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The debilitator drops to Bozmir's assault.
Dissa's powerful swing drops the swordsman as well.
I will use Dulomak's AoO roll and damage as his attack, though Kontha will miss. Dulomak strikes a deep gash into the brute.
Jeza takes advantage of the situation, steps back 5 feet, and strikes at the brute, dropping him as well.
The neophyte, seeing how fast his friends were taken care of by this powerful group, drops his weapon and raises his hands up in the air. "Ok, I give up," he exclaims nervously. "Please don't hurt me!"
Upon questioning, the neophyte explains that they are part of the Aspis Consortium and your group's investigation caught their eye. The Consortium figured you were after a rare artifact of some kind and sent a team to steal whatever treasure your group uncovered.
As you walk out of the shrine with your prisoners in tow, you notice that the crowd gathered around the Starstone Cathedral has disbanded, and many of the locals are still horrified following Sir Reinhart’s attempt to vault the chasm on horseback, which ended with a fall into oblivion.
Back at the Grand Lodge, Drandle Dreng personally thanks you for your successful investigation, indicating his interest in your future careers as Pathfinders. The members of the Aspis Consortium that you deliver to the authorities have very interesting things to say about their organization and are working their way to a plea bargain.
You find yourselves joining a gathering of several hundred Pathfinders for an announcement from the newly appointed liaison from Cheliax. With her on the stage is Master of Swords Marcus Farabellus. Zarta Dralneen, the former liaison from Cheliax looks on from the front row of the auditorium.
A tall, heavy-set woman wearing a black-lacquered breastplate and a sweeping ruby cloak rests a hand on the gold pommel of the longsword at her hip as she readies to address the Pathfinders assembled at the Grand Lodge. She nods once to Marcos Farabellus before beginning. “I am Ianareth Alazario, and I come to you with words spoken by Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune.
Pathfinders, your exile is at an end. Cheliax welcomes you once again.” Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus vigorously leads a round of applause that echoes off the sturdy walls following the new declaration. Ianareth’s smile is as wide as her host’s, though it falters slightly when her gaze falls on her disgraced predecessor Zarta Dralneen. Ianareth continues, “With your help, I would mend the rifts between us and forge an enduring friendship. I have entrusted your Master of Swords with several promising leads found within our borders. To that I add only this: Pathfinders, the glory of Cheliax is placed in your care.” Ianareth bows deeply to Marcos and then to the crowd before taking her leave. Marcos Farabellus steps behind the lectern and announces, “I’ve gathered a handful of teams to lead these initial expeditions, and I’ve posted those outside with times to meet me in my office for more details. There’s rewarding work ahead, so don’t be late!” With that, the auditorium begins to empty. Walking briskly with infinite poise and a clenched jaw, Zarta Dralneen is the first to disappear through the doors.
The crush of Pathfinders around the list is interesting, to say the least. Many find themselves with people of races they've only ever heard of, and professions as varied as those on the streets of Absolom. Jostling your way forward you find your names are on one of the half-dozen teams to lead the first sanctioned expeditions into Cheliax.
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"I'm pretty sure I was in Cheliax as a Pathfinder either yesterday or tomorrow. It's nice to know we'll be doing business as usual again for the first time." Dissa pans through the faces of the Pathfinders, welcoming the nods of some friends new and old.
"Claire Lee-Oblivyus, how are you? Still catching those invisible imps? That was a great story." He pats a female Wayang investigator firmly on the back. She seems glad to see him, and more glad to see him go.
He strides up to a few Teiflings having a close conversation about the Worldwound, waiting their turn to see the big board. "Marian and Jaegar, how are the Tarnshiav cousins doing today? I assume you've re-colonized your old town in Sarkoris? I can't wait to re-visit the house Tarnshiav restored to glory!" The two look confused, but smile politely and wish him well. They move swiftly to the board without looking back.
At one point, he seems a little disappointed. He whispers to Bozmir, "See that tall human barbarian with the oversized sword? His name is Holy Schmidt. I'm pretty sure he died in an alchemical explosion in Osirian. I'd keep your distance, he's a little crazy."
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"Osirian?" Bozmir replies, "I'm pretty sure my brother is in Sothis right now. If you can truly see the future, which I still highly doubt, I will have to warn him when Mr Schmidt is shipped there."
He scans the list for names he recognises, but unfortunately you don't get to meet to many people when you train day in, day out, to work optimally with a small group of people. He is glad his brother doesn't have to suffer through the evil empire. There were enough fiends for them both at the border to the Worldwound.
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"Heard Cheliax is a strange country. Hope grumbler will like it!" Stroking the dinosaur next to him very lovingly he offers a hand.
The man has a face like granite, a grumbeling voice and sandbrown hair. The only thing identifying him as an outsider are his eyes like emeralds. A Mountain pattern armor is molded to his body and he has slung an earthbreaker on his back and a polearm in his hand.
"My name is Steinfaust, and this cuty here is grumbler. Hope we will have an interesting time!"
As you enter, Zarta Dralneen stands across the Master of Swords’ desk, her back turned to you. She momentarily acknowledges the newcomers before continuing to lecture Farabellus. “Beware the good intentions of a Chelish diplomat. Who controls whom behind closed doors in Cheliax, and who are we serving by heeding the call of Abrogail’s infernal masters?”
Marcos strokes his beard for a moment, buying time to phrase his reply. “Caution is warranted, but you shouldn’t let past follies color your opinion of this opportunity, Zarta. This is our chance to freely operate within Cheliax again. The doors of Delvehaven may still be closed, but we can start to mend soured relations.” Marcos turns to the recently arrived agents. “I expect everyone who takes an assignment to conduct themselves as diplomats as well as explorers. We don’t need a public debacle to ruin our welcome, again.”
Zarta straightens her back and glares imperiously down at her counterpart. “Folly? One day you will look between the sheets and see you’ve climbed into bed with a snake, Marcos. I sincerely hope none of your agents find themselves in desperate need of a retrieval team; I remind you that devils work quickly to strip hope from one’s senses.” She turns and strides out of the room.
The Master of Swords massages his forehead with one hand and motions to
chairs with the other. “Lady Dralneen assumes that we take Cheliax entirely at its word. Ianareth Alazario provided me an incomplete history of a small keep in the Eismonts called Emberhold, once property of House Davian. The reason we don’t hear much of the Davians anymore is that they led the resistance against House Thrune during the Chelish civil war, and her infernal majestrix is not known for showing mercy. I’m sending you to explore the site, learn what you can about what happened there, and bring back any information about the Davians."
He leans forward and lowers his voice before adding, “You’ll be traveling through Corentyn, and I’d like you to pay a visit to the Museum of History there first. The curator, Zefiro Balinger, is an acquaintance of the Society and may have details not available in the official records. Get Balinger’s help, then visit Emberhold.” Marcos presents a small folded map. “You’ll leave Absalom aboard the Sea Sylph in two days—Society’s picking up the tab. It’s been years since we’ve had first-hand reports coming out of Cheliax, so be ready for anything.”
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"Ahhh, the old Sea Sylph. I can't wait to ride that old boat again tomorrow. I think this will be my first time!"Dissa exclaims.
"So, we need an updated map in the Museum of History in Corentyn, and then off to explore the remainders of Emberhold. Sounds like there will be fire." He turns to his friends, "Are we ready? I'm prepped for any travel any time."
With that, Dissa heads to the wharf.
Marcos chuckles some, "I can't say that there won't be, but we don't expect you to be associating with the types known for prejudice."
Delvehaven, a prestigious Pathfinder Lodge in Westcrown, has been sealed since 4676 AR, when a terrible tragedy in its halls threatened the stability of the city.
“disappeared” Zarta based on fictitious evidence submitted by one of Zarta’s political rivals. Despite the Pathfinder Society’s providing evidence to disprove these false accusations and exonerate her, Cheliax has provided neither any acknowledgement of or apology for imprisoning and punishing her for crimes she did not commit.
reveres Asmodeus. Though other faiths are not forbidden, none may flout the nation’s laws, challenge the mandates of Asmodeus, or defy House Thrune. Those who revere chaotic deities in particular often find themselves under especially close scrutiny.
several clandestine and very illegal organizations operate throughout Cheliax. This includes the Bellflower Network, a halflingrun group that liberates the halfling slaves so common in the country. Even discussing the organization openly might be considered a criminal act, if done so under the wrong circumstances.
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"Oh, hey Janira," Bozmir commands her attention when he runs into her at the Grand Lodge. "You wouldn't happen to have recently read up on Cheliax, Devils, and this recent business with Lady Alazario? I'll be travelling with a group through Corentyn into the Eismonts and exploring a keep called Emberhold. Know anything about that?"
Janira shrugs and smiles, "Oh hey Bozmir, I've only just started digging into this information myself since the big announcement. And I don't really have any information on devils, planar knowledge is one of the areas I'm deficient in."
She rubs her head and taps her foot in a quick rhythm while she recalls her information, "Let's see Cheliax... You'll be dealing with worshipers of Asmodeus, so if anyone is all about a good versus evil conflict tell them to keep that locked inside. Don't go around flouting the nation's laws, especially there, the Hellknight orders are rather strict. If anyone openly worships gods that embody chaos they will be looked down on, if not outright snubbed."
She waves Bozmir down, closer to her level, "It's kind of an open secret, especially among halflings, that there are certain illegal organizations in Cheliax, the most notable of which are the Bellflower Network. They are run by halflings and free the many enslaved halflings in the nation, so keep an eye on any of your smaller comrades, and don't go discussing the network in public, you can be jailed!" She gives Bozmir a quick hug while he's down at her level, "I've got to go lead another group on their Confirmation, let's hope it isn't as exciting as yours was!" She waves goodbye and hurries off.
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Bozmir says "I wish I could share what I have found out before you go, but good luck anyway. Don't go running into any more minotaur."
To the party, "Thanks for helping my research Stein and Dissa, I found that towards the end of the war, during the Battle of a Hundred Kings, Duchess Lannavia led House Davian against the Thrunes. Corentyn was devastated and the Thrunes crushed the House and its holdings along the west coast. Because the histories are heavily redacted, few in Cheliax know of the house and even fewer realise how close Thrune came to losing."
He looks around, suspicious of anyone trying to listen in.
On the morning of your departure a messenger arrives bearing a missive from Marcos.
Agents,
I recently learned that Zarta intends to send one of her own agents to
Corentyn with a mission she’s elected to keep secret. I don’t think we should interfere, but I never like seeing agents go out alone. If you can, make sure Cassian is on the boat with you when you return to Absalom.
–Marcos
The journey from Absalom to Corentyn is uneventful, with favorable winds and only one stop at the port of Merab. Captain Zaerim of the Sea Sylph states that the short waylay is an excuse to hug the southern shores of the Inner Sea and avoid Chelish naval patrols. You catch your first glimpse of the red Chelish flag days later, and you arrive in Corentyn at dusk a few days after that.
The last fiery golden rays of daylight silhouette the towering monument known as Aroden’s Arch, which reaches out from Corentyn’s southern wall to divide the Arcadian Ocean and the Inner Sea. Corentyn’s numerous fortifications rise behind mighty gray and brown limestone walls. Masts of ships both in port and at sea rise in the hundreds, like a legion pointing their spears toward the heavens.
As the Sea Sylph approaches port, Captain Zaerim orders his crew to ensure goods are neatly arranged and presentable. He’s collecting papers and seeing to the accuracy of his logs when he tells you to do the same. He expects the harbormaster’s deputies to search the ship and ask questions of the crew. He also warns that Corentyn impounds undeclared goods and that contraband worth more than a gold piece can earn the offending captain 20 lashes.
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Leaning heavily on his Fauchard, Dissa crosses the boat to sit next to the stout Oread on the Sea Sylph. He moves like an old man, despite his young body, smoothly handsome face, and his clear athleticism. He groans slightly as he takes a seat.
"Steinfaust, it's so nice to see you again! Yesterday we were reminiscing about the old times. Now, here we are in the old times just getting to know each other." Dissa speaks smoothly and calmly, continuing with a question. "Now that we're so close to the beginning, can you remind me why you became a Pathfinder? Sometimes my memory fails me, as you well know."
Dissa will lean heavily on his Fauchard, and question the harbormaster or other port authority.
"Will you leave an old man his walking staff? I can certainly peacebond the blade, but I am not as nimble as in my youth. The city looks to have many structural elevation changes."
As the Sea Sylph docks you can't help but notice what appears to be a riot in the nearby Open Slave Market. Interestingly, several of the guards are looking out towards the harbor, rather than inwards at the riot. A Halfling, accompanied by four humans, climbs aboard the ship within moments of docking.
He wears a strained smile and gets down to business quickly, "Attention everyone, I am Tamrin Credence of the port authority, subject to-WILL YOU KNOCK IT OFF!" He stops mid-sentence to yell at his underlings, snickering about his 'authority'. "I am here to receive the manifest and search to ensure no contraband is taken into the city."
Captain Zaerim steps forward, producing the manifest, "As you'll see only archeological equipment on this ship as well as these passengers from Absolom.
Tamrin looks at you while his underlings check the crates and stores, [b]"And what is your business in Corentyn this trip? I will also need a list of declared items."
"I'm sorry, but the law is what it is, and I cannot allow you to carry that into the city without compromising the law. I'm sure you understand."
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Handing his Fauchard to one of the Sea Sylph officers, he returns his gaze to the harbormaster. "I absolutely understand the law. Thank you for your patience. Can you tell me where to buy a few weapons?" Dissa looks for a weapon shop, assuming every inbound boat has to make very similar purchases. I can imagine a predatory sales model would erupt with such a ban on weapons.
Dissa will try to make three swift purchases once he leaves the boat.
"Can anyone direct me to the Museum of History? I think we are to visit the curator, Zefiro Balinger." Dissa inquires of harbormaster and/or shop keep as necessary.
Once underway, Dissa casts Lucky Number from his wand and utters a prayer to his god of madness.
Tamrin nods, verifying everything is in order and gives you that strained smile once again as his goons finish looking through the cargo, "Everything looks good here. Now, you will be unable to unload your supplies until morning because of the...disturbance over in the markets. As well, any who are inclined to Arcane casting cannot cast spells more powerful than a cantrip within five miles of the Esoterium, though you can get a license to do so from said building for a fee of 50 gold pieces. Similarly, divine spellcasters are to register with the Harbormaster's office, and that can be done here with me."
"That's everything. Here is your itemized receipt, and welcome to Corentyn. The museum you asked after is a little more than a mile north-west of here."
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"I'll register that I have 3 divine wands. I am also a holy warrior of Tsukiyo, and his divine influence flows through me. That said, today I cannot yet cast my own spells like I could in the future of yesterday. I assume there is no fee for using divine wands of a Lawful deity?" Dissa asks politely.
With that out of the way, he turns to the Oread. "Steinfaust, can you help me determine a north-westerly track? I'm not very good at navigating, especially in cities."
Tamrin pulls out a small list from his pocket. He quickly scans across it, "No, wands should be good to go, though I would avoid flashing them around town, tends to make the public nervous."
Avoiding the turmoil going on in the Open Slave Market doesn't take too much effort and you are able to reach the Museum of History in short time. Broad marble steps, barely dulled with age and showing only the tiniest of cracks lead to the solid, reinforced double doors of Corentyn’s Museum of History. The building stands in stark contrast to the surrounding structures, most of which are small, cramped, and crumbling. Two city guards stand at the intersection nearby, watching the tradesfolk, fishermen, vintners, and others who make High Quarter their home.
The Museum of History’s maple plank flooring is heavily scarred with the passage of many years and countless visitors, yet it shines from recent and repeated coats of polish. A faint aroma of linseed oil hangs in the air, mingling with the familiar scent of musty, leatherbound tomes.
A man (with a magnificent mustache), hears your entry and comes around the corner calling out to you. "Hello? Is someone there? Ah, new visitors to the museum! Welcome! I am Zefiro Balinger, co-curator of this museum. Are there any exhibits you would be particularly interested in viewing today?"
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"Mister - or Professor? - Balinger," Bozmir starts formally, but with a slight Skald accent. "We are among the first Pathfinders allowed into Cheliax since the ban. As fellow men of history I'm sure most of the items on display will catch our interest. However we are specifically looking for history of the civil war, particularly the Battle of a Hundred Kings, and any details you have regarding fort Corentyn will be most useful to us."
Bozmir tries to be friendly before asking the man, "Co-curator? We were not informed of others. Who else works with you?"
Zefiro loses his smile and becomes noticeably nervous. He walks over to the window checking outside every few minutes. "I wouldn't go spreading that information around if I were you. A lot of people in this city don't like Pathfinders at all, and if any of you have Wayfinders I would suggest not bringing them out into the open." Something outside causes him to gasp and his friendly demeanor goes right out the window.
"Your coming here has disrupted my precarious position here in Corentyn! Now you've endangered not only myself, but one of my closest companions, and the one I consider my co-curator." His complexion becomes sallow and Zefiro seems on the verge of hyperventilating.
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"Don't worry, we had to leave our main weapons on the boat. We aren't really dangerous right now." Dissa says, trying to appease the historian.
"Also we were told you had information about the Emberhold, and that's the only reason we're here. We can leave any time. Should we go to a more private room to chat?"
Zefiro runs his hands through his hair, crushing his hat in his hands. "You don't understand! My friend is in trouble of being 'disappeared' by the Order of the Rack! Mireille is a valuable historical asset." Thinking quickly he puts his hat back on his head, "Listen, I'll help you if you get my friend to a safe area. Head to a business called the Fox Den, tell the doorkeeper Zefiro sent you." He rushes to his office and returns with a scroll and a map. He holds the scroll over his heart, breathing a silent prayer and telling you, [b]"No one will miss this anymore. A scroll penned by an acolyte in the temple where Iomadae studied as an initiate."
spend significant portions of their time penning
scrolls for the temple they serve. Most of these
are simple prayers equivalent to a scroll of
bless, offered in exchange for donations. Not
all initiates are normal, however. Though Zefiro
is unable to confirm the rumors surrounding
this particular scroll, one of the acolytes who
studied alongside Iomadae did indeed scribe it.
The vellum is brittle with age, and the once dark
ink is now a faded red.
This scroll is especially potent thanks to
its connection to the Inheritor. When
activated as a magic scroll, it replicates the
effects of both bless and consecrate in
a 40-foot radius. If an undead creature
or evil outsider is within this area,
the caster can end the consecrate
effect as a free action to grant
every weapon wielded by
creatures affected by the
bless effect the holy weapon
property for 1 round. If activated
by a worshiper of Iomedae, all of the
scroll’s durations are doubled.
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"We didn't mean to," Bozmir says in surprise. It quickly changes to anger, "We were supposed to be allowed in town! We knew you to be an ally of the Society and the only other person we told was the halfling harbormaster."
"The Hellknights are a lawful organisation. They should recognise the authority of Lady Ianareth Alazario. But as typical for the Order of the Rack, they go too far in quelling the arts and sciences. I hope everything in here is approved and nothing will be confiscated or destroyed. At least they aren't those fanatics of the Glyph."
"Mirielle, is she an elf? Did she witness the battle?"
We will help you both, and I'll try to avoid using this artefact except in the most dire circumstance. Stay safe."
Bozmir looks out the front window, searching for approaching guards and side alleys to make a quick, unnoticed exit, while orienting his position on the map.
Zefiro nods, glad that someone was able to deduce just whom Mireille might be. He drops his voice to a whisper, "She was indeed around when Thrune rose to power. She has only recently gotten back. Now please, hurry!"
Your travel takes you out past the docks to a dingier, less scrupulous side of town. It may even be called the red-light district for this city, though many would try to avoid using that term. Finding the Fox Den is rather simple and you don't need to ask anyone for directions, hopefully keeping your trail indistinct.
The smell of raw fish, stale sweat, and old booze permeates this section of the West Drenches. Broken pathways are slick with mud where they aren’t simply flooded. Small wooden buildings are built around narrow canals brimming with dark water that flows swiftly out to sea. Sounds of a busy business district quiet intermittently, at which time the groaning boats and boisterous sailors in the nearby port are just loud enough to hear.
The Fox Den is a modest-sized building with boarded windows and a badly faded sign that depicts a fox hiding behind its own bushy tail. There’s a small stained glass window set into the front door with a patch of fogged white glass through which a woman appears when you knock after finding the door locked.
Sallow cheeks and greasy hair adorn this woman who speaks only through the door to you. "Can't you see we're closed? Go find another establishment's door to darken."