The Grand Lodge has been quiet for months, with many of its more elite members out on extended mission. Over that last two weeks the temperature has fallen, leaving a brisk cool chill in the air. The sweet smell of a light colored wood that is burning vigorously in the room’s hearth permeates the entire lodge, creating a cozy-warm feel.
Many nights have passed since your last incursion and you find yourself wondering what the next adventure will reveal. The lack of activity in Absalom has you concerned that it might be a while before you see any new opportunities. With a small glimmer of hope, you recall seeing Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin pacing in the Lodge’s main office. It looked as if he had something concerning on his mind. You find yourself enjoying the comfort of the room with the hope that an assignment may be brewing. Almost on que, the Captain walks through the door.
While calmly brushing a hand over his well-kept beard, the Venture-Captain turns to you with a formidable look in his eye. “I want you to head down to the Master of Spells study and wait for me for there. I have a mission of importance for you to undertake. Unfortunately many of our more experienced members are engaged elsewhere, so I’m going to have to entrust that you have the skill to complete this mission in their absence.”
The Venture-Captain’s thoughts seem elsewhere and his mannerism appears slightly off as he walks out of the room and down the hall.
Quickly you gather your things and head down to the Master of Spells study, where you run into five other Pathfinders.
|
You can count on us, we're up to the tas...
The lithe young woman in the jaunty hat's bravado fades as the Venture Captain strides away without seeming to hear her.
She wears flowing clothes of scarlet trimmed in blue, and her brilliant blue eyes betray just a hint of otherworldly allure.
She eyes her companions with a wink.
Jinhong Yeou, at your service. A deep bow accompanies the greeting.
My friends, and that now includes you, call me "Jinny". My enemies fear me as "The Crimson Fox".
|
Ostrogard vaults off the over-stuffed chair he had been relaxing in and walks over to Jinny. He wears worn leather armor and earth-tone clothes. Two daggers, one at each hip, are sheathed on his belt
That was not exactly reassuring. I wonder what he meant by 'unfortunately many of our more experienced members are engaged elsewhere'?
He looks at Jinny quizzically, perhaps a moment too long.
Jinny, I am Ostrogard Thornhill. It is a pleasure to meet you.
|
Kardiv stands from his chair, picking up the bow that leans against the wall and slinging it across his back. As he moves towards the others, he brushes his short hair away from his face before extending a hand to first Ostrogard, then Jinny. I'm not sure what he meant, but I've no doubt that together we'll be up to the task. I'm Kardiv, pleasure to meet you both.
|
A dwarf in well used and functional, not fancy, armor stands from the hearth where he was sharpening his axe.
Well, I guess we'll be working together then. Pleasure to meet you all. I am Butharn, and this is my Axe. May we both serve you all and the Pathfinder Society well in our upcoming adventures.
As everyone makes their way into the study, the Master of spells quickly gathers everyone together in what could only be described as a summoning circle. After sparing a moment in quiet conversation with Captain Valsin, the Master of Spells pulls out a scroll, steps into the circle, and begins a complex ritual.
The grand wizard begins moving his hand in an intricate rhythm, positioning each finger precisely and with intent. An aura of vigilant light begins to form around the circle in a soft glow.
“Omnae Oprae Oulum.” The wizard says in a calm and meaningful way, which causes the glow to increase in intensity.
“Omnae Oprae Oulum!” He says again in a more commanding voice. With each incursion of the phrase, the circle begins to thrum with a powerful cadence.
“OMNAE OPRAE OULUM!” The grand wizard iterates with such forceful intent that it sends shivers down your spine.
As if by command, the cadence begins to increase in both size and speed. Soon the room begins to vibrate, which ends in a blinding flash. Momentarily you find yourself floating in a nexus of soft white light, with the Master of Spells, and the five other Pathfinders you meet as you entered the study.
For what seems like hours you watch as your mind feels like it is drifting in and out of a dreamlike existence. You begin to see memories of days long past. Some of the moments in time you recognize as your own, others you can only vaguely place as belonging to your comrades.
With a second flash of light and a stomach-churning shift, the cool, saline air of Absalom collapses into the stifling, wet heat of the Garundi coast. Within moments, sweat begins to ooze from your pores as the fetid stink of the local climate envelopes you like a damp blanket.
The scroll in the wizard’s hand crumbles into dust, its magic spent. The Pathfinder Society’s Master of Spells removes his hat and begins fanning himself. “All right Pathfinders, welcome to the blistering hole that is the Mwangi Expanse. Any of you who bother to keep up with your Chronicles know that the Society has an archaelogical expedition working in the Terwa Uplands, about 80 miles northwest of our position. Of course, I doubt if more than half of you read anything but dirty poetry, so allow me to sum up: the Azlant Ridge site shouldn’t be there. There are no known Azlanti sights in the Mwangi Expanse, but here we are. It may be the best-preserved evidence that the Azlanti at least visited the Mwangi Expanse. A servant of Angazhan called Ruthazek the Silverback King claims the site, too. His troops have laid siege to it and our people are starving, dying from disease, and running low on ammunition and personnel, which is where you come in.”
The Master of Spells points north through the tree line, where a ragtag city of boardwalks and wooden buildings straddles a swampy, red, river delta. “Your first stop is Bloodcove.” He chokes out the word as if it insulted his mother. “The Azlant Ridge site needs supplies, and Bloodcove is the nearest trade port. They need 2 tons of food and clean water, five crates of arrows and crossbow bolts, and clean dressings for wounds. House Cartahegn is your best choice as the Society works with them occasionally. We already arranged payment to a caravan leader named Raimondo Scevola several weeks ago. Make contact with him and have him carry everything north. Also, look for a man named Senzer somewhere in town. He was an alchemist funneling potions and information to our team in the Uplands, but he went silent a month ago. You need to find out why and get that stream of potions flowing again.”
“Don’t think this will be a simple trip to the market. Bloodcove is a pit founded by pirates and run by criminals—scum with no sense of achievement or appreciation for arcane advancement. Even worse, it’s a stronghold of the Aspis Consortium, which loves nothing more than perverting and profiting from Pathfinder discoveries like Azlant Ridge. Keep your heads down and do nothing to attract suspicion; perhaps adopt a disguise.”
“Normally I don’t give a damn if you heroic types kick in doors, make asses of yourselves, and die, but more than your lives rests on your shoulders now. If you fail and the Azlant Ridge site receives no backup, it will surely fall.”
Aram hands over a coin pouch. “As I said, we arranged payment for your caravan some time ago. This should cover the cost of supplies. If you dip into your own resources and manage to survive, the Society will attempt to reimburse you.”
“Once you deal with that business, head northwest.” He presents a sealed scroll case and an ornate, golden key on a leather thong. “Guard these with your lives. The key’s exact purpose eludes me, but the symbol it bears is repeated on a doorway at Azlant Ridge. The scroll case contains a map to the dig site. My magics secure the case, though, and it will explode violently if opened within five miles of Bloodcove.”
“Ask your questions now. I return to Absalom the moment I believe you capable of getting to Bloodcove.”
|
|
My gods, the air here is stifling. I think perhaps Ginny has the right outfit. I may have to look into, gods forbid, going without my armor.
No matter all that though, your wizardliness, we'll do our best to get what is needed to the besieged. And I'll do my best not to proclaim who I am and what I am dong far and wide.
|
|
Some of the fragments of memories you saw:
- A young Jinny, clad in more austere and drab clothing, holding an improvised wooden stake at the throat of an obese man. Two human Tian-Xian children stand by in tatters of clothes, watching earnestly.
- Jinny trying on a fancy hat and smiling to herself in the mirror.
- A first-person perspective, running low to the ground and into a hole without slowing down.
- The obese man from before, dead and bloody, with Jinny furtively taking the contents of his purse.
- Jinny, performing an elaborate dance of many spins and wild arm movements, for an audience of no one.
- Waking up to the measured breathing of a beloved reddish orange dog (?) sleeping next to you.
It appears I must go incognito, my stout friend. I think you have the right of it -- my outfit fairly shouts while yours speaks with a whisper.
As she begins to shed her bright outer clothing, she asks the Master of Spells
Do you have any thoughts as to what would constitute a good disguise? Do they accept tradesmen there or is it a criminal-only town?
Jinhong Yeou considers everything she has heard about the local area and comes up blank, when it comes to Bloodcove. The only thing that comes to mind are child stories about the city being the most bloodthirsty pirate den around, but those are just children stories right? Besides everyone knows that Riddleport is the preferred port for pirates.
The master of spells finds a sturdy tree close by, leans up against it while crossing his arms across his chest. He has a look, that could only be described as curiosity, on his face as he waits patiently for the group to decided how they wish to navigate into Bloodcove.
"Well you could sneak around if you are carful I suppose. Maybe a merchant wouldn't stand out to much."
The wizard points out a couple large caravans entering the city from more than one land base entrance. He also points out a large number of sailing ships anchoring off the port as well. After taking a longer look at the dwarf he looks up and offers a couple more possibilities. " Well, I think brigand, mercenary, merchant, or turncoat wouldn't be out of the question." Then he shrugs, "I guess I'm not much help with this kind of thing."
|
|
Jinny considers the group.
We are too well armed and armored to be mistaken for casual merchants. I think brigands or mercenaries is our lie. I suggest we take care of the caravan first, as that would seem to be the first priority.
She turns to the Master of Spells.
What was the last heard from Master Senzer? Did he have other contacts in town that we might press for information?
“Senzer Rulkep originally came to Bloodcove from Sothis nearly 20 years ago. He hates Bloodcove, but lacks the money to move his shop and 12-year-old son to a cooler city along the Inner Sea.”
“About three years ago, he began passing along local rumors and magical resources to the Society, with the understanding that we would eventually move him to Absalom. As the primary contact for the Society’s Azlant Ridge excavation, Senzer’s sudden silence has put us in a pickle.”
“If memory serves me correctly, he has a shop somewhere on the western border of the city. I would consider locating his shop and try to ascertain its current state of affairs. Someone in the city will likely know where the shop is located.”
|
A short, dark feathered Tengu steps quietly into the Master's study, finishing up a donning of his leather armor as he does so. He looks fairly agile, yes somewhat muscular. He has an obvious star shaped section on the back of his neck where his feathers are much shorter and darker, almost as if they simply never grew there.
It's about time, I've been itching for an adventure!
Surprised at seeing a larger group than he is used to adventuring with, he states with a tone that almost, only almost, sounds like concern as to the likelihood of success
Well, I thought it was odd that Valsin seemed to want more experienced Pathfinders to complete his task, but I guess he decided sheer number would make up for it
I am Girzog, agent of the Grand Lodge. I wish I could tell you from where I hail, but considering I was raised in 4 villages by 5 families, it's more than we likely have time for, at the moment.
As he sees the circle start to glow, you notice a hint of panic for just a moment, almost as if he knows something bad is about to happen
- The Tengu sitting in a circle with five others around a lit candle, followed by glimpses of him trapped in a doorless room, and fighting some sort of creatures made of mist
- A young tengu running from a village, mostly of burning huts, as a dark green arm wraps around his chest and takes him from the ground
- Clearly that same tengu, some years later, training in hand-to-hand combat with a group of orcs
- Girzog in a round room with multiple pillars, as a nearby humanoid touches a pillar, causing Girzog's neck to burn - clearly where his scar was created
After arriving in the unknown location, the tense Tengu quickly loosens up, realizing whatever horror he expected did not come to pass. Listening to the Master's instruction, he asks
I have only two question. First and foremost, do we know we can trust this 'Scevola' character? Second, I don't suppose you brought any Aspis identification for us to use on this mission? Of course we can make do ourselves if not, but it couldn't hurt to ask. Either way we will succeed, I promise.
The Master of Spells adjusts himself slightly to face Girzog. " Unless something has happened to compromise Scevola, I would say he can be trusted. You will have to use your best judgment when dealing with him, or anyone from Bloodcove for that matter. As fare as telling the Aspis agents is concerned, the only method we currently have is there intent. As annoying as that is, they can't tell who works for us any easier."
|
|
Thank you for your help Master, we will take care of it
Looking back to the group, Girzog begins to spread small amounts of dirt in various clumps of his feathers. Wearing only his leather armor, he already is dressed like an average (or above so) mercenary.
I wouldn't be much of a mercenary if I was clipped and clean I guess. As long as we respect Bloodcove's "business first" mentality, we shouldn't have much issue doing what we need to. That's pretty much their number one rule here. If I remember correctly, House Cartahegn is a fierce economic and political enemy of the Consortium. Hopefully we can keep knowledge of our allegiances to as few people as possible, but if we need to share it with anyone, they are likely our best bet. I wouldn't call them friends, but at a bare minimum "the enemy of my enemy" applies here.
I'm not much for niceties, but if we need someone to make a threat here or there, I'm your guy. For now, I'll take the "silent and scary" role and let one of you smooth talk us through.
|
|
Butharn starts looking through his gear to make sure that any signs of pathfinder make are well disguised or hidden.
Aye, Mercs seems like the most likely, lets come up with a name for our group. I like "The Band of the Hand" or using the Birdman's mark, "The Red Stars." We could arrange to come in a bit behind one of the caravans and ask after them as if they owe us money and are trying to stiff us by having us guard the rear and then sneak away.
|
|
I like your thinking, Butharn, almost as much as I like your thick, strong arms, says Jinny with a wink at the dwarf.
But best we not make unnecessary enemies of the caravan, lest they begin asking inopportune questions of us.
She glances approvingly at Girzog's scar.
I like "Black Star Brotherhood". We can play it off that we all have a hidden star branded into our skin.
She glances apprehensively at the Tengu.
If that's...that's not too painful a memory, friend Girzog?
|
|
During the teleport, the following images appear in your consciousness:
Through someone else's eyes, you see two older halflings, one male and one female, talking to a well dressed middle aged human male. By their dress, the haflings appear to be craftsmen of some sort. They are located on a pier next to a river. A few barges look to be under repair nearby. The human and the halfings are doing some sort of business. The human is disdainful towrd the halflings, who are in turn act almost subservient to the human, ignoring his rudeness. You hear the thoughts of whoever you are sharing this vision with. I hate this place., he thinks, I cannot wait to be gone.
Ostrogard looks down at his worn leather armor and his two daggers. I believe I already look the part of a brigand, he says with a grin.
Looking at his wayfinder, he adds, Better hide this in my pack, though, wouldn't want any Aspis agents to get a look of this.
The heat of the Mwangi Expanse continues to linger as a number of Bloodcove citizens make their way through the streets, while lighting old rusty looking lanterns, in preparations of nightfall. Although the sun has yet to fully set, many of the local merchants have already begun to prepare their shops for closing. The salty smell of the ocean heavily mingles with the days catch, as five young deckhands quickly make their way to a local market with a cart full of fresh fish. More than a couple scantily clad youths run through the streets, unsupervised, participating in some sort of game.
At least (4) moderate size merchant caravans’ crowd the streets, competing for room, as you and your group make your way into BLOODCOVE! Cautiously you navigate through the twisted streets to the first intersection. On your way, you pass by a bait and tackle store, a general goods shop, a bakery, a tobacco shop, (3) empty ware houses, and a rundown tavern called the Rusty Bucket. With the heavy distraction of the (4) caravans entering the city, many of the locals seem too preoccupied or busy with organizing the influx of incoming merchandise to notice your group pass by.
|
|
Girzog keeps pace at the front of the group, quietly running his claws along each other, as if sharpening each set with the other.
What a start to this mission. We were to foolish to even ask what this Scevola looked like...
Girzog looks to the group and quietly says
I don't suppose any of you had the sense to ask the Master of Spells what this man looks like? If not, I'm probably not the best one to ask around for him right now.
|
|
Jinny whispers to Girzog,
Worry not. I have some skill in this regard.
Locating the nearest caravan worker she can find, she barks at them,
You there. Where can I find Raimondo Scevola? He promised me work and I have traveled far.
She continues this technique until she finds some useful information.
|
|
Dumm stands with the others, a muscular half-elf in need of a bath. His long hair is carefully braided but unevenly washed, and decorated here and there with feathers and small bones. His armor is made of stiff leather, and he carries a large sword on his back. "Happy I see you again," he tells the venture-captain without much enthusiasm, knowing that such greetings are the polite way to get about in the Society.
There's something off about that girl, his hunter's instincts tell him when his eyes fall on Jinny. She looks human, but smells like fur. Another shifter? His heart leaps at the thought. The only other shifter he'd met so far had tried to kill him and his allies.
As they gather in the Master of Spells' magic, images of his own past and those of others whirl before Dumm's eyes.
A man carries a small child into the woods and lays him on the ground. "Please be enough," he whispers. No one else is in sight. The man leaves without another word.
FLASH!
The boy, now old enough to walk, is holding a hand-made spear. He throws it at a rabbit, but the spear goes wide and the rabbit darts away.
FLASH!
The boy is holding a sling made of a strip of leather, and chasing a squirrel. He twirls it around his head and lets loose a small stone. The stone strikes true, and the creature falls to the ground dead.
FLASH!
The boy, now a man, is standing uncertainly at the edge of a camp of humans, holding a spear. The humans are grinning to each other.
"I think he's just dumb," one of the humans says.
"D... Dumm," the man agrees.
Was that... was that my father? Dumm wonders. Far too young to remember, Dumm had never known why he was abandoned or how he had survived, nor did he care to. He bristles-- some parts of his past were probably best left there. It doesn't matter. I lived, and I'll live still.
Dumm chuckles at the disguising process. He knows that his appearance is what most would call 'uncivilized,' and he likes it that way. Doubtless he'd be able to pass as some sort of mercenary without changing much about himself. "I am look like bandit now, yes? Bandit who hides in tree." He does his best to keep up appearances among the unknown people.
|
|
Jinny smells the brute long before she sees him.
Now, why is he looking at me funny?
Oh, Jinny. You forget how gods-touched cute you are. Best be careful with this one's emotions. He may take a little harmless flirting to heart.
Well, no shortage of male hormones in this bunch. I should be in charge of the group in no time.
Oh, what an unfortunate name he's chosen! Should I explain it to him, or...?
Yes, Dumm. You are a very good bandit. You are a very good, quiet bandit.
As the group starts asking around about Scevola, a couple of the children that have been running around, stop abruptly in front of the group. One of the children, the youngest of the lot, looks up at the Tengu with her mouth wide open. "Moma! Look it’s a giant bird-man," the girl shouts as she attempts to reach out and pet Girzog, while a much older boy moves behind the Tengu with a rock in his hand. “I wonder if the stooped bird-man can FLY! It becomes painfully obvious that the boy intends to throw a rock at Girzog in an attempt to motivate him to fly!
With the added attention that the children bring, Jinhong Yeou easily manages to gain the attention of one of the caravan drivers. After listening to Jinhong explain her need for work, the man sets the wagon's brake, and then climbs down out of the wagon. “Last time I seen Raimondo he was looking for a fresh set of horses. He said something about a new client with deep pockets. He invited me to join him for a drink at a small club called the Wandering Way, its located on the edge of Free Trade Square.” Without being asked, the caravan driver provides Jinhong with specific instructions on how to get to the Wandering Way.
Shortly after his conversation with Jinhong, the man climbs back up into his wagon and yells at the child with the rock. “Erick! Stop bothering that bird-man and get your behind back in the wagon! NOW!
The young boy looks at Girzog and then drops the rock. “I’ll get you next time bird-man,” the boy says as he heads back to the wagon. As the caravan pulls out, you can see the young boy sitting in the back of the wagon staring at Girzog.
The group navigates through the busy streets of Bloodcover till you reach Free Trade Square. Nestled off the street a bit, is a small rundown establishment that has a dilapidated sign hanging in the front that reads (The Wondering Way). The building seems quiet, but is obviously open for business. You approach the establishment and enter.
The humid stink of Bloodcove mingles with the reek of sweat and the sickly-sweet odor of tropical plants and exotic tobaccos. The foyer of the guild house looks more like a tavern than a place of business, with tables carved from dark jungle woods and overstuffed cushions. Older men and women mingle or brood over their drinks, while strapping young toughs claim the area around the cold hearth.
Across the room, a swarthy, moustachioed man bellows in anger. He sweeps an arm across the tabletop shared with a red cheeked companion, spilling drinks and playing cards onto the carpet. “You bashterd,” he drunkenly shrieks, “You scheating bashterd, Elanzo! I need thoshe animalsh! I have a client whoshe paid fer my caravan!”
His companion wrings the remains of his drink out of his shirt. “No one cares, Scevola. Those were the stakes, and your horses will be chow for my men before we set sail in the morning!” “You shlipped shomethin in mah drink! You’re taking my horshesh over mah dead body!” Elanzo simply shrugs at this and snaps his fingers. The large brutes (Brute (1) Pink ), (Brute (2) Red) gathered by the hearth stand up and begin moving toward the pair.
|
|
Dumm watches the two brutes move in. "If this is man we look for, we should make him safe." He draws his large sword. he shouts across the room.
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
|
Jinny whispers back to Ostrogard,
Right you are, and not a moment too soon.
Dammit, Jinny! Why didn't you get them to agree on a "leader" before we got into this mess? I hope no one takes offense -- that could ruin the ruse.
She steps to the front of the group haughtily as de facto speaker, but is interrupted briefly by the barbarian's outburst.
Well, thanks, Dumm. What part of silent did you not get? Gah! All right, let's go with it.
Hold there! We have business with this man and his caravan. If you have a problem with him, then you have a problem with the Black Star Brotherhood.
Well, cutey, looks like you're my second in command.
With a meaningful look, she orders Ostrogard,
Fetch the bartender. I want to know how many drinks this man has had tonight.
|
|
Staring at the boy planning to chuck a rock his way, Girzog lets out an audible growl, making sure the boy knows he would regret doing anything foolish.
If I'm going to stand out as a Tengu, I might as well just convince everyone getting too involved is a bad idea
Inside, Girzog follows behind Jinny, lightly scratching his scar as she mentions the Brotherhood, making sure to bring attention to the mark. He lets out the same menacing growl as earlier with the boy, opening his arms slightly, to show he is ready to swipe to protect the man.
The two rugged men, by the hearth, momentarily pause in response to Jinhong’s announcement. After looking over the intimidating prows of Kardiv and Girzo, they come to a complete stop.
Scevola continues to banter in a drunken tirade. “Sheee Elancheo, I told chu that chu woldsh be shorry.”
The red checked man sitting next to Scevola stands and continues to wring out the wine from his shirt. “So may I ask who you are? I apologize for this drunken fool here. I’m afraid he has had a little more than he can handle. I’m Elanzo by the way, and a game of chance is my game. From the looks of it, I seem to have an extra set of fine horses to wager or sell.”
From behind the bare, an older looking man, stands quietly drying a set of glass mugs. When Ostrogard approaches the bar, the man greats him. “Well met friend, I’m willing to serve you up a tankard on the house, if ya avoid bashing my place up.” After considering Ostrogard’s question the bare keep leans over the bar and says in a low voice. “He has had five pints so fare, if ya know what I mean.”
|
|
You have the pleasure of meeting Jinhong Yeou, and my companions the Black Star Brotherhood.
She sizes Elanzo up and decides he may be trustworthy.
It remains to be seen whether our employer's drunken state is the result of too much to drink, or a drug slipped into his drink as he claims. She calls out to the bar, Ostrogard, what news?
She draws herself up to her full five foot five and returns her attention to the merchant.
But in any case, we need him and he needs horses. How did he come to lose them?
She leaves the implication open that the Black Star Brotherhood may be willing to earn the horses back, should the accusation be false.
Elanzo straitens out his attire to the point that he once again looks presentable. “Well now lass, you look to be a reasonable woman. I have won this man’s horses in fare game of chance. You see, I intend to set sail by noon tomorrow. Those horses will provide the good lads, who work so hard keeping my decks clean, nourishment for a fair part of the voyage. With consideration of Scevola’s predicament, I would be willing to separate with my winnings for a fair market exchange, if you would.
The sea captain puts a hand to his chin as he considers the value of his winnings. “Let’s see, based on the current rate of sea rations, worthy enough to replace the beasts, I would need around 300 gold. That should do fine, 300 gold it is then. If you are willing to part with but a small amount of the shiny coin, then I would be more than willing to overlook this poor man’s debt, and be on my way.”
During the conversation, Scevola attempts to stand but quickly loses his legs and topples to the ground. “Don’t do it, thish mansa stolen ma horshes. He’s ship somfin inma drink!”