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After Varian's acid dart, a hard sneeze would probably kill the bard. Yet still he stands, stalwart against the unjust tyranny of the Pathfinder Society.
Those that ran away like scared little halflings in the face of a deathknight regroup as the party searches the corpse and for information about why.
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Battle over, Mercutio flies down the stairs to the main floor. Reaching Taklinn, "Nice moves, brother. You really had that guy running scared. Oh, wait. No. That was you! Hahha!"
Mercutio jumps up onto the stage, "You know I heard once that all the world's a stage. Hmmm. That would be a pretty small world."
Mercutio gives the place a looky look.
Rifling through the bard's pockets and pouches, you uncover a potion of cure moderate wounds, a scroll of dimension door, a scroll of invisibility, and a scroll of silence, and some other nice gear. (+1 shortbow, +1 chain shirt, cloak of resistance +1.)
As you search his corpse, you notice that the potion you collected has similar etchings to the potions you harvested from the goblin corpses at the start of this journey.
You read through the papers on the stage. The papers the PCs saw on the stage are supply lists and a list of code names and dates. There is also a list of cities on one sheet: Absalom, Sothis, Kaer Maga, Oppara, Whitethrone, and Almas.
In the papers, you also discover what you presume is the name of your foe: Wymund Pratt
Searching further, you also find a small chest hidden at the rear of the stage with 2,800 gold pieces.
——
You have time later to mull over what you've learned, which isn't much. The Shadow Lodge is real, this seems certain, and it's operating in Kaer Maga. However, you don't know its size or the depth of its influence, nor do you know anything worthwhile about any of its members.
Mercutio finds the chest of gold. "By Desna... We could all live as princes in the local taverns and brothels. I knew being a Pathfinder would have its perks. What do you all want to do with this fella'? We could take him to the local authorities."
Varian is unsuccessful at stabilizing the bard, but the villain does manage (eventually) to stabilize on his own. He can't answer questions while unconscious, however.
As you continue to sort through the notes, you find a written order to someone named "Vadoma" to gather her goblins and hunt you down. Apparently, someone higher up in the Shadow Lodge wants you dead. The letter is signed by Wymund Pratt, whomever he really is.
Varian recalls what he knows about Pratt ... human, a bard ... he puts two and two together, and realizes your captive is probably Pratt.
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"Someone's after us? GOOD! I like company that likes a toss or two. Let's find them out and show them how good we are at dancing! ... Oh... it was this guy? Hmmm."
Mercutio walks over to the unconscious bard and gives him a soft (almost playful) kick in the shoulder.
"Guess you got all tired out, eh? When you wake, if your dance card isn't full yet, I'll be your Huckleberry."
Popping up in a cheerful voice to his comrades, "Okay! Where to next!? We draggin' this guy in to the law? Back to the lodge? I'm hungry, and I got all this money to spend."
The Shadow Lodge allied with goblin tribes from outside the Kaer Maga, converted or killed the Pathfinders who came to Kaer Maga, and tried to keep themselves out of the city’s politics.
On that latter point, they failed miserably. When the Shadow Lodge learned that a friend of the Society named Horis Collgardie was writing letters to Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng in Absalom asking about Pathfinders in the City of Strangers, the Shadow Lodge sent a bard named Wymund Pratt , to deal with Collgardie and stop the Society from sending Pathfinders to Kaer Maga to investigate. Pratt arrived too late, and thinking he got to Collgardie before the cloth merchant sent his letters to Absalom, he murdered the old man and let his body to rot in the living room of his own house. That was the Shadow Lodge’s first mistake.
Collgardie was a well-regarded merchant by both the powerful golem-creating Ardoc family and the mysterious Commerce League, two of the larger political entities in the city. Together, they decided to get to the bottom of Collgardie’s murder and, for a time, thought you might actually be the cloth merchant’s killers (as you had only recently arrived). When that was discovered to be an error, Dakar— the secretive leader of the Commerce League (and who you discovered was a naga)—decided to help you and the Pathfinder Society along, for a price.
And now that Dakar has helped the Pathfinders, he’s calling that favor in...
It feels like it's been weeks. You've stayed in Kaer Maga awaiting orders from the Society, and none have come.
Even the official Society record of your accomplishments was unreasonably delayed.
You've begun to despair that the Society will ever actually respond to your mission report.
Musing about the tardiness of the Society , you wander a Downmarket street, when suddenly the street is empty of residents, the choking mass of humanity and monsters suddenly remembering they had something better to do. Standing about you in a loose circle are six burly men carrying cudgels and a seventh man, skinny and bedecked in robes and jewels, his right hand in a pouch on his belt. All of the men stare intently at you.
“Dakar says you owe him a favor,” says the skinny man in robes. “You’ll need to come with us.”
The man who spoke refuses to give his name and the other six are either incapable of speech or are unwilling to speak.
As before, you're informed you will need to have your heads covered with bags and be driven around in circles before they can meet with Dakar. This is all too familiar.
Your heads are bagged as promised (each bag has a permanent silence spell cast on it), and they are stuffed inside a small, dusty wagon and driven in bumpy, painful circles around the city for at least an hour before being dragged from the wagon, marched through small streets or large hallways, and then stopped. When the bags are removed you find yourselves in a nice club or private residence with carpeted foors, potted plants, slaves waving fans, and a giant backlit screen along one wall. (The same place you were in last time you met with Dakar.)
A shape, decidedly vague in outline, can be seen behind the screen and a voice speaks.
This time, the guards are slightly more prominent, and they make sure Taerel is kept away from the screen. In fact, all of you are several paces further back than last time.
“You owe me a favor, little Pathfinders, and it’s time to pay up.”
"You've met the Ardocs, yes? They're the family that makes golems. We and they have come to ... an arrangement." Dakar goes on to inform that the two largest political entities in the city, Dakar’s Commerce League and the golem-making Ardoc family, have decided the reign of the Shadow Lodge within the city walls is at an end.
Both the Ardocs and Dakar see this problem easily solved by the Pathfinder Society. As your favor to him, you are to track down the Shadow Lodge, find its headquarters, exterminate its members, and rid the city forever of the meddlesome organization.
On reflection, it's probably what the Society would ask you to do if they bothered to communicate with you.
"Unfortunately, I am as in the dark about the Shadow Lodge as you are. But I think enterprising little Pathfinders such as yourselves should have no problem tracking them down. You might try Downmarket or the Meatgate—lots of eyes there may have seen something.”
When the meeting is overyou are again bagged and driven about as the process occurs in reverse. After an hour, you’re dropped back at the same place from where they were taken—except you now have a favor to fulfill.
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Doodle's only question to Dakar was about the Shadow Lodge itself. "If the members aren't too evil, could convincing them of the errors of their way be good enough? Do we have to kill all of them? Maybe we could make them our friends somehow. If not, then I know we have to do what we have to do."
Diplomacy
Diplomacy
Diplomacy
Diplomacy
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Once Dakar's men have finished with him, Varian breathes a sigh of relief.
"A thoroughly unpleasant man, with a somewhat over-enthusiastic liking for dramatic theatre. Come on - let's see what we can find out..."
Varian then does his best to wrack his brain, trying to recall whom might know what the party is looking for...
Doodle's only question to Dakar was about the Shadow Lodge itself. "If the members aren't too evil, could convincing them of the errors of their way be good enough? Do we have to kill all of them? Maybe we could make them our friends somehow. If not, then I know we have to do what we have to do."
The shadow behind the screen enunciates his words, speaking slowly. "Little one, the Shadow Lodge consorted with goblin tribes against the city, breached the security of the Halflight Path, murdered our citizens, and if that were not enough, they tried to kill you. Repeatedly. The continued threats to the city must cease. Permanently. Do what you will to ensure that happens."
———
hours pass as you search for information. It is a difficult task, as most know little of the Society, and none know of the Shadow Lodge. Most flee at your questioning. Talkative merchants become tight lipped, and the weaker willed flee from Renedar.
You again encounter Sard Coalbreath, a gruff and perpetually drunk dwarf. ("Urp.") He lies in a gutter, watching the flow of people pass by. "I heard sumfin', maybe it be o' use. But my memory ain't real good when my mug is empty."
"I 'eard that Shadow Lodge group were in a big hullabaloo down by de theatre. Picked a fight with the wrong group, so I 'eard." He smiles, showing rotting teeth, and holds out his hand for an additional reward.
"Wait. Weren't we just at the theatre? Is he just reporting about us?!"
After a brief lunch You spend another hours searching for clues in a city that seems void of them.
In an up-scale portion of the Promenade you again encounter "Miss Feathers", a tall burly man with a deep voice and a glittering feather boa wrapped around his neck. He's waiting for his next customer and is willing to chat as long as you don't scare away his potential clients.
After an overlong interview ("she" won't stop talking), you come away with several particularly sordid stories about run-ins with the locals and their proclivities, but no information that's actually useful.
You continue your search for another hours.
A fig merchant mentions a caravan guard that mentioned seeing the Shadow Lodge. After some questions (and the promise to buy a basket of figs) you are directed to a local guard pub, The Mended Drum, where you find her.
Roold is a human female. She looks tough as nails, and is short (for a human), muscular and stout, with short-cropped hair and polished leather armor. She's several drinks into her "dinner", and swears she saw a Shadow Lodge Pathfinder wandering around Meatgate the day before.
With a voice remarkable unslurred given the number of mugs in front her, she says, "I know he was Shadow Lodge because he stank of losing. And smugness. He was claiming to be a Pathfinder, but he wasn't you lot."
A fourth attempt at finding information yields another memorable character that is still all-too-forgettable in the chronicle of your adventure. (A human girl cutpurse named Fasch, if you must know.) She offers you directions all over Kaer Maga, but little useful intelligence.
With "Meatgate" being your only lead, you find a suitable place for the evening and head in that direction come morning.
The crowd of shoppers, merchants and passersby obstruct your movement as everyone tries to get out of the way of the impending fight.
A woman in gray robes over armor raises her quarterstaff in challenge, knowing she's been spotted by Varian. Her companions separate themselves from the crowd and move in to attack. "You've challenged the wrong people, foolish Pathfinders!"
The armored half-orc draws her scimitar, and moves around a fallen cart.