In the heart of the Pathfinder Society’s headquarters at Skyreach, Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng, a wiry old man with a wild gray beard and glinting eyes, sits on a large plush bench next to a finely dressed, full-figured woman who looks as though this entire meeting isn’t worth her time. Dreng warmly greets you and introduces the woman, Lady Gloriana Morilla; the Taldan woman tilts her head slightly in acknowledgement of the introduction, but otherwise makes no move to greet anyone. Oblivious to any social slight on the lady’s part, Dreng begins speaking.
“Recently, a contact from the Low Azlanti embassy in Escadar approached us with an offer. It seems they have discovered a unique relic of Azlanti origin on the Inner Sea’s floor that we have a unique opportunity to add to our collection for study. In return, however, we must deliver one of our catalogued items to Escadar in exchange. The Low Azlanti drive a hard bargain, so we need you to escort a relics broker to Escadar so he can authenticate the Azlanti item and mediate a fair deal on the Ten’s behalf."
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Shilyn listens as Dreng briefs them on the situation as she walks over and pours herself a glass of wine. Walking back to the others, she unceremoniously plops down in one of the high-backed chairs and drapes her left leg over the arm, letting her foot sway. Her eyes keep tabs on Lady Morilla's reaction over the rim of her wine glass, a slight smirk showing on her lips hidden by the wine in her cup.
"Since we have to deliver one of our cataloged items, does that also mean that we'll be escorting that as well as a broker?" Setting her glass on the floor beside her chair, she begins to untie the length of leather holding her long, dark hair back in its normal pony tail and runs her fingers through it to shake it out a bit.
"I'd also be curious as the the means used to pull this object from the seabed. Did they enlist the aid of the mers? Who else knows about the artifact? Do we expect an attempt to aquire it?" Questions come in rapid succession, as is her habit when she gets excited about potential profit.
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Orion leans upon his cane at the end of the couches with a contemplative look on his face. He is having a hard time dealing with the proficiency of his killing... Er... Dispatching of the creatures. It was much different than he had read in the books... Blood was actually real, and quite messy. He hadn't gotten much action as the lead guard of a small town, just a bar fight here and there, and no actual deaths.
He looks at the pamphlet he bought at the society store, So you want to be a mercenary? it doesn't have a chapter for what happens when you keep having dreams of little baby fire speakers that continuously ask you where their daddy is... Or whether or not there comes a point where you just start poking a sword into everything that moves for money... Surely he'll stop by then, right?
He takes another sip from his mug, getting a re proving look from Lore. I know I shouldn't be drinking at this meeting, but this ale is strangely taking all of the regret away. I'm starting to feel pretty good, actually. he blinks his eyes to focus a few times, and then takes another sip... A larger one.
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Amnurs head is tilted forward onto his chest, newly appeared foodstuffs stuck in his substantial beard. His mead-soaked breath comes in and out slowly and evening, the hairs of his beard wafting in and out in time with each breath and his heavy brows hiding his eyes. Any nearby hear occasional mumbles and more than once the name 'Torag' is muttered. It's possible the paladin could be praying... maybe.
Lady Morilla stirs from her silence and speaks in a strong, demanding voice. “I have used some of the Empire of Taldor's most skilled operatives to plant a false crew manifest and course plans with the harbormaster, ensuring that the Aspis Consortium spies who certainly keep an eye on such matters believe we are moving our relic to Escadar on a ship tomorrow morning. This decoy should occupy the Consortium sufficiently for you to travel overland to Escadar with plenty of time to make the final agreement with the gillmen before the Society's window of opportunity runs out.”
At the mention of a map Lady Morilla's face turns into a twisted grimace. "I believe a fellow named Torch has an old smuggler's map for you. Nasty fellow...no need to dress your best when meeting with him. Although that is apparently not an issue for you."
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"We're to travel overland to... ?" she pauses in mid-sentence and sighs, shaking her head. I was sure Escadar was on the Isle of Erran... how are we going to get there traveling overland without taking a boat at some point? Maybe I am mis-remembering... geography isn't my strong point.
"Where do we find this Torch fellow to acquire said map?
"Once you're done here you'll be heading to The Siphons, you'll find Torch down in the sewers with all the other rats."
Seeing the bewildered look on the gnome's face she clarifies that, while much of their journey will be on foot, they will need to be ferried Escadar upon reaching Piers' End. Waiting a few seconds longer than necessary for politeness, Dreng begins speaking again.
"The gentleman who will be traveling with you is a fellow by the name of Nestor Rees. Master Rees is an appraiser and relic broker and friend of the Pathfinder Society; he is a middle-aged man of Garundi descent who has worked with us for some time now. While he tried going on field missions as a Pathfinder in his youth, his weak constitution limits his ability to travel. He has a very sharp mind, however, and the ability to identify genuine Azlanti relics.”
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Taking another sip of her wine, she looks down at herself an with a pout says, throwing a quick wink at Amnur, "Darn, and here I thought these were my best clothes. I mean, they're clean and the blood stain on the sleeve is at least mine, compliments of a not-so-friendly zombie."
She listens to what else Lady Morilla has to say, carefully filing the information away. At mention of the sewer however, she looks over at Lore. "Well, as our old friend Bander would say, 'Looks like everything is going to crap..'"
Turning to Lady Morilla, Shilyn's manner turns suddenly serious. "If I'm correctly interpreting what you're saying, gillmen found a relic and wish to trade it for another in the possession of the Society. We are to guard their relic, and Nester while some of the best Consortium spies hopefully chase down a red herring. Got it." Looking at the others, she taps her lip with her finger a moment, then starts pulling her hair back into its typical pony tail. "Well guys, prepare for the worse."
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Lauranna, who had kept quiet until this point, murmured quietly to Lore, "At least I kept my finery from the last one of these. Of course, no one expects a champion of Iomedae to actually put much effort into such frippery."
Aloud, she said "It sounds as if this will be a straightforward affair, though likely complications will arise. Has this Torch fellow already been paid for his assistance? I hate getting double charged."
The haunts around her blew her hair around, so that it formed a golden halo about her head. It would have been rather impressive, if one hadn't taken the opportunity to slap a rather hefty amount into Lauranna's mouth as she was talking.
"Torch is an ex-Pathfinder and is still willing to help the society now and again. He's a bit rough around the edges but he can be trusted and yes, he has already been compensated."
You set out to meet with Grandmaster Torch, the mysterious information broker, ex-Pathfinder, and leader of the Shadow Lodge faction of the Society, who operates out of a network of subterranean tunnels beneath the water-logged Absalom district of the Puddles. Finding the Siphons takes you though the Puddles' rough-and-tumble, flooded streets and into the sewers below. A gruff half-orc guard grants entry into Torch's audience chamber in the Siphons, a large stone room that has been magically rid of all standing water or even airborne moisture. Torch, a dark-haired, burn-covered man in his late-middle years sits in a large bathtub, and two attendants continually pour cool water over his cursed, festering wounds. His half-orc bodyguards eye you warily as the Grandmaster rises to greet and speaks.
“Well met, Pathfinders. I see you have survived as the Decemvirate's pawns thus far, and for that I commend you. This next task they have for you is more dangerous than the venture-captain may have told you, so let me give you a word of warning. I have made it my life's work to ensure Pathfinder agents are given all the tools they need to return home from their myriad adventures, and this map is the tool I give you. Follow the directions on my map as strictly as you can. Deviate from this path and you may encounter challenges far beyond your abilities. Many would paint me and those who believe like I do as betrayers of the Society, but it is the corps of the organization that I am completely loyal to. Each and every one of you.
“If you believe you have been mistreated by the Ten or their representatives, don't hesitate to let me know upon your return from Escadar. My network of agents and spies if vast, and I am a powerful ally to have on your side.
”Now be off. You have a long journey ahead of you. And remember, don't deviate from this map—it's designed to get you there and back safely!”
As Shilyn pockets the map, she is surprised to find both a hand written note and a sealed envelope in her pocket.
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Amnur keeps trying to look everywhere at once as they're led to Grandmaster Torch and remains expressionless except for a tiny frown at the burns on the mans body. He suppresses a shudder at the pain that must cause, and tries to pay attention. "Don't deviate, yes sir." Amnur bows his head respectfully, anyone who lives with pain that like deserves a little respect at least.
After they've left he walks next to Shilyn, "So? Where are we off to now?"
"One last thing... Torch adds. "The mountain pass can be very chilly...even at this time of year. You may want to be prepared for at least one cold night."
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Tucking the map into a pocket, Shilyn's hand brushes against another piece of parchment. Her eyebrow raises as she pulls out her hand leaving both tucked away.
Looking at Amnur she replies, "Well, if it's cold weather we're to expect, I should think our first stop would be to procure what we need for such."
Turning to the Grandmaster she gives a polite courtesy. "We shall indeed heed your words, Master Torch. Is there anything else you can tell us?"
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Lauranna smirked a little as the heavily scarred man rose from the tub, and then was draped in cloth by his attendants. Torch may have once been a fine specimen of manhood, but he burns had left him an echo of pain that wiped all of that out. She listened as he explained the map, and raised an eyebrow at his talk of "mistreatment". Were there really that many pathfinders that felt disenfranchised by the group they had joined? Were they not aware up front that the organization held one agenda, and one only: the pursuit of power through ancient knowledge and riches?
Lauranna caught herself in the midst of her musings to hear Torch's last comment and Shilyn's reply. "I agree. A traveler's outfitter should have what we need, and most cold weather gear doesn't cost that much."
"Nothing that I can think of...just know that the journey will be long and there might be some surprises along the way. I understand you'll be traveling with Nester Rees. He's a good man...he may not look like much of a fighter these days but he can certainly hold his own when push comes to shove."
Torch regards the Dwarf with a smile. "Some folks will tear down a stone wall by crashing into it while others will do so by removing the keystone. Nestor is of the latter sort...his enemies typically only get the chance to underestimate him once."
"Any outfitter should have what you're looking for...I can't think of a bad one in town."
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"So then.. first stop, an outfitter. We may want to pack some grub to go with us as well," Shilyn offers. "Once we have what we need, let's find Nester and get going. The longer we wait, the more opportunities those spies have of discovering the ruse and tracking us down."
After saying a quick good-bye to Torch, she turns and begins walking back the way they came.
At the agreed upon meeting place you find Nestor Rees waiting for you. Rees is a man of Garundi descent who walks with a cane, claiming he suffers from a malady of the heart that has left his right side weakened. He shares that he tried his hand in adventuring, but never had the knack for it. Rather than waste his talents, he put his extensive knowledge and ability to value items to good use working as an appraiser. He has had no problem earning a living working with the Pathfinder Society since hanging up his adventurer's cloak.
"Fear not my friend...I'll try not to lag too far behind. Luckily I travel light!"
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"Amnur, do you expect to be running the whole way? I am sure Master Nestor will keep up just fine. It's not as if we are on a tight deadline, is it? We'll make it there and back in good time, and that's all. If it takes an extra day, it takes an extra day. "
Lauranna turned back to Nestor with a half bow. "I am Lauranna, called the Stormblessed, a champion of Iomedae. Please forgive my friend, there. Sometimes his enjoyment of life leads his tongue to wag without checking in with his brain first.. But, you'll find no more loyal companion, a few better in a fight."
You begin the nine-mile trek north through the Cairnlands and farm land on the way to the forest.
The Cairnlands, a broken landscape of blood-salted earth and the ruins of countless failed assaults on Absalom's walls, soon yields to open fields and fertile ground. Ahead, a vast forest covers the foothills of a large range of snow-capped mountains. The well-trodden road soon ends at a tall wall of trees, signalling the end of civilization.
As you approach the woods, you see three centaurs patrolling the edge of the woods. As you approach, one of them calls out to you: "Be careful travelers! There is some kind of large cat in the woods causing trouble, and we have been sent to eliminate it."
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Amnur starts laughing with great gusto at Lauranna's question about running the whole way, as if she's just told an amazing joke. But when she explains away his behavior the dwark turns away and crosses his arms, as if offended, but his large hairy ears have turned a distinctly embarrassed bright red.
Amnur keeps up with the others, hanging towards the rear of the group to make sure all is well and Nestor is keeping up. When the centaurs approach and explain Amnur gets quite excited, "By Torag, A cat hunt!? Which direction is it? Perhaps its on the way and we can help out!" He looks beseechingly at the others, the hope evident in his eyes.
"While we were only hoping to warn you we would be glad for your help."
The centaurs are confused by what Amnur passes off as a smile. "I think the Dwarf just had a stroke" they whisper to one another.
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Knowing that her skills at winning people over, even when offering help, are lacking at best, and seeing how the others have fared with their attempts, Shilyn tries a different approach.
Shaking out her hair before retying it, she shrugs. "Well, I'm sure that they're more than capable of taking care of a single cat themselves. They're probably thinking we'd take all the glory and rob them of their boast later. I mean.. if they don't want us to help.."
"Of course...of course" Nestor replies. "We would be honored to provide assistance to the guardians of the forest."
The centaurs provide you with 8 goodberries as well as a masterwork long spear to help you on your journey. Furthermore, Urdel Thunderhoof, the centaur's chief, suggests that the cat that they are hunting is no simple animal, for just two days ago they felt the cat’s presence as if it were herding them into an ambush.
"Please kill this predator if you encounter it; but don't feel as though you need to go out of your way to seek it out. Those berries we provided will hold their enchantment for only 4 days longer; use them wisely if and when you should need them. May the gods favor you on your journey, brave travelers." With that the centaurs gallop off in search of the predatory cat.