After spending the last three years as Initiates, finally your dreams have been realized and last week you went through Confirmation. You are now an official Field Operative for the Pathfinder Society. This last week has been spent in celebration, nursing of hangovers, and dreaming of missions to come. Upon returning to your room this morning, you found a slip of paper on the floor, obviously slid under the door while you were away. You pick up the piece of paper and see that it is addressed to you. It reads. Pathfinder, congratulations on your Confirmation. Venture-Captain Valsin requires you to report to his office at ten bells, sharp. Do not be late.
You faintly remember nine bells ringing sometime ago and decide you had better hurry down to his office. Upon arriving at Valsin’s office, you find the room abuzz with new recruits talking in excited tones. The manservant comes over to you and advises you that Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin will be here shortly.
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A man of average height buried in plain woolen clothes takes a spot against the wall. His heritage a menagerie of different traits from many encountered throughout the world, from dirty blonde hair loosely secured into a ponytail so that when he leans a certain way hair still dips in front his face to the thin eyes of a tein man. He carries little on him and makes no gestures as to whether he commands the elements or calls for the gods miracles. His gear consists of a backpack and a small messenger bag and a few pouches as well as a dagger that most assuredly came from a bargain bin.
Many have approached this man to strike up conversation but he merely touches his hand to his chest bows slightly and speaks barely above a whisper, From a stranger to a stranger.
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Next into the waiting room is a hulking Chelish man, clothed in only gray monks robes that depict a black chain of 3 links and a black mask that gradients to gray around the edges. His face behind it is clearly heavily scarred from past fights. On his wrists are a set of bracers that have links to be attached to chains, yet have none. To those who know anything of Nidal, he is a Silent Enforcer; the force of monks that keep Nisroch safe from criminals.
He stands near another wall and simply waits.
"..."
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Entering the room, pacing nervously, a young elvan woman flips frantically through what one would assume is a spellbook. She looks not unlike a student before a big exam, trying to cram in every possible bit of knowledge before the big moment is upon her.
Incongruously to her apparent infatuation with her book, she wears a chain shirt over her clothes, and a curved blade hangs delicately from her belt, swinging back and forth with every step. The armor fits her comfortably and unobtrusively as though she is accustomed to wearing it regularly.
The rest of her clothing is fairly unspectacular, though of fairly good quality, a knee length dark leather skirt, sturdy boots, matching in colour, and a green cloth tunic, barely visible through the links of her armor.
On her back she sports a green cloak, with a brown leather knapsack overtop, the sack seems quite bulky likely carrying any supplies she might have felt necessary for her newly found purpose.
Her black hair falls unfettered down her back, and framing her face. Every now and then, between flipping pages, she pauses to brush unruly strands of hair from her emerald eyes, which continuously dart from one word to another.
She occasionally scans the room, though she appears mostly inattentive of her surroundings, narrowly avoiding bumping into a large oaf of a man as she enters the room.
People need to watch where they're going! -She thinks to herself. Throwing a glace quickly in the man's direction, she mumbles barely audibly "Sorry" and shrugs, smiling innocently, as she makes her way passed him.
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A thin, almost sickly looking man enters the room, his age in stark contrast to many of those around. Yet in spite of his wiry frame and advanced age, he carries what looks to be a large metal shield and wears an impressive amount of armor. Yet where one might expect a longsword or morningstar to hang on his belt, there is only a simple dagger. While this might be confusing to some, for those who recognize the symbol of Irori proudly adorning his shield and armor, his true weapon is easily guessed.
Danyn scans the room, his eyes barely open beyond the wrinkles, his expression giving off a sense of irritation and impatience.
"Ehhh yrburcha yun idz eeru gidum sevs kilt."
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Keeshe barely notices the man approach her, only catching her attention when he addresses her, she looks up from her book, visibly somewhat startled.
She lets out a nervous laugh before answering him with her elvish accent. "I know, I know, I... I just want to make sure I'm ready, for... um... well for whatever it is we're doing. I need to make sure I know the right spells, goblins don't care if you've forgotten the words to magic missile before they stab you with their little pointy goblin swords" She furrows her brow, crinkles her nose, and makes several stabbing motions with her free hand as she speaks her last sentence. Her facial expression returns to normal shortly after, as she lets her mouth form a sheepish grin.
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Tell your sister she owes me five gold a small feminine voice calls out from the hall. And tell her that I loved her so much that she's free from now on.
A small child sized woman enters the room an winks at the masked man with a sultry smile. Her wavy dark brown hair is tied back with a golden string and her black travelers outfit borders the impractical with how scantly it covers her small curvatious body. The gnome is followed by a small gray weasel who scurries up her cloak and rests on her right shoulder.
She sets her bulging brown backpack on the ground and places a light crossbow and a gnomish sized quarterstaff down next to it. I hope everyone had a good night last night she grins I know I did.
As you all mill about introducing yourselves, suddenly a figure you recognize as Ambrus Valsin, comes stalking in the shuffling through a handful of papers. He seems intent on his reading, not even seeming to acknowledge your presence as he stops at his desk. He grabs up a pen and jots down some notes before looking up and staring at you for a few long, silent moments. Then he barks.“All right, Pathfinders! Listen up. I know you are new recruits eager to make names for yourselves in the organization, but first we need to make sure you are up to snuff and won’t get yourself killed out there. I have a number of small assignments for you and your team, and it would be best if you could finish them before the day’s end. “Every day we get some doe-eyed hopeful or some sniveling bootlicker willing to do anything to join up with the Pathfinders. Most of them are good kids, but not all of them have the salt to make it in a world like this. It’s rough out there and I’m not just talking about the ruins, tombs, and wilderness Pathfinders find themselves
in on missions. We’ve got people who look down their noses at us, folks who think we squander our resources, and agents who want to take everything we have collected. This wealth of knowledge and these items of lore make us the most powerful organization on the planet. That said, since we are fractured and widespread, it’s difficult for that power to light on anything for too long. For every friend of the Society, there are two enemies. “Your first mission, to test your mettle and loyalties, sends you to meet a few people important to the Society living here in Absalom. These are other venture-captains or close allies of our organization, so follow their orders as you would mine. I’ve prepared a list of things I want you to do. They’re not arranged in any particular order of importance, but I want them all completed as quickly as possible. Only report to me once you complete them all. Included in the envelope you hold in your hands is the list, complete with the name of your contact, and directions to the meeting location.” He finishes speaking, crosses his arms, and stares quietly at the group.
Valsin arches an eye in surprise and maybe a slight bit of admiration and hands over the envelope. Well I see at least one of you have initiative.
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Alan reads the 4th task, and visibly sighs, It looks like our big friend wants us to visit the Paracountess at her estate in the Ivy District first. Well I guess we should accompany him to get the item loaned to her back. He takes a moment and shrugs, Guess we are getting the unpleasant task done first.
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Keeshe quietly but notably hurriedly closes her book, buckling it shut with its little metal clasp. She tucks the excess leather from the book's cover into her belt opposite her blade, beside her coin pouch.
She eyes the letter in Alan's hand excitedly. "Well, I think you have the answer to your question there..." She pauses, ever so briefly, as if about to give him time to answer. She then notes Alan's still outstretched hand, and remembers her manners. She takes his free hand in hers and shakes it twice quickly before letting go. "Oh right, um... nice to meet you Alan, I'm Keeshe"
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Danyn reads the letter, his eyes narrowing so much that one might wonder how he still sees. His face wrinkles and furrows into an expression of what appears to be disgust, and he hands off the letter to follow the now-leaving others, muttering as he goes.
"Wuuuuu alowdu orz chit, eze tukup aff wid vinner capinz."
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Neteafa finishes reading the letter and glances back at Ambrus, she nods and picks up her gear and jogs after the large masked man. Following the group she blurts out I'm Neteafa by the way, As she follows the group she can't help but silently consider her companions. I don't know about the big guy with the mask, after all he wants to go to some Chelish aristocrat when orphans are waiting on medicine.
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Running slightly to close the distance to #72, Keeshe lightly taps him on the shoulder, moving up beside him, then matching his pace. "Umm... you know the Ivy district is thatta way, right?" She points northeast. "I mean, that's where you wanted to go right?" She pauses again as she did when speaking to Alan, as if expecting her conversation partner to actually be able to get a word in before she hurriedly continued. "You pointed to the last task... that's the Ivy District, that's what you meant, right?..." She looks at him inquisitively before bluntly changing her own topic. "You're very quiet, anyone ever tell you that?" While a fairly accurate observation in this case (something that is quite uncommon for Keeshe), its not like she was really giving him a chance to respond...
She did hear the gnome introduce herself, and feels a bit bad not doing the same, and makes a mental note Say hello to the little woman, once I've got this damn silent human to wait up... and maybe actually go the right way!
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Stopping to to stair at the old man once again tries to figure out what hes saying... He tilts his head to the side and try's to mimic what he's saying before walking again but quickly stops.... Look at the motly crew in front of him snifs in the air for a second and states I think it's this way there's a bakery there I beleve it's just down the street.. after which he take a right a heads north east...
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The Brid man looks at inquisitively for a few min weather he trying tell if he can trust you with his secret or he's trying to come up something good is your guess... After that he stats in some of the best common you've ever heard My name is Chak-Chak "the birdman" but my friends call me Birdman although I did find it demeaning at first I've grown to accept.... What do I do? Well I'm linguistics based negoatator... Practices a little bit of valuable accusations... What parsay is you speciality?
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Nice to meet you Chak-Chak, and I'll stay close to you, you look like a good sort of person. As for me I do a few things, I used to help my mother run an inn back in my home land of Qadria, I can practice tailoring, and I from time to time work as a courtesan when I find clients I'm comfortable with. As for being a Pathfinder I practice the mystical and misunderstood powers of witchcraft. If you need any form of healing I'm here for you. Neteafa grins at Chak-Chak, I'm glad to know you.
Nateafa
Keeshe
Danyn
Chak
Alan
The party makes it way through the Foreign Quarter and eventually enter the Ivy District, noticeable by the change of architecture. The homes begin to get bigger and grander with ornate stonework and manicured landscaping. You finally arrive at the Paracountess' townhome, you stand at the bottom of the stairs leading up to pair of ornate, ebon lacquered doors wrought with gleaming silver fixtures. The is a prickly brass cone hanging from a chain, serving as a door chime.
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#72 pays little mind to the bearded child. He glances at him as they pass, but continues to say nothing.
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When at the Paracountess' Manor, he pulls the chime directly from the cone, as if he's been here before. The cone may jab at his skin, but it is nothing close to what he's endured in his life so far.
Shortly after # 72 rings the chime, the door is opened by a servant dressed in loose casual attire. He looks out on the party. Ahh the Pathfinders, my mistress will see you in her study. Follow me please. You are led through the grandiose townhome, passing through well-appointed sitting rooms, ballrooms, and a grand stairway granting a view of an elaborate study, the party finally arrives on the third floor of the house, at the door of Zarta’s personal study, which lies beyond her bedroom. Knocking upon the door and announcing his presence, the servant opens the darkly stained wooden door. A large intricate carpet dominates the marble floor in this sitting room. A chaise sits along the north wall and a desk spans the southeast corner, its chair positioned with its back to the southwest corner of the room. Three comfortable chairs are positioned around a small, low circular table. Sitting in the chair behind the desk,Paracountess Zarta Dralneen regards the group with a wry smile, putting away a few papers before standing to address you all. “Aldor, you are dismissed. Close the door behind you and attend to your other tasks.” She then turns her attention to the group. “It’s always so incredibly adorable when I see a freshfaced batch of Pathfinders. I mean, look at you scrumptious little teacakes. I could eat each and every one of you up. Well, maybe not you.” Zarta points at Danyn. “I assume this isn’t a pleasure visit since most of you are terribly overdressed for that manner of occasion, so that must mean you are here for that trinket Valsin has been nagging me about. Seems I can’t get that man around these parts anymore,” she gestures, sliding her hand down her body and widening the gesture to sweep out and across the room as if her home were a secondary thought. “On the good side, he always sends me all the precious new recruits. Many think we in Cheliax serve and worship devils, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, we use the creatures for their power. They serve us and we sculpt their power in our own interests. The world must come to terms with the order of things. People need to know their place and operate accordingly. It is the only way to make order from this world. Too many people stretch too far beyond their station, making waves and eroding the true order.”