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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 Path nders 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. Ianareth 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. 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. Walking briskly with in nite poise and a clenched jaw, Zarta Dralneen is the first to disappear through the doors.
As promised, Marcos Farabellus has posted a list of half-a-dozen teams to lead these rst sanctioned expeditions, and one of these includes the names 'Lance', 'Adrianna Na'lin', 'Mogall Dark', 'Jalthas', and 'Anaristiel Teladren'.
There's a rush of pathfinders jostling to read the names, but eventually the group manages to find out they are on it, and make their way to Farabellus' office.
As you enter, Zarta Dralneen stands across the Master of Swords’ desk, her back turned to you. She momentarily acknowledges the newcomers before continuing to lecture Farabellus. “Beware the good intentions of a Chelish diplomat. Who controls whom behind closed doors in Cheliax, and who are we serving by heeding the call of Abrogail’s
infernal masters?”
Marcos strokes his beard for a moment, buying time to phrase his reply. “Caution is warranted, but you shouldn’t let past follies 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, but we can start to mend soured relations.” Marcos turns to the recently arrived agents. “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, again.”
Zarta straightens her back and glares imperiously down at her counterpart. “Folly? 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; I remind you that devils work quickly to strip hope from one’s senses.”
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. 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. I’m sending you to explore the site, learn what you can about what happened there, and bring back any information about the Davians.
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.”
Until approximately three years ago, Paracountess Zarta Dralneen served as the Chelish liaison to the Pathfinder Society—the role that Ianareth Alazario now fills.
the city.
House Davian, led by Duchess Lannavia Davian, challenged Thrune for control of Cheliax at the Battle of a Hundred Kings, a struggle that devastated Corentyn near the end of the civil war. The house’s holdings included much of the nation’s west coast.
Cheliax’s state religion reveres Asmodeus. Though other faiths are not forbidden, none may out the nation’s laws, challenge 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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Mogall comments "House Davian, led by Duchess Lannavia Davian, challenged Thrune for control of Cheliax at the Battle of a Hundred Kings, a struggle that devastated Corentyn near the end of the civil war. The house’s holdings included much of the nation’s west coast. "
Taking a breath he continues "What's not as well known is that Thrune retaliated by utterly crushing the Davians. Numerous revisions of Cheliax’s official history have downplayed the Davians’ role during the civil war, such that many don’t even remember the Davian name, much less that the great house almost defeated Thrune. "
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Adrianna is not able to add anything from her training and recollections, merely nodding at the parts of Mogall's story that she can corroborate.
"What of any artifacts or treasures we discover? It seems the proper course to follow would be to fully document them and turn them over to the Chelaxians, yes?" the young monk inquires.
While in Cheliax, you are bound to the laws of the land, and you'd be best advised to follow them. Cheliax is a strict country, if nothing else, so you're best off following the instructions of local authority. Farabellus explains.
----
On the morning of the second day, an aide of Marcus Farabellus delivers a note (). When the party arrives at the Sea Sylph, the agent Cassius Redwold is already tending to the gear supplied by the Pathfinder Society, readying it for the journey in the hold.
The supplies are mostly mundane archeological equipment including shovels, mattocks, brushes of different sizes, rope, sieves, and numerous crates and packing straw with which to safely store artifacts during the return trip. There’s also a small amount of gold for import and export fees, as well as to buy riding horses in Corentyn.
The journey from Absalom to Corentyn is uneventful, with favorable winds and only one stop at the port of Merab. Captain Zaerim of the Sea Sylph states that the short waylay is an excuse to hug the southern shores of the Inner Sea and avoid Chelish naval patrols.
A few days later, the first red Chelish flags start appearing into view, and at dusk the Sea Sylph docks in 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.
Ensure all goods are neatly arranged captain Zerim says, and make sure your logs are accurate and complete. You should know that Corentyn impounds undeclared goods. And you better not pull any tricks, contraband worth more than a gold piece can already earn you - and me - 20 lashes.
The harbormaster and his deputies keep an attentive eye on their port and meet any incoming ships before those aboard have a chance to disembark. While the party waits for the ship to dock, they see a small riot is threatening to spill over from the nearby Open Slave Market. City guards bide their time, waiting for reinforcements from the Hellknights. A few of the armor-clad enforcers are looking not at the crowd, but to the harbor waters.
A halfling customs agent and his four human deputies climb aboard the Sea Sylph within moments of docking. The careful and meticulous halfling wears a strained smile as he interacts with the captain - who identifies himself as the captain, and the pathfinder as "passengers from Absalom" - and then turns to the party: What is the origin of your journey? Why are you here? What is you business in Corentyn? Have you ever been convicted of a crime? he fires off question after terse question, and occasionally coverses with his underlings. He adds List of goods to declare?
He seems to let his guard down with his underlings, conversing in a far less terse manner, telling them of with You guys move your lazy bums before I let Hector spank you again.
The Chelaxians immediately take the Sea Sylph’s manifest and begin a thorough search, making notations in their ledgers as they go.
The search seems somewhat frantic: the deputies are barely looking at the crates' contents.
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The half elven knight looks every part the budding 'dashing cavalier', right down to the chiselled jaw and charming smile with just-a-hint of swagger and challenge to it. His milk coffee skin is well cared for, and his grooming is immaculate.
He wears a fine breastplate of a slightly unusual design, vented for travelling in the heat, and embossed with roses - which on closer inspection reveal very sharp thorns wrought of cold iron. Similarly a well made longsword hangs at his side, also wrought of cold iron. A large steel shield bears the device of a rose. A holy symbol of Shelyn hangs from a silver chain. Slightly out of place, is a slightly worn and torn sandy coloured keffiyeh around his neck that looks like it has seen a fair amount of use.
He stayed mostly quiet in the briefing, simply availing himself of a comfortable chair and then sprawling in it as though he were a large house cat that felt it owned the room - he stayed focused on business, but inevitably his darkly handsome gaze began locking upon the attractive Chelaxians, his amber eyes smouldering their best come hither looks...
***
Perception
Sense Motive
Lance seems a bit distracted, his eyes cast in the direction of some of the labouring dock workers, as he plucks a very fine tune on his mandolin. The Halfling asking questions snaps him out of his thoughts, "You forgot to begin with my name. Lance, the wandering Rose of Kyonin" his loose shirt just catching in the breeze to show off his athletic physique. "I'm here to see the sights of this fine town, perhaps sample its delights. Being both a talented knight and a skilled musician leaves me at a loose end as to which may be of most use to bring some colour and panache to this town - are their any tournaments scheduled? - oh yes, no I haven't been convicted of any crimes, that is true - for all of those lovers thrust upon me their virtue so willingly. Contraband? I'm not sure what passes for it here - you can enlighten me, or perhaps we can go below decks and we can explore and search..." he smiles "Oh and what's with the disturbance over there?"
Diplomacy
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Before the ship docks, Mogall ask the captain what would be consider contraband.
Mogall watches the halfing interact with his guards thinking the security check is more for show, when it comes to the Wayang's turn he answers concisely "Travailing from Absalom to Emberhold at the invitation of the House of Thrune. Passing through Corentyn along the way hopefully we have time to take in the local culture along our way. I have never been convicted of anything."
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Adrianna stands with the group, her head held high, sizing up the guards without openly challenging them. Her look was more like a woodsman inspecting trees to determine which were hardwoods and which were not. When the inspector looked at her, she merely replies, "I travel with them. I am without accusation or conviction of crimes. What you see is all I own."
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Good. Law-abiding foreigners. Let's keep it that way. No drugs? No poisons? No holy symbols of chaotic deities, hmm? the halfling says, then turns to Lance again No large weapons? You are aware of the moratorium on large weapon imports? I advise you leave that pointing to the longsword on the ship, along with any other heavy arms you may have. Our Hellknight patrols will ensure thiefs get punished, severely. ()
I'm now obliged to inform you that casting any arcane spells more powerful than cantrips within 5 miles of the Esoterium carries the penalty of having the offender’s spellbook burned or their hands broken, unless they’re registered members of the Esoterium. Temporary licenses are available after registration ()
All divine spellcasters are to register at the Harbourmaster's office. Occultists should register at both offices, with their new-fangled nonsense.
You will be allowed to offload you shipped goods, your allocated time slot is tomorrow morning he continues his staccato informing.
Right, the man says while his aid taps a whip welcome to the Empire of Cheliax. If you behave, we'll let you leave again.
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"Gods" Lance looks non-plussed at the thought "I'll be forced to strap on a shortsword if its light blades only, oh the shame" he looks to his companions slightly crestfallen.
Once the man is no longer in earshot...
"My only drug was a Calistrian Priestess I was just shacked up with for a three week journey across the Osirian desert, a blur of pleasure it was. Terrible withdrawals afterwards I confess" he leaves his longsword and lance with the cargo, but changes into his heavier armour instead of his usual breastplate. He drops his symbol of Shelyn on the pile.
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Lance finishes packing his gear.
"I suppose Flash will need to stay with the boat, doubt there will be much riding around in town"
Lance, now dressed in his heavier armour, wanders down and starts trying to listen in on what the nature of the disturbance is, and if someone has a map of the town so he can locate the places they need to visit.
Gather Info
Finding the way around town isn't hard, and once ashore, the harbormaster takes the time to give directions and provide a crude map. The Museum of History is in the northern part of town. On the way up, Lance tries to discern the nature of the disturbance, but finds the locals tight-lipped.
Broad marble steps, barely dulled with age and showing only the tiniest of cracks lead to the solid, reinforced double doors of Corentyn’s Museum of History. The building stands in stark contrast to the surrounding structures, most of which are small, cramped, and crumbling. Two city guards stand at the intersection nearby, watching the tradesfolk, fishermen, vintners, and others who make High Quarter their home.
Zefiro Ballinger is in a wing of the building, where he watches the pathfinder's arrival, seemingly somewhat nervously. Welcome to the museum of history. What brings you here?
He seems worried about the corner of the building, where just moment earlier two Cheliax guards were standing, now having vacated their posts.
What? The guards? I have nothing to do with the guards. Who are you? Why are you asking these questions? the man says, on the brink of panicking.
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Mogall will register with the Esoterium to get a temporary license for 50 gp. Before going to the museum.
Arriving at the museum:
Mogall tries to calm the man, "Just friendly visitors looking to tour the museum. I you have time maybe you could show us around?" The Wayang takes out his wayfinder to check it before putting it back away.
Put that trinket away! the man says, increasingly agitated, you are endangering my position here in Corentyn, which already delicate enough. Do you have any idea? My family my friends? You are endangering them all!
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Lance looks around carefully "Well then I assume you are Zefiro, and if you don't control those guards then they are supposed to be watching you and watching this place - so them stepping away is for a reason, and that reason is to not see what is probably coming eh? We about to be attacked or something Zefiro? Guards are guards, they don't wander off - only spies and lookouts do that"
The man calms down, if only ever so slightly, and then starts talking It's about my friend. She is - if nothing else - a valuable historical asset. I fear for her, I think she is about to be 'disappeared' by the order of the Rack. That's why the guards are here, they must be aware somehow that my friend has been spreading unrevised historical information, on the past of Cheliax.
I could provide my assistance if you can help my friend. She is vital to the preservation of Corentyn’s history.
There's a local business called the Fox' Den. Tell the doorkeeper that Zefiro sent you. Just ensure that she is safe, that the Hellknights haven't found her yet, or assist her if they've found her already.
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Lance looks a little concerned, a frown sitting uncomfortably on his normally happy face.
"We will help your friend, but consider your assistance both bought and paid for when we return. You could have simply told me there was a fair maiden in trouble and I would have volunteered, but to make your support contingent on my preparedness to help, and only if I deliver what you want to your satisfaction...not how the stories go" Lance dismisses the man with a rather acidic and high handed tone.
He ignores the fellow and turns to the party...
"I suppose we might want to think about that, possibly tackling Hellknights or their agents. As much as I find them stifling and unreasonable, they are the lawful body of this land, and if we go in swinging it may constitute poor diplomatic relations on our behalf... I'd wager they all know who we are and we have probably been followed from the ship or have people marking our passage. a bit of a fracas could be smoothed over, but an ocean of bodies might just be an issue - do we all have non-lethal options if forced to defend ourselves?"
Lance stops by the weapon shop on the way back to buy a sap. Whilst the Hellknights may be the lawful agent of the lands, Lance clearly doesn't see a problem with giving them a bloody nose should the need arise.
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As the Pathfinders are about to leave Zefiro and go about their business, a shy voice comes from inside a grim-looking armor suit that suddenly appeared out of nowhere, echoing as though the armor was hollow.
"Sorry I'm late! The harbor officer has been an utter pain, and wanted to make sure that I didn't hide any subversive material inside the armor. Then I had to register to both the temple and the Esoterium, because they don't know what to make of me, and the... strange things this armor does now and then. But here I am! Jalthas of the Sovereign Court, at your service." the voice from inside says, panting for breath.
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Anaristiel nods. "Of course, we will do what we can to help your friend. However, as my comrade has stated, we will expect you to fulfill your end of this bargain when we return."
She, too, having left her glaive on the ship and seeing the value in not leaving a trail of bodies in the city, buys a sap at the earliest opportunity.
The smell of raw fish, stale sweat, and old booze permeates this section of the West Drenches. Broken pathways are slick with mud where they aren’t simply flooded. Small wooden buildings are built around narrow canals brimming with dark water that flows swiftly out to sea. Sounds of a busy business district quiet intermittently, at which time the groaning boats and boisterous sailors in the nearby port are just loud enough to hear.
The Fox Den is a modest-sized building with boarded windows and a badly faded sign that depicts a fox hiding behind its own bushy tail. There’s a small stained glass window set into the front door with a patch of fogged white glass.
What's this? Strangers? Why should I let you in? afemale voice says from the other side of the glass.
Shh... not so loud... who are you anyway? I haven't seen you before. Are you new to Corentyr? How did you arrive?
Ah, I see. Quickly then, come in.
Inside, a cheery fire warms the cool sea air, and nine young children of varied ages sit around a slender, middle-aged elven woman with chestnut colored hair and a simple, yet elegant rust- colored dress. Her eyes are closed, and she commands the attention of the children with a tale about Rius Galdaeon, a kind Chelish architect and paladin of Shelyn, whose allegiances aligned with Chelish loyalists when Thrune began to take control.
Rius cried out "no! Cheliax does not need the devils to help them, we have achieved so much without them. He stormed out, to the Esoterium Lodge. The powerful devil Baraxial was waiting for him there, being sent to aid the Lodge. The battle was titanic, shaking the very foundations of Aroden's Arch. They say great pieces of it crumbled into the sea when Baraxial and Rius battled. Each landed blow could be felt throughout the city! In the end, Baraxial was defeated, but he dragged Rius with him to hell. It was then and there that I decided to flee Corentyn.
The woman opens her eyes and offers the adventurers a smile, friendly but strained. Welcome to Fox' Den, she says my name is Mireille
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Lance locks gaze on the woman, a gentle smile crossing his elven features, he flicks a loose lock of hair from his forehead as his expression turns slightly coquettish toward the elven storyteller.
"And Rius was right to feel that way, after all Shelyn teaches us that love is always the answer, and is the greatest force - how many gallant knights have been driven to face down dragons and rescue princesses in the name of love? How many of the beautiful statues gracing Magnimar were masterfully crafted by skilled artisans once Shelyn had blessed their dreams with inspiration? Being mean and nasty like a Devil might seem a short route to power, but that is only a fleeting illusion - and when the castles of hatred eventually crumble to dust, it will be a rose garden that replaces them"
Lance seems to take kindly to the children. He draws his mandolin and begins playing, seeking to entertain the children with popular childrens tunes...
Perform (Stringed)
"Zefiro sent us, he had some concerns" Lance gently asides, so as not to concern the children.