Fresh off of their rousing success completing the mundane tasks Venture Captain Valsin had set out for them only a few days before, the green pathfinders find themselves eagerly awaiting the chance to do more for the society, and in particular, earn the chance to be more than just errand boys.
Rumors of initiates being sent off to early graduation start to circulate through the rank and file causing all manner of angst and consternation.
Fully expecting to be summoned to Valsin's office and sent on another errand running trip, the pathfinders are surprised to find their orders say explicitely to meet Valsin down at the docks, in particular they are to meet with Valsin on the deck of the Sixwing Drake.
... Zarah Zendrani, captain of the vessel will be expecting you. Do not be late. The end of the missive reads, with no information on what they should expect.
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A ship, how wonderful! The majestic vessels soar the high seas, and everywhere around one can see the magnificent view of the horizon. The fresh wind, all that open space. To stand at the bow and sing how one's heart will go on... Is there anything better?
But first, Tybain needs to find the ship in question. The Absalom docks are busy at this hour, people coming and going. Plenty of ships out there, as well. The masked man stands in the crowd, staring at his missive. A couple of times he tried to ask a passer-by, but they just changed direction when they saw him coming. Frustrated, he climbs atop some crates for a better view.
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The young man walks through the bustling harbor, glancing down at his newly arrived orders. He has thought there was more training in Absalom in store for him, before the society would deem him fit to travel on their behalf. With a sigh, shaking his head in disappointment, he wonders if he is getting his hopes up for no reason and upon reaching the Sixwing Drake will simply be asked to swab the deck or perform some other menial task. But even still, he reserves a small glimmer of hope that something great and adventurous might lie ahead.
Sixwing Drake, the youth recites the name of the vessel in his mind while looking up to the towering forms of mighty ships that litter the harbor. As he looks over each vessel in turn, he cannot help but feel a twinge of wonder take hold, knowing each of these ships represents pure freedom and the ability to traverse, given enough time, any sea or ocean on Golarion. Please let these orders mean travel is in store...
Ahead, Edgar sees the unmistakeable form of Tybian standing atop a nestled pile of crates. "How is the view from up there, my friend," he calls, noticing the nearby crowd noticing an odd masked man on his perch. "I suppose you are looking for the Sixwing Drake, as well. Any sign of her?"
Pausing to look about him, specifically for any sign of pathfinder recruits he may know. If I was lucky enough to be selected for this mission, and so was Tybain, maybe some of our friends were also...
That is, assuming there is a mission...
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It was not long after his...meeting... with the Paracountess Zarta Dralneen that Ifran received the letter. Luckily, she had made sure he bathed before he left, though that might have been to make sure the scratches she had left would heal properly. 'An enthusiastic woman she is... Even though we never actually discussed the Dark Archives. Odd, that. At least she requested I see her again... Maybe we'll talk more about then. She did instruct me on the proper use of that silver handled riding crop. That was interesting. I would have thought it more useful in riding horses. She is very nice, though. I liked that drink she gave me.. But what did she call it? For some reason I cannot remember, though I am sure it will come to me later. I hope this mission isn't long, I could use a little more sleep.'
"Oh, hello, friends! I hope the day sees you well?"
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"Very well!" calls Bugdip, his voice unexpectedly coming from below. The grippli seems to be enjoying a swim in the water.
"I think I'd perhaps best get out of here before the salt dries up my skin, though!" he chuckles as he clambers up the dock - using a post, and not the ladder that is a mere 10 ft from him, "I haven't seen Zarah Zendrani, but it is good to see most of my old friends again! Do you think they'll send any new Pathfinders with us?"
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Glarifyur seems to hesitate, if only for a moment, before placing his heavy leather boot upon the first plank of wood of the dock; the last plank touching the solid ground laid out invitingly behind.
"Tis a test of mettle. It must be..." Glarifyur mutters under his breath, half lament and half self-assurance.
First a little jaunt out to a warehouse suspended over water, now I'm to get on a ship?! This must be a test. Valsin must be an old acquaintance of that prideful father of mine, and he must have put him to this task. "Teach the boy some humility; make him uncomfortable..." Glarifyur could hear the husky voice of his father trail into a hearty laugh as he imagined him sharing some victory feast or another with the Venture Captain.
Lost in his thoughts, Glarifyur realizes he has walked most of the way down the dock, but had neglected to look for the words "Sixwing Drake" on the bow of one of these ships swaying uncomfortably in their slips. Or was it the stern... he could never keep it straight. As he turns to walk back toward the welcoming stability of the shoreline, he makes a point to avoid a rather odd-looking fellow with a mask covering his face. The dwarf glances over his shoulder and, peering over the edge of his shield, he notices the masked man leap atop some crates as another man calls to him. As a frog-man of sorts climbs the dock from the depths below to join them, he thinks, Strange folk out here today. just as he processes the fact that one of them mentioned the Sixwing Drake.
Strange companions, it seems...
Glarifyur sighs heavily in the way that dwarves often do, turns on his heel, adjusts his shield on his back and trudges towards the group; the awkward rhythmic staccato of his boots hitting the planks reminding him how out-of-his-element he was.
"A test of mettle, indeed..."
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As the suli sees a dwarf moving towards the group, obviously looking for the name of a ship (or at least that is what Ifran assumes by the deliberate looking at the names), he walks towards him, extends his hand, and says, "Good day, sir! I am Ifran al-Sharifi, Pathfinder. Are you looking for us? I hope so, and I am sure that we'll be fast friends before long. What wonderful Pathfinders, aside from myself, and Bugdip here, have you met? Have you seen my autograph book? I even have the Paracountess Zarta Dralneen in here, though I don't know why she required that she signed it in my blood? That seemed a little odd..."
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Bugdip licks his eyeballs and angrily snatches a roving moth from the air. Despite its dusty texture and bitter aftertaste, he chomps it noisily at Ifran.
"Foolish boy, off with that self-deluded evil witch," Bugdip grumbles, "Thinking with his dick instead of his brain - or legs. Thinking with your legs is perfectly acceptable."
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Glarifyur shakes Ifran's hand and nods to the other pathfinders.
"Glarifyur, son of Durifyur. Clan Egdoras. Nice to make your acquaintance. I too am a Pathfinder in search of the Sixwing Drake at the behest of Venture Captain Valsin. I, uh, regret that I haven't heard of you. Although, I think everyone has heard of Paracountess Dralneen. Not that I would have a taste for that sort of adventure!"
"So, ah... has anyone seen this ship?" Glarifyur shifts his weight nervously, and the wooden plank under his boot groans. "I am...anxious to get started..."
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The youth looks toward the newly arrived dwarf, his eyes peering out from beneath the wide, flat brim of his hat. His voice calls pleasantly through the fabric of the scarf wound numerous times around his neck and head, leaving only a narrow slit below the hat through which his eyes can be seen. "It's nice to meet you, Glarifyur, son of Durifyur," he greets the dwarf warmly. "My name is Edgar, and this--" he motions to the masked man still towering atop of the nearby crates. "Is Tybian."
"We, like Ifran and Bugdip, are in the process of become pathfinders, as well," he says, nodding in agreement and acknowledging his friends recent arrival. "Hopefully after this we will be once step closer to our confirmation."
"I think we are all anxious to get stared and to see what the next task is before us. I haven't seen the vessel yet, myself," he says, again, turning to face Tybian. "What do you see from such a height, Tybian, my freind? Can you make out where the Sixwing Drake makes berth?"
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"Pleasure to meet you also, Glory-Fur son of Dirty-Fur," it is clear the grippli struggles with names, attempting to find regular bound to make up the components of proper nouns, "My name is Bugdip... erm... son of... ah... one who smells strongly of reeds, oak seeds and with a hint of dragonblooms." Bugdip bows deeply and awkwardly.
All of a sudden, his face lights up, "Say, you don't suppose they would send Finer-Inn on this mission with us?"
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"... LL ..." says the raspy voice behind the mask, and the man waves his hand at the dwarf as well as his old acquaintance. The gesture could be interpreted as a greeting, but it is difficult to say for sure. In response to Edgar's introduction, Tybain makes a deep bow, swinging his arms wide open. Straightening back up, he points his hand toward a ship bit further away, which he thinks is the one they seek.
Then the masked man jump down from the crates, landing with a clang of metal. Since their last mission together, Tybain has replaced his theathrical armor with a sturdier chain armor. Perhaps the beating he took in the ambush made him consider his personal safety.
Then he starts making his way towards the ship, motioning the others to follow.
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"Well met Edgar, Bugdip, Tybain."
As Glarifyur takes a step towards Edgar to greet him, another board creaks and shifts under his feet. Although the wooden planks comprising this rather large dock are sturdy, the dwarven penchant for noticing the elevation and grade when underground combined with his general discomfort off the earth makes each slight creak seem like the beams themselves were made of the waves beneath. Glarifyur's stomach knots for a second, and he rests his hand there through the metal plate attached to his mail.
I don't know if all this steel was such a good idea... makes me awfully heavy. Not that I could much swim anyhow. I would sink like a stone even stark naked. Agh, I gotta stop thinking! Make myself sicker yet!
"Oi there; looks as if Tybain might have found our girl!
Ships are "girls" right? No wonder the thought of them makes me sick... Glari! Stop thinking!
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Edgar peers out from beneath the hat's flat brim and watches as Glarifyur keenly observers the planks of the dock at his feet. The dwarf appears to be regarding the beams, or more likely, the water of the harbor beneath, with great care and apprehension.
He seems a study fellow, the youth thinks, still looking upon the dwarf. He is weighted by armor and shield, but it appears to be more than the sight of welcoming water that troubles him now. Observing Glarifyur for a moment longer, his attention is eventually pulled toward Tybian and the motion for them all to follow. "Don't worry, Glarifyur, you seem a little ill at ease, but we'll be safe from this water and aboard a ship very soo-" he pauses his words, realizing they are not as comforting as he had intended. "Umm... say.... Bugdip..."
"I don't know if this, Finer-Inn, will be joining us," Edgar says, now turning to the grippli and changing the subject. "Unless he is leading us in the next task set before us. You said he is a true, full-fledged pathfinder, correct? Unless he is to be our leader, he may very well have bigger, more important matters to attend to." As he speaks, the youth quickens his pace to catch up to Tybain.
The sun is bright as the Pathfinders find themselves on the dock facing the Sixwing Drake. She appears a sleek and fast ship, a jewel bobbing in the waters among the rest in the bustling docks district.
"Ahoy! Ye have permission ta come aboard!" Shouts a stereotypical looking sailor from the decks before nodding to a very important looking Varisian woman and moving on busily to attend to other things.
Suddenly a stocky dwarf pushes past the assembled pathfinders and storms up the gangplank. The group can hear the conversation not to far away as he approaches the one who appears to be the captain, the varisian woman.
"Aye, I'm here ta escort ye out 'o the harbor. Ye know the drill, no one cin navigate alone. 'Tis policy, and yer not about to be any exception." comes the gruff dwarven voice, irritation plain to hear.
"Fair enough, I wasn't asking for any special favors. You just seem a bit rushed is all. I'm worried about you Dunlidier. You need to get out more, relax. You are wound up tighter than an eight day clock." The varisian woman's words are soothing.
"Bah, yer right lass. Sorry for me gruffness. That last vessel I escorted out had a right motley crew of them pathfinders on it. Biggest Garundi I've ever seen. And if that damn priest 'o the drunken one woulda tempted me with his magik ales one more time I mighta punched him. After I gave in ta me temptations of course. Heh! He should be knownin I can't be drinkin on the job. Twas a relief when that elf... ah, what was his name... Finarin. Aye, Finarin chased him away ta let me do me job proper. I'm tellin ye, a weird bunch that. Loudest Half-Orc I ever heard, and thats sayin somethin. An old geezer looked like he was gunna break his hip climin the gangplank! Ha! The Garundi, the elf, the drunk, and some sneaky looking Keleshite. Didn't trust 'im at all by the looks of 'im. Ok ok, to work. I'm on my way. Say, when do your pathfinders get here? Yer scheduled to leave in a half hour. I sure hope yer ready! Can't be messin up me schedule..."
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A short, , gnome dressed in a motley of brightly colored clothing comes rushing up the dock, one hand on his hat, another on a leather pouch that is bouncing against his thigh.
"Wait for me! Wait forme! I am coming as fastas I can. Just a moment and I will bethere. I was held upin the market. They wanted to charge me 100 pieces of gold for my new magicwand." He takes his hand off his hat which promptly flies off his head so that he can reach into his pouch. Running on a dock with both hands in his pouch, the gnome begins to waddle precariously close to the side, before pitching straight at the other side of the dock and he brandishes his wand.
"See it is a wandthat makes magical bolts fly out justlike I can ...." An acracne bolt zips from the edge of the wand straight at the Pathfinders. They all duck as it whistles over their head and burns a hole right through the sail.
"Oh I am sorry. It seemsthat I don't quite have the hang of this yet. I can fix that. Or someone can fix that. It probably can be fixed.
"So this is the Sixwing Drake. How does one get six wings on a drake? That type of propulsion would definitely makes an odd flight pattern."
Turning to Glarifyur, "Where are my manners. I had heard that we would have newpotentialPathfinders on this mission. You must be new. Like us. I am LOGUANRNUGATSOFARMUNGEN. But my human friends just call me Nugats.
"You say that you have stone in your blood? Can Iget some? Have you seen my hat? It was on my head."
The dwarf ship pilot is flustered and taken aback by the gliding grippli.
"I... ah.. woah there!" he says, backing up and stumbling over a line that one of the sailors was winding.
"He was... ah... curt... 'e spoke in a halting style, I... uhh.. didn't pay to much attention, I was just glad to have that dammed temptation taken away from me." The dwarf finally gathers himself from the shock of Bugdip's enthusiasm.
"Ye could tell that the lot of them had been friends fer a while. I didn't pay much mind. They was sailin on the Maelstrom with Venture-Captain Retief VanSchuyver. I jus took 'em out, ye can probably still see their sails if'n ye climb to the top of the crow's nest here. They started out on an almost due south heading, not sure if they'd turned by now."
The dwarf stops, hoping that is enough information to distract the grippli while he goes to find something else to do.
Yee-gads! This group is stranger than the last! At least they have a proper dwarf. he thinks to himself, nodding to Glarifyur.
Near the helm of the ship, the Varisian woman paces impatiently, a furrowed brow and look of concern painted on her face. She flashes a positively angry look to the gnome who just put a hole in her sail, and storms off to deal with it.
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A stocky dwarf makes his way up the gangplank. He clearly does not look enthralled by the idea of boarding a boat, and seems a bit unsteady even though the vessel is still at anchor. A chipped and battered glaive hangs on his back, and he's outfitted in various furs and skins, with a studded leather breastplate peeking out of his cloak.
Next to him saunters a mountain lion, muscles rippling down its back. Its coat is a deep khaki color, and it seems to immediately size everyone up with uncomfortably intelligent eyes.
"First time out and they put me on a boat..." the dwarf mumbles under his breath.
Looking around he spots Zarah. "Captain Zendrani, I presume? Name's Amin...apologizes for my tardiness, ma'am. I'm ready to sail, and Regina here won't be any trouble."
He glances at the cat, who for a brief second looks to be scowling...
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The youth turns at the sound of a low, new voice stepping aboard the vessel. Turning quick, the youth looks and sees yet another dwarf boarding the Sixwing Drake, and feels his brow dip unintentionally in surprise. Next her turns back to Glarifyur, holds his gaze for a moment, then turns back to the new comer, his expression easily showing that he did not expect another dwarf to be arriving. What was more interesting than simply the arrival of a second dwarf, was that of the agile, deadly form of a mountain lion stalking gracefully at Amin's side.
"We're glad you could join us, Amin," the youth says, glancing toward the new companion from beneath the brim of his hat. "If I were a betting man, I'd wager that you round out this party of ours."
"My name is Edgar Blackwood, though most call me Rattus," he beings, turning and motioning to the towering form of the masked man also on deck. "This is Tybian, wearing the mask. He can be a bit theatrical from time to time, but his fists strike with all the power of a blacksmith's hammer."
Now motioning to the chipper gnome, currently looking Glarifyur up and down. "That is BLOWGUNRUNFUNSONOFAFARMERSTAN... I'm sure I didn't get that right... so we've been regarding him as Nugats. He doesn't seem to mind, and I'm thankful for that because he can conjure and weave the fabric of the universe into spells like I have never seen."
Moving on, Edgar now turns to the other human in the party, besides himself. "That is Ifran, I've seen his words and magic make our enemies try to murder one another. Quite impressive. However, he took quite a shine to Paracountess Zarta Dralneen," Edgar suppresses a shudder. "And I think he let himself down..."
Next turning to the other newly arrived dwarf aboard the Sixwing Drake. "This is Glarifyur. We haven't known him too long ourselves, but he seems a sturdy enough fellow. And he seems to eye the water with a similar distaste as you, and that of your feline friend there...
Now, Edgar pauses and turns back and forth, looking around the deck as if in search of something. After a moment he realizes that the person he is searching for is, in fact, no longer on the deck at all, and so Rattus tilts his head vertically to call loudly into the air. "Bugdup!" he shouts. "Come down and meet our new friend!" The youth now lowers his gaze once more to meet Amin's. "Somewhere up there is Bugdip, our grippli sword-master. I'm sure he'll be down shortly, he's... well... up there looking for a friend, as it were..."
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Tybain pauses for a moment, his head turning to Amin, Glarifyur, Nugats, Bugdip and the dwarven pilot. The mask on his face hides his thoughts, but body language speaks of puzzlement.
More dwarves than a varisian sideshow. How odd... Am I in right play at all? Are we to dance and sing? ... NO, no... remember. Pathfinders.. This is a mission, not a stageplay!
Tybain assumes at least one of the new dwarves is part of their team, so he gives a deep, welcoming bow to each of them.
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"Well met, Amin!"
Glarifyur extends his arm with enthusiasm matching his tone of voice.
"Glarifyur, son of Durifyur of the Egdoras clan. It is a welcome sight indeed to see a fellow kinsman assigned to this mission. And don't worry; that nauseous feeling will pass soon enough."
Glarifyur's words ring with sincerity, although the last part seemed more for his own convincing than Amin's
"That is a fine cat you have there Amin, although I trust she does not have a taste for Dwarf!
Or frog's legs, it would seem... Glarifyur chuckles despite himself as he glances up the rigging at the Grippli as he desperately scans the horizon.
Keeping his eyes focused on the horizon, Bugdip eventually spots the silhouette of a ship against the bright sky. His heart rate begins to increase, and then he is startled as a man next to him wordlessly sticks a spyglass in his face.
Eagerly looking through the device, Bugdip is rewarded with the ever so small sight of a slender figure, hair blowing in the breeze standing stoically near the prow of the ship.
Below, the varisian captain flashes Amin a concerned look after taking in the sight of the great hunting cat. ”Make sure he… she… doesn’t eat anything but the rats on my ship. No human…oids… Or I’ll dump you both overboard.” She finishes with a disarming smile.
Water laps steadily at the pier as sailors, laborers, and merchants rush busily around Absalom’s port. The venture-captain’s summons called for a meeting aboard the Sixwing Drake, a sleek sailing ship. The Drake’s captain, a Varisian woman and fellow Pathfinder named Zarah Zendrani, stands at the helm of her vessel.
“It’s not like Valsin to be late,” she mutters, furrowing her brow.
As if on cue, a tall and meticulously groomed man pushes his way through the crowd and up the gangplank, cursing audibly. “Whoever supervises this mess of a port needs to be dumped in the sea!” he grumbles. The tall man looks around at those gathered before him. “Just the group I requested. Perfect. I’m Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin, and I took great care in selecting just the right Pathfinders for this assignment.”
Valsin reaches into his belt pouch and withdraws a small, folded paper before continuing. “A few days ago, I received a curious note from a rather unexpected source. It’s not every day that I get a request from an agent of the Aspis Consortium.” Captain Zendrani’s eyes widen, and Valsin smiles knowingly.
“But Magali Delroya does not appear to be your typical Aspis agent. As you surely know, the Aspis Consortium pursues a variety of activities across the Inner Sea that the Pathfinder Society finds abhorrent. It seems that Delroya has been working with them for some time, but can no longer stomach the snakes herself. She wants to stop a shipment of an experimental drug from leaving Diobel later this week. It’s bound for a number of locations across the Inner Sea region. According to Delroya, she can’t ask the local authorities for help, because the Aspis Consortium has already struck a deal with a faction of the Kortos Consortium, a powerful merchant collective. Her hands are tied, so she’s come to us for help. In this note, she outlines three different tasks that would help to disrupt the Aspis long enough for her to move the shipment to a secure location, out of the clutches of the consortium. Once you accomplish two of these tasks, she’s willing to meet with you, but not before.
“Normally, I wouldn’t trust an Aspis agent at any hour of the day. But our sources in Diobel have confirmed the Aspis and Kortos consortia’s activities. Everything checks out, so we are presented with a unique opportunity. If we help Delroya, we might not only strike a financial blow against the Aspis Consortium, but we could also reveal their dealings with the Kortos Consortium—and possibly prevent their arrangement from turning into a more formal alliance. Furthermore, we hope to stop this drug from spreading across the Inner Sea region, and if we—if all of you—do a good enough job, we might even convince Delroya to join the Society. A turncoat agent would be a valuable asset in our ongoing run-ins with the Aspis Consortium.
“Take some time to look over Delroya’s note and the tasks she has set for you. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask. Remember, the Aspis Consortium is a long-time enemy of the society, but the Kortos Consortium, while certainly suspicious, is not our enemy. It is a complex organization with many factions, and we should avoid antagonizing any of them, except when necessary to oppose the Aspis Consortium.”
There is no formal alliance between the Kortos Consortium and Aspis Consortium, and the two groups are likely working together in a limited capacity—at least for the time being.
Although the Aspis Consortium seems to have an agreement with part of the Kortos Consortium, neither group is centralized enough for such an arrangement to be very stable. Causing a major disruption in their operation would very likely sever ties between the two groups.
House Locosta, the faction allied with the Aspis Consortium, claims that its major interest is in Qadiran spices, but the family derives most of its profit from buying and selling Qadiran slaves.
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Eagerly looking through the device, Bugdip is rewarded with the ever so small sight of a slender figure, hair blowing in the breeze standing stoically near the prow of the ship.
"It's him!" Bugdip cries, tears welling up behind his second layer of eyelids, "It really is him. Good luck, my mentor. Good luck."
"Strange, I do not believe that the Kortos Consortium and the Aspis consortium usually work together," Bugdip scratches the outside of his inflated vocal sac, letting it out in a single long utterance that sounds very much like a purr, "They must have struck up some kind of temporary bargain.
"Mister Valsin, I don't know much about the Kortos Consortium. Who are these merchants and what do they stand for? Do they have a symbol that will help us recognize the difference between their agents and the 'snakes'?" Bugdip opens his eyes eagerly as though ready to see the information Valsin is hopefully about to reveal.
Bugdip, yet again, manages to avoid informing Valsin that he clearly uses too much mustache oil.
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The youth initially stands motionless while Valsin expounds upon the task at hand, though about halfway through the speech Edgar begins to fidget nervously, adjusting the long-wrappings of scarf wound around his neck and lower face. After their last mission, the youth had managed to not draw the venture-captain’s attention or suspicion, and so Edgar's phantom knocking on Valsin's door at what have been their first meeting has yet gone unnoticed by the man. Now, the bubbling fear that Venture-Captain Valsin would put the pieces together caused Edgar to stir uncomfortable and when at least the speech was over, the youth immediately followed Bugdip's questions with a few of his own, hoping to keep the Venture-Captain distracted.
"Well spoken, Bugdip," Edgar begins, nodding to the grippli. "I didn't know those two organizations work together either." Standing firm for a moment, the youth ponders to himself about what vital pieces information they might need in order to be perfectly successful. He takes a moment longer to peruse the notes provided by Magali Delroya.
"I am in favor of the first and third tasks laid out on the note," he begins. "Disrupting the meeting between the Aspis agent and the Kortos agent. That would allow Magali Delroya's part in this mission to remain a mystery. Then, finding the alchemist's lab, and bringing his notes to the proper authorities to expose the Aspis Consortium's role and dire intentions."
"I assume you have read Magali Delroya's note detailing the three possible tasks, Venture-Captain Valsin?" the youth asks. "The pathfinder society does not have a preference which two of these three tasks we complete, so long as we secure the participation and cooperation of Magali Delroya at the end?"
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"What there is an alchemists thatis making baddrugs? Drugsthatdonot help people?" Upon hearing this incredulious news, Nugats turns an odd shade of purple. "I havenever, of allthe bad things, what Iam going to do!"
The gnome has obviously lost a bit of control and begins to talk at an even more accelerated rate while making chopping motions with his hands. "WhenIfindthis Laszo theLepper, I am goingto shove this whip drug ...."
Taking a few calming breaths, Nugats gains some semblance of control over himself. Addressing the Venture Captain"So what does this whip do? Is it an injectable? A pill? Snort? I might turn it into a suppository before this is over!"
“Good question Bugdip. The Kortos Consortium is an interesting group. It pretends to be a legitimate merchant guild dedicated to stamping out smugglers, but it participates in its fair share of illegal activities. It is powerful enough to rival Diobel’s teriarch, or governor, Lord Avid. A fair number of prominent people in Diobel are in the Kortos Consortium’s pockets, or are prominent members of the guild themselves. If possible, try not to get on the group’s bad side.
“As far as identification, I’ve not heard one way or another. I suspect they have a way to ID others in their group, much like we have wayfinders, or the snakes have their symbol. Keep your eyes peeled… or licked, as it were, and you just may notice something. That would be good information to have, should we need to deal with Kortos agents in the future.”
Valsin stands with his legs spread slightly wider than shoulder width, straight backed and his hands clasped behind his back as he looks across the group in front of him, studying them.
”As for you Edgar,” Valsin pauses, staring hard at the man who hides his face.
I picked him because of his file, short though it may be. Something about that hat… Where do I remember seeing that hat?
The pause is uncomfortably long. Finally, Valsin breaks from his reverie. ”Yes. I have read the note and the list of tasks. You are correct in your assumption, I do not care which of the three tasks you decide to attempt. The ultimate goal here is to disrupt the Aspis Consortium, and prevent them from digging in so close to home. While the methods are entirely up to you, my expectation is that you represent the Pathfinder Society in a manner befitting our organization. Delroya sounds desperate for us to prove ourselves as an organization worthy of her trust. I already know that to be the case. You must prove that with your actions.”
To Edgar’s relief, Valsin turns his attention away from him as Nugats pipes up. ”We didn’t, and wouldn’t have even known of the drug’s existence, except for Delroya’s letter and her clandestine efforts. The only information I have on that I have given to you. Should you choose to raid the laboratory, I expect you will find everything you need about what it is, and what it is capable of.”
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"Thank you, Mister Valsin," Bugdip bows - glad that he'd read the man's name before and no longer embarrassingly referred to him as 'Veils-in' - and continues, "It will be hard not to anger the Core-toes Consortium if they stand to gain from this deal. Is there perhaps something we could offer them instead? Some way of turning them towards our side instead of the Ass-piss Consortium? Maybe we should call ourselves the 'Pathfinder Consortium' to make us sound more like them."
Bugdip is genuine in his suggestion. He has absolutely no idea of the scope or consequences of changing the name of an organization such as this. Names are such strange things to the small grippli who smells ever so faintly of puréed dragonflies.
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Glarifyur always knew that as a Paladin of Torag, he is expected to be well-spoken and the first to speak up. Although he is plenty capable, he usually preferred to lead in battle and follow in parley. Always seemed like the "Venture Captains" of the world looked past him for the answers; maybe if he were a bit taller...
"First and third task seem acceptable to me, but mark my words: there's deception in the earth beneath this Magali Delroya's feet. We are being set up and some past association with you, good sir Valsin, is her in. What is the nature of your past with this woman? You seem to trust her in spite of your better judgement."
Glarifyur adjusts his stance to confer an air of confidence. However, at that moment he loses track of the cadence of the swaying ship and stumbles slightly to the right. He immediately rights his stance and stares at Venture Captain Valsin expectantly.
Valsin turns to regard the armored paladin, his face turning a slight shade of pink as he tightens his lips and narrows his eyes.
I picked these pathfinders. Deep breath. This is part of why Glarifyur was chosen.
The Venture Captain takes a deep, calming breath, stretching every bit of his willpower to see the pathfinder's concerns from their point of view. Eventually, his shoulders sag just a bit.
"You are not wrong, dwarf. This is something I have considered."
“I met Magali several years ago, when she was barely a grown woman. It must have been just before she joined the Aspis Consortium. She’s a wanderer, never comfortable in one place for long. I saw great potential in her as a Pathfinder, but she always preferred to work alone and felt that the society was a poor fit. Had I known that she would wind up with the Aspis Consortium, I would have put more effort into recruiting her.”
Valsin turns away from the pathfinders for a moment, staring over the railing of the gently rocking ship, out onto the busy docks. This moment doesn't last long as he beings to feel a twinge of frustration at the disorganized chaos in front of him, so he turns back once more.
After standing still for so long, the Venture Captain begins to pace in front of the gathered pathfinders. "I said earlier that I hand picked you for this assignment. You are all new, but have shown remarkable resilience in your dealing with the ambush launched on you by the rogue Deandre Dulay. Should this all prove to be a ruse, I have faith in your ability to handle things. Remember, while the Kortos Consortium may have methods to keep their illicit activites under the radar, neither they or the snakes are above the law in Diobel."
"You may keep your paranoia, Glarifyur, son of Durifyur of the Egdoras clan," Valsin addresses the dwarf in the honorific, showing a surprising amount of respect for a recruit, "It may yet keep you alive. But I feel in my gut that Magali is not deceiving us, else I would not take the risk of sending you into that city."
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"Aye, Glarifyur! Well spoken, my friend," Edgar says with a surprising amount of enthusiasm backing up his words. "I stand by you, sir. The first and third tasks. Let us help keep Magali Delroya from the watchful and dangerous eye of these organizations, especially if she aims to help the pathfinder society... We owe her that much, at least."
"And let's learn all we can about this drug, and expose the Aspis Consortium for the amoral snakes that they are," he continues, still speaking pationately. "Investigating this drug should be breeze with someone such as Nugats at our side, and we get to actively undermine those snakes while we're at it."
"As for the tasks... we're at the docks, so why don't we do that one first. I like ships. They are pretty."
Valsin stops his pacing to turn to Ifran, frozen in place with a single raised eyebrow.
"You are going to Diobel. We are in Absalom."
He continues to pause for a moment until he realizes that Ifran still has not made the connection.
"So you’ve never been down the coast, hmm?" Valsin emphasizes for effect, hoping to drive the point home on why they were meeting on the docks to begin with instead of the Grand Lodge. "Diobel is often called the ‘Doorway to Absalom.’ Shipments to and from Absalom often go through Diobel, which has lower taxes than Absalom. Trade with Diobel is an important part of Absalom’s economy—which is why we must tread lightly around the Kortos Consortium, given their influence in Diobel.”
"Investigating this drug should be breeze with someone such as Nugats at our side, and we get to actively undermine those snakes while we're at it."
"I like where your head is at, young man." Who's face I still struggle to put with.... oh... yes. Now I remember. He was the one who was late, and ran off, to frightened to answer for his tardiness. Better give him the stern stare...
Valsin's face turns from one of fatherly affirmation to one of stern rebuke in a flash.
That was dumb, now I am confusing the boy. No wonder they all say I'm such a curmudgeon. Oh well. Long live the legend of Valsin the hardass."
From behind them a large bell begins to ring in a pattern of short and long tones. Captain Zarah Zendrani steps up to the group, addressing Valsin directly. "You've got five minutes to get off the ship, or you're coming with us," she says curtly, then walks briskly away, shouting orders as she goes.
Valsin turns back to the group and takes a step towards the gangplank. "Any more question? It looks like my time is short, and you will be off soon. Get 'em in while you can."
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As Valsin's incredibly stern and penetrating gaze falls upon the youth his blood runs cold in an instant and it feels as though his knees have begun wobbling so much, and all at once, that they might strike together. As Edgar's cheeks begin to flush red with embarrassment, he is greatful the scarf will block most sight of this scarlet telltale. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he tilts his head downward until the protruding fabric of the solid hat's brim blocks all sight of his face, thus protecting Edgar from the crippling, sapping state of the venture-captain.
Still got it Valsin thinks with a smug smirk on his face.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"Oh.. that's right. I forgot, Venture-Captain. I am sorry." The other Pathfinders can see a tear or two in his eye, "I will try and do better next time, sir. Take better notes. Diobel we shall go, but since we'll be in a ship, should we stay near the docks? "
Ifran starts taking notes in his very deliberate handwriting.. 'Sail to Diobel. Break up alliance between Aspis and Kortos Consortiums. Don't screw up.'
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Glarifyur, emboldened by Venture Captain Valsin's show of respect, steps forward and reaches out to place a gauntleted hand on Valsin's shoulder.
"Redemption is a path rough-hewn, but worthy. Even the hottest ember turns to coal, and can one day be a diamond. By Torag, I will help to create a bridge to Magali and let her decide to cross it or burn it."
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The youth stands with his head bowed and listens to the others debating the tasks at hand. Without raising his gaze, he cannot help but question their direction to himself, Magali Delroya is risking much to pass along this information to us, and even more so by agreeing to meet. Yet, we are not going to repay her gesture by helping to keep her identity and role in this mission a secret? Edgar turns slightly, looking to the gathered companions but never raising the hat's brim enough to allow eye contact with Valsin. It seems keeping preventing both the Aspis Consortium and Kortos Consortium from learning of her involvement in aiding us would allow her use later as a sleeper agent for the pathfinder society...
Unless of course, this is a terrible ruse on Magali Delroya's part, he wonders now. Then we would be risking our lives to keep her secret for naught...
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Bugdip jumps on board the ship, waving goodbye (a little prematurely) to Valsin.
"Deckhand Bugdip at your service and ready to help, Captain Zen-Drain-Eye!" he blurts out enthusiastically to Captain Zarah Zendrani, "Shall I unfurl the sails a little to take advantage of this breeze, or would you like me on the rudder? I can raise the anchor or man the oars, too. I learned a lot about sailing on the journey back from the Kaava lands. Though I do suspect they just wanted to keep my hands busy and my mouth shut. I can't imagine why..."
In his eagerness to help, Bugdip manages to fall from a sprit and hangs upside down with the rigging around his leg. "Umm... I'm sure I did better last time. Help please?"