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You are gathered in the Grand Lodge, in Absalom, where you have joined dozens of other Pathfinders on the lawn in Skyreach's shadow. Many of the assembled agents hold fliers that appeared about the lodge the day before, hinting at a special announcement to be made here this morning. Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng emerges from the crowd followed by an assistant carrying a large stool that she sets on the grass. Dreng spryly clambers up to stand on the stool and addresses the small crowd.
“Thank you for joining me here, Pathfinders,” the milky-eyed venture-captain shouts. “Absalom has a long and illustrious history, and today we add a little more to that ongoing record. The esteemed councilor Hadrel Grayrain of Diobel recently passed away, leaving a vacancy on Absalom’s Grand Council. We’re still many months away from the annual inauguration of councilors, and with numerous acts pertaining to Diobel on the schedule, the vassal city is eager to get a new representative. In fact, with Absalom’s assistance, Diobel’s Kortos Consortium has co-bankrolled a festival spread across much of the Foreign Quarter. Ostensibly, this is an occasion to honor the deceased and welcome his replacement. Virtually everyone also sees this as a chance to advertise and earn some new business.”
Drandle Dreng clears his throat and shrugs. “Well, the Society is no exception. We’ve already chipped in some gold to help this be a success, and in doing so we’ve received numerous invitations to the more exclusive events. With our recent work in Mendev, we’ve earned considerable goodwill. This is a good opportunity to consolidate those gains by seeing and being seen by the upper crust—as well as hobnobbing
with the common people.” He chuckles and gives the crowd a smile. “All at the Society’s expense! Have a good time, keep an ear out for interesting leads, and represent the Society well!”
The venture-captain then hops off the stool and mills about the crowd, coming to you. He even slaps Henry on the back. "Ah, Henry Flaxseed, how is your family's lodge faring? You have sent us many valuable agents this past year, you know? Keep up with the good work!"
"Why, isn't that Aod the Witchchild? How was that patrol mission in Nerosyan. Not too taxing, I trust? Jorsal spoke highly of you. Don't miss out on the events scheduled, I'm certain you'll shine there."
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"Was a bloody mess, Captain, but most of us came back. Makes it a good day in my book." The Ulfen smiles up at Dreng. Though he sits relaxed on the grass, a turkey leg in one hand and a bottle of ale beside him, his appearance stands in stark contrast. He is a big man, with corded muscles and wide shoulders, a shaven head with a beard braided with small metal charms. A fur rimmed cloak drapes his shoulders over a mail shirt in a constant battle with rust. The remainder of his trappings rest on the ground beside him. There is a battered longsword, a rough club, a couple mismatched daggers, a half-dozen javelins in a large quiver, a notched wooden shield, and a worn travel pack. His one possession of any apparent quality or value rests across his knees - a large bastard sword engraved with arcane runes on the hilt.
Turning to Henry, "A Flaxseed, eh? Heard about your family's lodge. Haven't had the chance to visit myself. I'm Aod, though some call me the Witchchild."
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Oh yes, the Flaxseed Lodge is one with a number of fine agents, or so I'm led to believe! I've been there a few times myself, if I may say so! Haha! The gnome with blue hair and perhaps a few too many pounds around the waistline smiles and winks at the halfling. So, are there any, umm, charity games to be played? You know, ones that make use of cards or dice? I could always generate a little, oh, goodwill?
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"A festival eh? No shortage of ale and mead for guests of honor such as ourselves I hope." A slightly taller and seemingly better spoken spoken than the average dwarf, Thekk favors a large crossbow to his finely crafted hammer & axe; though he is no slouch in hand to hand combat when it comes to that. Still with his wild hair and endless supply of crossbow bolts one could mistake him for a well armored porcupine.
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"Aod!!! There you are!" Harris calls out. A lean long-limbed human dashes skillfully through the crowd. The motion of his body exhibits a natural athletic inclination; controlled feet placement in anticipation of the chaotic crowd ahead; arms and fingers reached out to balance on passersby but never needing them. His face is jovial, drawn white teeth upon a face used to smiling.
Harris saunters to a stop and exhales excitingly, “Phew! Thought I’d missed you lads! I tell you, that crone could not pull that cart any faster even with an extra coin. I could have run faster - and I did!” He pauses to pull out a length of lanyard and bridles it in between his lips, then presses back his loose dirty curly blond mop to tie off. Upon seeing Dreng, “Ah, Captain! Haris Hawkson - at your command."
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A tall, brooding half-elf strolls in. A bow slung over his shoulder and a greatsword on his back, he enters and glances around the room. "The name is Hawkwren. Though I don't think I've met any of you.....except Bizzle of course. He says, smiling. "We served our last mission together. But, I've heard good things of the rest of you. It appears I am good company."
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"Yes, well sometimes your instructions aren't very clear compared to what I think of rolling someone over and giving them the business." Haris says as he greets everyone.
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Drandle Dreng laughs lightly at Haris's words. "There will be none of that today, son. Or rather - your mission (should you accept it) is to enjoy the reveling here with your companions!"
"Well, this afternoon we're currently gathered at the Grand Lodge for this informal social gathering - a token of our participation in this event. We expect many visiting dignitaries from the Grand Council on that occasion, and will provide food and drinks for everyone. We'll also display several dozen relics for visitors to admire, as well as performances of our agents' many skills. This evening, there will be a commemorative service in the Docks district to honor the late Lord Grayrain. I don't expect many people to turn up, as his funeral already took place earlier this month."
"Tomorrow afternoon, the preinaugural feast will take place at a great hall in the Wise quarter. This should be semi-casual and heavily attended, though the High Council may not choose to mingle just yet. I expect we'll see them in two days on Deliberation Day, when they'll call many citizens to vouch for one candidate or other. The inauguration proper will take place on the fourth day, at noon. It should be when the High Council announces who will take the late Grayrain's seat in the Low Council. There should be plenty of opportunities to enjoy yourselves by then!"
Drandle Dreng then takes his leave, allowing you to enjoy the party in the Gardens of the Grand Lodge. You take some time to meet some pathfinders you haven't seen for ages or mingle within the higher-stationed members of Absalom's society when a letter reaches Henry's hands, brought by a young boy he knows to be Lady Gloriana Morilla's servant. The letter bears her seal, and is an invitation to join Lady Morilla in a teahouse in the Petals district shortly.
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Lady Morilla greets you in person in the Leaves of Minkai, a reknown teahouse in the Petals District where she has secured a private dining room. After a team of servers has brought in an array of snacks and drinks, she checks to ensure that nobody is eavesdropping and then addresses you.
“Nearly a year ago, I and several of my best agents began assembling a grand Army of Exploration to do battle in the Worldwound and inspire others to do the same. Admittedly, we also aimed to restore some of Taldor’s lost glory, if its leaders would show initiative by funding their own crusaders. Most of my peers continued to sit idly and mock our efforts, yet now that the army has proven victorious, these critics are racing to claim that they were key contributors.
“Several of Grand Prince Stavian’s loudest sycophants— including the boorish Lord Minovitas—are in Absalom for the dedication of ‘The Opparan Trade Commission,’ which is a new guildhall intended to host Taldan business and is scheduled to open tomorrow afternoon. One of my agents serves as an aide to Lord Minovitas, and he reports that the lord commissioned the celebrated Varisian painter Amya Illanaf to create a series of portraits to hang in the grand hall. I have since learned that these are entitled ‘The Heroes of the Worldwound.’ The one my agent chanced to see portrayed that portly hound Lord Minovitas in pristine battle regalia with his foot planted on a dead fiend, as though he had slain it himself—all while Iomedae sings his praises in the background.
“We cannot afford to let Absalom see these, for they would perpetuate the stereotype that Taldor is a land of foppish aristocrats dedicated to their own grandiose delusions. If we let this happen, we would reward the ineptitude and indolence so common in Taldor’s upper class. We would also surrender much of the credit we are due.
“I have made arrangements to sabotage the portraits, which Lord
Minovitas is keeping covered until they are unveiled to the public. If you can get to the paintings first, you might secretly deface or alter them to embarrass Lord Minovitas and send a so message to other Taldan nobles who would do the same. At present, the art waits in a warehouse in the Wise Quarter. Find a way in, do what you must, and try to avoid hurting innocents or being caught in the act; we’re trying to help Taldor, not start a civil war.”
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Thekk is only able to pick up every few words the Lady speaks since his utter decimation of the snack tray has clearly interfered with his hearing. "Destroy art so the world won't know that Taldans are foppish. Do you know which particular warehouse the paintings are in or will we need to search them all?"
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"What? Ho! Ha! A grand prank, my Lady! What do you suggest we do to embarrass the scoundrel?"
I think you get the idea.
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"Actually, I think that sheer destruction would be rather... crude, don't you think? I have faith that your imagination and your taste will take care of the rest.
"I have mustered a few things to help you in your mission. First, these three scrolls of erase, which will destroy a painting rather than alter it. I also have one scroll of fabricate and ample paints to repaint a portrait. Third, I had enough warning to commission two unframed paintings of my own."
She displays two paintings. One is a fairly realistic depiction of Lady Morilla mustering soldiers, and the other shows Henry Flaxseed battling a demon.
"Finally, I'll lend you a tiny silver figure of a raven that you can animate with the power word "glory" and have carry a message for me. Please kindly contact me with it for further instructions once the sabotage is completed. Good luck in your mission."
With these words, she leaves the room to let you devise your own plans.
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Henry will find a few of his Taldan friends in town and ask them the scuttlebutt.
Henry rejoins the group. "What? Well, according to my friends, Lord Minovitas has spent much of the past year in Absalom laying the groundwork for future business endeavors, though most of that time he has spent intoxicated while wining and dining influential citizens. Not exactly a good Taldan role-model now, what?"
He continues, "What? Now, I also asked about the warehouse where the paintings are, what? The warehouse in question helps to stock shops in the Wise Quarter and Foreign Quarter, so it contains a wide variety of goods. Ho! Prospective clients visit often to rent out space or order shipments of goods, which often includes a tour of the facility. What? Yes! So we could 'tour' the warehouse and find out where the paintings are; it will make getting to them later a bit easier if nothing else, what?"
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I discovered a few things myself there, Flaxseed! For instance, Lord Minovitas sent for a handful of Taldan guards to transport six flat crates from the warehouse, but they are yet to arrive at the guildhall. His lordship sent word that he intends to dispatch replacements soon to retrieve his possessions. How about that? Haha!
Bizzle continues after he garners the proper reaction from his first bit of gossip. And, get this! Business has been slow for the warehouse, and the owner is late in paying his employees’ wages—much to the workers’ chagrin I imagine! How's all that for a what-what? Haha!
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Hawk listens with a slight grin on his face as he thinks about what he knows of the mission at hand.
Hawkwren nods in agreement as Bizzle divests what he knows. "My contacts inform of the same. Also I learned that Minovita's is struggling to maintain an upstanding image in Absalom, a losing battle it seems. Rumors have been cwirling that the lord habitually exploits his ancestral lands...and two rumormongers have gone missing of late." Hawk rubs his hands together and he finishes. "Lastly I've heard the Minovita has been censured at least twice for ignoble conduct! This man has it coming it sounds to me."
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"He's a noble Taldan." Aod shrugs at Hawkren. "Most of them have it comin. Present company excepted. Wonder if we can use his bad behavior against him somehow."
Considering the subject a moment, he gestures at Bizzle. "That's good information. I'm thinkin we should talk to the owner of the warehouse about his business problems. Maybe discuss a new arrangement before Minovitas sends those replacements."
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You hastily tread throughout the Ascendant Court to reach the Wise quarter, where the warehouse hosting the paintings is. The busy streets of Absalom seem to calm down as the evening light casts the first shadows of early darkness.
The warehouse itself has not particular features except for the 10-foot wall encircling the building. Two guards are posted at the main entrance, visibly very bored with their task. People come and go inside frequently, almost always checked and briefly interviewed by the guards. There appears to be a back door with no guard.
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Looking at the others for confirmation, Hawkwren steps forward. "Evening gentlemen. I have a bit of a quandry and need to get into the warehouse in order to retrieve something for my employer, but see...here's the problem,...I don't have a key or any indentification papers." Hawk smiles and reaches into his belt pouch, letting the coins jingle. "Thing is, if I don't get it tonight, I'm as good as fired, as I won't have another chance to get it. Can you help a guy out?" He withdraws his hand holding 6 platinum pieces. "You know, scratch my back and I'll scratch yours? How does three sphinxes each sound?"
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Aod studies the two guards from the corner for a moment before casting a simple message spell on the group.
His voice whipsers in the ear of those in the group. "Keep em busy Bizzle. We're checkin the back door."
He then joins Haris at the side door and gets out a scroll. "You still got that wand of disguise Hawk?" He grins and casts a spell, taking on the appearance of one of the guards.