More recently the increasing warmth of the approaching summer has made the evenings of Absalom the best time for gatherings. This evening the society has called a large gathering within the society’s grand audience chamber. Several hundred of your fellow agents mingle around a large stage in the center of the room. As the surrounding noise of the gathering echoes through the room, three prominent figures take the stage. The first is easily recognized as the society’s Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus, who raises his hands with a commanding presence.
PLEASE!....Please! Quiet! We have an important announcement! Shortly, the noise in the audience chamber begins to settle. Standing next to the Master of Swords is the former Chelish liaison Zarta Dralneen, who smiles with an obviously fake temperament. On the other side of the Master of Swords stand A tall, heavy-set woman wearing a black-lacquered breastplate and a sweeping ruby cloak. She rests a hand on the gold pommel of the longsword at her hip as she readies to address the assembled Pathfinders. She nods once to Marcos Farabellus before beginning.
“I am Ianareth Alazario, and I come to you with words spoken by Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune. Pathfinders, your exile is at an end. Cheliax welcomes you once again.”
Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus vigorously leads a round of applause that echoes off the sturdy walls following the new declaration. Ianareth’s smile is as wide as her host’s, though it falters slightly when her gaze falls on her disgraced predecessor Zarta Dralneen. Ianareth continues,
“With your help, I would mend the rifts between us and forge an enduring friendship. I have entrusted your Master of Swords with several promising leads found within our borders. To that I add only this: Pathfinders, the glory of Cheliax is placed in your care.” Ianareth bows deeply to Marcos and then to the crowd before taking her leave. Marcos Farabellus steps behind the lectern and begins the second part of the announcement.
“I’ve gathered a handful of teams to lead these initial expeditions, and I’ve posted those outside with times to meet me in my office for more details. There’s rewarding work ahead, so don’t be late!” With that, the auditorium begins to empty. Walking briskly with infinite poise and a clenched jaw, Zarta Dralneen is the first to disappear through the doors.
Crowds begin to gather at three different locations that have been designated for lists. After pursing through the different lists, you finally see your name posted next to five other agents and a time to meet the Master of Swords.
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Fundir stands in the back of the auditorium, anxious to hear the words of his leaders, but very much uncomfortable with the crowded quarters. At almost the moment that the speeches are concluded, he rushes the door to escape the press of Pathfinders. He quickly finds his name on the lists and reports as ordered for his mission. Winding his way through the halls, the Nagaji's features seldom resemble any one being as they shift back and forth between bestial aspects and grant him various boons for each countenance he adopts. Once he is in the room, he exhales as he realizes that he is the first to make it thus far. He can relax for a few moments, at least. Although his short career with the Pathfinders has allowed him to get a little more comfortable with others, habits adopted during his lonely wandering in the woods and forests of his home still nag at him.
Standing in a corner of the room, a heavy mace hangs by his side, his buckler swinging from the handle for easy grasp, and his mountain pattern armor glints dully beneath his travelling clothes. He awaits the others while thinking fondly of the open road to come.
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Felli listened to the big wigs speak as they gathered in the auditorium and smirked to himself, wondering how much political intrigue and backstabbing will be going on in the future. Should be interesting. When their speeches ended he slipped out as silently as he entered and headed toward the meeting place posted for him.
Felli entered into the room, wearing a black cloak with hood up. Leather armor with a short sword slightly hidden beneath. His eyes are hidden but he smirks in the direction of the one here before him before he removed the hood. He adjusted the short bow on his back before he moved to the opposite wall and leans on it.
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Serge sits in one of the chairs, his chest collapsed and his eyes on the ground, half listening to what he would consider shocking news as he struggled to stay awake.
Cheliax? I'm to believe we're welcome in Cheliax now?
He takes a swig from his waterskin. The scent of the liquid inside would have you believe it's not water at all. Purple bags adorn the underside of his eyes and his mouth hangs open as he alternates between having a drink and yawning.
Joining the Society meant traveling to the lands of the Diabolical Empire. Devils, infernal agents, demons... Oh, Ragathiel, guide me...
He slowly stands from his chair as the audience disperses and lazily makes his way towards the lists of names, using the wall for leverage. Examining the list, he says a few of the names as he traces his finger haphazardly along the page. "Fundir, Felli, ..." He coughs a few times and doesn't continuing reading. He slowly moves towards the Master of Swords' chamber while fiddling with a tiny hourglass between his fingers.
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Aderen watched the whole thing with a fanged smile on his face - "It feels oh so good to be welcomed" - he chuckled as the assembly came to an end, and made his way to where all the names are posted. Finding his own there brought another smile, as he was already feeling his pouch becoming overly light for his taste.
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He entered the Master of Swords' room casually, taking note of all the others already there - his attire had clearly seen good use, and probably in need of repairs here and there, but the lamellar plated leather seemed to be in good condition, as well as the scimitar and mace dangling easily at his waist - "Well met brothers - I am Ederen" - he nodded at each one of those present - "Any idea what this is all about?" - the half-orc stated flatly, as he moved to one of the corners.
His frame is strong, but moves lightly, even in spite of the bulging backpack, and multiple weapons about him - "Not complaining, just asking" - he adds with a shrug.
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Brothers, he calls us?
Serge leans against a wall and momentarily raises his index finger at Ederen as he passes by as a substitute for a handshake. "I'm Serge. Can you believe they're telling us we can travel right into the heart of the diabolical empire? It seems awfully foreboding. Someone with my beliefs would never be welcome there." His eyes are half closed as he speaks, still twiddling with his hourglass in one hand all the while.
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Brothers, he calls us?
Serge leans against a wall and momentarily raises his index finger at Ederen as he passes by as a substitute for a handshake. "I'm Serge. Can you believe they're telling us we can travel right into the heart of the diabolical empire? It seems awfully foreboding. Someone with my beliefs would never be welcome there." His eyes are half closed as he speaks, still twiddling with his hourglass in one hand all the while.
"Well met to you" - the half-orc nodded at Serge - "Don't know if I believe it. I mean... There has got to be some reason behind it all. There are no free lunches" - he smiles - "And what are your beliefs?"
Felli yawned, "I'm Felli. Not really sure what we are expected to do but considering the location, probably something to do with espionage."
"Meh, not really my expertise" - he shrugs - "But I can give it a try. Are you bored with something?"
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"My beliefs?" Serge looks at Ereden as he considers the question. He stops leaning on the wall and stands as tall as he can given his earlier imbibements. "Ragathiel's eyes fall upon you, friend. May his wings shield us from certain evil, guide us in our time of need, and remind me of the duty to serve and protect those I travel with." His words come off much like a prayer rather than a direct answer to the half-orc's question.
Serge sighs heavily. "Had I spoken such words in Cheliax, I am not sure I would still be standing here."
As you enter, Zarta Dralneen stands across the Master of Swords’ desk, her back turned to you. She momentarily acknowledges the newcomers before continuing to lecture Farabellus.
“Beware the good intentions of a Chelish diplomat. Who controls whom behind closed doors in Cheliax, and who are we serving by heeding the call of Abrogail’s infernal masters?”
Marcos strokes his beard for a moment, buying time to phrase his reply.
“Caution is warranted, but you shouldn’t let past follies color your opinion of this opportunity, Zarta. This is our chance to freely operate within Cheliax again. The doors of Delvehaven may still be closed, but we can start to mend soured relations.”
Marcos turns to the recently arrived agents.
“I expect everyone who takes an assignment to conduct themselves as diplomats as well as explorers. We don’t need a public debacle to ruin our welcome, again.”
Zarta straightens her back and glares imperiously down at her counterpart.
“Folly? One day you will look between the sheets and see you’ve climbed into bed with a snake, Marcos. I sincerely hope none of your agents find themselves in desperate need of a retrieval team; I remind you that devils work quickly strips hope from one’s senses.” She turns and strides out of the room.
The Master of Swords massages his forehead with one hand and motions to chairs with the other.
“Lady Dralneen assumes that we take Cheliax entirely at its word. Ianareth Alazario provided me an incomplete history of a small keep in the Eismonts called Emberhold, once property of House Davian. The reason we don’t hear much of the Davians anymore is that they led the resistance against House Thrune during the Chelish civil war, and her infernal majestrix is not known for showing mercy. I’m sending you to explore the site, learn what you can about what happened there, and bring back any information about the Davians.”
He leans forward and lowers his voice before adding, “You’ll be traveling through Corentyn, and I’d like you to pay a visit to the Museum of History there first. The curator, Zefiro Balinger, is an acquaintance of the Society and may have details not available in the official records. Get Balinger’s help, then visit Emberhold.” Marcos presents a small folded map. “You’ll leave Absalom aboard the Sea Sylph in two days—Society’s picking up the tab. It’s been years since we’ve had first-hand reports coming out of Cheliax, so be ready for anything.”
Until approximately three years ago, Paracountess Zarta Dralneen served as the Chelish liaison to the Pathfinder Society—the role that Ianareth Alazario now fills.
Zarta’s tenure ended abruptly after she disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Society agents tracked her down and rescued her, after which she severed her ties to Cheliax and founded the Dark Archive.
Delvehaven, a prestigious Pathfinder Lodge in Westcrown, has been sealed since 4676 AR, when a terrible tragedy in its halls threatened the stability of the city.
Certain Chelish officials “disappeared” Zarta based on fictitious evidence submitted by one of Zarta’s political rivals. Despite the Pathfinder Society’s providing evidence to disprove these false accusations and exonerate her, Cheliax has provided neither any acknowledgement of or apology for imprisoning and punishing her for crimes she did not commit.
Only Thrune-sanctioned Pathfinders were allowed to operate in the region prior to Delvehaven’s closure. Reports from Delvehaven were heavily redacted, contained little information of value, and worse, artifacts began to disappear. Tensions between Cheliax and legitimate Pathfinders were ruinous for years even before Thrune closed Delvehaven; even with Zarta’s influence, the Society managed only a handful of expeditions in Cheliax over the past decade.
House Davian, led by Duchess Lannavia Davian, challenged Thrune for control of Cheliax at the Battle of a Hundred Kings, a struggle that devastated Corentyn near the end of the civil war. The house’s holdings included much of the nation’s west coast.
Thrune retaliated by utterly crushing the Davians. Numerous revisions of Cheliax’s official history have downplayed the Davians’ role during the civil war, such that many don’t even remember the Davian name, much less that the great house almost defeated Thrune.
Cheliax’s state religion reveres Asmodeus. Though other faiths are not forbidden, none may flout the nation’s laws, challenge the mandates of Asmodeus, or defy House Thrune. Those who revere chaotic deities in particular often find themselves under especially close scrutiny.
It’s an open secret that several clandestine and very illegal organizations operate throughout Cheliax. This includes the Bellflower Network, a halfling-run group that liberates the halfling slaves so common in the country. Even discussing the organization openly might be considered a criminal act, if done so under the wrong circumstances.
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The sound of short noises of a small songbird come from the doorway.
Through it, steps a young woman with ravenblack hair and soft decorative tattoos, wearing a purple attire.
Putting her hair behind her ear with a hand, she smiles gently.
"Sorry i'm late, something held me up. Songbirds seem to be a child magnet."
As she looks over the attendees....."Ah, and contrary to the last time, it's an all men team i travel with?"
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"My beliefs?" Serge looks at Ereden as he considers the question. He stops leaning on the wall and stands as tall as he can given his earlier imbibements. "Ragathiel's eyes fall upon you, friend. May his wings shield us from certain evil, guide us in our time of need, and remind me of the duty to serve and protect those I travel with." His words come off much like a prayer rather than a direct answer to the half-orc's question.
Serge sighs heavily. "Had I spoken such words in Cheliax, I am not sure I would still be standing here."
"I am not a religious one but... That was well spoken" - Ederen nods at the Paladin - "And I am not sure about that, word is that Cheliax is changing?" - and he shrugs yet again.
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The half-orc raises an eyebrow at the attractive young woman as she steps inside - "That must have been an interesting group for sure" - he smiles - "I'm Ederen. Well met"
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Serge listens as closely as he can. The liquor's wearing off, at least, and he was sure to water down what he did drink. He nods and manages a smile at the latest arrival, then responds, "I do hope you are right about it changing, Ederen."
"Obviously I don't know much about Cheliax, but I do know that until about three years ago, Paracountess Zarta Dralneen served as the Chelish liaison to the Pathfinder Society - the role that Ianareth Alazario now fills. Doesn't bode well considering Zarta storming off like she just did..." He shrugs, not really knowing what to make of it.
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Felli smirked while he responded to Ederen, "Not bored. Just a little lack of sleep. I frequent parties and special events regularly. Great source of information when people have had too much to drink."
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As the young woman newcomer arrived, "Don't worry. I'm sure most of us won't bite you. That being said. I'll see you all in two days at the docks" Felli walked past everyone and left the room while he put the cloak's hood back over his head.
After two days of preparation, you make your way to the docks of Absalom, where you see the ship known as the Sea Sylph. The ship is currently tied off to one of the dock’s larger alcoves with a plank running from the dock to the ship’s deck. As you approach, you make note of six crewmen moving back and forth while loading creates marked with the society’s crest. Overseeing the process is a tall, thin, man wearing a dark red smoking jacket. The man appears to be going over a cargo manifest when he spots the group approaching. Without hesitation he greats everyone.
"Well met! My name is Ian Mc Doogledif. I am here on behalf of the Master of Swords. I have been commissioned to oversee the loading of the society’s equipment. They are sending a few provisions to aid you in the excavation of anything that might be potentially interesting.”
After taking a moment to once again glance through the manifest, he continues. “It looks like your cargo includes mostly archeological equipment. Different size bundles of rope, sieves, packing straw, miscellaneous tools, and a number of different size empty crates seems to be the bulk of it. The society has also included a modest amount of gold to pay for the export and import taxes.” After taking a moment to think, he hold up a finger. “Oh, I almost forgot! Marcos wanted me to give you this note!”
After the brief introduction, Mc Doogledif begins making his way to the ships storage hold. In parting, he shouts back over his shoulder, “One last thing, Zart Dralneen is sending an agent with you to make arrangements for your equipment in Corentyn.”
After boarding the Sea Sylph, it sets sail. The ship’s Captain, Zaerim Cliffbottom, makes sure everyone has acceptable quarters for the duration of the trip. With the exception of a quick stop in Merab, the trip seems uneventful as the ship hugs the shores of the inner sea in an attempt to avoid Chelish navel patrols. Days later, you finally hear one of the crewmen shout, ”Corentyn, dead ahead, captain!” In the distance, a large red flag of the Chelish Empire emerges from the horizon.
As the Sea Sylph approaches Corentyn, the last fiery golden rays of daylight silhouette the towering monument known as Aroden’s Arch, which reaches out from Corentyn’s southern wall to divide the Arcadian Ocean and the Inner Sea. Corentyn’s numerous fortifications rise behind mighty gray and brown limestone walls. Masts of ships both in port and at sea rise in the hundreds, like a legion pointing their spears toward the heavens.
While the Sea Sylph slowly makes its way closer to Corenton's harbor, Captain Cliffbottom begins shouting order to his men.
The captain points at a crewman who had been waiting instruction.
After giving some very loud and strong directives, the captain turns to the group.
"I will be busy until we dock. If I where you, I would make sure you have a list of all your items quick at hand. Chelish custom enforcers don't like to be delayed with disorganization. Luckily, I have a solid manifest of your cargo, so the only things you will need to claim are your personal items."
Leaning forward the captain continues in a lowered voice. "Please don't get caught smuggling any contraband. They are quick with the lash, and I really would prefer not to be on the business end of a chelish lash, if you know what I mean." After parting with what he considers to be a piece of good advice, the captain makes his way below deck.
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Fundir spends most of the trip roaming the decks, unsure of his position on board the ship. He is made claustrophobic by the cramped quarters below decks, and finds the limited wandering available to be stifling. he joins in with his companions at meal times, sharing the conversation and getting to know his team mates. Once the port fades into view and the captain begins bustling about, Fundir perks up immensely at the idea of getting onto land.
However, he becomes agitated at the Captains concern for their items.
"Ssssir? What ssssort of items are they looking for? By what lawssss ssshould we be concerned??" he asks, worried about starting off their mission on the wrong foot.
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With the mention of contraband, Serge tugs his waterskin from his side and empties its contents into the sea, the pale brown liquid blending into the water seamlessly. Alcohol seemed innocuous enough but taking a risk here wasn't something he was even considering.
"I.... Haven't anything to hide either. What would they be confiscating, anyway?" He stands near the port side of the ship, taking in the view with both awe and anxiety. This was the first time he had set eyes on a Chelish city, let alone the Arch of Aroden. He grips his sword tightly and silently mouths another prayer.
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Don't worry. I'm sure most of us won't bite you.
"Good....i have a partner who'd not forgive you if you did.", she laughs as she points at the songbird on her shoulder.
-------Current time--------
"What's all the sudden ruckus about?", the young woman yawns slightly, as she stretches her arms while on deck, after a turbulant dream kept her sleepy longer than usual.
"An inspection huh....", she leans on the side of the ship, one hand on it, her head resting in the other.
I.... Haven't anything to hide either. What would they be confiscating, anyway
"Don't worry, as long as you're not smuggling anything forbidden, you should be fine."
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The green skinned nagaji threw the door open to the Master of Swords office a little too harshly, bringing a loud into the room as it slammed against the wall. "Ahem...oops. Apologies about that and for my lateness. I was held up on other business. Time has moved quickly this day." He introduced himself to the others as well as Zarta and Marcos, pausing and smiling at each as he drank in the scene. "I am Tata Sisbil. Well met."
After the introductions were made and the mission was doled out, Tata grinned and sized up the other members of his traveling party, guessing each to be capable companions. He was intrigued by the thought of traveling with another of his race, which he considered a treat as they were quite rare, even in Absalom. After all questions were answered and instructions delivered, Tata rose, bowed and agreed to meet everyone at the docks.
Aboard the ship, Tata is dressed in a bright colored explorer's outfit, new black boots and smells of a spicy wood like odor. He makes conversation with everyone he can, coming off at various times as both aloof and well educated and others as brash and simple. He seems confident at all times and his eyes hold a deep intensity.
Looking forward to seeing this land of Cheliax, he looks after his equipment, ensuring he is ready to depart.
However, he becomes agitated at the Captains concern for their items. "Ssssir? What ssssort of items are they looking for? By what lawssss ssshould we be concerned??" he asks, worried about starting off their mission on the wrong foot.
The captain listens to the group’s concerns as he begins helping the crew to organize the port side of the ship’s cargo.
“This is only my second trip into Corenton, but the last time we were here, they confiscated a few items from the crew as well as a religious book I had. I recall the crew mentioning a couple weapons that had been taken along with a vial of poison that was found in one of the crates. I was really worried about the poison, seeing I had no idea that it was there. Luckily they were lenient on me, seeing it was my first time into Corenton. Any other time, I would have gotten eight lashes for the indiscretion.”
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Felli slept most of the trip with the occasional fishing with the ship's crew. When they arrived at the location he joined the others and scanned the shore.
Felli looked over his equipment, "We should be alright for common weapons. Hmm... I won't try to hide it but I hope my grappling hook passes inspection. If it doesn't, it should still be easy to get another. Best not to try hiding anything unless it is truly important and hard to replace this early in the mission."
Captain Cliffbottom stands vigilantly on the top deck as the ship makes its way into Corentyn’s Harbor. Off to the starboard side of the ship, the harbor’s dock stretches a great distance towards the breakwater, which allows ships of all sizes to unload a verity cargo and goods. Patiently waiting, as the Sea Sylph approaches, stands a 3’ tall Halfling dressed in a loose fitting swordsman’s shirt and pants. He holds a long scroll like ledger in one hand and a lantern in the other. Standing next to the Halfling are four buccaneer dressed men who look like they haven’t seen a shower in days. The four men each hold a thick rope ready to toss to the Sea Sylph’s crew once the vessel gets close enough.
Further in the distance, a moderate commotion has broken out next to what looks like a slave market of some sort. While many of the city’s guards stand by and disallow anyone to enter or leave the market, a hand full of heavily armed men, in what could only be described as infernal looking armor, head into the mayhem.
Soon the ship makes its final approach to the dock, where a number of harbor-men begin pushing on the side of the ship with long poles in an attempt to guide the vessel, while others toss heavy looking rope onto the ships deck. Without hesitation, the Halfling and his four escorts climb onto the Sea Sylph and approach the captain.
“Well met! I am Tamrin Credence,” the Halfling states with a labored smile. “I am one of the harbor master’s customs enforcement agents and these four men are my deputies. If you could be so kind as to allow me access to your ships manifest and logs, I can promptly dispense with the city’s mandatory inspection and be on my way.”
The Halfling quickly glances over at your group before following the captain over to a stack of ledgers.
"Let’s see here,” the Halfling states as he begins visually perusing the log. After making a preliminary run through the ledger, he order’s thee of his men to begin inspecting the ship’s cargo hold.
After giving directive to his men, the Halfling looks up from the ledger. ” So, it seems you have more than just cargo today captain. Where, if I may ask, are your friends from?”
The captain glances cautiously over at the group and then responds, “They are from Absalom”
The Halfling nods and then makes his way over to the group. He then approaches each group member individually and begins taking an inventory of their weapons, gear, and provisions. During this process he begins questioning each group member. “Well met! What is your business in Corentyn? I hope you don’t mind me taking an inventory of your things, but it is necessary. How long do you intend to stay?” Once the inspection is finished Tamrin hands each of you an invoice, which lists specific items that are not allowed within the city.
Masterwork Heavy Mace.
No contraband found.
Earth Breaker
Greatsword
Cold Iron Scimitar
No contraband found.
No contraband found.
The Halfling seems a little uncomfortable working with the Nagaji, but completes his task quickly and then turns to the group as a whole. “I also need to let you know that casting any arcane spells within five miles of the Esoterium, greater than a cantrip, carries the penalty of either having your spell book burned or your hands broken, unless you register with the Esoterium. The same holds true with divine spells. If you wish, I can provide a temporary license for 50 gp pr. License that will allow the use of such spells and grant membership to the Esoterium. This is fully optional of course. And lastly, your cargo won’t be able to be unloaded till tomorrow. We are currently dealing with a local problem that won’t likely be resolved until then. I apologize for the inconvenience, but this is necessary for everyone's safety.”
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Sense Motive (DC 18)
Tata bristles a bit at first at the halfling's questions, but complies with the instructions. "You say there is a local problem. What might that be exactly?"
After the inspection and inventory is completed, he glances at the halfling with purpose. "I'm curious, how does one get the job of customs enforcement agent? You seem a bit small to enforce anything, let alone something as important as this port. Your father must be an important man or your mother must have slept with an important man, if my guess is right." Tata then smiles deeply at Tamrin and pauses just a moment too long. "I joke, little man. Our journey has been long and the thought of more waiting is almost too much to bear."
Spreading his hands wide and shrugging, he says "Is there not some way we can depart the boat now?"
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Fundir is completely oblivious to the intentions of the searchers, and as the man inspects him he does his best not to bristle and argue. As the halfling begins speaking to him, he responds (With a bit extra hiss once he notices the inspectors wariness) "We were invited here, sssssir. I do mind, but it isssss the way it issssss... Assssss far as how long we will be here, that dependsssss on what we find at our sssssite."
When told of his mace being declared as contraband, Fundir responds "What sssshall we do with our armsssss sssssso that we may comply with your lawsssss?? And how ssssshall we defend ourssssselvesssss?"
"You say there is a local problem. What might that be exactly?"
"From my understanding, a troublesome Ulfen of fine stock has managed to escape from the open slave trade. We are searching for the man as we speak. I'm sure it wont take long to find him, as the city is thick with guards, Hellknights, and informants."
"I'm curious, how does one get the job of customs enforcement agent? You seem a bit small to enforce anything, let alone something as important as this port. Your father must be an important man or your mother must have slept with an important man, if my guess is right." Tata then smiles deeply at Tamrin and pauses just a moment too long. "I joke, little man. Our journey has been long and the thought of more waiting is almost too much to bear."
Spreading his hands wide and shrugging, he says "Is there not some way we can depart the boat now?"
As Tata finishes his comment, the one deputy that stayed above deck begins to loosen a lash that is wound tight and tied to his belt. As the lash unravels and extends to the ship's deck, the deputy begins to look at the captain with foul intent.
Tamrin quickly glances over at his deputy and barks an order. ”Put that away! We don’t have time for that right now! Besides, I’m not entirely sure if the snake-man’s comment was meant to be an Absalom-insult, or a Chelish-compliment.” The Halfling shrugs. ”Either way, it isn’t to fare off base.”
Turning back to Tata, Tamrin continues. “Once we have concluded our business with the contraband items, your group is free to disembark and explore our wonderful city. Corentyn has a lot to offer, and I am sure you will find the city is well policed by the overwhelming presence of the city's guard.”
I personally would like to visit a few of your taverns for some pleasant drinking."[/b]
The captain appears heavily relieved that the inspector chose not to impart the lash for Tata’s comment. “If you would like, I have a couple spots of drinking interest that I visited the last time I was here. I would be more than happy to share them with you.”
"We were invited here, sssssir. I do mind, but it isssss the way it issssss... Assssss far as how long we will be here, that dependsssss on what we find at our sssssite."
The Halfling shudders a little as the second Nagaji begins to answer his questions. “Invited? Who invited you and what site are you referring to?”
When told of his mace being declared as contraband, Fundir responds "What sssshall we do with our armsssss sssssso that we may comply with your lawsssss?? And how ssssshall we defend ourssssselvesssss?"
Tamrin scratches his chin a moment while he considers the options. “Well, (A) You are welcome to leave the contraband items on your vessel and retrieve them when you leave the city. (B) We could commander the items and hold them for you, but that will impart a 10% to value fee to retrieve them. (C) You could refuse to part with items and stay on this fine vessel till it leaves port, or (D) Refuse to comply, attempt to disembark with the contraband, and enjoy our fine accommodation at the local jail."
”As far as your safety is concerned. If the large presence of our city guard isn’t enough to keep you safe then there is always the Order of the Rack.” Tamrin points out a couple well-armed men, in infernal looking armor, who happen to be standing around and observing the commerce that is taking place on the dock.
“Ultimately, if that isn’t enough, you could always bring your enemies to the Wicked Fork in the West Drenches, where I’ve heard the food can kill someone even if the proprietor’s endless banter fails.”
At some point during the conversation, you catch Tamrin eyeballing the holy symbol around Serge's neck. Shortly after, the Halfling pulls out a small book and begins thumbing through its pages. Soon he stops on a specific page. “Hmm...Now that’s interesting, he says as he raises an eyebrow and then looks over at Serge. “Are you from Absalom or Magnimar?”
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"You heard the man," Serge says, removing the greatsword and earthbreaker from their sheathing on his back, "If these weapons are not permitted in Corentyn, I will leave them right here on the Sylph." He hands them to the captain, but with some hesitation as he realizes he's giving up almost everything he could use to defend his friends.
Unarmed in quite possibly the most dangerous of places...
At Felli and the captain's mention of a drinking establishment, Serge's eyes widen. "If we're going to visit a bar, count me in... Perhaps after we settle our business. We are here on behalf of the Society, so we should probably be making for the Museum with haste."
Serge considers Tamrin's question, then answers him, "We come from Absalom, although I heed from Magnimar before that. Why do you ask, friend?"
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Felli closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed before he tensed his muscles and readied to leap to action if the Halfling and his thugs prepare to attack. His right hand twitches as he prepared to draw his blade.
"My friends are not very good at remembering things and some are still under the effect of the medicine they took for seasickness. The Captain here invited us before the trip they just forgot. The sites we are seeing are site seeing the this city's sites. We have been in Absalom to pick up some supplies but we were in Magnimar too."
“I concur. Your items should be safe here for as long as need. Just leave them either in your room or hide them somewhere in the cargo hold. If you have anything extra valuable that you need to leave, I am willing to keep it in my office for safe keeping.”
The Halfling seems very interested in Serge’s comment about the society and the fact that he mentioned something about a specific site. Right as the customs agent begins to dig deeper into the subject, Felli pips in with a well-placed Bluff. Torn between the two men’s account about the purpose of the visit, the Halfling pauses and considers the situation.
“Sea sick drugs, invitation from the captain, Magnimar, Absalom, the society, the museum, and a specific site. I might need some of that sea sick medication myself.”
The Halfling begins looking between Serge and Felli while rubbing his chin.
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“Sea sick drugs, invitation from the captain, Magnimar, Absalom, the society, the museum, and a specific site. I might need some of that sea sick medication myself.”
Tata slaps Felli on the back with a loud, distracting clap. "My friend here is right, good sir. We're quite the travelers. And as for the medicine, why I myself just started felling better as we docked the boat. Could certainly be the cause of any minor confusions. 'Twas more potent than most of us expected."
Soon after making your way down the docks, you pass closer to the ruckus that is taking place in the Open Slave Market. Many of the Market’s patrons have erupted into a small riot. The riot has been quarantined into a small area by the city’s guards, which outline the spectacle in a semicircle around the disturbance. Although most of the riot has been quaffed by the five Hellknights that are making their way through the event, there is still a few defiant patrons braking windows and looting nearby shops. Throughout the area, bodies riddle the street as testimony to the seriousness of the Hellknight’s resolve to put an end to the chaos.
The evening presses forward as you make your way through Corentyn’s streets. Many of the local homes are in disarray and show signs of heavy decay, yet most of the buildings seem occupied. The warm light of hearths within many of the buildings can be seen through broken window panes, while silhouettes of people moving throughout the buildings leaves little doubt that the decaying structures are occupied.
As you travel further east, the sighting of local guards becomes more and more frequent. Soon you come across a building that matches the description of the Museum.
Broad marble steps, barely dulled with age and showing only the tiniest of cracks lead to the solid, reinforced double doors of Corentyn’s Museum of History. The building stands in stark contrast to the surrounding structures, most of which are small, cramped, and crumbling. Two city guards stand at the intersection nearby, watching the tradesfolk, fishermen, vintners, and others who make High Quarter their home.
After entering the historic building you notice that the heavily polished maple plank floors have been heavily scarred by years of passage. The faint aroma of linseed hangs in the air, mingled with the familiar scent of musty, leather-bound tomes. Aside from one of the adjacent wings, which has an middle-aged man in it, the building seems somewhat vacant of people.
While looking up from a rather large stack of books, the middle-aged man removes a set of spectacles and begins to closely monitor the group. “Can I help you?” He asks, while getting up from the desk and making his way across the room to a nearby window. The man seems somewhat nerves as he quickly peers out the window, and then back again.
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Serge breathes in the city's air. It's dense with so many people cramped into one area, but it wasn't something he wasn't used to having spent so much time in Magnimar. The riots taking place in Corentyn unsettle him, and the sight of so many Hellknights doubly so. He meets any stare cast his way with an equally stern glare right back.
"I haven't a clue why you felt the need to deceive them, but it seems whatever you said worked," he says to Felli and Tata, the judgmental tone in his voice quite clear.
After entering the museum, Serge sizes up the man, then greets him with a smile. "Good day. We're here on behalf of the Society. We're looking for Zefiro to help us out. Would that be you?"
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"Just feel like we need to be cautious, we are in potentially hostile territory and we don't know what political or underground groups might be opposed to our mission. So the less people know the better. Plus the Halfling seemed to focus on certain words said that raised the hair on the back of my neck. Clear sign my instincts were screaming warning. It might just be my paranoid nature but it has gotten me out of trouble many times."
Felli looked at all the old books and whistled. "Nice collections of books. I know a few people that would love to read them."
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The chirping of the songbird grew less and less as the group move further. The bird was hiding underneath Mia's hair, the view around such a waste of lives.
----At the museum----
"Wow.....i've seen hoarders of books, but this librry is the biggest i've ever seen.
Pardon me, but do you have {Flora of the Inner sea, Volume II}, by chance?"
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"This place is a mess as far as the eye can see - what the hell is going on here?" - the half orc grunts - "Riots, broken down homesteads - this looks on the brink of some sort of revolution"
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Ederen nods in agreement with the others - "I could get lost in here for a couple hours, that's for sure" - he starts squinting, and looking at the stacked books from afar.
"Good day. We're here on behalf of the Society. We're looking for Zefiro to help us out. Would that be you?"
“I am Zefiro Balinger,” the man says as he glances once more out the window and then makes his way to a shelf that contains several books. After collecting a couple of the tomes from the shelf, he moves back over to his desk and sets the books down. “Pathfinders you say. I would highly recommend that you not share that openly in Corentyn. It might bring a lot of unwanted attention. What brings you to this wonderful city?” The man’s sarcastic tone leaves little doubt about his dislike of the city.
"Pardon me, but do you have {Flora of the Inner sea, Volume II}, by chance?"
“I can’t say that I have seen that book. Most the books that we have here date back quite a ways. Is it possibly a newer addition?”
"What can an old history buff do for the society?"
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Zefiro Balinger:
“I can’t say that I have seen that book. Most the books that we have here date back quite a ways. Is it possibly a newer addition?”
"That's too bad....since the 1st volume was published some ten to twenty years ago, and the updated Volume II was published two years ago, and was said to be an interesting read, that i have yet to get my hands on."
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That explains the halflings reaction to learning that we're Pathfinders...
As Felli asks the important questions, Serge mutters to himself, "We'll need to keep our affiliation with the Society a secret... Yet we were told we were allowed travel here." He sighs, pats his belt looking for his waterskin, the realizes he had emptied it out and sighs more loudly.
How very wretched is Cheliax? ... Ragathiel gaze upon these lands.
After making a quick inspection of the room, Felli feels that the area is free of unwanted listeners.
"Well met Balinger. We were directed to speak to you about our mission here, for any possible information that isn't widely known. To get to the point, we were sent to investigate Emberhold."
“Emberhold, that’s interesting. So the society has an interest in the history of House Davion and its role in the 30 year Chelish civil war. I do indeed have a modest amount of knowledge about that time. In fact, I even know where Emberhold can be found.” After taking a moment to consider his last statement, Zefiro moves back over to the window and takes a long look outside. When he turns back to the group, the expression on his face has changed from a concerned expression, to a panicked expression.
“I knew this was going to happen! Your presence has compromised my situation! Those guards out there where perfectly fine with my indulgence with the library. They were even relaxed enough to allow themselves to be distracted by the local activity of the area. NOW, they have gone! I am assuming they went to report YOUR presence. This is going to disrupt the delicate balance I have built and will likely compromise my position here. This may even put my family at risk of being disappeared! How could you be so careless!