After fifty days at sea, the Pathfinder lodge at Heidmarch Manor in Magnimar is a welcome place to spend the night on dry land. In the shade of the gazebo on the shore of the manor’s exotic carp pond, the resident venture-captain, Sheila Heidmarch, speaks to the assembled Pathfinders in a low, breathy voice.
“I hope you’ve found your brief stay here in the City of Monuments relaxing. The Pathfinder Society owes you a debt of gratitude for engaging in such an important and lengthy mission. When you set out from Absalom nearly two months ago, I’m sure you never anticipated the monotony of a life at sea, but I’m happy we can put you up as the ship restocks before the final leg of the journey to the Mordant Spire.
“Thus far, you have done an excellent job of representing the Society as the escorts of the Mordant Spire’s envoy, the distinguished Sephriel, whom we hope had a productive meeting with the Decemvirate regarding the Azlanti ruins over which the Mordant Spire elves hold such a protective position. If he was pleased with the meeting and doesn’t find you too
reprehensible, perhaps we can launch full expeditions into the lost continent of Azlant from this very lodge in the near future.”
She winks, and her eyes glance around the assembled agents. With a wry smirk, she continues.
“Keep up the good work, and ensure that Sephriel’s final two weeks on the Throaty Mermaid are as pleasant and event-free as they can be on
as disreputable a smugglers’ ship as it is. Thus far, it’s provided an
unassuming cover for such an important dignitary. Let’s hope the unscrupulous crew delivers their current cargo on time and in pristine condition. When you arrive at Riddleport after dropping Sephriel at the Mordant Spire, a chartered boat will be waiting to take you back to Absalom. May Desna’s blessings be upon you.”
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Gilfroy smiles at the Venture-Captain's praise. "While I would hesitate to say we're becoming fast friends, I would hope that the esteemed Sephriel has at least begun to tolerate us. We have certainly done our best to keep him amused on the long journey, if nothing else."
As he talks, the tattooed gnome idly uses a prestidigitation to lift "handfuls" of the pond water into the air and shape them into various animals, turn them bright colours, and send them back to swim with the fish. Puffs of smoke rise above his head from his pipe, and Mayberry, his thrush familiar nestles into his white hair.
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Boram returns Sheila's smirk. "If it was going to be pleasant and event-free the whole time, it would be boring and we wouldn't be needed."
He crosses his arms in front of his chest and complains "Besides, all the humans drove me to hide in the shadows while on the ship because they keep trying to force me to do servant work for them."
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"Thank you, Venture-Captain," Azeban says, the smallest of grins on his face. He is wearing fine clothes appropriate for the occasion, even going so far as to have them fit the fashions of Magnimar. His time with the others seems to have been spent perfecting his Common accent, so much that through the course of the two months, it is now all but undetectable in casual conversation to those not listening for it. "And it is better to be here and not be needed, than to be needed and not be here."
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Finally getting his land legs back after the lengthy bout at see, Orik is quite cross.
"Blasted Pathfin'ers! Nae 'un tol' mae it'd bae weeks at sea, now did they? 'Gae eskirt some ninny elf back 'ome to Mordan' Spire', they said. An' I said 'Shore that'll bae some easy coin tae add tae mae treasure troov', but naebody said a blasted word 'bout sailin' nae bloody ship 'alfway roun' the bloody worl', did they? An' nae yae want mae to gae back on tha' bloody boot and sail some'ore? Are yae daft, lassie? Are yae mad?"
Orik mutters a few more choice words to himself in dwarven, chewing on a dried ration and casting baleful glances at the Venture-Captain.
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After listening to Orik speak dwarven, Boram laughs. He then responds to Toshizo "I believe he said 'Blasted Pathfinders! No one told me it'd be weeks at sea, now did they? 'Go escort some ninny elf back home to Mordant Spire', they said. And I said 'Sure that'll be some easy coin to add to my treasure trove' but nobody said a blasted word about sailing no bloody ship halfway around the bloody world, did they? And now you want me to get back on the bloody boat and sail some more? Are you daft, lassie? Are you mad?'"with a fair impression of the dwarf. He says to Orik "By the way, I speak dwarven as well." with a smile on his face.
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"O'course yae dae, yae smart-aleck wee dragon snack. 'ssumin' every'un wants to speak the bonny mother tongue."
He turns his attention back to the Venture Captain. "Sae, if wae must goo oon this boot, what dae yae ken 'bout the captain and crew? Are they troostworthy sort r' are they nae better 'en pirates?"
"Barely better," Heidmarch replies with a shrug and a sigh.
“Passage on the Throaty Mermaid was arranged by Sephriel himself. He knew that a military escort or even a respectable merchant vessel might attract unwanted attention, and felt that no one would suspect his presence on a disreputable ship like the Throaty Mermaid. That’s why you’re there: to make sure the smugglers and thieves who make up the ship’s crew don’t cause him any problems.”
***
A week has passed since you left Magnimar, and the end of your voyage is in sight--metaphorically, at least. In fair conditions, you should reach the Mordant Spire in thee days' time.
It is a clear night, and the rest of the crew is about their business belowdecks or on their respective cabins.
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Azeban takes the opportunity to rest and sleeps.
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The Tien performer is on deck and suppitiously throws a secured rope over the front of the boat. His dark vision is used to ensure he knows where the watch is set on the boat to find the best moment to perform his great act of laceny.
He uses it to steady him as he slips over the prow and attempts to secure a souvinier... the pipe of the Mermaid. He acts instead like he is hugging the prow for fun if discovered.
The bard has chosen an opportune moment for a midnight prowl. He steps out of the cabin and turns about to close the door quietly, careful not to disturb his companions within.
The sound of footsteps catches his ear, and he turns around to see three lanky humanoids charging towards him, with a fourth climbing onto the deck from the water. The four figures are all dripping with sea water and clutching three-pronged tridents.
Turn Order
Enemy 1
Enemy 2
Enemy 4
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Toshizo
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Enemy 3
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Hearing the shout, Orik wakens readily, as he couldn't really sleep on the boat with all the rocking. He grabs for his war-axe and shield, cursing that he doesn't have his full armor. Then makes ready to wade barefoot into whatever awaits outside.
"T'arms laddies! Sounds like there's trooble oon boord t'boot! Fer yer father's sakes, to arms!"
The gills on the necks of these elfin figures betrays their origins to Boram and Toshizo--if the fact that they had just climbed up out of the sea was not a big enough clue. The two Pathfinders recognizes their attackers to be aquatic elves. The fact that they are attacking a human vessel indicates that these elves are part of the separatist group which has opposed the Mordant Spire's communications with mainland humans, the very venture from which Sephriel is now returning.
Boram further recalls that aquatic elves often coat their weapons with the staggering venom of the hunter urchin before joining battle, and the liquid too dark for sea water glistening on the tips of the elves' tridents and javelins confirms his fears.
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Init:
Gilfroy snaps awake and stands up. He casts a spell, and a (illusory) half-orc in leather armour carrying a pair of wicked-looking daggers rounds the corner from north of Boram, slips through the door, and stands in the square north of Hijikata. The half-orc swipes at the elf closest to Hijikata, but his swing comes up short.
Will DC 18 to disbelieve if they interact with it.
Then Gilfroy takes a 5-foot step towards the door (sorry, can't edit the map at work, somebody please move me one square to the left).
The elf in the back tosses a vial to the deck, steps forward, and launches a javelin toward Toshizo.
The projectile flies wide, and splashes into the sea many feet below. Two other elves jab with their tridents at Gilroy's figmental warrior.
Though their weapons pierce the empty air, neither infiltrator seems to notice. The final enemy is lucky enough to choose a more substantial target, and stabs at Felinros.
A prong pierces the half-orc's armor, and he reels back as a sharp pain blossoms from the wound.
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Orik grunts and rubs the sleep from his eyes "Damn'ble elves, attackin' us while wae oar sleepin'. Jes like 'em sneaky gits! Nae yae've rilly goot mae mad oon!" He lays into the attacking elves with his shield and axe, but the halfling rolling past gets his feet tangled up, and the attacks end up poorly aimed.
Felinros cuts down one of the raiders, while Orik and Toshizo fail to land blows.
The two nearest elves continue to assault Gilroy's illusory half-orc...
...but fail to recognize the figment. The remaining enemy draws a trident, and advances toward Toshizo.
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Azeban finishes his spell and slams the closed fist holding the petals to his open palm, channeling the magic to a point somewhere behind the enemies.
Unfortunately, it seems to have had little effect. Thinking quickly, Azeban starts casting another spell.
The rumble of thunder above signals the start of a storm....
Only one of them falls for it, possibly because the sound of thunder may not be as loud as Azeban would like.