Zyrel hears a response, "Remove the manufacturer however possible. Use your best judgement."
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Zyrel considers for a moment, turning the words over in his mind. A little later he walks back in.
"Our 'masters' will accept exile. I will escort you to the docks right now."
He hesitates "I recognise you will be reluctant to abandon your enterprise empty handed. Given you have displayed a foresight unusual for the mayfly races I will make a suggestion. I suggest you may wish to talk to my companion" he indicates Aakif "and negotiate an agreement. I am prepared to go past a temple of Abadar and have a cleric of that deity ratify it if so. Such an agreement would need to stipulate that you not return. I suspect you would ask for your enterprise to be wrapped up or subsumed, in exchange for a proportion of the money raised to be sent to you. I have no idea what the normal fees and so forth for such a thing would be."
Zyrel takes a waiting pose "If so, negotiate quickly. If not, grab what you can carry and let us go."
It is possible killing this guy will simply see him replaced. If he works with us to liquidate or transfer his holdings the odds of that happening are much lower.
Adding something that stops him coming back should look better to our employers.
Hes also not keen on killing reasonable people, and believes accepting surrender reasonably is a better long term policy.
He's also not that keen on helping this business survive.
"Abadar willing, that would be a most prosperous resolution. Excellent suggestion, Zyrel. That way he can walk away alive and with some money, and we can shut this operation down without any more bloodshed."
He turns to address the alchemist. "We haven't gone through the whole facility. Would you be interested in helping us get anyone out in a peaceful way? And is there anyone here that you would call your boss?"
Kristleifur listens intently, then nods.
"Sounds good, Zy!"
"There are a few more guards here. I can tell them we're clearing out. I...I run the show here. But I've got..."
His voice trails off as the searches through a stack of papers and notebooks, "This. A letter from someone I guess I could call my employer."
Qesim,
I believe our interests intersect. My superiors have a vested interest in disrupting the Pesh supply of Katapesh. I have received word of your talents with narcotics, and I am willing to supply you with whatever resources you might need, so long as you can produce a substance to rival Pesh. It need not be potent, simply addictive and easy to produce.
There is an abandoned complex in the sewers. If you are willing to undertake this, go there in one week's time. You will find an ample set-up.
Regards,
Bramwell.
He nods, "Aside from that, there's little of interest here."
Zyrel takes the letter, holding it at an angle as he reads in case of glyphs. A moment later he stops angling it and stares intently. Shaking his head slightly he hands it off to Aakif.
"So we round up your guards and get you all out of here. Simple!"
"How long have you been working here?" Aakif asks as they walk through the facility to dismiss the guards. He passes the letter around for the rest of the group to read it.
The group walks with the alchemist, Qesim. He seems reluctant to share much, but nods when Kris says that they'll round up the guards and get them out. "I suppose there's not much harm in telling you now. I've been here for about four months. Slag's real easy to make, so I could distribute a lot."
The party comes across another group of guards lounging around in what looks like a bunk room, and Qesim says in Kelish, "We're moving out. Get your things and go. Last pay will come soon."
"Abadar will appreciate your honesty." Aakif replies. As they move from room to room, Aakif will try to get an estimate of what's of value.
"You may know of Zakat, a concept within the church. I think it would be appropriate to offer you 2.5% of what remains of value within the facility, especially since you didn't have to invest in tools and materials yourself. Now what do you know of Bramwell or the company he represents?"
Most of the furniture is quite low quality. There's a large amount of mundane supplies as well, mostly food and other consumables. Aakif thinks that it would take a day or two to haul it all out, and it could be sold for about 200 GP.
When the topic of the alchemical supplies comes up, Qesim seems to tighten up a bit, "I am willing to leave, not tell of what I learned here. However, I want my pick of the supplies and reagents."
He pauses for a moment, thinking, "If you let me take what I want, I will give you more information."
Kris shrugs.
"I say let him. The info is worth more to us."
"Information does hold value unto itself." Aakif agrees, though sternly.
"Take your pick of alchemical things, but do not take any slag. We have already sacrificed plenty of wealth for lack of bloodshed. Our pacifism does have boundaries. Now please share what you know." Aakif warns.
"Bramwell contacted me a while ago, with that letter you sent. From what I picked up in my few communications with his agents, he's a Taldan slave trader with some serious mercantile connections. Whatever strings he's able to pull, they reach damn far."
"Sounds like a serious player.", say Kristleifur gravely.
we should report back Elsa says.
Qesim's description jogs something in the memory of the party that was present for the warehouse raid.
The letter addressed to the foreman who'd withheld the shipment to Sedik had come from Bramwell, referencing his employers, the Conclave of Niln.
"Very well. Thank you for the information. Please take your things and go." Aakif says
After Qesim has left, Aakif says to the group "There's roughly 200 gold worth of stuff here, but I doubt it will be worth the price and time to move and sell it all. I'd suggest going around and picking out the most useful or valuable pieces, and abandoning the rest. I wouldn't be against burning the remainder if it discourages anyone from using this place as a hideout again. What do you think?"
"I cannot argue such logic", chimed Armanus, who began to rummage through the items in the back of the room.
Elsa has a quick look at the stuff and pockets anything of value before the burning. She casts detect magic to make sure nothing of interest is being missed.
"I'm happy with that - and burning the rest after! Anything explosive?", Kris replies, seeking out said explosives to take.
Most of what's left in the compound is either worthless or among the supplies Qesim wanted to take.
That includes, unfortunately, a stash of reagents that immediately strike Kris as being fairly explosive.
Aakif has all the loot gathered up before it's distributed among the party. He looks to the rest of the group and says "I am sorry if this amount of wealth is lackluster to you. Abadar willing, our employers will keep us well compensated for what we have achieved and learned today. Still, I suppose lack of risk does equate in lack of reward. I will consider this more seriously in the future. I know not everyone is motivated by a holy cause, and we all have things to aspire to and debts to pay. Still, we have achieved what we set out to do, and our employers shall be pleased. Let us return to them, and then in the evening we can celebrate."
Zyrel cocks his head "I prefer to play the long game. There is no need to apologise to me, though I suppose will add my apologies to yours if the others hoped for more gold and more blood."
well I am disappointed at the low haul, but we have completed our objective.
"I have no claim over the pittance", Armanus sniffed.
The slag problem, it seems has been dealt with. The party feels like they've learned from their experiences, like they're better equipped to take on the next missions.
Kristleifur, his eyes shining with delight, stashes the explosive reageants into his pack.
"No complaints here!", he adds cheerily.
The party is able to sell off the assorted goods from the lab. The Slag source is Katapesh has been dealt with. This mission is complete.
Two missions remain. A Tetrad-affiliated mystic named Suradesh has gone rogue. He may be spreading Tetrad secrets. If he is, the party is to convince him to return and if that fails, deal with him. If he isn't get him to stay quiet. His location in unknown, but the Tetrad contact in Ridwan might know more.
A merchant in Alkenstar is spreading counterfeit wares, and Sedik would like you all to shut him down.
"Let's go get Suradesh!", quips Kris.
"Verily. If I may spend a few minutes, I would like to make a short prayer first. I can prepare some spells at the same time. You're all free to join if you would like, but I fully understand and it isn't something I ever intend to force upon you." Aakif says
This is a short prayer to accommodate time.
The first thing Aakif does is he removes all of his armour and lays it neatly beside him. He takes a moment to wash most of the gunpowder and grit from his face, then he unfurls a beautiful tapestry depicting intricate patterns. One side faces several pieces of gold, and the other side he stands at. He faces the holiest temple of Abadar that he has ever travelled to, being the church of Katapesh city, which is aligned with the gold pieces he set out. Then he says in the Holy Tongue
"I testify that there is no God greater than Abadar.*"
He raises his hands to shoulder height, with fingers slightly spread apart. In the holy tongue, he says
"Abadar is the Greatest."
He looks down, just below the gold pieces, then places his right arm over his left arm on his chest, just above the elbow. In the holy tongue, he says
"I seek refuge with Abadar from the accursed Reaper."
"In the name of Abadar, the most Gracious, the most Merciful."
"All praises and thanks are to Abadar, the Guardian of the First Vault."
"The most Gracious, the most Merciful."
"The Master of the day of judgement."
"You alone we worship, and you alone we ask for help."
"Guide us to the straight way."
"The way of those whom You have blessed,"
"and not the way of those who earned Your anger,"
"nor those who went astray."
"So it is judged."
Aakif pauses
In the holy tongue, he says
"In the name of Abadar, the most Gracious, the most Merciful"
"O Abadar"
"He is Abadar the One"
"Abadar, the Self-Sufficient"
"He does not produce a child, and He is not born of anyone"
"And there is no equal to Him."
Aakif pauses
Then he raises his hands to shoulder height, fingers slightly spread apart. In the holy tongue, he says
"Abadar is the Greatest."
Then he bows, so that his mind is now equal his with heart. His back is straight, and his head neither raises, nor lowers. He holds his knees for stability. In the holy tongue, he says
"How perfect is my Lord, the Supreme
How perfect is my Lord, the Supreme
How perfect is my Lord, the Supreme"
He then stands up, and raises his hands to shoulder height, fingers slightly spread apart. In the holy tongue, he says
"Abadar listens to one who praises Him."
He lowers his hands to his sides, and in the holy tongue, he says
"Our Lord, and to You be all praise."
"Abadar is the Greatest."
He then gets down on his knees, and places his forehead and nose on the tapestry, just below the gold pieces he set out. Both hands lay flat on either side of his ears, pointing in the same direction as the rest of his body, with the arms away from his sides. Now his mind rests below his heart. In the holy tongue, he says
"How perfect is my Lord, the most High
How perfect is my Lord, the most High
How perfect is my Lord, the most High"
As he raises his head and begins to sit up, in the holy tongue, he says
"Abadar is the Greatest."
He sits on his left thigh and foot, with the right thigh and foot upright, and right toes pointed towards the gold pieces. In the holy tongue, he says
"My Lord, forgive me
My Lord, forgive me"
He then goes back to place his head on the tapestry, in the same form he did before. In the holy tongue, he says
"How perfect is my Lord, the most High
How perfect is my Lord, the most High
How perfect is my Lord, the most High"
As he raises his head and begins to stand up, in the holy tongue, he says
"Abadar is the Greatest."
Aakif stands for a moment, contemplating. Then he collects the gold coins, dusts the tapestry clean and rolls it up, and rejoins his team.
As he dons his armour, Aakif says "Kristleifur, you understand firearms better than I, would you be able to quickly clear my pepperbox pistol? It misfired during one of our previous fights." "May Abadar reward you the best. I am ready for our journey together. In the protection of Abadar."
------------------------------
Spells
------------------------------
0th (at will) Create water, Guidance, Light, Mending
1st Bless,
2nd
"Absolutely!", replies Kristleifur, happy to look over the pistol and seemingly interested in the unusual-to-him prayer.
The party wraps up business at the Tetrad office in Katapesh, sending word to Sedik that the supply of Slag has been dealt with.
It's a day's wait until a ship bound for Jalmeray arrives, and pulling some strings yields a drastically reduced passage.
The voyage is a few nights, and Niswan is a glorious spectacle to behold in the morning light. Red stone buildings stretch to the skies, and the harbor bustles with vast amounts of activity. Nearly every language of the Inner Sea can be heard, though Vudrani is the majority.
The party's contact is a spice merchant named Shabhala in the Harbor District.
Aakif stretches his legs as he steps onto the dock. He's already completed his morning prayer, and explains that he won't need another until the sun begins its decline.
"Very few things please our Lord like a bustling marketplace. A splendid sight."
------------------------------
Spells
------------------------------
0th (at will) Create water, Guidance, Light, Mending
1st Bless, Command DC15W, Ears of the City, Remove Fear, Shield (domain)
2nd Aid, Hold Person DC16W, Shackle, Barkskin (domain)
Kristleifur grins at the sight of a new city to enjoy!
Kris and Aakif both know a decent amount about Niswan.
As the center of trade with Vudra, Niswan enjoys a high status in the growing power of Jalmeray. Much like the rest of Jalmeray, the city is nominally ruled by the Thakur. The real power is held, however, by priests, monastery leaders, and the legions of bureaucrats that keep the country running smoothly. The city is home to thousands of shrines, temples, and altars to the numberless gods of Vudra though the temples of Irori, Gruhastha, and Likha are most prominent.
"Do any of you speak Vudrani? It probably won't be necessary, but it may be useful."
"If it's anything like gnomish - then sure! Otherwise, probably not! We need to get looking for this tetrad contact."
Niswan is a dizzying, glorious place. Every inch of the city seems to burst with activity, with merchants haggling their wares, aspirant monks sparring in the streets, and performers from across the Inner Sea and beyond looking to make some coin.
Shabhala's spice shop is located off a large square dedicated to Ishyana, the northern Vudrani god of racing dogs. The shop is a riot of colors, with the smell of Vudrani paprika, Qadiran chilies and many other spices immediately overwhelming the nose.
Two men stand at the counter. One is a rotund Vudrani man dressed in silken finery. The other is an aloof-looking elf, one whom Zyrel faintly recognizes.
The human perks up when the party enters, "Ah! You must be with our employers. It is good you are here." He pauses to put on a pair of spectacles before he studies a piece of parchment while saying, "One of you should be Badhru, yes? Your skills are needed in another venture."
Badhru nods and frowns slightly, "Well then. Aakif, stay safe out there. Same goes for the rest of you." With that, the half-orc heads toward the merchant as the Vudrani man says, "Feel free to make yourself comfortable upstairs. Your partner, a man named Erick, should be arriving within a day or two."
Shabhala then turns to the party, "With that business done with, this is your new compatriot, Lanatir. Take a moment to get acquainted, and then I will give you your briefing."
Elsa walks up to Lanatir
Please to meet you. Where are you from?
The elf is tall and slim, with red hair and a thoughtful expression. His armor is a supple mithral chain shirt, and across his back are a long Elven Curve Blade and a bow.
He has an air of precision about him, in his movements and in his speech. His words are unhurried, and there is formal politeness as he bows to the halfling. "I am Lanatir, originally of Kyonin. An employee of the Tetrad, as I presume you are. May I ask your name?"
He looks at Zyrel, and bows to him as well. "Zyrel. It has been but thirty years, but it feels longer. It is good to see you again." The elf seems much more at peace than Zyrel would remember him to be. Lanatir gives a slight smile.
The ruby-hued tiefling simply nods. "Armanus Jerax Hellfire."
Elsa smiles up at him
My name is Elsa Swiftfoot, a sorcerer of the electric.
A little bit of electricity flickers in her eyes as she says this.
I hail from Absalom originally, but am now with this merry band of ner do wells. So you know Zyrel?
Lanatir looks over at his fellow elf. "A bit," he responds to Elsa.
The gnome waves with a cheery grin on his face and a particularly elaborate rifle sized for him on his back.
"Hello there! I'm Kristleifur Ehrenskiöld!"
Aakif steps towards Lanatir and offers a handshake.
"Pleased to meet you, mister Lanatir. I am Aakif Al-Khismia, a priest of the Guardian of the First Vault. We are all under the employment of the Tetrad."