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You have been called to the Grand Lodge of Absalom for a briefing. Seated in a small chamber around a darkwood table, various trophies gathered from across the face of Golarion hang from the walls. A monkey-shaped mask with a serpent’s tongue glares out from the center of one wall, a strange halberd with gold rings piercing its thick blade and dragons carved along its haft hangs opposite the monkey mask. You are alone save your fellow Pathfinders, who apparently have been called here for the same purpose.
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Tahltria politely nods her head as soon as the elf finishes playing, but makes no attempt to hide her obvious disapproval as the elf produces a piece of dried meat from her instrument.
No louder than a whisper you hear her answer back with cracking voice, "The sun..shines...upon our meeting...this day. I am Tahltria. Were my voice...as beauti..ful..as yours..I would sing...for all to... hear."
Dressed in a simple green dyed studded leather vest and chestnut brown leather pants she carries on her back a sheathed long thin curved blade. Her arms are bare except for the bracers she wears on each wrist and the intricate tattoos of a flock of flying ravens on her left arm and the tattoo of a large tree with a flock of raven sitting upon its branches.
Her natty jet black hair falls almost to her waist and you can see a thin pink scar running along her throat. She sees you looking at the scar and continues to whisper in her cracking voice "My voice..has..always been...this way. The cut..came many suns...after..my ...first..breath."
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The large orc blood stands with his back to the wall where he can watch the door and those present. He is dressed in the greens and browns of the Mwangi jungles. The only bright colors about him are the tattoos highlighting the many scars on his body.
He says quietly, Sounds like small bird. Need drums for real music. Not bad all the same.
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A sturdy looking fellow with long dark hair turns from admiring the halberd on the wall and grins at the elven ladies. He is rakishly handsome and well-built with a longspear in hand and an worn looking ornamental tankard hanging from his belt. "Aye, sure'n that's a bit o' truth. An' nothin' helps ya ta see the beauty all around like a mug o' ale in yer hand and another in yer belly. Lasses more lovely, lads more 'andsome, an music will rival tha glorious chimes of Elysium." He winks at Evarice. "O' course that might oughta wait til after tha briefing... even if'n tha Lucky Drunk would'nae mind." He grins again and resumes looking around the room, now raising an eyebrow at the odd monkey mask.
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Finally, a huge man wearing creaking leathers marches into the room. He looks at each of you, as if he were appraising a handful of gemstones freshly pulled from the earth, and nods curtly. Some of you know him as Adril Hestram, a longtime Pathfinder and rumored to be the unwitting architect of the famed Katapesh slave riot of 4702. Adril’s physique puts most half-orcs to shame.
“Welcome, friends. We have a serious problem. Skelg the Ripper came to Absalom one month ago. Like many Ulfen warriors he joined the Longaxes, the Taldan Emperor’s personal guard whose duty it is to protect the embassy and Taldan visitors. Skelg also dropped a hefty sum of gold to purchase a manor in the Ivy district, something a Longaxe isn’t paid well enough to do. It is widely assumed that he brought most of his wealth with him from the north—a rumor I know to be true.
“It seems that Skelg also brought a curse with him. In his letter to me, he speaks of lying abed in this miserable summer dying from the cold. Neither physician nor priest has been able to cure his ailment, and there are no signs of disease or poison. Of course, for such a man, there is no greater dishonor than to die in bed instead of in battle.
“Normally, the Pathfinder Society would monitor these events and let the authorities deal with them. However, there are three factors that have drawn our interest. First, Skelg is himself a member of our Society and has asked for our help. Second, he is a personal friend of mine, and finding a sparring partner as worthy as Skelg to replace him would be a trying task. Last, he claims that artifacts of great power are involved, and that we may be able to recover them for the vaults of the Grand Lodge.
“We view this situation as having enough importance to assign you to investigate it. Go to the home of Skelg the Ripper, learn what you can, and do your best to help him. If you find an item that is somehow connected to the curse, either retrieve it or glean as much information as you can about it.
“I trust there are no questions?”
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A rather rotund dwarf runs through the door, his cheeks red as if he had just run a great distance.
"My Apologies. I was still at the banquet serving up dishes. I left as early as I could once my duties there were done." he breathes out his words, stops and then straightens himself up before continuing.
"I have caught the tail end of the briefing and it'll be an honor to assist an honored member of the society. Is there anything else you could tell us about Skelg?"
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An oddly dressed elf finally speaks up. His hair is done up in short but thick spikes, mostly green but grading out to bright yellow at the tips. He wears a mishmash of odd clothing and items, including shiny silver pants and a black and red checked tunic, with accessories both colorful and strange. "I don't know that I have any questions. I'm a performer; my expertise falls far from the areas of mysterious artifacts and strange northern diseases. I am, however, happy to make sure that this group stays upbeat while we investigate! The Society will be proud of our work, I am sure."
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"The...art.i.fact. Did...this..man..know...what..he was...in po.sess...ion of? How..long ago..did..you.receive..word..from him?"
"Which man? Skelg? I doubt it. We have no information on what would be this artifact, actually. Next."
Adril throws a stern look to the Pathfinders.
Is there anything else pertinent that you can tell us about Skelg or the Longaxes? Is he expecting us?
"Where were you when I started to talk?" - he seems very impatient with the questions - "as I told before, the Longaxes are the Taldan Emperor’s personal guard whose duty it is to protect the embassy and Taldan visitors. Skelg sent me a letter calling for our aid, I think he is expecting us, don't you think? Try and keep up with local events if you want to get anywhere in the Society. He lives in Greydog Manor, on Parkview Street in the Ivy district."
"Aye, we'll be happy to aid 'im. Sounds like he could use tha blessin' of tha Lucky Drunk to warm 'is belly. Are ya expectin' tha business over tha funds he should'nae have to be a... ah... touchy subject? May'hap he brought back more'n he bargained for..."
"What? Where do you learned to speak in this way? I can't understand a word you say. "
"I have caught the tail end of the briefing and it'll be an honor to assist an honored member of the society. Is there anything else you could tell us about Skelg?"
"He likes broiled fish."
"That's enough", Adril said. "Go and do your task", with that he leaves the room and you go to the Parkview Street, in the Ivy District.
Parkview Street is true to its name, running the entire length of the Ivy District park. Standing like a tomb in a flower garden, Greydog Manor is easy to find. Six-foot-high walls surround the massive, stone building and an immense iron gate flanked by granite statues of hunting dogs stands open, offering access to the interior. Looking along the street, it is clear that locals give the estate a wide berth. The stone walls seem to give a slight chill to the air, which is not entirely unpleasant on such a hot day. The manor has several windows that can be seen from the street, but all have curtains drawn.
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You walk around the mansion walls till get the entrance. From there, you can see the mansion's courtyard and with a simple check you notice that it is locked. From the inside you can see two northlanders.
The courtyard seems to be cool and shady compared to the street outside. Dead leaves are scattered across the flagstones and the granite steps where two Ulfen warriors stand. Each man wears a chain shirt and a surcoat bearing the Taldan crest and carries the traditional imperial guard long axe.
The guards look at you sternly, and one of them speaks.
“Skelg is ill. He wants no visitors.”
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"We already told that Skelg doesn't want visitors. He is ill. Just get out of here", bellowed one of the ulfens.
They seem uncomfortable with the presence of you and aren't at all willing to cooperate.
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Grams grins, showing missing teeth making his smile rather endearing despite being crooked.
"Peace to all and to both of you." he begins, his tone as if discussing the weather.
"I and my companions have an appointment to see Skelg. We will not be stopped by false guards who have no idea that their uniform is facing teh wrong way." as he brings up a fist.
"These are flesh and blood," he pauses as he looks at them and gives that broken grin once more as he steps up. "like you."
"I must insist you allow us to see Skelg."
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Ahmandé tugs at his vest a bit until he's gathered a small clump of wool between his fingers. He makes a few small motions with his fingers as he balls the wool up, and whispers a short incantation and then blows the wool into the breeze. Shortly thereafter, a gruff Ulfen voice emanates from the direction of the house.
"Just let them in already!"
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Tahltria waits with stonefaced expression hoping the guards make their move soon. Her pulse starts to quicke at the thought of introducing her blade, Dirgesinger, to these impostors, but she fights from drawing the blade and answering it's seductive melody.
"There is..only...TWO...choices..here. Let..us..IN..or..WE..walk...over..your...corpses." There is no remorse in that whisper nor any doubt what will happen next. Although given her voice is barely audible the guards probably do not gather the true meaning of her words from her cracked voice
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"Did you heard that?", you listened one of the ulfens whispering to the other, after a voice coming from nowhere ordered them to let you in.
The fact is that Evarice put those northern in their places. They look to each other and nods.
"Alright. We'll let you enter, but don't tell Skelg that we did it, ok?"
Then, they come to the entrance and opened the closed gate.