SCENE: Afternoon, Magnimar, the City of Monuments...
The sun begins to drop in Magnimar, the City of Monuments, with the afternoon plagued by a hazy sky and a sun struggling to burn through. Mist clings to the harbor as you leave behind the Shore and begin your walk through the Summit, heading for the northernmost edge of the city's Alabaster District.
This is not a place you frequent. Some of the citizens on the streets stare at you, aware of your... lack of affluence.
The Alabaster District is home to Magnimar’s richest and most affluent citizens. Aristocrats, guild masters, and anyone rich enough to afford such a lifestyle dwell in the grandiose villas and mansions that line the streets upon which you walk. You see few shops, taverns, and the like here, with those that do exist typically catering to small clienteles—practically secret societies, these establishments generally do not open their doors to non-members.
Your encounter several other strangers to the district as you ascend from the Marble District's lovely byways onto the the northernmost end of the district, the Stylobate's guards stopping you before a series of marble-inlaid stairs. The guards ask your business and you provide them with the invitation from the eccentric, yet wealthy Shiela Heidmarch.
"Oy, now, why is that woman olways invitin' the weird ones ta her place, eh Jesk?" says one guard to another, eyeing you closely.
"It's like a pah-rayde! Look at this group. A circus, maybe?" says the other guard pointing towards three other less-than affluent types in line behind you, waiting to have their papers examined.
Eventually, they let you pass up the stairs and into the Stylobate's statuary-lined streets above. It is here that the families most closely associated with Magnimar’s military dwell. Well-appointed townhouses, small villas, and even the walled estates of several old Magnimarian families provide majestic views atop the Fogwall Cliffs.
After a short walk, you find yourself standing, with three others, before Heidmarch Manor, home of Sheila Heidmarch, eccentric and successful adventurer and the Pathfinder Society's Magnimaran Venture Captain.
You have been invited by her, personally, to venture up from the Shore to Summit, past fisheries and into the marbled affluence of the City's high society, to arrive at her Manor, the Society's newest Lodge.
Tucked away, just before you arrived at Heidmarch Manor's doors, is a missive, from one of your "colleagues" in the Society. Much is to be done today, here, at Heidmarch Manor. Whether Sheila Heidmarch knows it or not.
SCENE: Afternoon, Magnimar, the City of Monuments...
The sun begins to drop in Magnimar, the City of Monuments, with the afternoon plagued by a hazy sky and a sun struggling to burn through. Mist clings to the harbor as you leave behind the Shore and begin your walk through the Summit, heading for the northernmost edge of the city's Alabaster District.
This is not a place you frequent. Some of the citizens on the streets stare at you, aware of your... lack of affluence.
The Alabaster District is home to Magnimar’s richest and most affluent citizens. Aristocrats, guild masters, and anyone rich enough to afford such a lifestyle dwell in the grandiose villas and mansions that line the streets upon which you walk. You see few shops, taverns, and the like here, with those that do exist typically catering to small clienteles—practically secret societies, these establishments generally do not open their doors to non-members.
You encounter several other strangers to the district as you ascend from the Marble District's lovely byways onto the the northernmost end of the district, the Stylobate's guards stopping you before a series of marble-inlaid stairs. The guards ask your business and you provide them with the invitation from the eccentric, yet wealthy Shiela Heidmarch.
"Oy, now, why is that woman olways invitin' the weird ones ta her place, eh Jesk?" says one guard to another, eyeing you closely.
"It's like a pah-rayde! Look at this group. A circus, maybe?" says the other guard pointing towards three other less-than affluent types in line behind you, waiting to have their papers examined.
Eventually, they let you pass up the stairs and into the Stylobate's statuary-lined streets above. It is here that the families most closely associated with Magnimar’s military dwell. Well-appointed townhouses, small villas, and even the walled estates of several old Magnimarian families provide majestic views atop the Fogwall Cliffs.
After a short walk, you find yourself standing, with three others, before Heidmarch Manor, home of Sheila Heidmarch, eccentric and successful adventurer and the Pathfinder Society's Magnimaran Venture Captain.
You have been invited by her, personally, to venture up from the Shore to Summit, past fisheries and into the marbled affluence of the City's high society, to arrive at her Manor, the Society's newest Lodge.
Tucked away, just before you arrived at Heidmarch Manor's doors, is a missive, from one of your "colleagues" in the Society. Much is to be done today, here, at Heidmarch Manor. Whether Sheila Heidmarch knows it or not.
Westria’s knock upon the great gate of the Heidmarch Manor estate is almost immediately answered by a half-elven guardsman who looks each of you over, his eyebrows raising slightly at the sight of Horlith.
”Lady Heidmarch has been expecting you,” he says. “Please follow me.” He leads you down a path, through a garden, towards a neo-Egorian style manor who’s sharp, infernal edges have been softened by bright paint and pastel trim. Overall, a lovely home that fits in well with the affluence you’ve seen this afternoon on your walk.
”Please, sir,” the guardsman says to Dr. Remulac, ”if you would leave your companions here. Lady Heidmarch has recently had the floors cleaned.” He gestures to a set of water bowls, freshly filled, setting upon the Manor’s patio.
Inside, you are greeted by a middle-aged woman, hard at the edges, but with a welcoming smile. You note leather armor beneath her loose cotton work shirt, and sword calluses upon her hand when she shakes. She elegantly bows to Horlith, instead of shaking his vestigial hand.
“Welcome to Varisia, welcome to the city of Magnimar, welcome to the Pathfinder Lodge of Heidmarch Manor, but most importantly, welcome to my home,” Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch greets you in her low, breathy voice, finishing with a warm smile.
“Varisia is a land of ancient wonders and exciting possibilities,” she continues, “and I’ve found it most helpful to keep a team of Pathfinders on call at the lodge at all times, should anything of interest to the Society come up unexpectedly. This assignment is only temporary. We’ll rotate in a new team to take your places in a few weeks, but rest assured, there’s plenty of potential for you to make a name for yourselves as Pathfinders here.”
“I’ve arranged for you to stay in Bakrakhan House, one of our guest cottages, for the duration of your stay here. It’s currently unoccupied, so you’ll have the place to yourselves. You’re on duty starting tomorrow morning, so take some time to settle in, wrap up any unfinished business you have in the city today, and should the Society have need of you, I’ll contact you directly.”
She waits briefly, expecting questions perhaps...
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Horlith, pausing at the threshold to avoid soiling the floors, bows in return. He examines the Venture-Captain carefully as he speaks from behind Dr. Remulac.
"Venture-Captain, thank you for your hospitality. Are there any particular threats for which I should prepare while out running errands this afternoon? Is there anything I can have my companions do or fetch for you?"
Horlith attempts to read the Venture-Captain as she answers to determine whether she is hiding anything from him, besides her presumed contempt for a qlippoth-spawn.
Sense Motive:
He will also glance around the entrance to see whether there might be anything clearly out of place for either an Egorian-style mansion or a Pathfinder lodge in the hopes of learning something he can use to flatter or blackmail the Venture-Captain in the future.
Perception: (If the lighting in the room into which Horlith is peering from the patio entrance is dim, the result is two higher.)
"Venture-Captain, thank you for your hospitality. Are there any particular threats for which I should prepare while out running errands this afternoon? Is there anything I can have my companions do or fetch for you?"
"Horlith, correct? You are quite welcome here at the Lodge. There really isn't any threats I'm aware of, besides standard Consortium infiltration. But there are a few opportunities that are simmering. I'm hoping a particular minor Thassilonian artifact, of Abyssal nature, I'm told, might become... available. Near Riddleport, actually. We've got Aspis agents hovering up there, so... you know what they say, where there's smoke, there's fire."
Horlith attempts to read the Venture-Captain as she answers to determine whether she is hiding anything from him, besides her presumed contempt for a qlippoth-spawn.
Sense Motive: 1d20+11=28
As far as you can tell, she isn't hiding anything, though she doesn't seem to have the contempt you expect.
"Chuu ka bey shoo?" Can you decipher Abyssal runes?
He will also glance around the entrance to see whether there might be anything clearly out of place for either an Egorian-style mansion or a Pathfinder lodge in the hopes of learning something he can use to flatter or blackmail the Venture-Captain in the future.
Perception: 1d20+10=13 (If the lighting in the room into which Horlith is peering from the patio entrance is dim, the result is two higher.)
There is an amazing Thassilonian-style glaive displayed mounted upon the entryway wall.
Westria says,"Thank you for your kind hospitality. Can you tell us what happened to the last group that had this temporary assignment? Are there any recurrent problems you have been having?"
Westria takes a look around the room while letting the others, who wish, speak
Perception: 1d20+6
"An excellent question! My previous team did not return from a retrieval mission. I did find the cartographer's chapbook, however. Sadly, it was too bloodstained to be of much use in deciphering what happened... except for the obvious," she says with a sad frown.
"Ah, the eternal glory of the Chronicles drives many of us to foolish choices. I prefer my write my life's chronicle when I'm old and grey, but that is... unlikely, yes?"
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Westria smiles at the Venture-Captain, "The will to glory is far too often the drive to an early death. But, at least one's life is full of adventure while it lasts."
Pouncer snorts,"I think what she means to say is she is amused to watch me getting beat on, and finds enough satisfaction in that to keep me around and wax philosophical from time to time."
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"Chuu ka bey shoo?" Can you decipher Abyssal runes?
"Tagwa. Yes, of course I can. Although you have tasked me and my companions with remaining here to handle any emerging threats, if there is anything I can do to assist you with the Riddleport mission, please inform me."
"In the meantime, who did you send to check on the team? What were they retrieving? May we examine the chapbook?"
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Male Halfling Paladin 5 (HP 39/39; AC 25/ T 14/ FF 22; F+11, R+10, W+11; perception +3)
(Casually detecting evil as I scan the group.)
Perhaps while bookworms decipher bloody journals the rest of us could proceed to the area where the attack occurred . . . so that others are not in harms way. The beast will probably be easier to track than read about.
"'How can we make a name for ourselves?' you ask. Ah, Dr. Remulac, you are a direct speaker after my own heart," she says with a smile. "For now, I think your surest way to fame, fortune, and close companionship is to stand ready for the next assignment."
She turns her eyes to each of you and acknowledges your offers of help with a bow.
"I do not have enough details on the last team's disappearance. Their bloody chapbook is with a colleague for some divination. That may well be your task in the coming days."
She beckons the half-elf guard with a raised eyebrow.
"For now, make yourselves at home in Bakrakhan House. Settle in, wrap up any unfinished business you have in the city today, and should the Society have need of you, I’ll contact you directly. Ebrylis, if you could show them the way, please,” Venture-Captain Heidmarch says as she turns and departs.
The guardsman steps forward. “This way, please,” Ebrylis says. “Bakrakhan House is the last house on the end. I’m sure you’ll want to unpack, set up your bunks, and so on. Dinner’s at sunset in the manor’s dining room. Look for me at the gate if you need anything else. I’ll leave you to it.”
With that, Ebrylis strolls back down the path.
Bakrakhan House is a cozy stone cottage with a slateshingled roof and stained glass windows depicting colorful Varisian designs. The ground floor consists of a den centered around a wide stone hearth, a small kitchen with a side dining area, and an exterior sun porch. The second-story loft contains private sleeping quarters for up to eight people.
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"I agree, Westria. I will also have to take care of a quick errand on the way back."
Horlith accompanies Westria, keeping his bulging, watery eyes peeled for an opportunity to purchase a courtier's outfit and jewelry.
Perception:
If he finds a suitable store, he purchases something garish. Something like the outfit he saw earlier, such as a brocaded velvet jacket and a large, round foppish hat with a feather would be perfect. He purchases random jewelry to go with the outfit, spending up to 100gp total. When he tries the items on, so long as they have some semblance of fitting and are expensive, he keeps them on.
If Westria waits while he shops, he accompanies Westria to the Dreaming Dryad and looks for opportunities to buy a scroll or potion of Disguise Self. If she does not, he makes his way directly to the Versade Villa in the Alabaster District.
Nestled at the bottom of the Seacleft lies one of Magnimar’s most vibrant districts. Numerous small playhouses, pubs, brothels, hookah bars, dance halls, and a wide variety of other entertainments make Lowcleft—or “the Rubble,” as locals typically call it (as much because of the minor but frequent small rockfalls that tumble from the face of the Seacleft and land here, as to the district’s perceived low morals)—a home to the city’s artistic and avant-garde community.
Many of Lowcleft’s citizens see themselves as the city’s true artistic heart and soul, and regard the fine arts of the Capital District or the upper- class entertainments of the Summit in general as falsified institutions that cater to a muse made of money. In Lowcleft, subversive entertainment, anti-establishment rhetoric, and wild social experimentation are the norm. Aristocrats often sneak down to Lowcleft to enjoy its edge just as middle-class workers often visit the district to escape the drudgery of mindless work. Those who choose to live and work in Lowcleft often regard these visitors as lesser forms of life or unwelcome intruders, yet they are always careful to avoid voicing such opinions in mixed company, since if there’s anything that binds the people of Lowcleft together, it’s an appreciation of the money these frequent visitors spend in the district’s distractions.
You find your way down from the Summit and into Lowcleft, traveling its quiet streets until you begin to find the heart of the district. Streets are not straight here, with homes, buildings, and taverns, all haphazardly plopped down to creat shadowed corners, darkened doorways, and the like. It is a thief’s dream, really, if not for the regular mercenary duos walking the streets, ensuring the safety of moneyed visitors. Eventually, you begin seeing Varisian wagons and carts in a large, open market stall area. Tents shade the area from the intruding sun’s rays, creating yet another darkened arena for good times and bad.
Before you is a wagon, converted into a semipermanent dwelling. Images of glassy-eyed sea serpents and scandalously clad mermaids stare stupidly from the timbers of this peeling sea-blue caravan wagon. Standing outside the wagon are five Varisian toughs, lounging about, drinking beer from large steins and playing cards. Two of them are standing, covered in beer, shouting at the other three card players. Hands are on hilts. One rapier blade is drawn just enough to see the glint of steel.
The two beer-covered Sczarni see you approach and turn on you.
“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKIN’ AT, YOU LITTLE CHEL SLAVE SKWORK?” shouts one, beer dripping from his black hair, his hand on his rapier.
“This here is Gallowed territory!” says the other one. ”Piss off skwork, before we shorten your ‘stuff’ even further.”
The three other toughs, still sitting at their cards and beer, turn their eyes on you. All is quiet. The first two toughs' words hang in the air. You can feel the pressure emanating from each of the Varisian men. Each and every one of them bristles with daggers and rapiers. With sharp objects that have seen long use. They are Sczarni... and the Sczarni rule Lowcleft.
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[bigger]** spoiler omitted **...
"One moment, Westria."
Horlith casts Message with Westria as its target so that he can communicate with her without being easily overheard, should doing so become necessary. After casting the spell, he gestures toward the glade with a toothy grin.
"After you, dear," he says.
Dr. Remulac? What would you like to do?
"I am happy to join you in your errands. Perhaps you will join me in a brief one I must make myself?"
The Doctor joins Westria and Horlith on their trip. The Doctor purchases the equivalent of a courtier's outfit, but one that is appropriate over armor.
"I have been tasked with going to the Dockway and checking out a particular building. When we get there, perhaps you could help me in spotting any secret entrances to the building. What do you say, Horlith and Westria? I'd appreciate your assistance. And of course, I'd be happy to offer any you might need that I can give."
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"I am happy to join you in your errands. Perhaps you will join me in a brief one I must make myself...I have been tasked with going to the Dockway and checking out a particular building. When we get there, perhaps you could help me in spotting any secret entrances to the buidling. What do you say, Horlith and Westria? I'd appreciate your assistance. And of course, I'd be happy to offer any you might need that I can give."
"Boska!Let's go," Horlith replies. "So long as you dress the part of a courtier, you can come with me, but I doubt you can help. However, with with these eyes, I see all. I am certain I can help you."
Peppin's trip to Lowcleft ** spoiler omitted **...
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Peppin's trip to Lowcleft ** spoiler omitted **...
Male Halfling Paladin 5 (HP 39/39; AC 25/ T 14/ FF 22; F+11, R+10, W+11; perception +3)
Spoiler: Sorry . . . immune to 'fear' effects . . . including 'shaken.'
My diplomacy revolves around the 'value' of the gift I have for Jaster.
My dialog . . . "Oh . . . well, I guess Jaster will have to be disappointed. Not only will he miss out on the gift I've brought him, but how will he feel if he misses the profits of an entire caravan?"
(dice d20+10 dice/)
The Doctor decides to sense the motives of the shopkeeper's response. Is he lying? Evasive? Forthcoming?
Sense Motive:
For Derek:
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"I have no need for your wares...human," Horlith says disgustedly. "Now, assist my companions with their errands so that I can be about my business." Horlith pretends to busy himself with eating another live crab from his bandolier, but actually keeps his eyes on the shopkeeper.
Bluff =
Sense Motive (during the following transaction(s) with the shopkeeper) =
Perception (watching the shopkeeper) =
The Doctor also takes note that he needs to help Horlith by purchasing a disguise self potion or scroll. He will do so at an appropriate time, making an effort to haggle and get the best price possible.
It seems to Pouncer and Dr. Remulac that your question worries Klydus. A lot.
"I uh don't have that particular pleasur here at the Dryad. Ummm, do you?" he asks.
My dialog . . . "Oh . . . well, I guess Jaster will have to be disappointed. Not only will he miss out on the gift I've brought him, but how will he feel if he misses the profits of an entire caravan?"
(dice d20+10 dice/)
"Ooh, the little skwork has a gift for the Man," laughs the first tough. " He don't need your gifts. And he don't need your caravan profits."
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My dialog . . . "Oh . . . well, I guess Jaster will have to be disappointed. Not only will he miss out on the gift I've brought him, but how will he feel if he misses the profits of an entire caravan?"
(dice d20+10 dice/)
"Ooh, the little skwork has a gift for the Man," laughs the first tough. " He don't need your gifts. And he don't need your caravan profits."
(Detect evil . . . Paladin move action = to 3 rounds of spell . . . and hoping this isn't another stupid 'one roll' DC 25 faction mission.)
(Detect evil . . . Paladin move action = to 3 rounds of spell . . . and hoping this isn't another stupid 'one roll' DC 25 faction mission.)
Pouncer says, "You seem worried friend."
Westria says in the exact same timbre but in a higher tone, "Perhaps we can help; we are professional problem solvers. We don't have any of it, sorry"
active sense motive Westria: d20
Pouncer takes 10 on sense motive (14)
active perception Westria: d20 + 5
"No, no, nothing you can do. Thank you for the offer. If that is all, then perhaps you would like to find another venue for your pleasure," he says, gesturing to the entrance from which you came.