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Venture-Captain Drandle Drenge, a stout and hardy Taldan with thin, graying hair and a thick, bushy mustache, unfurls a map on his butcher-block table and places a meaty finger on the parchment. “The abandoned district of Beldrin’s Bluff was once the gem of Absalom’s Precipice District—now it is but a weathered crag of broken rock at the edge of the roiling sea. When the great quake hit ten years ago, entire blocks of the Bluff sheared from the mainland. Cliffside tearooms and exclusive estates fell into the waves and carried hundreds of nobles to a watery grave. An elite academy, called the Tri-Towers Yard, remained on the mainland, but sank wholesale into the earth. Children unfortunate enough to survive the quake lay pinned under debris as sewer water slowly rose from the ground and drowned them. Nearly every student perished.
“Today, crumbled stone walls and weed-filled lots sprawl where gentlemen’s clubs once filled with pipe smoke and hobnobbing lords. The Drownyard—er, that’s what the illmannered call the school these days—lies behind a fence of black iron pikes, constructed by the families of the dead to discourage morbid trespassers.
“Even respected archaeological groups have been denied official access. Our own Society has itched to explore the site ever since the quake—that is, ever since we discovered that the school fell through the roof of a lost necropolis. Unfortunately, the emotional trauma attached to the school has remained fresh. But finally, after ten years of mourning, the politically-connected families of dead students have sanctioned our delve request.”
With a toothy smile and a clap, Drenge says, “I’m pleased to announce that I’ve selected your team for the delve. I want you to find a way into the necropolis, document your findings with professional detail, and recover artifacts of historical significance. The Society is interested in one artifact in particular—a two-finger ring topped with a ruby salamander.”
Drandle Drenge pulls an iron key from his waistcoat. “I leave you with the key to the Drownyard gate. Remember, the Drownyard is a deeply personal site for many powerful Inner Sea families. You will tread upon the graves of their children. Be sure to give the site the respect it deserves. Lastly, Lady Miranda Dacilane has a letter for you. I was to give it to whomever was going to explore the School. I suspect it is some request. Best to keep in the good graces of the locals, but the Society goals come first should you need to choose.”
Hero of the Society,It has come to my attention that you and your cohorts were chosen by the noble Pathfinders to enter and explore what became of the Tri-Towers Yard. As my daughter, Junia, was lost there during the great quake, it seems only proper that you attend the banquet I am holding tomorrow in memory of her. You and your friends should wear your finest and arrive at the Dacilane Estate in the Ivy District at sundown. As you are probably not accustomed to the traditions of nobles, not attending this dinner would be a serious slight upon the memory of my daughter.
Sincerely,
Lady Miranda Dacilane
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Cork looks at the map spread out on the table with interest. At the mention of the children drowning he grows somber. "Drowning is bad. One of my mates got tangled in a net and was pulled under the sea once. By the time we hauled him up he was dead. It's awful what happened to these kids. We will be respectful."
After looking over the letter he looks to the rest of the group. "Seems like the best thing to do is to go to this dinner."
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From the corner of the room, a halfling in a black wide-brimmed hat listens silently. On either side of him rests a wolf, and inside the folds of his overcoat another small beast wriggles for freedom. When the briefing is finished, he steps forward to address his new companions.
"My name is Dorn. This here is Kina," he motions to the lighter Wolf on his left, "And this is Koroh." He gives the darker Wolf at his right a pat on the head. Both of the Wolves are eyeing the party with keener eyes than most animals, and are looking around the room at everyone. Whenever someone speaks, they pay close attention. "I hope we can be of sufficient assistance to you-" His voice is cut off as a puppy wriggles its way up from his collar, poking its head out and panting happily. Dorn gives a resigned sigh and shrugs. "And this is Pibb, the final member of our little family." At Cork's suggestion Dorn gives a nod. "Aye, we don't want to make a poor showing before we even begin."
With that he shrinks back, and those who take their eyes off the halfling quickly lose their track of him.
When no one's eyes were on him, Dorn, rolled away under the guise of shadows and is now observing the party from a perch.
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Shabah nods at the eminently reasonable request to avoid unnecessarily desecrating the bodies of the unfortunate dead.
It occasionally causes me great concern that people are always mentioning this as a special favor.
Shabah turns crisply from the map to face the rest of the party, and introduces themself, Good day to you all. I am Shabah Al'Quna of the Susianam. Though I am in service to His Imperial and Royal Majesty the Padishah Emperor Kalish XXII, I take my obligations to the Society equally seriously. I do not know any of you, but I will take great harm to see that you return safely if need be. I hope that I can expect the same of you.
With that said, Shabah turns their attention back to Drandle, Captain Dreng, do you anticipate any secondary motive to this invitation? Has the Lady Dacilane had any previous interactions with the Society?
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From the doorway a man walks in, his coat still dirty from some recent journey. A crossbow is slung across his shoulder while he walks, and his eyes scan each person carefully when he enters. He glares at the captain, then the other party members...
...then bursts into a hearty laugh, clapping a heavy hand to the back of Baied. "Ahahaha! Did I make you worry there?" He flops himself into a nearby chair, propping one foot up on the table as he starts to polish the elaborate wooden handle of his crossbow. "So we're going to a dinner eh? I'll be sure to bring my best manners." His grin betrays a clear lack of concern for whatever conceptions people may get from his behavior.
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The party arrives at the address on the invitation to find a sprawling estate surrounded by a tall, wrought-iron fence and overly decorated in statuary, fountains, and a carefully landscaped garden. The house is filled with gilded furniture, painted ceilings, gold-spun wallpaper, and valuable Chelish rugs that, if sold, could easily feed a family in the Puddles District for a year.
Despite her obvious wealth, the Lady Dacilane’s grief is very real, and she does her best during the dinner (a 10-course affair) to keep her composure as she receives proper introductions. Toward the end of the dinner, she finally broaches the subject of her daughter and the Tri- Towers Yard.
“My daughter Junia was one of so many children lost. Hundreds of them pinned under the rubble in that sinkhole. The black water rising—the kids screaming.” She quiets for a moment. “None of us could get to them. I am aware of your planned foray in to the old school, and I would ask that you keep an eye out for any sign, or remains of my daughter.”
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Lady Dacilane motions to a portrait on the wall. It is an enormous painting of a young girl daughter—a rigid, sharp-featured young girl with long black hair—that looms over the entire banquet hall.
"This my daughter Junia. It was done only a month before...the flood. She did tell that some of the lesser children, not my daughter mind you, would skip class to tell ghost stories by candlelight in an abandoned corridor beneath the school."
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Cork enjoys the banquet and savors each of the fine courses of the meal. Despite the pleasant food and atmosphere he knows detects the somber undertone from Lady Dacilane. Eventually she begins to talk about her daughter.
"A corridor beneath the school?" he asks. "Was this a part of the school? Or something that was there before the school was built?"
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Throughout the dinner Dorn seems notably uncomfortable, doing little more than poking at his food and grumbling under his breath. Once the forced pleasantries are pushed to the side and the subject of their business comes up, he pays closer attention. "I ain't trying to be a bearer of bad news now, but we was told there be a necropolis under there, I'm not sure you want..." His voice trails off and he begins polishing the unloaded crossbow he (perhaps rudely) took with himself to the dinner. "We just don't know what's down there is all I'm saying. Sometimes the memory of someone while they're alive is worth more than hearing about their corpse... His voice trails off into frustrated mumbles. He occasionally gives the various, clearly unnecessary flaunts of wealth looks of minor disgust.
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We'll do what we can, Lady Dacilane, but you realise we can't promise anything. I understand that being able to bury your loved daughter would bring some closure to your searing pain. If we find some identifiable remains, we will either bring them back, or if these aren't easily transportable, I'll perform a ceremony, free of charge of course, for her soul.
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Lady Dacilane starts to look annoyed at Cork's interrogation, but Baied steps in in time to smooth over the faux pas. Addressing Baied directly. "Thank you for your offer and sensitivity to this issue. I only know of what my daughter said, I never had the desire to explore like others." It is easy enough to tell that was a slight at boorish adventurers like Cork.
"[b]However, it seems that you are 'on the case' as they like to say. And I wish you good fortunes and that you may find word of my daughter."
As the dinner ends, she does see you to the door and you are able to do any other perpetration before you head to the old school.
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You are able to change and make any last minute purchases on your way to the downed yard.
Beldrin’s Bluff is a rotting ghost town at the edge of a hungry sea. Throughout the derelict landscape, seagulls perched on splintered timbers reflect your passage in their glassy black eyes. Overhead, dark clouds move ashore with the promise of a storm.
A fence of black iron pikes surrounds a block-wide yard. Dead tree branches reach out from the fence like the arms of emaciated prisoners desperate to escape. A man is on the inside, cutting the trees down. Some of the dismembered branches remain, stuck in place by knotty elbows swollen around the iron. He looks up and watches you approach.
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Carrying herself with dignity and grace, Baied respectfully adress the gardener, while producing the iron key to open the gates of the place.
We are here to respectfully explore the place called the Drownyard,and to bring peace to the memories of the fallen, if we can. As far as you know, is the place secure, my good man? Should we pay special attention to some particular or dangerous features?
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The man comes up to great you. "Hello, Deris Marlinchen. My daughter Cassiel attends this school. You should see how she’s grown. Those beautiful long braids! I am tending to the grounds while I wait for her class to finish.”
His thinning hair is matted and sweaty. His clothes were once fashionalb, but are not old, worn, and somewhat neglected. But he seems jovial enough as you enter the grounds.
"Are you here to enroll your child? I can show you around"
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Not waiting for a reply "Yes, come with me. I will take you to my daughter's class with Mrs. Heracks!"
Deris heads u to a roofless hall near by black ponds and gray, shattered buildings. Powerful fragrances of abundant wild flowers in bloom fill the air. You realize these are the original funerary flowers from 10 years ago, unnaturally preserved by the magic of the necropolis and growing into a small flower garden.
Looking into the room, Ten students dressed in checkered uniforms sit stiffly at wooden desks, staring straight ahead. No one moves. At the front of the class, a conservatively dressed woman leans against the wall.
You can tell these are just spirits.
The tableau seemed static until Deris starts to interact with it. The teacher silently gestures, the students nod and silently whisper to one another. None of the spirits here look like Lady Dacilane's Daughter.
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Cork realizes that Deris is acting as if the people were there. In fact he goes up to the teacher and begins a conversation with her. After studying the scene for a bit you can tell that everything is responding Deris's focus. He seems to be unconsciously causing the apperation to react.
Egg finds that none of the Spirits look like the daughter.
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You are able to quickly surmise that is some type of benign haunt. It is some type of manifestation of undead energy, but not tied to a specific creature. Observing the grounds as a whole, there is a faint background of "evil" lingering here. This room just seems to be a bit more concentrated and manifests the scene you see.
Deris continues to "chat" with the teacher and after a few moments, opens one of the drawers on the ruined desk and pulls out a worn key. And returns to the party. "Mrs. Heracks asked me to show you to the shed so you can deal the leak. I don't know why they sent so many plumbers"
Deris heads out the door and continues without seeing if you are behind him