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"So yeah, I was supposed to be on this ship, the *HICK* Baritone Doxie or some such, loaded with half-orcs, minding this emissary from the Mordant Spire for like months on end. A real chance to get away from it all and bust some heads at the same time you know? When you-know-who comes in and says she'd heard about it wanted to know if she could come too. So I told 'er half-orcs only, besides we were all full up. Anyhow she talks me into another round or two and before you know it I wake up, the ship's sailed off without me, and her and her new feather duster ain't nowhere to be seen. I tell ya. I hear their up north now escorting goblins from Irrisen or some such. Here I was all set to hang out with Gary--you know, the little guy. Shove him around a bit--he's such a little pushover 'til you get him mad, then he's a slightly bigger pushover, but still a pushover. Probably all for the best though. Sea travel leaves me feeling a bit green. Speaking of which." Zarah barrels toward the swinging doors.
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Kareem Mansur is a tall, handsome man of Kelish origin, hailing from the grand empire of Qadira's capital Katheer. His well-groomed facial hair—moustache and beard alike—is a sign of precision and perfection. He wears an armor given to him as a gift by an eastern salesman, a four-mirror armor he wishes will do him well in the encounters to come, and protect from fatal wounds. That does not, however, mean he isn't planning on purchasing in a much more protective piece of full plate armor once he has enough investments to cover the costs.
He is one of Abadar's faithful, something that might strike odd considering his country of birth; Abadar is depicted as a Taldan human, and as such not that popular in the nation of Qadira. It is one of the reasons he left his home country to seek the Pathfinder Society; his allegiance to Abadar was too often criticized and put under pressure. Now part of the Society though, he can perform his duties as the upholder of law wherever they go, and conduct some trade on their journeys from one end of the world to another.
His armaments consist of basic weapons seen on almost any soldier; a longsword, a spear, and a dagger. Curiously though, those weapons seem clean and unused. His heavy steel shield—stylized with rings of gold, brown, and white with a key in the center—sports many spikes, is very worn and some of the spikes are chipped.
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The middle aged man was at the library of the Grand Lodge, studying some new arcane sources. Despite his long white hair, he is not enough old, but not young too, apparently have anything between 40 to 45 years old.
A cane lies on his lap and his hand never leaves it. He has an introspective glance, as if he always be thinking in something very important, maybe it occurs because of the age.
After hours over the books, Ezren decides to breath some pure air and walks through the courtyard of the Grand Lodge to appreciate the magnificent Skyreach.
A good time passed from my last exploration. When will I have a new opportunity?, he was thinking while walking.
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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 venture-captain 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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Zarah notes the Venture-Captain's small hands and smell and snorts. Yeah. I like practical jokes too, but most of the time they end in a trip to the healer. She smiles in recollection.
Zarah's stands strong and pretty tall for a woman. She's able to see over about half the men she encounters and is strong enough to knock the bigger ones down to her level. A great two-handed sword with an extra-wide blade is tied at her back.
"Visiting a tavern was on my to-do list tonight, besides a tavern ain't truly wounded until I visit." She laughs and cuffs the old timer hard on the back .
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Kareem is not affected by the rain; or at least he doesn't pay much attention to his clothes getting drenched. "Quite a place you chose for a mission briefing. Couldn't you have sent us a letter? I hear the post office in Absalom runs smoothly," he remarks to the venture-captain, "what does this parcel contain, exactly? I'm not about to do drugtrafficking or other shady business on the behalf of others."
Kareem takes a good look at the other comrades he is assignment to accompany. "Well met, or in this drizzle, just met. I'm Kareem Mansur," he states bluntly. He takes a longer look at the tall half-orc woman, but his eyes don't show condescension. "You must be Zarah, then? Zarah Tavern-Breaker? Say, where does one earn such a family name? Does tavern wounding run your family?"
Eventually he takes the assignment and leaves towards the tavern. "Disguises, pah, I know Devon Callister is a dishonorable thief, but I didn't expect the chiefs of this organization to be thiefs. Heh, that rhymed," Kareem mumbles under his breath, which a keen ear could easily hear.
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Big man carrying a long three handed sword on his back, walks up and meets the party. He is around 6' and by the look of him 230 lbs, his hair is kept in tight dread locks tied together at the back of his head. Under his cloak there is a rustling as a small gold and silver hedgehog pops its head out takes a look around running from one side of the big mans massive shoulders to the other and then moves back into the cloak.
"well Its best we dont waste any time then lets head off"
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Kareem takes a good look at the other comrades he is assignment to accompany. "Well met, or in this drizzle, just met. I'm Kareem Mansur," he states bluntly. He takes a longer look at the tall half-orc woman, but his eyes don't show condescension. "You must be Zarah, then? Zarah Tavern-Breaker? Say, where does one earn such a family name? Does tavern wounding run your family?"
"Dunno know. I don't recall having been formally introduced to 'em."
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"Orphan? My condolences," Kareem adds quickly to Zarah, "unless you prefer your past that way. But as that other half-orc stated, we better not stay in the rain till we start popping mushrooms."
"And nice meeting you...?" Kareem begins, looking at the new half-orc addition, stopping his sentence, waiting for the man to fill in the blank.
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Vires turns to the pompus looking human "Ah yes apologies I am Vires sangre and this" The gold/silver Hedgehog pops it head out and give a small salute before tucking it's self away "Is tocino all greeted? yes formality done with no? well then let's be on our way and get out of the rain for a bit before we have to go back onto it. Evil is more likely to act in the dark but it is known to take hateful action in the light as well. Is there anything else we should know Captain Dreng?" if he dose not answer Vires will turn and head to the tavern
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"I... am against drugs," Kareem replies, unsure what Zarah's intentions were, "or at least drugs that are considered contraband in the nation in question. But pesh? Legally sold in numerous cities, so not a problem. I'm not a user, though."
"Once we all get to a warm tavern we can discuss skills and tactics whatnot. You're right, Vires, we should go." Kareem eagerly waits for the venture-captain to reply before bidding farewell.
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Dreng looks at Kareem and smiles slightly as he gestures to himself before speaking, “Sometimes you need more than magic to remain unseen. This disguise serves its purpose and lets me pry secrets from loose lips better than any magical enchantment. Right now, I’m following up on a group operating out of this district that I believe to be associated with the Onyx Alliance… it’s a bit of a long story, but sufficed to say, this disguise is quite important to my investigation. Now, before you judge, despite my current attire, I’m still a man of taste. The parcel is actually a special vintage of wine from the cellar of the Wounded Wisp. I’ve been sampling their finer wines in descending order of bottling. I dare not disappear from my current role in this district, but I also would appreciate some comfort items. After all, I doubt anyone would judge a supposed beggar sipping from a bottle of wine. As for heading to the tavern, it would be best to go now, as to not be completely soaked. Once finished, you can find me around the area, as I plan to stay for a couple more hours.”
With a slight spring to his step, the venture captain then makes his way off, turning down a nearby alleyway, disappearing from sight.
the generosity of Society agents who spend coin at the establishment.
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"A vintage wine," Kareem says absentmindedly once captain Dreng has left, looking down, baffled, "I sure hope this is just some ruse to keep information away from us. Maybe it's something so important they can't trust us with the true intention of the mission."
The qadiran man shakes his head and grunts begrudgingly, starting to head towards the Wounded Wisp.
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While they walk to the Wounded Wisp, Ezren speaks to them as a professor to his students:
Well, my friends. Before meet Mr. Dreng there, I was at the library and coincidentally I was reading an interesting volume of the Pathfinder Chronicles, that I want to share with you. There was a lot of 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 Wounded Wisp 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.
And this is the most interesting: 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.
I believe that we are gonna have a good time there.
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Ezren gave Zarah a look of reproach after his commentary.
Although some say that we learn with the mistakes of the past and this changes the way that rule the entire world, it is a true lie. Indeed, the mistakes of the past repeats all the time, and here is the answer to why we have to know history - knowing how the problems were solved in the past, we will be capable to solve them now, in the present.
The wizard looks brilliant after his speech.
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Though he has thus far been distracted by the pouring rain, the dwarf finally speaks up. He is muscular and broad, even by dwarf standards. He wears battered armor, and carries an exotic-looking weapon, a 10-foot-long, heavy metal chain weighted at one end by a round ball of solid iron about the size of a large fist.
"I wouldn't mind a drink!" he bellows a bit too loudly.
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"You read that straight from a book, Ezren?" Kareem sneers, "then again you are the party wizard, so I guess that's your thing."
"And I too would be grumpy, walking in this dismal rain."
Kareem is properly startled when Grimnir speaks up; Kareem had assumed the dwarf to be a beggar hanging around the adventuring party to beg for coins, not having though about there being yet another agent joining the group. "Sheesh! Dwarf! Who the heck are you? Are you a pathfinder?" he asks in an insisting tone.
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"I wouldn't mind a drink!"
Per gods... whispers Ezren as he makes a facepalm.
"You read that straight from a book, Ezren?" Kareem sneers, "then again you are the party wizard, so I guess that's your thing."
"And I too would be grumpy, walking in this dismal rain."
Yes, I'm a wizard, Kareem, he says with a smile in his face, and I agree with you about the rain, let's walk fast to the Wisp, thus we leave the rain behind.
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Walking through the wet streets of Absalom's Foreign Quarter, the group finds the old, warped building. From the facade, made up of dark discolored wood, is mounted a sign labeled as "Wounded Wisp", hanging above the enterance. Windows stained brown, with heavy bars covering them, it seems that a light still shines into the street.
When entering the building, the acrid smell of flyleaf, tobacco, and alcohol assails the group. 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.
The Wisp, while not at full capacity, seems to be bustling with work, even at this hour. A lone teen boy seems to be serving the tables, while a woman pours drinks at the bar. Of the patrons, there seem to be a few who seem to stand out. Surrounded by a few people, is a halfling woman, flailing her arms and jumping about her seat as she told a tale from an adventure of hers months ago. At one end of the bar, sits a man, taking in the sights of the room while chatting to a few people sitting near him. At the other end of the bar, were two half-orcs, boasting about great deeds they have done, followed by a clap of their mugs and cheers. Sitting alone in a quieter corner of the room, sits an elderly man, sipping from a cordial while reading a tome, trying to keep to himself.
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Kareem walks to the counter straight away and taps the tabletop. "Heryn Gale? We were told you have a parcel for Drandle Dreng. He's... preoccupied, and can't fetch it himself." Saying that out loud annoys Kareem; he had high hopes for contributing to the Society's cause, and not run errands around town.
"And a glass of wine, if you please. One of the finer types," he adds, sensing they are going to spend a lot more time in this 'historical' locale.
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Grimnir trudges along with the other Pathfinders, though he seems a bit perturbed at Kareem.
"'Course I be a Pathfinder, same as any o' ye!" he mutters loudly. "I've even ordered me Wayfinder, though it 'asn't been completed jus' yet."
Having entered the tavern, the dwarf promptly orders a fine dwarven ale and makes himself at home at one of the tables. Then downing it quickly, the paladin orders up a second. Seeing the others asking Heryn, he nods and stares at his drink.
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Perhaps Kareem feels sorry for Ezren to be lined up with a group of thugs and strongarms, who value little the knowledge he possesses.
"Zarah, you better hold your urges," Kareem starts, being the ordinary spoilsport, "some savage spirit may guide you to destroy taverns, maybe a deep grudge, but there can be a way to vent that energy into something productive. Just wait till we find some illegitimate fellow who is just waiting for justice to be served on the spot."
"Before that, enjoy the discount this place gives to all pathfinders." Kareem breaks a smile to the half-orcs and turns back to Heryn Gale.
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Heryn Gale smiles at Kareem before grabbing a bottle from a rack under the bar. Grabbing a corkscrew and working it into the bottle, the proprieter starts talking, "So your here for Master Dreng's package eh? Mind wait'n a bit as we start to clean things up for the night?" With a slight jerk and a loud pop, the cork is removed from the bottle, and the contents poured into a nearby wine glass for Kareem. "Here ya go sugar, it's our finest this late at night. Jus' don't drink all of it." With a wink, the woman whistles loudly, calling the teen over to her. After a few whispers into the boy's ear, Heryn starts to wipe down the bar while shouting. "It's closing time, so I want your drunk selves to get out! You got twenty minutes before I get the twins to pay their tab by escort'n ya out! Except for whoever is with this fine gentleman here, they can stay!"
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Kareem eyes at Vires, rolling his eyes. "Or maybe this parcel is pathfinders-only style of business," he says to the half-orc, sipping his wine a bit. It's a tad bitter for his tastes, but shows respect and doesn't flinch at all. Kareem casually turns around to lean against the counter both elbows resting on the it.
"I'm interested to see who stay."
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The half orc twins greet Zarah with a cheer before drinking from their tankards. "It seems that there are kin here Shrade!" the larger, but not by much half orc calls out. Nodding, and calling Zarah over, "Aye, we be the Boartusk Twins! Me brudda is Garl and I am Shrade. We are the bestest Pathsearchers but don't know why we don't get jobs a lot." Slapping his sister on the back of the head, Garl then speaks as Shrade snarls slightly, "So, you be Pathsearchers too? Have any stories of great power and honor in battle?"
Heryn sighs and shakes her head as the twins get started with Zarah and talks to Kareem, "I just need to clean up. Give me a few moments, and gather your friends." Whistling at the teen this time, she holds up three fingers and motions for him to come over and cover for her at the bar. "I'll not be long, just make sure the twins don't go making a mess or offending Mister Kaleel again."
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Kareem looks back and forth at Grimnir, who's depleting the tavern's beer supply, Ezren, who seems to suffer from a headache, and Zarah, who is maybe trying to get a going on with the half-orc twins. Kareem turns back to Heryn. "Colleagues, Heryn, not friends," he corrects her, sipping from his wine again, "so do not feel the need to rush."
Kareem picks his glass and walks up to the end of the bar over to the man who had been taking in the sights of the room. Since he had been chatting with other people, Kareem deduces he might be a bit more social. "You are a pathfinder as well?" Kareem asks, sitting down across the table, "I'm Kareem Mansur, an initiate. Who might you be?"