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Dots here, place yer dots here!
This will be the gameplay thread for the high tier table of this scenario.
Low tier table can be found here.
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You have all been gathered to Sothis, a familiar place for many of you. After quick introductions, Venture-Captain Balentiir shutters off the windows in his second-story office overlooking the lodge’s tranquil gardens and seats himself behind his writing desk before raising his hand for silence.
He nods and introduces a thin, aging Garundi man in an ornately bejeweled and feathered turban. "This is Amenopheus, the Sapphire Sage. I trust most of you know of him already. If you don’t, know that he has served both the Ruby Prince and the Pathfinder Society for many years, uncovering vast troves of lore from Ancient Osirion and mentoring some of our finest agents. He recently approached my colleagues and me with a request for assistance, and the Society has agreed to step up and aid its ally. The arrangement is, in fact, rather mutually beneficial." He nods to Amenopheus, signaling the elder man to speak.
[b]"Faithful servants of the past, I bid you greetings," the wizened sage says with a shallow bow. "Our esteemed ruler, the Ruby Prince, recently released me from his service, which has freed me to learn more about a little-known organization to which I belong: the Jeweled Sages, protectors of Osirion’s history and chroniclers of its past glories. Quite by accident, I found myself initiated into this group, and have long believed myself to be its sole surviving member. Each sage in the group possesses a unique jewel—a priceless artifact that contains memories of Osirion’s golden age.” He pauses as if considering how to express his thoughts “For many years, I have sought news of any other members of the Jeweled Sages. My agents recently learned of the Diamond Sage, whom they traced to the city of Eto in the Osirian Desert. At the same time, I received word from a reliable source that several other jewels in the vicinity. I ask that you travel to Eto, negotiate with my contact in the city for his assistance, and then use what you learn to find the Diamond Sage and these lost jewels."
Venture-Captain Balentiir frowns and adds, "This contact has tried to remain anonymous, but we suspect he is none other than Grandmaster Torch. If you’ve heard of him—or worse, met him—you may know trading favors is his signature. Regardless of Torch’s past treacheries, we need you to deal with him fairly for the information. There is a caravan leaving for Eto in a few hours, so don’t delay."
"If you have any questions or grievances, now is the time for them."
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A young woman of otherworldly looks stands in the room, her gaze lost in the vague as if she was contemplating something invisible to the eye. She doesn't acknowledge your presence at once. Her physical appearance is weird to say the least. Despite her typical Varisian traits, her skin is ebony black. Her hair is medium-length and white with purple shades and wisps of longer hair. Yet the strangest thing about her is her eyes - purple iris surrounded in pure black. The young woman's clothes are Varisian in style, despite a few Mwangi lucky charms around her neck or wrist. A small dinosaur can be spotted in the folds of her kapenia scarf, curious and much more wary of the surroundings than her mistress.
Snapping out of her reverie, she bows to the Sapphire sage with the most profound respect. "It is an honor to meet you at last, Sage Amenopheus. You know me well since I have helped our faction towards our common goals on many occasions. I thank you for granting me the honor to be among those who will investigate the fate of the Jeweled sages. My question is this one - do you know how many Jeweled sages exist, and what their goal is?"
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Standing silently off to the side, you see a tall, dark human man with a dark weathered cloak and a longbow and quiver on his back. He has a habit of observing conversations, studying the comments made as if unaccustomed to civilized gatherings. If he speaks at all, he speaks with a thick Varisian accent.
Pausing a moment, he nods in respect to each of the members assembled.
"Zhis Master Torch, I have heard of his name. I am with zhe dwarf on zhis. Are we sure we can trust zhis man?"
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A tall, slim bespectacled man listens with great interest to the Venture Captain and to Amenopheus. He considers his allies, nearly as strange an assortment of personages as he worked with on his last assignment. He waits for an chance to speak, then his hand moves subconsciously to adjust his spectacles.
"It is a great honor to serve you directly, sirs. Whilst I have served the Ruby Prince since I joined the Society, I have been given several unusual assignments, even by our standards. Still, exploring the unseasonable winter weather in Taldor, followed by a most peculiar journey to Nidal where I met with the fetchlings, or kayal, have proved valuable. But Grandmaster Torch? I was given to understand the man is a traitor to the Society and still at large? It sounds as though the reports are accurate in this regard. But if I recall, the man is notoriously fastidious in the trade of information. One does not rise to his reputation without delivering accurate reports, as well as receiving them."
"Are we to hurry then, sirs? Do we have reason to suspect the Diamond Sage is in any particular danger?"
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Amenopheus bows his head gratiously. "The honour is mine, Pathfinders. For this task of finding the Diamond Sage, I need those who can be trusted. I pray I have not misjudged you, though I am confident that I have not."
At the questioning of trusting Grandmaster Torch, Balentiir raises his hands in a calming gesture. "I assure that much of the Society shares your feelings; however, Torch has leverage that we would rather he not use against us. Besides, he has the information we need. This is an evil to which we have no alternative. That said, any violence directed toward Torch would be revisited on us a hundredfold, so don’t be selfish. Save your vendettas for another day."
Taking a calming breath, the Venture-Captain addresses the last question. "There is no particular hurry for the Diamond Sage's sake. However, convenience would prompt you to be ready for the caravan heading to Eto."
"The Osirion Wastes are not to be traveled lightly," Amenopheus adds sagely.
"Indeed. Beyond that, we may not be the only ones searching for the Sage. Do not dilly dally any more than is necessary. Any further questions?"
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"Toooooorrrrrcccchhhhhhhhh," a low, angry growl fills the room as soon as Venture-Captain Balentiir mentions the name of their informant, coming from what some may have dismissed as a particularly strange-looking and bad-smelling house plant. The bundle of mud, sticks, leaves and feathers shifts and moves, revealing beady green eyes and a curved raptoran beak hidden amongst the wet foliage. There's a chirpy ribbit as a green tree frog clambers atop the top of the pile of muck and regards the group with oversized red eyes.
"I heard that a**hole betrayed the Society," the shambling mound spits acidly, "a fact that is utterly unsurprising to me, for he has dragged me around and treated me like a fool from the very moment I met him. That the Society trusted him for so long was the real surprise!"
"But," the mud-feathered tengu turns back towards Amenopheus and regards him for a few moments, unblinking, before eventually nodding his head to the aged Garundi respectfully, "for the sake of my good friend here, I will restrain from making Torch into grub-food. Temporarily."
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A raven haired woman with unnatural piercing blue eyes listens to what is being said while keeping mostly silent.
"If this contact of your does turn out to be this traitor..how do we know we can trust him now? If it indeed this Grandmaster Torch, the I've met the man before. He drove a hard bargain, but he kept true to his word the one time I've negotiated with him. So I'm willing to negotiate again, but you calling him a traitor doesn't feel me with assurance.
Also, since we do not know for certain whom your contact is, how will we be able to contact him?"
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A mischievous smile finds its way onto Balentiir's lips at Mikhaere's... enthusiasm. "Torch has indeed always enjoyed twisting bargains and words to his advantage. Very well. If you see an opportunity to gain some advantage against the man while doing favors for him, you’re welcome to follow through."
Amenopheus shoots a pleading look at the venture-captain before Balentiir quickly adds, "If you can get away with it."
Seemingly satisfied, Amenopheus moves to answer the next question. "Whether the contact is Torch or not, you will find him at the House of the White Uraeus, a fancy inn that caters to those in need of healing and rest. If it is indeed him, remind him of the favor still owed to me for past assistance in his grand endeavor. He will know what you mean."
A messenger arrives at that point and whispers something to the Venture-Captain, who then turns to you. "The caravan is nearly ready to depart. Take a moment to gather any last provisions you will need and good luck, Pathfinders."
Amenopheus holds you briefly, producing a weathered stone from his robes. He strikes it against the wall breaking it into two. He offers one half of the crystalline geode to you. "I nearly forgot! If you find one of the jewels of my order or the person known as the Diamond Sage, I ask that you contact me. Concentrate on the stone and speak a message of a few dozen words. I will hear you and respond with further instructions. It will only work once, so keep it safe."
You are then ushered from the building. Is there any business you need to wrap up in the city before the caravan heads to Eto?
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Mikhaere caws in delight at both the limited permissions granted to him to get back at his most loathed of all the stupid humans and at Amenopheus' obvious discomfort. "Mikhaere never gets caught," he says, laughing to himself in a disjointed way. "Don't you worry, Amenopheus. I won't do anything too bad." The strange and hungry glow in the tengu's eyes is still enough to leave one worrying, though.
The tengu travels light. And he don't need no stinkin' robes, either. (He's bringing enough stink with him as it is. Not to mention the tiny little insects buzzing around him and coming for a ride.)
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The caravan moves quickly across the desert of Osirion, the sweltering heat hardly bearable even in your desert gear. As you progress, the immense rock walls that ring Eto rise from the horizon like a shimmering mirage that gradually sharpens into focus. The city sits inside an elevated crater with sheer, weathered sides broken only in two places by heavily guarded gates. Long lines of caravans wait in a meandering queue awaiting entrance as officials search their cargos for contraband and calculate taxes. Water sellers, food vendors, and guides march up and down the lines peddling their wares and services to the visitors.
Your caravan leader turns to you to explain. "Eto is fairly strict about imports and exports, though they only truly care about Osirion artifacts. You don't have anything to worry about, though, right?"
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"Well alright then," the jovial driver calls. "Just be prepared to let them have a look inside your packs when we get there."
As you rapidly approach the front of the line, two guards call for a halt and look to everyone in turn. "Welcome to Eto," a third man calls, rather bored sounding. "All Osiriani artifacts are to be tagged and taxed by order of the Ruby Prince."
The caravan driver waves all friendly-like saying, "Just my usual goods today. And a few travelers to boot!"
At the mention, the customs agent eyes everyone further. "Travelers, eh? Seems like an intriguing bunch. What is it you do on your travels?"
He seems to have no regard for the line of merchants and travelers behind you as they try to move around to one of the other customs agents at this entrance.
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Elena tries to determine if our group is being singled out by the customs agent or if this is normal behavior
"Hello good fellow, just passing through on our tour of this wonderful country. It's a bit on the hot side, but I have to say..it's not unpleasant. I do hope there are a lot nice sights to view, all this sand will get a bit..shall we say "tiresome" after a while and I look forward to being able to stay in a nice relaxing inn..or maybe a spa to refresh my body and soul."
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At Elena's words, the custom's agent scoffs. "Well I'm sorry the city does not meet your oh-so-sophisticated standards! But you're here now so you must follow the local laws. If you can stoop to our lowly ways," he finishes with a heavily sarcastic and overly dramatic bow.
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"I am sorry if you took my words the wrong way my dear fellow. I am enjoying my time the time I've spend here so far. It's just that I'm looking forward to relax a bit now. I'm sure you can relate. as a hard working man yourself, standing in the hot sun for most of the day..I'm sure you can imaging how it must be to soak your body in a nice relaxing bath?"
Elena smiles at the custom's agent
Not sure how closely he's watching me but if I can use the orison Enhanced Diplomacy without him freaking out at me casting a spell, add a +2 to the roll
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"Yes, yes, and thinking about it won't make it happen any sooner. All this smooth talking is making me think you have something to hide. I'm sure you won't mind if we check your belongings."
Behind you, the caravan driver sits and shakes his head, knowing he will not be allowed entry for being associated with you.
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Mikhaere approaches the irritable guard with bored indifference. In order to combat the terrible heat, he's been dousing himself with create water spells from time to time; as a result, the backpack he roughly hands over is a) soggy and b) covered in mud. Oh, and c) has an angry looking frog sitting on top of it, ribbiting in protest.
"Just hurry it up already," the tengu grumbles. "I ain't got time for this crap. I need to get out of this stinking heat." The heat's really not making Mikhaere smell any better, actually...
Though seemingly happy to let the guard search his pack, Mik keeps a close eye on the guard in case he happens to feel like pilfering his belongings instead of simply looking at them.
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As Mikhaere opens his pack to be searched, the custom's officer shows no subtlety in searching its contents. He even goes so far as to grab the odd wand, inspecting it for any sign of Osiriani origin before replacing it. The more he searches, the more frustrated he gets. Indeed, it almost looks like he is looking for a reason to detain you. He does not, however, remove anything which he does not replace.
Moving on to Ouroboreia, he insists on seeing all of the packs, including the contents of that strange bag which is bigger on the inside.
This continues through the whole party, with the customs agent's eyes widening quickly at the sight of Elena's unholy symbol. He thinks to make a deal over it but promptly shuts his mouth again, replacing the icon.
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"See, officer? Nothing of note. Unless you count my dinosaur as being an Osiriani artifact. Kû, say hello to the kind officer."
At this time, a tiny dinosaur moves out of the pocketed kapenia where it was resting, and peers at the customs officer, blinking in curiosity.
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The agent grumbles at Ryster's firearm that it's "definitely not Osiriani..."
Barely looking up from the haversack, he very grumpily stands back. "I know you lot are hiding something... but I have no time to keep you here to find out what. Just don't try anything here. Welcome to Eto," he finishes, practically spitting the words. He glares at you all as you enter the city, etching your faces into his memory.
Beyond the gates, the main thoroughfares fan out around the various districts of the city before dwindling into the dozens of pathways that flow through the bazaar like the delta of the great River Sphinx.
It does not take long for you to find and enter the House of the White Uraeus. Although its exterior is unassuming, the interior is richly decorated with panels of gold-veined marble and bubbling fountains in secluded courtyards. Cool breezes carry the scent of blooming desert flowers throughout the clean halls. Two half-orcs keep watch outside one set of closed doors. After a moment inspecting the visitors, they pull open the doors to reveal a tiled bathing chamber beyond.
"Welcome to Eto, Pathfinders," rasps the scar-covered Grandmaster Torch as he lounges in a steaming tub. "I didn’t imagine to meet with you again under such heart-warming circumstances, yet the White Uraeus certainly knows how to make a traveler comfortable. What can a humble secret monger such as I do for you?" he asks as he leans forward in the tub and flashes a knowing smile.
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Guilford goes along with the inspection without argument. Though he has long desired to recover an Osiriani relic, he has never actually been to Osirion since joining the Society. He remembers the heat quite well, though, from the trip through the country he took with his mentor many years ago.
He observes the figure of Torch, one he has only heard described in rumors. He decides to speak up:
"Funny thing, really, old bean. Seem we've been tasked with tracking down the one of the Jeweled Sages. Diamond, to be precise. I don't suppose you'd be able to provide us with his or her location? Perhaps if we were to offer our services in exchange?"
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Ouroboreia, merely content with the trick she played on the customs officer, wears an enigmatic smile as she meets at last the infamous Grandmaster Torch. She's satisfied with observing and listening to the conversation for now, gazing at the former faction leader with her undecipherable void eyes.
What makes this man so special, I wonder? His scarred body screams that it's his ability to survive no matter what destiny throws at him, but could it be something else?