Seven years ago, Pathfinders entered Absalom’s shattered Precipice Quarter in pursuit of a ruby ring but also rescued a strange survivor. She has since grown to adulthood and exhibited a rebellious spirit connected to the ruined school where the Pathfinders found her. The woman’s family has contacted the Society, hoping that its agents can escort her back to the haunted site and unravel the Drownyard’s relentless mysteries.
Written by Alex Greenshields.
#7–05: School of Spirits (sub-tier 1-2)
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Cerim Felberry - Oracle 2
Esh Kethar - Swashbuckler/magus 2
Y'serid Elenel - Medium 5
Aiden Richter - Slayer 1/ URogue 1
Eugeni Zcona - Gunslinger (Bolt Ace) 2
Amun-Heth - Monk (Perfect Scholar) 1
Play will begin on opening day of the Gameday: August 27, 2016.
About a week ago, you all received letters instructing you to meet Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng outside the main gates of the Grand Lodge on this day at noon in formal attire.
The fall rains have come early this year, and a chill wind blows off the waters of Absalom’s harbor, bringing with it the smell of a storm somewhere far off at sea. Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng hurries down the street in a most unusual outfit for the aging Venture-Captain: some sort of blue military uniform complete with a green sash displaying a pair of ornate medals and a black umbrella. Very out of character for the usually disheveled man who spends much of his free time posing as a beggar on the streets of Absalom.
“Ah, there you all are,” he half-mutters to himself. “Is everyone here?”
Without waiting for an answer, he turns on his heels and heads off at a brisk pace, occasionally turning around to make sure everyone is keeping up.
“You’re probably wondering where I’m dragging you, eh? Well, it will take a bit to explain." Dreng takes a deep breath before he goes on.
"Seven years ago I sent young agents much like yourselves on a preliminary exploration of the necropolis below the Drownyard in the Precipice Quarter. The Drownyard is the name that was given to the old Tri-Towers School, once home to some of Absalom’s wealthiest progeny. It was destroyed in the great earthquake of 4698 ar, and we thought that all of the children, teachers, and staff had perished.”
“But let me back up a bit. Eight years ago, the Society discovered an ancient necropolis under the Drownyard. It dates back to the third century ar, and if you know anything about Absalom’s history, you’ll know that we know almost nothing about those early years. It took me almost an entire year of negotiating with the parents of the children who died in the Tri-Towers Yard to convince them to grant us access to the site, and when we did, what did we find? A lot of spooky stuff: undead, haunts, and some nasty bugs. But we also found something completely unexpected: a survivor. A little slip of a girl named Junia Dacilane somehow survived in a death-like state for 10 years. The only thing that kept her alive was a ring of sustenance that she had found among the crypts. Junia’s mother, Lady Miranda Dacilane, was of course beside herself when we pulled her living daughter from the ruins and she vowed to not only give the Society full access to the property, but to personally underwrite our archaeological efforts there. Soon thereafter I set up an archaeological dig at the Drownyard, and we’ve been pulling out fascinating fragments from Absalom’s early history ever since. Every year I visit Lady Dacilane to renew our contract to maintain the dig, but this year it seems that she wants us to jump through an additional hoop. She wants us, or rather you, to escort her daughter back to the Drownyard. It seems that Junia’s become a bit obsessed with her alma mater, and since the Precipice Quarter is no place for pampered young noblewomen, she needs an escort. Think you can manage that?”
Without giving you a chance to interrupt him, he quickly adds, “Oh, and don’t forget to call the Drownyard the Tri-Towers Yard while we’re at Dacilane Manor. No one who lost children in the earthquake likes to be reminded of that tragedy… even the ones who got their child back.”
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Strolling up the gates of the Grand lodge at the appointed hour is a small, pale skinned Gnome with dark blue hair and a well appointed but obviously creased suit, a matching top hat sits on his head.
On one hand, rather oddly sits a patchwork hand puppet, also complete with its own hat, the Gnome does not seem to be paying attention to the Venture-Captain's letter but the Puppet is held out, bobbing it's 'head' as if paying full attention.
After he is finished, the Puppet is brought closer to the Gnome's ear as if whispering conspiratorially, when the Gnome finally speaks it his high pitched but sounds distant.
"Ooh GraveyardsandCrypts, the society doestakeusto thebestofplaces!" he says in utter seriousness, at times speaking so quick that the words seem to form together.
"So CaptainDreng, or is it Drandle? Has this place been explored by the archaeologists? Is there anything you want us to look for in there?"
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A stout dwarf is sitting in a corner, barely rising his grey eyes from his mug of ale. He's clad in a worn out full plate, witnessing the battles of its host. A big and long warhammer is hung in his back. A strange person sits next to him, not touching his own mug. His pale skin suggest he doesn't belong to this world. Not entirely. He seems to be clad in a breastplate made in the same white-green matter.
Turning towards the party, the dwarf downs his pint and burps loudly. He then looks at his companion with a black eye. "Ya could hold it, Tog!" he says with his teeth grinding.
The phantom bows, as if to apologize, but looks at the dwarf fiercely.
The dwarf looks to each member of the squad and grins with a crooked smile.
"Name's Papy Shayn. Knight serving... Well... Just a knight."
Pointing at the big phantom beside him, he spits on the ground. "And that's Tog."
"Dreng! Drink with me!" shouts the dwarf.
The phantom bows low and displays some unnatural manners for an ectoplasmic creature. Looking at the party, he quickly avoids being side by side with Papy and goes towards Dreng.
"As my esteemed colleagues said, what else do we know about lady Junia Dacilane? Did she recover from the stay down there?"
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A tall elf stands among the group, a well maintained but old travelers cloak over shined scale mail, and a light blue tunic. On his back a large elven curved blade and longbow sit in scabbards and slings. Next to him, a lightly armored horse paws at the ground, looking for vegetation to keep its attention and hunger.
"It sounds like an important and solemn task. I am sure this poor young woman would like some closure to that horrific experience. I am more than happy to lend my aid to this."
Looking to the others, he says "Greetings agents. It is good to be working with you. I am Felaeran Irithyl, you may call me Irithyl. I am a knight of the Blue Rose, as such I would like to humbly request that any intelligent foes we come across, we allow the choice of surrender. I am happy to stand in front for this cause, as it is a burden that I place upon your shoulders."
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A dusky-skinned man with aquiline Osirian features speaks. "I think I heard the story of the Tri-Towers expedition once, though everyone called it the Drownyard. I think it would be fascinating to see what's become of the place."
Turning to Felaeran he says "I wonder how many living intelligent foes we'll encounter in such a place."
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The puppet on the gnomes hands studies each of the gathered Pathfinders for a moment before again going back to 'whisper' to Cerin who snaps out of their reverie and speaks once again quite quickly in places.
"MynameisCerin, Cerin Felberry, I can tell the future! I think we will meet the walking dead! Icanmakethemmyslave, so don't worry!"
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A black and blue bird with a yellow beak swoops through the group. Remarkably, it seems to speak. "Gerald, I told you were we late! You had to eat that last honeycake, did you? Hurry up with the things!" The bird lands on a nearby rock and seems to bow.
"Good day, everyone! I am Javon. Don't let appearances fool you, I'm a Pathfinder of note....I just can't seem to remember what happened to me and how I came to be like this. I..." He trails off, peering at Dreng. "What the devil are you wearing, there? You know what those..." He shakes his head. "Of course you do."
"Now, we're go see the Tri-Tower ruins, yes? Lots of restless undead and vermin near there. Most people think the area is cursed now, but I remember it before the earthquake. Not only was the Tri-Tower Academy there, but also Arboretum Arcanis, a shoppe for rare plants from all over the Inner Sea."
Javon flies up to perch on a tree branch. "Ah, how forgetful of me. Here comes my porter, Gerald. Gerald, introduce yourself to the fine Pathfinders if you would!"
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A half-orc comes up to the group. He's clad in armor and carrying a greatsword on his back along with a backpack. He sighs at the bird's words and shakes his head. "My name is Grax, not Gerald! I am the son of Dray." He pauses and rolls his eyes. "But I am Javon's guardian...and porter."
He crosses his arms, looking at the bird. Then he glances around and nods to the group.
"By my whiskers, do you lot have no inkling of what the word formal means? Bah! There's nothing for it now, hurry along, no time for libations! We don't want to be late on top of under-dressed." The aging V.C. blanches as he is addressed first by a puppet and then by a phantom. "Uh... Oh dear, maybe you two should make yourselves scarce while we speak with the Lady Dacilane. We do want her to trust you all to watch over her daughter... without scarring her further, mind."
"So CaptainDreng, or is it Drandle? Has this place been explored by the archaeologists? Is there anything you want us to look for in there?"
"The area has indeed been explored. Your primary mission is safe guarding the young lady, but if you should happen to find anything interesting, do your duty. Explore, report, cooperate!"
"Babysitting duty, huh? What do we know of the girl's capabilities?"
"Very little... I suspect they don't amount to much though. She has taken to carrying a blade, much to mother's dismay, but I don't think she's had any martial training with it."
"As my esteemed colleagues said, what else do we know about lady Junia Dacilane? Did she recover from the stay down there?"
"That's debatable, I suppose. She is not the same as she used to be, but that's really to be expected when someone suffers through such an emotionally stressful trauma. She lost virtually everyone she knew and woke from her coma into essentially a new world, a decade removed from the one she had known. I can't even fathom how such things might effect a young girl. Still she is healthy, with a sharp mind and a strong will. I think she is doing well, considering. But I am not sure her mother agrees." He shrugs and continues leading you all.
After about ten minutes of swift walking through the rain, you all arrive at your destination. Dacilane Manor is an imposing four-story townhouse of heavy masonry with a parapet roof that is festooned with numerous leering, demonic gargoyles. After knocking on the door, a middle-aged halfling woman in a large apron answers it. “Please come in. My lady will join you momentarily in the drawing room.” Dreng takes a moment to give you all a stern reminder. "Best behavior now."
The interior of Dacilane Manor is just as imposing as the outside. A wide foyer with a grand staircase leads to the second floor, while open double-doors lead into the drawing room. Heavy black draperies cover all the windows, shrouding the manor in shadows. All of the furniture in the common areas is oversized, expensive, and gothic, made of dark-stained mahogany wood.
Lady Dacilane enters a few moments after you all and Dreng have gathered in the sitting room. She is a tall, stern-looking, yet attractive Chelaxian woman with sharp features, a fair complexion, and black hair accented with gray and white. She is dressed in a well-made, floor-length black gown streaked through with crimson. A plain looking silver pentagram necklace is her only jewelry. Dreng immediately jumps up to greet her, bowing and kissing her hand in a formal fashion. He then quickly introduces you all before launching into a prepared speech about the importance of Lady Dacilane’s ongoing support of the Society’s activities and the many important artifacts they have been able to recover from the Tri-Towers Yard necropolis.
Lady Dacilane listens politely, making a few pro-forma inquiries into several details about the management of the site before getting to the heart of the negotiation and addressing the your party directly. “As I am sure Master Dreng has already informed you, I have a particular request of the Pathfinder Society this year. My daughter Junia has recently celebrated her eighteenth birthday, but she maintains a certain obsession with the traumatic events that befell her at the Tri-Towers Yard so many years ago. I have stopped her from sneaking out of the manor and visiting that place several times, and I feel that her past is keeping her from fully embracing her future. I would ask that you accompany her to the gods-forsaken Precipice Quarter and let her see her fill of the decay and misery. Perhaps those sights will cure her of her unnatural obsessions.”
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Seeing the finery of the place, Cerin tries to smooth the creases in his suit in vain and brushes his unruly hair from his eyes somewhat self consciously. The puppet does not leave the gnome's hands but, seeing the Noble lady seems to have a fragile psyche, the hand puppet goes into his pocket.
Just before the lady entrrs the room, Cerin pipes up from his seat. "She is outside". With his best attempt at a re-assuring smile, the Gnome waits for Drandle to finish his speech.
"Nottoworry! We are well trained and agents with experience in delicate matters I am sure! We shall make itourutmostduty to keep your daughter safe!"
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Felaeran is sure to stand straight, and to make sure his equipment is in order as the group meets with the lady of the manor. Listening intently to her request, he is sure to make a short bow, and speaks with confidence, "My Lady, we will strive to make sure no harm befalls the young Lady."
Looking around the room, he continues, "Do you have any suspicion as to why she is so keen on returning to the place of her tragedy?"
The Lady Dacilane raises a dubious eyebrow at the strange gnome and the shifty gunslinger and then turns a cold glare onto Dreng. "Well, know this honorable Pathfinders. If you fail to protect my daughter, you can rely upon my much appreciated support being withdrawn! I do not know why she insists upon revisiting that terrible place, but it's clear she will not be dissuaded. Better she be accompanied by capable agents she trusts than she sneaks out and goes there alone. Junia’s experiences during and after the earthquake were terrible, and they have left lasting mental scars. Despite my efforts and those of some of Absalom’s best healers, I have been unable to truly help her. Nevertheless, it is time for her to put her childhood experiences behind her and face her adult responsibilities.”
She turns to the halfling servant and says, "Bettina, please let Junia know we are ready for her." But she has hardly turned toward the stairs when a young woman bounds down the stairs, clearly having been listening in.
Lady Dacilane’s daughter has her mother’s height, dark hair, and fine facial features, but that’s where the similarities end. Unlike her mother’s carefully coiffed hair, Junia’s is short and practical, and she carries herself with a confident and unladylike swagger. She is dressed in grey breeches, knee-high leather boots, a white cotton shirt, and an azure blue riding coat with tails with a golden eagle pin on the lapel.
Beneath her coat, it is clear that she is wearing a mithral chain shirt.
Upon arriving before you, Junia clicks her heels in a military manner and greets her mother with a mischievous grin. Lady Dacilane immediately turns bright red with embarrassment and reprimands her daughter. “Junia! How could you appear in such a ridiculous outfit in front of our guests?" But the young lady seems only amused by her mother's outrage and soon she throws up her hands in frustration and stalks out of the room.
With a flourishing bow, Junia introduces herself brightly. “Hello! Call me J., like the letter.” And she shakes everyone’s hand. She scans your faces as if looking for something or someone in particular and seems just a bit disappointed but she politely rearranges her expression soon enough. "So, is everyone ready? I'm eager to be away from here."
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Grax is impressed by J's uniform. "Quite the uniform there, J. Very sharp." You can't tell if the half-orc is joking or not. Grax nods at the girl's eagerness.
"Nothing like diving in. But if you're coming with us, you have to listen. There could be dangerous things there. We'll all be safe if we work together." He smiles at her. "My name is Grax."
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Cerin beams at the girl, immediately taking a liking to her devil may care attitude and rebellious streak evident against her mother. Checking her armour the Gnome gives a whistle and holds out his hand, the one with the puppet on, to shake in greeting.
"Wellcome! MynameisCerin! Grax is right, weneedtostaytogether or we will be dead!"
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Papy nods at Junia, eyeing her with a smirk.
"Have you any guts, DJAY?"
Tog rolls his ectoplasmic eyes and shrugs. He comes nearer and says politely with a bow.
"Do not mind the dwarf, milady. It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard of what happened to you. We are ready to go as well."
After some moments and the small talks finished, the phantom will ask to Junia.
"Dear J., how do you feel about going down there again? We will be there to help you, if you need to. However, it isn't easy to go back, I guess..."
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"Greetings Lady J." Felaeran says, giving a short bow, and then looking to the others.
"If there is nothing else, perhaps we should be getting on our way? While I do not believe time is entirely pressing in this matter, it appears the Lady Dacilane would like this matter wrapped up quickly."
Gathering the reigns of the horse, he waits to depart with the others, adjusting his cloak.
Dreng clears his throat as you make ready to leave the manor. "Well, you all seem to be getting acquainted and you have an interesting journey ahead of you. I am needed back at the Grand Lodge so I will entrust young Junia's safety to you." Before he leaves, he hands over a large, iron key to the you all, "This will open the wrought iron gates to the Tri-Towers Yard. Take care, for though the necropolis below has been cleared of undead, the partially restored surface structure still holds a dangerous haunt. Try to stay away from there," he mutters, “we’ve tried to eliminate it several times, but it keep coming back. If you do need to go in there, take a look in the supply closet, you may find it useful.” And with that, he takes off at a swift speed, not waiting for any more questions.
J. smiles at Grax's compliment on her clothing. "Thank you, it's just a little something I threw together." She adds a little conspiratorial wink that would likely send her mother into another fit if she had been present to see it.
She nods in a businesslike manner at the instructions to listen and stay close. Then she picks up a backpack from a stool in the corner and pulls out a kukri, which she sheathes at her hip. She then straps on the backpack and looks expectantly at you all. “Well, shall we go? I’m ready when you are.”
She is clearly surprised by Toggeli's appearance, but his polite manner quickly sets her at ease. "Oh! Well, I know it won't be a pleasant visit. But then it's not meant to be. I feel past ready, though. Thank you." She pauses a moment, chewing her bottom lip as if deciding to speak and finally seems to decide upon it. "So are you a... uh... ghost, and a Pathfinder? How exactly does that work... if you don't mind my asking?"
There are two main ways of reaching the Precipice Quarter from the Ivy District. The most direct route is through the mercantile Coins district and then along the edge of the Merchant’s Quarter. The second is through the Foreign Quarter and then through the Docks.
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The bird flaps out of the pouch and circles around before landing back on Grax's shoulder. "Ah, much better. A pleasure to meet you, my dear. I heard you had quite the tumultuous adventure years ago. Fancy a return, eh? Well, nothing like the Pathfinders to do a bit of exploration! Allow me to introduce myself. I am Javon, Pathfinder extraordinaire. Please forgive my appearance, I seem to have gotten into an odd situation. But Gerald here is my porter. I believe you have already met."
Javon glances ahead and then looks back at Grax. "Gerald, where are you going? The Docks? No, no. The best way is through the market, even though it may be crowded today. Market Day, you know. But much too dangerous to go along the docks."
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Cerin grins at the girl as they move out of the Mansion, the Gnome doffing his battered top hat to the noble lady of the manse on their way out. Stood outside the mansion he listens intently to, what the Gnome believes, wise words from their companion turned Raven.
"IwouldsayJavonisright! Let us go to the markets! Keep your hands on your purses!"
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Papy seems annoyed by the turns of events. He comes closer to the young woman and gives a push in Tog's shoulder.
"Well... long story short, I killed him and I shouldn't have. So he stays to annoy me. Is all." he says with a loud voice.
Surprised by the bird's appearance, he points at it.
"A ghost and a bird that speaks. What is the most unsettling? I wonder. I'd prefer if stones were talking..." he half-mutters to himself, displaying a sad face.
Das Toggeli bows at Junia and backs away a little.
"My lady, pardon me if my looks unsettle you. I am but a humble servant of Pharasma. She judged my time was not to come and send me back for a mission at my killer's side."
Papy rolls his eyes and sighs but the phantom continues.
"I'd say we go through the coins, if you're ok with that. We would attract too much attention in the streets of the foreign quarters and the docks."
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"I would agree with the others. The market may have some pinch pockets, but I am sure it is still safer than the foreign quarter." Felaeran says, nodding to the others.
"We can also pick up supplies on the way if necessary. Two birds with one stone as it were." The elf says, grinning, and winking at Javon.
You set off for the Coins. Once out of her home, J. breathes a sigh of relief and visibly relaxes. She looks delighted to meet Javon and laughs brightly at Cerin's quick manner of speech. "You're definitely an interesting group of Pathfinders. Have you been featured in any of the Chronicles? I have quite a collection, I'll have to look you up."
But as Paby makes his confession, J.'s face falls into a sad and solemn expression. "You... you killed him? Really? That must make it difficult to... to travel together. Do you regret what happened?" Before Paby can answer, she looks to Tog, her eyes shining. "Could you ever forgive him?" She almost whispers. Perhaps she simply has a sensitive constitution regarding killing and death, given her past, but as she waits for his answer, holding her breath, you suspect that this means much to her.
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The gruff dwarf looks away and seems to blush at the young lady's words.
"I repented. Torag didn't answer my prayers but Pharasma did. I... I should confess that I am lost about this but... Tog is by my side now. Dead. But he's fighting along with me. We work out the issues... step by step. I once was a knight. Now, I am but a haunted dwarf. He's my curse."
Looking grim, Papy lets Tog handle the conversation further.
Tog shakes his with a sad smile.
"Forgiveness is a long and difficult path, my lady. Though I believe it is what we are called for. Vengeance is blind and its pursuit is vane. If I haven't forgiven him for good right now, I sure began the path to forgiveness."
Looking at the woman, Toggeli frowns his ectoplasmic brow.
"Forgive my bluntness, my lady. But I think I have sensed that the topic of death is... delicate. This particular topic means a lot to you, doesn't it?"
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As a devotee of the path of self-enlightenment, Amun-Heth is always fascinated by the different paths each person seems to take in moving towards the person they are to become. Few follow as deliberate a path as his own. Some are arcs, but most are full of stops and starts, regressions and epicycles.
Papy Shayne and his odd spirit companion seem more aware than most non-Irorans of the path they walk together, but Amun-Heth wonders if young Julia... J, as she styles herself...isn't also aware that she is standing at a moment of great change in her own path. He listens with interest to her conversation with the dwarf and the ghost.
J. nods and gives Toggeli a watery smile. "It does... I suppose it could do little else given that nearly everyone I ever knew is now dead. Even the time I knew is a decade past... sometimes I feel like a ghost myself. Haunting my childhood home, watching my mother as she seems to age faster and faster... waiting for me to grow-up." She barks a sardonic laugh and dabs her welling eyes roughly on her cuffs. "I guess I just miss my friends." She says, trying to master herself and quell her emotions.
After a deep breath she speaks with a steadier, deeper voice, "But I am still here. Yes, and that's a good thing." She smiles to reassure you all that she is ready to go on.
"So, does anyone have any shopping to do while we are in the Coins?"
She converses congenially with anyone who feels inclined to converse as you make your way through the districts. She seems quite interested in tales of far-flung lands and interesting people and adventures. Before long, you have found your way to the Coins district.
If it can be bought, it’s for sale in the Coins. Money is the only authority here, and you get what you pay for. The Coins is the most crowded and noisy of all Absalom’s districts, and the shouting and haggling does not quiet much at night. Taverns never close, the open markets light up with torches and spells of illumination alike, and public Time Callers wander about shouting out every hour on the hour. Even when not in a store or the bazaar, a visitor can see buying and selling on every street corner and in every restaurant. It’s been joked that wives in the Coins bargain the price of their husbands’ dinners, and for at least some families it’s true.
As you cut through an alley near the Grand Bazaar, a small gang of young men dressed in the latest Qadiran inspired fashions (turbans, flowing silk scarves, heavy eye shadow, and impressive jewelry) point J. out to each other and begin moving toward her through the crowd. They seem to be egging each other on as they begin to taunt her.
"Hey, little Eaglet! You come to the Coins to find slaves to 'liberate'? Cowardly little abolitionist! Your kind owes my father money for your crimes. Maybe we'll take it out of your hide! Put your skinny yellow behind on the sale block!"
J. juts her chin out bravely, but you can see the beginnings of fear in her eyes as they close in on her.
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"Yes, it is an interesting thing, time. We can wish it forward so much, and then we find that all we want is to go back. In my case, I don't remember what happened to make me like this. People I seem to remember don't recognize me, and I can't help them recall anything." Javon seems to look at J with a smile.
When the young men call out to them, Javon takes off from Grax's shoulder. "Gerald! Trouble ahead."