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Garinol has similar concerns with many of his missiins, uncertain if they would undermine their hosts confidence by showing some of the Society's darker side.
"My name is Garinol, a simple priest of the Dawn. Perhaps most pertinent must have been a call for help a few years ago here in Karcau. We where asked to look into the possible disappearance of one of our own that had not reported in at some time."
He tries to refrain from any implication that the Venture-Captian at the time may have turned against the Society or had questionable agendas, "When we arrived, the Lodge was nearly empty, a group of bandits having recently moved in and pretending to be Pathfinder agents. Turns out they had murdered the others and hid them around the Lodge, and had no a passage in the basement led to an outpost for the Darkfolk below."
"We are not sure what happened, but the Darkfolk had turned on the Venture-Captain and looted the lodge of artifacts they where attempting to use to power some sort of . . . device that was able to create or destroy light and shadow."
"We managed to sneak in, recovering the remaining Pathinders being tormented, and stopped the Darkfolk from claiming the lodge as a well hidden in plain sight gateway into Ustalav."
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"Did you know that the common folk believe this theater is haunted? It has to do with a series of murders that happened here decades ago. The murderer was a makeup artist driven mad by envy. She killed every member of the chorus line before emerging on stage drenched in blood.
She was named Mad Mad Margaret, and she killed the chorus members with a pair of sewing scissors. Reports of Margaret describe a wide variety of hauntings, ranging from shrieking rage to sorrowfully watching actors as they rush toward the stage. It is said she especially loathes the beautiful."
He pauses to regain his breath and then continues "It might be worth investigating, but it can also be a folk tale"
Faeranduil bows low "Wel met Countess, I am Faeranduil, evoker in the service of the Society. I will assist my fellows with my considerable magic. As I have done on many earlier occasions. Let me tell you about the time we had to move supplies from a town held by a rival organisation. It was imperative that we remained inconspicious and we succeeded in doing just that.
Another time I was instrumental in bringing a would-be assassin to justice. The culprit attempted to take the life of one of our esteemed Venture-Captains. Needles to say we managed to get him back.
To conclude I have also investigated one of the hidden libraries of a very secret organisation, whose name I will not mention here, lest one of their agents is listening in on us. We did so without drawing attention and managed to bring the required information with us.
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Straightening, he gestures briefly to Zahra as he says "My wife and I were recently sent into the Realm of the Mammoth Lords to garner allies. As part of that effort, our group successfully negotiated with two different tribes and destroyed multiple demons that were plaguing the area."
"That is rather impressive. I have only heard rumors of those lands, although they are so close to where I tend to work, I have never been."
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"Did you know that the common folk believe this theater is haunted? It has to do with a series of murders that happened here decades ago. The murderer was a makeup artist driven mad by envy. She killed every member of the chorus line before emerging on stage drenched in blood.
She was named Mad Mad Margaret, and she killed the chorus members with a pair of sewing scissors. Reports of Margaret describe a wide variety of hauntings, ranging from shrieking rage to sorrowfully watching actors as they rush toward the stage. It is said she especially loathes the beautiful."
He pauses to regain his breath and then continues "It might be worth investigating, but it can also be a folk tale"
Listening intently, Garinol will make certain to copy that tale down in his journal, but is not so certain he wishes to speak with the spook now, save to put her to rest.
"I did not know all of this, and it certainly seems there may be something to this. Does anyone know what became of Mad Margaret after the murders?"
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"I am Zahra and this is my baby, Pumpkin. Pumpkin, vave at the nice lady! Ve are from Kat-a-pesh! Ve are very friendly!"
"My husband and I have been part of many investigations. In addition, I did investigation vork in Dustpawn, Isger. It involved not only a missing persons case, but also investigations of a cult that vas poisoning the town's vater supply. In Pathfinder Society, ve are called upon as discreet problem solvers. Ve vill do our best to find your missing star... and our best is very good."
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Omar digs in his pocket and tries to discretely slip pumpkin one of his tiger treats. As amusing as the idea of having Pumpkin play with his favorite ball in front of the Countess may be, Basia was clear she wanted us to make a good impression.
Omar whispers "أسفل الولد" as he feeds the treat to the tiger.
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Lurgh gives a rehearsed but half-hearted bow to the Countess.
Simply put I have been on several rescue missions for the society. Whether a envoy of dwarven diplomats from Razmiran, a druid's assistant abducted from the Sanos forest, and even the aforementioned Skeldon Miregrold. As far as what I do? I make the captors wished they had just released the prisoner and turned themselves in before we ever arrived. I'd heard rumors going around that the Razmiri had feared a dragon had ransacked their prison, claw marks on doors torn open, guards reduced to bits of charred bone and ash. But don't worry. I'll give Sovina's abductors a chance to surrender. I doubt they will take it though. They never do the first time, and I never offer twice.
Countess Livgrace listens intently to each of you in turn.
To Vrald, the countess offers a broad smile and inclines her head appreciatively, ”I appreciate your discretion, Lord Sehir. I trust you and your Pathfinder friends will be mindful of your delicate political situation as you investigate these worrying crimes.”
Her eyes narrow as Garinol details the events of several years ago, ”So you were here for that unpleasantness with Skeldon Miregold? The sewers and tunnels under the city conceal the darker aspects of our bright city, I am afraid. I am glad to have you here again now, Garinol, and hope you are equally as effective. May the light of the Dawnflower illuminate your path.”
She nods along as Faeranduil begins to ramble, ”Ahh, yes. Powerful magics may be necessary to resolve this matter, Faeranduil. Evocation, you say?” her voice betrays only the slightest hint of skepticism.
The countess looks between Omar, Pumpkin, and Zahra, ”You do make quite the team, Omar, Zahra, Pumpkin.” her face darkens at Zahra’s mention of Dustpawn, ”If some dark cult has kidnapped these people, I fear our chances of returning them alive. Such a well-trained animal will surely prove invaluable.”
She looks Lurgh over as he speaks of his past, ”I truly hope your services do not prove necessary.”
At last she clasps her hands together, ”I still have little idea of what you all are capable of, I know mostly what tasks you have done. Still, that is enough to earn my trust for now.” she turns to Kalistoff, ”If you will accompany me out?”
The Venture-Captain turns to leave with the countess, ”You have access to the theater. Conduct your investigations and find these missing persons.”
The two ladies take their leave, and the group descends the stairs in their wake. In the lobby, the countess and the venture-captain continue toward the exit. Standing opposite, left wide open after disgorging the upper crust of Karcau society, are the doors to the theater.
The interior of the Cloisoi Theater is voluminous, plush, and imposing. The high ceilings magnify every sound, and the balcony boxes seem to loom above the floor seating. The darkened stage still features set dressings from the evening’s performance. Several hundred seats fill the slightly sloped theater floor. The upholstery is good quality red velvet, if a bit worn, and the smell of expensive perfume lingers on the fabric.
The stage is tilted slightly toward the audience. Though they look realistic from afar, many of the set pieces seem shoddily built. Many feature protruding nails or jagged bits of unfinished woodwork. A single candle burns in a stand at the front of the the stage.
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Vrald, sends a couple of stones spinning around his head. One of them providing a good source of light.
He was about to start forward when Garinol's voice brings him to a halt.
Then, seeing the others confirm it he hurries forward to put his armoured form between the group and any threat.
"Then let us investigate!"
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Floating Disk, Mage armor, Overland Flight, Protection from Arrows, Unseen Servant (10 hours)
Seeing that the others all provide enough light Faeranduil does not take his own ioun torch out of his pocket. He follows the others.
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Uncertain just what the alarmed sounds might indicate, Garinol tries to circle around through the seating area, cautiously, but quickly making his wat to the stage, while keeping within sight of the team.
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Vrald and Omar set their ioun torches to revolve about their heads, then lead the group up the stairs and open the door to backstage.
The wings are packed full of props, extraneous set pieces, and costumes. Fake swords hang from pegs on the walls, dozens of elaborate costumes hang on racks, and rows of crude wooden busts support myriad wigs. The indistinct voices coming seem to come from across the stage, the sense of alarm now tinged with anger.
Garinol sticks to the shadows and climbs onto the stage.
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Omar whispers "I think we should try to talk to them before hostilities break out. Still, a small protective ward seems prudent."
He then casts barkskin on himself, using a metamagic rod to extend the duration.
Faeranduil strains to listen, but even his delicate elven ears can't quite make out words in the voices coming from south backstage.
Garinol casts his divinations, but detects neither magic nor evil on the stage.
From the stairs, you can see two other doors. One opening from the wing onto the stage, and the other leading behind the stage. Both are closed.
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Zahra follows Vrald up with a gentle smile.
"Vhat my comrade means to say is, ve are here vith the Countess Livgrace's permission. Ve vere informed no one else vould be here. Vere ve mistaken? I am Zahra and these are my companions. Ve are pleased to meet you, but ve have a few questions. Perhaps ve can all talk for a moment?"
After Garinol regroups with the party and gives an all-clear, Vrald leads the group to the stage door. He and Zahra step onto stage and address the empty theater.
From their vantage point, Vrald and Zahra can see the side of set pieces normally hidden from the audience. Many protruding nails and jagged bits of unfinished woodwork are visible.
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"Maybe it is the ghosts" says Vrald, with perhaps a degree of scorn in his voice. Or maybe worry. Ghosts are notoriously hard to hurt with steel.
"These bits of scenery look more like something out of a torture chamber than a play. Someone could get badly hurt by those nails."
He tries cautiously pushing aside the curtain that blocks the back area to see what may be hidden there.
If you are looking for clues, roll a Perception check!
Garinol scans the backstage area, ruminating on the acoustic properties of the theater as his eyes wander between props, extraneous set pieces, and various costumes.
From backstage, Omar can hear the faint voices of alarm.
Omar and Vrald find themselves behind the stage and among yet more props and pieces of scenery. There is a door to the south of the area.
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"I honestly couldn't say." as he produces a small wand, "I don't trust disguises, using magic to alter my features on the hunt. But, is it really that odd that these costumes would not be here? Again, I have no mind for such, . . . entertainments, so I'm sincerely asking."
"I could see someone stealing a beggar's costume, and a guard for sure. But a merchant? Wouldn't it be easier to simply buy the real thing?"
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"Only if they could buy them." Omar notes.
Nodding in Garinol's direction, he adds "You were the one who talked of people from the dark lands causing trouble before. I doubt they would have many contacts who would sell them clothes in the style popular here in Karcau."
"As for knowledge of theaters, my wife and I frequently socialize with a wide variety of artists." he says as he fingers his holy symbol of Shelyn.
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"So.." says Vrald, working his way through the backstage props.
"We think we may have stumbled on someone taking disguises? Let us progress on to the dressing room we were hoping to visit, eh?"
He gives a second look to the poorly made construction.
"It is almost as if the people working here were not professionals. Surely someone in the audience would have noticed such shoddy work...."
Then again, maybe they are more here to see and be see, than to watch.
Vrald slowly works his way across the area to the next door.
"Shall we?"
This area of backstage is less cluttered than the others, but one chest left open among the boxes is overstuffed with masks and feather boas.
To the west is a door partly covered with a knee-high pile of bouquets and notes. To the south, another door is marked as an exit by a mud rug and coat pegs.
The door is locked.
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Vrald keeps his eyes open for a footprint.
"Are you a skilled tracker, lady Senay?" asks Vrald, impressed but not surprised. Folk with big animal companions seem to have a lot of affinity for the woodlands life skills.
The knight digs through the feather boas.
"Really? Do people actually wear these?"
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"Really? Do people actually wear these?"
"Muh, . . . "artists". . ."
As the other begin to sift through the notes, Garinoll will glance casually over their shoulder, "Again, I find it rather questionable that a star-of-the-week would be so missed and adored. Am I the only one that finds this odd?"
"As I mentioned, I'm no expert on the opera or acting, but I would think the theatre's highest priority would be to find a replacement so that the show could go on. But, if you like, I could open it. . ." not entirely certain there will be much useful information to be found within. If she was abducted, and this was beyond the realm of the guards, one would reasonably assume that whoever did the dark deed was at least competent, and the fanatics would have already cleaned the scene. Regardless, . . .
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"Skilled tracker?" Zahra wraps the feather boa around herself for a moment, admiring it in the mirror before reluctantly putting it back. "No. Far from it. But all vands like me. I am from Kat-a-pesh. Ve are very friendly!" She pulls a wand out of her haversack, showing it to Garinol. "This vand has could show us much... But only if I have a footprint to vork vith."
She lifts up one of Olivina's notes. "See how many of these there are? She vas loved, as all great artists are."
Zahra detects magic around the room, to make sure she didn't miss anything.