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Incense hangs heavy in the air in a meeting chamber of Manaket’s Swordmeet Lodge, where Venture-Captain Obo stands before a low table. “I won’t mince words,” he declares as he strokes his graying beard. “This mission is of vital importance to the Pathfinders’ success in the Worldwound. The Society has many powerful spellcasters, yet few can compare to the Riftwardens in feats of demon-banishing. That Abyssal scar spawns many demons, and the aid of capable abjurers would be a great boon in our march to Jormurdun, the newly discovered Sky Citadel . When our leaders requested the Riftwardens’ aid, we were denied; too many of their wizards are already committed to Mendev’s cause.”
Obo’s face betrays his chagrin, and he continues. “However, in saying no, they tantalized us with a means of securing their trust and alliance. Several Riftwardens led by Jahani Jodinaj and stationed in Azir were recently preparing for a dangerous task, but they recently stopped responding to magical missives. Were we Pathfinders to investigate these Riftwardens’ disappearance, we would have performed a great service to be repaid in kind. Ah,” he notes with some pleasure as two servant carry platters of drinks and fruit into the room, “We have refreshments. May you find them to your pleasure.”
As he begins peeling an orange, he frowns and adds, “We have one potential ally in this investigation, though I doubt he will leap at the chance to help. A contact of mine recently spotted the former Pathfinder Eando Kline in the sook of Azir. He has donned the guise of a copper merchant and likely prefers a degree of anonymity, but he is also a very well-connected man; if anyone knows what ills have befallen the Riftwardens, it is he. Should he not wish to speak, tell him, ‘Sasha Antif-Arah sends her regards—healthy and alive from Andoran.’
“Beyond that, be careful, Pathfinders. The sands of Rahadoum are unforgiving, and the Pure Legion is even less so.”
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An athletic and shapely tiefling listens to the instructions. Her tail shifts from side to side, like that of a cat.
She stretches luxuriously before addressing the others.
"Sounds right up my alley. I'm Saarai Shae," she says. "I'm an investigator and a relic thief. I'll be dealing with scouting, traps, and other stealthy operations. I'm well-equipped to handle a variety of problems,"[/b] she adds.
Almost as an afterthought, she says:
"What is the story with this 'Sasha Antif-Arah sends her regards'? Maybe knowing about that will help us understand how to convince Eando Kline to help..."
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A pales dwarf listens to the venture captains words quietly with a worried frown, absently scratching at some sort of itch the entire time. His silence only marred by a noticeable wheezing breath, frequent coughing and the occasional sniffle.
One starts to wonder if he's ill... His nose does seem unusually red and runny, with all manner of effluviants crusting up in his beard. His pallid skin also seems to have taken on a slight sheen since he came in.
He did not really introduce himself upon arrival, other than mumbling his name "Sickly." before gravitating to the back of the room out of everyone's immediate line of sight, as if hoping not to get noticed.
He literally bristles with weapons of various sorts, though whether out of need, indecisiveness, or overcompensation is not immediately apparent.
A large polearm, with a hammer of dark adamantium on one end, is the most apparent.
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A solid half-orc comes in. He is heavy-set compared to humans.
He is relatively small for a half-orc, though.
"I am Gruugdúrz Staz Dushûrz."
"I can fight. It's what I do."
"Saraai and I have met already."
He listens attentively to Venture-Captain Obo.
Despite stuffing his face as soon as refreshments arrive.
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A young woman with brown hair reaching her shoulders enters the room. She wears a traveler's outfit consisting of various yellow and beige pieces, but what stands out are the dark brown socks attached to her oversized bronze earrings.
"I'm Miyako!" she declared proudly, adjusting the rapier on her hip as it suddenly moves on its own.
Miyako: Gramps, stop moving my stuff!
Great-grandfather: But it looks neater when you wear it like... this!
The rapier shifts to Miyako's other hip, seemingly all by itself. Miyako sighs annoyed and pulls it back to her left hip.
Miyako: Noooo!
Great-grandfather: Alright, alright...
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Miyako is not in the room for too long before Sickly starts sniffling more than he was before, and occasionally rubbing his eyes which seem to be tearing up.
"Is there a cat or something in here?" He mutters unhappily, looking around through watery eyes.
He eventually stops trying to find the offending animal and digs into his pack for a overly-large kit filled with vials and bottles and wrapped packages of all sorts. He pulls out a neatly labeled bottle, unstops it and take a large swig, pauses for a moment, before taking another, then puts it all away again.
His symptoms seem to let up some after that, though do not go away completely.
"Allergies" He mumbles sheepishly, as others look his way.
"It has meaning to him and he will know you then." He explains.
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Miyako gives Sickly a confused look, then shrugs and moves out to gather some information.
She meets up with her allies a while later, and immediately starts ranting about her discoveries: "Apparently the butcher's son has an affair with misses Smith! Can you believe it? How scandalous! Not only is she married, but she's at least twice his age!"
"Oh, yeah, wait... Did I learn something useful for the mission...? Uhhhhhmmmm..."
You know,
Azir is the capitol of Rahadoum. The entire nation upholds the Laws of Man, which make worshipping the gods illegal. The country adopted these laws following decades of religious wars, and although this has driven away the most devout merchants, Rahadoum is nevertheless the home to many influential businesspeople.
Although often referred to as atheists, the people of Rahadoum accept that the gods exist but simply refuse to venerate them, believing that the price of worship is too great. An elite militant organization known as the Pure Legion enforces the ban on religion.
Despite the Pure Legion’s best efforts, there is nevertheless a considerable trade in smuggled religious paraphernalia. Punishment for breaking religious law ranges from a fine for possession of forbidden texts to public humiliation or deportation for proselytizing or
displays of divine magic.
The heat of the midday sun accentuates the strange juxtaposition of salty sea air and dry, desert wind, just as the Rahadoumi caravans mingle with sailors from a dozen lands to make the markets of Azir a bustling, cosmopolitan hub of western Garund. The city’s edifices ranges from old constructions rejuvenated with elegant murals and exotic carvings to much newer buildings built with irregular angles and acute corners that combine to create an elegant mosaic of art and architecture. A vibrant soundscape overlays this visual effect, combining the sound of men haggling over baskets of dates, camels bleating in protest to their handlers’ commands, and the chorus of seagulls that soar overhead in search of an easy meal.
As your ship arrives in Azir, several port officials begin performing routine tasks and inspections as a pair of Pure Legionnaires ask "Anything to declare?"
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Sickly had tried, throughout the voyage to Rahadoum, to protect himself from the sun and elements. He'd produced a vast array of creams and ointments and tinctures over the time they'd been on the ship, though none of them really seemed to help too much.
By the time they get to Azir, his skin is red and blistering, and he seems to have acquired some sort of rash that had persisted despite his best efforts.
All of it is compounded of course, the moment they dock and the air of a new exotic city hits them, as he breaks into a series of sneezing fits.
"I tink id's da spices." He say, obviously congested.
He looks at the official unhappily and mutters, "Awahgies." by way of explanation.
After a brief pause, he realizes he didn't answer the question asked, and adds, "I ga nudd'n", before he starts sneezing again, and starts digging around in his pocket for a somewhat grimy-looking handkerchief to attempt to wipe his nose with... only semi-successfully.
They will do a brief inspection, quickly looking in bags and the like, then allow you all to move on.
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Sickly, who seems to have gotten the allergies under control, for now. He looks around the strange city with a mix of curiosity and dread.
"If he's trying to be anonymous, maybe we shouldn't use his name?" He mutters, scratching absently at his shoulder as he shuffles to the side to get as far away from a nearby camel as he can.
You are easily able to find the house you are looking for and are met by a formidable woman. After you introduce yourselves the major dono,Akhina, bids you to enter and sit. She tells you, Approximately 2 weeks ago, her mistress began withdrawing from public events disappearing for longer and longer times, and acting very secretively. She instructed Akhina to be careful about whom she admitted through the gate. The only guest that Jahani entertained during this time was a Taldan copper merchant named Maroc, whom she met with several times in her study. Approximately a week ago, Jahani disappeared and has not returned, causing Akhina considerable consternation.
"Im sure he is still about." She says at the mention of Maroc.