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"Oh, that is Master Shaine's sigil..." mumbles Dreng, obviously ignoring the kobolds. "That is most peculiar!"
He looks at the kobolds, and says, "Well, I cannot disbelieve my own words, so I guess that I sent you back to be my team of ... Pathfinders. Ok, I must know better from where... I mean when, you come from."
Discussing the forthcoming mission over a light breakfast of pastries and fruit is a welcome change of routine from Venture Captain Drandle Dreng’s usual midnight requests.
“As you well know, the Society has a need for discreet ways of moving goods into and out of Absalom. Over the last year we’ve developed some reliable routes through the sewers and caverns underneath the city and this has worked well for us until recently.
“Over the last few months, a tribe of kobolds calling themselves the Sewer Dragons .. as I guess you already know... started disrupting our supply with traps and ambushes. We know of several tribes of kobolds beneath Absalom, and generally, they are only a nuisance, but these have proved particularly troubling. They have blocked a few vital deliveries of late and some Pathfinders have disappeared. The Decemvirate is starting to get concerned. In fact, the Pathfinders I sent to find out what happened are among the ones missing.”
“I need you to track down these Sewer Dragons and resolve this problem. I would prefer you make an effort to negotiate a truce of some sort with these... ahem... pests. While I currently have little respect for the reptilian creatures who plague our sewers, I suspect if we exterminate them, some other threat will fill in the void they leave behind.
”I am guessing that you four are proof that the Sewer Dragons can be contr... rehab... dealt... I mean negotiated with.”
Dreng pauses a moment to finish eating a peach, then continues. “ Since, apparently, things have been changed from your history, it is possible that the Sewer Dragons will not be where you expect them. You could wander around the sewers for days and not find one of these Sewer Dragons.
“Fortunately, I have found a resource for you. A few years ago they hired a Taldan scholar by the name of Emral Xarcious to tutor the tribal leader’s children. I suspect Xarcious can lead you to the Dragons.
“The Decemvirate has a shipment of antiquities coming next week and I expect this situation to be resolved by then. It’s up to you to ensure the shipment goes off with no hitches. There is no time to fool around—you need to get moving.”
The Sewer Dragons are one of the more powerful kobold tribes in the sewers of Absalom.
Kibizax,the Sewer Dragons’chief,is a powerful sorcerer with a dragon ally who blasts the tribe’s foes to dust with lightning.
The Sewer Dragons have a skilled trapmaster who is sought a er by merchants and the wealthy in Absalom
proper. It’s rumored that some of his most clever traps guard House Morilla and other noble resources.
The Sewer Dragons’ chief is old and said to be planning to turn the tribe over to one of his two children, the elder daughter Yiddlepode and younger son Yippitok.
Yippitok, also known as Trapmaster Tok, is the tribe’s trap crafter and a powerful alchemist.
About a month ago Xarcious disappeared. The apartment where he lived was abandoned in a hurry. The day before he disappeared, he was seen arguing loudly with Creeley Greeves, a moneylender and bookie from the Puddles.
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Engashez, while stuffing her bag and face with melons and other soft fruit, perks up at the mention of Emral. "I fin I herr va Emraa waf baa wif hif goh." Taking a moment to swallow before continuing, she adds "Maybe we should check his bookie! Master of Wines, did you import these Mwangi Musk melons all the was from the Kaava Lands? They are Downright Delightful! I haven't had anything quite so delightful before!"
"You know why the Sewer Dragons are called that, right? Our Benevolent Leader, Kibizax, has earned the trust of a True-True Dragon! Of my own color and Heritage!" Engashez, pausing for a moment, catches her error and continues. "I mean, as a Halfling, I'm half Dragon on my Mother's side!"
Fazgyn looks with narrowed eyes at the Master of Wines.
"Jeez, if you dont like us just tell us..."
He twitches his tail in annoyance. Stupid magic user.
To show them a lesson he eats as much fruit as he can.
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The Venture-Captain just sits there, sipping coffee, shaking his head at the responses from the kobolds. In reponse to Engashex, he says, "Who knows why kobolds call themselves what they do? This particular tribe likely claims some draconic heritage upon which they have built the mythos of their own superiority. Some of our agents who’ve encountered the tribe recently claim they’ve seen an actual dragon fighting with the Sewer Dragons, while other agents have found scorch marks on the walls down there."
The then realizes, once more, who he is talking to. "So, since you haven't been to one of the Pathfinder Society's briefings, before, perhaps you should think of things that you might want to know in order to complete the mission? Something that an old man, nearly in his infirmary, has forgotten to tell you?" Dreng picks up a dragonfruit, and starts to cut into it.
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"OF COURSE OUR MIGHTY LORD CAN ALSO TIME TRAVEL AND IS THE CAUSE OF THE SCORCH MARKS!" Varanog pops to life suddenly. "A LESSON I DO PLAN ON LEARNING AND EXPLOITING ON MY WAY TO THE TOP OF THE PATHFINDER SOCIETY!"
Varanog struggles onto the desk, flicking his toe to remove a bit of pastry from it.
"OLD CAPTAIN! WHAT DO YOU GIVE US TO HONOR THE SEWER DRAGONS, AS I AM SURE THEY WILL DEMAND TRIBUTE?!"
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The old rogue chuckles at Varanog. "Well, Varanog is it? We can fence goods for them and get them supplies at reasonable prices. We can also get goods into the city for them. If the rumors I hear about alchemical substances and traps are true, perhaps we can purchase items they produce for our own use in the field. Under no circumstances do the Decemvirate approve any sort of tribute or ransom, however, so if that’s all the kobolds want, you’ll need to use your most convincing tactics to get them to change their minds."
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A sudden realization flashes across the young 'Halfling's eyes "Yes Yes! Remember? We got these Wayfinders by setting up this trade, then working with the Master of Wines in the Future-Past! If we don't find and organize this trade, maybe we will have never Hat--- I mean been born! I think we should hurry to find Xarcious's Bookie! I seem to remember the name Creeley Greeves!"
Looking toward the door, almost as if ready to sprint out at any moment, she looks again at the table of melons and fruit, and shoves a few whole melons, and other snacks into her pack. "Perhaps we can offer snacks as an incentive to be Diplomatic? Do you have more of these Melons that I can take?"
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"You've got all of my supply in that haversack of yours." says Drang. "You might want to check guard station four in the Puddles district. I've heard that this Greeves fellow has been operating out of there."
The four kobolds finish raiding the breakfast table, and make their way confidently through the sewers to the Puddles district.
Despite the generally dry weather in Absalom of late, the streets in the Puddles are filled ankle-deep with muck, and the local mosquito population seems to have doubled. The Puddles is miserable even on the best days. In spite of years of neglect, the old watch station Creeley Greeves adopted as his place of business has fared quite well. The grime-covered granite walls are still solid and the rusty bars on the windows are still thick enough to hold for years to come. An old, nearly illegible sign reads “Watch Station Four.” The only door to the station is closed.
A small, waterlogged deck overlooks the sodden street of the Puddles by which you approach the abandoned watch station. The only windows into the watch station look into the cells in the back of the building, and each is 15 feet above street level and only a mere sliver that lets
in ambient light.
Fazgyn eyes the windows.
"Knowing the terrain is half the battle. I propose a Kobold tower! So we can peek inside."
Fazgyn tries to give Engashez a foot up.
"Ha! You forget my mighty creations! Behold, a side-effect of my honey bomb... honey gloves!", Athrax chugging a vial and then climbing up the wall and looking inside the window.
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As you case out the joint, you realize that the only windows are on the back of the building, and are 15' up the wall. While four kobolds could potentially make a "tower" that high, it is unlikely to work. Still, the ever confident Sewer Dragons try.
Amazingly, the four are able form up their tower for long enough for Engeshez to see intot the room. She sees what looks to be a line of cells on either side of a large room. A single desk and chair are in the middle of the room, and an older looking dog relaxes on the ground next to it. She looks up, having noticed something outside, but doesn't react beyond that.
Not entirely comfortable having a pair of feet in his face:
"Engashez, what do you see in that human building?"
"Ahhh, what is taking so long? Do we have all the intel we need?"
"A puppy? What kind of puppy? Is it a nice puppy? Can we keep it?"
"Ooh, I could use a small creature for some tes.... err, I mean, I could use a pet, yes, a pet!"
"Stupid mammal invention. Dragons have no need foor doors."
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The kobolds bang against the door, but make no progress. They then proceed to work together for a good deal of time, and then they manage to get the door open, but are greeted by a few folks.
The dog has managed to drag itself up enough to be barking. The man behind the two guards yells out, "Bonebag! What's all the racket?
"Kobolds?! What are you doing here? Why did you break through my back door?" he shouts, hands at his weapons, ready for the intruders.
"Because you did not open the door! Did you not hear us knock? How rude of you to not open it for us."
"Why would you need two doors? Very unsafe, to have another opening in your lair."
"Besides, how many people could handle this much awesomeness at their front door? No... you have the scaliest, bestest Pathfinders in here!", Athrax brazenly boasts. "Mr. Xarcious, I presume?"
He is clearly jealous of our awesomeness
"I dont know why you whould throw your anger at us. But if you are offering, I would like to pet the dog."
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Furries! He must mean the Puppy!
Engashez speaks up, puffing out her chest. "Yes, Please sic the Furry on us. As Fazgyn stated, We would like to pet the puppy. Commere Boy! Wanna play ball?" Pulling a rubber ball out of her bag, she waves it Happily at the dog. "Are you Good Boy? A Good Boy that wants to chase a Ball? Are you! Who's a Good Boy? Is it You! I bet it's you!"
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Seeing that the Puppy isn't exactly... Friendly? Engashez puts the ball back in her bag. "You know Mr. Xarcious! The one whom you engaged in conversation with? In public? A few days ago? And hasn't been seen since? Who owes you money? I mean, Certainly, it could be purely coincidental, but Dragons of our stature know the value of a Horde, and that gold isn't to be trifled with." Smiling ear to ear, with rows of Charmin, but pointy teeth, Engashez adds "Now, we don't want any trouble here, right? Perhaps you could just turn him over into our custody, and we can all be on our way. What do you say buddy, do we have an agreement?"
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With the dragon yapper laying on all of her charm, the man finally relaxes. "Ah, I see, you understand business, then. Wasn't sure your kind dabbled in the more sophisticated arts. Yeah, I know Xarcious... he owes me money. I'm holdin' him until he can manage to arrange payment for his outstandin' debt, and it ain't a little one, you know. So, youz can have 'im, but you gots to pay his debt. He owes me 250 measures. That's gold to you folk. You come up with da cash, you can haves him. K?"
Athrax whispers to the others in Draconic.
"What? Us pay ransom to this bigfoot?! And we were told the Decemvirate doesn't pay ransom or tribute! Perhaps he needs to learn what the penalty is for messing with the Sewer Dragons!"
Athrax's more sinister side shows as a cruel smile curls on his scaly lips.
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Athrax pouts that no one wants to share in the responsible educating of the miscreants, but nods when Engashez plies upon the guilt of the Society.
"I got 110 of the measures he wants; so I get to name the dog. I'll call him... Test Subject #7!"