Mistress Lanvi listens as half the companions weigh in. "Sound advice Benaiah. Sound advice. Problems, when they arise within a family, are always so complicated. Part of me wonders if I did the right thing." she leaves the thought unfinished as she muses out loud.
"In Magnimarian society, as all civilized nations, nobility springs from some distant common place man or woman who has the wherewithal to rise above their station and make something extraordinary with their lives. As you may know, ancient Magnimar had long been a favorite resting place for Varisian caravans, and at any time before Magnimar's foundation, explorers could find numerous such caravans sheltering against the Seacleft's walls. But by the dawn of the Age of Lost Omens, conditions in Korvosa had grown intolerable to those who did not want to live in a society many had taken to calling "Little Cheliax." They wanted something more-a place with the comforts and conveniences of a grand city, yet free from the traditions of an overly pedantic and close-minded government. Unable to change such institutions in Korvosa, dissatisfied citizens opted instead to leave. In the shadow of the great upheavals caused by the death of Aroden, hundreds of pilgrims traveled west, helmed by four visionary adventurers led by the paladin Alcaydian Indros and known collectively as the Wardens of the Eye. After these travelers had journeyed across nearly the width of Varisia, they came to the Seacleft and knew they'd found a new home.
One of the original caravan families was the Vanderale Family. Their hold on the Merchant's Guild is so tight it is seamless with the many heirs of the family, yet if they were exposed to deal in pesh ..." she exhales loudly. "Well that could easily tip society against them. Don't get me wrong, much of the nobility, like all other classes, partake in recreational drug use, and it must come into the city somehow, someway. But if they are the ones controling it, well it would be a secret that they would pay to dear price to keep unknown.
"The Versade family, to answer your question, Benaiah, offers similar services that I offer. They mainly stick to a more refined clientele, whereas I am a bit more liberal. For instance, you would never find them owning or sponsoring an establishment in Underbridge . They are more devoted to organizing parties with the nobility of Magnimar, and they own the Gilded Cage, the most exclusive establishment in Magnimar.
"So yes, we provide similar services; yet, they cater to a richer clientele. I deal more in the, ahem!" she clears her throat, "Horizontal as you put it. But yes, they throw society parties, girls coming of age, distant relatives visiting Magnimar, that sort of thing. They do contract many musicians, artists, and the like."
Malgrim remains reticent and clearly embarassed by his performance during the intrusion. "After a successful infiltration, I was clearly unprepared for the response they mustered. When the handmaiden was located I went to seek out anything else that might be of use to our efforts, only to spring an alarm." He looks around, then shrugs. "I assume. Nothing else explains the actions that the guards took. I did manage to procur a cache of ciphered documents, which perhaps can be put to aid. It would be a shame if they were simply love notes, but I made the choice that they were more useful than mere robbery could have gained. At the very least, they may provide some leverage."
He turns to Benaiah. "I appreciate your efforts to create a diversion, although they didn't seem to rectify the situation. I did try to make clear my departure, but we should work in advance how to communicate in these situations in the future... assuming they come up again."
He looks to Lavni. "I am glad that we have managed to establish more honesty. Things could have turned better, or worse. I only imagine that if we had been upfront, it would have been more effective of an operation."
"Ciphered documents you say? I have a rudimentary knowledge of bookkeeping, and a reliable expert when I need something done right. With your permission of course, I would like to take a look and if I can't make heads or tails, my bookkeeper.
"So let me get this straight, you were at Versade Villa, where you stole these documents, and you saw my Handma ... daughter, talking with a Vanderale womanizer? All the sons are womanizers, which one was it?"
"Any others that you had chance to meet? Remember boys and Gwen, we are in the information business." she ends with a smile.
"Well, the only one I met was a dwarf by the name of Balastar et Mindurian, a member of the Midurian household," Arimar informs the Mistress, "We became quite good friends, sharing in each other's good fortune while gambling on the golems. Unfortunately, however, while a friendship was made, it's not one that I'll likely ever to be able to take advantage of - my persona is who he made friends with, not me.
"Speaking of..." Arimar turns to his long-time companion, "Benaiah. You've hardly said a thing to me since this transformation occurred. I'm still me, deep down. I've just been freed of the weight that Urgathoa was heaping upon me. No longer do I feel guilty for not wanting to engage in the heinous and gluttonous things she required of me. Now, all I feel is joy that I am rewarded by my goddess for thoughts of loyalty and a genuine desire to perform... well, good deeds. I was always a tortured soul, but now... now, with the hope that Sarenrae has given me, perhaps I can be ready to put that behind me."
Arimar treats himself to one of the port-soaked dates that Lanvi's servants put out as a matter of course. He delights in both the sensation of the liquor erupting on his tongue from the plump dried fruit, and the rich, almost caramel-like flavor of the overall combination. A little dribbles down his chin and he sheepishly wipes it off.
"Well, I say let's leave the ciphered documents with our partner over here, and make all haste for the Temple of Sarenrae. The sooner we cure her of that disease, the sooner we can continue with this enterprise of ours." Arimar smiles, but it is an uncertain one. He really isn't sure how he feels any more about sharing in the gains of the kinds of things Lanvi and her ilk profit from. No doubt Sarenrae will guide me when a difficult decision needs to be made. After all, I made an agreement. No matter what has changed in me, I must honor my own word. A deal is a deal.
"Yes it is."
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Mistress Lanvi looks askew at Arimar. "You say you were disguised? Were you all disguised as such?"
She embraces Gwen in a genuine warm hug.
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As the Companions return to the temple of Sarenrae, the voices of supplicants can be heard through the open double door. Though the day is overcast, open topped braziers are piled high with twistwood not only giving off immense amounts of light, but also filling the courtyard with a sweet, cloying aroma. The purposeful bustle of the clergy creates an exciting atmosphere. Spying the Companions’ medallions, church members give them a respectful bow, and a few even go as far as engaging them in an awkward embrace complete with double cheek kisses.
It is only moments before Kahina emerges from a side door to greet them.
”Welcome, welcome. It is so wonderful to see you all again. Peace, much has happened since we last saw you. Care for a refreshment to quench your thirst? Sister Farizma has pressed the ripest wrinkle fruit. Ugliest skin but the sweetest taste. Reminds me of the parable…” she continues to enlighten the Companions of the virtue of inner beauty as opposed to outward appearances.
”I see you have a new companion. I am Kahina, priestess of Sarenrae. And you might be?”
She leads them to a less elaborate sitting room filled with long tables and rows of bookcases. ”This is a study room we use for reading holy texts. Usually at noon we invite all who care to read and learn about the wonders of Sarenrae. If you had the time, we would love to have you join us. But we have pressing matters to attend to.” She moves over to an open text. The gilded pages are resplendent in color and vibrancy. On the page the Companions can see a beautiful fountain depicted as if the illustrator was flying high above. Scores of infirm lay on straw mats while clergy of Sarenrae move through open-doored pavilions tending to the sick. Some clergy are cradling the sick in their arms, while pouring drink into their open mouths, while others are seen reading passages, while others are changing bandages and washing the sick.
”We took the trouble of pouring through our meager library, though much was lost in the fire of 4616. Here is one of the earliest descriptions of the fountain. You can see that the sick stayed close to the fountain so as not to miss the daily stirrings. Further reading confirmed the randomness of the stirrings.”
She moves over to another book. ”This one.” she pushes the book towards Malgrim, ”Shows the inclusion of … other races. See, here is a drow and that appears to be a tengu if I am not mistaken. The church has always tried to be accepting of all who wish to know the truth, but we all have our failings. Apparently this caused a minor conflict where … um … not really minor. So try as we did, some factions saw this as an attempt of the church to mount a rebellion against Chelaxian interests here in Magnimar. The Hellknights slaughtered all … um .. they deemed undesirable. “ coughing to clear her throat she moves to another text.
”We searched for any information on how the fountain was constructed, its water source, things like that. A few brothers and sisters even went to Heidmarch Manor and some to the Founder's Archives, home of the famed Forbidden Collection. We didn’t learn much, and tried to keep our research circumspect by browsing a variety of tomes. We worked on spreading a rumor that we were considering expanding the east shacks to make our temple safer, but investigating if there were any holy ruins that would prohibit us from building there. Not sure if it is working or not.” she looks sheepishly at them. ”We aren’t the best at this.
”What we did find” she unrolls large parchments with technical drawings, ”Was that an underground aquifer fed the fountain. It seems to have either dried up or changed course. Regardless, the fountain remains dry.
“Also and inspection of the fountain revealed that it is in a sad state of disrepair. A whole wall is crumbling, and numerous blocks are either ruined or missing altogether.” she ends with an audible sigh.
”It seems much has been lost to history. I am not sure if you know this, but Sarenrae never possessed much influence here. Some attempts were made to build temples here, many failed. What we did notice is that in this one.” she pulls another open text over. On the beautifully illustrated pages, a priest stands in front of the fountain, noonday sun beating behind him, wearing a priestly breastplate. ”The priest is wearing a ceremonial breastplate, or hoshen. See how it has twelve colored squares, each representing an hour from noon to midnight, and back again. Few churches can afford one, much less one that appears to be made of gemstones rather than painted ceramic plates. I can only guess it has some significance to the fountain.
“So where to begin. We are unsure why the fountain did what it did. It could be the water caused the angel to stir it, or if the masonry held some divine power, or possibly some long forgotten cleric of Sarenrae possessed some magical device that enabled her angles to dwell in the fountain.
”A more practical start might be to talk with the fine folks at the Quarriers' Guild, fine bit of engineers there. They might have some ideas on the how to rebuild the fountain. Maybe the The School of the Four Winds, a monastic academy dedicated to the natural world might offer a more holistic insight into the aquifer. Either way, you are going to need a fair bit of manual labor. You should think about hiring laborers from the Whale’s Belly down in Beacon’s Point . Finally, if you wanted to try and track down the hosen you might want to try the Museum of Ages. Doctor Ernst Landis curates the museum. Not sure how hard he would be to get a hold of, but the man buys from all over Golarion. Perhaps he has seen or heard of it.
“Again, this is all speculation at this point. But I pray that I have given you all enough information to start. Do you have questions? Not sure I can answer them, but I can try.”
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Benaiah avoids eye contact with Arimar when he is confronted directly about the changes.
"Aye, yes. It's good, I am happy for you." he manages a smile that doesn't feel forced. "We certainly won't miss your crotchety attitude. Hah! Ha..." Benaiah's face flushes red from the awkward joke, uncomfortable at the attention.
Is that all it is then? Weight of divine oppression that forces me into hedonistic desires and a chemical addiction? Can I just blame this all on Abadar? or Gorum? He wonders to himself.
No child, no you can't blame this on anyone but yourself. Besides, the only thing wrong with you is that you are too weak willed to do anything yourself, which is why you need me. The voice in his head rings out, causing an involuntary flinch from the big man. You think pesh is a problem? Ravenous sex? How could it be when it gives us so much power and control? When you don't get those things, just think of how much you are affected. Why, you can hardly control your urges, and so you must take control of them by indulging! Foolish boy, stop trying to think for yourself and do as you are told. Don't you see I am here to protect you?
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The conversation turns again, affording Benaiah the opportunity to put away the one sided conversation in his head. He tries to ignore the budding jealousy that someone so afflicted could be so easily set free, while he still questions the chains on his soul.
Benaiah walks in and again rolls his head around, taking in all of the sights and smells. He breaths in a deep, cleansing breath and with one giant sigh, exhales all of the tension in his muscles and anxiety in his mind.
The voice is silent for now.
"So Masonry work, Aquifer repair, and the ceremonial breastplate. Seems like a good place to start anyways." He offers, his mood starkly different from earlier in the day.
Something about this place... It quiets my mind. He shakes the thought off as soon as it comes to his mind, not interested in putting forth the effort to dig into those implications when there is work to be done.
"Perhaps this is nothing, but it is worth asking the question. Is there any correlation to the time of the Chelaxian slaughter to when the well stopped working? The actions of my countrymen don't surprise me in the least," He says sending an almost apologetic glance to Gwen, "But based on the experiences I have had with the pantheon, retribution for such an act by taking the well's functionality wouldn't surprise me."
"More immediately, do you know who we might talk to at the Mason's guild? I..." he cuts himself off for a moment. "Bah, I'll ask it, though I am guessing Mistress Lanvi would be the better person to ask this question. Do you know anything about the guild, and what might entice them to want to cooperate with us?"
Malgrim perks up at the mention of the Mason's Guild. "Perhaps I may be of use with the tasks of Masonry; those stoneworkers are my brethren. Of course, it is also possible that they may have qualms against those not of their organization."
He shrugs. An Outsider that is able to touch stone in ways they cannot might cause friction.
"Regardless, that seems to be the first step in our path, as it seems likely it would take the most preparation to enact."
"Perhaps this is nothing, but it is worth asking the question. Is there any correlation to the time of the Chelaxian slaughter to when the well stopped working?
Khania looks to the chubby cleric next to her. He give a shrug and a smirk. Rumming her forhead she responds. "Well, we are not quite sure of when, or how, the fountain ceased to function, but we know it was after the Chelaxian slaughter."
"More immediately, do you know who we might talk to at the Mason's guild? I..." he cuts himself off for a moment. "Bah, I'll ask it, though I am guessing Mistress Lanvi would be the better person to ask this question. Do you know anything about the guild, and what might entice them to want to cooperate with us?"
"As for that, I do know that the Mindurian family controls the guild. I am sure that hu ... Mistress Lanvi, sweet Sarenrae give me patience" she mutters to herself, "Can give you more information. She and I agreed that she would aid you in this quest to restore the fountain."
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Benaiah nods at Khania's answers, filing the information away in his brain. "We can fix the structure of the fountain, but I expect the source of the healing is much deeper than a structural fix, or a source of simple water. Perhaps in our efforts we will be able to find some information on both of those questions. By that I mean, when, and how the fountain ceased to function."
"I'll bet half my last paycheck there isn't a stonemason in that guild as good with the stone as you my friend." Benaiah chuckles and nods in Malgrim's direction. "I agree, that seems like a best first place to begin. Won't do any good to restore the water flow if the fountain can't hold it." Benaiah stands up to check his gear, a habit when preparing to begin a mission he picked up from his time in the society.
"I can't think of any more questions, but I know where to find you if I come up with any. You guys good?" he halts his motions to look at his companions, backpack hanging halfway off of his back. He pauses for a few seconds in anticipation of response before he finishes shrugging the gear onto his broad shoulders.
"Thank you for being understanding," Gwendolyn says, nodding politely to their host. The halfling's face is still scrunched, as if she were expecting Mistress Lanvi to come to her senses at any moment and unleash a barrage of curses. "I fear, it was entirely my fault we were at the party in the first place. But I hope... truly... from the bottom of my heart... that what information we were able to find is useful to you."
"And please, keep us posted if there is anything we can do more... to help" Gwendolyn finishes her thought, but her words make it clear she is unsure how much help they have been up this point regarding the affairs of her daughter.
"You are right, I should keep my distance from this place for a while," Gwendolyn nods in agreement. "I did not use a disguise at the party, and would not want to bring any additional trouble back to you."
"There is more to my story though, as you might have already guessed, as to why I squeezed my way into this crew. Some day, when we have more time, you and I should sit down and truly get to know one another. I was trained by the Conservatory, when I was young. But I only ever went on one mission before I wished to extricate myself and live a life of my own... I'm sure there is much we could talk about on that score. When we have the proper time, that is..."
"Tell me though," Gwendolyn adds, questioningly. "Did you truly not know your daughter was going to be at the villa and meeting with such families? Or did we pass along information which you already knew, perhaps were even involved in planning? If you've rather not tell me, that is fine, and I don't expect us to divulge all of our secrets until such a day that we fully trust one another. But, the possibility that you already knew what your daughter was up to... seems entirely possible."
"I would never underestimate you anything..." she finishes her thought. "And I in no way mean that as an insult, to imply you are cruel or coldhearted. You seems cosmically intelligent. As I would expect the Collector to be. One day, I will meet him and find why he has pulled upon the puppet-strings controlling my life, and guided me to do his bidding. But until that day, I will learn what I can from you- how to be a wise, how to be in control, and how to stay one step ahead of everyone..."
"Thank you, Kahina. All of this information will prove very useful to us. Probably even, indispensable," stepping forward, the halfling holds her small, delicate hand out to introduce herself to the priest. "My name is Gwendolyn, priestess. We have not met before. I have recently joined up with these men, to help as I am able. I'm sure to be no equal replacement for Keoki, but I will do my best to aid them all in restoring this fountain. That would be an honor."
Taking a moment to look at the others, the halfling sheepishly continues. "I will be honest with you though, I do have some forgiveness to earn with the group. I have recently led these men astray, as it were. I thought I was leading us down a well intentioned path, even a path that could be beneficial for us all. And though everything worked out... in the end... I still feel I rushed us into a position which was not ideal. I will be following their lead for a while, and helping however I can. Whatever path they which to pursue first, such as fixing the structure of the fountain, I will gladly follow and do all that I can to help."
"I do not know if the information you have given me shows the treachery in my own daughter's heart, though to be honest up until recently, that was a title in physiology only. She has had no material love growing up from me. Or rather it shows her promise and commitment to me as she acts as a double agent.
"What is most troubling to me is that I have said 'I don't know' more in the last few days than I have in the last few years." she ends breathlessly.
After hearing about Gwen's story, she looks genuinely surprised. "The Conservancy? I am only distantly familiar with that organization, but if rumors hold true, you shall be a valuable ally to our cause. Don't beat yourself up too much, if we never take risks, we never grow. I am sure it will all turn out fine.
"As for meeting the Collector, I know of no one who has. At times I think the Collector is just a figment of someones imagination, or a front for an organization. Who knows.
"But yes, I would like to converse with you more. Once things settle down a bit I will have you for tea and we can discuss many important things."
Khania look to Benaiah, Malgrim, and Gwen. "What have I done to be so blessed to have such competent people so willing to help." She embrace Gwen in a warm hug. "Which among us does not have debts to pay and forgiveness to ask for?" she muses out loud as her gaze flits between Arimar and Benaiah.
"That was my judgement of this situation, for better or worse."
"And I would like for us, you and I, to speak further, when there is time. When it is safe. Please let me know when you are able..." and at that, Gwendolyn nods in thanks to her host then begins to take her leave. "It appears we won't be seeing each other for a while. I will keep my distance from this place... it is... a penance... amongst others I must perform. But we will meet again. And someday soon, I hope we will make you whole again."
Though it does not seem her last comment is directed at her, Gwendolyn blushes slightly at Khania's comment about paying one's debt and asking forgiveness. Her mind drifts back to thoughts of a silly but ever happy halfling from the shackles, and laments that she has no hope of finding him in the wide world. One day, hopefully she could find this Collector and find out why such a man- or whatever the Collector was- wanted her to twist this halfling's will into a knot and get him to join a crew headed for the Eye. Then, hopefully she could find Wrigley too and beg for his forgiveness.
She had her own debts to pay... she had forgiveness to ask... "We all have our secrets and regrets..." the halfling says to aloud, to no-one in particular, then casts her gaze downward toward her shoes.
"I am ready to start paying my debts. Let us go, if we are ready..."
"I am sorry for seeming distant," Arimar says suddenly, breaking his silence at last, "I guess I've just been thinking a lot about my changes and being here in this holy place that already feels more like home than the place where I grew up... well, it has given me much to ponder."
Arimar considers all that has been said, "The masons would be an ideal place to start. I would also like to add the Hellknights to the list of groups to ask about the fountain. They may have done something - a ritual perhaps - after the massacre." The big man pops a wrinkle fruit into his mouth and delights in the odd texture of the skin and the amazingly sweet flesh beneath.
"For now, though, it seems we are to head to the stone masons," Arimar manages after he swallows the last of his wrinkle fruit, "I take it the church is willing to pay a fair market rate for their labor? We are happy to help restore the well, but our funds are low."
The Companions sit across from the two men in Whale’s Belly in the Beacon Point neighborhood of Outcast's Cove. As they peer out the dirty windows they can see the statue- studded point called the Wyrmwatch, a lighthouse said to overlook the spot Alcaydian Indros battled the Vydrarch, a legendary sea monster. They noticed on their walk down from the Alabaster District that Beacon Point is a raucous home to traders, sailors, and hardworking, hard-living families of all sorts.
At the Whale’s Belly, the ale was bitter and cold, and the tables only sported an occasional spot of grease. The two men sitting across from them nod their heads as the Companions explain the job. Exclaiming at the same time, ”Agreed” both men look well pleased.
”Won’t be a problem. On any given day I can have between fifteen and twenty hard working men and women ready to go. They will put their time in and give it their all.” brags Foreman Daceileum Surly.
”And I’ve got a fist of carpenters. Few of the lads know their way around some engineering plans too. I can have some on site, and few in the shop. We will need some supplies delivered. What me to take care of that?” queries Senior Carpenter Branarm Om. ”I can just tack it on the price.”
”And you are going to need a permit from the Quarriers' Guild. I can file that for you too. What do you want me to write on it where is says ‘Project’?” adds Surly.
”And you’ll need stone from them too.” he adds as he tips the glass to his lips. After a long drink, the places the mug down, foam still covering his upper lip. ”What?”
Arimar displays his allegiance to Sarenrae proudly. After so many decades of hiding his faith, it felt good to finally be open about it. Being strong enough to defend it also felt good. No, more than that, it felt right. The Shore District, straddling Outcast's Cove, is a bustling area at all times of day, and the Dockway was even more so. It is said that the merchants of the Dockway never sleep. While that statement is plainly false, the stalls at the Bazaar of Sails never close. Police roam the streets and keep the district honest and welcoming to the many travellers arriving in Magnimar from all over Golarion.
Smiling, Arimar enters the Wyvern's Needle, a tavern and tattoo parlor that Mistress Lanvi recommended to him. An almost emaciated man with an impressive beard that may well never have been groomed greets him gruffly from behind a desk. "Whaddaya need?" he grunts.
"I need a tattoo altered, and have heard that the best artist in all Magnimar is here. I'm looking for Werner, is that you?" asks Arimar, ignoring the man's offensive tone.
"Save yer focking flattery," spits the man, "If ye're here t'see me, then it means ye need an artist wot kin keep his focking trap shut."
Arimar grins widely at this, "Yes indeed I do."
"Good to hear that you're so ready to proceed," Arimar looks very pleased, but he is also wary. He searches the men's expressions and their manner for a sign of deception or that they are going to rip off the church. Old instincts die hard, I guess. "We will, of course, need to have our legist take a look over this contract and may need to add in some clauses around price and completion deadlines. I'm sure, though, that everything will be fine." With Mistress Lanvi's knowledge of legalese and contracts, Arimar is sure she could act as a legal documentation counsel on this. If not, she would no doubt know someone who could.
"As for project, 'Temple of Sarenrae Waterworks Restoration' seems most apt, wouldn't you say?" Arimar asks both Surly and his companions.
Blood drips on the floor from Arimar's recent tattoo. He's glad that he doesn't have to show it anymore, and knows that he could heal it in an instant should he desire. Some things need to be felt, he tells himself, and then suddenly realizes that is a teaching of Urgathoa and not Sarenrae. Despite this, he does not heal the skin around the tattoo. Even a goddess like the Pallid Princess can be right about some things.
"There is a touch of bad news." says Foreman Daceileum Surly with downcast eyes.
"Not really bad, just a complication. Minor complication at that." adds in Carpenter Branarm Om.
"Come on, Daceilum. Level with these fine people." and he gives Gwen a wink.
"Well you see it is like this. We had a bit of forewarning about this job and did a walk around it and all. Pretty standard in our line of work. I did some rough estimates and you need a lot of stone. Normally wouldn't be a problem with well funded clients such as yourself.." begins Carpenter Branarm Om.
"Cept we were told this job had certain specifications and we can't deviate from it. At all. It is a common expression for all workers to declare, 'Looks good from Underbridge.', meaning the jobs done, and we don't really give two s!#*s about it once it is done." explains Foreman Daceileum Surly. "So that means this job is a bit more complicated than a normal job. Here." Foreman Daceileum Surly slides a sketchbook over to the Companions.
"This is a rough estimate of quantities, sizes, and here." Carpenter Branarm Om tosses Malgrim a stone the size of a quail egg. "You said you know stone. This is a piece of the stone used to build that structure initially. Neither Daceileum nor I have any idea what this is. We can take care of the mundane stuff, but you boys need to have this examined at the Guild. We need an exact match to the type of stone originally used."
"The Guild is and always has been run by some upstanding folks. They know their stuff. Hopefully they can help you boys out." ends Foreman Daceileum Surly. "And pretty lady." he beams at Gwen.
With well honed mental and physical reflexes, Malgrim catches the curious stone and holds it in his hand inquisitively. "I know Stone. We shall unlock the mysteries of this one." He runs his fingers over it slowly, wondering what this unique specimen represents. Divine touched stone, perhaps? Or just a incredibly precise ritual Lacking further insights, he then turns to the foreman. "Once we locate the source of this material, you will be prepared to work it?"
"Either way, approaching the Guild likely is our best course, although I imagine this aid will not be free."
"Thank you for being so upfront about this," the big paladin's look is severe but kind, "Malgrim, if you've not seen this kind of stone before then the Quarrier's Guild will know. However, I have a suspicion of my own. Something about the fountain itself. I would not be surprised if the stone were extraplanar in origin. Or else, given the origins of Magnimar itself, maybe Thassilonian. Since you mentioned Underbridge, Surly, it got me thinking of the Irespan. Whether built by the Thassilonians or not, the Irespan has been stripped for building materials of various things around Magnimar. Wouldn't be surprised if it had been used for the Fountain."
Not sure if you know or not, but there a numerous types of marble in real life.
So for this particular sample, feel free to confirm Arimar's hypothesis and add anything you'd like to distinguish that there is something different about this particular sample.
Their meeting at an end, the Companions make the journey back to the Capitol District, and the Quarrier's Guild. This time, as they enter the District, they head west, rather than east to the row of taverns, towards Cenotaph. This is one of the tallest structures in the city, this 10- story, cylindrical monument was created as a memorial to Magnimar's most beloved founder, Alcaydian Indros. The monument was meant to be an empty tomb honoring the local hero. As years passed and Indros's family members and friends passed on, an inordinate number of residents requested to have their bones entombed near or within the monument. Begun as an honor to the great man, then a vogue, the practice has become a tradition and postmortem status symbol for all who can afford burial beneath the stones of the surrounding Mourner's Plaza or in the later- constructed catacombs beneath the memorial. Priests of the church of Pharasma patrol the Cenotaph and its catacombs frequently, striving to keep the monument free of undead, scavengers, and grave robbers.
As the companions enter the towering warehouse that is the Quarriers' Guild, they see a small counter in front of a larger standing bookcase. The bookcase is divided into numerous pigeonholed cubbies, each stuffed with papers folded and crumpled, belching forth like the cliff faces of Sea Cleft where numerous birds make their nests in cracks of the cliff face.
The Companions see a dwarf of standard dwarf height, sporting a jet black, well oiled, and ringlet beard cascading down the man's chest walk out to greet them. His two ice blue eyes shimmer behind a single, think mane of eyebrow. You can tell he is finely dressed underneath his work overalls which are currently covered in a fine grey dust though the luxurious, jet black oiled beard remains dust free. The dwarf extends a calloused hand, "Welcome to the Quarriers' Guild. I am Balastar. What can we do for you?"
Malgrim nods at the... paladin? It still seems strange that such changes have occured over such a short time. Perhaps Arimar's change of heart and religion have given him new insight into this matter?
The hobgoblin continues to trace the sample of rock in his hand, then as a thought he exerts his mental mastery of stone to allow his fingertips to dip inside the surface... before retracting just as quickly. Something, some strange element beyond mere base elements lies within this piece. He turns to his companions. "This may be of the similar to the stone of the Irespan and the ruins of Thasilon. Yet I imagine there is something more significant than mere building materials involved here."
At the Quarriers' Guild, the hobgoblin breathes in the lingering scents of rock that permeate this place of commerce. In a rare gesture, Malgrim extends his hand to the dwarf, meeting the other man's calloused hand with matching callouses formed from years of hard work and stonecraft. After the ritual of greeting is completed, his withdraws his hand to bring out the sample the party was given. "Greetings, scion of stone. We seek to learn of this..." He holds out the rock they were given. "We are involved in a project of repair that has exacting requirements and this was part of the original construction, and were told your Guild might have knowledge we might tap. Do you have someone that might aid us in this matter?"
"Are you a fellow stonemason?" the dwarf queries and he takes the stone. "Obviously this is lrespan basalt, for sure Thassilon, but there is something ... odd about this." the dwarf pulls out a reticle eyepiece and pops it in.
"Oh my. Is that?" he goes silent as he examines it. "How much do you need?"
He flips through the first few pages before exclaiming, "By Torag's hairy balls. Seriously? Hope you all gots lots of money. You see, lrespan basalt is worth a pretty copper in and of itself. When you get a rare variety, like I think this one is, well you just don't find it anywhere.
"I am not going to lie, this is a pretty unique stone. It is going to take me some time to figure it out. Mind if I hang on to it? I should have an answer in a day or two."
An obvious remnant of ancient Thassilon, the Irespan once served as a vital travel route across the broken, mountainous terrain. This consecutive series of bridges formed an incredible highway of overpasses. When Bakrakhan sank into the Varisian Gulf during Earthfall, the Irespan shattered. All that survived were a few indomitable but still relatively short spans (primarily at either end one on the mainland and one on Rivenrake), numerous broken pilings, and a few resilient stretches of bridge now spanning turbulent waters rather than airy heights .
The portions that exist today still retain the preservative magic placed upon the stones by its ancient architects while Earthfall destroyed the majority of the bridge, what survived has weathered 10,ooo years of erosion with remarkably little wear.
In modern times, the Irespan has been a source of wonderment, mystery, and ill fortune. Although the founders of Magnimar chose their community's location primarily for its natural harbor and proximity to the Yondabakari River, the ancient rubble of the Irespan that once littered the surrounding beaches proved an opportune source of building materials for the fledgling
community. Today, many of Magnimar's oldest and most elegant structures boast foundations, supports , and statuary constructed of lrespan basalt.
In 4623 AR, Magnimar's second lord-mayor, Varnagan Draston-Meir, ordered that stone for the newly planned city wall and rising Arvensoar be quarried directly from the Irespan. While the decision unnerved many especially laborers faced with mining 300 - some feet above the ground-work soon commenced in earnest. Within days of setting to work, quarriers proved the long-held rumor that the Giant's Bridge was a hollow structure, revealing partially collapsed hallways at the span's end.
The discovery, however, did little to stall the stone harvest. Less than a week into the project, workers revealed a vast, darkened chamber within the bridge. Mere moments later, a cacophony of shuddersome skittering heralded an outpouring of hundreds of ravening spider-legged things-abominable monsters known as shriezyx. Scrambling forth, the man- sized spidery
monstrosities invaded the community. Hundreds of Magnimar's citizens were killed, maimed, or abducted, with those taken never seen again.
Only the heroics of the twin wizards Cailyn and Romre Vanderale and an adventuring company known as the Eye s of the Hawk saved the town, rallying the local militia, driving the flame-fearing spider horrors back into the bridge, and collapsing the gap to the chambers within. Ever since, all tampering with the Giant's Bridge or building within 5o feet of it has been forbidden by law. Still, historians and daring youths frequently report strange vibrations upon the Irespan and low, scraping sounds emanating from within.
Properties
The Irespan's stones are infused with a unique variant of Thassilonian preservative magic. Scholars suspect that these features have grown in the stones of the bridge over the ages since Earthfall, and were not originally intended or even anticipated by the structure's architects. Bridge stones harvested from underwater rubble or mined from offshore pilings are not only of great value to builders and sculptors, but also of particular interest to those seeking to create stone constructs. Physical Properties: Irespan basalt is as hard as iron, while retaining its other stony features for carving and building. It has hardness 10 and typically fetches a price of about 5 sp per pound. However, since few buyers are interested in stones of less than 1,ooo pounds, the Irespan basalt trade is relatively limited to specialists capable of harvesting and transporting such heavy blocks.
"Balastar? How fortuitous!" exclaims Arimar, "You know Reginald Romsky. He has said that you two a good - if recent - friends. I guess you might call me his brother. You will no doubt see we look similar. After all, we have the same mother." Arimar smiles, accentuating his golden eyes and turns his head to show his pointed ears... emphasizing that he is not human.
"My name is Arimar. Reginald knows you to be one of the most affable members of House Mindurian," Arimar continues, "So yes, of course you may hang onto it. We are quite resourceful individuals, though. Perhaps we could retrieve the stone, if only you could tell us where to find it. Perhaps you may even be willing to help us with extracting it from wherever it may be found."
"Captain Reginald Romsky? Ahh, yes, what a fine fellow. Taught me some insider tips for betting. Make a pretty penny I did on his sound advice. You are his brother? Did he get off well?
"Well lads, and my fine lady." Balastar gives Gwen a polite half-bow, "I am sure the Guild would like to repay the kindness your brother showed me." he ends in a wink.
"Arimar, let me tell you honestly, no finer house in Magnimar than House Mindurian. We may not have the money of House Vanderale, or the excitement of House Versade, but we are as the stone, steadfast, long-suffering, rarely changing unlike House Valdemar."
"Now whats this you say about retrieving? I am not the adventuring type. We just send requests to Quarries around the Inner Sea and 4 to 6 weeks later a caravan rolls in with the material we requested. Sometimes sooner, sometimes later. Since you need so much, and I have yet to determine where this stone is from, let's not get too hasty.
"Should be able to figure this out in a day or two, three at the most. Where do you all reside? I can send a lad to fetch you once I have more information."
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Benaiah nods a silent reply in confirmation of the conversation in front of him.
"Just a tidbit to offer you, good sir. We are the adventuring type. Our resources are good, but not unlimited. If we can mitigate some of those costs by doing some of the heavy lifting," Benaiah looks overtly at his girth and over to Arimar's as well, "We would be interested in learning more about what that would entail."
The first words he had spoken in quite some time, Benaiah quickly retreats into his shell and stands at the back of the group once again.
Interesting commentary on the different houses... File that one away. he muses to himself, a brief respite from the weight on his mind. And also how lucky that Arimar found himself next to this man at the party...[/i]
The dwarf turns to look at the large man, the other large man. "No truer works were spoken. We of House Mindurian pride ourselves on delivering quality with honor. I can assure you your project will be the best it can be, and we won't charge you a copper more.
"Once I figure out where this has come from, I will be sure to let you know. Not sure it if would be worth it financially, but I will leave that up to you boys, and lass." again he gives Gwen a short bow.
"Where can I contact you again? The permits and sketchbook all say The Temple of Sarenrae Waterworks Restoration. You all staying there?"
The halfling looks up as the dwarf, Balastar, gives her a short bow.
So... this Balastar was at the party with us. Gwendolyn thinks while giving the man a curious and hard stare at time when his own eyes are cast away on other matters. I hope he does not place me at the party. That could make explaining things a little difficult.
Damnit, she laments, unintentionally rolling her eyes at her own stupidity. Why did I not wear a disguise like the others? Now, I must find a place to stay separate from my... friends.
The halfling pauses mid-thought and stands motionless, dumbfounded at a realization. These companions had so quickly become what she considered actual and true friends, she could almost not believe how strong the connection was between them. Initially, she was unsure if she was using them as means to an end, or if she would be willing to cast them aside if something better came along- this was how she had been trained to operate, only acting as if she cared for others but in actuality only using and discarding companions for their short lived contributions, as the Conservatory had so diligently taught her- but now she found she genuinely cared for and considered the wellbeing of Arimiar, Benaiah, and Malgrim. She even did not want to be apart from them for very long.
She was changing and becoming more compassionate, and the thought of such reckless emotions gave her pause.
Because I might be recognized as having attended the party, I cannot bring any further attention or prying eyes to Mistress Lanvi's estate.
Gathering her wits, and realizing she has been silent far too long, the halfling pipes up. "Mr. er... umm... Balastar," Gwendolyn begins, struggling a little to speak having not spoken for some time. "I saw an inn on the way here, I will be lodging there tonight. The Frumpy Duchess, I believe it was called. I don't want to speak for the others, so if you need to contact anyone, please feel free to look me up - Gwendolyn Mehra- at the inn."
"If there is any news, or anything is needed from us," she continues, now smiling pleasantly at the dwarf, even going so far as to to touch his forearm tenderly with a grazing fingertip. "I can quickly gather the troops, as it were." At that, she motions to her companions.
"Tell me though," she asks, her tone now shifting from bubbly and kind, to that brimming with concern. "I have no doubt of House Mindurian's place of honor. However, you did mentioned a House... Valdemar. The Valdemar's were perviously known as one of Magnimar's most successful families, with endeavors in shipping, fishing, and logging... but the Valdemars have fallen on hard times, as of late. Have they not? Do you know what troubles have fallen upon them in the recent past?"
"Hah! The Valdemars. House full of spoiled rich brats. No work ethic like their founders. They like to cut corners because it is easier. Their lazy, do-nothing ilk that surround them leeched them for money and entertainment while not contributing to their house.
"But the worst, they were caught smuggling pesh of all things into Magnimar. Now people all over are always looking for one way or another to escape from their reality, and there will always be people to help them on their destructive journey, but a major house, supplying drugs. It was too much for the other houses to stomach.
"Sad story really, but you reap what you sow I always say. Now you fine folks have a good afternoon, and I am sorry that I rambled on like that. I will make sure to fetch you my'lady once I unlock the mystery of this stone. he flips it up and catches it in his palm.
"The Frumpy Dutchess you say? Think I know where that is. Make sure to try the scones. Hear they are fantastic."
"If you cannot reach Gwen at the Frumpy Duchess, you can reach me at the Temple of Sarenrae," Arimar confirms after Balastar guesses as much from the job order, "I am one of their representatives," So strange to say that and for it to also be true, Arimar muses, "Unless, of course, the scones are too good to tear myself away from. Ha!" Arimar favors the dwarf with a wink.
"As for Reginald, he was in rather poor health after the party, but those headache's won't be troubling him any longer," Arimar assures Balastar, "He's not set to return to Magnimar for a very long time, though. I'm sure he is genuinely sad that he is unlikely to make your acquaintance again any time soon. You've been most helpful, and I hope that our business relationship is a long and fruitful one."
Malgrim makes a small nod of acknowledgement to the dwarf. "Thank you for your assistance in this matter. It is always a boon to work with the workers of stone." From under his hood, he flashes a rare smile. "Perhaps when matters are complete here and there are no pressing tasks I might come to learn more of your workings here."
Interesting... Gwendolyn thinks, as the dwarf explains the fall from grace of House Valdemars. She cannot help the wry smile that parts her lips and the clever yet mischievous gleam in her eye. Smuggling pesh... We suspected Zakon's family might be involved in such activities, or else looking to begin them...
Lanvi is smart enough to know this was the reason for the fall of the House of Valdemar. And if Zakon's family is looking to do the same... we may have just got some leverage we can use.
Perhaps, the halfling thinks, realizing she may not have given the handmaiden enough credit. Lanvi's daughter may already knows this too, and had complete contol of that situation.
"Thank you for all the help, Balastar," Gwendolyn thanks the dwarf sincerely. "Please let me know if there is anything I can help you with."
"After all, you know where to find me," she adds with a knowing wink.
"I just might do that, m'lady." the dwarf ends as he flips the stone up in the air and cataches it in his pocket. "Always looking for talented individuals that know their way around a shop." he adds as he gives Malgrim a nod.
Feeling like they're are on the right track, the Companions cannot help but feel things are finally working out for them.
As the Companions round a corner, they spy at the end of the street a heavily armored party of six Hellknights clanking to a halt about 30 feet from them. Adorned in traditional Hellknight armor dull as slate and dark as iron, their breastplate are emblazoned with a fiendish face, while their helms bearing forward-facing horns. Some hold shields sporting thick nails forming a sunburst. Most grip halberds though some sport flails and huge swords. Though no weapons have been drawn, their hands hover over hilts and polearms stand at ease.. One Hellknight steps forward.
"What business brings you to Bridgewater?"
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Benaiah feels a sudden pang in his chest, though he later wonders why the thought that springs into his mind bothered him so much.
I don't really have a place to stay...
"The Thirsty Scholar. It's just up the street from the Frumpy Duchess. Actually, just let Gwen here know. She knows where to find me." he grunts.
Without much else to offer, Benaiah slides out with the group, trying to distract his mind and thoughts with who he might find to keep him company between the sheets for the evening.
Then, while heading someplace to re-group, their way is blocked.
Ok ok ok, deep breaths. These boys don't look like the inquisition for heresy. That witch-hunt is supposed to be long over...
Conditioned behavioral responses cause the big mans blood pressure to raise suddenly at the sight of the fiendishly armored men based on his time running away from those who would hang him for the false accusation of heresy. His hands clench into fists involuntarily and his muscles tense up, anticipating a fight.
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Deep breaths boy. Grab that powder pouch, now is a good time to give me a taste. The voice in his head chimes in suddenly.
Do it. Do it now! Do it before they can get the jump on us. You know we can take them... WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, GIVE ME A HIT!
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Benaiah's hand reaches for his sturdy snuff box involuntarily before he catches himself.
Shut UP! Not right now. Just wait... Just a little bit longer...
Benaiah's brow begins to sweat, and his palms get clammy. His breathing comes in shallow gasps and it feels as though the snuff box thrums in his hand, in sync with his heartbeat. Each thrum calls out to him, begging for the release of the powder within.
"Business of finding a new city to call home." Benaiah manages to force out, his voice only wavering a tiny bit. "Just sailed here from Absalom, trying to find a place in this city. Maybe a place to earn some money and a warm place to sleep."
Benaiah's answer is plain, and by the end he gains enough confidence to finish in a non-chalant way, as if the original question were merely the spoken thoughts of a curious bystander and nothing more.
"Pardon us, we just need to get by..." he adds, plastering a smile and leaning as if anticipating the hellknight crew to simply move out of their way.
Fool. Your spilled blood is on your own hands, and don't think I won't hold it over your head, pitiful boy.
"I am Arimar of the Church of Sarenrae," the big, armored man answers - still finding the words strange on his tongue, "If you need us to be more specific, we were looking for business opportunities with House Mindurian and the Quarriers' Guild. Balastar can verify. Hoping to hear back from him in a few days. Have we broken any laws? Do you question all who travel here or are you looking for someone in particular? Perhaps we can be of assistance."
Arimar grins inwardly. It was always a good idea to offer to provide a law official with more help than they were expecting. It allayed suspicion and also put them on the back foot if they then needed to refuse said help... and the refusal often said much about their true motivations.
"Vagrants, Maralictor." comes the reverberated voice from inside one of the helmets.
"And insolent." booms another Hellknight.
The Hellknigh in front address the Companions once again, "I suspected as much from their appearance. A drain on the public welfare, subtracting rather than adding to the majesty of Magnimar. Do not presume that you have the authority to question me.
"Answer me this, where were you the night of 22 Rova 4716?"
Malgrim adopts a ready stance at the appearance of the Hellknight detachment, his hands deceptively open at his sides in the appearance of being unarmed. As the questioning becomes serious, however, he remains silent and lets the smarter tongued-party members talk when the questioning becomes an interogation.
"Maralictor," the halfling begins, looking to the first hellknight which spoke to the group. Gwendolyn intentionally starts her reply by not looking to or acknowledging the second hellknight which so rudely addressed them, most likely a rank-and-file seasoned soldier of the order, stationed in a position beneath the maralictor. "Good, Sir," she continues, careful to keep her tone respectful and calm. "As my companion stated, we were looking for business opportunities with both House Mindurian and the Quarriers' Guild. If you need further information on the topic, Balastar can verify."
"However," he tone alters slightly, now carrying a heavy resolution and the weight of someone confident in the justification of their stance. As always, when dealing with the easily bruised dignities of the chelish, she is sure to not adopt a tone of impertinence or frustration. The measures words of the halfling are those of confident self respect. "If you wish to know more of our business, we would first like to know why you are asking and why, we specifically, have seemingly been singled out..."
"Paralictor," she still addresses the man in charge, but makes it clear she is about to reference the second hellknight which spoke by turning to face him. "This soldier was quite forceful in his response to my friend... even rude," she now motions to the aasimar. "Especially when my companion, Arimar, was nothing but forthcoming and open in response to your initial questions."
"This therefore tells me that... at the very least... this man has already tipped his hand that there is some latent biase against us," she continues, her tone still confident but not at all showing any signs of frustration. "As such, for our own well being and protection, I must insist that we will not speak any further of ourselves, our business, or our previous whereabouts, until we know why we are being questioned and your intentions toward us."
"Especially if your men have already convinced us of their ill will toward my friends, and I."