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The Pathfinders spend a few days running various errands for the gathered Venture-Captains and other important Pathfinders. You are able to spend some time getting to know Absolam and its surrounding area. Coming back to your bunks one morning after breaking your fast, you find the others in the group packing their adventuring bags. Wondering what is going on you are quickly told to get your things together.
You are to meet Kreighton Shaine, the master of scrolls. Finally something important!
Aside from some briefings during training, few Pathfinders deal with the Society’s Master of Scrolls. In the muddy stables, Kreighton’s scholarly robes drag through the muck, and his soft shoes are clearly soaked through, though he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I’ve been working on an extensive study of religious relics, trying to ascertain whether items gain a certain aura of divinity that cannot be detected through normal means. I’ve been collecting these artifacts through a series of well-known dealers in the God’s Market. We’ve never had any trouble before, but recently several of our couriers have been waylaid by a particularly elusive bandit.” Kreighton pauses briefly as his mud-soaked robe snags on a nail and he nearly falls over, but a stable boy catches his arm and steadies him.
“As they were headed through the Ascendant Court,” he continues, “a group of thugs ambushed our couriers. The first time I thought it was a coincidence—a random mugging. After the second time, however, Grandmaster Torch had some harsh words with me. He suspects someone has targeted our couriers specifically. The Drandle boy suggested I have you investigate the disappearances.” There is a long, uncomfortable pause and for a minute it seems the elf has completely forgotten he was discussing something.
Finally, he glances up with a sort of stunned look on his face. “Oh yes, here, this list will help you. The Grandmaster has helpfully provided it as a starting point."
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A young man swaggers into the room, a battered musket slung over one shoulder, and wearing a grin that would be consider sexual harassment by proper society. His hair is tousled, his cheeks covered in a couple of days of stubble, his clothes rumpled, and yet it is obvious that he thinks he is extremely pleased with his appearance.
"Zephri Kreel, pleasure, Venture Captain Drenge just sent me over, something about making me someone else's problem," he winks, "so we've got to fill an elusive bandit full of holes have we? Knew I was going to like this Pathfinding lark."
Strutting forward he peers at the note, "Well looks like we should pay Friar Horace a visit first right? "When in doubt always prioritize the brewer," my father probably would have said - if he had not been so busy dancing a hangman's jig.."
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From the corner of the room, the tiefling approaches his companions - "Well met Mutar, Stullun, Zephri and Fijit - I am Helgoron - pleased to meet you all friends" - he takes another step forward to look at the note, then turns back to the others and Shaine, adding - "This Jarid character, was it concluded to be pushing stolen goods by accident..?" - he lets the idea linger momentarily, then finishes - "Or is under custody?"
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Stullun and Helgoron know of the shard of Iomedae. According to legend it is a shard from her lance used in a battle against a demon when she was mortal. V-C Saine confirms that this relic has been recovered and the item is now with Greycloaks and is being held as evidence. Its authenticity hasn't been confirmed.
The others have spent enough time in Absolam to know that the God's Market is a bazaar filled with various venders hawking all sorts of religious goods. All of the major and most of the minor gods are represented. You can purchase texts, holy water, and items of worship freely and easily here.
The Market is policed by a group of guards called the Greycloaks. They are sworn to no god above any other and all are staunch atheist. They are easily idenitified by their plain grey cloaks.
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Erastil's Alehouse is easy to find. It is a thriving brewery and alehouse run by the monks of Erastil. Currently though, it is a challenge to enter. There is a mob of followers who hope to see the famous cask and have a drink of the ale within.
A monk stands at the entrance blocking the path of some of the more aggressive followers who are trying to squeeze into the alehouse.
As you get closer, the monk looks at you with a frustrated expression on his face, I'm sorry my friends, but the Alehouse is a mite full at the moment.
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Noticing the large throng of people and the appropriately large bouncer, Meridyth decides on a more diplomatic approach, as it appears there will be a small wait to get in anyhow. "What, if I may ask, is going on? It appears a contest of some sort? At any rate, we have some small business that needs to be taken care of here. May we enter? As you can see, I take up very little room." the gnome asks, smiling up at the monk.
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Zephri grins over Meridyth's shoulder, "Ah, come now my friend, help us out, we aren't here for the ale we are here to see Friar Horace. We don't even have to go in, if you can have someone fetch the Friar for us that will do just as well. We are Pathfinders and it is a matter of the greatest urgency."
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The crowd has been drawn to the Alehouse to see the keg the Cayaden himself drank out of while he was mortal. The keg and its potential beneficial properties has drawn the curiosity of a substantial crowd.
Looking around, there is an alley way but not another way in the Alehouse that isn't already crowded and full of patrons.
The monk looks sympathetic and tells you to meet the head brewer out in the alley.
A few minutes later a thin, precise man with a hawkish nose comes out to meet you. He introduces himself as Friar Horace. His description of events is precise and to the point. Aye, I saw what happened ; they attacked that Pathfinder right over there the friar says as he makes a curt gesture to a patch of dirt in the alley behind the alehouse. They were wearing gray cloaks, but I don’t think they were guards. Your friend was holding her own, but then someone shot her from that rooftop. He makes another precise gesture pointing to a building across the alley. I called out for Brothers Ellis and Freel and grabbed my staff, but by the time I got outside, it was all over. We were able to help your friend back into the alehouse and Brother Freel went to fetch the Graycloaks.
I didn’t see what happened to the relic your friend was carrying—they must have grabbed it while I was getting my staff. When Brother Freel tried to follow the thugs, he found their cloaks discarded at the delivery entrance to the bakery. After that, things open up to the market proper and it’s almost impossible to follow anyone out there.
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Meridyth looks around at the alley, trying to help Zephri spot any spent ammunition, or other items the ambushers may have left behind. .
"Did you get a feel for which way they came from, or which direction they fled in?"
"Why didn't you think they were guards? Aside from them attacking and robbing a courier aside, was there any non-guard like hints or tells?"
"Is there anything else you could tell us that might be of help in locating the killers?"
"Can we have the cloaks? Maybe someone left something in a pocket.
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The Friar tells you that the cloaks were taken by the "real" Grey Cloaks as evidence. They just didn't have the look of the real thing you see. The Grey Cloaks are professional. These men, boys really, didn't have a professional look to them.
You see that it is fairly easy to climb to the roof of the building adjacent to the Alehouse.
The party does take a look around the Bakery. Nearly at once Stullun and Zephri see a piece of paper that has slipped between two bricks. Written on the paper - Barnel - noon, Pitview Pub
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Stullun knows that Pitview Pub is a moderately popular tavern in the Ascendent's Court.
Stullun is able to climb up the roof. It certainly does provide a great view of the back of the Alehouse. It is clearly a good spot for a would-be sniper to seek its prey.
Looking around ,the Magus spots an unused arrow. The arrow seems to be coated in some type of substance, poison most likely.