It is mid-morning when the messenger approaches you. "Venture-Captain Dreng requests your presence - please convene in meeting room 12." Even those of you who are still Initiates undergoing final training have heard of Drandle Dreng before. Stories of his midnight summons, and the convoluted adventures which spring from them, have attained near-mythic status in the Society. The idea that he has summoned you to a meeting during regular working hours strikes you as... odd. Perhaps it is due to your junior status within the organization.
As you head through the gates of the Grand Lodge, you cannot help but be impressed by the Society's home base. The imposing tower of Skyreach dominates the view, its upper levels supposedly where the masked Decemvirate charts the organization's course. Training areas, classrooms, and residences dot the rest of the campus, but your eye is drawn towards a lush forest growing against the western wall. Within those centuries-old trees stands the Wall of Names - the place where fallen Pathfinders are memorialized. It is perhaps telling that the wall was built on such a scale, and even after four hundred years, there is still plenty of blank space on the wall for incautious Pathfinders.
Arriving at Skyreach, you are ushered in to a well-appointed meeting room to wait for the Venture-Captain. Around you are five other individuals of varying descriptions.
|
"Thank you, dear," comes a woman's voice. Handing the page a silver piece as she steps into the briefing room, a figure pulls off her rucksack and sets it, a quiver of red-fletched arrows, and a darkwood longbow in the corner of the dimly-lit room.
She stands 5' 6" tall, with tight muscles under her simple scarlet tunic. While her form is human-shaped, her skin is the color of brass, with a metallic sheen that announces an otherworldly connection. Her hair is shockingly red, long and unkemp, with a single braid hanging down behind her left ear. She has elected to avoid any skirts today, choosing instead a pair of durable cotton pants black with a stripe of bright-red piping down the outer seams. Her wristbands and boots are made of soft black leather, with neither tooling nor decoration.
"Either I'm early, or else the Society is tryin' to keep costs down." she mutters to herself, in a casual dialect of common popular among people from central-east Avistan: northern Andoran, Galt, Razmiran, and the River Kingdoms. Moving to a side table, she reaches out to take two candes' wicks between her thumbs and middle fingers. A couple seconds later, she releases them, and light -- as well as the honey scent of melting beeswax -- floods the room.
She remains standing, ignoring the table and chairs in the center of the room. When the next agent enters the room, she is looking over the framed documents and sketches on the walls, perhaps trying to occupy her mind.
|
A tall, thin, Garundi man, with a shaved head that makes his age almost impossible to determine, the faintest ghost of creasing around his eyes suggesting that he is older than he appears, walks into the room, leaning casually on a well-worn ebony quarterstaff.
He is dressed simply, in a plain white pleated kilt, overlain with a robe crafted from leopard skin, his feet shod in purely functional leather sandals. However, this only serves to accentuate his eye-catching broad gorget, crafted from carnelian, jet, lapis lazuli, jasper, and citrine beads, the center-piece of which is a mithral holy symbol depicting a bird of prey super-imposed on a sun.
Whilst not classically handsome, he has significant presence, suggesting that he is a man used to giving... 'suggestions', and having them readily obeyed.
Upon seeing the only other member of the party to have arrived thus far, he draws himself up, and gives a cursory bow.
"Greetings. I am Amenhotep of Wati, newly arrived from Sothis. To whom am I speaking?"
|
|
A thin Vudran man ambles into the meeting room and looks around. There is an almost canine like quality to his face, and something seems not quite right with his features. He is dressed in a worn plain travelers outfit with a small turban on his head. There are several rings and studs in his ears and nose, and he wears a pistol on his hip.
Glancing around the room, he spots the other Pathfinders, and says:
Greetings! Well met fellow Pathfinders! I am Colt Bastola, wanderer extraordinaire and, recently, most humble catechumen of the monkey god Ragdya. Care to speculate on the task our Venture Captain will set before us today? Maybe send us off to the Mwangi Expanse to steal the crown from a hippo king? Or perhaps he will send us to Geb to collect the tears of a mummy? Or maybe the simple matter of delivering a message to a fairy on the moon? Anyone else have ideas?
|
|
"Hey there, Amenhotep. Dressed to impress, I see. Can't blame you; I'd guess we're all looking to make a good first impression here." The woman returns his bow, and then offers her right wrist in a more informal gesture. "Luiselle Goodeye, but my team-mates call me Lu."
"Apologies, but I can't say as I recognize your sigil there."
Lu turns to the door when Colt starts speaking. "Nice to meet you, monkey man. I'm Lu, and ..." she's about to introduce Amenhotep as well, and thinks better of it. Mister Osirion's got his own style about him, that's for sure. Let's not cramp it by treatin' him like a kid. ... and we're just gettin' started. Whatever we're up to, I hope we'll have more success than the folks who were supposed to bring in water and snacks here." She gestures toward the side tables.
Three of us, and I'm the only one not serving a god, Lu's thoughts turn to the gods worshipped along the Sellen, and then to the attention she's already received. She barely suppresses a shudder. That's okay; gods an' me, we get along better at a respectable distance.
|
|
Well aren't we the a motley group. A dark haired woman says nonchalantly while leaning against the doorway. Laughing to herself she strolls into the room throws herself into a chair, kicking her feet up onto the desk. Name's Shechera. Don't think I've seen any of you around the Grand Lodge or out in the city.Pulling out and apple she starts to munch away. Gesturing over to Colt she grins, Funny you should mention our new assignment. Last week, in the dead of night I was summoned by none other than Dreng. He sent us out to some museum, some cursed museum at that! Place was filled with this weird mist that turned people into MONKEYS! She continues laughing and eating her apple tossing her messy, short chopped hair out of her eyes. Dressed in well made, and tailored leather armor she has two short swords strapped to her back.
The door opens again, and a tall dhampir with piercing grey eyes enters the room. You recognize him as one of the Pathfinders who work within the Grand Lodge.
"Please excuse the intrusion," he begins in a thick Galtan accent, then pauses uncertainly. "I see that not everyone has arrived," he continues, a slight frown crossing his face. "I will check to see what other available agents there are. Excuse me." He nods once and then leaves.
|
|
Amenhotep nods.
"Truthfully, I am not surprised - there are relatively few today, even in my native land, who follow the Old Gods of our people, so your confusion is understandable. To answer your question, it is the symbol of the Great God Ra, Chief of His pantheon, First of many, the Lord of the noon-day sun."
|
|
Lu smiles a little to herself. Of course Mr. "Whom am I addressing" worships the head god of his pantheon. Lesser gods simply wouldn't do. Then she shakes her head. Play nice, Lu. This is probably one of the guys you'll need to protect.
With that resolved, she takes a seat at the table and turns to Shechera. "Good to meet. Name's Lu. Were you able to bottle any of that mist? I bet it'd be handy if we run into trolls or a dragon. Ooooh: monkey dragons."
To Amenhotep, she asks, "So what happened to Ra and his friends? New gods came 'round and kicked 'em out?"
|
Pan walks in with a practiced grace and stride. He has obviously been raised in the lap of luxury, and by the looks of it, he was raised in Tian Xia. His robes are long and don't hide a level of opulence that is indicative of nobility. Despite his clothing, his skin tone, hair, and eyes are all out of place in the attire. Light brown hair is well kept, his eyes a shade lighter than brown, almost an amber hue, but his skin indicates him to be Taldan.
"Lovely, Pathfinders and Pathfinders soon to be," he gives a nod to each as he finds a seat to slide into. "I am Pangu Blackbourne, of New Oppara. Though, by all means, call me Pan. I must say that I don't tend to wish to get my hands dirty, so I will assist as much as I can, but I do not like to get my hands dirty." He says as he leans forward and places his chin on the cane that he carries
|
|
Shechera shakes her head at Lu Sorry, honestly I couldn't get away from the stuff fast enough! Not to sure I be that keen on fighting a Monkey Dragon anyway. She chuckles. Then nodding to the new arrival, Good to met you Pan. And no worries, my boy, I'll be getting my hands dirty enough for the bolth of us!
|
|
An impeccably well-maintained and shapely human female smiles at her new companions, her teeth perfectly straight and white. Beautiful beyond belief, she had been examining her nails as the group discussed the details of the mission.
"I'm not sure why they keep us waiting," she mutters. "Fashionably late, my mother always told me."
With resignation, she stands before the group, but is suddenly cheerful and diplomatic. She smiles at each of her new compatriots.
"What heroic deeds shall these my fellow Pathfinders accomplish? Shall we discover murderous villains, boldly rescue some poor wretch, bring justice and punish the perpetrator of a vile conspiracy, and finally return home with valor to receive the cheer and adulation of all?"
As she finishes speaking, she unfurls a banner of the Pathfinder Society she has been carrying, then curtsies with a dramatic flourish.
"I am Taliesin Staccato," she says, as if each should already know.
|
|
To Shechera:The ways of the monkey gods are chaotic and mysterious! Sometimes the monkey helps you; sometimes, you are the monkey. I myself have just started down the long road to true monkey-ness.
After watching Taliesin's flamboyant introduction, Colt jumps to his feet, clapping loudly.
Bravo. We know our story is in good hands, and the exploits of our brave band will be known far and wide. Again, bravo!
|
|
Amenhotep nods to Lu.
"The Old Gods Raised Up my people, teaching them civilization, and once they had established themselves, the Gods moved on - for Golarion is not the only world where their influence is felt. That said, whilst Their full attention is no longer here, they continue to offer Their blessings to those who invoke Them."
|
The door opens again, and Gerard reappears. "Excellent, you are all here," he smiles. "Again, I am Gereard Dessedeux, and I come with a message for you from Venture-Captain Dreng. He is unable to attend you at the Grand Lodge, and requests that you meet him at on the street across from the Grog Pit, a tavern in the Docks district. He requests that you come ready to work for the next several hours, and that you won't be leaving the city." He nods once, then turns and exits the room.
|
|
"Just lovely...The Docks...all sorts of ruffians there." Pan lets out a sigh and shakes his head, then slowly strokes his beard. "I wonder why a Venture-Captain would be doing in such an area," he says quietly as he strokes his beard slowly.
Rising, he looks at his companions and then to Gerard. "Might there be anything else you could tell us, sir, or shall we head on this endeavor now?"
|
|
Looking over to Taliesin, he smiles and draws forth a long, thin wand. "I am unsure, but I think that you might be able to use this and aid our group a bit? Typically those who are good with performances are good with this sort of thing, as well. I, unfortunately, can not reliable activate this thing...yet."
|
|
Ah! Come on Pan, the Docks are that bad a place. Its the best place in this city to find a good story and cheap drink. Sechera says, patting the tien man reassuringly on the shoulder. And if I had to guess what Dreg is doing down there.... Id say he's most likely stirring up some sort of trouble that we'll have sort out.
On the way to the docks Shechera takes a couple detours, I just want to swing by my friends shop to say hi. or Oh I know this great place just down the alley were you can get the best price on alchemist supplies. and I'll just be 1 minute, I need to see if the cloak I ordered is in yet. While making these stops Shechera stops and chats with the store owners and the other customers.
|
|
Pan huffs as they walk out of the meeting area.
"If we must, then we must. Perhaps we can find some new things to learn in this city...I find that despite the abundance of people, knowledge often slips through the cracks...I mean, during my own confirmation a cave filled with ideals of Aroden was found on this very isle, despite the fact that it has been heavily populated this entire time. It is a wonder how many times people have walked past that cave and not seen it...so there is likely a great bit more on this island that people have missed."
It is raining as you leave the Grand Lodge, and the downpours worsens as you head towards the Docks district. Lu easily finds the Grog Pit, arriving before the others. As she crosses the street to enter, one of Absalom's ubiquitous beggars approaches. Filthy and smelling slightly of overripe cabbage, the old man shuffles towards her. "Spare a coin, m'lady?" he asks, with a twinkle in his eye that belies the rest of his appearance.
HE then pulls back his filthy hair, and Lu sees that it is actually Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng.
"Let's just wait for the others, shall we?" he asks, his eyes looking over Lu's shoulder.
Amenhotep arrives immediately after Lu, followed by Taliesin and Pan, Colt, and finally Shechera. As each arrives, the "beggar" approaches you and asks for a coin, but quickly reveals himself as Venture-Captain Dreng. After the group has arrived, he motions you down the street a little farther from the entrance of the tavern.
“Sorry about my little joke,” Dreng says with a wink. “I always like to see who's paying attention when I see agents in the field. Now, why did I summon you fine folk here again…?” Dreng shakes his head from side to side, as though trying to knock water out of his ears, despite the constant downpour.
“Ah yes, the Wounded Wisp! I’m undercover now, and can’t stray far from the site I’m watching, but I need someone to retrieve a package for me from that fine establishment. It’s among Absalom’s most storied taverns, you see, and one that holds a special place of privilege in the Society’s lore as the place where the organization began. Well, I could drone on and on about it, but standing out in the rain is doing none of us any favors.”
As if anticipating agreement, the bedraggled venture-captain produces a small slip of folded paper from one of his many stitched pockets. Dreng quickly shows a glimpse of the page’s contents: a map detailing the location of the Wounded Wisp.
“The bartender is a woman by the name of Heryn Gale, a fine lady who came to own the Wisp after the passing of her father from—oh, bah, it’s really getting too cold for me to give a proper history lesson! If you could just go to the Wisp, and tell Heryn you’re there to pick up my parcel, it would be most appreciated. I’ll be around here for several more hours at least.”
|
|
Lu looks askance, first at Pan (Is he daft? Does he not see what's going on here?) and then at the Venture Captain. "Why, yes, Captain Dreng." she says, a little mechanically. "If, needing a parcel from another tavern, you think that the best course of action is to send a team of six armed and equipped field agents to fetch it, we would be happy to assist." She leans over Shechera's shoulder.
|
|
This has all the makin's of a scavenger hunt. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if another captain shows up at the Wisp, askin' us to run another errand and so on throughout the city. That's fine, pretty mild as hazing goes, but I could have wished they'd picked a more pleasant day."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Dreng regards Pan with barely-concealed amusement. "Well, well, I didn't realize we had one of the Decemvirate here!" he grins. "Well, sir," he bows. "As you know, during the testing process for Initiates, part of the goal is to teach them how to adapt to new information and think on their feet. One way to encourage that is to pull a switch-hitter - a mission that starts off one way, but ends up another." He leans closer, conspiratorially, though the glee in his eyes is evident. "Just don't tell them about it, or it'll spoil the learning!" He jabs Pan with his elbow, winks, and looks back at the rest of the group.
|
|
Once out of Dreng's earshot...
"I had heard rumours that he was something of an eccentric, but this confirms it... did he *really* have to be quite so authentic? That stench was abominable!"
He quickly heads in the direction of the Wisp, both to distance himself from Dreng, and to hopefully get inside out of the rain as quickly as possible.
|
|
"I think I recall something about the Wisp from my studies," Taliesin says. "The Wounded Wisp was a bar once frequented by the original members of the Pathfinder Society, before the Society was even formed. Inside the Wisp, acquaintances would share stories about their adventurous exploits with one another. Could prove interesting," she muses.
|
|
"Perhaps, Shechera. It would be hard to know the truth after all these years. But, you know, unless I'm thinkin' of the wrong place, I've seen a number of folks with Pathfinder badges going in and out of the place. I don't know whether it's where the Society started, but it's surely 'our bar' these days."
When the party gets within sight of the place, Lu pulls up short.
"Hang on a sec. Look at that image, hanging over the door. I was reading a couple of the early Chronicle volumes the Society keeps in the Open Library, and the front pages have the very same picture there, right under the dedication. Do you think it means somethin'? Do you think that this really is the place where the first Chronicles were talked over and put together?"
|
|
Seeing the skies open up as they leave the Grand Lodge, Colt pauses a moment and shifts into his natural form. He is a rather handsome kitsune, with dark gray fur and several small patches of white.
Sorry for the change. I just happen to be a bit more comfortable this way when it is cold and wet out.
Colt follows the rest of the group, first to the Grog Pit, and then on to the Wounded Wisp.
I'm not sure it really matters where the Society was founded. Let's just get in out of the rain and grab a drink. Adventuring is thirsty work, after all.
Built from dark, discolored wood, the exterior of the Wounded Wisp is the image of an iconic dive bar. Stained and barred windows obscure direct vision into the establishment, though ruddy yellow light bleeds from a window in the front hall. The only distinguishing feature on the Wisp’s exterior is a thick wooden sign hanging from above the bar’s entrance. A brass ring fitted onto the sign anchors a lantern (referred to by the staff as “the wisp”).
This long entrance hall heads north into the building itself. The walls are covered in numerous decorations and trophies left by successful Pathfinders who have donated minor paraphernalia to the bar.
The smell of smoke and spilled ale assails the senses in this wide-open area. Walls of dark-stained wood make up the sides of the Wounded Wisp, while well-used wooden tables are spread throughout the space. A raised area in the back of the establishment houses several additional tables and eating areas for groups seeking more than just a good drink. An austere bar supported by kegs instead of wooden panels commands the northern end of the room. A stained-glass cabinet stands behind the bar, its dark panes cracked in several spots, yet not so opaque as to conceal the several dozen types of hard liquor within.