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Jal slowly drums the fingers of his right hand on the table’s wooden top as he slouches in the tavern’s balcony-seating chair overlooking the strange bazaar, blue-gray eyes squinting against the sun’s light. He takes a sip of the warm ale as he re-reads a small note resting on the table. It’s something he’s done a few times over the last quarter hour or so, and—with a practiced patience—Jal slips the note into a pocket and returns to his patient, slouching survey of the people and activity around him.
As a somewhat average-looking young man with the dark hair and olive skin of a Varisian, he doesn’t stand out much. His clothes are similarly common to Varisian travelers—simple, practical, comfortable but with splashes of jarring color and adapted for an adventurer’s life. His kapenia particularly stands out, a traditional varisian scarf of mish-mashed purples, oranges, and reds wrapped loosely around his neck despite the heat. Peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeves are a pair of expensive, highly-detailed, full-color tattoos—Desna’s symbol on the left, that of Calistria on the right. A quick scan of the rest of his exposed skin reveal similarly-expensive tattoos, including a boot on a road backed by stars and moon on the right side of his neck. Varisians and their tattoos.
On the other hand, the color and slight tilt to his eyes—along with the distinctive points of his ears peeking out from his unruly, unkempt hair—give away his mixed elven blood. Long of arm and lean of build, he moves with an easy athleticism even when slouching. His gear is that of an adventurer … or maybe a mercenary. A longsword—sheathed in simple leather with a shoulder-harness strap—rests against his chair … within easy reach. Daggers peek out at belt and boot, and a few other varied weapons ornament his person as well as his pack, which rests in the corner alongside a heavily-used wooden shield. If the road dust clinging to his boots, clothes and bulging, double-sized pack are any indicator, the young man is only recently arrived.
Jal gives his head a slow shake as he raises the ale to his lips. ”Pathfinders,” he mutters before taking another slow sip.
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Perched cross-legged on top of a small round cask sits a young half-elf dressed in the flowing robes of a monk, with a composite longbow balanced across his folded hands. Wild tufts of hair jut out at odd angles, contradicting the srenity of his meditative posture.
His eyes open as the other men make introductions - with a wide grin, he rises and hefts the keg, placing on the table near the tattooed Varisian with a thump.
"Greetings, Mordack. I am Tophor, of the Brothers Cailean." Filling a flagon from the cask, inhales the aroma of the red frothy brew and raises his mug in tribute before taking a refreshing draw. "Could I interest you fellows in a sample of our latest crimson ale? You'd be the first outside of the order to sample this new recipe."
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A man with the lean and reddish features of a Kellid at the far end of the balcony walks slowly to join them. His armored coat and cestus belie the rangy look of one who has clearly spent his youth in a wilderness tribe. A multitude of beads, fringes, and designs of animals on his clothing peeking out from his coat mark him as one who reveres spirits--but further details resolve as he nears, far odder. A tiny owl perched on his shoulder, eyes screwed shut against the day, its blue-black plumage filled with faintly glowing points that keep their relative position in space even as the animal shifts slightly, and the man's eyes, glinting slightly with unseen starlight.
He smiles and raises a hand to greet them, and speaks in a relaxed, accented voice. "Hello, hello. I am Shungur. I believe we're all to meet. Ah, and this is Ptekoah. She is sleeping. You are…drinking now?"
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Jal squints up at the display of acid-tossing, then at the Kellid and his bird. A friendly smirk accompanies a shake of his head, ”Always good to have a mage on-board.” He shares the same reserved smirk with the monk before throwing back his head to empty his cup, which he then slides over in front of Brother Tophor. ”Always good to have a brewer on-board, too.”
He gives the Kellid’s question a raised eyebrow, ”The road could end after any step, friend. I say never turn down a good tale, a pretty skirt, or a free drink.” With his cup newly-refreshed, he raises it quickly, giving a slight nod of his head that encompasses the whole group. ”To open roads, easy jobs, and big payouts.”
He takes a swig, then slouches back into his chair, ”I’m Jal. I can’t summon acid … or ale, but I’ll do my best to keep us one step ahead of any trouble on this … assignment.”
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”Not a clue.”
Jal puts a boot up on the edge of the table, pushing and rocking back to balance on two rear legs … where he continues pulling on the monk’s ale. ”VC says frog, we jump, right?” He shrugs, then cuts his eyes over to his fellow half-elf. ”So what about you, Brother Tophor of the Brothers Cailean? Other than alcoholic philanthropy, what are you here for?” He gives the longbow a nod, ”That just for show?”
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”That just for show?”
Sliding a mug of his creation over to Shungur, Tophor's grin does not waver. "Indeed not, Jal. In addition to the fine art of brewing, our order trains our bodies and minds for combat and service to the peoples of Golarion. I also have some skill with locks and such..." Trailing off, he mumbles to himself, "...though Brother Shoka says I should not boast of such things."
Bringing his attention back to the room, Tophor fills a mug for Mordack.
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"Some locks are simply mean to be opened, Brother Tophor," says Shungur, his eyes preternaturally twinkling. "And if it be for the good of a mission, so be it. I have found many doors and paths opening to me by assenting to fate, or what feels best--perhaps they are the same thing. What brought you all to fair Absalom?"
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Jal nods along to Tophor's answer. "Same here. Just off a job up in Varisia. Caught wind of this one."
He looks briefly at a tattoo on the back of his left wrist, one that looks fresh. "If someone sends you up to a joint called Kaer Maga, you should take it. Those guys are hard-up for some adventurin' help. Just make sure you know how to handle yourself around undead." He pauses and cocks his head, pausing before he takes a drink. " ... and demons."
He looks over at the Kellid and Mordack, "You?"
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"I've only recently had my Confirmation and was already training here, so my journey was a short one--from one part of Absalom to this lovely view." Shungur gestures at the cityscape with one hand. "Jal, I've never been to Varisia, but if I do travel that way, I shall look at Kaer Maga. It sounds like they have great need for assistance there."
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After taking in the sights of Kerse from the balcony of manor home of
Temel Passad, a prominent Kalistocrat the team of pathfinders retires inside to enjoy the merchant's hospitality.
Each of you thinks over the contents of the note that brought you here.
Pathfinders,
Society agents recently learned of a lost, previously undocumented Sky Citadel in what
was once Sarkoris, the land now consumed by the Worldwound. As we cannot push into
that demon-infested wasteland ourselves, we have recruited dwarven aid in the dangerous
expedition. In exchange for military assistance and historical expertise, the dwarves will have
the opportunity to reclaim this lost stronghold. Two weeks ago, Highhelm sent an entourage
of diplomats and tacticians north toward Mendev to meet with Venture-Captain Jorsal of
Lauterbury to discuss terms and develop a plan of attack. When they failed to arrive in a
timely fashion, Jorsal commissioned sending magic to contact Rakuska Ingardam, the mission’s
leader. Rakuska’s return message—cut off due to the magic’s limit—was as follows:
“Passed Xer, paid our way, but attacked and overcome. Razmiri priests hold us for unknown
purpose. We are held somewhere near the Glass River at…”
One of several possible places they are held is the Gray Revelation Inn, about thirty miles
east of Xer—we suspect the Razmiri priesthood uses the site to interrogate prisoners. You
must investigate and liberate the three dwarven envoys—if indeed that is where they are
imprisoned—and then escort them to Mendev. Accompanying you are two other dwarves
who will take the captured envoys’ places if you aren’t successful: merchant Metella Raugar
and respected Pahmet mystic Amauhak. The Kalistocrat Temel Passad, a Druman with whom
we have dealt in the past, has volunteered a boat to transport you north, and I see little reason
why we should not take him up on this offer. Building a good working relationship with one
or more influential merchants would be to everyone’s benefit.
Good luck!
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Jal slips the note back into his pocket, chewing the inside of his lip as he considers the situation. He leaves his gear where it lies, but unthinkingly grabs up and straps on his blade … habits and all.
As Mordack addresses the dwarves, Jal turns to the place’s owner.
”So, you have a nice little spread here,” Jal says as he looks around Passad’s house. ”If I were you, I might be inclined to just hang out here and get someone else to help out some dusty Pathfinders. Why the help? Moreover, what do you know about all this? What do you think the Razmiris want with the dwarves?”
He idly picks up one of the man’s room decorations, watching the merchant from the corner of his eye.
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Shungur bows to their host and addresses Metella and Amauhak carefully and honorably. "Blessings of the earth upon you, brothers. I am Shungur. Do you know the envoys, what they are like?" His tiny owl opens her eyes to peer at the room, head rotating smoothly, her plumage continuing to reflect unseen stars.
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Two silent servants open a pair of richly lacquered doors, and a
human and two dwarves stride into the lavish parlor. The man,
clad in immaculate robes of whitest silk, is short and round with a
blond oiled beard, and his eyes are alert and amused. He takes a
touch of snuff from a golden box and sneezes before saying, “It is a
pleasure to welcome Pathfinders to one of my estates once more.
I am, as you may know, Temel Passad. Allow me to introduce—”
One of the two dwarves, a redheaded female in deep scarlet
robes, curtly interrupts the man. “We can introduce ourselves,
Passad. I am Metella Raugar, representing the interests of several
Highhelm mercantile consortia. My companion”—she gestures
to a dwarven man with leathery skin baked by the sun, his head
swathed in a bright yellow scarf—“is Amauhak of Reth Bezel, a
mystic of the sand dwarves of Osirion.”
Razmir, known as the Lord of the 31 Steps, claims
to have taken the Test of the Starstone and ascended to
divinity. He appeared before the people of Xer in the Duchy
of Melcat 52 years ago and now acts as both sovereign and
god of those captured lands
It is no secret that the Razmiri clergy rely more
on bullying than on divine miracles, often exploiting
travelers to fill the church’s coffers. The regular patrols of
faithful enforcers searching for dissension has resulted
in the paranoia that runs throughout the government
and the populace. Any friendliness from a native is cause
for suspicion
While not all citizens of Razmiran worship the living
god, none would admit as much publicly, especially to
outsiders who may be undercover clergy.
A few scholars who have observed the faithful of
Razmir performing healing magic claim that the divine
magic functions in an abnormal way, different from
that granted by other gods. A handful of sages speculate
that Razmir’s claim of divinity is questionable, but
there is no evidence to prove that he is anything but
all-powerful.
"Who knows why the Razmiri do anything? They seem quite insecure, especially with respect to other religions. Maybe they saw our envoys as a thread?"
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Passad thinks for a moment.
"“Ideally we will rescue the three dwarves: Rakuska
Imgardam, a well-known Five Kings diplomat
and devotee of Torag; Holfist Sendstrom of
Taggoret; and Pechas Domri—like Amauhak, a
Pahmet dwarf of Osirion. All are valued for
their strategic and military acumen.”
He looks over at Mettela for a moment. "Failing that, we get safely up the river ourselves. I will provide a small boat and crew. You will ensure we are successful."
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”Well met, Masters Passad, Raugar, and Amauhak.” He dips his head to each, but he lets his gaze linger on Mettela. In his usual manner, the Varisian skips further formalities. ”The Society asked us to get your missing envoys to Mendev. If they’re still alive, I mean to see that done.”
Jal pauses to consider as his blue-gray eyes flit between Passad and Mettela, weighing the tension between the two merchants. ”That’s the beauty of the Society … Explore. Report. Cooperate.” He gives a look around at his Pathfinder companions, ”It doesn’t matter who we are or what we bring to the table … talented folks working together can nearly always find a …" his look ends directed on the two merchants, "... profitable solution.”
Changing subjects, he looks out the window as he speaks to Temel. "What can I do to help your crew ready for the trip? I hate to waste any time." He gives a half-smile that doesn't quite touch his eyes, "We have to go ruin some Razmiri's plans."
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"If I may suggest some...capital investments...to ensure a...good return," says Shungur, the terms sounding strange coming from a Kellid, "...we need items for a rescue on or near water. Ropes, grapnels, possibly magic items or spells for water. And then, disguises for the ones we have rescued, even if simple ones." He ticks off his list and then appears a little embarrassed at his material worldliness.
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Jak shrugs, "And here I was just hoping to ... um ... discourage their pursuit. It's a good idea, though. Not that I have any idea how to disguise someone." He hikes a thumb back towards his bulging secondary pack. "I have fifty feet of rope and a grappling hook in there."
"If you have any specific ideas on water magic, I have some extra coin on me."
He looks around the crew, "And since it might come up when we get to the inn, any of you know how to work a decent con?"
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"What is a con?" asks Shungur with a complete lack of guile. "I do not have a talent for disguise either, but perhaps it is not necessary. As for spells, the only magic I can think of would enable someone lightly armored to climb and swim well. I believe there are spells to make one breathe underwater...but the spirits do not grant me that. Discouraging pursuit does sound like a wonderful option," he finishes with a grin.
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A tall man with small but notable stubs of horns walks in. He is carrying a myriad of different vials, and reagents ranging from pungent to sweet. He heartily greets the merchants "Ah yes, so you must be the trade representatives we who so admirably offered to help out with our endeavors to free the diplomats. Well met! I am Valrus and you have my, the pathfinder society, and in particular, the exchange's thanks for your offers of assistance." I offer my hand towards all who would take it.
Valrus mulls over his fellow Pathfinder's suggestions "As far as our plans to get the diplomats out safely. If we find them there, shouldn't we extricate them, eliminating those who would oppose us with extreme prejudice. I've never known a Razmiri I've called a friend."
Valrus then thinks about what you meant regarding deception."As far as finding them goes, it seems to me a few merchants and their guards traveling up river shouldn't raise too many eyebrows. Certainly you could refer any question of alchemical supplies my way. I have enough supplies on hand as to not arouse too many suspicions."
Finally he asks of his fellow Pathfinders, and the merchants as well "Does anyone know anything about this inn that the hostages are being held at or why they were captured in the first place?"
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Nobody has heard of the inn in question.
But thinking back on the note you received, it appears the only information available on the abduction was from a 'message' spell:
“Passed Xer, paid our way, but attacked and overcome. Razmiri priests hold us for unknown purpose. We are held somewhere near the Glass River at…”
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Jal grins back at Shungur. "A con. Ya know, a ruse. A calculated deception aimed at getting something from someone. You really do need to spend some time up in Varisia. As to your spell for lightly-armored folk..." he looks around at the crew then back at the Kellid with a smile, " ... well, that looks like everyone but you, really."
Jal looks back at the two merchants. "And it sounded like the envoys got hit with some kind of fines for passing through the area. You gonna pay those for us all?"
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"Excuse me, excuse me", mutters a female half elf, pushing through and breathless. "I'm...Mylitta", she gasps, heaving in deep breaths slightly, miserably failing to hold up to her usual standard of graceful poise.
"I'm rather skilled at subterfuge", she continues when she gets her breath back, "Disguising myself, walking in as a musician, Charm...you name it, I can do it"
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Valrus gives a hearty smile to Jal. "Well, I'm more of the mind that those who'd stop my boat can learn what fire does to a ship than trying to avoid being stopped in the first place. I can't imagine that the Razmiri would bother checking the descriptions of those on a boat before stopping said boat, but if it'd put your mind at ease, we can try to disguise the envoys, should we find them. That said, I'm glad the grand lodge sent us a charming minstrel to help locate our lost friends." Valrus nods towards at Mylitta.
Valrus gives Brother Tophor a heartily smile " Now, with my smaller more portable lab I may not be able to do as much as I could back in the grand lodge, but given a decent stock distillation can prove quite useful... I assure you I haven't burned down a single boat I've been on yet. Valrus seems almost proud of the last statement.
Valrus then turns towards Passard "I certainly can make my preparations and be ready to depart by sundown. Would the rest of you need any help to get ready before then? If not then I'll be seeing about setting up my lab on the ship for use during our journey." Valrus addresses the entire group with his last statement.
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"As to your spell for lightly-armored folk..." he looks around at the crew then back at the Kellid with a smile, " ... well, that looks like everyone but you, really."
"I also prefer to fight without the burden of cumbersome armor, Shaman. I have found certain spells to be of aid in that department, when I'm in the company of one who has the magical knack." Tophor punctuates this by flourishing a tightly-rolled scroll from his bandolier.
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"Mylitta, welcome. Ah, a deception. Thank you, Jal; my grasp of Taldan is shaky on the edges. I think that with a few supplies we can…wing this, is that correct? In Hallit we would say "jump on the mammoth", but I'm not sure that translates well." He grins. "Although it's true, I'm the least able to climb or jump in this bunch, thanks to my coat."
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Nobody seems sure about the name, although Temel suggests that "Maybe it is as clear as Glass?"
That evening the group, after making any purchases , heads down to Temel's small ship, the Abacus.
The journey along the coast of Lake Encarthan from Kerse is uneventful. Passad's crew (four sailors and the captain) are quiet and efficient, and the boat reaches the mouth of the Glass River and heads east without incident.
"We are about the enter Razmiri waters" announces the captain. And that is where the trouble starts.
Temel starts to direct the ship to be set for Xer "To pay any necessary tolls."
Metella however disagrees "Stopping at Xer gives the authorities a chance to search the boat and discover our group of Envoys. Look what they did to the last ones!"
They both turn to the group of Pathfinders to help determine the best approach.
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Jal nods along, then looks over at Metella with as much calm confidence as he can muster. "We play our cards right, we can avoid raising suspicion and establish our cover for the recovery effort. It's the right bet." He looks over at Mylitta with a smile. "Who knows, maybe she'll be able to turn the tables on them and get us some helpful information."