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"Hello! I was looking for the bathroom, but when I tried to ask the scary lady at the counter where it was she just looked at me and told me I was late and told me to come here. I hope I'm not late to go to the bathroom. That would be awkward. And messy."
"Also why are there so many people in the bathroom?"
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Clouds have darkened the skies of Absalom this brisk fall evening, pouring heavy rain on every inch of the metropolis. Many have sought shelter from taverns and homes alike to avoid getting drenched save those who rever rain and water. Workers, cursing their ill fate, keep unloading ships, making deliveries and whatnot regardless of Gozreh's whims.
Venture-captain Drandle Dreng looks out of the window of his home's office and shakes his head to the bad weather. He turns around and you see a stout and hardy Taldan with thin, graying hair and a thick, bushy moustache. The room's magical flames create a cozy lighting, perfect for reading books and inspecting other written materials. He walks around his desk, unfurls a map on his butcher-block table and places a meaty finger on the parchment.
"The abandoned district of Beldrin's Bluff was once the gem of Absalom's Precipice District—now it is but a weathered crag of broken rock at the edge of the roiling sea. When the great quake hit ten years ago, entire blocks of the Bluff sheared from the mainland. Cliffside teamrooms and exclusive estates fell into the waves and carried hundreds of nobles to a watery grave. An elite academy, called the Tri-Towers Yard, remained on the mainland, but sank whosesale into the earth. Children unfortunate enough to survive the quake lay pinned under debris as sewer water slowly rose from the ground and drowned them. Nearly every student perished."
The captain sighs heavily, holding a moment of silence as a memorial to those unfortunate souls.
"Today, crumbled stone walls and weed-filled lots sprawl where gentlemen's clubs once filled with pipe smoke and hobnobbing lords. The Drownyard—er, that's what the ill-mannered call the school these days—lies behind a fence of black iron spikes, constructed by the families of the dead to discourage morbid trespassers."
"Even respected archaeological groups have been denied official access. Our own Society has itched to explore the site ever since the quake—that is, ever since we discovered that the school fell through the roof a lost necropolis. Unfortunately and understandably, the emotional trauma attached to the school has remained fresh. But finally, after ten years of mourning, the politically-connected families of dead students have sanctioned our delve request."
With a toothy smile and a clap, Dreng says, "I'm pleased to announce that I've selected your team for the delve. I want you to find a way into the necropolis, document your findings with professional detail, and recover artifacts of historical significance. The Society is interested in one artifact in particular—a two-finger ring topped with a ruby salamander."
He pauses, anticipating questions.
Beldrin's Bluff was once among the finest and most elegant neighborhoods in Absalom, but is today among the poorest, most derelict and abandoned in the city. In 4698 AR the Isle was hit with a terrible earthquake which sheered off the edge of the cliffs and sent two of Beldrin's towers and several blocks of the district into the sea below. The elite residents of the district, in fear that the rest of the cliff was soon to follow, fled the neighborhood, leaving behind blocks of abandoned buildings and crumbling structures.
The district is now only sparsely populated and remains one of the most dangerous parts of Absalom. Rumors of hauntings and magical mishaps left over from Beldrin's research plague the few residents who remain, but these rumors keep eager adventurers and Pathfinders flowing into the neighborhood to explore and brave the very dangers that are now so prevalent in this once-idyllic quarter.
Beldrin's Bluff grew in prominence when the mysterious Beldrin, a powerful and enigmatic arcanist, built a tri-spired ivory tower atop the majestic rocky cliffs along the Isle of Kortos' southern shore, on the edge of the Precipice Quarter. Wishing to live in the majestic shadow of this architectural wonder, the city's wealthiest nobles, artisans, and merchants flocked to the neighborhood, bringing prosperity and culture to the entire district.
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"Right. Got it. A ring with two fingers on top of a ruby salad-maker. I didn't even know rings could have fingers. I'm learning new things all the time with my new best friends."
"I hope the salad maker makes good salad though. Hopefully ones with just the meat and no veggies. Those are the best kind."
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Bertha scratches the head of the boar sitting at her feat. "I am honored to be selected for such a mission. I will need to pick up some paper and pens to document as we go, but otherwise I am ready."
As the big guy in blue armor talks, Bertha first appears confused, and then begins to chuckle. This might be interesting.
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A tall half elf with blonde-white hair, dressed in an amazing panoply of fine garments, grins, revealing pearlescent teeth that flash brilliantly in the light.
"My tall friend, I believe that the ring goes over two fingers, rather than it having two fingers itself."
He looks thoughtful for a moment.
"I have heard a little bit about the area. Beldrin's Bluff was once among the finest and most elegant neighborhoods in Absalom, but is today among the poorest, most derelict and abandoned in the city. In 4698 AR the Isle was hit with a terrible earthquake which sheered off the edge of the cliffs and sent two of Beldrin's towers and several blocks of the district into the sea below. The elite residents of the district, in fear that the rest of the cliff was soon to follow, fled the neighborhood, leaving behind blocks of abandoned buildings and crumbling structures."
Jarlaxle then turns to Dandle Dreng.
"If we have permission to enter, surely there is a key of some kind we can borrow to enter the facility? Also, is anything known about this necropolis that we will be descending into?"
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"Of course," Drandle Dreng says and pulls an iron key from his waistcoat. "I leave you with the key to the Drownyard gate. Remember, the Drownyard is a deeply personal site for many powerful Inner Sea families. You will tread upon the graves of their children. Be sure to give the site the respect it deserves."
"As for the necropolis, well, moldering texts tell of a coastal necropolis, rich with ancient treasures. Until the Tri-Towers sank, no one knew the necropolis's location."
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"Glad to see another of my kind around here"
Standing before you having came in mid briefing is a tall Half-Orc dripping water all over the floor as it is obvious he was strolling through the rain. Standing behind him is a rather tired looking donkey with a small sign hanging around her neck that reads "Bessy" in a pained scrawl.
"So I hear we are looking for a salad-maker? That's good, I do enjoy salad. Sad to hear about all of the dead children... that makes Riceak sad. Oh by the way, I am Riceak, humble merchant and new recruit to this Pathfinder Society. This is Bessy" The brute says motioning to the donkey. "She is my bestest friend and has been with me since we were young.
"I am ready to depart whenever the rest of you are... it is good to be out on this mission with you all."
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"Hooray! More friends! Wait. Nobody told me there was also a green team. But green is kinda like blue. I mean, Tucker was half-green. So was Carolina. So I guess that is ok. Even if they were both mean sometimes. Or alot of the time."
Caboose seems kinda lost in his own world at this point...or, well, all the time, really.
He appears to stare really hard at Drendle Dreng for the longest time, as if taking in all that the Venture Captain was saying. Then he speaks, to the consternation of all in the room.
"Oh I will have lots of respect for dead people! My best friend was a ghost! Or at least we thought he was a ghost, but then he turned out to be a computer AI that pretended to get mad at me all the time but he really liked me and we were best friends."
"Also, black-people police with treasure? Tucker was black, but I don't think he had any treasure. I also don't think he was a police-man. Why do policeman have treasure anyway? Are they also pirates? Are we going to the beach? I'll go put on my swimming-pants!"
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A tall swarthy man of obvious Vudrani descent, listens attentively as the venture captain speaks.
Wearing gold-colored scale armor, also of Vudran design, and sporting a number of weapons and a shield, he seems prepared for combat. The open blue hand of the god Irori is openly displayed.
Although clean shaven, he has a mustache even more impressive then Drandle Dreng's. Clearly he has spent a great deal of effort (and product) grooming it, as it forms a majestic arc on both sides before curling up and over, seeming to defy gravity itself.
When he speaks, it is with a quick Vudrani accent.
"Ah, its is my most fortuitous pleasure to be asked to accompany these most august persons into what seems a most sombre and regrettable location."
He suddenly smiles brightly, he teeth shining whitely beneath a mustache that seems to dance as he speaks.
"Jayori Bissumbhur." He says, by way of introduction, bowing slightly. "Honored champion of the Master of Masters and ever seeking perfection, in all its myriad forms."
He smiles again before adding. "You may call me Jay."
"The unfortunate fates of these noble children brings great sadness to my humble heart. We will take great pains to cause no offense." He says, earnestly to Drang's request.
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A look of consternation passes over Caboose's face as he struggles to give meaning to the golden-armored man's big words and string them together into a coherent idea.
"The unfortunate fates of these noble children brings great sadness to my humble heart. We will take great pains to cause no offense." He says, earnestly to Drang's request.
"Yes," Caboose replies with feigned-comprehension. "We will bring great pain to the fence that divides us from the children and J's heart! Let there be no fence! Though how J is divided from his heart right now and still alive, I have no idea."
It is apparent that that is far from the only thing Caboose has no idea about.
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You swiftly gather your belongings – the key to the Drownyard included – and head out of venture-captain Drandle Dreng's home office to the muddy streets of Absalom.
After making your last minute purchases from the closing general stores, a drenched courier in livery arrives, desperately trying to shield himself from the rain with a small umbrella.
"Pathfinders? You're the ones who've been tasked to explore the Tri-Towers Yard? he asks, slightly annoyed, "I have a letter from a person of great importance." the courier declares and bows, handing out a letter wrapped in leather. "Have a good day." he concludes and leaves, not giving any of you a chance to ask questions.
The letter reads:
Heroes of the Society,
It has come to my attention that you and your cohorts were chosen by the noble Pathfinders to enter and explore what became of the Tri-Towers Yard. As my daughter, Junia, was lost there during the great quake, it seems only proper that you attend the banquet I am holding tomorrow in memory of her. You and your friends should wear your finest and arrive at the Dacilane Estate in the Ivy District at sundown. As you are probably not accustomed to the traditions of nobles, not attending this dinner would be a serious slight upon the memory of my daughter.
Sincerely,
Lady Miranda Dacilane
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"Most interesting." Jayori exclaims, after examining the invitation.
"A formal banquet to honor the memory of a lost child." He nods slightly, clearly approving. He then glances hesitantly at the others. "Though I cannot help but wonder if she knows the manner of guests she invites into her home?"
He smiles ruefully.
"It is not until nightfall tomorrow evening, however. Time enough to learn something of what happened that fateful and ominous night. Perhaps we will have some news to report to this Lady seeking closure."
He looks thoughtful for a moment, before adding. "Of course, if we do not make it out by tomorrow evening, with suitable time to make ourselves presentable, we could do great harm to the Society's reputation."
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"A formal banquet to honor the memory of a lost child." He nods slightly, clearly approving. He then glances hesitantly at the others. "Though I cannot help but wonder if she knows the manner of guests she invites into her home?"
"A party? Ooh boy! I love parties! I know, we should go look for that lost child. Then we can bring her to the party too! It will be the best. Party. EVER!"
Caboose seems absolutely thrilled by the thought of the banquet, though the purpose of the banquet seems completely lost on him.
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Sharien puts a hand on Caboose's arm. "A child lost to the gods, Caboose. She is deceased. The party is in mourning."
Caboose's face falls at Sharien's explanation.
"Oh. Oh yeah, now I feel silly. I had a disease once too. It was awful. I got it from eating too much chicken and it was turning me into chicken, but then I got better. I think the party in the morning would really cheer her up. I will find something nice to wear. And we should bring her cookies!"
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Bertha looks at the group and sighs. No way are we going to impress at a fancy dinner...
"While I am eager to explore, there is nothing we expect to find that should not be able to wait another day. Meanwhile, we were instructed to be sympathetic and maintain good relations, so I think we must make an appearance. I am not sure how we can be made presentable, but we need to try. Perhaps some other Pathfinders can help?"
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Jarlaxle shrugs.
"Perhaps if we search the ruins, we will find mementos of those that were lost, which could go a long way towards impressing our host? Regardless of whether we search the ruins before or after the banquet, however, I think it would be a good idea if we visited some tailors for appropriate garb..."
He then sniffs delicately.
"...and it would also probably be tactful to bathe. As charmingly masculine as the scent of Eau de Adventurer is, it is not generally found at such gatherings..."
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Riceak eyes Sharien after her offer... and raises and eyebrow.
"Well if you want to assist in that bath, Riceak might not hate it so much.
Turning to Bertha and Jarlaxle.
"Riceak votes we go and scout it out tonight, do a little search and just make sure we are out before sun up... This cart wasn't packed for nothing."
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"A party and a road trip! Oh man! This will be the best adventure. EVER!"
Caboose's blind enthusiasm seems to suggest that he does not really mind one way or the other. From your interactions with him, you get the impression that you shouldn't really put much weight on his decisions anyway, impaired as his ability to make them is.
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You trek through the empty, sodden roads of Absalom, all the way to the edge of the Precipice district. The once elegant and luxurious district is now a shadow of its former self. Pouring rain and the lack of lights makes the quarter all the more depressing. A peering pair of eyes blinks from the sidealley, only to disappear the next moment. Home to exiles and criminals, law-abiding citizens often avoid traveling in the Precipice quarter.
Navigating to the restricted Drownyard is easy. A fence of black iron pikes surrounds a block-wide yard. Dead tree branches reach out from the fence like the arms of emaciated prisoners desperate to escape. A man is on the inside, cutting the trees down. Some of the dismembered branches remain, stuck in place by knotty elbows swollen around the iron.
The sky darkens as the sun retreats to the horizon, yet the rain continues. Ominous rumbling from afar the ocean bodes a thundering storm for the night to come.
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Jarlaxle watches, quite amused, when Caboose walks forward to speak with the man, and bounces off the fence blocking his path.
"Perhaps if we went in via the gate, you might find it easier to approach the man?"
He then busies himself looking for the aforementioned gate, so that he can do just that...
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The man looks up from his sawing and watches you for a moment before continuing his work. He wipes his thinning hair, matted and sweaty, off his face while sawing. He doesn't seem to be bothered by the rain pounding on him.
Beyond him there are partially collapsed buildings and three whitewashed towers leaning towards a lake-filled yard.
Jarlaxle proceeds to open the gate with the key provided by venture-captain Drandle Dreng. The instant the padlock drops, the sawing man drops his tools and starts to walk towards the gate with a broad smile on his face. While walking he reaches out a hand to shake the pathfinders.
"Well well, and whom do I have the pleasure to be introduced to?" he asks discreetly, his accent of obvious noble descendence.
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"Hello. My name is Michael J. Caboose. These are my friends. We are searching for puffs. We are supposed to be finding them. Also, we are looking for a salad-maker. He wears two rings on one finger."
He leans in towards the strange man and says in a conspirational tone, but still loud enough that anyone within 20 metres could hear him loud and clear.
"Do you know any salad-makers?"
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Jarlaxle gives the man an exaggerated bow, and smiles warmly.
"My name is Jarlaxle. Don't be alarmed by my rather enthusiastic friend there - he just has a rather unique way of approaching his undertakings. We are here as representatives of the Pathfinder Society to explore the Necropolis below this site. Who are you? We weren't expecting to find anyone else here."
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Jayori observes the dark remains of the academy with a solemn eye.
When they come across the man, working on the tree branches, he looks puzzled.
"A most inauspicious time to be doing yard work." He says, glancing up at the rain and darkened nighttime sky.
He lets Jarlaxle smooth over the barbarian's social inequities and make introductions, instead merely watching with a thoughtful eye.
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"Introductions! Splendid!" the man cries out exuberantly, "my name is Deris Marlinchen, best of times to meet you! I thought I'd tend the grounds while I wait for my daughter, Cassiel, to finish her school day. You-you should see how she's grown! Those beautiful, beautiful long braids!"
"Salad-makers? he asks, puzzled, "you mean cooks?"