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You have been stationed at the Grand Lodge in Absalom, awaiting assignment for a mission of utmost importance. Things finally seemed in motion when Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng sent out a summons for available agents. Specialized in the history of Absalom, Dreng is known for putting off-duty agents to work on sundry tasks when he finds them resting within the city’s limits.
Coming to the meeting place—an odd choice of venue, as it is a street corner far from the Grand Lodge—a lone beggar garbed in baggy robes approaches. The only figure visible in the constant drizzle, the beggar sticks out his hands for currency.
“Have you any coin to spare, fine folk?”
The question hangs in the air for only a scant moment before the figure pulls back his hood to reveal the wizened face of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng. He gives a crooked smile, soaked head to toe from his unprotected time in the rain. His clothes smell faintly of cabbage.
“Sorry about that,” he says with a wink.
“I always like to play a little joke on agents when I stumble across them during my jaunts into town. 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 venturecaptain 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 bar.
“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.”
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An extremely tall woman--well over six feet--wearing steel lamellar stands before Drandle Dreng, her kabuto helmet protecting her well-scarred face from the rain. Her mouth appears to naturally hang in a disappointed frown, but her Tien-Min eyes glow with a golden radiance. She keeps her gaze turned slightly downward to spare others their full harsh shine.
After Drandle speaks, Ayo scowls as she looks for a dry spot, shooting occasional glares at Drandle.
"This so-and-so has no questions."
Finding a sufficient dry spot under an overhang, she pulls over a nearby crate and wipes it off any sprinkles of water on it, then pulls out a piece of parchment, a vial of ink, and an inkbrush, laying them out delicately in front of her.
With fluid, dancing brushstrokes, she begins writing:
"Pick up a parcel.
Such is our mysterious quest.
Most likely some booze."
She then follows the process in reverse, returning the inkbrush and the ink to her person. She holds the parchment for it to dry, blowing on it and shielding it from any errant rain as she remains under the overhang. She looks to her fellow Pathfinders.
"Should this mission be that which provides my inevitable death--" Her tone gives away a strong skepticism. "--I have just now prepared a poem telling the circumstances of my mission to be returned to my master. Please retrieve it from my corpse and see that she is given it."
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A tall, stout Dwarf strides confidently up the street. He laughs so hard at the Venture-Captain's practical joke that he almost falls over.
Har! "Coin to spare"! An' you're a Venture-Cap'n! Har!
He follows Ayo under the overhang, heedless of personal space concerns. Watching her pen her poem, he gets excited.
A poem! Smiley knows a poem too!
There once was a minotaur lass,
Who had a big, shapely...axe,
She took me out once,
To a nice picnic lunch,
And turned into a beast with two...ummm...how did that end again?
He laughs abruptly.
Har! Doesn't matter! Ye won't be dying today, fair lass. Ye travel with Smiley Stonegirdle, Seventh Son of a Seventh Son, and luck follows naturally.
He bows deeply in greeting.
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Next to arrive is a frightful-looking Half-Orc woman. Actually, her face and body are quite fit and attractive in a feral way, and her eyes shine with sharp intelligence - but that can be difficult to notice beneath the frightful tattoo running from the side of her face down to nearly the bottom of her left leg, the soft leather armor reinforced with hardwood planks carved to resemble a stylized, yet still rather accurate, external ribcage, the massive axe designed along the same aesthetic and practical lines as those favored by executioners, a bundle of humanoid skulls that appear to have been hollowed out, then filled in again before being sutured shut, hanging at her waist, the sort of vague yet intense "hungry" look she often gives others, and something about her demeanor that is otherwise just...unnatural.
"Well, I think this bodes well," She smiles. You've likely seen other Half-Orcs with much more dangerous-looking jaws, but just the same, her teeth are pretty large and pretty sharp. "A Venture-Captain who likes a bit of fun, and a history lesson for our first assignment!"
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A tall, cadaverous half-elven male with wire-rimmed glasses glances owlishly around at the other people gathered on the street corner.
"Hello! My name's Cartwright, Nigel Percival Cartwright. I'm something of a scholar, and can help with any sort of research that you might need."
He then glances around nervously.
"I'm not usually a field agent, though..."
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Many volumes of the Pathfinder Chronicles came together under the Wisp’s roof. Famous Pathfinders like Eando Kline and the Seeker Osprey often stopped by for a drink while they relaxed in Absalom between assignments. Though not officially affiliated with the Society, the bar maintains good relations with Pathfinders, offering discounts and prompt service. The owners have always kept themselves and the Wisp afloat through the generosity of Society agents who spend coin at the establishment
Selmius Foster was one of the founding members of the Pathfinder Society, known to have frequented the Wisp often and occasionally taken up residence in a spare room between his travels. His celebrated exploits
first appeared in Volume 1 of the Pathfinder Chronicles.
Following the death of Selmius Foster on the island of Bhopan, his assistant Adolphus made several donations to maintain one of his mentor’s favorite sites. The exact arrangement between Adolphus and the owners of the Wisp was never disclosed, but it is said that some of this gold came from the same fortune that Adolphus used to found the Pathfinder lodge in Quantium.
The Wounded Wisp is located in the Foreign Quarter district of Absalom, close to the grounds of the Grand Lodge.
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”— that hangs there during the evening hours - or on dull overcast days like today.
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.
A pretty halfling calls across to RumbleRock "Hi there!" He recalls Janira from his Confirmation.
Around the bar, the patrons are talking about Reinhart of Kenabres.
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"I've heard of this place - this is the original lodge of the Pathfinder Society, in a manner of speaking. The adventurers who would become the Society's founders always came here to exchange stories."
She looks around and sniffs the air.
"Perhaps it fared better back then. I could think of a few better places to go if I were rich and powerful."
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Ayo starts at the dwarf's impertinence as he pushes his way next to her under the overhang. She is about to say something to the dwarf as she hears him begin his own poem.
Ayo's face contorts in rage, her jaw clenched tight. She speaks through her teeth, the light of her gold eyes boring into poor Smiley.
"My poem, written in the Most Honored Form of the Haiku, has little in common with your dirty limerick. You would take care not to mock a samurai."
Ayo breathes in deeply of the room as she takes it in, recognizing the history of the place. As she half-listens to the back-and-forth of her companions, she says a silent prayer to Shizuru before interjecting.
"I am honored to stand in a place of such great history and tradition. I am certain our Pathfinder ancestors kept returning out of respect as well."
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Ho, there, lass! Smiley meant no harm and I'm frightful sorry you didn't like my poem. Smiley's just here to help!
Ach. Poor lass. Her poem didn't even rhyme. She may be a bit daft like my poor brother Mekkar. I'll have to keep an eye on her to keep her safe. Har! She's lucky to have me!
Smiley ambles up to the bar and orders a stout ale. Turning to the patron next to him, he asks,
Who is this "Reinhart of Kenabres", lad? He sounds interesting.
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"Sir Reinhart recently came back from the Mendevian Cruade" says a man.
"He's soo handsome" gushes a nearby woman.
"I heard he's going to try the test of the StarStone!" says the dwarf at their table.
"If so, I suspect he'll take 'male beauty' as his sphere." sighs the woman again.
"Should take stupidity if you ask me" mutters the man.
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Ayo takes off her kabuto helmet and holds in the crook of her arm.
Ayo walks right up to the table with the man, woman, and dwarf having a discussion and looks directly at the man, speaking at full volume.
"I served in the Crusades at the behest of my Master. Perhaps rather than channeling your romantic frustrations into resentment for a brave man who has bled for your safety while you drink in a bar, you should be open about your feelings for this woman."
After dropping that bomb, she walks away, not looking back. She approaches the barkeep. She gives a curt bow.
"I seek Heryn Gale."
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RumbleRock picks Janira up into a hug. He was a broad, tall ebony creature. His strong arms rippled with a clear power underneath them. He was very gentle with the little halfling, though.
"Rumble am glad see Janira again. Remember bad bullman we punished. Evil thing," he grumbled. His broken common tongue echoed across the room like rocks banging against a stone wall.
"Rumble is on mission from Venture Captain. How Janira been?"
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The man chokes on his ale, and the dwarf has a hard time keeping a straight face. Just as well he has a beard.
"What..I don't..." stammers the man.
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At the bar the woman nods to Ayo. "That'd be me. If you could wait for my replacement for a few minutes I'll escort you down there. Grab a chair and have an ale on the house while you wait. Chat with the other patrons if you like, you might learn something useful"
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At one side of the room Janira, surrounded by young pathfinders smiles at the Ored. "Hungry. Janira is hungry. I was hoping for some poached crocodile eggs. I hear that are fabulous. But not on the menuy today. "
She does look a little concerned when he admits to being on a mission.
"Which Captain?" - the worry being obvious in her voice. "And why are you here if you are on a mission?"
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Khāṇa might have intervened in the couple's love-not-quite-triangle in a similar fashion had Ayo not settled the matter with about as much finesse as a hammer cracking a walnut. Or she might not have. Khāṇa, unlike Ayo, is familiar with the concept of "none of my business" - and besides, the man's feelings were obvious; is the woman is even worth it if she really couldn't see them?
Instead, she looks around the room for other possible persons of interest - maybe have a bit of fun.
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Smiley's face brightens and he launches himself off his high barstool to the unrequited love table.
Of ye do, lad. Everyone can see it. Now kiss the girl and get it over with! She's been patient, lad, now And you, lass. He turns to the woman. Help out the poor shy lad. Kiss him! Har!
And Smiley walks away to claim his free ale, oblivious to the table's occupants once again.
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Ayo nods to the bartender but waves away the ale.
"I am on a mission." The word "mission" catches in her throat as she remembers the inanity of it. "My senses must remain sharp."
She scans the room, noting all the people there. Her scowl somehow manages to deepen.
"I will chat...if I must."
Ayo doesn't catch the man's prevarication, but she does catch Smiley's boisterous encouragement. She marches up behind the dwarf, glaring at him again with a vicious stern gaze.
"A woman is under no obligation to give a man, a woman, or Aroden himself a kiss simply because they have feelings for her. If this lout is too much of a coward to be honest until the truth is dragged out of him, he is unworthy of such attentions from anyone."
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Now, lass, if ye be wanting a kiss from ole Smiley, ye just has to ask. Har!
Smiley pickers up, closes his eyes, and waits for the kiss to come.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Ayo sets her helmet down on the dwarf's head, slams a gauntleted hand down on it, leaving it to reverberate against Smiley's head for a few moments, then returns the helmet to the crook of her arm.
"There is only one in all the world I would ask a kiss of. For you to presume yourself the equal of her is laughable."
She stares down Smiley once more, her body stock still. The next two syllables appear to take a great deal of fortitude and concentration for her to produce:
"Hah."
"Hah."
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-=-=-=-= Table for three -=-=-=-=-=-=
The man turns even brighter red. The woman seems oblivious. "We should go and watch him become a God. Wow, that would be something. I wonder if he could be any better looking after he ascends."
The man scowls, muttering into his ale something about "impossible to complete with a fantasy"
-=-=-=-=-=-=- Janira -=-=-=-=-=-=
"Ohh, Dreng. He's pretty good actually. I don't think he has sent any teams off to their death yet this year. Of course a number of the other VCs havn't been quite so lucky. What with the Aspis acting all uppity at the moment..."
-=-=-=-=-= Other folk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The other people in the inn are a variety of folk, some sitting by themselves, others in twos and threes. The loudest is the pair of half orcs. They look a bit like twins. Tweedle dumb and Tweedle dumber. If anything they appear a bit out of place here, but don't seem to notice it. Certainly a number of folk here seem to know them and stop for a chat from time to time.
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Khāṇa shrugs slightly and heads over to the Half-Orcs. She looks over her dominoes and cards (both of decidedly luxury item-quality), then back at them, twinges a muscle in her cheek, and instead picks her humble but trusty bone dice out of her pocket.
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Ilsensine sighs at the thought of the knight taking the Test of the Starstone.
"I, for one, believe this test lures the delusional or gullible to their deaths. Do not become too attached to this knight," she lectures the young lady. "Nature herself makes it nearly a certainty he will not survive. Gravity is not to be trifled with."
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--table for three ---
The man smiles at Ilsensine. "That is what I have been trying to say." he explains. "Please, join us" he stands to offer the elf his seat.
--Orc brothers ---
The two half orcs look at each other.
"Yes! I'm Garl and he's Shrade" says the first.
"And these are Bite and Crush" says the second, introducing their large weapons.
"We're Pathfinders!" they both chime in proudly.
----Janira---
"Those nasty men." agrees the little bard. "One of them picked my pocket even! Can you believe it!"
"As for Dreng, well, the VCs sometimes forget that pathfinders are not all expert swordsmen. Some teams don't come back from missions."
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Khāṇa sits down and explains a game called "Quick Dice, Dead Dice" - the rules aren't too complicated, but can be a bit deceptive, especially for new players, since the 'quick dice' do the rolling, but it's really the 'dead dice' (a 'spotted' die of which each player has one) that determine victory.
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Ayo muses for several moments on Ilsenine's comment, finally speaking in a philosophical tone.
"Certainty of failure is no obstacle to action in those without fear."
Ayo kneels down on the floor and pulls out a piece of paper, a vial of ink, and an inkbrush, laying them out delicately in front of her.
With fluid, dancing brushstrokes, she begins writing:
"Bravery, madness
Moon shifting from black to white
Which color is which?"
She then follows the process in reverse, returning the inkbrush and the ink to her person and standing up. She holds the paper for it to dry.
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Ilsensine raises an eyebrow at Ayo's comment.
"I do not doubt this brave man will act. I only doubt that he will defy gravity," she says.
She declines to sit with the man and his love-interest.
"I apologize, but I do not have time to further discuss this. I have several tasks to perform that do not allow me time for leisure today."
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Khana makes a bit of money off the brothers, but then they get lucky and win it back.
After a few minutes Heryn comes to get you. She takes you through the kitchen, down to a cellar and then through a storage room.
"Take care here, we have not got around to fixing this.."
A large crack runs through the middle of the room and a board has been laid across it.
It creaks as she slowly (1/4 speed) works her way across it. The team can cross with no real difficulty.
"I plans on having the wooden board replaced soon.." she apologizes.
Beyond is the wine cellar.
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Ayo stands with the rest of the party as they group up across the plank. She stands there for several moments, tapping against the handle of her sheathed katana, then suddenly begins walking on without the others. She pauses and looks back over her shoulder.
"Why are we all standing around? We seek a wine bottle. Let us find it and return it to the Venture-Captain so we can find a better use of our time."
She continues on towards the wine shelves and begins searching for the bottle in-question.
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The group enters the wind cellar and starts to look around...
There seems little rhyme or reason to the stacking, almost as if people just plonked new bottles where they could find a gap.
Ilsensine is the lucky one to find the required bottle. However when she takes it out it appears to be stuck. A bit of a twist and suddenly it comes free - opening a secret door behind the wine rack as it does so...
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The passage leads into a (remarkably) lit area beyond. Either someone is trying to pull a fast one on Smiley or there is magic at work.
And a bad smell. Did I mention a bad smell? That certainly isn't lucky. Maybe the light has a bad smell to it, that would be too bad really.
A sturdy silver chain jutting from the ceiling ends in a glowing orb that radiates yellow light across the rectangular room. A simple desk of polished wood, stacked with documents and scattered notes, shelters a pair of wooden chests against the south wall. A series of cracks along the eastern and western walls form makeshift entrances into exposed caverns
But Yuck. What a revolting smell.