more too it - more than the Dreamer, and more than the Gods themselves. The Heavens speak to us, and they tell us Truths about the world. Our follies, our strengths, our past, our future. Here... look- look!"
She waves her goat over. Aggie breathes out softly, and her eyes black over. The faint starry pattern on the goat's hide begins to shine out, showing the constellations of the night sky. A soft glow begins to emanate from the goat, and it slowly levitates from the ground. She places a hand over a constellation on its hide that somebody could maybe mistake for a mounted horse. Her voice takes on a strange tone.
"The Rider Ascends, and with it we travel into intrigue and danger. Ware your selves!"
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Till cannot recall when she did it--sometime when he was focused on Aggie--or where she went, but to him Arisha has vanished. To the other women, the Irriseni woman continues to lean on the railing. She divides her attention between the conversation and the sparkling blue ocean.
The enigma nods quietly in response to Aggie's prophecy, a solemn expression momentarily replacing her impishly amused smile.
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Arthur rises his eyes and slowly observes his interlocutor. A woman. That is already enough for Arthur to pay attention. “Of course I do, milady! I’m the famous Lord Arthur Ockham, Pathfinder Field Agent and Master of the Fallen Fortress”. Arthur makes a smirk, but it is all too clear from his expression that he’s not really, or not simply, putting on airs. There’s a vein of self-mockery in his words. “And yo…Hey, wait!” When the girl suddenly disappears, Arthur grins, quite annoyed. Then his grins turns into a mischievous smile. If she’s going to be one of my next companions, this is going to be fun…
***
Arthur spends most of the time he does not spend in drawing attention to himself with Till. Accidentally, he finds himself involved in a conversation with an half-orc and a possibly Garundi woman. He was not really paying attention to the conversation before, too busy darting some flirting looks to a nice-looking woman on the decks. When the woman kisses her man, Arthur sighs, smiles and chimes in. “Quite the deep moments here, eh? Well, let me say that no God ever watched my back out there on the field. I had to endure a lot of hard tests, but always managed to emerge victorious thanks to my skills and wits. But I suppose you’re the type of person who will say that even those who don’t know are like tools in the hands of the Gods. That’s…I mean, that’s a rather common thing to say, isn’t it?” Arthur realizes his speech is going to offend someone very quickly, and tries to steer the conversation away from the topic he got himself into. “Anyway, you seem quite the contrary of common people to me. What brings you here? For my part, I’m a Pathfinder field agent. I’m going to embark in an adventure very soon”.
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"You're saying that you're a self-made man?" Arisha teases Arthur. Till can hear her voice, but where is she hiding?
"You are very good at pointing out obvious things." Focused as she is on clouding Till's mind, Arthur can see the Irriseni as clearly as the other women. The sea breeze ruffles her pale hair and the hem of her particolored skirt.
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Her own question to Till completely forgotten, Niome's eyes spark in interest at Aggie's display of magic. One does not see levitating goats everyday.
Maybe that is why she gives Aggie's prophecy more weight than most. She's just about to ask for more details, when she's startled by Arthur's words. She knew he was near, just not that he cared a wit about what they were talking about.
Quickly after Arisha's teasing, she speaks up "Lord Ockham, we're your fellow pathfinders. Off to the same mission I believe." she helpfully points out each of them, providing their names, pronounced carefully and hopefully correctly. Missing their one, she adds, "Noam, as well but... I don't see him on deck anywhere."
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A pale half-orc in drab and dark leathers milled about the ship, while not the master of not actually being just outside the corner of your eye like Arisha was his general lethargy as opposed to the actors and performers made him always stay a few paces away from the energy. Until he got a chance to talk with his future teammates he contented himself with trying to offer aid to any employee of the Pixie he crossed.
"Do you need anything?"
"Here let me hold that."
"Anything needs being done?"
"Need anything?"
"... sure?"
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"Good morning!" Niome greets him. To the others, if any of them other than Arthur hasn't met him, she'll introduce him "This is Noam, the last member of our group, I believe." she'll hold her hand out to him, after shifting her journal to her other one. "Niome Desertwillow. I'm a mage. I guess that is good to know. If you didn't know already." Nervousness showing through the politeness just a bit.
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The next day, with the Pathfinders all settled in, there's a knock at each of their doors. A gruff female voice - the captain's - calls out, “Hey you lot! Meet me in my cabin in five.” It's easy enough to find, and the Pathfinders enter, closing the door behind them.
Muscular and imposing in a green-dyed longcoat, tunic, and puffed trousers, the half-orc Venture-Captain Calisro Benarry kicks out a chair for herself from under the massive oak table at the center of her well-furnished cabin and sits down. “Welcome to the Pixie, Pathfinders. Enjoy your tour while it lasts, ‘cause by Sunday night you’ll be off the boat.
“We’re a day’s sail from a rendezvous with a Pezzacki whaler, the Patience, which has permits to cross the Chelish blockade to fish. That town’s been locked down since the people upended the empire’s government five years ago, and those permits are hard to come by. We’d teleport you into Pezzack if the damned devilfolk didn’t have the place blanketed with spies, so instead we’ll throw you into the hold with the Patience’s catch. Which is good for you, trust me, because nobody in that town smells any better than you will.”
Calisro leans forward, and whispers gruffly, “You’ll be dropped off to my contact at the Academy of Applied Magic, professor Kalizandrex Poppo. He got a coded message to us, and I've got it around here somewhere if you’d like to take a look. He’ll help you track down a trapped Pathfinder named Olandil,who’s been stuck there for five years—your job’s to get him out. Be careful who you talk to, though, and how you ask questions. That place is more volatile than Gorum on a bender, and the more you poke around, the more likely you’ll be the next to burn it down.”
The venture captain pulls a sheaf of nautical charts out of a case at her hip and unfurls them on the table. “As for getting you out of the town, I know a thing or two about the sailing patterns of the ships around here. The Pixie can pick around the coast north of here for a week before Abrogail’s folk come asking questions.” The venture-captain smirks as she continues, “In case you hadn’t noticed, the Pixie, well, she looks an awful lot like a pirate vessel, and the Chelish navy doesn’t exactly welcome pirates with open arms. You’d better get back here by then. Any questions?”
You also know some things about the various factions in Pezzack:
Docktown: Representing the stranded merchants in Fat Harbor, the tiefling “mayor” Bruck wants economic dominance over Pezzack—a greedy oligarchy made easier by the town’s well-honed smugglers and perpetual unrest.
Galtans: Violent revolutionaries fronted by the grey gardener Habar Curl, Pezzack’s pack of Galtan rebels want the town’s freedom to spring from the blood of dead Loyalists—and anyone who might be aligned with them.
Loyalists: Pezzacki still loyal to the Chelish crown believe there can be no peace until rulership of the city is returned to its diabolical masters.
White Thistles: These idealists led by Amalia Wraxton want a unified, free Pezzack and hope to win over the other factions’ hearts and minds through verse and acts of derring-do.
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Niome will sit and listen patiently, as well as listening to Arisha and the other's questions since she knows little about the area. To her, Cheliax is a series of horror stories of devils roaming the streets and an unhealthy obsession of something called opera.
When the questions run their course, she'll ask "What does Professor Poppo look like? Just in case."
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With her short but prophetic speech finished, Aggie's eyes return to their normal brown and her goat ceases glowing and levitating. She blinks as she realizes some people are staring, others have moved on. Lord Okham's braggadocio completely throws Aggie off.
"Hi, I'm Aggie," she says politely but without making much eye contact.
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Excited at being woken up for news of her first mission with the Pathfinders, Aggie hurriedly dons her armour before quietly arguing with Aratare to get the goat moving. She listens to the briefing with wide-eyed amazement.
"Wow! This sounds... complicated. What's Olandil trapped by?"
As they are talking on deck, Till suddenly swivels his head from left to right. "By Asmodeus's horned..." He doesn't finish the curse, but rather spend more time looking left and right. "The Ulfen woman. She was just here, wasn't she?" He leaves the group looking for her, eager for an excuse to get away from Niome's earlier question.
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Till hangs back during the Venture-Captain's briefing, studying the other Pathfinders present. When Aggie asks her question he naturally interjects before Calisro Benarry can even answer. "The Chelish Navy, of course. As your Venture-Captain said, these people tried to upended empire's government some years ago." He looks scandalized, thoroughly used to what he should be saying in situations like these. "The place is a hotbed of anarchy and vying factions. If left unchecked, they would fight until there's nothing left for them to fight over. Luckily, Cheliax takes care of its people and makes sure it doesn't come that far. Miss Arisha seems to have some knowledge of the situation and the parties involved as well, but it seems wise to know what you'll be getting into:" He puts up four fingers, counting them off. "You have the idealist White Thistles, oblivious fools. Then there's Galtan spies, anarchists and even worse than the Thistles." He makes a spitting motion. "There's the people of Docktown who would just like to leave their life and build their business. And finally the Loyalists, who do what they can to see that the town stays at peace."
He leans back into his chair again now that he's shared what he knows. "But I'll leave you to your planning..." This takes all of two seconds before he leans forward again. "Now, I'm just here to observe, as you know, but you must all appreciate how this could put me in a difficult position. My loyalty to the empire comes first, of course. But I suppose, if this Pathfinder wants to leave Pezzack, the town will probably be better off without him. He must have just been biding his time, or he would have been caught already." He states this as a fact. "Since he hasn't performed any crimes against the empire and Pezzack will be better off without him, I see no reason to obstruct this mission of yours."
He leans back again, then immediately pushes forward once more. "Just out of curiosity. This Professor Poppo... Do we know where his allegiance lies?"
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"Oh, no, no,no," Arisha says with a disapproving scowl mixed with an unsettling impishness, "If you are a Pathfinder, you allegiance to the Pathfinders comes first. Explore, repoert, cooperate. I would hate to accidentally leave you tied up in the belly of the whaler."
She turns her attention back to Captain Benarry.
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Arthur is quite surprised when he realizes who his next companions are going to be. Mph, quite interesting...
The young Taldan lord listen with attention to the briefing of the half-orc captain. Looks can be deceiving. That's a lesson he learned long ago.
When the Venture-Captain has completed his speech, Arthur listens to Till and nods at the information he gives. "Sure, sure", he frequently says along with a nod, as though the man's words were bringing back memories that his brain had already elaborated in the past. Then he takes the stage. He clears his throat and speaks aloud. "There's something else, fellow Pathfinders. Thank you for the information you shared with us, Till, they helped me to recall something I heard not so long ago, when I was...Well, let's just say that I know something more from a trustful source". The Taldan takes a sip from his drink and ensues. He stands up and walks back and forth as he explains. "The naval blockade is particularly effective at hindering trade in Pezzack because overland trade out of the town is nearly impossible. A race of birdlike humanoids known as strix control the mountains, and their hatred for humans makes them a constant threat to the city. I guess they have their reasons to hate humans, anyway..."
Arthur shrugs. "And I also know something else. I have more information about each faction, indeed. Let's start with Docktown. The mayor of Pezzack, if we can call it like this, wants to achieve economic dominance over the city. He's a tiefling named Bruck, a greedy oligarch from whom I believe we should stay away."
Arthur sits down and sighs. He's quite melodramatic in his way of sharing the information. "Oh, then we have the Galtans. Revolutionary folk, violent folk. They want to earn the freedom of Pezzack with the blood of the Loyalists...and whoever is so reckless to be aligned with them. As for the Loyalists, in turn, they're what the name suggests. Pezzacki citiens still loyal to the crown. They believe there will be no peace until the city returns in the hands of the Thrune...".
Unable to stay still, Arthur stands up again. "Finally, the White Thistles. Curious name, isn't it? I know they are idealists as Till said, but also remember the name of their leader. Amalia Wraxton. She wants a free Pezzack, and hopes to win over the other factions' heart and minds through verse and acts of derring-do. She and her group have my sympathy, for what is worth...I wonder if she's single..."
"Do we know which of the four factions have Olandil, or is he just unable to convince a whaler to take him on as crew?" Arisha asks the Captain, with just enough deference in her tone to sound appropriate.
Venture-Captain Bennary shakes her head in answer to Arisha’s question. “We just know that he’s stuck in the city since the empire locked it down - it’s your job to find him. Poppo managed to get us a message from him, hold on.” Calisro checks the pockets of her longcoat, producing and carefully handling a rough-worn scrap of paper. “‘Many faces fail to find the path. Send the worthless ones my last request for a vacation.’ There’s something else, too, but I can’t tell if it’s code or a diversion: ‘Noodles, the high form of poetry, point all slave masters to my lost memory,’” she quotes. “Do with that what you will, I suppose.”
When the questions run their course, she'll ask "What does Professor Poppo look like? Just in case."
“He’s a gnome - dark skin, big beard. Last I saw, the beard was a fetching shade of green,” she answers with a toothy smile that emphasizes her tusks.
"Wow! This sounds... complicated. What's Olandil trapped by?"
The Venture-Captain nods towards the knowledgeable Chelish actor and Taldan Lord. “Ulvauno and Ockham here have the gist of it. The Chelish naval blockade has the water exit locked down. And Olandil can’t get away overland, since the path is blocked by mountains where the strix live, and they’re none too happy to let a human pass through without a fight.”
He leans back into his chair again now that he's shared what he knows. "But I'll leave you to your planning..." This takes all of two seconds before he leans forward again. "Now, I'm just here to observe, as you know, but you must all appreciate how this could put me in a difficult position. My loyalty to the empire comes first, of course. But I suppose, if this Pathfinder wants to leave Pezzack, the town will probably be better off without him. He must have just been biding his time, or he would have been caught already." He states this as a fact. "Since he hasn't performed any crimes against the empire and Pezzack will be better off without him, I see no reason to obstruct this mission of yours."
He leans back again, then immediately pushes forward once more. "Just out of curiosity. This Professor Poppo... Do we know where his allegiance lies?"
The Venture-Captain narrows her eyes at Till. “Crimes or not, your mission as a Pathfinder is to find Olandil and get him out. That is, of course, illegal in the empire’s eyes. If you can’t reconcile that with your other allegiances, I suggest you pass on this particular venture, Ulvauno,” she warns, pointing a stern finger at him. “As for Poppo, we know we can trust him. He should be able to help you find Olandil.”
“Now!” Venture-Captain Bennary declares, clasping her hands together. “Unless you have any more questions, you should all get prepared to leave. One thing to note - coin is just about worthless in Pezzack these days. With the blockade, people don’t have many avenues to trade with the outside world. They need food, supplies, et cetera, so just about everyone deals in trade goods. Go see the quartermaster, she’ll be able to help you exchange your gold for something you can actually spend. The Pixie is fully stocked, too, if you need any other supplies.”
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Arthur blinks at Till. He makes a weird smirk, then shrugs. His strange set of moves is supposed to suggest the idea: what can we do if we were gifted with such wonderful feats from the Gods?
After that, the Pathfinder turns to seriously listen the interactions between the Venture-Captain and his fellow agents. His interest is particularly aroused when the half-orc points his finger at Ulvauno. "Ho sir! Slow down! I'm sure this was just a trivial misunderstading. Indeed, I'm absolutely sure that my friend Ulvauno, here, was just trying to remind us about our duties as Pathfinders. Because as Pathfinders, our loyalty should go to the Society, isn't it?" Arthur has a pleasant smile on his lips, and his tone his joyful. When he briefly turns to Till, turning his back on the Venture-Captain, the Taldan throws an admonishing look at his Chelaxian companion. "Of course the will not to causa any damage to one's homeland is perfectly understandable, sir..."
Well, now you own me one, Ulvauno!
With no more questions to ask, Arthur crosses his arms across his chest. "As far as I'm concerned, dear companions, I'm good to go."
Till's ears perk up as he hears Lord Ockham expand on his own knowledge regarding the current affairs in Pezzack. He seems especially surprised to hear the name of Amalia Wraxton, but that might just be coincidence. Still, he gives Arthur another scrutinizing look, trying to figure out where the Taldan nobleman would have gotten such detailed knowledge.
When he is called out by Arisha on his allegiance, he is about to take the offense and give her a sarcastic remark. He's been very careful so far to cultivate the idea that he only joined the Pathfinders 'pro forma', as a way to interact with and study other adventurers in the wild, to draw upon while acting in stage. Still, the Ulfen woman is backed up by the formidable half-orc captain, whom he can't cut off. Lord Ockham surprises him once more by speaking in his defense and he gives a - slightly overacted - bow to acknowledge the support. He holds up his hands as if relenting. "Very well, very well... If it pleases you, I will take on the costume of Sir Edmond for this adventure. It will get me in character, and should remind all of you" - not himself, of course - "that my nationality shouldn't be a hindrance in this matter." He gives a wry chuckle. "Of course, Sir Emond will profess to be a law-abiding man with Chelaxian interests in proper regard. To do otherwise would be foolish and dangerous. I should think I can pull that off, don't I?" He gives another wry chuckle. Don't I know it...
To close the matter and forestall further questions, Till changes the subject and takes the worn scrap of paper from the Venture-Captain. "This doesn't make a lot of sense, does it? Is any of you versed in code-breaking? Or is this something that's only understandable with the whimsical mind of a gnome? No matter, I suppose. We'll just ask him straight up when we find him." Till then stands up. "I've heard enough. I'll do some trading at the quartermaster, then retreat to my cabin to prepare for my next role. Please call on me when we're ready to board the whaler."
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Venture-Captain Bennary shakes her head in answer to Arisha’s question. “We just know that he’s stuck in the city since the empire locked it down - it’s your job to find him. Poppo managed to get us a message from him, hold on.” Calisro checks the pockets of her longcoat, producing and carefully handling a rough-worn scrap of paper. “‘Many faces fail to find the path. Send the worthless ones my last request for a vacation.’ There’s something else, too, but I can’t tell if it’s code or a diversion: ‘Noodles, the high form of poetry, point all slave masters to my lost memory,’” she quotes. “Do with that what you will, I suppose.”
Noam told his head from side to side as he thinks on the message. "He might be dead or dying. It sounds less a cypher and more like a soliloquy." he muses aloud.
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Aggie looks from person to person, trying to take everything in. Her little goat bleats and is quickly hushed. She repeats the cryptic message over and over. "Many faces fail to find the path. Send the worthless ones my last request for a vacation. Noodles, the high form of poetry, point all slave masters to my lost memory."
Aggie's face screws up with confusion. "Is noodle a metaphor or literal? I suppose we can't know until we have more information." She tries to think of additional question. "So... there's a chance of us setting off a revolution if we do this wrong? Although no insult to anyone, most of us are new at this. Why are we being sent?"
She suddenly looks excited. "Is the Grinning Pixie a real pirate ship full of real pirates?"
"Actually, it sounds like a bit of an insult," she sighs. "Worthless seems to be a euphemism for expendable."
The Venture-Captain gives a shrug. "I think he's referring to the Society more generally, and yes, the Decemvirate," she explains, taking a sympathetic tone and giving Noam a nod. "He has spent five years trapped in a city that's now burned down twice since he got stuck there. I won't begrudge him some hostility for that. Besides, he's an old friend of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng, and when Dreng wants someone smuggled out of a blockade, I don't argue."
Aggie's face screws up with confusion. "Is noodle a metaphor or literal? I suppose we can't know until we have more information." She tries to think of additional question. "So... there's a chance of us setting off a revolution if we do this wrong? Although no insult to anyone, most of us are new at this. Why are we being sent?"
She suddenly looks excited. "Is the Grinning Pixie a real pirate ship full of real pirates?"
"Please do your best not to set off another full-blown revolution," Calisro urges. She sighs at the thought of it and takes a swig of something out of a nearby mug. "If that happens, the Chelish navy flattens Pezzack and the strix drop burning logs on the wreckage. You die, Olandil dies, and hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent folks die too. In short: don't set off a revolution." That said, her tone becomes softer to answer the greenhorn shaman's other questions. "I don't know what the noodles are about. Anyway, I picked you bunch for this mission because anyone more notable would draw too much attention," she explains with a meaningful side-eye cast towards Lord Arthur. "If Olandil's as wily as his old friend Drandle Dreng, he won't need much help anyway. And no," she says with a laugh, "The Pixie's a merchant vessel with modifications that make her maneuverable and capable in a fight if it comes down to it. The same sort of modifications that make her a great lodge also make her easy to confuse with a pirate vessel, and the Chelish navy ain't exactly famous for asking first before opening fire."
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Niome purchases 2 pounds each of dried meat and salt as her trade goods. Also she picks up 2 flasks of oil and 2 tinderwigs. She seems to have a premonition that adventures often have to set things on fire. :)
Lastly five days worth of travel rations for herself in the case things are even worse in Pezzack than they all think. And then next to lastly, she splurges on a bar of chocolate. Nothing like a bribe of something sweet when threats get you nowhere. Worked on the children back home, surely it will work on devil worshipping soldiers as well... hopefully.
The new moon and clouds keep the pre-dawn sky dark as the Pixie sidles up to the Patience. The ragged whalers silently pull person after person from their hold of scant fish—emaciated elderly people, several haggard-looking young men and women, and even a trio of children—each of them looking like they’ve gone years without rest as they listlessly cross the plank joining the ships. Venture Captain Benarry welcomes the refugees in a booming voice, and her crew sets to work bringing provisions to the newcomers. The Patience’s crew lacks their ship’s namesake as they hurriedly wave over the refugee’s replacements.
The hour-long trip from the Grinning Pixie to Pezzack is cramped and unpleasant, but otherwise uneventful. Once the Patience docks, several crew members unceremoniously scoop and dump the young Pathfinders and a heap of fish into a large wagon. The crew swiftly wheels the wagon across the town’s poorly maintained cobblestones. Within a half-hour, a trap door in the wagon spills the Pathfinders (and fish) out of its underside. Instead of hitting cobblestone, they slide down a metal chute, and into a darkened room. A gnome throws open a door a moment after the Pathfinder land (their fall luckily softened by the pile of fish that went with them) and helps them to their feet. The light spilling in from the doorway reveals this to be a larder of some kind, and the gnome is bald and dark skinned with delicate spectacles and a magnificent blue beard - Professor Poppo.
Poppo hurries the Pathfinders down several dimly lit stone halls and into the Academy’s basement, which hosts cramped quarters for them to unload their gear and a single small tub of stale but clean water to help wash off the fish guts, if not the stench.
“Split me like Nethys’s eyebrow!” Poppo exclaims once everyone is a little more settled and nominally cleaner. “I’m genuinely surprised the Passfinders sent people! Sorry for the lack of a good cover story—didn’t have room in the notes—didn’t expect a response—and sorry for the fish guts and the bumpy roads and—oh, sorry for everything. If we had a little more time…”
Poppo trails off, but picks right back up after a moment of silence. “Right! You’re here for Olandil. It’s… it’s complicated. He’s, well, he’s not himself lately. He’s four selves. Since your little Passfinder Society left him behind, he’s had to make do—improvise—take on new names and jobs waiting for rescue.
“When I first met him, he went by Jax Telandril and needed me to enhance some goggles of disguise for some work in Docktown. He kept asking questions about Fat Harbor and the town’s magic item economy. A year later he came in needing me to add some disguise charms to an eye patch; I asked him why, and he spilled it all—so tired of keeping secrets—he was also Jacks Falger! The one-eyed Galtan spy!
“He kept coming back over the years. He came in one day as Jaks Arunai, some hot-shot White Thistles poet. Last week, he comes in looking awful, and said he was a Passfinder named Olandil, and I just… I couldn’t process it! Four people! One person!”
Poppo gesticulates madly, alternating between raising four fingers and one finger to emphasize his point. “I told him my own secret—I had been teaching a Passfinder vantage-captain as a correspondence student—and he told me to send her a message saying he wanted out of Pezzack. As though that’s even possible! But I sent it, and he thanked me, he left, and I haven’t seen him since.
“Night before last, I had Loyalists—” Poppo smothers the word with disdain, and doubles up on his disgust as he repeats it. “—Loyalists in my office, telling me to stop doing business with Olandil, following me everywhere except the Guts because I bet they don’t like to get their boots dirty. They knew who Olandil really is, too! And they’ve been outside the Academy since, watching, waiting. They don’t know about my ladder to the Guts, but they’ll find out eventually.”
Poppo fishes a rolled-up map of Pezzack from his robes and spreads it out on the basement floor. “There are a few places I would recommend to try and find more information about your multi-person Passfinder. For reference, we’re here, at The Academy of Applied Magic.” He points at various places on the map as he goes over them.
“First, Gold Street. The thieves’ guild operates out of here. Lots of information if you can buy it. You didn’t bring money with you, did you? Nobody takes money here. Maybe the Loyalists, but still, nobody worth spending it on.
“Then there’s The Inkwell. Literati hangout. Lots of rebels, lots of fights. Someone who knows Jaks the poet, the one in the White Thistles, will be there, I’m sure of it.
“Next, The Throne Defiant. Loyalist inn. If you want to get to the bottom of Olandil’s connection with the Loyalists, you can try there.
“Auntie’s. Big tavern in Docktown, and a good place for gossip. You can try asking about Jax Telandil around there—he’s the Docktown Jax—but mind who you talk to if you don’t want to spread rumors.
“Finally, there’s Madge’s Noodle Cart. Madge doesn’t know anything except noodles, but she knows noodles! You have to try them,” he insists.
“Any questions?”
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Till retreats to a private space on the ship for a while. He can be heard talking to himself and performing vocal exercises. He returns to deck an hour later, a different man. Well, he's still the same man, but also different. For one, he has changes his stark Chelexian coat for a white shirt with ruffles, partly unlaced to show some of his chest and also revealing a necklace inlaid with a rose in ivory. Over the shirt he wears a well-made leather vest decorated with brass studs. His blonde hair, earlier worn loose, is now held back by a thin leather cord. It shows off the lines of his face, among which a scar on his cheek that certainly wasn't there before. The scar is not the most surprising addition to his face, though: That qualification must be reserved for this smile. While Till has rarely smiled so far, he now seems to wear an almost perpetual friendly smile that even reaches his eyes and makes everything about him seem... softer.
Once back on deck he makes a round to practice his walk, which could be described as casual. He then approaches Niome like they've never met, makes a stylish bow and takes her hand if she lets him. "Young lady, I don't think we've been introduced. Sir Edmond of Estelbury. But please, just call me Edmond. Tell me, I've heard it say that you are a practitioner of the arcane arts. Admirable, such dedication to a difficult field of study. I'm a bit of a dabbler, but surely that pales in comparison to your skill. Do you have a specialization?"
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Noam grits his teeth when he sees the refuges, feeing rather guilty at all the ration he was now entrusted with holding onto for information.
At Till's... transformation he doesn't otherwise comment, curious what the Chelaxian was up to.
One fishy and bumpy trip later, "Hello Professor Poppo." he brightly says upon meeting the gnome.
After the long explanation of, we'll, everything, he speaks up, "A noodle cart you say?"