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A teenage girl with long, bright red hair flowing behind her, a cheery smile, and bright green eyes wanders in. She's dressed in a fine dress and jewelry, as if better prepared for a fancy social occasion than a Pathfinder mission.
Following right behind her, a rabbit with exactly the same color of bright red hair hops along, its nose twitching as it sniffs in every direction.
"Hello. My name is Zoë Saugin. I'm a specialist in arcane magic, and this cutey widdle bunny wabbit", she picks up the rabbit, and scratches him behind the ears, "is Aleph, my familiar."
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Taking a bow before the young woman and her mighty charge, Torrel, a humble priest bows politely, before offering a gentle, "A pleasure, young sister. I am Torrel, a servant to the sun's rays and warmth. Have you any idea why we where called?"
"Aleph, you say. That seems so familiar. Perhaps a letter or word from one of the many languages I'd studied."
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Zeldana sits at a table and smiles though old broken teeth at her fellow Pathfinders as she shuffles a timeworn harrow deck.
"Welcome... I do not yet know why we have been summoned but perhaps the cards do, come read the cards with Zeldana, and peer into the future."
Zeldana offers the harrow deck to Torrel to cut.
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A strong, yet slender man walks in trying to attract little attention. His axes at his side and scale mail armor indicate he's always ready for melee combat, although he makes no effort to look menacing. It is easy to see that he has few friends, by his lack of proper words and his somewhat bushy smell.
Clearly aware of his lack of social tact, he still makes an effort to sound friendly.
My name's Tirrem. I'll be coming with you and try to be useful. That's a pretty bunny, he says bluntly.
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Not wanting to appear rude or dismissive, but likewise uncomfortable with the casual use of such cards, "No thank you, friend. Perhaps Zoe?" Nontheless, Torrel offers a handshake and repeats his greeting towards the two new arrivals.
Nodding at the warrior as he joins in, the priest seems both happy to have one ready for a fight at the groups side, but is also hopeful that such mastery of arms shall not be necessary in the coming days. "The universe has a way of working things out for the best, brother, so I am certain you, and all of us shall be very useful when it is needed."
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"It's nice to meet you all", Zoë says, putting Aleph back down on the ground.
The rabbit runs up to Tirrem excitedly, his nose twitching wildly, and rears up on his hind legs to look (and sniff) up at the man, as if looking for attention.
"I think Aleph understood you", the girl says with a laugh. "I don't think he really understands speech, but he does seem to get people's intentions sometimes. He definitely likes you."
Zoë's eyes widen at Zeldana bringing out the Harrow deck. "Oh, I'd love to get a reading. I'm always interested to learn as much as possible about various types of magical arts, and true Harrow readers are rare. Perhaps you could teach me about it?"
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A particularly demonic-looking tiefling sizes up the others. Though her features are unsettling, perhaps the worst is that her hair seems to have a life of its own. Strands of her hair move and writhe of their own accord, as if she were a medusa with a head full of snakes.
"Greetings, fellow travelers. I'm Calypso, the resident beauty queen. I'll handle any required seduction, if that's okay."
It appears she is quite serious. A hermit crab emerges from her hair and bobbles about, wearing a shell and clacking its pincers, happy in its home.
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Zeldana grins her big half empty grin again. "While I'm no teacher, just a practitioner. I can look into your future learning of such matters."
Zeldana lets Zoe cut the deck and then deals out a set of cards.
Zeldana lays out the cards in the traditional Harrowing Tapestry, looking at various events from the past, present and future, before giving a reading.
Zeldana examines the cards and first reads the neutral card from Zoe's past. "In your past I see the Brass Dwarf, a strong and invulnerable foe. Even if you do not know it yet I suspect your true intentions in your magical learnings is to overcome this foe. One you were unable to in the past."
Zeldana then looks at the present cards "The doppleganger. This represents duality. You waver between different options, undecided which path to take."
Zeldana then looks to the future "Perhaps this will help guide your way, or it is what divides your purpose. The Theatre represents a bright future, but one of a prophet. Despite Aroden's long demise you have in the prohpecies of Golarion. While a true prophet just acts the part as a puppet of the gods you still have some influence on what path to take."
"note that your past and present are much clearer to me than your future. The BRass Dwarf and Twin are true matches, while The Theatre does not fit perfectly into the tapestry. Be wary though, on rare occasions a true Match on the Twin means the prophecy is not for you, but for another nearby instead."
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Calypso claps ecstatically at Zeldana's card reading. She pulls a cup from her belt, which is full of fragments of bone, a die, and other odds and ends. She scatters it in the dirt in front of her, and the crab clacks on top of her head.
"Ooo...I think he could be right!"
She turns to the psychic. "Now me!"
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Walking in the door is a tall slim elf and at his side is a ferocious looking tiger, white and gray with black stripes."Greetings friends I am Vulen and this is my dearest friend Sherkon. We are here to track down the enemy for you."
Shercon looks over at the bunny and cant decide if it's lunch or something else.
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"Oh!" Zoë is surprised by the tiger and Aleph jumping into her. "Hello, Vulen. Nice to meet you. I don't know if we have any enemies to track. Hopefully, this will be a peaceful mission for the Society."
Turning her attention back to Zeldana and Calypso, she says "Thank you for the Harrow reading. It was most... enlightening."
"Since I believe our entire team is here now, there is another magical matter I'd like to bring up."
"As I said, I'm a practitioner of the arcane arts. I can use magic to help ward my allies from harm and bring you good fortune. If you'll each allow Aleph here", she gestures to the rabbit in her arms, "to give you a small bite, perhaps on the side of the hand, it will leave a temporary magic scar. This will bind us magically, and make it easier for me to use my magic to help you from a distance."
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"Greetings friends I am Vulen and this is my dearest friend Sherkon. We are here to track down the enemy for you."
"Do we have enemies in need of tracking down, brother?"
"As I said, I'm a practitioner of the arcane arts. I can use magic to help ward my allies from harm and bring you good fortune. If you'll each allow Aleph here", she gestures to the rabbit in her arms, "to give you a small bite, perhaps on the side of the hand, it will leave a temporary magic scar. This will bind us magically, and make it easier for me to use my magic to help you from a distance."
Having dealt with far too many so-called priests requiring contracts, "Um. . . no, . . . but thank you. I think. I'll simply rely on the strength of my faith and sword arm to protect."
"Greetings, fellow travelers. I'm Calypso, the resident beauty queen. I'll handle any required seduction, if that's okay."
"Wererabbits, and now a "queen" offering free, . . ."seductions". Am I in the right room?" followed quickly by something under his breath that sounds very similar too "Or on the right Plane of existence. . .?"
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As you all patiently sit in the room, getting acquainted with one another, a very old gnome, with fading green hair, slowly walks into the room with his cane. He looks at you all, one real eye and the other some mechanical lens contraption, and nods. Then he silently places a sealed letter on the table and walks out just as slowly as he entered.
In the envelope is nothing but a small strip of paper with a note and an address.
Meet me here, within the hour.
- D. D.
Coming to the meeting place--an odd choice of venue, as it is a street corner far from the Grand Lodge--a lone beggar garbed in baggy robes approaches. The only figure visible in the constant drizzle, the beggar sticks out his hands for currency. “Have you any coin to spare, fine folk?” The question hangs in the air for only a scant moment before the figure pulls back his hood to reveal the wizened face of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng. He gives a crooked smile, soaked head to toe from his unprotected time in the rain. His clothes smell faintly of cabbage.
“Sorry about that,” he says with a wink. “I always like to play a little joke on agents when I stumble across them during my jaunts into town. Now, why did I summon you fine folk here again...?" Dreng shakes his head from side to side, as though trying to knock water out of his ears, despite the constant downpour.
"Ah yes, the Wounded Wisp! I’m undercover now and can’t stray far from the site I’m watching, but I need someone to retrieve a package for me from that fine establishment. It’s among Absalom’s most storied taverns, you see, and one that holds a special place of privilege in the Society’s lore as the place where the organization began. Well, I could drone on and on about it, but standing out in the rain is doing none of us any favors.” As if anticipating agreement, the bedraggled Venture-Captain produces a small slip of folded paper from one of his many stitched pockets. Dreng quickly shows a glimpse of the page’s contents: a map detailing the location of the Wounded Wisp bar.
“The bartender is a woman by the name of Heryn Gale, a fine lady who came to own the Wisp after the passing of her father from--oh, bah, it’s really getting too cold for me to give a proper history lesson! If you could just go to the Wisp, and tell Heryn you’re there to pick up my parcel, it would be most appreciated. I’ll be around here for several more hours at least.”
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The only figure visible in the constant drizzle, the beggar sticks out his hands for currency. “Have you any coin to spare, fine folk?” The question hangs in the air for only a scant moment. . .
"Indeed, humble sir, here, go grab yourself something to, . . . oh."
before the figure pulls back his hood to reveal the wizened face of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng. He gives a crooked smile, soaked head to toe from his unprotected time in the rain. His clothes smell faintly of cabbage.
“Sorry about that,” he says with a wink. “I always like to play a little joke on agents when I stumble across them during my jaunts into town. Now, why did I summon you fine folk here again...?" . . .
“The bartender is a woman by the name of Heryn Gale, a fine lady who came to own the Wisp after the passing of her father from--oh, bah, it’s really getting too cold for me to give a proper history lesson! If you could just go to the Wisp, and tell Heryn you’re there to pick up my parcel, it would be most appreciated. I’ll be around here for several more hours at least.”
"Certainly. Hum, the Wounded Wisp. I vaguely recall the tavern. More of a small club, if I recall, with food and lodging, and the staff knows your name. Does Heryn know to give us this package? And I'm hesitant to ask, but this is the Pathfinder Society after all, but,. . . um, it's not going to blow up, cause a lot of harm, ruin someone's life, politically or socially, or mark us as outlaws, right?" Torrel actually waits a few very uncomfortable moments for a straight answer, "Right. . ."
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"Certainly. Hum, the Wounded Wisp. I vaguely recall the tavern. More of a small club, if I recall, with food and lodging, and the staff knows your name. Does Heryn know to give us this package? And I'm hesitant to ask, but this is the Pathfinder Society after all, but,. . . um, it's not going to blow up, cause a lot of harm, ruin someone's life, politically or socially, or mark us as outlaws, right?" Torrel actually waits a few very uncomfortable moments for a straight answer, "Right. . ."
"Just a small club? Young Pathfinder, you have much to learn about our history. For starters, it’s one of the most important establishments in the history of the Society. From those old walls, the first Pathfinders met to discuss their adventures across Golarion. Back then they weren’t even called Pathfinders! Nowadays the bar is almost an official Pathfinder saloon, where agents of all varieties go to meet and share tales."
"And what sort of man do you think I am? I wouldn't trust a package as important as you described, to someone so new to the Society just yet. No, no, nothing like that at all. Before you judge, despite my current attire, I’m still a man of taste. The parcel is actually a special vintage of wine from the cellar of the Wounded Wisp. I’ve been sampling their finer wines in descending order of bottling. I dare not disappear from my current role in this district, but I also would appreciate some comfort items. After all, I doubt anyone would judge a supposed beggar sipping from a bottle of wine."
The Wounded Wisp has a very storied history, and many Pathfinders have heard of or frequented the bar previously.
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"You are all capable agents, I am sure, but sometimes we have to do what we must before we can do what we want. Do a favor for an old man, will you?" And with that, he raises his hood and wanders back out into the rain.
Trudging through muddy streets with varying degrees of willingness and enthusiasm, the party quickly reaches their destination. The Wounded Wisp is located in the Foreign Quarter district, close to the grounds of the Grand Lodge. Built from dark, discolored wood, the exterior of the Wounded Wisp is the image of an iconic dive bar. Stained and barred windows obscure direct vision into the establishment, though ruddy yellow light bleeds from a window in the front hall. The only distinguishing feature on the Wisp's exterior is a thick wooden sign hanging above the bar's entrance. A brass ring fitted onto the sign
anchors a lantern—referred to by the staff as “the wisp”— that hangs there during the evening hours.
Proceeding inside, the group steps past a coat check (where a sullen halfling teenager offers to take your cloaks) and down a short long hallway decorated in dozens of trophies and Pathfinder memorabilia left behind by successful agents. In the wide-open main room, the smell of smoke and spilled ale assails the senses. Walls of dark-stained wood make up the sides of the Wounded Wisp, while well-used wooden tables are spread throughout the space. A raised area in the back of the establishment houses several additional tables and eating areas for groups seeking more than just a good drink. An austere bar supported by kegs instead of wooden panels commands the northern end of the room. A stained-glass cabinet stands behind the bar, its dark panes cracked in several spots, yet not so opaque as to conceal the several dozen types of hard liquor within.
Even at this mid-afternoon hour, numerous patrons--including several with clear Pathfinder affiliation--are already relaxing about the bar, enjoying the food and drink provided by the Wisp's staff. One or two recognize the up-and-coming halfling scholar-adventurer, Janira Gavix, chatting amiably with the grey-haired woman behind the bar while standing atop a barstool. Some might also recognize Yargos Gill, a moderately-known military historian, sipping from an overly large flagon of ale from over a hefty tome at a table on the upper level. Two half-orcs savage a half-chicken at a nearby table, their dented wayfinders resting ignored to the side. A portly man in Kelish robes sits at the bar with a copy of The Birth of Light and Truth, rubbing his fingers in a nervous habit across a wayfinder with the image of Sarenrae on the lid.
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Zoë hands her damp cloak to the halfling at the coat check appreciatively. She pulls out a wand that she obviously isn't entirely sure how to use, and attempts to activate it.
Succeeding, she uses the spell to clean the water and any dirt from her clothing before proceeding all the way into the bar.
The teenage girl looks around the Wounded Wisp with wide eyed wonder, as Aleph sticks his head out of her backpack and sniffs the air curiously. Seeing all the Wayfinders, she pulls her own Wayfinder out of her backpack and attaches it to her belt prominently.
She then follows Torrel to go talk to the man with the book.
Not wanting to interrupt Torrel's conversation with the man, she just comes up behind him and smiles, while trying to get a good look at his book to see what he's reading.
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"Hello, friend. My name is Torrel. How do you do. I was wondering if you might be able to point me towards Heryn Gale."
Yargos takes his reading glasses off and sets them on the table, motioning for the two to sit. "I asked Heryn to fetch me a scone if she had any. I swear she makes the best scones in the whole Foreign Quarter." He pauses before closing the book in front of him. "I'm researching the history of previous attempts at the Test of the Starstone. Rumor has it, some Mendevian Crusader from the north, calling himself Sir Reinhart of Kenabres, is about to attempt it. I truly don't understand it myself. Does he really believe he has a chance to pass it? If he were so special than I would have heard of him before now. It's bound to end in disaster if you ask me."
Just then, a comely middle aged dwarf, comes by with the scone for Yargos. "Here ya go, my last one today. Who are your new friends? I hope you're not rambling on about something and scaring away my customers." She turns to Torrel and Zoe and welcomes them with a warm smile. "Hi there, I'm Heryn. I don't believe I've seen you in here before. What can I get for you?"
Zeldana will sit down at the bar, next to the portly man and smile her toothy grin and say hello while waiting for the barkeep to finish chatting.
The Kelish man holds up a finger as if telling her to wait a moment. After a slight pause, he puts a strip of cloth in his book and closes it. "My apologies, I like to read a passage every day. My name is Aram bin Kaleel, how do you do? I'm sure you've heard of my shop, Kaleel's Curiosities over in the Coins District. You look a little wet behind the ear still, you should stop by the shop some time. I have all kinds of items that Pathfinders find useful on their journeys. A Pathfinder should always be able to stand on his own two feet, but be able to lean on a fellow agent when needed."
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"Wow! I hadn't realized someone was going to attempt the Test of the Starstone. That doesn't happen very often, does it? If he fails, does that mean he's guaranteed to die? That would be tragic, especially if he's truly a good and noble Mendevian crusader."
When Heryn approaches, Zoë turns her attention to the dwarf.
"Just the person we were looking to see. But where are my manners? My name is Zoë Saugin", she introduces herself to both the historian and barmaid with a slight curtsey.
"We were actually sent by Drandle Dreng to pick up a bottle of wine" she tells Heryn.
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Vulen will go talk to the halfling. He will sit and listen to her story first. "Hello there miss, you must be brave to be a pathfinder at your young age."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"I'm researching the history of previous attempts at the Test of the Starstone. Rumor has it, some Mendevian Crusader from the north, calling himself Sir Reinhart of Kenabres, is about to attempt it. I truly don't understand it myself. Does he really believe he has a chance to pass it? If he were so special than I would have heard of him before now. It's bound to end in disaster if you ask me."
"Well, perhaps he could surprise you. I mean, after what happened in Kenabres recently, , if he survived than just maybe he has what it takes. And a drunkard and also a tongueless scoundrel passed it, after all."
She turns to Torrel and Zoe and welcomes them with a warm smile. "Hi there, I'm Heryn. I don't believe I've seen you in here before. What can I get for you?"
"Oh, hello there ma'am. My name is Torrel, a priest of the Dawn.. I was asked to seek you out for a, quote, unquote, "special delivery" for Mr. Dreng. He also wished to convey that he was cold, wet, and lonely out there, asking us to, with your leave, pick it up for him. Would this be possible? I don't carry a Pathfinder ID card or anything."
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"We were actually sent by Drandle Dreng to pick up a bottle of wine"
"Yes, Mr Dreng did mention that he would send someone to pickup that bottle. Though I didn't expect such a large group to show for just a single bottle of wine. But, that sounds like him afterall. I've got a replacement coming in a few minutes, if you don't mind waiting. I'll take you down to the cellar when she gets here. In the meantime, have a drink on the house." She turns and walks back over to the bar and starts cleaning some glasses.
"No no, my apologies for interrupting, you did nothing wrong. Let me more about your shop, the barkeep seems busy so I may have some time to kill here."
Aram reaches into his pocket and hands Zeldana a small business card with the location and name of his shop. "I try to stock all the things that an adventurer might need. I find it amazing how many adventurers, and even Pathfinders, explore without having the proper equipment. What happens if you come across a magical trap, or a swarm of insects? Or how about something to take notes with or start a fire?" He shakes his head at the thought. "Being unprepared can get you hurt or killed, or even worse. And yes there are things out there much worse than death."
"Hello there miss, you must be brave to be a pathfinder at your young age."
The halfling turns around on the stool she stands on to look eye to eye to Vulen. "And what makes you think I'm so young? Just because I'm small does not mean I'm a kid! You must be new to the Society or you would surely know that I am Janira Gavix. And I will have you know that I am quite the experienced Pathfinder. You could learn a thing or two from me."