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"Ah, 'scuse me, 'scuse me" shouts the young boy, wearing a tabard bearing the Glyph of the Open Road. He appears out of the crowd wherever it is you happen to be. "Yeah, you. Sorry, I've got orders for you - report to the Grand Lodge immediately - it's urgent. Oh, and they said to dress for warm weather."
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Jazmine and Giggles make quite a sight strolling through the market. The elf has come a long way in adapting to cities, but still is no more comfortable than her velociraptor friend in populated areas. They are perusing items and refilling supplies from her last venture when the boy approaches her. He nearly loses an arm as he tugs on her sleeve, but the Elf just manages to catch her reptilian friend. "You should be careful who you accost.." she admonishes, before the boys message sets in. "Well, Giggles, it seems that we are needed once more. I will be along presently. Let the Venture Captain know I am on my way." Jazmine and Giggles quickly depart the market and make for their inn, settle their affairs and grab their belongings, then head for the Grand Lodge.
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Kit makes her way to the meeting area, her tail swishing in enjoyment of the day, having performed 'The Setting Sail of the Swollen Sun' to an enthusiastic crowd.
I like these Absalomians. An easy crowd.
I wonder if we're going to the Mwangi Expanse? she murmers to herself.
Kit is a Kitsune with a Mongoose familiar. The two work comedy routines in tandem, with the diminutive critter often playing the foil or the comedic villain. At the moment she is in her fox form. Their entrance into the briefing room is more of a romp involving melodramatic sword-play that would only serve to get one killed in a real fight.
Gathering together in a small room at the Grand Lodge,, the group is not kept waiting long. The door opens and a figure bustles in - not, as one might expect, one of Absalom's resident Venture Captains but a more senior figure - Aram Zey, the Society's grumpy and sarcastic Master of Spells.
He does a quick visual sweep of the room, rolling his eyes slightly at the velociraptor digging holes in the antique carpet with its claws.
"All right" he says finally. "We haven't got all day. Gather round. Join hands if it makes you feel better. Come on - time is short."
He shoos the group into a tight circle around him, and then produces a scroll and begins to chant. Those who know such things might recognize it as a teleportation spell, just in time for the silver mist to rise and for you to fall into infinity...
With a 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 Aram Zey’s hands 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 sites 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.”
Zey points north through the treeline, to 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 to 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 scrollcase 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 scrollcase 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."
He mops his brow. “Ask your questions now. I return to Absalom the moment I believe you capable of getting to Bloodcove.”
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Kit is quick to take the money, scrollcase, and the key.
"Don't worry sir. No hero here, and quite capable of avoiding attention" with that she briefly shapeshifts into her human forma and back again.
"What or who is Angazhan? I'm guessing some evil god, but I'm not all that knowledgeable about those things."
He shrugs. "Demon Lord of Apes, Strength, Mixing Your Drinks and Not Visiting Your Mother When You Are In Town. Or something like that. Let's just say you won't be sitting down for a game of cribbage with Ruthazek."
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Jazmine calms Giggles down as she reacts to the sudden change in loction. Presently, she calms enough to begin exploring, and heads off into the trees, returning quickly with a stick and looking about the group hopefully. Jazmine, at this time listening to the briefing, quietly scolds the little dinosaur. "Not now! I know you miss Zimti, but we haven't seen him in ages.."
Turning back to the conversation at hand, Jazmine wipes her brow, and asks "Sir; we were not told this would involve hiding. You have something to help with disguising us?? and what about this missing alchemist? How are we to know him, or to ask about him without raising questions?"
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"You may want to enter as a mercenary for hire, or perhaps as an entertainment act. That's a thought! With a little practice... Oh, but we don't have time. Too bad. I could have come up with some nice plays featuring that toothy friend of yours."
Kane, Kit's mongoose familiar, is not nearly as excited as Kit by the prospect and seems to always manage to be on the opposite side of Kit from the 'toothy friend".
Turning back to the conversation at hand, Jazmine wipes her brow, and asks "Sir; we were not told this would involve hiding. You have something to help with disguising us?? and what about this missing alchemist? How are we to know him, or to ask about him without raising questions?"
"Unless you are known personally in Bloodcove, you won't have to disguise yourselves, but you'll have to come up with a reason why the group of you are in town, that doesn't involve the Society. And of course, don't go flashing around any wayfinders, or Glyphs of the Open Road and such."
"As for this one," - he tickles Giggles under the chin - "we're in the Mwangi - she'll probably raise fewer eyebrows here than just about anywhere else."
“As I said, Senzer serves us as an alchemist and a valuable source of information and potions for our operations in this region. I believe his shop lies somewhere along the Widow’s Walk. Share as little as possible with him; everyone in the town has some stinking agenda. But he already knows of our local operations and the location of the dig site.”
He swats a mosquito. "Anything else?"
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No questions. Master Zey, - Kyra replies.
She then turns towards fellow pathfinders
"We NEED to come up cover story. The obvious variant is pretending merchants..but in my opinion it isn't a good idea, because merchants are always a target of "additinal fees" and they attract too much attention. What do you think of being mere bounty hunters?"
Knowledge Local:
The local elite elect a Grand Admiral, who rules Bloodcove for life. The Admiral enforces a strict hands-off economic policy and very little else.
Fiercely competitive trading houses wield the genuine power behind Bloodcove politics, with the Aspis Consortium currently dominating the political and economic scene. House Cartahegn fiercely opposes its rivals in the Consortium, and makes an acceptable fair-weather friend in this area.
The trading houses brutally crush any criminal organizations that interfere with their business. As a result, most of Bloodcove’s criminal activity revolves around exports (such as the drug trade) or else focuses on the poorer citizens. The local guard only investigates crimes if well paid for the service, leaving most of the city subject to vigilante law.
"If that will be all, Pathfinders, I'll leave you to your mission." Zey pulls another scroll out of his belt, and unrolls it. "Don't mess this up - some good people will die if you do." He mouths a few arcane syllables, and is gone.
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Thus far keeping to the background, standing unnaturally still, a slim elf, dressed in light clothing and a cloak, steps forward. Strapped to his waist is a curved bladed sword with an ornate hilt. The fingers of his left hand unconsciously caress the pommel gently and lovingly.
His voice is quiet, almost shy, "I know a little of the Aspis Consortium's operations in this area, but no more than has already been said".
He nods his head in greeting, before continuing, "Apologies, I missed the introductions, My mind was on other matters. I am Morbihan Flèche, an elf from the frozen lands in the north. Please call me Han", he smiles, " it is easier on the tongue." The name may be recognisable to some of you. When not needed by the Society, Han fights in the Absalom arena as a gladiator.
He shrugs, and steps backwards. His movements are graceful, like a dancer. "Sadly, I have no skill other than with sword and spell in combat. However, I can support whatever you wish to do with some small magics." He touches his fingertips to his hood, and his body shimmers and shrinks, becoming that of a small elderly halfling woman, dressed in a leather apron, a short blade for gutting fish strapped to her waist.
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Han knows nothing more about Bloodcove than has aready been revealed.
After brief discussion, it seems that, without extensive disguise ability or magic, the group has several options
1) Just slip into Bloodcove and try to keep a low profile
2) Pretend to be a group of mercenaries or adventurers - you'll need a cover story
3) Pretend to be merchants and their bodyguards - but again you'll need a cover story, and gold to flash around.
4) Pretend to be traitor Pathfinders - the Aspis Consortium welcomes renegade Pathfinders - but maybe this will attract too much attention from the start.
What do you plan to do?
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Borax clears his throat as he begins to speak. The human wears impeccably clean clothes, sports a close shaven head covered with mutton chops and spectacles, carries a haversack and leans on a cane, the type which usually contains a sword in it.
Borax looks at Kitoro and snorts, "Go in as individuals? Insane. Our story is this: We are hear seeking counsel with House Cartaghen, we have a business proposal for them. We are individuals working together for mutual benefit. All completely true in a manner of speaking. I shalll do the talking."
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Ignoring the overly clean human, Han looks around the group, then addresses the fox lady.
"There you have it. We are a travelling circus. Strongman, beast tamer, entertainer, mystic, acrobat, and of course clown."
With that the elf touches his cap again, changing his appearance to a slim gnome dressed in tight fighting bright red & green clothes, a large throwing blade stuck through his belt. He bunches his legs, then launches himself into a double back flip.......
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..." I shalll do the talking."
He better be more polite than he was just to me.
"You would make a great villain, Borax! You can just talk the way you just did to us now. You will have the audience hating you in seconds!"Kit makes a gesture and Kane, the Mongoose, starts shaking his little hand at Kit while Kit melodramatically hides her face in shame.
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Borax smiles a wry smile,
"I shall take that as a compliment. Your suggesting, however, was disappointedly selfish as you considered only your own skin and using your talents to your own advantage rather than helping the group. I may talk like a villain, but at least I understand that Society requires teamwork."
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Han steps forward, his form shimmers and he appears as himself, but with a dangerous look in his eye. His sword is still sheathed by his side.
"Apologise to the lady or return to Absalom. I will not take another step in this endeavour beside you while you carry on like a spoiled child. Your manners betray you for what you are."
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Jazmine and Giggles watch their new companions, making sure that words are the only thing thrown back and forth. She takes a few steps off to the side, and begins to play fetch with Giggles. I much prefer the forest.. she thinks to herself. Just you and I, Giggles, and no worries about fights or personalities. Life is so much easier just providing for and taking care of ourselves..
Turning back to the group, she calls out "I really don't want to get involved here, but despite the way he said it, perhaps Borax is onto something with his plan. However, talking like that to an ally is just as likely to hand us to the Aspis as walking into town without a plan.."
Bloodcove is a large, sprawling settlement spanning both sides of a widening river mouth, and several large islands in between. A network of ramshackle bridges, causeways and piers links them together. The lack of central authority, and the town's lack of interest in it, is obvious - buildings lean precariously, or slump half-collapsed against each other. Raw sewage runs through the streets. You have never seen a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.
The southern shore, where you are approaching, appears to be the wharf district - this is where the merchant traders come to dock and unload, and the shoreline is crammed with large warehouses and stock pens.
The group gets a few curious looks and hard stares as they enter into the town proper, but no-one seems interested in challenging such a large group.
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You have never seen a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.
Borax proceeds to purchase a blue book and reads that for the next hour.
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"Why am i not surprised that this city belongs to aspis...I am to get some usefulll info..and help people at least mentally"
Kyra also tries to find some information helping and listening to beggars and other poor citizens. Doing so she acts as common cleric and of course she doesn't show her wayfinder which lies deeply in the backpack.
There are very few apothecaries in town, especially ones that cater to the poor - the closes they have are the pesh and shiver dealers who offer them a few hours of oblivion. However, Kyra's ministrations reveal the necessary information - Senzer has a shop in midtown, where he produces tonics and herbal cures. However, he hasn't been seen much recently - his son has been ill.
A small bell rings as the door opens into Rulkep Tonics. Colourful bottles and bags of powder decorate the shelves, while curious twisted roots and larger bottles lie securely beneath a glass countertop. Several uninterested customers mill about, eyeing newcomers suspiciously before pointedly examining the shelves once again. A gaunt, half-elven man steps out from a doorway behind the counter, his dusky skin gleaming slightly from perspiration. He smiles crookedly. "Welcome to Rulken Tonics, friends. What can I do for you today?"
The shopkeeper eyes the other customers uneasily for a moment before his expression shifts back to a nervous smile.