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From far and wide across the lands of Golarion, (and further still), the small group of murderous-thieving-hobos known as the Pathfinder Society, a small network of scholars, adventurers, and explorers again sends out the call, looking for volunteers to take up arms and wit, once more unto the breech. Once more. . .
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Having been summoned by Venture Captain Ambrus Valsin, you motley crew of up-and-coming Pathfinders have travelled from an assortment of far of lands to the nation of Druma, to the home of a prominent dwarven patron and highly respected ranking member of the advocate of Kalistrade. Seen inside by one of the many servants, you are escorted to a lavish parlor to wait the host. Within you are offered a number of varieties of wine, from the furthest reaches of the world as well as platters of sweat and exotic meats, fine bread, and other dishes to help you pass the time. The servants also inform you that sitting on the table is a letter awaiting you. As they leave you all to your meal, the letter is obvious, resting upon a platinum platter and simply addressed "Pathfindrs".
Society agents recently learned of a lost, previously undocumented Sky Citadel in what was once Sarkoris, the land now consumed by the Worldwound. As we cannot push into that demon-infested wasteland ourselves, we have recruited dwarven aid in the dangerous expedition. In exchange for military assistance and historical expertise, the dwarves will have the opportunity to reclaim this lost stronghold.
Two weeks ago, Highhelm sent an entourage of diplomats and tacticians north toward Mendev to meet with Venture-Captain Jorsal of Lauterbury to discuss terms and develop a plan of attack. When they failed to arrive in a timely fashion, Jorsal commissioned sending magic to contact Rakuska Ingardam, the mission’s leader.
Rakuska’s return message—cut off due to the magic’s limit—was as follows:
“Passed Xer, paid our way, but attacked and overcome. Razmiri priests hold us for unknown purpose. We are held somewhere near the Glass River at…” One of several possible places they are held is the Gray Revelation Inn, about thirty miles east of Xer—we suspect the Razmiri priesthood uses the site to interrogate prisoners. You must investigate and liberate the three dwarven envoys—if indeed that is where they are imprisoned—and then escort them to Mendev. Accompanying you are two other dwarves who will take the captured envoys’ places if you aren’t successful: merchant Metella Raugar and respected Pahmet mystic Amauhak. The Kalistocrat Temel Passad, a Druman with whom we have dealt in the past, has volunteered a boat to transport you north, and I see little reason why we should not take him up on this offer. Building a good working relationship with one or more influential merchants would be to everyone’s benefit.
Good luck
Ambrus Valsin
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Merisiel saunters agilely down the table, and swings herself cross-legged onto the table next to the letter and the silver platter.
"I'm going to read this letter, sitting on the table. I don't know about the rest of you, but that stuff over there... I know brains when I see it. And that black stuff over there smells like fish eggs - maybe still fresh, but definitely fish eggs. Who serves their guests that stuff?" And she commences reading the letter sitting on the table.
"OK, good. Boat - boats are good. It'll be odd to be a 'paying passenger', but boats are still good. At the tarvern spring the dwarves. Standard jail break. Then on to Mendev. I'm not wanted in Mendev yet, so that's good. Good enough, let's do it."
"Oh - I'm Merisiel. I'll be taking care of all of your dexterous and sneaky needs in this engagement." Merisiel swings back down off the table, and saunters down the other side.
"Say, does anyone know why this 'cheese' is moving? And are those snails from the garden, or did they order them in special?" Merisiel shudders, and avails herself of an apple and a couple of radishes from one of the table centerpieces. "Hard to screw with an apple. sheesh. And radishes, cut up to look like flowers? what's that?" she mutters under her breath.
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A young half elf sits at the table with the rest of the group, his Qadiran robes shuffling behind him. His hair tied back neatly underneath a scarf that is meant to either hold the hair out of his face or to keep him cool, possibly both. Either way it is the fashion trend he has become quite accostumed to. He places his scimitar gently on the table before him. His lips move easily on his unshaven face.
Salaam. Greetings my friends. I am Jacen ibn Myles ibn Valeran ibn Caos blooded of the Rakshasa, Illusionist and trouble shooter extraordinaire, Validated Appraiser and Merchant Prince. he stops for but a moment to read the letter and drink the wine.
Hmmm, a sky citadel, dwarves, demons, the world wound, and the Razmiran Infidels. They certainly don't make our lives easy do they?
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"Hiya Jacen. Salaam, and all.
Yeah - Sky Citadel! How cool does that sound? Unfortunately, I got the impression we're not going there, just escorting the politicals to the meeting to talk about the Sky Citadel.
Maybe if we make a reeally good impression, they'll let us tag along. Or at least not be too strict in preventing us hitching along."
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"Where the hell is this Venture-whatever? I ain't too pleased sittin' in this posh place. The food's terrible," at this the scarred and grating half-elf noisily stuffs some of the brains into his mouth and resumes talking, pieces flying from the corners of his mouth, "and I'm juft tired of thif crap. *GULP* Ahhh...well maybe it ain't too terrible."
He picks his teeth listening for a few moments. His ears perk as he hears mentions of dwarves held in captivity. "Ohhh...this is gonna get ugly for them folks. Name's Grundle but don't really care what you call me." He shifts one of his flails out from under his left buttock where it had moved when he reached for some food. The back of his chair is now riddled with holes from the spiked chain wrapped around his torso.
"Uncouth brute." floats from somewhere in the room. Either Grundle didn't hear it or chose to ignore it as he puts his feet on the table and reclines in his chair.
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After a few more minutes to eat and talk, the pair of richly lacquered doors, and a human and two dwarves stride into the lavish parlor, followed by the two silent servants you saw earlier. The man, clad in immaculate robes of whitest silk, is short and round with a blond oiled beard, and his eyes are alert and amused. He takes a touch of snuff from a golden box and sneezes before saying, “It is a pleasure to welcome Pathfinders to one of my estates once more.
I am, as you may know, . Allow me to introduce — ” One of the two dwarves, a redheaded female in deep scarlet robes, curtly interrupts the man. “We can introduce ourselves, Passad. I am , representing the interests of several Highhelm mercantile consortia. My companion”—she gestures to a dwarven man with leathery skin baked by the sun, his head swathed in a bright yellow scarf—“is , a mystic of the sand dwarves of Osirion.”
[I]Temel Passad, your host speaks up again. "I presume that you have already read your letter and understand your purpose here? If there is anything that I might do to clarify or enlighten you lot, please, do not hesitate to ask. One never knows when it might be too late."
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"For the most part, they will remain below deck, and act as a last resort should you fail. It would not do well if they too where to be captured, leaving us without representation at all. Obviously, if needed, I would hope that you would do your upmost to protect them, and they are dwarfkin, so capable warriors."
Temel continues with further details of the plan, "My vessel, the Abacus, will take them from Kerse, hugging the shore of Lake Encarthan before entering the mouth of the Glass River to pursue your first task: searching the Gray Revelation Inn.
From there, the Abacus will take you the rest of the way to Mendev to deliver myself, Metella, and Amauhak, and hopefully the liberated envoys." The deeply tanned Pahmet mystic notes that keeping the presence of himself and his two companions a secret is the wisest course, given what happened to the earlier team.
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"Very well, I guess wisdom is wasted on the young, but as I am traveling with you, I suppose you might ask me the inevitable questions later. I give you an hour to make what preparations ye may need, then we shall be on our way. The Abacus lays in the eastern harbor, and my crew is aware to greet you when you arrive. We three will remain below deck throughout." After that, Temel, Metella, and Amauhak, follower by the servants retreat from the room.
After wasting an hour doing what you will, you make your way back to the Abacus, Temel's moderately sized ship and begin to board. Besides the three dwarves you hhave already met, there is also a five-man crew or professional sailors, who explain that though they work for Cpt. Passas, they have instructions to take orders from you, (with some obvious exceptions), as you will be above deck and more privy to what is going on, as well as to keep up appearances once nearer to the nation of Razmiran.
Setting sail, the first few days are uneventful, though you begin to get the impression that Metella, Temel, and Amauhak might be cordial rivals, and less than happy to be stuck together, though this is more political and financial differences than outright hatred. All are wise enough not to risk failure over a brawl, and polite enough to at least respect the others, (as much as any dwarves anyway). Finally the crew alerts you that you "will be entering within the nautical borders of Razmiran within the hour, and that they might be stopped at any time by the Razmiran "faith barges", as he points out the mouth of the Glass River, the route you will follow to reach your destination, the Grey Revelation Inn. He also takes the liberty to remind you "Act calm, natural-like. Just pay them, respect their faith, make no trouble, and keep silent about why yur really here ta do."
After a few minutes, Metella comes above deck and beckons you all over away from the crew. "Hey, I realize that Passad has this perfectly thought out and planned, but I spoke with the crew before we left, and I've been through these parts before. I'm sure that we can skip stopping in Xer completely, and jus' get on with our task. you ever met any of these "grey-robed nutters"? Creepy lot. Ya can't trust em. Thy talk a lot about religion, and' mysteries, and say they are helping, but they are just thieves and scoundrel behind a pretty voice and grey mask. They do something to people's min. . ." just then, Temel steps aboard and notices the secret little meeting, "What is going on here?", he says, suspiciously.[/I] "If I knew you less than I do, I might think that you are trying to convince the Pathfinders to skip docking at Xer, and simply press on. it seems a wise plan, and I have no doubt at all, friend, that you could pull it off, but and again, if you where to be suggesting such a thing, what happens if we are stopped? Nay, we should dock and pay the rather exuberant tribute, and be done with it. That way, we at least have the record of paying the tax should we run afoul of any faith barges later. It wastes precious time, of course, but better to play it safe." he says with utter confidence, also taking out 2 platinum pieces ad handing them over for the tribute.
Metella responds with "And if they search the boat, and ya know they will. 'Sides, not sure they have even come up with a good story jus' yet as to why they are here. And the faith barges are gonna give us trouble even if we show them the proof we have already paid tribute. hey always do. Greedy bastards."
Afterwards, both turn to look at each of you, as if expecting the Pathfinder agents to decide.
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"Well that sounds simple. It's a toll. If you don't pay the toll, eventually the toll collectors break you knees. I like my knees, so we pay the toll. Besides, a couple of hours in port might give us some opportunity to find out some information about the Gray Revelation Inn."
"I'm not a fan of toll collectors, or of determinedly priestly types. Toll collectors break your knees. Priests have god-mojo that can be very scary. But if we're going to try to bust some dwarves out of priest-jail, it makes sense to scope out the jailers - or at least their spiritual brethren."
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"I think we should offer to pay a reasonable toll. If it is unreasonable, perhaps Gorum will pay it for us..."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Passad slightly smiles at his minor social victory while Melleta shrugs at being outvoted. Before either can respond, however, the captain calls out over his shoulder that it's time for everyone to get into their places, as there is an open pier and the city of Xer is in view. Passad and Metella retreat below deck to their hiding places, and its up to you. After a few minutes, a group of Razmiran's Guards begin to wave you to port, and toss over a thick rope to secure your vessel to the dock. They quickly look you over, and you see three men and a wolf. The wolf appears more wild than tame, and all three men have loaded crossbows in hand, and a short sword at their belt.
"What is your business in Razmiran? How many souls are aboard?"
The wolf begins to sniff, but is still on the pier and not the ship.
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Ah friends why do you look so down. Tell you what on top of the normal toll her is some extra money so you can enjoy a nice ale after a long days work. Like my great prince says we are here so that he might establish some trade contacts. I hope this toll is worth your while.
I give them an extra 5gp with there toll.
Diplomacy: 1D20-2=12
Bluff if needed:1D20+0=19
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Grundle looks up queasily from the side of the boat when asked about how many souls are on board, "I ain't exactly a soul...*hnffurgggh*" Grundle's stomach contents feed the nearby gulls, "but I'm alive an' on the ship...gettin' off the ship now."
He starts to head towards the railing, but notices the looks of those on the docks he says, "Of course...if that's OK with you lot..."
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The closest enforcer catches the small purse and begins to hand it off to the other whence remembers to check the coins. Popping it open, his eyes practically explode in his head, and he turns to signal the other guards. The other guard near him puffs up a bit, speaking in a louder, more authoritative voice, "Extend your gangplank, we are comming aboard, . . to search for any hostile religious materials."
The enforcer on the other dock levels his crossbow in your direction, ready to fire if there is any trouble while the other two step closer to your boat.
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'I am not the front on this. I'm a girl. and an elf. And not good at word-cons. If I open my mouth I'll foul the play. So hush up, self!' Merisiel freezes more firmly in the bow, schooling her exterior to not betray the bubbling torrent of gutter-snipe cant battering the inside of her gritted teeth.
'Must. be. a. team. player.'
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When they draw there weapons on us Daveak draws his crossbow and keeps it at low ready saying"I dont like weapons pointed at me with for no reason."and waits for someone else to speak. If know one speaks then he will shoot the first person to try and board ship.
Rolls. Diplomacy 8
(IF NEEDED)
Initiative: 16 4Dex
Attack roll: 23
Damage:3