After an Andoren village is razed by the Hydra's Fang, a renegade Chelish slaver-ship, outrage threatens the stability of both nations. You and your fellow Pathfinders are sent to capture the Fang before the Inner Sea is pitched into a political frenzy.
You are awoken in the middle of the night by a sharp rap at your door. Opening the door, you find a sleepy-eyed page requesting your presence in Drendle Drang’s quarters. You dress hastily and navigate the halls of the Grand Lodge. As you near Drang’s chamber, snatches of violin music waft from the hall where his quarters are located. Arriving at the door to his chamber, you realise the music is emanating from his room and your knocks go unanswered. Entering his room in ones and twos, Drang ignores his guests until four groggy Pathfinders arrive. Once all four are assembled, he sets the violin down abruptly and strolls over to the fireplace mantle, retrieving a felt slipper and a meerschaum pipe. He withdraws a small pouch from the slipper and opening it, removes some shag tobacco. He begins to pack the pipe with the tobacco before removing a hot poker from the fireplace, touching it to the pipe bowl, and drawing on the pipe until the contents kindle an ember. He stands eyeing the assembled group and puffing on the pipe for a long few moments before speaking.
"Pathfinders, I called you in tonight to discuss a problem I need you to solve". he says as clouds of pipe smoke drift lazily around his head. "Have you ever heard of Darsielle Du Moire? He’s the third son of a wealthy Chelaxian count and a little bastard at that" he says before anyone assembled can answer his question. "He excelled at squandering the family fortune on debauchery and hedonism before this old man gave him the boot. Old man Du Moire gave his son a small sailing vessel and a privateer’s writ and sent him on his way. Well Darsielle took to a privateer’s life like a jackal upon the carcass of a fallen stag". Drandle says as he begins to pace the room. "In a few short seasons, he sank half a dozen pirate ships, as well as one or two Andoren vessels that he claimed were unmarked". Dreng rolls his eyes. Due to tales of his ruthlessness, the infamy of his ship, the Hydra’s Fang, has spread. Then the little bastard sailed in to Westcrown and demanded to be made an admiral". Drandle smiles and shakes his head. "Darsielle’s got a pair on him. I’ll give him that. Anyway, his demands didn’t sit well with the current high-admiral, Astran Thrune. Compounding matters, the Andoran government accused Du Moire of deliberately attacking free Andoren ships. Dubbing his attacks “acts of war,” they threatened to retaliate unless the Chelish government placed a cease and-desist upon the Hydra’s Fang".
Dreng stops pacing long enough to knock some of the ashes out of his pipe and reload it with more tobacco. "Where was I? Oh yes, soon after the Andoren accusations, several of the imperial families called for the privateer’s head. Upon official word of his condemnation, Darsielle fled Westcrown and went on a rampage, foundering ships and looting small towns up and down the Andoren coast. This time, the Andorens responded with a formal declaration of war. Hoping to avoid conflict, the Chelish diplomats promised to permanently rid the Inner Sea of the Hydra’s Fang, provided they stay their attacks. Andoran accepted a temporary treaty, giving Cheliax thirty days to make good on their offer". Drandle smiles again, shaking his head. "Such a little bastard. Well, a fortnight later, Darsielle struck the small Andoren village of Wittleshine, burning it to the ground. He churned the ivory sands to black ash, butchering scores of fishermen and seaweed farmers before dragging off the living in slave chains. Keeping their word, Chelish dragoons attempted to stop him by ambushing him with two battleships just off shore. Chelish rear-admiral Gusarre the Bleak led the dragoons and in a radical maneuver rammed the prow his ship, the Righteous Fury, into the Hydra’s Fang’s hull. Unfortunately, one of Darseille’s men got off a lucky retaliatory shot that struck Gusarre in the throat, pitching the admiral into the angry waters. In the disarray, Darsielle’s men set the Righteous Fury’s sails aflame with a barrage of tarred arrows. Du Moire quickly piloted a narrow escape, while the remaining Chelish ship chose to aid their allies rather than give pursuit—a poor decision, for which her captain was later hanged" Dreng frowns. "Be glad we don’t live in Cheliax"
He stops pacing and stares at the party. "Which brings me to your part in this. With the Hydra’s Fang’s badly damaged hull taking on water, Darsielle desperately sought safe harbor in the one port where he could still pull favors, Diobel. Right here in our home territory". Drandle smiles wickedly. "I need you to go Diobel where you will be contacted by one of agents at a local pub called “The Tails”. He’ll tell you where to find Du Moire. Also we have intelligence that says that Darsielle has some tablets that we’d like to get our hands on, but your contact will explain everything" Dreng gives the party a half-cocked smile "So you better get packing. Any questions?"
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Raijan is an incredibly flamboyantly and sloppily dressed tengu, but his normally vacant smile is hardened as he can't contain a look of savage joy at Dreng's words.
I get to hunt this slaver down? No keeping him alive and unhurt for political reasons? Dreng - I'm going to buy you a nice bottle of wine once we're done here.
He flings himself to his feet and strides from the room, calling over his shoulder, I've got to get my game face on for this.
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Hikari shows little sign of just being abruptly woken up in the middle of the night, nor does the robe he had to put on hastily appear unkempt in any way. Hikari glances around, his face largely expressionless. You get the impression though that he is absorbing his surroudings carefully. His red robes are of a style seldom seen in Avistan, though those more cosmopolitan would recognise them as a kimono of the Minkai. Under the robes hanging from his neck is an elegantly carved symbol of a glowing sun, overlaid by a katana. His swept-back hair (unnaturally neat despite the late night summons) is the usual Tian raven black, but interestingly his eyes are reddish-orange in hue.
Before speaking, he gives each person present a perfect 45 degree bow. When he rises, he introduces himself in a careful, measured tone. "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Hayashi Hikari, humble servant of Shizuru, Empress of Heaven, Guardians of Ancestors, Goddess of the Sun and Divine Ancestor of Minkai, the Empire of the Dawn. Hayashi is my family name, so please address me as Hikari, in the manner of the west. I am here in Avistan as an emissary of my liege lord, Daimyo of the Clan Yamamoto."
He gives another bow, before continuing. "I am most thankful to be seleced for this mission. Du Moire has committed vile deeds in the eyes of Heaven and it would be my duty and pleasure to bring him to justice." He pauses here briefly, perhaps rather significantly, before adding, "Like Master ... RumbleRock, I am most curious about these tablets?"
I get to hunt this slaver down? No keeping him alive and unhurt for political reasons? Dreng - I'm going to buy you a nice bottle of wine once we're done here.
"Do as your conscience dictates, whether he falls in combat or handed in to any number of authorities the end will be the same - at the very best he will hang for his crimes. So long as he doesn't leave Diobel upright." Dreng goes back to smoking his pipe, seemingly satisfied that he knows the mission is in good hands.
"The Azlanti tablets are said to contain a series of carvings containing lost Azlanti lore, obviously rare items of such historical and academic value are of great interest to us"
***
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A small hairy man stands in the corner, coming at the back end of the group, doing a fair amount of mumbling and chatting with himself as he comes in, looking a bit wired as if he's drank a pot of coffee already this morning.
As Drang mentions Darsielle Du Moire he quickly looks up and raises a finger, starting to say something when he's cut off. "Well I knew of him... regardless, continue." He mumbles.
As the VC continues the discussion the man pulls out a notebook and starts jotting notes down furiously with a finely cut piece of charcoal. "Yes, Cheliax is a horrid, horrid place." He concurs, before nervously looking around the room for anyone of obvious Chelaxian descent. Crap, none of these look like hellknights do they? Chelaxian nobles? Whew.
"I have a few questions and statements if I may?" He puts down his notebook and moves more to the front of the group for a better view of the VC. He's dressed in studded leather armor with a scorch mark or two with twin bandoleers stuffed with vials and the like across his chest. His arms and legs are skinny and his head a bit oversized for his limbs. Thick brown hair, almost to the point of fur, sprouts from almost every inch of skin visible.
He clears his throat and begins the longest runon, mishmashed, over the top 'question/statement' you've ever heard. "First off, my name is Dale, well not my given name mind you, but the name I've since taken due to some unfortunate circumstances in said region known as Cheliax. I'd like to reiterate that I did know of this Du Moire family. I'm quite familiar with the geo-political affairs of the region, its inhabitants, be they humanoid, beastly, or unworldly. Also, I must confess, that pipe tobacco is divine, it tastes local.. with a mix of something else? Anyhow, I'm sure we'll be able to deal with the man in question... about these tablets? They sound exciting, amazing, wonderful! I'll need to pick up some rubbing paper to make copies! I should work on learning Azlanti, I've been putting it off far too long... I'll be sure to help fill in anyone if they have any questions about what we may or may not run into on our way to Diobel. Pretty rough area sometimes for sure..."
Seeing some of the looks he's starting to get he slowly closes his mouth for some possible rebuttal.
The Venture Captain raises an appraising eye at the self-styled Sage "Then you might be twice as useful as I planned, not only can you deal with this upstart but also have an eye for the historical artifacts - saves there being any mix-ups" he gestures for Dale to help himself to some of the tobacco "Anyone else? Otherwise your boat leaves on the morning tide"
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Twice as useful? My reputation must precede me after my earlier mission.. Dale smiles and procures a solid pinch of tobacco and puts it in a vial for safe keeping. "I'll be sure to get to this tobacco later, my thanks."
He turns to the rest of his group "If you have need for an alchemist why I'm your man! However, I won't have time to craft what you'll be wanting so maybe I can just provide you with some guidance in your shopping while you do so? May I suggest a fabulous concoction known as.. touch of the sea?"
Diobel
Diobel stands upon the flooded ruins of a former siege town on the western coast of the Isle of Kortos. The inner harbour is fortified by a gigantic maze of derelict war-barges, crumbling break walls, and haphazard jetties constructed from the rubble and iron of ancient fortifications. The real power in Diobel is the Kortos Consortium - a group that conducts itself as a merchant collective but is almost certainly connected to smuggling of contraband.
Hydra's Fang
Had it not been connected to Du Moires recent high profile activities, this unremarkable cutter would have simply been another of the untold number of similar barely mentionable small ships employed by smugglers, pirates, privateers, and minor merchants up and down the coastal waters of the inner sea.
Whittleshine
A small Andoren hamlet on the coast of Star Bay, mostly involved in seaweed farming and fishing. The inhabitants of Whittleshine were mostly migrant families from across the Inner Sea who had been drawn the promise of a new life in the grand Andoran experiment.
"We're ensuring our own interests. If things get...complicated...it limits our ability to move freely. Raised suspicions and all that"
"You will stand out, Osprey will find you easy enough. You don't look much like a fisherman, nor smell like one"
***
You arrive in Diobel from Absalom at dawn to meet your contact in a pub known as “The Tails”; a dingy, brine-soaked shack covered with swordfish tails located in a rundown section of town called South Reach. There, bitter longshoreman coming off the graveyard shifts pile in and slam rounds of a potent shark-fin liquor, cursing and complaining until they’re drunk enough to be carted home by noon.
The disparaged scene has few prying eyes—the ideal place for Pathfinders to pass along their covert whispers. You enter early in the day, when the small crowd of older men is at its most drunk and rowdy, the revelry within barely contained by the boarded-up windows. You stand out like sore thumbs among the ruddy-faced dockworkers, most of whom have more ginblossoms than teeth.
The crowd immediately heckles you for being up-scalers and gold-thumbers, demanding you spend some of your coin to buy the bar a round, but quickly fall silent when moments later, a dark, cloaked figure rises from the back of the bar. Then, eyes averted, everyone returns to their former conversations. Drawing back his cloak, your contact reveals himself—a man his late forties with obvious Chelaxian features and a faint beard. He introduces himself only as Osprey, then invites you to sit before he finally tells you why the Society dragged you to Diobel.
“We’ve word that the accursed Chelaxian pirate Darsielle Du Moire’s has anchored his much sought ship, the Hydra’s Fang, in the harbor. Everyone’s looking for that bastard. He carries with him some ancient tablets of extreme historical value to our organization. Unknown to most, Wittlestone, the small Andoren town Du Moire razed to the ground, was also home to Myraxus Threeshadows, a noted but aging sage and umber mystic supposedly of ancient Azlanti descent" Osprey shakes his sadly before continuing "Among Myraxus’s possessions he kept ancient forgeries of several tablets used in ancient rites during Old Azlant’s height. When Darsielle destroyed the village, he slew the wizard and took the tablets, hoping to pawn them to one of his buyers in Diobel. The tablets are a priceless archeological treasure, one greatly desired by the Pathfinder Society. In fact, just prior to the Azlanti’s death, we placed several bids to purchase the tablets and so naturally were the first to realize they’d gone missing".
"You must race to get Du Moire and recover the stolen tablets before his pursuers find him or he flees port. If our sources are correct, we’ve learned that he owes a substantial amount of money to one of the Consortium’s more ambitious Enforcers, an importer named Lubor Staizkal. Likely he needs to settle with him at some point. Go to Lubor’s shop on Meldon Lane, near the docks, and see if you can pick up Du Moire’s trail from there, then do whatever you can to get those tablets. May the Gods speed you in this task.”
[dice=Knowledge (Local) re: Lubor]1d20+5
Lubor is an average pawnbroker and moneylender, and being in Diobel, almost certainly deals with people of dubious reputation.
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Dale heads into the bar, pausing for a moment to admire the swordfish rostrums on the wall. "Who caught these monsters? Bet they'd make a neat sword eh?" He continues to head inside for the meeting.
Once inside he looks around to the drunk sailors "Arrgh matey! Sweet swordfish outside. What's good to drink here anywho?"
He sits and fidgets a bit as the man quiets the crowd and explains things I wonder what he did to scare all these men?
"Sounds like we need to visit this Lubor guy eh? Maybe he's already got the tablets? Don't think he'll give em up without a pile of coin or a struggle. Unfortunately I don't provide much for either."
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Hikari bows deeply Osprey. "By Shizuru's sword, I pledge to hunt down this man, and have him pay for the atrocities that he has committed." Almost as an after thought, he continues, "If we find the tablets, we will return them as well." Glancing briefly at Dale, Hikari asks rather pointedly, "Does the Society have any ... need to maintain relationships with this Lubor?"
"We don't have any relationship with Lubor, but Lubor probably has some relationships with others, and they might not be ones to upset. This is Diobel, the Consortium is always watching"
You finish your conversation with Osprey over some delicious clam chowder, and he fills you in with more information with the workings of Diobel. He then provides you directions to Lubors in Meldon Lane.
Diobel stands upon the flooded ruins of a former siege town on the western coast of the Isle of Kortos. The inner harbor is fortified by a gigantic maze of derelict war-barges, crumbling break walls, and haphazard jetties constructed from the rubble and iron of ancient fortifications. Only smaller vessels can fit through the maze, so warships and large merchant galleys must anchor further out in the open waters off Kortos. As a formal display, any ships seeking to moor in port must first send ashore representatives to register with local officials.
Registered boats receive a temporary harbormaster’s pass, after which they can ship in goods in flat-bottomed barges or rowboats. These crafts are led into the maze, pulled along a series of dock-lined canals that weave through the twisted passages. The maze enters first into the Shallows, a wide bay sheltered from the main harbour. The Shallows then flows beneath the main docks into the Underdocks, a shadowy series of walkways that traverses shoals along the rocky shoreline.
Scattered through at various intervals are barnacle-and-algae crusted stone bunkers and small floating docks concealing rowboats, barges, and other small transports. The bunkers provide shelters to many of the port’s seedier denizens, storage facilities, and on occasion structural stability to the town itself. Ladders and pylons connect the Underdocks to the rest of the port above.
Diobel is run by elected members of the merchant’s council known as the Kortos Consortium. Electorate terms are generally long, with some members holding their positions for decades. More often than not, those who take on the Consortium’s responsibilities end up forfeiting or retiring their other business ventures (usually shipping companies) and settle down in Diobel as career politicians.
Technically, the Consortium is a free and independent organization open to any merchant willing to pay Consortium dues. The Consortium makes concerted efforts to reduce the trafficking of contraband, stolen merchandise, and tax-free imports, as well as the exporting of contraband Kortosian artifacts that fall outside Absalom’s enforceable jurisdiction. Most members find the organization’s enforcement extremely effective, though only the highest-ranking members possess knowledge of the organization’s true interests and activities...
***
Following Ospreys directions, you arrive at the small business in Meldon Lane. A sign over the door reads “Lubor’s Imports.” The door hangs slightly ajar. All is dark within, and eerily silent. As you peer inside, you witness the scene of a recent brawl. Furniture lies smashed and strewn about. Near a closed door at the back of the shop, two bodies slump upon the floor, their blood pooling slowly beneath them.
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Dale listens intently to the man known as Osprey as he describes the inner workings of the city. "Really! Fascinating. I never knew that! Good to know, thanks."
Upon arriving and entering the premises Dale merely shakes his head. He pulls out a thin metal wand and taps the end of it on the door jam, flaring it into a bright light as he enters the dark room. "Hrm my second mission.. same as the first. Show up to a meeting with bodies strewn about! Lets have a look!"
Dale rushes in to check the bodies for life, as well as to see if there are any clues to be found.
The party moves in... the only things of note are the two bodies of the men and the door leading to the east in this otherwise mishmash of an emporium. There is a lot of blood on the floor, Both men came to a violent end and are firmly dead - stabbed repeatedly with light blades.
You all catch the sound of moving boxes and muffled talking on the other side of the door, the door looks very sturdy.
The tengu gently tries the handle and notes the door has been locked. The lock looks respectable, but likely within the means of a reasonable locksmith to deal with.
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Dale smiles and nods. "I may have spent some time as a locksmith on occasion, mighty nice of you to ask!" He pulls out a small rolled up bag of tools and selects the correct implements for his task, a couple of well worn wires and hooks and gets to work.
"The art of picking a lock is... tricky or simple, depending on the lock in question and the manual dexterity of the individual wielding the tools you know." .
"You've got to work these just right it seems. The style of lock here is quite antique, but still in good working order. Gnomes and Dwarves make about 75% of the locks in Golarion I bet. It must be their small hands and attention to detail."
Dale starts working the lock, taking advantage of the noise within the room to tickle the tumblers, but the occasional cessation of noise throws him and he loses his progress a few times, but then the lock clicks over quietly...
The door swings open and you see two men in studded leather armour with bucklers and longswords, their nautical clothing cut with Chelish colours. One by the door is holding his sword whilst the other is rifling through a crate.
A teenage girl hovers over the bloodied corpse of a middle-aged merchant. Her silent eyes filled with tears, she mouths the word “daddy.”
Surprise Round
Dale
Thunder
Hikari
Rumble
The tengu rushes the room and stabs one of the men, meanwhile, Hikari steps and casts a spell...!