And so the candidates for confirmation in the prestigious Pathfinder Society went their separate ways to prepare for their early-morning meeting which was in about five hours time.
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Lydia spends the gloaming the way she spends many a gloaming: Walking through a graveyard alternating her gaze between the inscriptions, the stars, and her latest book.
While Lydia is sitting on one of the headstones and deep in her book, a young Human man comes nearby, probably having been sent to explore the graveyard on some puerile dare.
"Hark, fair maiden, are you alright?" He calls out in a timid voice when he spots Lydia. "This is no place for the weak of heart!"
His attempt at sounding brave is spoiled when the shadow of some great ghastly horror stretches across the face of a nearby mausoleum and begins stretching long claws toward the man, who runs screaming into th distance before tripping over an old headstone and knocking himself out!
Lydia looks up at the sudden noise, turns her head with nearly-but-not-quite the completeness of an owl, and seeing nothing, goes back to her reading.
From somewhere behind her comes a hearty chuckle, like the crunching of Autumn leaves.
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Tawner met with another friar after leaving the Flaxseed to continue room and board at the abbey. There were many such sites dedicated to the Goddess Sarenrae here in Absalom. He had been here a week, but as with his order he was to move on and provide support where called. The Pathfinder Society was an interesting distraction and would not necessarily delay his current assignment.
Though no cot was available tonight, he had his bedroll. And as he laid down his head, he paused, feeling…excited? No, more like useful.
He asked for no call in the morn. She would wake him. He could feel it.
Hallimir is asleep in a dark corner of the Pig's Paunch having requested that he be woken when the time comes.
The Paunch is a rowdy establishment that doesn't really settle down until a little after the town crier marks the second hour of the new day.
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The Paunch is a rowdy establishment that doesn't really settle down until a little after the town crier marks the second hour of the new day.
"It's pronounced 'Hal:i:meer'" he says as he takes the letter from the Gnome.
Knowledge(local) 1d20 + 4 => (17) + 4 = 21
"The Pig's Paunch...sounds like fun. Who's in?"
Knowing this detail about the Pig's Paunch, Hallimir retires to his room at the Grand Lodge for a few hours rest. He heads to the Pig's Paunch just before the required time.
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El Garrapata spends the evening dozing in a common room at a pub called the Greedy Goat. It wasn't a nice pub, per se, but whenever he showed up to bounce at the door, they chased him away much more nicely than most. And the barmaid, Lorri, was very friendly and would occasionally share her worries and woes with him, to which he would respond with encouraging nuggets of wisdom and intelligence, such as "Steel your soul for JUSTICE!" or "Truly Anna's stealing of your tips shows she is a FIEND in DISGUISE and must be stopped!" Still, she let him sleep in the common room and he was definitely graceful, even if Larry the cook had a bad habit of spooning with him.
However as the staff began to wake, Lorri shook him awake and he sprang up ready for action. He heads to the Paunch, humming a jaunty and inadvertantly raunchy tune as he goes.
Situated in the Coins District near enough to the docks to catch the whiff of fish over the smell of its closer neighbors: the hog market, and the tanner's workhouse; the Pig's Paunch is the sort of place your grandpa might hang out in were you an elf, and your grand a former inmate in a maximum security Chelish penal colony, or perhaps a former Shackles pirate.
The Pig’s Paunch is a run-down building, in a dark alleyway, in an unfavorable part of town that should have its own wall and guards faced in upon it to keep the rest of the metropolis safe. A faded sign of a comical pig in friar's robes, its arms folded over its corpulent belly indicates that you are indeed in the right place.
"Certainly the guard's purse...." Mutters the thief.
Inside, the air is thick with the scents of human sweat, stale tobacco, and leftover food. The floorboards creak, and are sticky. There seems to be no conscious patron's about though there are one or two, who might be asleep, unconscious, or perhaps dead. A hideously disheveled washer-woman with the stub of a smoldering cigar, and red lacy bits of her unmentionables poking out from her folds lumbers ponderously to each unresponsive lout in turn with a small mirror to check.
"Well, there's no one else left here so I assume you're here for more than the view." The woman says to Sidi, showing off some stubbly ankle. "So, what do you say." She nods to the stairway.
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Tawner walks towards the Pig’s Paunch in a confident manner. He is wearing the same blue and gold mantle from the night before, but underneath that a satin-like sheen of scale mail moves with his frame. He carries a backpack and bedroll that stretch across his shoulders. A scabbardless, inornate scimitar hooks easily in to his belt and is hanging from his left side—indicating that he would draw it into his right arm. The sword looks new with no indication of ever being used. A heavy steel shield is somehow attached to his backpack. Also unused. A matching set.
He stops to look around and 'tsks' at the sign.
Seeing nothing he heads inside.
Tawner could feel the sun spreading over his face. He woke slowly, opening his eyes after a moment. Yet darkness still held the night. It was she who woke him—Sarenrae. He sat up, stiffly, but quickly. There was too much to do before meeting at the Pig’s Paunch. He’d try to remember to say something sarcastic about that name later, but for now he sat crossing his legs.
He closed his eyes as he spoke in a singsong whisper.
“Great Dawnflower! By your wisdom, prepare me for your journey today. I ask for your blessings so that I may bless others.”
There, with a movement of his hands he showed supplication. He breathed deeply and continued to chant until time was no longer a mortal concern of his.
“Great Dawnflower! By your kindness, lessen my wounds as I lessen those around me.”
More gesticulating. He continued to chant.
“Sarenrae!” He blurted out, before composing himself. “Grant me your divine favor! that I may stand before those who oppose you.”
He held motionless, and continued to meditate…absorbing the warmth spreading over him.
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Airyn arrives early in the morning. Unsure about the area, he keeps to shadows and attempts to remain unseen.
When he steps into the establishment, he takes a quick look around. Seeing and hearing, the two other men in loud conversation, he moves to the nearest corner to watch and listen.
Were they to look over, they would see a wispy man in wooden armor with a sickle on his belt. His shoulder-length hair drifts lazily in an unfelt breeze. He sets his backpack and bedroll beside him.
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"Well, there's no one else left here so I assume you're here for more than the view." The woman says to Sidi, showing off some stubbly ankle. "So, what do you say." She nods to the stairway.
Sidi opens one eye slowly. Noting no (immediate) threat from the woman, he opens the other eye and stretches his back as he rises into a sitting position. He turns his head, which results in several sharp cracks from his neck.
"No. No thank you, miss," he declines her offer, "I was sent here to receive an assignment, but they did not leave me enough time for a proper sleep."
The tall man runs his tongue over his fuzzy teeth. "I will take your best--Mmm, I will take what ever you have to drink at this hour that does not have piss in it."
He does his best to bat the wrinkles out of his robe while he waits for the others. By the time they do arrive, he has rubbed the sleep out of his face, rinsed his teeth in whatever swill is served, and stretched the tightness out of his muscles.
"Ah, El. Your ability to project is confirmed," he says, massaging his forehead with one hand. "Tanner, right?"
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It is still dark when Hallimir approaches the Pig’s Paunch, his black cloak drawn around him, concealing all but a few features of his face. Hidden beneath, his hand placed lightly on the hilt of a slightly curved dagger, ready to be drawn at the first sign of trouble.
Seeing Airyn slip quietly down an alley, Hallimir looks around and sees the sign indicating that he is indeed in the right place.
He follows Airyn into the building, lowers his hood and greets the others.
“Good Morning Gentlemen, I see you managed to find your way to this, err……fine establishment” , he says as he glances around with look of distaste.
Gesturing at Tawner’s symbol of Sarenrae, Hallimir says quietly with a smirk on his face, “You do have skills in healing poison and disease don’t you...we may require your assistance if we linger in this place for too long.”
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Lydia makes her way toward the Pig's Paunch at a brisk pace as the sun begins to rise, almost as if she is trying to outrun it.
Lydia narrows her eyes as she views the proceedings. A thief is one thing, but if there's one thing Lydia can't stand, it's a mob. She's had too many nightmares of little, torch-bearing Humans....
"Hide your fires, baleful star," whispers a familiar voice from behind her. "You're starting to think like someone we know...someone THIRSTY FOR JUSTICE!"
"Hold that thought," she hisses back as she enters the Paunch.
Her party is not hard to spot - particularly not the loud man in blue.
"Hello, everyone. I am sorry I'm late. I was just taking in the local color," She says, only barely aware of the bizarre irony of her using that idiom. "It seems Abadar's finest have a very well-ordered system around here: The weak take advantage of this district's houses of ale, thieves take advantage of the weak, and the Watch takes advantage of the thieves' taking advantage of the weak. Mr. Garrapata, I am no expert on righteous vigilance, but would it happen to involve watching the Watch? They wouldn't have gone very far, and it seems they forgot to return someone's stolen gold."
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"Close," Tawner replies to the big man, "It's Tawner but, heh, I've answered to 'Hey you' and such."
“May I see your scars?” He asks permission, though he can clearly see the twisted, patchwork skin around Sidi’s neck. That bothers Tawner the most.
Why must his neck have been restrained as were his arms?
“You have endured much. I’d offer you my sympathy, but I suspect you’re stronger because of your suffering.” He gives Sidi a knowing nod and offers his hand.
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“Hallimir. Indeed.” Tawner realizes that he was touching the angelic ankh of Sarenrae at the mention of her name. “Good to see you’ve made it. For what it’s worth, this place isn’t any worse that those districts of the downtrodden I've been in.”
Tawner tries to smile, but with his near-permanent squint and his upturned lips it always seems to come off as if he had bit his own tongue. Still, the smile spreading over his countenance is genuine.
And then something strange happens. He sees a young woman, pale in the light of the Pig's Paunch.
She’s beautiful!
Tawner offers both his hands as if to shake and pat at the same time. Then considering it, he puts one hand down at his side.
Ten girls at the Lazy Saddle could not weigh the scales in their favor against her visage.
"Uh, confirmation?"
A familiar-looking elven man enters and looks as fondly upon the scene, as a man might his favorite slippers. It is Dean Kreighton Shaine, Venture-Captain, and Master of Scrolls of the Pathfinder Society. He alights upon the raised tier of tables, in the center of the room, surrounded by the inebriates (or the dead) from last night's festivities, and takes a cross-legged seat upon a table. Then he beckons the would-be Pathfinder's in attendence to take seats around him, while he quickly scans a fistfull of papers he's brought with him.
After a bit of sheet flipping and puzzled muttering the Dean rises to stand upon the table and address the party in an obvious morning-person voice, even though the sun has yet to rise. "Welcome! Welcome, my students! Please, have a seat if they haven't already!”
He quickly scans his notes again.
The Master of Scrolls, resumes his cross-legged seat upon the table. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and releases it, as if trying to steep himself in the place's atmosphere. He opens his eyes, and looks about the tavern with a sense of reverent wonder. “Can you believe it? It all started here years ago—well, over four-hundred of them at least. Under this very roof the Pathfinder Society was born."
One of the drunks moans, and turns his head in his stupor.
“But today! Today you will begin your Confirmation! Master Farabellus, Master Zey, and I all agree you each have shown your worth, and dedication to the Society, so there’s no better time to see if you can handle becoming full field operatives. Allow me to introduce you to Janira Gavix,” he says and motions for the halfling woman from the night before to approach out of the kitchen area. She wears a large backpack and carries all manner of tools, pouches, and scroll cases around her waist. As comes in and looks at the would-be Pathfinders her face takes on a look of surprise, and confusion.
She goes to Shaine's table rising up on tip-toes to speak with him. He leans toward her, and she whispers something in his ear. He looks gobsmacked for a moment, and then digs into his pockets. After a moment he produces a piece of paper with what looks like a short list of names. He hands it to Janira who looks it over and shakes her head in the negative. The Dean frowns. He turns out his other pockets until his comes up with another list. Janira inspects it and frowns. Shaine laughs, nods, and pantomimes smacking his forehead with the heel of his palm, and looking comedically dazed--as if to say to the halfling: Boy, was that stupid of me.
Janira's frown does not change. If anything it gets deeper.
Ignoring the look, the Master of Scrolls continues on. “Janira here
will be going with you on your Confirmation."
Janira looks even more confused. She looks as if she doesn't understand what is happening. Her head shakes back and forth as if she were thinking of saying "No". In fact she looks as if she wants to escape.
"She was one of my brightest pupils." Master Shaine continues. "She will no doubt be an invaluable resource on your journey, for she discovered the caves you are about to explore during her own Confirmation.”
Janira looks momentarily defeated, but rallies quickly. Her broad smile only seeming slightly forced.
“Greetings, aspiring Pathfinders!" She says through slightly gritted teeth. "Six months ago, while I was mapping cave entrances in the foothills of the Kortos Mounts, I witnessed a lone male gillwoman entering a concealed cave. I thought little of it at the time, but I saw another one enter the cave again a month later as my Confirmation stretched on. A few days later, after I completed my assigned task, I entered the cave system, but was unable to find the gillwomen."
Master Shaine hops back to his feet. “Initiates, for your Confirmation, you will travel to these caves to explore and document its many passages. Additionally, and most importantly, you are to learn what the gillmen are up to in there. Oh, and you need to come back alive as well.” With these parting words, the Master of Scrolls collects his papers, jumps off the table, and strolls into the kitchen area while humming to himself. A long moment later, he returns, angrily mutters the word "Pantry" and then exits through the front door.
"Questions?"
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"Obviously, most mortal folk must have both men and women among them, so why are the two of you trying to passive-aggressively insist on one or the other? That's very silly. Why not call them Gillmenschen? Simple, dignified, accurate, and complete."
"Also: What's in the pantry?"
Lydia frowns and stomps on the space of floor just behind her for some reason.
"Umm...If you've explored these caverns yourself, Janira, what did you see? What caused you to turn back?"
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Hearing the strange voice for the first time, Hallimir looks quizzically at Lydia, then slowly returns his attention to Janira.
Male Gillwomen......I thought he said she was his brightest student?
"Speaking of Pantry, I do believe breakfast is in order"
Hallimir sits quietly and retreives a small bag of berries and nuts from his pack while he waits for Janira to answer the others.
"Obviously, most mortal folk must have both men and women among them, so why are the two of you trying to passive-aggressively insist on one or the other? That's very silly. Why not call them Gillmenschen? Simple, dignified, accurate, and complete."
"Also: What's in the pantry?"
"Umm...If you've explored these caverns yourself, Janira, what did you see? What caused you to turn back?"
"The Master of Scrolls is quite old for an elf and a bit stuck in his ways. You should have seen him hitting Nanny last time I was here." *shivers* "Anyhow, I have tried to impress upon him the inherit sexism of the old naming conventions that have left us with gillmen, mongrelmen, and others. He still calls lizardfolk, 'lizardmen' for Desna's sake! So I got in the habit of using the femine version whenever I could, since its seems just as valid, especially among huwomans. Speaking of, where is Nanny?"
A loud voice floats out from the back. "I'm in the pantry! Send that big stud back! I think I've found his drink but there's no light. Heheh!"
"Oh? Eww.... Well I guess that answers your second question. I didn't stay to examine the caves in detail. They are actually pretty deep and I was done with my mission, but I made sure to note as much as could which in turn lead to this expedition. That reminds me do you all have material for taking notes? You'll never get anywhere in the society without being able to turn in a detailed report."
Airyn watches the exchange with fascination, then moves closer to Janira, "What are these gillmen- er, women? Are they from the Plane of Water?"
"Well, I know a little bit about the subject, but what do you all know?"
"Speaking of Pantry, I do believe breakfast is in order"
"You wanna eat here?" Janira squeaks.
Hallimir sits quietly and retreives a small bag of berries and nuts from his pack while he waits for Janira to answer the others.
"Oh? Well that's safer at least. But we haven't much time. I hope you all brought your travel gear because we're heading out of the city pretty much immediately. We have to get to the caves by tomorrow evening and the trip's gonna take about a day and a half. It's part of the test. To see how prepared you are for the unexpected. So I suggest we get a move on, we can learn more about each other on road. Also we can hit the market on the way out if you need to pick up food, or other last minute gear. They should just be opening."
She slings her pack on to her back, and looks ready for the open road.
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"The Master of Scrolls is quite old for an elf and a bit stuck in his ways. You should have seen him hitting Nanny last time I was here." *shivers* "Anyhow, I have tried to impress upon him the inherit sexism of the old naming conventions that have left us with gillmen, mongrelmen, and others. He still calls lizardfolk, 'lizardmen' for Desna's sake! So I got in the habit of using the femine version whenever I could, since its seems just as valid, especially among huwomans.
"I am older than I look, myself, and my understanding from when I was a little girl is that up until sometime this past century, the meaning of the Taldane word "Man" was different than it is now. It was not sexist - but it was Humanist. "Men" referred to the Human race of both sexes. Human diplomats to the courts of Elves and Dwarves and others would introduce themselves as "of the Race of Men," even if they were women. In the case of Gill...menschen, there is a certain sense in calling them GillMEN, since I think they're an offshoot of the Human race, so that is probably what he means. To say something like 'LizardMEN,' on the other hand...there are too many Humans in this world, and it makes them arrogant."
Speaking of, where is Nanny?"A loud voice floats out from the back. "I'm in the pantry! Send that big stud back! I think I've found his drink but there's no light. Heheh!"
"Oh? Eww.... Well I guess that answers your second question. I didn't stay to examine the caves in detail. They are actually pretty deep and I was done with my mission, but I made sure to note as much as could which in turn lead to this expedition. That reminds me do you all have material for taking notes? You'll never get anywhere in the society without being able to turn in a detailed report."
"But of course I have ink, parchment, and stationery! They're the best friends I've ever had!"
Lydia cocks, then shakes, her head slightly.
"They are *amongst* the best friends I've ever had. Anyways...."
"Yes, as I was saying earlier..." She pauses for no apparent reason for a second. "The Dinnermensc-I MEAN, the *Gillmenschen,* or the Low Azlanti as they prefer to be known because they're poncy pr-they're said to be the last living remnants of the true Azlanti Humans, but as usual the fools don't realize they'd be much b-" Lydia slams her hand over her mouth before saying any more, then turns around and gives the floor behind her a stern look.
"Anyway, that's about as much as...I can remember. Anyone know any more?"
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"...Are they from the Plane of Water?"
Was he here last night? Why have I not noticed him before?
Tawner is used to a slower pace at the temples. This rushing around. And now he needs some parchment and a quill? He eyes the unfamiliar man for a second before turning to Janira.
“Janira. I have just one question. How much does this p...” He watches as the Elf rushes in to the kitchen and rushes out the door.
<sigh> Typical
He turns his attention back to the Halfling woman. “How much does this pay? Seems like I’ve got to pick up some stuff at the market, and, well, why do I get the feeling that you don’t want to be here? I guess that’s two questions. ”
A foreboding trickles in to Tawner's mind like a rivulet eroding away the landscape and coalescing into a yawning river. He steps back. Straining in the dim light to see. To steady himself.
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El Garrapata watches the back and forth between the old elf and the young halfling with interest, but very little actual comprehension. "I am excited by the prospect of meeting this gill-folk of indeterminate gender! I am at your SERVICE, oh fearless leader! LEAD ON!" He smiles broadly and marches toward the door, confident that he is being lead to ADVENTURE!
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"Close," Tawner replies to the big man, "It's Tawner but, heh, I've answered to 'Hey you' and such."
“May I see your scars?”
"They are not much hidden," Sidi comments as he unconsciously rubs his wrists.
“You have endured much. I’d offer you my sympathy, but I suspect you’re stronger because of your suffering.” He gives Sidi a knowing nod and offers his hand.
The giant Bas'o man's hand engulfs Tawner's hand as he grips it. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I would have flourished had I lived my whole life free and become something greater than I am. We will never know."
He turns his attention to the Master of Scrolls once he arrives.
"Janira," he says with a bow of the head, "I hope to not disappoint." He murmurs low and mostly to himself, "Though I may be busy shepherding a pair of lambs in wolves clothing."
"I'm in the pantry! Send that big stud back! I think I've found his drink but there's no light. Heheh!"
"I am not falling for that old trick!" he calls back.
He slings his large pack over his shoulder and stands, bending down to pick up the large carved club, and turns his attention back to Janira. "I believe that I am ready."
"I am older than I look, myself, and my understanding from when I was a little girl is that up until sometime this past century, the meaning of the Taldane word "Man" was different than it is now. It was not sexist - but it was Humanist.
"You mean huwomanist! You see to make up for the fact that men got top billing for so long when it came to naming their species I have decided to swim against the prevailing winds and add my weight to feminine-kind's push for equality, by changing the male-sounding nouns describing whole species into female ones. See?"
"But of course I have ink, parchment, and stationery! They're the best friends I've ever had!"
Lydia cocks, then shakes, her head slightly.
"They are *amongst* the best friends I've ever had. Anyways...."
Janira grows concerned. He places a comforting hand on Lydia's knee. "It's okay my little sister Dolly was shy too. She even had a paper doll named Scrolly."
Airyn cocks his head to the side, "Well, where do these gillfolk come from? Do they really have gills? I am unfamiliar with the denizens of this plane."
He looks around at the others in the tavern, "Very unfamiliar."
"Well then it's good we're going out to get some air. I'll explain what I know on the way, but for now does everyone have their gear? There's unfriendly bands of minotaurs, and harpies, and some very suspicious centaurs out where we're going. Oh and food, and bedding! It's damn uncomfortable sleeping under the stars during a hailstorm."
He turns his attention back to the Halfling woman. “How much does this pay? Seems like I’ve got to pick up some stuff at the market, and, well, why do I get the feeling that you don’t want to be here? I guess that’s two questions. ”
"Ur? 'Pay'?"