Having arrived on assignment in Katapesh only days ago, you have received an urgent message from Venture-Captain Wulessa Yuul requesting your immediate presence at her headquarters. Ripped from your previous duties, you anxiously await the Venture-Captain's arrival in a private meeting room of the Farseer Tower.
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A half-elf sits somewhat glumly, slumped over with head in hand. He sits back in his chair and pulls the ocarina hanging around his neck up to his mouth to play, but with the sound of the first shrill note he instantly abandons it and his head once more with a grimace.
His eye's shoot open with realization before he swings his foot onto the table in front of him. Out from his boot he pulls a tiny flask that he drains in a single gulp.
The color rushes back to his face as Khakil is rejuvenated. [b]"Ah! Nothing like a little hair of the dog to rally oneself back to action,"[b] he says, crossing his other leg atop the first.
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Khakil cocks his head to the side and eyes the dwarf with a grin.
"Ahh-Well, I do so believe The Accidental God would be ashamed if I denied you a quenching!"
The bard unstraps his other boot and tosses it towards Skybek. Another full flask adorned with a tankard symbol lays at the bottom.
He raises the first flask towards Skybek. "I know how much a wee sip is to a dwarf. That amount should do you better!" he says with a wink.
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A brown furred shaggy dog lies on the ground in a patch of sun from the window. It raises its head to observe the exchange between bard and cleric, then slowly gets to its feet, form shifting as it rises until an equally shaggy druid dressed in armor of leafs and patched leather stands in its place.
Cott yawns and stretches then walks to the table and joins his companions.
"Have we EVER started a mission without you hungover? I can't think of an instance. Just as well, it'd probably be bad luck at this point to break with tradition."
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"I simply like to pay tribute to my god often. Least I made the briefing this time. Cheers, wild-man." He takes another swig. "I'd offer you some, but I know you prefer the vampire diet."
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He raises the first flask towards Skybek. "I know how much a wee sip is to a dwarf. That amount should do you better!" he says with a wink.
"Aye, Ahh must admit, yae warm mae heart tae hear yae speak with such respect fer Mr. Cailean. I've journeyed wid many a Pathfinder, but rarely dae Ahh see them pull oot another flask oot o' their boot tae offer a thirsty dwarf a wee dram. Yae've just gained yerself a spot in mae book, mae friend. Ahh'll be sure tae protect yae first and foremost in this wee adventure we are aboot tae embark upon."
"Tell me, " Skybek whispers to Khakil, "Does the wee dug shaped shag a muffin like tae toast the day wid a dram while we're adventurin or is he one o' those holy puritan like folk?"
Striding into the private meeting room at the famous Farseer Tower in exotic Katapesh, Venture-Captain Wulessa Yuul wastes no time commencing her briefing.
"This has all the makings of a magnificent embarrassment," she begins sourly. "The Grand Lodge recently sent a delegation to the mansion house of Temel Passad in Kerse. Passad is an enormously wealthy devotee of the Prophecies of Kalistrade, and he happens to possess the only known copy of the Mutani Manual of Martial Mastery in the Inner Sea region. The delegates were tasked with obtaining this rare tome, by either purchasing or leasing it.
"By all accounts, Passad is a difficult man, but the delegation proved... stupendously inadequate to the task. Not only did they fail to secure the manual, but they also managed to grossly insult the merchant. Two of the representatives were manhandled off the property and taunted by Passad that under no circumstances would he part with the Mutani Manual unless the Society could earn it, challenging us to take it from a hidden location among his many holdings throughout the region. The third delegate, who happens to be one of the foremost experts on all things Tian, was detained by Passad for what he termed 'an extended conversation on the finer points of ambassadorial etiquette.' He’s invoked an obscure Druman statute involving foreign embassies, making this kidnapping perfectly legal in his government’s eyes."
Yuul grinds her teeth in frustration for a moment. "The Mutani Manual holds priceless information about the myriad martial arts styles practiced across all of Tian Xia, and is vital to a number of ongoing research projects being undertaken at the Grand Lodge. Harmidio Besai, the kidnapped negotiator, is one of the lead experts on several of those studies, and we need him back alive. Unfortunately, we do not know which of Passad's many holdings across the Inner Sea currently houses the Mutani Manual, which houses Besai, or if the two are held together. Investigators have identified 12 manors across the Inner Sea that are likely candidates, and strike teams will be hitting each one tomorrow morning. You will be hitting the one known as Ghenett Manor, just down the river, 50 miles west in central Katapesh. My contacts in the markets here have talked of much activity there recently, which is odd because Passad visits perhaps three or four days out of the year, so I believe that Ghenett Manor may hold one of our two objectives if not both. A barge will take you take you there a few hours from now.
"Do as little damage to the property as possible--we’re not vandals, after all. Also, take nothing else of worth from the place. We’re not common thieves. I cannot stress this strongly enough. Given our already ample embarrassment with Passad, please don’t add to that dishonor by making off with the man’s silverware or his grandmother’s brooch, for Abadar’s bloody sake. No doubt the villa is a sumptuous and tempting target, but you must keep this in the forefront of your minds: the tome and the scholar are all that matter. Everything else is a distraction. The Decemvirate will take a special interest in your conduct on this assignment."
Yuul pauses for a moment, the look of consternation returning to her face. "Lastly, we have reason to believe that others are in pursuit of the Mutani Manual, including agents of the Aspis Consortium. Be wary! Under no circumstances can the book fall into the hands of a rival organization.
"Now, do you have any questions?"
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"Ahh've got a few wee quetions, Venture Captain." Skybek speaks up. "First, daes Temel actually gie us permission tae enter intae his manor hooses? Even if we are as gentle as can be, daes he ken that we're breakin and enterin?"
"Secondly, Ahh can understand keepin the Ghenett Manor intact included all o' the possessions that belong tae Temel safe, but Ahh dannae hae the same respect fer the Aspis Consortium. If Ahh dae find ane o' their arrogant agents skulkin aboot, can yae gie mae permission tae tak'em oot and keep the bugger's possessions? Naturally Ahh like treasure, but it becomes extra richly if Ahh'm relievin it frae a slimy Aspis serpent!"
"Ahh've got a few wee quetions, Venture Captain." Skybek speaks up. "First, daes Temel actually gie us permission tae enter intae his manor hooses? Even if we are as gentle as can be, daes he ken that we're breakin and enterin?"
"Yes. He has challenged us to do so, in fact, so expect heavy security and proceed with caution. Avoid wanton acts of destruction if possible, however."
"Secondly, Ahh can understand keepin the Ghenett Manor intact included all o' the possessions that belong tae Temel safe, but Ahh dannae hae the same respect fer the Aspis Consortium. If Ahh dae find ane o' their arrogant agents skulkin aboot, can yae gie mae permission tae tak'em oot and keep the bugger's possessions? Naturally Ahh like treasure, but it becomes extra richly if Ahh'm relievin it frae a slimy Aspis serpent!"
"Of course!"
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"Yes. He has challenged us to do so, in fact, so expect heavy security and proceed with caution. Avoid wanton acts of destruction if possible, however."
"Ahh think Ahh understand the part aboot avoidin destruction, but what exactly dae yae mean by 'he's challengin us tae dae so?' Forgive me if Ahh'm nae tae quick on the pick up, but is Temel gonnae welcome us intae his hoose with open arms, or is he gonnae stop oor every attempt tae break in? Ahh'm nae the sneakiest o' Pathfinders, but Ahh've seen how the wee folk dae it."
"I believe," and here she reaches for a paper on her desk, "his exact words were: 'If you want to play the role of thugs, I’ll make it easy on you. The book will be hidden among my many holdings throughout the Inner Sea; you’ll have to locate it and survive my defenses to obtain your little prize. And you won’t be alone. I’ll send word to the world that this challenge has been put forth—the first to find it gets to keep it!' So yes, a challenge."
"Anything else?"
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"What kind of intel do we have on the manor? Layout? Known or suspected defenses? Sort of opposition to expect?
What's the book look like? I don't know about the rest of you, but I can't read Tien. I couldn't tell The Manual of Martial Mastery apart from a Tian Xia cookbook by the cover."
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"What kind of intel do we have on the manor? Layout? Known or suspected defenses? Sort of opposition to expect?
"Ghenett Manor is modest affair--by Druman standards, that is. An ornate stone structure that overlooks the River Scorpius. It’s one or two stories tall at the most, built around a central atrium, like many Katapeshi villas. The grounds are surrounded by a wall. We don’t know the scale or nature of its security. Proceed with caution."
What's the book look like? I don't know about the rest of you, but I can't read Tien. I couldn't tell The Manual of Martial Mastery apart from a Tian Xia cookbook by the cover."
"Originally written in Tien, it’s an exhaustive compendium of eastern fighting styles and combat games. It’s supposed to be copiously illustrated and the cover bears an embossed representation of a Tian weapon known as a nunchaku--two rods of wood connected by a cord or chain."
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A tall, athletically-built human woman strides into the room. Her skin is literally black, as though it had been repeatedly marinated in coal or ash, and her spare monastic garments are generously complemented by wicked and cumbersome chains bearing Kuthite iconography.
"Apologies for my lateness," She grumbles. "I found an old associate of mine on auction at the local slave market here, and I felt I had to warn the auctioneers what they were dealing with - as well as appreciate the irony of seeing that green Galtan oaf in fetters while it lasted."
"So: Yes, I heard, we're obliged to remind a Kalistocrat of his myopia," She looks at the assemblage. "and now I understand my part in this; someone needs to demonstrate the Society's commitment to the civilized fighting forms, or why should we deserve the book at all?"
"Well met; I am Sister Kali Altzairu."
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"I believe," and here she reaches for a paper on her desk, "his exact words were: 'If you want to play the role of thugs, I’ll make it easy on you. The book will be hidden among my many holdings throughout the Inner Sea; you’ll have to locate it and survive my defenses to obtain your little prize. And you won’t be alone. I’ll send word to the world that this challenge has been put forth—the first to find it gets to keep it!' So yes, a challenge."
"Anything else?"
"Ahh just dannae want tae tarnish mae reputation as a thief, but it sounds like this wee challenge will clear me o' that. But Ahh can also see noo, that Temel isnae gonnae mak this wee mission easy fer us. Ahh just cannae believe that diplomacy has broken doon and noo we've got tae resort tae shinnenigans."
Turning to his companions, he asks, "Are any o' yae Pathfinders prepared tae disable traps fer when we get inside the hoose?"
"Sister!" Skybek calls over to the latecomer, "Yae look nimble and quick. Dae yae have ana experience dealin with pesky traps and such?"
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"Tell me, " Skybek whispers to Khakil, "Does the wee dug shaped shag a muffin like tae toast the day wid a dram while we're adventurin or is he one o' those holy puritan like folk?"
Cott puzzles slightly at the dwarf's thick accent, and after finally decrypting hours speech, he laughs aloud.
"I don't think you'll ever meet one holier than my friend Khalil here. Why he's in some tavern or another worshiping his Lucky Drunk every night. And usually the mornings (after) too. As for myself, I don't have much use for god bothering. I prefer the Old Faith.
I certainly have been known to have a thirst now and again but I find spirits not precisely to my taste. I generally prefer to slake it elsewise."
He smiles widely at the dwarf, displaying rows of shining teeth that suddenly grow and sharpen until they resemble the toothy maw of a particularly vicious beast, while wicked claws sprout from his finger tips.
"The bard has the right of it. There's little and less in the world I enjoy better than a fresh kill. I think this job will suit me just fine. In truth, I've developed something of a taste for the aspis."
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"I’ve hired a westbound barge to ferry you up river tomorrow morning. It should take between 10 and 12 hours to reach the manor. There’s plenty of cover around the place, so secret yourselves until well after nightfall. There’s no reason to think that Passad’s security is especially concerned about the well-being of any intruders; his precautionary measures may indeed be deadly. After you have secured either the Mutani Manual or Besai--or, gods willing, both of them--make your way north and east to the trade spur that eventually follows the river back to Katapesh. You should be able to secure eastward transport with one of the many caravans that travel that busy highway."
The lazy, 12-hour trip up river is uneventful, and the laconic skipper sets the party ashore with no more than a nod as the barge continues on its way west. In the distance stands a great manor house, its imposing roof a patch of dark set against the night's first twinkling stars. While the surrounding area is lightly wooded, a well-maintained road makes a bee-line for the manor house. The walls of the manor can be seen through the trees from the river’s edge, capping a low, flat hill to the immediate north.
Approaching the house reveals 15-foot walls surrounding the manor, all made of a polished grey stone with artful Qadiran-style geometric etchings covering every inch of its surface. The paving stones are uniformly octagonal and speckled in shades of green, red, and grey. The gates are 17 feet high, clearly fashioned by a gifted master of metalwork; had they color other than the black iron, one could easily mistake them for intertwined vines and sprightly fey creatures flitting through their foliage.
The gates are wide open, and before them sits an elderly gentleman ensconced in a padded chair, bearing an expectant expression.
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"Looks like we're expected. Well let's be about our business then. No use skulking about in the dark like thieves if we can go in the front as welcomed guests. "
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"As for myself, I don't have much use for god bothering. I prefer the Old Faith. I certainly have been known to have a thirst now and again but I find spirits not precisely to my taste. I generally prefer to slake it elsewise."
"Well, Ahh'm always glad tae meet anither person o' faith. No, we cannae fault the bard. Cailean may've been a drunken hero, but it cannae hurt to gie em oor respect whenever possible!"
He smiles widely at the dwarf, displaying rows of shining teeth that suddenly grow and sharpen until they resemble the toothy maw of a particularly vicious beast, while wicked claws sprout from his finger tips.
"The bard has the right of it. There's little and less in the world I enjoy better than a fresh kill. I think this job will suit me just fine. In truth, I've developed something of a taste for the aspis."
"Well, mae axe is quite willing tae chop up the wee aspis as well. Ahh think we're aboot tae hae a fine time together . . . Mr. . . .Uhh, whadja say your name was again?"
""Looks like we're expected. Well let's be about our business then. No use skulking about in the dark like thieves if we can go in the front as welcomed guests. "
"Ahh certainly dae like tae be a welcomed guest, but Ahh dannae think we'll be tae welcome once they find oot what we're dae'in here."
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"Oh they know what we're about, make no mistake. I wouldn't doubt it if Temel himself is currently in residence at one of the target houses observing our efforts to meet his challenge. Hell, he could even be here tonight. Fancy folk taking their entertainment by playing games with us commons.
Well we'll put on a good show but damned if I'll give em the satisfaction of watching me skin my knees struggling up the wall. I say we welcome ourselves in through the front door like the proper invitees we are."
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[1] "Ah, welcome, you are expected. I am Gamaradim Po, the caretaker of Ghenett Manor. Please, may I invite you in for tea before you begin the trials?" Po collects his chair and leads the way through the gate with a surprisingly spry step for so aged a man. "Please stay off the grass--the guard dogs are quite vicious."
The paving stones continue past the gate, leading up to the villa’s great double doors, leading to a paved turnaround for carriages and the like. To the west lies a decorative pond filled with crystal clear and no more than four feet deep at any point. About three dozen fanciful fish float on the surface, their formerly colorful scales ragged. Two arrows stick in the ground on the southeastern edge of the pond and the black-feathered shafts of four other such missiles can be seen protruding above the surface of the pond. The ground at the edge of the pond is soaked with moisture. No other traces remain of what appears to have been some strange act of vandalism.
[2] The villa itself is made of imported stone of a dusty rose hue, with rows of artful etchings on its surface, alternating every foot with rows of deeper carvings of wonderfully complex pastoral scenes from a variety of cultures. Most of the structure is about 20 feet tall, though sections of the northern portion of the villa rise only 10 feet. Several arched windows filled with delicate metallic grills, their sills 10 feet off the ground, cover the east and west walls. The manor's front doors are made of thick teak and intricately carved with religious scenes. A pair of fat, gold rings hangs suspended from the mouths of djinn-like heads firmly affixed to each portal--extraordinarily expensive door knockers.
[3] Gently pushing open the front door, Po leads you to another strange scene. This opulent entry hall was once a proudly appointed place, with detailed and realistic murals of a marketplace on the walls, carved mahogany benches, ancient statues of red stone--each bearing distinctly Tian features--and a pair of huge fur rugs assembled from the pelts of unusual and exotic animals. Clear signs of violence now mar the room: four of the benches are overturned and one to the southwest is charred, a statue has been reduced to rubble, and both rugs are torn and ragged as if hacked at with knives. Po makes no comment about this and moves directly across the room to another door on the far side, inviting you further into the manor.
[4] In this next room, a rich green rug of Qadiran manufacture with dizzying geometric patterns filling its thick pile runs down the middle of this charming room. To the east and west are finely carved mahogany benches, before which sit exquisite tables hewn from the same wood. The stone walls are painted in subtly shifting shades of green, so that the color grows lighter the further up the surface it proceeds--clearly the work of an artisan of considerable talent. Inviting you each to take a seat on the benches, Po himself takes a chair and snaps his fingers. A sandy-haired woman of middle age enters from a side-door bearing a tray of tea, and stops before each of you with the tray. "Ah, thank you Domatilla. Please, enjoy the fine spiced tea. I bid you welcome to Ghenett Manor. I have been instructed by my employer to extend this courtesy--I assume that you represent the world-renowned Pathfinder organization? I would ask that you make an effort to respect the property," he states, casting a quick frown in the direction of the room to the east. "I will answer what questions I can."
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Cott looks at the baked fish floating in the pond, and raises an eyebrow at Po.
"What happened here? Awfully expensive fish fry. Can't imagine Temel will be happy about the thought of losing such a fine school of mankea."
"Heh, whoever beat us here has certainly seen some excitement already. Hope they left us something to keep us occupied."
"We'll do our best to keep the mayham to a bare minimum. And failing that, we'll be certain to blame it all on the other guys."
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"Yes," She replies to Skybek's query. "I jump over them."
Silly Kalistocrats, Kali briefly thinks as she passes through the door.
Kali raises her eyebrow as she sips her tea, making a point of doing so while it's still scalding-hot. "Excellent. We seek a prisoner and the Mutani Manual. Tell us where they are."
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"Ah, welcome, you are expected. I am Gamaradim Po, the caretaker of Ghenett Manor. Please, may I invite you in for tea before you begin the trials?" Po collects his chair and leads the way through the gate with a surprisingly spry step for so aged a man. "Please stay off the grass--the guard dogs are quite vicious."
"Aye, Ahh'm Skybek Odeon at yer service!" The dwarf replies with a gracious bow. "Ahh'm most impressed with this fine lookin hoose! Ahh thank yae kindly fer the cup o' tea."
Skybek takes the cup in his fingers and drains it in a few gulps.
"Aye, that hit the spot. So tell me, Mr. Po, dae yae hae agents frae the Aspis Consortium visitin here as well? We Pathfinders are quite gud at respectin property, but Ahh cannae say the same fer the aspis agents. Yae could say that Ahh'm nae tae sure that they wouldnae destroy the hoose if they did stop by fer a wee visit."
[1] Po does not respond to Cott's comments and merely continues on his way to the villa.
[4] "Other mercenaries arrived earlier today, yes. Much like yourselves, albeit a less cordial grouping. More than this my master forbids me to say on this subject." Po turns to gaze at Kali for a moment. "I am afraid I can hardly be specific about it. The guest rooms are currently vacant; I was instructed to house the person of whom you speak where his endless expertise would be most appreciated. As for the Manual, one would assume that it is in the library, with the other books."
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Cott holds his cup of tea beneath his nose and inhales appreciatively. He takes a small sip, enjoying the delicate and exotic flavor.
"Are the ones who preceded us still bumbling around inside?"
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[4] "That you will have to discover for yourself."
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"Well, fair's fair I suppose. Anything else your employer wishes to impart, aside from the challenge to retrieve what we're here for and the request to minimize the destruction?"
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[1]"That's an awful big stew you have brewing there," jests Khakil as they pass by the pond. "Did they get boiled right there or were they tossed in after?"
[2] Khakil draws a finger across the door knockers. "Hmm-Nicely crafted. Does Temel have a thing for genies and the like, or is this just a matter of owning expensive things?"
[3] Khakil looks around at the mess, raising an eyebrow. He gestures back at the door they just came through. "Do you keep the door unlocked or something? There are clear signs of battle both outside and in, but the door seemed undamaged. Or perhaps your last guests got in another way? It almost seems like a this was a personal grudge against Temel, judging by the type of destruction. Who stabs a rug?!"
[4] The bard kindly takes a cup of tea with a nod to the servant, but sets it down immediately without a taste. "Listen, Bo: if you want us to keep damage of this place to a minimum it might be wise to tell us anything you can about the last group to rampage through here. The more we know about them, the quicker we can get them out of your hair and the less time your masters valuables will be in danger of getting torn apart. It's more a service for yourself than for us."
[4] "I am afraid that I am forbidden from saying more, as I have already said." Po finishes the last of his tea.
"Indeed, master dwarf. Though your organization greatly offended my master, he nevertheless wishes to extend all the courtesy as is customary for guests in his home. My hospitality ends here, though, and you’ll be on your own to survive the challenges he’s placed before you and leave with what you came for."
Kali, Skybek, Cott, and Quarr all begin to feel woozy as the interview with Po comes to a close. A moment later, each is fast alseep in their chairs. "Fear not; they will wake in but half an hour," Po says to a vindicated Khakil. [b]"My master asks me to tell you that he looks forward to reading about their heroic nap in the next edition of the Pathfinder Chronicles." Po collects his chair and heads back to the gate. Domatilla also takes her leave, exiting through double doors to the south.
Some thirty minutes later, the half-elf's companions slowly and groggily come to.
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Khakil spends the next half hour entertaining
himself by playing his ocarina and arranging the others into suggestive positions.
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Kali wakes up quickly once she is able to wake up at all, and she digs her chains into her shoulder-flesh as self-punishment for her carelessness.
"Remind me: Our host would have us refrain from appropriating or vandalizing his worldly goods - he didn't say anything that would prohibit us from killing his puppet should we see him again, did he?"
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Skybek eventually wakes up from his deep snoring. "Crivens! What happened? Where am Ahh? Why didnae any o' yae folks try and wake me? If the conversation was gettin dull and people were bletherin too much, yae just need tae gie me a wee kick. Ahh wouldnae hae been offended. Noo, we're gie' the aspis far tae much o' a head start!"
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Cott groans as he comes slowly awake.
"Unholy gods, what in the hell smells like dwarf as... oh."
He extracts himself from the abstract tangle of limbs the bard created and shakes his head.
"Well, that's a less than auspicious start, but at least we'll be going into this well rested. Seems like there's not much to be gained from sticking around out here much longer. Guess we might as well get to it.
As for giving Mr. Po a bit of a seeing to... I think at this point he'd fall squarely into the category of defenses, not property. And we were invited here quite specifically to try and defeat Temel's defenses. Way I see it, if he's foolish enough to show his face again, he gets what's coming to him. "
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The double doors to the south lead deeper into the manor.
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Quarr is the last to awaken as he jerks out of his chair. Oh dear I seem to have fallen asleep while the host was speaking.
Realizing what happened he takes a quick stock of his supplies and sighs in relief as he realizes everything is there. The little gnome picks up one of the glasses of tea as he gives it a quick sniff. He produces a small vial from his belt as he draws a small sample of the liquid and places it into his pack.
Jumping from the chair his wings flexibly spread to ease his descent as he walks towards the door. What do you have there Kali?
Kali's skin hardens as she and Quarr inspect the door. Nothing seems amiss, so they throw the doors open onto a lavish banquet hall.
The ceiling of this grand hall soars twenty feet overhead. An enormous, fifty-foot-long banquet table surrounded by twenty-eight beautifully carved, high-backed chairs dominates the room. Eight full suits of ornate plate armor line the north and south walls, each holding an elaborate if unwieldy halberd. Intricately grilled windows high up on the east and west walls allow ambient light from outside to permeate the large chamber. Two enormous oil paintings in fanciful gilded frames flank the double doors on the west wall, their subjects presiding regally over the hall. On the right is an obese man in voluminous white robes and gloves, with a long black beard of oiled ringlets, and the fingers of both hands bedecked with gems--the quintessential portrait of a Druman Kalistocrat. The portrait on the left depicts a beautiful olive-skinned woman with large dark eyes and raven hair, also clad in white robes and gloves; her hair is held in place by a jeweled circlet, and a veil of coins covers her lower face.
Seated in every fourth chair is an undoubtedly strange figure. At first glance, each appears to be a human dressed in expensive black formal-wear, but a double-take glance points out that each has a grotesque, fish-like head.
As the party enters the room, the doors behind close (seemingly of their own accord) and all seven figures rise as one and begin to approach in a menacing fashion.