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Under instructions from Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus, a gathering of several hundred junior Pathfinder agents is assembled in the main hall of the Grand Lodge. The reason for the gathering? Imperial Cheliax has appointed a new representative to the Society, and the envoy has a few words to share with those who care, or have been made to care by summons from the Master of Swords himself.
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A young man, or one that seems so, sits with a large grin. His appearance is very unsettling as half his face is covered in serpent-like scales but has an elven ear. The other part of his face has a long canine but appears completely human, even if his piercing right eye is completely black with a white pupil. However, what is the most awkward is his hair who at first glance seem to be dreadlocks but are long human-like fingers. He wears a mithral chain shirt and a sheathed rapier on his side.
The man bows his head and smiles at each one of you, making wide gestures, and you can tell easily he's really excited to be part of the adventure.
"WOOOOHOOOO! How are you guys and girls? Ready to be part of the tale?" he says, munching a sandwich despite the reason of the gathering.
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There is a slight, but palpably incongruous chill in the air around a tawny-skinned elf wearing a beautiful Elven sword and a flowing overcoat the color of tarnished silver. He holds in his hand at eye level what is unmistakably the intact skull of what was once a very young black dragon, and is staring intently into its sockets before the strange anthropoid calls attention to himself.
"Well, now that my deja vu's suddenly a bit better, perhaps so."
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A tall Chelaxian walks in. He wears a sword on his back, but you see several knives and a net hanging from his belt as well. He has sharp, noble features, but something tells you that he's used to dirty work.
He crosses his arms, mostly talking to himself. "Well, I didn't know there would be so many to honor old Cheliax. I assume She'll be here too. I wonder how many the Paracountess will bind to her."
He suddenly notices the elf and the man that seems to have two faces. He nods at them. "Happy day. Hail to old Cheliax?"
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Joining the gathering, a hooded figure in a black cloak steps out of the shadows. You can tell that he is humanoid, but bears the talons of a bird of prey instead of feet, and has several exotic blades on belts.
With a deep eastern bow, he addresses the group with a cackle.
"Caw...Waki...Waki Huro am I. Great honor to serve with you it is.
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A tall, wiry man wearing a distinctive hat, a dusty set of travelling clothes, and riding boots ambles into the chamber. A rapier and coiled whip hang from his belt while a musket sits in a sheath on his back.
His piercing blue eyes scan the room, then he tips his hat to the assembled party. "Name's Briscoe."
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As the Pathfinders finally find their seats, and you find your own in the front row, a tall, heavy-set woman wearing a black-lacquered breastplate and a sweeping ruby cloak rests a hand on the gold pommel of the longsword at her hip as she readies to address the Pathfinders assembled at the Grand Lodge. She nods once to Marcos Farabellus before beginning. "I am Ianareth Alazario, and I come to you with words spoken by Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune. Pathfinders, your exile is at an end. Cheliax welcomes you once again."
Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus vigorously leads a round of applause that echoes off the sturdy walls following the new declaration. Ianareth’s smile is as wide as her host’s, though it falters slightly when her gaze falls on her disgraced predecessor Zarta Dralneen, who you now notice has been sitting besides you the entire time, her lovely face studiously neutral, one eyebrow arched in a pointed statement to her successor to Imperial Cheliax.
Ianareth quickly sets aside her discomfort and continues: "With your help, I would mend the rifts between us and forge an enduring friendship. I have entrusted your Master of Swords with several promising leads found within our borders. To that I add only this: Pathfinders; the glory of Cheliax is placed in your care." Ianareth bows deeply to Marcos and then to the crowd before taking her leave to another round of applause, one that the Mistress of the Dark Archive joins in with an otherwise unenthusiastic clap of her own. Marcos Farabellus steps behind the lectern and announces, "I’ve gathered a handful of teams to lead these initial expeditions, and I’ve posted those outside with times to meet me in my office for more details. There’s rewarding work ahead, so don’t be late!"
With that the auditorium begins to empty, and walking briskly with infinite poise and a clenched jaw, Zarta Dralneen is one of the first to disappear through the assembly hall doors.
As you make your way through the doors to the crush of Pathfinder assembling around the lists posted by the Master of Swords. Upon one, you read: "The following Pathfinder agents:
-Briscoe "Preacher" Jones
-Waki Huro
-Aiden Richter
-Nectanebo the Vulture
-Esh Kethar
-Imonil Minkowski
Are to meet with me in my office immediately.
Marcos Farabellus,
Master of Swords.
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Aiden spots the Paracountess and he stares at her throughout the ceremony. He follows her with his eyes and she departs. What game are you playing at, Paracountess? And why do I think I'm being included? He shivers at the thought of her interest in him.
He follows the others to meet the Master of Blades. "What the devil is going on?"
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Minkowski bounds up to the door. "Last! My name on the door, last! Posh! Imonil Minkowski is the holder of great secrets, renowned across the world for his great deeds of splendor and secrecy! And they think me last! My, I must have a word with this Master of Swords, at once." He hurries off to the grand meeting. "Master of Swords, ha! I could take him.
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As you all congregate with your fellow agents before the Master of Sword's office, you can hear lady Dralneen's voice through the sturdy oak door. Opening it, you see her towering over a seated Farabellus, her back turned to you. "I don't think I need to remind you of the expression Marcos: "Beware the good intentions of a Chelish diplomat." Who controls whom behind closed doors in Cheliax is something you should be keeping forefront and center in your mind, and you should really be wondering who we are serving by heeding the call of Abrogail’s infernal masters."
The master of swords strokes his beard for a moment, buying time to phrase his reply. "Caution is warranted, but you shouldn’t let the past color your opinion of this opportunity, Zarta. This is our chance to freely operate within Cheliax again! The doors of Delvehaven may still be closed yes, but we can start to mend soured relations!" Marcos turns to you, in an effort to change the conversation dynamic. "I expect everyone who takes an assignment to conduct themselves as diplomats as well as explorers. We don’t need a public debacle to ruin our welcome. Not again."
Zarta straightens her back and glares imperiously down at her counterpart. "One day you will look between the sheets and see you’ve climbed into bed with a snake, Marcos. I sincerely hope none of your agents find themselves in desperate need of a retrieval team. Devils work quickly to strip hope from one’s senses." And without another word, she turns and strides out of the room.
The Master of Swords massages his forehead with one hand and motions to chairs with the other. "Lady Dralneen assumes that we take Cheliax entirely at its word. We don't. Ianareth Alazario provided me an incomplete history of a small keep in the Eismonts called Emberhold, once property of House Davian. The reason we don’t hear much of the Davians anymore is that they led the resistance against House Thrune during the Chelish civil war, and her infernal majestrix is not known for showing mercy." He pauses and opens a large drawer, from which he pulls a battered tin mug and a decanter of fine wine. Pouring himself a drink he continues: "I’m sending you to explore the site, learn what you can about what happened there, and bring back any information about the Davians."
Setting aside the decanter, he leans forward and lowers his voice before adding, "You’ll be traveling through Corentyn, and I’d like you to pay a visit to the Museum of History there first. The curator, Zefiro Balinger, is an acquaintance of the Society and may have details not available in the official records. Get Balinger’s help, then visit Emberhold." Marcos presents a small folded map. "You’ll leave Absalom aboard the Sea Sylph in two days—Society’s picking up the tab. It’s been years since we’ve had first-hand reports coming out of Cheliax, so be ready for anything.
Any questions?"
mandates of Asmodeus, or defy House Thrune. Those who revere chaotic deities in particular often find themselves under especially close scrutiny.
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"Preacher" listens intently, his eyes lingering on Zarta as she exits the room.
Once Marcos finishes, Briscoe considers what he knows...
"So, aside from being an Asmodeus lovin' country that frowns on other religions, 'specially the less law abiding one, aren't there some freedom fighters working in Cheliax?" He says aloud, more to himself than anyone in particular. "Like them Dellflowers?"
Once everyone has discussed what is known, Briscoe will attempt to pick up some information from his "network".
Disappointed with his information, as he feels its fairly common knowledge, he fill in details his companions might not be privy to.
In the mean time, he ponders purchasing any equipment for the trip and goes to check on his horse, Pistol.
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Waki nods as The Master of Swords finishes.
Care we must take. Honor thin seems on those dealing with devils.
He likewise considers what he knows (from top)
vs the fall of Delvehaven
vs the laws of Cheliax
Turning to Preacher...
Of Delvehaven, recall naught from my past. However, the Bellflower Network, a halfling group of freedom fighters is. Disliked by the Cheliax authorities they are. as he shares his info with the group.
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Aiden catches the Paracountess' eyes as she storms out. The look in her eyes keeps him from saying anything to his patron. Only when Farabellus finishes does Aiden provide some back history of the Paracountess' position with the Thrune government.
"The Paracountess has been bitten once by House Thrune, so we might heed her warning. False evidence led to her disappearance at the hands of Chelaxian agents. She's never received any acknowledgement of that, which is when she broke with them and began the Dark Archive. But even she has had no luck in getting artifacts out of Delhaven. Any Thrune-sanctioned Pathfinders that went in mysteriously seem to have had their artifacts go missing. That's what we're dealing with here. You don't cross House Thrune inside the borders or speak out against Asmodeus."
When the Preacher mentions the Bellflower network, Aiden sighs. "Right, those halfling-lovers. Listen, I'm not exactly held in high regard by them. I'm Aiden Richter. I'm from Cheliax myself and i ran afoul of them more than once." The man doesn't elaborate.
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"So, halfling- loving freedom fighters- ha! And Asmodeus- how exciting, and horribly terrifying! Minkowski shakes in his boots- they do realize Minkowski is not wearing boots? Beware the Thrush- rune?- Thrushrune family. And then to explore the museum of history- what fun!- to discover the demise of Emberhold! Is that all?"
He turns and looks at Aiden. "Minkowski wonders what happened to him? he says, before turning back to the Master of Swords, as if oblivious to his audible remark.
To the group, he says "Greetings, Minkowski's friends- surely you have heard tales of fashionable and honourable Minkowski? Of course they have. Remember, the cat once stuck in a tree? That was Minkowski who saved the day! And the one who helped the old woman across Town hall- why, also the great and handsome Minkowski! And now, Minkowski is hear to help with this adventure! Say no more- it is an honour- of course they think it is an honour.
To the Master of Swords, he slowly raises his hand. "Minkowski does have one question," he asks slowly. "Why was dashing and daring Minkowski's name last?"
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"Oh hey Minkowski!" says the strange man with a large grin.
Esh tries to listen the instructions but goes easily distracted.
"Such a thrilling adventure! I'm so glad I'm part of it!" he shouts.
*********
After the meeting, he goes to ask around some questions and finds some useful pieces of information.
"Did you know that only Thrune-sanctioned Pathfinders were allowed to operate in the region prior to Delvehaven’s closure? Reports from Delvehaven were heavily redacted, contained little information of value, and worse, artifacts began to disappear. Tensions between Cheliax and legitimate Pathfinders were ruinous for years even before Thrune closed Delvehaven; even with Zarta’s influence, the Society managed only a handful of expeditions in Cheliax over the past decade." he says with passion to his fellow party members.
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"Ah, yes: Law and Order! Those are Cheliax's bywords! And like all regimes that prioritize Order, of course, it's a colossus on feet of cheese. I've heard of House Davian - one of the larger holes in aforementioned cheese. They used to rule much of Cheliax’s west coast. Near the end of the civil war, Duchess Lannavia Davian challenged Thrune at the Battle of a Hundred Kings at Corentyn, which gave even that city of fortresses a VERY good run for its money; perhaps they even took it for a time, who knows? I don't, and I know more than likely most Chelaxians even know - why? Because Thrune retaliated in a manner that might well have made Asmodeus Himself proud. They not only ground the Davians into the dirt, but Cheliax’s official history since that time has been repeatedly 'revised' to downplay their role during the civil war, whittling them smaller and smaller to the point that many no longer even remember the Davian name, much less that the great house almost defeated Thrune."
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The master of swords shrugs at Briscoe's words. "Maybe. Probably. But they aren't your concern." He pauses, clearly trying to find a way to answer the young pathfinder Minkowski without chewing him out. "Because it just happened that way. If you want me to make sure to list you on my lists first, you're going to have to prove you are worth the effort son."
With one last look at the assembled Pathfinders he adds: "Make preparations as you see fit. You are dismissed Pathfinders."
The morning of your departure, as you stand aboard the Sea Sylph looking upon it's vast stores of digging equipment, rope and sieves, a pathfinder agent in training steps up. "Message for you from the Master of Swords." And without another word he leaves.
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The last remaining agent scheduled to board the vessel, Cassian Redwold, does so shortly after you receive the message, and you immediately set sail for Cheliax and Corentyn.
The last fiery golden rays of daylight silhouette the towering monument known as Aroden’s Arch, which reaches out from Corentyn’s southern wall to divide the Arcadian Ocean and the Inner Sea. Corentyn’s numerous fortifications rise behind mighty gray and brown limestone walls. Masts of ships both in port and at sea rise in the hundreds, like a legion pointing their spears toward the heavens.
Aboard the ship, a frenzy of activity has taken hold of the crew, with the captain ordering the goods he transports be secured and displayed in a neat, orderly fashion. "Chelish law will have the harbormaster's deputies aboard, questioning my crew and searching the ship for contraband. Declare everything you have, or by the Savored Sting's t&*!, I'll be passing along the twenty lashes I'll get for your dishonesty."
∙ Holy symbols and holy texts dedicated to chaotic gods — visitors are free to worship whomever so long as this doesn’t challenge Thrune’s or Asmodeus’s authority, but a recent court decision has identified such holy symbols as a medium for proselytization.
∙ Scrolls and potions of spells with the chaotic descriptor
∙ Poisons whose combined cost exceeds 150 gp
∙ Drugs whose combined cost exceeds 50 gp
∙ Large weapons—an uncharacteristic string of attacks has resulted in a crackdown on citizen weaponry that most assume will end in the next month or two. Until this resolution ends, only light weapons are permitted in the city limits. It is possible to declare and leave larger weapons on the ship at no cost and retrieve them at a later time.
Paperwork can be filed (for free) to authorize the temporary import of anything violating these edicts, but only for use beyond the walls of Corentyn or any other major Chelish township or city.
Looking about, it occurs to you all that there may be places to hide anything you might consider "contraband" either on the ship or yourselves. But is it worth the cost?
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"I understand that they're also cracking down on poisons and drugs beyond the most modest of quantity and quality...buuut if one is willing to do a bit of paperwork, they'll give you a temporary exemption for any of it provided you don't use it within the walls of any Chelaxian population center. And it's free!"
Nectanebo looks at his sword with a pained expression.
"Even so, I am not terribly comfortable signing a contract with Cheliax...especially if it sounds like such a good deal."
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Minkowski huffs. "Well, if you give the item to Minkowski, I can hide it- with an illusion. Manifest something over top of it, then voila! Minkowski and Minkowski's friends are in the clear. For example-" Minkowski takes his nodachi, folds some cloth over top of it, and sticks it under his shirt. "Minkowski can now appear to be fat!" He looks eagerly. "Minkowski can do the same for you, as well!"
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Minkowski's spell take effect and he balloons up to almost grotesque proportions only seen on some Varisian bloatmages. The captain grits his teeth but adds: "If that's how you're going to play it, I'd make sure you add beads of sweat and add some of that blubber to your face. Make those jowls sag. If you get caught though, you'll wish you had some of that blubber to cushion the boot I'll..."
He finds himself interrupted by a cry from the crow's nest: "Inspection team ahoy captain! Two boats portside!" Indeed, two rowboats containing easily a half-dozen chelish marines are rowing their way up to the ship, and begin boarding within minutes of having docked with the Sea Sylph. Immediately, they begin inspecting the ship and it's contents from top to bottom, methodically.
Among the soldiers climbing aboard is an impeccably dressed halfling, looking at you severely as approaches the captain, who presents his papers without a word. The halfling reads through the paperwork studiously before rolling it up and turning to give you all a second severe look. "The paperwork here lists the number of passengers but does not say anything more. Who are you and what is your purpose here?"
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"I see" comments the halfling laconically motioning towards a marine who steps up and violently grabs your sword and it's scabbard away from you, a smile on his face as if taunting you to do something about it.
Displeasure flashes across the small inspector's face before returning to a studied neutral expression. "Please apply the peacebond before I log it in private Zachelli" he comments, pulling a book and a portable ink-and-quill from a pocket in his greatcoat. "I'm sure you understand, especially with the rabble causing scenes like this on an almost daily basis, we cannot have common folk brandishing weapons" he comments, motioning behind him as he begins writing down a full description of your weapon.
In the background, you now notice that a riot of some sort has broken out along part of the docks. The town guard, far from putting down the insurrection, are busy keeping a tight cordon around the area, as a large group of hellknights in full battledress marches somberly towards the scene.
"Wonderful. Now, any other weapons or further restricted items?" he asks nonchalantly, as Zachelli and a couple others begin looking at you all eagerly.
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Esh steps up and bows towards the halfling, ignoring the chelish marines. "Oh what a pleeeeasurrrre to meet you, sir! Well... I think we got no more weapons on board or restricted items."
A halfling in charge? In Cheliax? How weird...
Distracted by the mob's behavior on the dock, he shifts the subject of the conversation. "What is going on here? What are these... lawless behavior?"
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Aiden offers his darkwood bowstave to the halfling as well. "Please have some care with these, Captain. I would hate to lodge a complaint with our new Chelish ambassador." He shakes his head, not expecting much.
The riot draws his attention. "Can you tell us more about these attacks? Have more happened? I would hate to be attacked without a way to defend myself. And what are these riots about? Sounds like you have a powderkeg on your hands."