"I am dotting for my master, Mareq the Magnificent, the Unhumbled, the Powerful, Righteous, and Breaker of Chains.
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"This better be worth it. I had a paying gig lined up and was ordered to come to this briefing instead. Where are we going?" a rough looking sellsword says walking into the room. He stops over by the bar, opens and sniffs all the bottles before settling on one that pleases him. He pours the drink into a cup and sits down looking over the others.
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Mareq, resplendent in new robes, sweeps into the room. When he sees the Ulfen man sitting with a drink in his hand, a man he's never met before, he looks quickly to Husarq with a reprimand in his eyes.
"Ahem, allow me to present my Master," Husarq quickly says before Mareq can explode at him. "Mareq ibn al-Shamir, Ambassador Percipient to Golarion; the Rejected, the Scorned, the Avenger, the greatest scion of Bayt al-Shamir of the City of Brass!"
Mareq grimaces at the terrible delivery of his honorifics, his raised hand poised to strike his insufferably pathetic thrall. But something, perhaps the presence of a new face, stays his hand.
"Sir, whatever you drink, allow me to buy you another. Tell me your name and tale, that it may live forever in the annals of the City of Brass," offers Mareq to the Ulfen man.
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Briefing:
Sturdy wood paneling runs the length of Birchwood Hall’s main corridor. Framed sketches of garment designs hang along the walls beside glass-encased pieces of ne raiment. Thick shelves carry an assortment of headwear and shoes, each carefully labeled with small, engraved plaques specifying their origins and cultural significance.
To the far south, the gallery opens into a circular lounge where a middle-aged Taldan man sits mending the hem of an ornate blue silk robe.
The man is Venture-Captain Alvar Hadrias, and he sets down his work and rises as you approach.
“Pathfinders, thank you for coming. Pardon me; I was just finishing up restoring a new arrival. The Six Springs Empress herself wore this garment. It’s a very exciting addition to the collection. But enough of all that—I’m afraid I must be brief. Time is of the essence.
“Tensions are rising in the local town of Zmeyka regarding the rightful ownership of the region. The main source of contention comes from the noble houses of Orlovsky and Surtova. While I would appreciate if you could gather information on the current political climate and help soothe the strain, your primary task lies elsewhere.
“The unfortunate truth is that Brevoy is likely headed toward civil war, with Zmeyka as its starting point. Such violence is sure to lead to the destruction of many valuable relics, including an ancient local site known as Hartsfall Keep. It is now little more than ruins, but most of its history has gone undocumented. I need you to explore the keep and learn as much about its history as possible for our records before it’s destroyed.
“Avoiding war would be ideal if you can discover a solution to end the current divide between Surtova and Orlovsky, but that may not be an option at this point. If you can present yourselves as neutral arbiters, you may have a chance. Your main focus should be on logging your ndings and retrieving any artifacts for safekeeping. In the meantime, I am bound for the capital to see if I can convince King Noleski Surtova not to send more troops that way.”
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During the briefing, an attendant comes in and sets down a magical basket. You've seen these before. Its arrival is announced by the smells of fresh, warm apple biscuits, pies, and other culinary delights from Absalom, Kassen's Rest, Tamran, and elsewhere.
Attached is a note: "To keep up your strength. -Sir D."
There's an addendum to the note: "P.S.: Don't worry. We're keeping a close eye on the douche nozzle."
Somehow, the clever halfling managed to fit even more food in the magical basket than ever before.
The attendant begins plating the food and sets it out before you.
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"Juuuuust great.... going back to my homelands. I didnt leave there last time in the best of regards... not after leaving some toffy minor noble with a dueling scar. I've heard of the Surtova and Orlovsky noble houses. My family never had any dealings with them. Heard one of the Orlovsky's was an athlete, pretty good one too. For you new folks to the area- lots of Gorum folks, and Pharasmans. Political intrigue is everywhere, one of the reasons why I left. Some folks will be quick to anger and if they have a slender blade like this one at their hip then leave them to me. While not quite like Ustalav- some parts of the area can get fairly creepy and scary." Fenrik tells the others as they journey to the border region.
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Berosius happily helps himself to the pies and pastries and is far too occupied with that diversion to take part in the discussion for some time.
Finally, hands spread across his now-tight waistcoat, he sighs contentedly and tries to focus on the discussion. "Does either noble house lay claim to Hartsfell Keep?"
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A tall, strong, and absolutely hideous half-orc rushes into the room, out of breathe.
He wears full plate armor and a red cloak, so battered it is hardly wearable. Fastening his cloak at the neck is a shiny silver brooch of Ragathiel. He carries a finely crafted nodachi with a blade of solid adamantine.
"Harrow late! Harrow not know giving orders, but Harrow here now!"
The half-orc hardly seems to care about the mission briefing, but instead tears into the apple biscuits.
"Rarrow really...riss Rir Rydimus...recond-rest riend," he says between mouth-fulls of biscuit.
Husarq looks at the grain-based mortal confections.
"Is there mortal blood baked into them?" he asks, wondering why anybody would eat such things.
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"Oh, he's a problem alright," says Berosius, scooting more muffins Harrow's way. "I tell him and tell him what the salad fork is for, but he never listens."
Berosius smiles up at Fenrik. "I'd rather face any problem in the world with Harrow at my back than without him... except for maybe addressing wedding invitations. That would be awkward. Anyway, he's blessed by the gods, he hits like a Chelaxian battle dromond, and he's got a heart of gold. So he's going with us. You'll be glad we have him as soon as anything goes pear-shaped. Even if he's the reason it goes pear-shaped."
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Husarq looks at the grain-based mortal confections.
"Is there mortal blood baked into them?" he asks, wondering why anybody would eat such things.
A passing-by Pathfinder, who also happens to be a Kuthite, obliges Husarq's unusual request.
_____Any other questions or preparations before we head on? Once we're past this point, you're on a "timer" for the mission.
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The venture-captain provides you with transportation for the journey, riding with you on horseback as far as the capital New Stetven before hiring a riverboat to take you the rest of the way to Zmeyka.
As your boat arrives, you can see that Weathered granite encircles the sloping hillside town of Zmeyka with an iron gate built into the west wall. A dirt road leads from this entrance to a market square surrounded by several wooden buildings. At the town’s northernmost point stands a white-stone building with a single tower at its center. A large, ornate gold key protrudes from atop its onion-shaped dome. To the south, a collection of modest cottages rests on an expanse of verdant grass and wild flowers.
You also know that Zmeyka is a small town built near a local copper mine, which is the town’s main industry and export.
Around town, wary-faced residents shuffle about their business, averting their eyes from the numerous armored figures keeping watch. Half of these imposing soldiers wear yellow tabards bearing the symbol of a black eagle, while the other half wear dark tabards bearing the symbol of a gray ship sailing under a night sky.
_____
20+: The disappearance of former ruling Brevic family, House Rogarvia, caused a massive divide between the remaining noble houses. Despite House Surtova’s previous favored status, Rogarvia loyalists now consider them usurpers. These loyalists include House Orlovsky, which is known for its staunch fealty, even a er the Vanishing.
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25+: Lord Poul Orlovsky’s niece, Sylvanna Orlovsky, o en acts as her uncle’s emissary. She was betrothed to a scion of House Rogarvia from birth, but the Vanishing soon ended the arrangement. She is known for her keen equestrianism and is considered an accomplished jouster despite her age. Berislav Surtova is a distant cousin of King Noleski Surtova and frequently serves as his envoy. He is an eligible bachelor who is rumored to favor the company of men over women. His skill with a sword is said to be second only to his expertise with gambling and strategic games.
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As the party looks around, it's clear that the average person/resident of Zmeyka is wary and prone to eye-aversion. They keep to their own business because feelings are very volatile--especially under the shadow of so many armed soldiers from rival houses.
A tipsy-looking gentleman stumbles across your path. Looks like he's been drowning his troubles at a local watering hole all now and is making his way home at the moment. Perhaps, in this unguarded moment, you could glean some information from him.
He accidentally stumbles into Harrow. "Huh? I don't remember a wall being here."
The happy drunk looks up at the half-orc through unfocused eyes and raises a mostly-empty bottle in a sort of drunken salute. "G'day, constable! Lovely morning, eh?"
"Say... Do you smell apple pie?"
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Harrow looks like he is about to be annoyed after being run into, but the thought of apple pie shakes him out of it.
"Apple pie Harrow's favorite!" he says. "Maybe Harrow talk about apple pie if you tell Harrow what happening here. Why nobody smiling? What happening with all these guys on different teams?"
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At Harrow's bellowing voice, the man spins around to address him (and ends up facing Berosius, instead).
"What?!? You don't know what's going on in town? Didn't you hear what happened? The strength of House Rogarvia was sufficient to hold the country together despite internal tensions between the various houses. That is, until every member of House Rogarvia mysteriously disappeared 17 years ago in an event known as the Vanishing."
The man wiggles his fingers in a way that's clearly meant to indicate mystery and powerful forces.
"A member of House Surtova holds the throne now. But his position is far from stable. Brevoy teeters on the brink of civil war, with its noble families locked in a struggle for power."
The man's mind randomly zips from thought to thought.
"You know, Zmeyka flourished as a copper mining town under House Orlovsky. But, after Choral the Conqueror (House Rogarvia) ascended to the throne, he gave control of this land to House Surtova. In the aftermath of the Vanishing, the Surtovas offered to make Zmeyka a neutral territory in an effort to win the Orlovsky's support, but the land's status is still in contention."
The man spins again, this time facing Mareq.
"Although both Orlovsky and Surtova loyalists now live in town, our popular baron managed to keep the peace up until the last month--when he passed away from natural causes. Zmeyka's citizens have become increasingly bold in sniping at each other, and both the Orlovskys and the Surtovas have mobilized sizeable armed forces as 'peacekeepers' in the power vacuum. It is only a matter of time before the two houses clash."
He shakes his head with disappointment.
"It's a shame that Zmeyka's movers and shakers can't see eye to eye."
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Kelson continues with the man. "And NO one found anything? Who seems mostly likely to lead now a days?" He rubs his chin. "Did the baron have any heirs?"
At Kelson's question, the drunken man shares a handful of conspiracy theories--each more outrageous than the last.
____________________________________________________________
This might be meta gaming. But would reading parts of Ultimate Intrigue help with the scenario?
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Harrow helps the drunk man up.
"Who are 'movers and shakers?' Harrow make them see each other eyes!"
"Oh, thank you, sire!"
Inspired by Harrow's simple act of kindness, the man relates what he can about the influential people in town.
Movers and Shakers:
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__________
As the party approaches Idhrenniel's market stall, you can see that she's a woman of few words. It's not so much that her words are terse--when she has something to say, she communicates completely. She simply doesn't speak unless there's something today.
You can also see that her customers admire the quality of her catches. She obviously takes care to dispatch her prey as humanely as possible. Furthermore, the killing blow is done expertly, preserving as much usable meat and fur as possible.
She also has the most impressive specimens of local fauna. One of her regular customers shakes his head, and let's out a long whistle of admiration. With a smile he exclaims: "I dunno how ye do it, Idhrenniel. I ain't never caught a rabbit even half this meaty! This'll make a great stew fer Lucky's birthday. Thank ye."
The elf merely nods once in reply.
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"Hello!" says Berosius, pushing his way to the front of his much bigger group. "I'm Berosius and I do hope we aren't disturbing you. We're Pathfinders and we're trying to learn a little about the area. We were hoping you could tell us something about the region. And, in the meantime, perhaps you could show us your furs? I understand it gets very cold here in the winter."
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Harrow eyes the squirrel on the spit, with the butter and yummy spices.
The half-orc points at himself, and in his typical self-referential fashion, speaks about himself in the third person.
"Harrow expert at tasting food. Need help tasting that? It look like you good hunter to catch it...but good cooker, too."
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"Good Hunter Idhrenniel, I have one general question and one specific question, if you would indulge a traveler from urban locales on and off this plane of existence..." asks Mareq politely. "Do you find squirrels are really the best return on investment, given how little protein mass they provide and how much effort you must spend on killing them? If you factor in business overhead and bio-energy consumption on your part, wouldn't a larger animal be a better investment? Say an elk or hart, perhaps?"
Mareq shifts gears slightly, "Now, with anybody else, I would use this conversational direction to segue into questions about Hartsfall Keep, asking you small inquiries linking deer hunting to HARTsfall Keep, you see. But you seem the direct type, concise and conserving of your rhetorical energies. So, instead, I shall ask directly, what can you tell us about Hartsfall Keep? We are historians and antiquities recorders and plan to venture into the keep to examine it."
"Oh, but please don't think I'm not genuinely interested in the hunter energy cost/benefit analysis one takes into account in your line of work. Really, so small. The commons in the City of Brass would rarely hunt lava rats, finding it more profitable to simply steal coins and pay for the local shaman to cast Create Food & Water spells."