Suradesh shrugs, "Fair enough, I suppose. I have no real reason to mistrust you."
The two groups proceed to the rendezvous, and Suradesh asks again of the party, "So, the halfling tells me you've rescued me. Care to tell me why, exactly?"
Aakif answers "Our order, the Tetrad, contracted us to find you. We have been retracing your steps since arriving on the island. All praise belongs to Abadar, that we arrived in time. My name is Aakif Al-Khismia Al-Katapesh." He offers a handshake. "I am pleased to see you safe and in reasonable health. I do have some questions for you, if you would be amenable to listen to them, and if Abadar so wills it, then I recommend we eat."
"The Tetrad, of course! I had my suspicions, but I wasn't sure they'd go to all the trouble. Last time I got caught, Seyadiyek had some stern words for me. I'm sure you've met him, runs Tetrad ops in the region. I am most amenable to a meal. I've got nary a copper on me, but anything would be better than the slop those bastards from the Conclave were feeding me."
"Then consider it my treat, to all of you, for a job well done. Tonight, we shall feast. Mr. Suradesh, I assume you are well acquainted with the region? If so, please lead us somewhere where we can enjoy a local banquet."
Aakif, is that wise? Those losers, she points back to the docks will soon know he's scarpered if they don't already. They will be looking for him. Let's get him back to the Tetrad and finish the job. Elsa urged.
We are exposed here, and still in danger. It is not yet time to celebrate. Count your winnings when the job is done.
Zyrel flashes a nervous look at the mention of dinner. "As it happens I suppose I have enough rations to share. Good, healthy, nutritious food."
He looks around and sighs "Or at the least, let us find a place far from here? Very far."
Aakif pauses. "I suppose you have a fair point, Ms. Swiftfoot. Perhaps I am not giving Bramwell enough respect. I just found the fight with his lieutenant to be... disappointing, and I did not presume them capable of finding us, let alone doing anything about us."
He thinks for a moment, disgruntled with the notion that he let his hubris get the better of him. He says "Very well, we can return to Shabhala."
Aakif has questions for Suradesh as they walk.
"You mentioned that you have been captured multiple times. Who is capturing you, and why are you such a high commodity?"
Lanatir looks a bit disappointed as the plan shifts from a tavern meal to trail rations. He listens to the man's explanations and story.
”All sorts of characters. A demon cult once, oddly enough an empyreal sect another time, various criminal societies and plenty of other unsavory types too. Any case, I am one of the Tetrad’s, and by extension the Inner Sea’s foremost scholars of esoteric lore, martial techniques in particular. The nature of ny field and my preferred method of study takes me to all sorts of odd places where those who might want my information are liable to strike.”
"Do you mind 'talking shop' while we travel? While I am only an amateur at most techniques, my comrade here..." Zyrel indicates Lanatir "is somewhat of a true devotee of the blade."
Lanatir nods.
"We also met some of those experts in unusual techniques... while tracking you down, we visited the monasteries of Sranava, Chanak, and Unuxi.
I myself studied the blade for years in Kyonin, and then in the First World. At the invitation of Magdh, for Her own purposes. I traveled far and wide in that realm. I studied with Paxis Telandriel, a great elven swordmaster from the Age of Legend - still alive in the First World in the service of Shyka the Many. I sparred with the android swordsman Rybonek in the machine city of Emergence.
There is much I still have to learn, even just about this blade, let alone other styles of combat."
Aakif is equally impressed and confused by Lanatir's statements. The number of names just swarm in his head.
”You went all the way out there just to find me? Those monks are an odd bunch, I hope they didn’t give you too much trouble. For a collection of souls so dedicated to earthly enlightenment they sure do hate each other don’t they? Any case, you have most certainly devoted yourself to the study of the blade, and for that I have the utmost respect. A man after my own heart, as it were. I’ll tell you what, as thanks for helping me out, I’ll get you my correspondence details and when I can, send you some reference materials that should intrigue both the warriors and mystics among you.”
by the way Aakif, you are very different to the priests of Abador back home. I could never see them in a fistfight unless it was over a copper coin they had dropped
She thought and then said kudos
Aakif cannot hide the embarrassment on his face. "Yes, well, I suppose my experience in the Tetrad has forced me to adopt some... unconventional beliefs." He pauses for a moment, before adding "Though during prayer, Abadar does permit us to strike those who attempt to rob us, within some rules. I would not fight over a copper, but our offerings are usually some of our most expensive items. Today I fought, because I could not conceive of any more ways to buy time for you. I was not aware you had finished the mission, naturally because you were invisible."
Lanatir will continue to discuss swordsmanship with Suradesh, and thanks him for the offer of future reading material.
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate your efforts
"Thank you, Miss Elsa." Aakif nods respectfully
"Indeed, Aakif. Well done." Armanus grinned roguishly.
Elsa laughs We will make you into a rogue yet
The party, after a quick meal from a street vendor, returns to Shabhala's spice shop. The smells and colors are powerful as the last time you went there. The portly Vudran man perks up when he sees the party, all the more when he sees Suradesh, "Suradesh, my friend! I had thought that you were gone for good! Tell me, where'd you disappear to this time. Please, please, take a seat, tea will be ready shortly"
Suradesh chuckles before saying somewhat sheepishly, "Thugs of the Conclave of Niln nabbed me in the Badlands. These fine agents, though, tracked me down to the boat they'd held me on and slipped me out without so much as a trace. They deserve a hefty bonus, I'd say. Above and beyond, and all that."
Shabhala nods as a young man bearing a tray with a teapot, cups, and brightly colored Vudran cakes rushes in from a side room, setting it down on the counter.
Suradesh pours himself a cup of tea and takes a seat as Shabhala produces five coin purses and a letter addressed to Armanus. He counts out a fair few more coins and puts them in the purses before saying, "There you are, 4000 gold for each of you, ample compensation for a job well done. Unlike coin, however, mages skilled in discretion are in short supply." He gestures to Armanus, "Your skills are needed for an assignment in the Chelish successor states. The Mad Duke of Egorian seems to be mounting an attack on the surrounding states, and your connections to what remains of the Chelish nobility are deemed valuable."
"I certainly do not wish to be converted." Aakif replies with a bit of a smile, though his eyes are still serious.
-----------------------------------
Aakif breathes in the beautiful aromas of the spice shop. He had missed it while delving in undead or spider -ridden temples. He graciously accepts tea, but Aakif must ask Shabhala what is used to colour the Vudran cakes.
"Farewell, Armanus. May Abadar protect you." He says. He accepts payment graciously, thanking both Shabhala and Suradesh.
"That was a horrendous adventure". Armanus confesses. "Mother was right. I've got 'the adventure' out of my system, and now all I want is to be pampered back at home in Cheliax. It was..an experience meeting all of you. Good bye."
"Fare you well, Armanus, and safe travels."
The last item on the party's list from Sedik is to deal with the merchant selling bootleg appliances in Alkenstar. After all they've dealt with, this should be easy...right?
Fair well, Armanus Jerax Hellfire. Maybe we will meet again
Zyrel froze as the money was distributed, and the new mission explained.
He pondered. "A moment", then from his pack he took a small scroll, unrolled it and wrote upon the back. This done, he rerolled the scroll and handed it to Armanus.
"I wish you the best of luck uniting your kin. Should you find you have both an idle moment in your future pampering, and the desire, I have provided an address where you may send a note to tell me of your continued good health. Should something go wrong, the other side holds one of my scrolls of 'expeditious retreat' I hope may be of assistance."
The elf nodded solemnly "I very much desire to get that note, my friend."
Armanus still stunned by the gesture of fellowship from an elf, a member of a people known for their detachment. The tiefling takes the scroll and holds it close to his heart.
"Consider the correspondence assured", the tiefling sorcerer said in gracious astonishment.
"Be safe, Swiftfoot." Armanus thought it strange to wish good intention on a halfling, considering his family history.
"Mr. Shabhala, can you tell us anything about Alkenstar? I am entirely unfamiliar with the name."
"The Grand Duchy of Alkenstar? You are unfamiliar with it? How odd."
Shabhala goes on to explain Alkenstar's prominent position in the industrial revolution that has swept across Golarion. As the first nation to embrace the age of industry, it's power and wealth is incredible.
Aakif thanks Shabhala for the information, and when everyone is ready, will bid him farewell.
Lanatir will add his own knowledge of Alkenstar's economy, culture, demographics, and politics.
The elf seem quite knowledgeable for one who spent so much of his life either in Kyonin or in the First World.
Along with the common knowledge that most have about Alkenstar , Lanatir knows that Alkenstar's economy is built mostly off of manufacturing and the sale of advanced firearms. Culturally, they're a proudly individualistic and rugged people, dealing with magic storms, mutant attacks, and threats from the jungles of the Mwangi Expanse to their east. It's mostly human, though the boom in population has lead them to have minorities of every sort. Politically, they're a parliamentary monarchy, with a Grand Duke as the head of state and a representative parliament that runs the government. They maintain cordial relationships with the Spellscar Alliance to the west and Nex to the north, though distrust runs deep for their southern neighbor Geb.
Having passed all the initial trials to join the Tetrad, you've managed to land a job with them in your native Alkenstar. The local Tetrad agency is at a small trading business called Wach and Heldonpinder. You've been asked to report to Binderbald Heldonpinder, one of the two partners at the agency. It's a modest building just off a main market street. The inside is well-appointed, paneled with exotic wood from the Mwangi Expanse, and the secretary points you upstairs to a door marked with the nameplate of your contact. A gnome sits at a desk inside, hair a vibrant orange. He perks up immediately as you walk in and says excitedly, "Oh my, oh my, oh my! Seems we have something in common!" He points at your hair, then to his, and says, "Any any any case, I am so glad you came along today! We're expecting a few more to be right along so please, please take a seat." He motions to a few comfortable chairs on one side of the cluttered office. A few minutes later, a group of people come in, a human in the vestments of Abadar, a halfling that smells slightly of ozone, and two sword-wielding elves.
With no other business in Jalmeray, the party is able to find passage with the Tetrad affiliated captain that first took them to Jalmeray, and a few days later the party finds themselves in the hustle and bustle of the Grand Duchy of Alkenstar. Zyrel and Elsa are familiar with the place they've been asked to go to, the Wach and Heldonpinder trading company. The party makes their way through the city, past merchants hawking the latest gadgets and gizmos, string bands busking on corners, even a few of the latest clockwork automatons made by Abadar Industries. The trading company is quiet and well-kept as always, and the party is directed to a door marked Binderbald Heldonpinder. The door opens to reveal a chaotic office, shelves holding all manner of knickknacks and curios. A gnome with bright orange hair sits at a desk, and a human with hair that's curiously almost the same color sits in a chair at one side of the office. The gnome breaks into a grin, "Ah! There you all are. I am Binderbald Heldonpinder, very very very pleased to meet you! Seyadiyek told me you would be coming. Now, I am to understand you're due a new teammate." He motions to the red-haired woman in the chair, "Well here she is! Please, please, take a moment to get to know each other."
“Pleased to meet y’all,” the woman replies.
She’s clad in a knee length skirt, a near-equally-long coat, a wide-brimmed hat… a whole ensemble of basic black and reddish-brown leather contrasted by a shimmering blouse. Though the outfit leaves much to the imagination, thorn-like ink spirals out from under clothing over what little skin can be seen.
As she rises to greet all who entered, her heeled boots elevating her lankiness just shy of six feet, her long open coat flaps just slightly. Enough to reveal a battered revolver at the hip. Those keen-eyed enough might notice the holster’s marked O.S. Finch.
“P.S. Finch is the name,” she says in defiance of the branded initial. “I’m a bit of a greenhorn, but don’t let that put knots in your stomach. I can shoot straight, and with a clear conscience too.
“But enough about me. I take it what we’re about to embark on ain’t your first rodeo.”
Aakif has several questions for the ship or his companions who are familiar with their destination.
- What are the primary faiths in Alkenstar?
- Is it truly impossible to cast magic in Alkenstar and the surrounding Mana Wastes?
- Are there any important local laws that need to be known?
Aakif has to do a double-take when coming across the business known as Abadar Industries. He isn't sure whether to be amazed or offended that a company is named after Abadar himself. He prays that they conduct themselves more in faith than in profit.
-----------------------------
Aakif is a Kelish man, standing several inches shorter than Finch. Although he wears a shirt of mail, underneath is a robe of radiant blue cotton. He also wears a silk sash of gold, and a scarf to match, which is partially hidden due to the man's massive black beard. He wears a blue headdress over his hair, and around his neck is a golden key pendant. Aakif's eyes are always stern and piercing, except on the occasions in which he laughs. For weapons he carries a dagger, and on his hip rests a pepperbox pistol.
"Greetings, Miss Finch." Aakif says as he places his right hand over his chest. "I am Aakif Al-Khismia Al-Katapesh. I am a faithful servant of Abadar (may He be praised and exalted). Please be welcome as my companions introduce themselves."
Alkenstar is home to a wide variety of faiths, but the most prominent are Brigh, Torag, and Abadar. Magic is impossible in the Smokeside district of Alkenstar City, and there are also pockets of dead magic scattered throughout the Mana Wastes. That said, magic is normal or vastly intensified in other parts of the Mana Wastes. There aren't any local laws that really stand out.
Finch smiles as Aakif speaks of Abadan. “A man of faith. I can relate.” There’s a story behind those words. Emerald eyes seem lost in that story for a moment, but the moment passes. The story remains untold. “I’m a Milani gal myself.”
"Excellent." Aakif replies with resignation. "I am certain we will have plenty to talk about."
Elsa shivers when she comes into the city.
I have heard stories about magic here failing. Not fond of that idea
When introduced to Finch She regains a little spirit
Glad to meet you, high pockets. You any good with that pistol?
Elsa is a slightly under three-foot halfing woman with pale blond hair, no armour and a crossbow over her shoulder. A bandolier crosses her chest with various vials on it. Her clothes are of a mottled grey colour. Hr fingertips sometimes crackle with sparks
Elsa Swiftfoot, please to meet ya she says with an Absalom street accent
Lanatir is tall and slim. He appears thoughtful - curious but a bit detached. His armor is a mithral chain shirt, and across his back are a long Elven Curve Blade and a bow. He also has red hair, like the woman and the gnome.
"Milani. Hmmm." Lanatir's tone is hard to read. Is he considering the Everbloom's Chaotic-with-a-dash-of-Lawful character? Or her half-elven heritage? He offers no elaboration.
"I am Lanatir, of Kyonin and of the First World."
He looks at the woman's revolver. "A most intriguing weapon. I know that many humans are particularly fond of them. You do not, after all, have decades to master the Elven Curve Blade."
There is some pity in his voice, perhaps. It doesn't seem that it is snideness masquerading as pity.
"I had once dismissed such innovations as a recourse for those without the discipline to learn skill and excellence, but I have come to understand that I was mistaken. There can indeed be skill and excellence in the construction and use of machines. I am sure your skills are exemplary."
Now having received another payment, it becomes clear that Zyrel's attitude to spending money can be summed up as "don't". Still, the trip through the markets (made in force in case of ambush) convinced him to part with a few coins.
After much deliberation he bought a leather wrap with dozens of tiny tools from a 'clockwork' shop, along with a number of springs, gears and straps.
While the group eat lunch he spends the entire half an hour he was waiting for the others to eat discretely observing a street hustler running a combination magic-show/card-game/shop from fifty feet away, and as they walk past proceeds to stop and buy two decks from the man as they pass - "one normal and one marked, please".
Finally he stops dead looking in the window of an antique shop, and immediately enters. He comes out afterwards with an uncharacteristic smile and some grimy, stained silk ribbons. "I remember these from the Crusade! The elites were all outfitted with them." he waves the wrappings. "I can't wait to try them!" he declares, then thinks better of it. "Actually, I can. I'm washing them first."
---
The boat trip is productive for Zyrel. He spends his time writing, practicing with his rifle when the captain allows, carving and assembling the various components he'd bought into wrist mounted devices, and playing cards with Lanatir while the others sleep.
A particularly obnoxious new 'training' regimen develops between the elves, consisting of Zyrel throwing things as fast as he could at Lanatir, who in turn would cut them from the air with his blade.
---
Zyrel stands the same height as Lanatir. He wears a bulky leather trenchoat with a stitching pattern that suggests plates have been sewn in. Under the trenchocat is a hooded floor length undercoat made from some sort of mottled fur, though the hood is thrown back to reveal bronzed skin and white hair. Upon his back is an enormous backpack, with a rifle, bow, quiver, spear, and long curved blade - each carefully attached for easy access. The outfit seems faintly ridiculous given the apparent weight and heat in Alkenstar's climate.
"Pleased to meet you Peaehs. I am Zyrel. A Warden - a border guard - from Kyonin." he introduces himself. "My speciality is sniping, but I have full military training and I can hold a line if needed." He trails off with a quick look at Lanatir.
"Please forgive my companion. Not all elves spend decades obsessively studying the curved blade - I myself have only spent the one - and understand that different weapons have their own niche. Do you have any skills apart from direct line shooting?"
Elsa shivers when she comes into the city.
I have heard stories about magic here failing. Not fond of that idea
"To think there are things out there that can sever the link between me and Abadar (may He be praised and exalted)." Aakif grimaces. "This land is cursed. Something truly profane occurred here long ago, and we continue to pay for such sin."
A particularly obnoxious new 'training' regimen develops between the elves, consisting of Zyrel throwing things as fast as he could at Lanatir, who in turn would cut them from the air with his blade.
Lanatir will gladly attempt this challenge.