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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Looking at the others in the rain past the edges of my cloak, OK, looks like we are tavern hopping or something like that. Sounds like an excellent excuse to go and try new home brews. Who is going? I know if I am going to get soaked in the rain, its best to know a good beer awaits me at the end of the walk.
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Dressed in browns and greens, a cloaked and hooded elvish man frowns at the rather wet state of affairs he finds himself in. A long and curved sword is sheathed across his back, along with quivers and a bow. Several smaller blades hang upon his belt and trousers.
The somber swordsman coldly observes the beggar before he reveals himself to the agents.
Is that... yes, indeed it is. Humans. Best to pretend to be surprised, I suppose.
Rolling his eyes, Bregolas poorly feigns surprise at the venture-captain's revelation. He listens intently, though his stern visage drifts towards the nagaji a moment.
Satsu? Hmpf, no... there are subtle differences with this one. I suppose all his people may look alike.
Nodding at last as the venture-captain concludes his foolish antics, Bregolas takes his task quite seriously.
The elf nods in agreement with a speedy trip to evade the wet rain. As they make their way over to the Wisp, he addresses the nagaji with a rather blunt, and rather offensive, query, "Tell me: do all of your kind look so alike?"
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Shocked by the bluntness of the question at the Nagaji and looking over to the Elf.
Ha!, I se you have a sense of humor my tapered ear friend, but I am sure that one could say them same for you in reverse roles
Looking to Tsu
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Tsukai's lidless eyes stare intently at the elf as he asks his question and then lets out a hissing chuckle as he hears Arklore's statement.
To untrained eye, maybe no. To Nagaji, each are different as grass from tree. Hope those ears hear better than eyes see.
It is good to meet one who speaks mind. I am Tsukai. Tsukai gives the elf a toothy grin and then turns back to Arklore and speaks in low gutteral tones and hisses.
Tsukai pauses a moment as if in contemplation
Tsukai lets out another hiss as he rubs his belly
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A beautiful half-elf with long dark hair and blue-tinted leather armor listens to their instructions. She seems excited to be in the rain and wears no hood, but instead lifts her exposed face to the rain.
"This doesn't seem very hard," she says. "Perhaps it will leave us more time to come back into the rain," she adds.
She smiles brightly at the new group members.
"Oh, I'm Auryn, by the way. Auryn Maelstrom. I am not really one for combat, but have a way with summoned creatures...I hope this will be fun!"
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An oddly dressed human male is among the Pathfinders waiting in the rain. He has a red cloak drawn over his head, but you can see that he is wearing leather goggles with purple tinted lenses underneath.
He nods towards Bregolas and Auryn with a grunt of recognition, and extends his hand towards Arklore and Tsukai.
"My name is Regnel. I'm one of the librarians in the archives when I'm not running strange missions in the rain," he says with a bit of smile on his face.
"I do have to wonder how many taverns claim to be the birthplace of the Pathfinder Society, though... I could have sworn that the Pig's Paunch makes the same claim to fame... I suppose that the founders of our society must have liked to drink a lot."
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Laughing at Tsukai's comments before paying close attention to Auryn and Regnel as they introduce themselves.
Well it is absolutely splendid to meet all of you! I am Arklore, though most folks just call me Ark. Blasted multi-syllable names are so tedious in combat though so dignified in more formal settings.
Looking about Hmm, I do think we have one more that was supposed to join us. Well, until he shows, I suppose I should say I have a talent for just making magic happen, although when pressed I can use a blade.
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Peering at Arklore with furrowed brows, the elf replies rather matter-of-factly. "No. Not at all."
But did the swordsman mean to reject the premise that all elves look alike? Or does he mean to say he has no sense of humor? Regardless, both evidently seem to be the case...
Observing Tsukai with a grim visage, Bregolas responds to his comment about ears and eyes with stoic pride, "I am elven kin, you know. I hope you can see better than the previous creature I adventured with." Rather dryly, he sets the bar very low, "He was blind."
Wondering about all the hissing and guttural speech between the two, "Is that supposed to mean something?"
Shaking his head, he turns to Auryn. He speaks to her in a very fluid and enchanting tongue, "آه لو فقط عن سيتحدث قزم السليم. الخطاب المشترك هو ممل جدا، ولكن هذا المخلوق كلام لا يزال تماما أغلظ، يجب أن أقول."
To Regnel, he responds with a sigh, "Humans. You can never get a straight story out of them. Especially when inebriated."
Remembering whatever semblance of manners he might have, "Oh, yes. Bregolas. Bregolas Fierceleaf, at your service." He takes a slight and formal bow.
The shoddy looking venture-captain looks at the gathered motley crew and shakes his head. "Well, if you are expecting someone, I do believe they had other pressing matters. Best be off to the Wisp, I really would like that parcel sooner rather than later." Dreng smiles at the party and gives his head a subtle nod to urge them along.
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Walking in the middle of the group, hood of my cloak pulled over my head, thank for the extra heavy coat of lanolin on my cloak and boots keeping the wet on the outside, one hand resting on the pommel of the blade, the outline of the ash stocked crossbow on my back, safely stored underneath the cloak.
Nothing like a bit of liquid sunshine! Far better than the frozen kind.
Using the crude map provided by Venture-Captain Dreng combined with some basic knowledge of Absalom, the party is able to locate the sought tavern, the Wounded Wisp. Built from dark, discolored wood, the exterior of the Wounded Wisp is the image of an iconic dive bar. Stained and barred windows obscure direct vision into the establishment, though ruddy yellow light bleeds from a window in the front hall. The only distinguishing feature on the Wisp’s exterior is a thick wooden sign hanging from above the bar’s entrance. A brass ring fitted onto the sign
anchors a lantern that hangs there during the evening hours.
The smell of smoke and spilled ale assails the senses in this wide-open area. 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.
As the group enters the bar, the see the tavern well attended this evening. The party makes its way through the crowd, they cannot help but overhear several of the patrons speaking about a person named Reinhart of Kanabres, a Mendevian crusader recently arrived from the North to undertake the test of the Starstone.
The agents spy one woman currently working the bar. She dutifully attends the various patrons at the bar while simultaneously filling drinks to intermittently bring to the patrons at the tavern's tables.
Tsukai and Bregolas do not notice anything out of the ordinary, but recognize several of the bar patrons as possible fellow pathfinder. One patron in particular, a lively young female halfling holding court at one of the tables, seems very familiar.
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Walking in from the rain, Regnel pulls back his hood. He gets a few odd looks as the patrons take in his new goggles. He certainly doesn't seem to notice (or perhaps not care) about the strange looks he's getting.
Regnel smiles and nods towards Janira, but his attention is focused on the talk of the crusader who plans to attempt the test of the Starstone.
"Certainly must think a lot of himself..." Regnel says to no one in particular.
After exchanging pleasantries with his fellow Pathfinders, Regnel approaches the bar and attempts to get the attention of the woman behind the counter.
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Bregolas's eyes widen at the loud excitement of the summoness. "The entire bar, nay the entire city, need not know about our mission dear woman..."
Nodding to the halfling, the soldier gets down to business and approaches the counter with Regnel. In a hushed voice, he wryly remarks to the goggled human, "How many pathfinders does it take to retrieve a package for a venture-captain a mere few blocks away? Something tells me this is no ordinary package."
Bregolas and Auryn approach the halfling woman who they indeed identify as their former guide and mentor, Janira Gavix. She is holding court at a table with a mixed group of five younger persons who appear to be fellow agents. Janira is in the middle of a captivating story, telling the young agents of legendary Pathfinder Agent Durvin Gest's thrilling recovery of the fables Lens of Galundari. Upon seeing and being greeted by Auryn and Bregolas, she smiles wide, hops off her chair and returns Auryn's hug. She peers up at Bregolas and thinks twice about embracing the sometimes aloof elven swordsman, but offers him a warming smile anyways. "Bregolas! Auryn! So nice to see you again. What brings you in this old dive?" She listens to Auryn's indication of their purpose and nods once as Bregolas admonishes the summoner. "Good thought Bregolas, I am not sure what this mission is, but best keep it to yourselves. You never know who might be listening in." Janira offers a seat to the pair and continues her story.
Meanwhile, Rengel focus on the mission at hand and does his best to catch the bartender's attention. The haggard barkeep spies Rengel, and motions for him to wait a moment as she runs an armful of ale tankards to a nearby table. With surprising grace, she maneuvers around patrons and furniture to glide to the area of the bar where Rengel stands. The keep smiles charmingly to battle host. "Hey there sugar, what can I get for ya?"
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Smiling as I walk in behind Tsukai my eyes catch Rengel with bartender.
splendid of you catch the attention of the lovely bartender Ren! Miss, I would love a pint of either your famous porter or stout plus a drink for my traveling friends to include my draconian looking friend by the fire. . As I place the order I look, mod or point to each member of the party for the bartender to clearly know whom I items to buy a drink for.
within reason of course-I can't afford any of that rare dwarven malt whiskey or whatever it is you have locked up.
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Bregolas's attention is already on to the bar as Janira offers a seat. He politely refuses by bringing his forearm to his chest and nodding, an old-fashioned elvish gesture of farewell. He's sure to hear tell of her adventures from the half-human woman later.
At the bar, the elf's brow furrows as Arklore orders a round for the group. Apparently unaccustomed to the social graces of tavern-going folk, he queries the sorcerer before ordering, "Do you mean to... pay, for our drinks?"
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Looking at Bregolas a bit stumped for a moment, before returning a natural smile with a laugh. Why yes my good elf, I mean I am buying you a drink of your choice at this fine drinking establishment. I would not recommend the wines, as I doubt this establishment will have anything like the more complex eleven wines you are no doubt accustomed to, but the meads, beer, and even spirits I am sure will surely still please the senses or offer you the chance to try something new.
As his own stout is presented to him, he takes a taste and smiles. The stouts here are most excellent, and it clearly shows that the beer here is made the old fashioned way with real priming sugar and not some fancy star spangled gnomish carbonation that just kills the softer flavor of fine ales and beers.
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The elf, still slightly wary, shrugs as if to say, What the heck.
"A stout ale for me as well, barkeep." Bregolas carefully observes his drink before grasping it. Raising it to his nose, he sniffs it like a detective would sniff something in search of clues at a crime scene. Finally, he takes a careful sip.
He describes the qualities he tastes very matter-of-factly. "Frothy, a hint of sweetness, yet quite bitter."
He takes another sip. "Not bad."
The bartender's eyes flicker in concern for a just an instant before reverting to her busy state. She fills Arklore's order, then another patron's order on the other side of the bar, before finall returning to Rengel. "I'd be happy to fella, but I need to wait until my shifts done. As you can see, I'm the only one here and let me tell ya, you certainly do not want to see what a bar full of angry sobering Pathfinders looks like. My replacement will be here in a bit. In the meantime, feel free to mingle. You never know what kind of interesting folks you will find here." She gives Rengel a wink and spins back to her duties, slinging drinks for demanding drinkers.
The bar is alive and vibrant, and the group spies several interesting people milling about the bar.
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Regnel thanks Heryn, and then turns to observe the other patrons in the room. He notices the older fellow in the northeast corner of the bar, and smiles in his direction.
"It's a much finer evening in here than outside in the rain, that's for sure." Regnel tries to make small talk, and then introduces himself. "My name is Regnel. I'm a librarian for the Pathfinder Society."
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"Oh bother." The ranger sighs at the thought of engaging in small talk. He never could quite understand the need to speak about nothing of consequence.
Yet something in that keep's wink might, perhaps, suggest there is more to ascertain in this room than meets the eye. Something relevant to our mission, perhaps?
Bregolas resigns himself to make the attempt, at least. He observes the patrons of the establishment. Noticing the two orcs, he reminisces on past memories of battles against raiding orc parties in his homeland of Kyonin. He'd slain a dozen himself one night...
Perhaps it would be best not to speak with them.
His gaze continuing on, he takes an interest in the wizened older gentleman. A wizard, perhaps? Though human, perhaps he would be well worth speaking to... but Regnel approaches him instead. He sighs.
Alas, I am sure Regnel will produce an adequate report for our mission.
His gaze then locks onto the man with the moustache at the far end of the bar. Uncertain of what to make of him, Bregolas decides to do his best.
Approaching the man with drink in hand, Bregolas awkwardly stares at him for a bit too long for comfort. At last, he thinks of something to say to break the ice, so to speak. A subject matter someone once suggested speaking about to make pleasant conversation.
"So. The weather. It is wet."
As the man responds, Bregolas's eyes seem to scrutinize him and his appearance.
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Looking over to my right, I notice the more seasoned gentleman wearing spectacles and decide that a place over in the corner, where I can observe most of the things that go on in a place such as this.
With my water repellent hood of my cloak pulled down, I notice a couple of the empty seats.
Good evening, would you mind if I pulled up a seat and stayed out of the mainstream of events? If after the briefest of pauses I do not hear a negative response, I take my seat and smile once again, breaking the ice with some small talk. {b} You know the stouts here are not too bad, but anything else you might recommend that I sample? [/b]
Looking both at the gentleman and then around.
As Heryn hustles to finish her shift, the party spreads out to mingle.
Arklore and Rengel approach a kindly old man seated in the corner of the bar. The elder gent perks up upon their approach. "Why Hello there! You two are new. Please, sit sit. Yargos Gil at your service. Now, before you start sharing secret handshakes, I am most decidedly not a fellow, though I often find myself embroiled in the Society in one way or another. No, I am merely a historian at heart. Tell me my young friends, are either of you familiar with the recent skirmish near Tymon?"
Tsukai bravely barges into a table shared by two half orcs well into their cups. The two orcish men look at each other, Tsukai can see that they look nearly identical, then back and Tsukai. They both let out an uproarious laugh. "We'll don't that beat all Garl! Here I thought they were bending the rules letting us drink here, seems they will let any old monster in this joint!" The other half orc barks out a loud guffaw. "Good one, Shrade! What's next? Maybe we can throw down a few spirits with an owl bear!" The two orcbloods slap a hand on Tsukai's shoulder and sit him in a chair at their table. "Have a drink my scaly friend!" Tell us what a sort of business a dragon has at the Wisp."
Auryn continues to reminisce with Janira.
Bregolas, somewhat outside of his comfort zone, approaches the mysterious stranger in the back of the bar. He awkwardly, but confidently, hails the man. The man of obvious Kelish descent quirks a brow at the elf. He smiles wide and lets out a deep throaty laugh. He speaks to Bregolas in a thick Kelishite accent. "This is why I come here. I never know who I will meet next. Today it is a son of Soylorin. Hello my friend. My name is Arim bin Kaleel. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"
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Yargos, it is good to meet you; Arklore M. Flavii and I am heartened to know that there is another fan of history at this table besides myself.
I take a sip of the stout before resuming. I have to be honest, I have not heard of a fight and skirmish near Tymon, but I am quite interested in hearing about it; doubly so if it involves a beautiful woman or two!
Setting my pint stein down, I look towards Yargos, eager to hear his story, before looking over to see what he is drinking, raising my hand to the barmaid.
Miss, a drink for my friend hear and I am sure all three of us here could use a plate of some of your appetizers or fine food fare.
Yargos eyes widen and a smile crosses his face as Rengel inquires about the skirmish. He licks his lips and leans into Rengel as Arklore tries to arrange food and drink for the table. "The Skirmish? Well I am certain it is a result of your typical River Kingdoms nonsense, but I heard some hobgoblins were involved, which is a bit intriguing...oh I should give you some background here...you see, the River Kingdoms were established years ago by various bandit lords..." The wizened old man launches into a lengthy dissertation of the history of the River Kingdoms and drones on for some time about the nature of conflicts in that region. Rengel can tell that the man is quite knowledgeable but also perhaps a bit obsessive.
Rengel can recall the general history of the River Kingdoms on his own, knowing that they are a collection of loose governed nations that frequently change hands and rulers.
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Bregolas is slightly taken aback at the Kelishite man's laughter. But he perseveres in this trial of small talk. He slightly nods to the man, raising his forearm to his chest in an old fashioned elvish greeting. "Bregolas Fierceleaf. At your service."
Still standing, the elf in turn raises a brow. "Soylorin?"
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Tsukai's unblinking gaze passes over each of the orcs as they speak. Well met Garl and Shrade. I am Tsukai Tsukai makes his best attempt at a smile without it appearing as if he is contemplating an orcish snack
What brings me here? They say you can lead seperpent to water but can't make him drink....because he wants ale instead!! Tsukai lets out a hissing chuckle I am here for drink and good story. I wait for Society. They say come and I come. They say wait and I wait. Right now I wait and keep throat wet. Hear anything good? You both look strong and there must be good stories of battle to share? Tsukai joins the orcs at the table and offers to buy the next round.
Arim smiles wide to Bregolas. "Well met Bregolas. Please pardon my pronunciation, as I am sure I butcher your beautiful language, but I refer to your kind's whispered land across the stars. But, do not mind me, I am sure I know nothing of what I speak and passing rumors is so uncouth. Please, sit." Bregloas and Arim chat for a bit, and Bregolas finds the man rather affable. Arim tells Bregolas he is a fellow agent, that he runs a his own shop in the Coins District called Kaleel's Curiosities, and explains his balanced approach to serving the Society. As their conversation comes to a close, he smiles to the elf and states "Remember Bregolas, a Pathfinder should stand on his own two feet, but be able to lean on a fellow agent when needed." He lets out a small laugh, inclines his head and wishes Bregolas well on his journey.
The orcish twins welcome Auryn to their table with a wink and swift pour of a glass of ale. When Tsukai asks about their battles, the easily launch into several entertaining tales of their work on the battlefield. Auryn and Tsukai find the orcbloods friendly and fun to converse with. They tip their mugs and indicate they hope to see the pair again in the tavern.
As the party mingles, Rengel notices Heryn's replacement scurry in. The new barkkep lifts her long skirt to her ankles as she quickly darts through the crowd to relieve the beleaguered tender. Heryn scowls mockingly at her replacement who returns her look with a apologetic shrug and a smile. Heryn sighs and throws a towel over her shoulder. She catches Rengel's eye and motions for him to join her. Rengel quickly gathers his troop and meets up with her. She nods "Drendle sure can pick a time for these things. He knows how busy we are at this hour. Come on, I'll show you were to get his precious vintage."
Heryn leads the group into the cellar down a narrow stairwell into an even narrower storeroom. She opens the door to the next chamber, a very damaged room with a large fissure down the center of the room. A rickety wood plank rests across the odd crack. "Oh, do watch out for the cracks down here. They will give you a nasty fall. I plan on replacing that old thing with something more sturdy, when I get the chance. In any event, the wine cellar is over there." Heryn waves and walks back up the stairs.
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Tsukai sniffs and tastes the air with a quick outstretched tongue Hope they do not keep food here. Makes me glad I did not order the stew.
Tsukai allows his eyes to adjust to the change in light and then examines the room Plank looks unsafe. I will jump over cracks and help those who want to cross on other side
Tsukai examines the room
If he feels he can make it safely across then he will leap to the other side
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A bit surprised she is leaving, I beg the question to her, Madam, leaving so soon? Perhaps you should show us to the cellar and point things out, so that we do not mistakenly damage anything or misplace anything that we should not?
As I ask the question I study her face intently, not holistically trusting her and wondering why she would blindly trust a bunch of strangers in her wine cellar, of no doubt, rare vintages.
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"Sovyrian," the elf dryly corrects Arim before taking his seat. When the young human finishes advises his elvish man who Bregolas figures to be perhaps one fourth his own age at best, he opts to nonetheless politely nod in gratitude.
A bit of wisdom does manage to seep into the swordsman's thick skull nonetheless. After all, though he could teach the young Kelish man far more than the reverse, Bregolas has little knowledge of Kelish realms. Indeed, he is relatively new to the Society, having spent most of his life as a soldier and scout for the Elvish kingdom of Kyonin. The tales he could tell...
Alas, there has been enough talk for one conversation. He takes his leave of Arim with a polite gesture. Polishing off his remaining stout, he leaves the mug atop the bar for Heryn's replacement to take.
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Down in the cellar, Bregolas as well is surprised by the halfling's sudden departure. He casts a wary eye down the cellar: Is it truly that much of an effort to walk with us another dozen paces or so? How far-reaching can this wine cellar be, after all?
He awaits her answer to Arklore before venturing further down the cellar path. While he does, he nears the edge of the crack and peers down into the crack with his Elvish vision.