Commence to dotting. We'll get started once everyone has checked in at the Discussion thread.
Faction Missions are no longer given out, as of Season 5 of the Pathfinder Society. Soon, there will be Primary and Secondary missions for all the old adventures. But for now, you'll get full Prestige Points just for completing the mission and surviving to the end. That will be the basis for this game.
Nonetheless, I present you with the original Faction missions. You can do them or not as you will.
Warm greetings on this cold Desnu morn. This city’s chill and squalor does not agree with me, and each day I see the Council bow
to slavers and oppressors, my heart sickens. We must do better, we can do better. It all begins with you, my friend.
We have become interested in a man named Yargos Gill. Although he’s not much to look at, Yargos is an important voice
of the common man in Absalom’s underclass. He is well educated, but he prefers to live among the downtrodden in that
wasteland called the Puddles District. He’s also more virtuous than most give him credit for. The Eagle Knights of Andoran
have identified Yargos as important to Absalom’s future destiny as a free and independent state of the people. If you find Yargos,
above all, make sure you keep him alive. Please do your best to aid him thereafter, and secretly pass along the message that the
Eagle Knights will be there for him when he needs them. Purport yourself well and do nothing to besmirch our reputation as
beacons of freedom. One day Yargos will be vitally important to the future of Absalom. We wish you to gain his trust so as best
to aid him in his cause.
Many thanks for your assistance in this matter. As always, I am in your debt.
Sincerely,
Captain Colson Maldris
Asmodeus’s dark blessings upon you. Your service to his smoking altar does you great honor and advances the glory of Cheliax. Your
devotion has not gone unnoticed, and I must say I am intrigued by you. I have a task of dire import—I have chosen to entrust it to you.
Her Majestrix’s interest is piqued concerning the reports of strange undead roaming Absalom’s notorious slum—the Puddles
District. Early reports suggest that these strange mist-walkers are animated not by necromancy alone, but by the power of oaths given
during their former lives. Our diabolic patrons decree these strange undead merit further study, in case this knowledge leads to a
new source of power over mortal souls. Your mission is to obtain an intact skull of one of these undead assassins and secret it back to
Cheliax. You must also uncover just what was the oath that these undead killers took.
If you succeed, a slew of fresh souls will be tied to Asmodeus’s great purpose. As always, keep your mission in utmost confidence—tell
no one. Your service to the Dark One is best done in whispers and shadows. Report back to me when it is done, and I shall reward you,
perhaps with an invitation to my next exclusive party… or better yet, a private audience in the boudoir. I think I might enjoy that.
Achingly Yours,
Paracountess Zarta Dralneen
I trust this correspondence finds you well. As always, you have the gratitude of my ancestors and myself for your continued
service to Sothis. Dark times are upon this city, and undead walk the streets in the misty hours of the night. Worse, a spectre
from our past also rears its head.
Centuries ago, Osirion’s food supply was plagued by a horrible poison called Gut Wither, a war-manufactured toxin brought over
from Qadira to further weaken Osiron’s delicate agricultural base. To protect the populace, the then ruling sultans waged a lengthy
campaign to ensure that Gut Wither was stamped out and the secrets of its creation were destroyed. Our seers have advised that
whoever these undead, mist-walking assassins within Absalom are, they somehow have obtained a chest containing a small supply
of Gut Wither, perhaps left over from a forgotten age. I’m asking ask you to track down their supply and bring us a vial of this terrible
concoction. The famine days cannot return to our gloried land.
In All Sincerity,
Amenopheus, The Sapphire Sage
Your rarified services are once again required. I shall not bore you with obfuscation or frivolity. We have acted against Absalom
on myriad occasions and failed with each passing stroke. Apparently this new terror of undead in that ever so deplorable Puddles
District is a remnant of one of our more infamous disappointments.
The undead’s weaponry, distinctive curved sickles, match the sickles once used by Black Echelon. Black Echelon was the rather
ostentatious name of our hidden agents and saboteurs ordered to attack Absalom from within its walls as part of the “Silent Tide,”
an embarrassing and ill-conceived invasion plan we hatched several centuries ago. In advance of the failed attack, we hid a secret
cache of magic wands somewhere within the heart of Absalom for Black Echelon’s use when the time was right. As the Silent Tide
turned out to be an utter boondoggle, the wand cache was never claimed. We believe Absalom’s authorities never uncovered the
cache and the valuable wands remain hidden, their location now lost to time.
With this return of Black Echelon from beyond the pale, we are calling upon you to keep an eye out for any clues as to the
whereabouts of the wand cache. Relay your findings back to us so that we can send a second team to recover the wands. It is believed
that a map to the wand cache was hidden on the last page of a codebook that contained the secret signals to direct the Silent Tide
invasion. If you can find the book, steal or copy the last page and bring it to me.
Do so and you shall be suitably rewarded.
My Sincere Gratitude,
Baron Jacquo Dalsine
Your boots squash with fetid water as you plod through the Puddles. A thick fog hangs in the air, seeming almost to caress the flesh with an unnatural chill. As you stand outside the Soggy Piper in a foot and a half of brackish brine, you try to recall what was so damned important to demand your presence in the half flooded slum during Absalom’s rainy season. You remember your meeting at the Lodge just a few hours earlier with your Venture-Captain, Adril Hestram.
A bear of a man with only a few teeth remaining in his head, he motioned you into the meeting hall with a casual wave of his grizzled hand. The human captain outweighs most of Absalom’s half-orcs, and though a layer of beefy blubber coats his frame, those of you who have tangled with him in the Lodge sparring ring know that beneath this thin veneer of fat lies nothing but solid, steely sinew. Adril’s wild beard wags to the ponderous shake of his massive head as he examines a scrap of ancient parchment on the table before raising his eyes to greet your gaze and speaking:
“Come in then, friends, and thank you for answering my summons so swiftly. The society is in need. An old and quite penniless historian, a bespectacled wag-beard by the name of Yargos Gill has recently made a discovery in an old archive that we have a great interest in obtaining: an ancient codebook, left behind in the wake of one of Taldor’s many failed attempts at invasion. This several-hundred-year-old text would prove an excellent addition to our collection, and must be preserved."
“Yargos makes his home in ‘The Puddles,’ Absalom’s poorest district, suffering from a well-known reputation as a haven for lowlifes. Following an earthquake ten years ago, parts of the Puddles now rest below sea level, resulting in frequent and untimely flooding. Those who can afford not to live there—don’t."
“The district is the stomping ground of pimps, harlots, addicts, knifers, and hoards of unseemly derelicts. It’s never been a kind place, but recent reports reveal some new nameless terror on her waterlogged streets. Several persons claim to have seen cloaked, skeletal-like figures marching through an unnatural fog. Ill tidings indeed. Tracking down Yargos is now a priority—--lest some yellow-toothed thug cut him down, or one of these strange wraiths carry him beyond the pale. Find him, fellow Pathfinders, and find the codebook. Your exploits will be recorded in the Chronicles if you succeed.”
The memory fades as a fresh deluge of cold seawater rounds a bend in the lane and assaults your knees. After searching for Yargos at his favorite eatery, the Soggy Piper, you learned you just missed him. According to the Piper’s staff, a gang of dangerous young tattooed toughs arrived ahead of you. They grabbed Yargos and several of his friends from their dinner table and dragged them to a nearby cliff at the edge of the Puddle District. The watch was called, but they will arrive too late, as they often do in the Puddles, when they bother to venture there at all.
It is early evening, the first Wealday of the month of Desnus, an old man is about to face some awful fate at the sea cliff known as Torsen’s Maw, and you are no closer to finding the codebook Adril sent you for.
ACT I: THE DROWNING DEPTHS
Six brash young toughs covered with tattoos of vicious, snarling dogs are prodding four terrified older men off the edge of a cliff into the sea. The prisoners are shackled together in a line with heavy chains, which shall surely drag them to the sea floor in short order should they tumble from the cliff’s edge into the churning waters below.
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[The "beach" on that map is in fact a cliff 35' above the ocean. The prisoners are labeled 1-4, the thugs A-F. They look like they're just about to toss the prisoners overboard.]
Everyone roll initiative!
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The mud-covered tengu is quite at home amidst the sodden and wet Puddles District, and of all those walking its streets he seems the happiest. He makes an attempt to wander through every small patch of water, occasionally pausing to allow his froggy companion time to swim around in it. He leaves a wet and muddy trail wherever he goes, and the water just serves to make the stinking swamp stench that lingers about his frame even more pronounced.
When word has it that some thugs are beating up the guy they're supposed to talk to, Mikhaere merely rolls his eyes. When they actually find said thugs doing... god knows what, he's even less impressed.
"YO. GUYS. I STRONGLY suggest you STOP that," he calls out to the thugs, tone of voice more matter-of-fact than anything.
Initiative Order:
- Donkey Teeth (19)
- Garret (18) (Surprised)
- Mikhaere (12) (Surprised)
- War Hounder thugs (10)(Surprised)
- Rekkr (5)
This is a surprise round, as the War Hounders are in fact surprised to see you. Garret and Mikhaere are also surprised. So, Donkey Teeth and Rekkr only, take one standard or move action, please.
Evil Eye Hex -2 attacks (DC 14) on Goon E.
Roaring a wordless challenge, Rekkr charges across the clifftop and brings his greatsword down at the hapless thug before him, cleaving the man's shoulder down to the breastbone. Covered in a spray of arterial blood, the berserker roars at his next victim.
Meanwhile, little Donkey Teeth glares at that next thug and something about the wayang's baleful gaze shakes the man's confidence.
Donkey Teeth, Garret (and friend) and Mikhaere, go!
Donkey Teeth glares at another thug, who pays him no mind. Garret lobs a ball of acid that pops and sizzles in the sand. Garret's eidolon springs forward and tears one of the War Hounders limb from limb with terrifying ferocity. Mikhaere rakes his claws across the chest and arms of one of the thugs.
One of the surviving thugs hurls one of the chained victims off the cliff. The man screams and goes over, his chains dragging the others with him. The last man on the chain, a middle-aged man with quick or lucky reflexes, manages to grab onto the edge of the cliff and hold on, suspending all above the rocks below, but it doesn't look as though he will be able to hold on for long!
Another thug moves to attack the eidolon, slashing the demon with his Dog Claws. Two move to flank Mikhaere, and he lashes out, pecking one sharply for his troubles. That War Hounder repays the attack with a brutal backhand against the Tengu's shoulder.
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What's that old adage about trapping a jaguar in a corner? Mikhaere can't recall it, but he certainly feels it, summoning forth primal energy and lashing out with a flurry of angry claws and pecks. The jerk that managed to club him over the head gets the full brunt of his fury, specks of blood flying everywhere.
Rekkr dashes past the War Hounders and grabs the man's wrists, arresting his fall.
Garret's ball of acid burns only the stone of the cliff, but Machaero's onslaught quickly slays one of the War Hounders.
Aroused, Mikhaere bites one thug on the neck while clawing the other. Both drop to the ground mortally injured.
The last War Hounder thug runs pell-mell along the cliff and out of the story.
Rekkr is left holding four men over the cliff. He might be able to use some help.
[Rekkr can make strength checks to haul men up, one at a time. Up to two others can aid him.]
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With his assailants put to rest, Mikhaere saunters over to Rekkr, somehow managing to keep the chain of prisoners from falling over the edge. Rather than help in a more traditional way, the tengu druid's tongue shoots out of his mouth, much longer than one would ever expect to come out of his beak. He wraps his tongue around the waist of each prisoner and attempts to help drag them upward.
Okay. The team combines its efforts to haul Yargos Gill (the first man over the side) and the other three victims up to the clifftop. Heroes and victims lay panting from the effort.
"Thank you!" gasps one.
"Thank the gods you arrived in time! says another.
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Garret eventually recovers enough to speak. "Which of you is Yargos Gill?" When that man responds, he encourages the others to be on their way.
Once they've departed, he speaks to Yargos. He's polite enough, but sees the old man as a means to an end - he doesn't waste a lot of time with unimportant conversation. "So, it seems we arrived just in time, and dealt with your captors quite soundly. With that unpleasantness behind us, let us move forward with the reason we were searching for you, shall we? We have heard from our superiors that you have found something of interest to the Pathfinders. Are you able, in your current state, to tell us where we might find it?"
"I am Yargos Gill," says one. "You must mean the codebook? I don't have it anymore."
He explains by telling his story.
"Eight hundred years ago, a hidden armada of ships from Taldor floated off the coast of the Isle of Kortos like a thousand locusts, waiting for the signal to invade Absalom. The plan was simple, but deadly: When the misty weather of Desnus took hold, a fifth column of infiltrators known as Black Echelon would weaken strategic defense points and destroy Absalom’s warning system from within. Once their bloody mayhem was complete, the hidden saboteurs planned to signal the fleet, welcoming them to lay siege to a city now brought to its knees."
"Prearranged signal lights were prepared for each phase of the offensive. A red flashing light was the sign for Black Echelon to poison Absalom’s granary. A violet light with three pulses was the signal for a prearranged team to destroy the city’s bell towers, and so on. But when the mists of Desnus descended, the prearranged signal lights never appeared. Unbeknownst to the hidden strike teams, the leaders of the Black Echelon infiltration cell were discovered and assassinated by brave heroes of Absalom."
"The signal lanterns lay dark, and the rest of Black Echelon sat idle. Several hours later, the fleet’s hiding place was discovered. A quick counterattack by Absalom’s navy ambushed the would-be invasion force and Taldor’s armada was destroyed to the last mast. In the coming weeks, Absalom’s constabulary rooted out the remaining hidden members of Black Echelon and put every last one to the sword."
"The failed invasion mission, called the Silent Tide, would have amounted to little more than a cautionary footnote in a textbook of naval battles save for one crucial detail: Prior to entering Absalom, each member of the Black Echelon cell swore an ancient oath, known as the Binding Word."
"Black Echelon pledged to fulfill their duties, no matter the barrier, no matter the cost. And as recent events have begun to demonstrate, in this case, the power of the Binding Word compels these deadly saboteurs from beyond the pale."
"When I acquired a copy of the ancient codebook detailing the signals for the Silent Tide, I replicated them... on a lark. I soon watched in horror as Black Echelon rose from the dead and began to fulfill the tasks the spies swore to complete so very long ago. Even worse, the marines of the massive armada that now rest on the sea floor have also sworn the Binding Word. Once Black Echelon finishes its final task, the invasion force will rise and the Silent Tide will roll across the city, bringing death to all of Absalom!"
"Recognizing my own foolishness, I tried to alert the city and avert disaster. But before I could hurl the codebook into the sea to abort the Silent Tide once and for all, a young crime lord named Nessian intervened."
"Nessian had a 'better plan' for the codebook. He intends to manipulate the undead operatives and take advantage of the disruption their sabotage wreaks. As the bearer of the codebook, Nessian alone knows the lantern signal to abort. The codebook is his chance to blackmail the populace as he wishes and finally secure his place in Absalom’s underworld."
"Absalom is about to be invaded from beyond the grave. I'm afraid you're the only thing standing between Nessian and his lantern lights, before the launch of the Silent Tide."
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While Yargos talks (and boy does he talk!), Mikhaere will attempt to break the locks connecting the men, pulling and tugging on the chains until they snap off.
Though the druid appears not to be listening, every now and again during his task he pipes up with a question.
"So, these thugs here were lackeys of Nessian, then? What did you lot--" he says to the other three apart from Yargos, "--do to get put on his bad books?"
"Do you know where Nessian is now? It sounds like the best way to stop this Silent Tide thing is to go get rid of that fool right away."
"Oh, and Yargos?" Mikhaere looks up at the old man with an arched, feathery brow. "No more messing about with weird things you read in books, alright? Ancient secrets are best to be left to rest. Except by trained professionals, of course."
"They had the misfortune to be dining with me when Nessian's War Hounders came to take me," says Yargos. "They were being vicious and thorough, I suppose. Gentlemen, my sincere apologies for getting you into this."
The other men nod. Some grumble.
"No one knows exactly where Nessian makes his home," says Gill. "But I've heard it's somewhere in the Siphons, the sewers under the Puddles."
Just as Garret asks his question, Gill's jaw drops. "Look!" he says, pointing to a red light flashing from a distant building deep within the city.
“Nessian!” shouts Yargos. “He’s signaling Black Echelon—the undead! Six flashes of red—I remember that signal… By the gods! That’s the granary! Nessian has sent those monsters to poison the granary! C’mon! I don’t know how, but we’ve got to stop them—we’re the only ones who know what’s happening.”
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Garret nods at Mikhaere, then motions to Yargos. "You'll be coming with us until we find this codebook. You're the only one that might have a chance to know what the codes are, and where we need to be." He starts to run off, then stops himself and looks back. "Of course, we'll handle the undead, yes?"
With that, he turns once more and runs as fast as his short legs will carry him. Come on, Machaero - you go on ahead and scout the way.
ACT II: GUARDIANS OF THE GRAIN
"You know who might know more about Nessian's location?" says Yargos on the way to the granary, "There's an information broker in the Puddles named Grandmaster Torch. He'd know, if anyone would."
As you approach the granary, you find an eerie cold fog has suddenly descended on the adjoining streets and alley ways. When you arrive at the massive granary, you find the three guards posted to protect the food depot are already dead.
"Black Echelon intends to lace the city’s reserve grain supply with a foul and forgotten poison called Gut Wither," explains Yargos. "In the event of a siege, Absalom would be left without its granary and the city could face the threat of mass starvation in the coming months."
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"The poison just about cleaned out Osirion way back when," Mikhaere adds while moving up to the door of the granary, "but it was supposed to be completely destroyed. If they have a left-over, hidden supply of it, it could be real bad... and not just for Absalom either."
He presses his feathered head up against the door and listens for what's beyond. If it doesn't seem immediately dangerous, Mikhaere pulls the doors open.
Mikhaere hears nothing and opens the door. The doors, having already been forced open, swing in easily to reveal a large antechamber that smells sharply of grain dust. Two sets of large double doors lead further into the building. The set on the right stands ajar.
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Mikhaere freezes almost immediately after pushing the door open, a look of disgust crossing his face. He covers his beak with one feathered arm, making his speech somewhat muffled.
"There's a trail of blood here. It's headed out through those open doors."
Still covering his beak from the smell, Mik sneaks up to the open doors and tries to see what's beyond.