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Where am I? I used to be over there, looking at a map, but now I am here. Looking at nothing. So much white space. We are they? Mr. Trask and his "Poochie, hit it harder than that or we are all going to die? and Mr. Hairlips, "Why yes, that is real. Want to take a closer look?" and my friend that talks to animals with the lizard that can walk up-side-down and down-side-up, and Mr. Strong Brute, who sings like a nightingale on a cold winter morning. I think that the little man that burps fire will be here, or maybe the little man that rides a dog and keeps talking about killing evil. He and I will be friends. And most importantly, where is my pretty wolf friend? Is she still wearing the duck bow that I had made for her? Is she well fed, and brushed twice a day? I cannot wait to see them all.
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A strange Keleshi man meanders through the halls of the Grand Lodge taproom, whistling an old wives' tune. On his back, a billowing white cloak bears the holy symbol of Desna. HIs feet move incredibly fast for a man so armored, and in but a few short moments he is at the bar.
"I believe you have a missive for me? Yes, thank you dear. No, water not wine. Do not concern yourself with my choice of libation. You will still receive your tip. Yes. Of course. Thank you for the note. Now, let me see here... blah blah 'crazed half-orc is nowhere to be found'... blah blah 'group of pathfinders require help'... blah blah... 'may have encountered this threat before' blah... blah blah 'slavery' blah... " Haafiz downs his water in one long pull, "Well, we can't have slavery now, can we? Well, at least not when it isn't sanctioned. Now, where are these Pathfinders I'm supposed to meet?"
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"Ahh. Ophiuchus is it? What a ... nice name. Here, you seem to have a little meat pie on your face. Let me clean it for you." Producing a handkerchief from his sleeve, he brushed the pie crumbs off the nagaji's face. "Ophiuchus, I am sorry to tell you, but this is not ... for you. You see you are needed elsewhere. I have a very important mission. One only someone of your ... talents can complete. See this scroll. No it is not an illustration of a ... duck. But instead it is a very important missive. It must reach .... Master Zey. Yes. I know he doesn't ... like you, shall we say. I know that he was ... mean to you. Yes. But it is ... important. Only you can ... do this. Quickly my friend."
The nagaji departs with all haste. The tall elf wipes the crumbs from his seat, and gracefully falls into it. There is a glass of burgundy colored liquid in an oval balloon goblet. The elf swishes it around, brings it up to his nose, and inhales deeply. Holding his breath for a five-count, he slowly exhales. "Ahh yes, peppers and elderberries. Perfect."
He slowly tips the goblet to his mouth and sips gently, swishing the liquid around in his mouth before opening his mouth and allowing the wine to slip back into his throat.
Good to be back
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Sweet Desna... 'peppers and elderberries'? Please don't let this be 'Lord' Finarin Moonstep... have mercy on your servant...
"I am Haafiz al'Mahir, fellow Pathfinder," the white-robed Keleshite greets Finarin, "A pleasure to meet you. Would you happen to be Lord Finarin Moonstep?"
Please say 'no', please say 'no'...
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A half bark, half howl echoes through the bar.
Is that a duck? It is a duck! I will tell it that I am here. It will fly away and I will chase it. I love ducks!
Near the door a large dog can be seen, bouncing straight up in the air while barking incessantly and circling a departing Nagaji warrior who is wearing a magnificent duck tabard.
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Really, I must have a chat with the powers that be. Can we not find better material for Pathfinders than this?
"Ah yes. i am Lord Finarin Moonstep, of Kynoin. Haafiz al'Mahir, it is a ... pleasure to meet you. Can I offer you some .... oh, water I see. Well. Can I have them make it ... colder for you?"
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From the hallway the Pathfinder can hear "What a most splendid animal you are. Your coat is so soft and and pretty. I could brush you for hours. Here let me scratch you. Oh you like that, oh that is where you want the scratch. Oh lick my face. Hahah. Sir Small Man, your dog is so loving and caring, and you are most lucky. It was so nice to finally meet you. May your lance kill more bad things that need killing. And please save those poor men. They need you. We all need you Sir Small Man that kills Evil. Now I have a very important letter to deliver. One Lord Moonstep gave me. He does not trust anybody to deliver his letters. Only special warriors that can kill dead things. Bye"
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From another area in e bar, the sounds of old friends drinking can be heard. Missing, however, are the curses I the name of the Strong Man, and libatious blessings by a drunken priest. Rumor has it that the two were off in the north... And a certain ninja was following them... trying to stay sober.
They hear tell that the trio, sometimes joined by an older man, may be up in Numeria... No, they are somewhere in the River Kingdoms? No! Varisia is where they were seen.
Rumor has it that a foray into the Tapestry was successful... Somehow... Perhaps they drank the dwarves there into submission. Back in time? The Grand Lodge attacked? again?
How were these three everywhere???!
No wonder they weren't there to be assigned with the rest of their regular teams. At least they should have stories to tell... As will Lord Finarin, and the team he is inevitably going to be asked to lead!
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Luna licks the nagaji's hand and face, then bounds into the taproom, looking for a familiar face. Not seeing any, she paces around the room, stopping to pick up dropped morsels or clean up random puddles of spilled drinks.
Off in the distance, the silver-haired, muscular canine catches a scent. Freezing in place, her ears perk up, and her tail is slightly raised. She waves her nose back and forth, sniffing the air. In a moment, her nose is planted on the floor, sniffing back and forth, bumping into people, taking her under chairs and tables, and circling back.
A cat. I can smell it. There is a cat here... Where is the cat. I will find the cat and chase it. This will be as much fun as chasing the duck. When I barked at the duck the nice lizard-man petted me. This will be the same. I will bark and chase the cat and someone will pet me. Master will be so proud.
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A thick, barrel chested halfling tromps into the room.
Sure is nice to take some time and have a drink. I don't get out of that armor nearly enough.
Pooka takes in the entirety of the scene in the taproom for a moment.
Holy Moly... those boys back in Mendev would feel as though they'd died and gone to heaven if they ever made it here for some R&R. Look at that siren over there... Yea. Good thing I can control myself, or this could get awkward. Maybe if I play my cards right, I might not be all that lonely tonight.
After only a short time, he sees a feline server walking back towards the bar with a tray full of empty glasses and mugs, and favors her with a bright smile.
"Pardon me, mi'lady. I must say, those leathers look simply smashing on you. I bet you spend the whole evening fending off the hordes of men and some women." Pooka says with a bow. "Do let me know if you ever need help defending your honor, though I would suspect you are quite capable of handling yourself." he finishes with a wink.
"Alas, I am distracted. Would you be so kind as to direct me to the table of Lord Finarin Moonstep? He is expecting me."
"Finarrrin is that way, small man," the server says slyly, "And if you keep yourrr hands to yourrrself, I'm surrre the horrrdes will be similarrrly able to restrrrain themselves. Oh, and when you get therrre, ask Lorrrd Moonstep to tell Cyrrrus 'Purrrr' frrrom me." Despite rebuffing him, the waitress 'accidentally' slides her tail under the much smaller halfling's chin when she turns around to return to her duties.
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Finarin spies the Halfling and his canine mount enter the bar. He lithely strides over to him. ”Ahh, Pooka. You come … highly recommended. I have heard of your many … exploits. Sailing down rivers, and righting the … wrongs of the crusade. And unless I am mistaken, you are an initiate of the Order of the Paw? Very nice to travel with a man of … pedigree. And this must be Luna.”
Finarin taps his palm, rather than pats, Luna on the top of her head. He quickly wipes his hand on his hidden kerchief, before looking once more at Pooka.
”This is Haafiz al'Mahir. Newly met … but he seems quite capable.”
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Look, there is master. I will be next to him when he talks to people.
Trotting across the room to join her her mast as he makes his way to a table, Luna dutifully moves to the heel position, just to Pooka's left and behind him. Her shoulders, at the normal standing position are slightly above Pooka's, making her seem bigger than she is by comparison to the broad shouldered halfling.
The position of her snout is right near Pooka's neck, which now carries the faint scent of Sheeba.
"Ruff ruf ruuuoooooo!!!"
In an instant Luna turns tail and heads back in the direction Pooka came from, knocking over a chair, upending a drunken dwarf who was probably mostly upended anyways, and leaping through the middle of a harp, mid strum, baying loudly as she bowls through the taproom.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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The cat woman is in sight as Luna barrels over some poor fop proposing to a barmaid he just met 2 minutes ago.
ITS A CAT AND A WOMAN! THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY EV...
The sharp retort of her master's voice causes the dog to stop so suddenly she skids three feet on the floor before turning around. Paws and wooden floors aren't the greatest combination, and so Luna's stride is nearly full tilt before the pads of her feet find purchase on the floor, launching her straight back to Pooka, to the dismay of the dwarf who thought he had stood back up, but now finds himself staring at the ceiling again.
With a final thud, Luna skids to a stop in a perfect sit position, presenting herself to Finarin as Pooka shakes the elf's hand.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"A pleasure to meet you as well, Lord Finarin. I shall endeavor to live up to the high praise. This is Luna, the sometimes distracted, but always obedient dog, and my loyal mount."
Turning to look over his shoulder at the havoc, Pooka grimaces.
"no chasing cats indoors. Sit. Stay."
Pooka crawls up to one of the elevated chairs as Luna grudgingly takes her place beneath his feet.
"I am of the Order of the Paw. Typically my order focuses on halfling settlements, but my station allows me to travel extensively with the pathfinder society. I've a kelish friend, well, his parents were friends of my parents one upon a time, who has spoken very highly of you as well. I can't wait to find out what he meant when he called you a Lord of lightning."
"A pleasure to meet you as well, ah, Haafiz? Is it? Did I pronounce that right?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Grrrr" Sheeba growls at Luna with feline ferocity as the dog does an about face. The waitress turns to Pooka and snaps, "Keep yourrr pet underrr contrrrol orrr he'll no longer be allowed in the Lodge taprrroom." This time, her tail does not stray towards the halfling's chin as she departs.
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"Haafiz it is, and you have pronounced it as well as anyone from Western Avistan can," the copper-skinned man in Desnan robes bows deeply, "It is good that I have found you. We are going on a mission together. I bring luck and a certain fleetness of foot. Also, just this morning, I found ten thousand gold pieces at the foot of my bed that I didn't even remember I had! Any suggestions on what I should spend it on? I was thinking perhaps something to make me even faster..."
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"BEER!" a deep voice shouts immediately after the dark arms have pushed the tavern's door open. "Amaranti back. Amaranti thirsty." The gigantic Garundi marches straight away to counter and slams a few coins to the counter. The bartender takes the coins and serves a pitcher of cold beer, which Amaranti drinks in one go. A belch and a deep sigh is followed by the sound of empty glass hitting the counter. "Another!"
Worst thirst now sated, Amaranti turns around and for the first time surveys the clientele. "Hello Sheeba-cat! Hello Finarin-elf! How you been? Why is dog running and barking? Is dangerous? "
In Garund, dogs aren't exactly welcome animals. They do sometimes hang around in bars and restaurants, but the proper reaction is to kick them or shoo them. But here people sometimes keep such animals as pets or feed them. So it's best to ask first before kicking.
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"Ahh yes, Gunari. So glad to .... see you once again. Time has passed slowly for me. Much and many ... things to accomplish. But good to be back. Any idea when we should... report?"
Knowing his companions fondness for strong drink, Finarin is hoping the two new editions to the team might help him keep the others at a more level head.
The elf chuckles inwardly at the though of Luna meeting Kaisharga.
"Amarrranti!" purrs Sheeba fondly, "Rrreally good to see you again. Yourrr companions arrre that way. Please feel frrree to come overrr and see me afterrr, though. We'll see if we can't find something... prrroductive... for those muscles of yourrrs to do."
The svelte cat woman moves in close and softly strokes Amaranti's biceps with her sharp feline claws, leaving small marks on his skin that soon raise and redden. With a sly wink, she disappears into the crowd, her slender hips swaying from side to side in exactly the way to present Amaranti with the best view.
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"Ambrus Valsin is a punctual man, Lord Moonstep," notes Haafiz, "I'm sure he will be on time. I think the missive said midday. Perhaps we'd best have an early lunch in anticipation of a long... long... long briefing." The Keleshite gives a broad grin, showing that he somehow knows how the companions feel about that particular venture captain.
"A pleasure to meet you, Amaranti," Haafiz shakes his hand when Sheeba is done with her greeting, "I see that you are just as big as I was told. Very impressive to see someone so gifted with the magical arts to be keeping in such good physical shape. I can't wait to see your famous lance in action!"
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Amaranti grins, and takes a few running steps, trying to grab the cat woman's butt. But Sheeba easily avoids the groping attempt, and dances away among the crowd. Smile still on his lips, the Garundi turns back towards Finarin. "Gunari? Where? Amaranti see no Gunari here. Are you drunk too much, elf-friend?"
"Good to meet you too, small man Pooka. And you, Haa-fiz. We go mission together?" Amaranti greets the two with his trademark handshake, which tends to leave people rubbing their hand and making funny faces. Far from immune to flattery, the Garundi flexes his biceps in response to Haafiz's comment. "Ha, Amaranti not spend much time with books. Plenty time to keep in shape! And yes, small man Pooka, lance is very good weapon. Can use mounted and can use on foot. Amaranti see Pooka use it too. Maybe we 'joust' together some time? But Kaisharga is away now. People in city not always like Kaisharga, good to keep it hidden. And is good for Kaisharga to rest, it have Mummy Rot."
"But is much better now," he adds after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
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As a clock chimes the hour, Ambrus Valsin opens the door to admit his guests then resumes his seat next to a grey-eyed woman wearing the robes of an academic.
“Please seat yourselves quickly so we can begin. This is Lady Darchana
Madinani, archdean of Absalom’s premier school of the arcane, the Arcanamirium. She’s has come to the Pathfinder Society on delicate business.”
Lady Darchana stands up, and walks to Amaranti. "Good day, Amaranti. How is Kaisharga doing these days? I am glad to see that the day is treating you well."
She then moves to Finarin. "I hear it is Lord Finarin Moonstep now. That is good to hear... perhaps Lady Gloriana's mission to restore the aristocracy is having more affect outside of Taldor than within. I hear that they are still very humanocentric, and still more concerned about their balls and operas than they are of being a positive influence in the world."
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Pooka shuffles on his feet, uncomfortable with sitting when fully armored. Luna, his precious mount has taken her regular place, curled up on the floor at his feet. Her chain barding coils in bunches where her body presses against the impeccably clean flooring, and her soft, rythmic breathing is hardly heard above the conversation in the room.
This is a group befitting the society. What a wide variety of agents here. This should prove an interesting excursion, despite the surly beginning with Valsin. And the Archdean... Magic isn't much my style, but this lovely lady is easy on the eyes. Shouldn't be to difficult to pay attention to her! Even if I couldn't get that Siren, Serena? Selena? Anyway... never could catch her eye at the tavern. Alas... Another time. Back to business, it looks like Valsin is going to say something again...
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"Greetings, Lady Darchana," Haafiz bows low, as only a true Keleshite can manage, "May Desna brighten your day and bring you only good tidings. I fear, however, that your presence here means you are to bring us ill news. Please, share it with us that we may begin setting whatever issues bring you here to rights."
Haafiz smiles, hoping he has pleased Lady Darchana with his obsequiousness. He knows only two ways to deal with nobility: grovel before them or slit their throats. Over his stay in Absalom he has done much of the former and thus far restrained himself when tempted towards the latter.
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An old man walks through the overcrowded room, skirting the tightly packed tables and brushing between swaying patrons, until his eyes finally fall upon a table of friendly faces. His aged eyes spark to life at recognizing close friends, and a smile cracks his lips. With one hand he pulls out a spare chair and casually waves a greeting to the others with the other.
The old man is now smiling fully.
Oddly, his trusty hat is nowhere to be seen as he adjusts his position and scoots closer to the table, and it appears the knotted tangles of his hair have taken full advantage for their new found freedom by continually falling across his brow. With a long, exaggerated motion, Ibid brushes the hair away with the sleeve of his jacket and nods to those gathered at the table. Even for his advanced age, there is something slightly different about Ibid, a subtle, almost imperceptible air of confidence and composure.
"It is good to see you again, my friends," he says warmly. "It's been far too long... Lord Finarin Moonstep." he takes in the sight of the elf. "The title suites you very well, my friend. I can honestly say that I have always thought of you thusly." Looking to the towering Garundi across the table. "And you, Amaranti, I hope you have been well these past months and aren't letting Kaisharga have too much slack." He laughs under his breath for a short span, then turns to take in the other two new companions, his mind sizing them up to the colossal shoes they were actively trying to fill.
I would not want to be the ones filling in for Gunari, Lort, and Cyrus, he thinks to himself, but he does not verbally address the men, and instead bows slightly to each, while being sure to fully lock their gaze and pay them the courtesy of acknowledging their presence. For those of you that don't know me, please feel free to call me, 'Ibid'. I'll most likely be the one taking notes through this whole affair, that's my self prescribed roll with this lot."
Next the old man turns to Lady Darchana, rises form his chair long enough to bow deeply to her, and the resumes his seat. "My Lady," he says, just after his bow. "It is lovely to see you again. I trust you have been well."
Lastly, Ibid aids to the group as a whole, still beaming at seeing his friends once more. "I would love to stop by the school," he says, in answer to a question, his tone lighthearted. "Though as a student, of course. I would never claim to be an expert, at anything. I fear my mind is not what it once was, and these youngster, could easily surpass my knowledge, even on my best days."
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Haafiz leans over and whispers to Pooka, "I sure hope our impending adventure does not turn into a lecture. That man can talk!" Haafiz suddenly becomes aware that he is being rude. Abashed, he returns quietly to his seat to listen to what his betters have to say.
I wonder if Ishbaad truly is as knowledgeable as they say. I am no slouch when it comes to information. Let us see if I cannot show him up some time on this assignment.
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"Hello, Ibid. What happen? Where is hat? Amaranti never seen you with no hat!" It is a long time since Amaranti had seen the old man, and he almost didn't recognize him. How time passes quickly. But it is good to have at least part of the old crew back, even if Cyrus, Lort and Gunari are missing.
"Good day, Lady. We is good" The Garundi tries to greet as polite as he can. Of course, having a beer pitcher in hand does take away certain professionalism from his posture. Academics are difficult conversation company in Amaranti's opinion, even if this one is already familiar. So best minimize the conversation, and hope she doesn't use too difficult words.
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Pooka stifles a chuckle as Haafiz whispers to him. "I have the advantage of this full-faced helm, and a mount to carry me forwards. No one will know when I nod off..."
Seriously though... These men have a long relationship, built by times both good and bad. I may be on the outside looking in with this group... At least until Luna and I can prove our worth on the battlefield...
Pooka subconciously reaches down with his foot to rub a particularly itchy spot on Luna's side.
"I had heard rumor that another halfling was a part of this legendary group of agents? I should like to meet him. It is always good to spend time with one's own kin."
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"Miro is indeed legendary," the old man responds, his head turning slowly to observer the room, as if he hopes his halfling friend will appear at that very moment. "And you two when nothing to worry about... That is, if you are worried at all. You two will do well, of that I have no doubt. In fact you'll probably end up saving my skin before this task is over," Ibid adds, still looking about the room.
"And please, feel free to tell me to be quiet when I drone on, as I am want to do," he says, a slight smile curling at the corner of his lips.
Pulling his focus back to the table, Ibid looks to Amaranti, then shifts his gaze upward to his own hatless head. "I leant it to Cyrus, while he is out on his travels. I fear he has much to think about... though a hat is merely a hat, and provides little solace, I do hope it helps a little."
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Seeing Ibid walk in, Finarin looks less sour. Ahh, almost all my old friends are here. Now where is Miro? I hope he did not get into trouble while we were off. I told him to contact me should he need my assistance. I would never forgive myself if something happened to him, or any of them for that matter.
"Ibid. So nice to see you once again. After the .... briefing, though it is never brief, is it?, we can see my milliner. I am sure she can find something to ... fit your style." The elf ends in a tight smile, worry of his small friend creeping into his thoughts.
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The 'other' halfling comes waltzing in, his eyes widening in surprise and delight at seeing another of his race in the room. He steps forward boldly, inspecting the heavily armored Pooka, not so much sizing him up as taking him in. "Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes! This stigma halflings have that we can't fight worth a damn is sure to meet its doom when you take it on, friend!"
"Hey Finarin, my friend, how are you? Sorry I'm late, I was busy securing some advantageous deals for our mutual friends. I was too far along and didn't want to muck it up by walking away right when they were going to sign, you know." He winks at the elf, nudging his with his elbow...instead of in the ribs, he connects with Finarin's thigh.
"How is everyone else? Any tales to share? Who are our new friends?"
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Lady Darchana turns to Miro, "Good day, Master Ammars. I hope that your... deals... have been treating you well. Perhaps, if you have some time after you return from your mission, you would treat my household with an evening of your song."
She then turns to the group, and says, “As Second Spell Lord of Absalom, I continually investigate magical attempts to attack our home. The Pathfinder Society recently aided one of my investigations by capturing a disguised Okeno slave ship used for several months to transport various unfortunates to Absalom for sale as slaves to the city’s noble families. Normally this would be legal, yet it seems someone has marked each of these slaves for use as divination foci. I can’t ignore the threat posed by such an insidious spy network. With the capture of that ship, we’re now in an excellent position to strike back at the hidden mastermind behind the slave-scrying.
“Know that I do not come to the Pathfinder Society lightly. I am taking on a calculated political risk by asking you to handle this investigation for me. But my long friendship with your master of spells Aram Zey has given me confidence in the abilities—and discretion—of Pathfinder agents.
“Using my own spells, I acquired an image of the slaver: a humanoid woman wearing a heavy veil and peering into a mirror. Her clothing is common in Kelish fashion, and I could sense her location was somewhere underground on Stonespine Island.
“Although we could pursue conventional means of tracking down the slavers, I have taken measures to ensure our quarry does not see you coming, and I would appreciate a similar effort from you. I propose disguising yourselves either as slaves for sale or possibly the slavers selling them. If successful, you need only allow our enemy’s agents to escort you to their hidden stronghold. Once inside, it should be a modest challenge for you to escape and take their leader by surprise.”
Lady Darchana pauses for emphasis. “Your goals are to capture the veiled spymaster and to bring the scrying mirror I observed back to
Absalom for further study. If the spymaster dies before she is brought here, that would be regrettable but also understandable.”
“Before you get too concerned,” Ambrus adds quickly, “it isn’t the Society’s practice to sell our field agents into slavery. We’re sending you with a reliable cover story and a magical edge we can discuss in a moment. This isn’t just because it’s a dangerous assignment; we also found the name ‘Muhlia’ associated with the captured Okeno ship. It’s not a common name, but if haven’t kept up with recent history, I can understand why you may not remember her. Pasha Muhlia al’Jakri was an associate of ours who represented Qadira’s interests to the Pathfinder Society. Three years ago, she departed following very ugly circumstances in Taldor and hasn’t been seen since. If it’s true that she’s building a spy network in Absalom, we need to head off the threat she poses to the society before she can strike.”
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Pooka bristles at the thought of even posing as a slave, but does well to hide his disdain in front of his superiors.
"Well with my kin and I here, I would say the two of us are pretty unlikely to pass as slavers. You'd have a better chance of convincing a dwarf he is a gnome than a crime ring that a halfling is a slaver."
Memories of viscous racial slurs being thrown at him assault his mind for a moment before he shuts the voices out.
"Luna could easily pass as a guard animal should the others pretend to be the ones bringing Miro and I in as slaves," Pooka invountarily seeths at the mere mention of pretending to be a slave. "But how would we convince them that I am such, while still wearing my armor? Something tells me that in order to properly pull this off, we may need some magical intervention." He says, nodding to Ambrus in deference to the magical edge he mentioned.
"And since it sounds as though we are likely on a mission to apprehend a formerly disgruntled Society Leader, I would like to know why she was rendered such, and the manner in which she left." Pooka states, more of a polite demand than a question.
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Pooka's eyes get a twinkle in them when he smiles to greet Miro. He walks over and hugs him as if they were brothers, long separated by time.
"It is good to meet you Miro! While I have grown fond of my overly-large friend Xull, it will be nice to chat with someone who speaks on my level, if you catch my literal meaning. Hah!"
"With some trademark luck, hopefully we will do our best to prove that stigma wrong. Luna and I can be quite a sight when our banner catches the wind, moving at breakneck speeds across the field of battle." Pooka smiles and claps Miro on the back again before turning his attention back to the front of the office.
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Ambrus Valsin excitedly rubs his hands together as a proud grin cracks his businesslike expression. “Thought you’d never ask! I’ve brought one of our experiments out of development for a field test,” he explains while planting a boot on an unremarkable cedar chest. “This is a magic chest warded in much the same way as our craftspeople sometimes enchant small pouches. From the outside, it’s nonmagical and holds whatever you put in it as expected. However, if you speak the right command word before it’s opened, it instead accesses a secret, extradimensional space that can hold several hundred pounds of gear. It’s yours to use on this trip and should help smuggle most of your gear through Okeno. The forged paperwork we’re sending with you notes the chest is part of the shipment.”
Valsin demonstrates the chest’s use and command word. “Anything else you want to bring needs to be something you can hide on your person and keep hidden.”
Lady Darchana nods her approval and adds, “I can also shrink one essential tool or weapon for each of you. It should provide you enough of an edge in breaking out and recovering the rest of your gear.”
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"I am certain I could do a good job impersonating a slave who wants to be free," says Haafiz, "But I could never even pretend to enslave someone. If we need to be slavers for this mission, then I must respectfully withdraw my services. Otherwise, though, it would be my my extreme pleasure to bring this Pasha Muhlia al’Jakri to justice."
The years since my emancipation have not dulled the edge, it seems. All this talk of going to the slaver's block fills me with... well, it is best not to dwell on such things. Remember the mission. Remember that it is all to bring down a slave mistress. 'Regrettable but understandable'. Words to live by. Words to kill by.
"One tool, yes?" Haafiz asks when he is broken from his thoughts by further mission intelligence, "You could not go far wrong with providing us each with the key to our chains. Desna will provide the rest. However, I think my Tian nodachi would be ideal. It can slice through chains without too much effort required."
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"It grow back? " Amaranti asks, suddenly very worried, and hugging his precious lance. The chest does look awfully small for the long weapon, but Amaranti has heard of magical items capable of holding much more than appears on the outside. So this might work.
"Amaranti make good slave. Or slaver. Both good, Amaranti not mind either. Kaisharga keep hiding in planes, no need disguise."
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Turning to Haafiz, "My new friend. I ... understand your discomfort with what we are about to do. All of us" Finarin jestures to the assembled Pathfinders, "Have done things, and will continue to do things that will make us ... uncomfortable. Yet this is for the greater good. To be believable, me thinks that you and Ibid would be the perfect candidates for this ruse. My heritage, and Miro and Pooka, sadly along with Amaranti, seem the most plausible to be salves. Or rather ... not the slavers. To ask so much of you seems ... wrong, but when weighed against the outcome. Well you can do a great service to the ... society and Absalom if you were to reconsider. Know I ask this of you not ... lightly as we all carry the burdens of our former life.". Finarin ends in a breathless huff. Looking each of them in the eyes he nods as if to bolster their spirits. "We can ... do this."
Placing his scimitar on the table to shrink, he begins to place his equipment in the chest.
"Now to formulate a ... plan" Grinning micheviously, Finarin looks to Gunari for a drunken plan of folly, or Cyrus for a plan of daring, but seeing neither, looks to his Soverign Court companion, Miro.
Looks like old fashion subterfuge and a honeyed tongue
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everything else for them.
Lamashtu, and are known to kill and eat sentient creatures. Some exceptionally aggressive, strong, and clever gnolls are known as flinds, and they typically rise quickly to the top of their pack hierarchies. They’re known for using flail-like weapons called flindbars.
Valson says to the question about the locks. "We'll be giving you a slave's outfitl, and outfitting you with a slave collar, which is a metal band with a keyed lock. You'll need to make sure they can pass casual inspection, however. I would suggest hiding any symbols of organizations known for freeing slaves, such as holy symbols of the Drunken Hero, or the Sword and Eagle of Andoran."
"Your animal will be noted as part of the merchandise, if you desire."
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Haafiz looks down to his Liberty's Edge brooch holding his cloak together, and pulls it off. The Keleshite looks like he might be sick, but closes his jaw firmly together as he places the brooch gently down upon Valsin's desk. He takes his cloak - spun of purest white cloth and emblazoned with the symbol of Desna - from his shoulders and puts it next to the brooch.
"This cloak is magical, so I think it best if we dye it rather than leave it behind," says Haafiz, "Unless you have another one I could use in the meantime."