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Incense hangs heavy in the air in a meeting chamber of Manaket’s Swordmeet Lodge, where Venture-Captain Obo stands before a low table. “I won’t mince words,” he declares as he strokes his graying beard. “This mission is of vital importance to the Pathfinders’ success in the Worldwound. The Society has many powerful spellcasters, yet few can compare to the Riftwardens in feats of demon-banishing. That Abyssal scar spawns many demons, and the aid of capable abjurers would be a great boon in our march to Jormurdun, the newly discovered Sky Citadel . When our leaders requested the Riftwardens’ aid, we were denied; too many of their wizards are already committed to Mendev’s cause.”
Obo’s face betrays his chagrin, and he continues. “However, in saying no, they tantalized us with a means of securing their trust and alliance. Several Riftwardens led by Jahani Jodinaj and stationed in Azir were recently preparing for a dangerous task, but they recently stopped responding to magical missives. Were we Pathfinders to investigate these Riftwardens’ disappearance, we would have performed a great service to be repaid in kind. Ah,” he notes with some pleasure as two servant carry platters of drinks and fruit into the room, “We have refreshments. May you find them to your pleasure.”
As he begins peeling an orange, he frowns and adds, “We have one potential ally in this investigation, though I doubt he will leap at the chance to help. A contact of mine recently spotted the former Pathfinder Eando Kline in the sook of Azir. He has donned the guise of a copper merchant and likely prefers a degree of anonymity, but he is also a very well-connected man; if anyone knows what ills have befallen the Riftwardens, it is he. Should he not wish to speak, tell him, ‘Sasha Antif-Arah sends her regards—healthy and alive from Andoran.’
“Beyond that, be careful, Pathfinders. The sands of Rahadoum are unforgiving, and the Pure Legion is even less so.”
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The sharply presented frigate pulls into the harbour of the port city of Manaket, Andoran flag gently dancing in the wind – its eagle seemingly in flight. A gilt nameplate reveals the ship as ‘The Raven’. Moments after it docks, a sharply dressed but slightly disreputable and roguish looking Galtan begins to disembark, several of the crew are heard to shout to him as they flick off lazy salutes ”Adieu le Capitaine!”, he waves back to them with a bit of a flourish as he strides down the gangplank with the surety and confidence of a man used to being in command.
The handsome fellow adjusts his tricorne, ensuring the cockade is well presented, before continuing through the streets humming the national anthem of his native homeland, his feet almost dancing as he makes his way to the rendezvous – pausing only momentarily whilst he avails himself of some red wine, fresh bread, and soft cheese.
"Captain Blackjack of The Raven, I see I have arrived just in time" he scoops up a passing drink and fruit. "Monsiuer Obo, you would have us travel to the capital Azir and find out the fate of these Riftwardens, possibly with the aid of comrade Eando? How are we to travel? If it is required for us to overland then we will no doubt require some livestock and a guide perhaps? Or if you wish us to sail around the coast then I will happily volunteer The Raven to see us safely to our destination"
Diplomacy
Know Hist
Know Local
Know Religion
"I must confess, this is my first time setting foot in Rahadoum, I know little of the place nor any of the local dialect...we normally ply the lanes of the Inner Sea"
Obo explains: “Kline was once a Pathfinder, but his philosophies conflicted with those of the Decemvirate and inspired him to leave. It was not a pleasant parting of ways, and I understand the wounds he bears are still raw; be careful not to rub them with salt.” Obo provides the adventurers with a simple sketch of Eando Kline, depicting a handsome Taldan man sporting a short beard.
Azir is the capitol of Rahadoum. The entire nation upholds the Laws of Man, which make worshipping the gods illegal. The country adopted these laws following decades of religious wars, and although this has driven away the most devout merchants, Rahadoum is nevertheless the home to many influential businesspeople.
Although often referred to as atheists, the people of Rahadoum accept that the gods exist but simply refuse to venerate them, believing that the price of worship is too great. An elite militant organization known as the Pure Legion enforces the ban on religion.
Despite the Pure Legion’s best efforts, there is nevertheless a considerable trade in smuggled religious paraphernalia. Punishment for breaking religious law ranges from a fine for possession of forbidden texts to public humiliation or deportation for proselytizing or displays of divine magic.
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"We shall avoid putting salt in any wounds, and not chafe like sand either. Speaking of philosophies I shall remember that religions aren't very welcome in the region, and that the Pure Legion take a dim view to people venerating the Gods. A sleight on personal freedoms and liberties, I believe, but I respect their reasoning - no one enjoys fanatics, look what the political fanatics turned my beloved Galt into... things have been taken too far in the pursuit of egalite"
"So Obo, are we to walk to Azir, or sail there?"
The heat of the midday sun accentuates the strange juxtaposition of salty sea air and dry, desert wind, just as the Rahadoumi caravans mingle with sailors from a dozen lands to make the markets of Azir a bustling, cosmopolitan hub of western Garund. The city’s edifices ranges from old constructions rejuvenated with elegant murals and exotic carvings to much newer buildings built with irregular angles and acute corners that combine to create an elegant mosaic of art and architecture. A vibrant soundscape overlays this visual effect, combining the sound of men haggling over baskets of dates, camels bleating in protest to their handlers’ commands, and the chorus of seagulls that soar overhead in search of an easy meal.
Several port officials come up to the dock as the ship moors. Anything to declare? Religious texts, icons? Any other objects?
Rahadoum.. Kyra says making a face as the Venture Captain speaks.
Guess I will have to keep a low profile She says hiding her holy symbol inside her tunic.
At the port she keeps mostly to her self and out of the way. Nothing to declare.
The enforcers search the adventurers, but do not uncover Kyra's hidden holy symbol. They don't go as far as to turn over bags, but instead offer a stern warning:
Welcome to Radahoum. the leader of the enforcers addressed Jaques You know the laws of Man: no worshipping, no displays of divine magic. Any who do not abide face prosecution, penalties and possible deportation. Enjoy your stay.
It's hot and dusty in Azir.
Though Shel does not know anything about the local copper trade, she does know to find the location of Jahani Jodinaj's house.
Obo’s face betrays his chagrin, and he continues. “However, in saying no, they tantalized us with a means of securing their trust and alliance. Several Riftwardens led by Jahani Jodinaj and stationed in Azir were recently preparing for a dangerous task, but they recently stopped responding to magical missives. Were we Pathfinders to investigate these Riftwardens’ disappearance, we would have performed a great service to be repaid in kind. Ah,” he notes with some pleasure as two servant carry platters of drinks and fruit into the room, “We have refreshments. May you find them to your pleasure.”
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"If they don't respond to magical missives I suspect our doorknocking might be even more in vain, might also be identifying us as well - these cities are hotbeds of gossip - I should know, I start a lot of it"
Jacques looks about for a few minutes.
Diplo (gather info)
"Copper merchant, looking to buy..."
Blackjack isn't too worried about people knowing.
Well, Jahani Jodinaj is our mission and we have to start somewhere. His house seems the logical choice. I say we pay the man a visit. Kyra says.
While Jaques asks around she does her own inquery.
Jahani's home is an attractive house, surrounded by a low wall. Upon calling at the estate, the majordomo opens up and say Welcome, travellers. My nam wis Akhina, I am the majordomo of this estate. I'm afraid the lady is indisposed, might I assist you?
The majordomo takes a very business-like stance, but does invite the pathfinders in. I have been instructed by the lady to be careful about whomI admit through the gate, I am sure you understand. I share your worries about milady.
Akhina then explains My mistress has been having a period of increasingly secretive behaviour, almost completely withdrawing from public life, and not attending meetings altogether. The only guest that Jahani entertained during this time was a Taldan copper merchant named Maroc, whom she met with several times in her study. Approximately a week ago, Jahani disappeared and has not returned. Much to consternation, I might add
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"My tongue might be too loose, but my superiors also know of this copper merchant. He is a former friend, and they are worried something might have happened to both of them. Do you know where the copper merchant is located? Or, maybe we could do a quick look at her study for a possible clue? With you accompanying us, of course. I wouldn't want you to get in any trouble with the lady."
Standing besides Shel, Kyra gives the majordomo her most reassuring and trust inspiring smile.
Kyra manages to figure out that Jahani runs something of a successful business in Azir, so connections with the copper trade are not completely out of the ordinary. The local economy is robust.
The majordomo says I suppose I can bend the rules a bit, and allow you a brief investigation of the study.
Akhina is clearly uneasy about the interest in Maroc.
When in the study, Shel immediately notes wispy paper ashes in the brazier - a burnt letter now beyond reconstruction - and an envelope labelled 'From Maroc', tucked away beneath a basket of cushion.
The inside of the envelope bears instructions for finding a particular stall in the Grand Sook. The Grand Sook is a vast marketplace constructed mostly of tents with the occasional brick structure for particularly well established merchants.
Kyra nods to Jaques following the others to the market.
The Grand Sook is a sea of canvas near the waterfront. Stalls selling fruit, bread, local products, but also furniture, tools, clothing sprawl out over a large area. Maroc's stall was indicated to be somewhere along the southern edge - upon arrival, though, the stall is empty.
Best bread in town! Nice and fresh, come get them here! A merchant shout in the next stall, only to be sounded out by the other neighbour, Freshly baked, just smell it. Truly works of art!, and then spotting Shel A loaf of bread, miss? Something else I can help you with?
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"I do like bread, but not just right now. I'll buy a loaf on my way back out. It smells delicious, though,' Shel replies as she tries to brush her way past the merchant. She looked at the note and tried to find the specific stall number that was mentioned in it.
Shel nods at the merchant and purchases a small loaf, placing it into her pack for later. "I don't suppose you can tell me where this particular stall is located, can you? The others might be more interested in purchasing your wares, if you could help us out."
Yes, we are looking a copper merchant called Maroc. His stall was supposed to be here. Do you know what happened to him or where he can find the gentleman?
Santiago, pleased to meet you. Yes, Maroc. Good businessman, he started his business here a couple of months ago. Fine feller, he sells his wares here. he isn't in today, though.
His competitor chimes in, as if competing for selling gossip as well as for selling bread This morning, he told me he'd had no luck lately, so he headed for the racetrack. 'To find the dog that has it', he told me.
Shel and Aleister uncover some local buzz from the Santiago: You are quite bold to ask about Maroc in the open. No less than an hour ago the Pure Legion came inquiring. Good luck in getting him to pay his debt before the Legion finds him.
Azir is known for its swift, sleek dogs, and breeders often congregate at a racetrack near the outskirts of town to test their hounds’ speed. Today the track has drawn a boisterous crowd of gamblers who shout bets, laugh, and occasionally curse their luck following a bad race. With so many people seeking relaxation and distraction, the track is a hotbed for gossip and news.
One of the patrons has heard of Maroc He was here. You friends of his? We whiled away some time here, said he needed money for slaves. Tried to get it here with a few good bets, but none of it came his way - his luck was terrible. He told me he'd be at the Jistka Bathhouse, if you're looking for him.
The Jistkan Baths is one of the oldest bathhouses in Azir, and local legend claims the building dates back to the long-gone Jistkan civilization that once ruled northern Rahadoum. Any such evidence of this ancient heritage have been lost to centuries of repairs, yet the well-maintained marble facade nonetheless advertises an elegant facility.
The adventures are greeted at the entrance. Welcome to the Jistkan Baths. Time to relax - all are welcome at our mixed gender facilities, a chubby-looking fellow explain, and adds courteously so long as you do no disturb the other guests. Usage of the facilities is a single gold coin for the day.
The man offers robes to those who need them, and says Can I offer you storage space for your belongings? They are most secure here. The man specifically looks at the weapons and armour the adventurers are carrying.