After a very late night of carousing with a very interesting man at a local tavern the candidates for confirmation in the prestigious Pathfinder Society went their separate ways to prepare for their early-morning meeting which according to Janira one of the Lodge's newest field agents was in about four hours time. You knew you should have listened to her when as she was leaving she said you should get some sleep, but golly was that man interesting. You could have stayed there until dawn, and you almost did.
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Liv had been through worse than a hangover. She had once been cattle in Geb after all until she was able to buy herself a visa to leave.
She was gaunt, but surprisingly hardy for an elf after all of those years of being used by a vampire as a renewable energy source.
Fortunately, being an elf, the lack of sleep was not much of a problem. The interesting man was interesting enough that even she could not tear herself away - and generally speaking she did not, in fact, find things to be all that interesting.
Hence the pathfinder society's dark archive. Where the interesting might sometimes happen.
Being a new field agent was going to be an experience for certain.
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Ironshanks wakes with a start as the halfling bartender accidentally, or purposely, bumps up against the chair he'd passed out in at the Grand Lodge "Sorry about that Sir Dwarf, but didn't I overhear you joining up with that group for their Confirmation this morning?"
Ironshanks lurches to his feet, his knees creak and his neck pops "Ah s*&% yer right kid! Ironshanks are never late, I gotta move it!" The sound of his full plate and the groans from beneath it reveals the man really should've slept in something a bit more comfortable.
He tosses a couple coins on the table and scoops up his mug of ale and finishes it before clomping as quickly as a Dwarf might out of the bar. Listenin' ta stories and drinkin' too much. What a life!
Once outside Ironshanks tries to work the kinks out of his back, neck, knees and ankles as he stiffly hobbles towards the meeting.
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A human of average height comes through the door, breathing hard as if he had just ran very quickly to get here. He looks about the common room, eyes narrowed as he seeks specific people. Spotting them, he sports a grin, and quickly makes his way through the crowd to them.
"G'day to ye all. I be Duncan MacMhuirich o' the Clan MacMhuirich. I heard from my good buddy Xathos o' Varisia that ye be a lookin' fer a bard that can cast a heal spell or two. When I heard the word, I thanked the mon, finished my ale, and sprinted down here to meet with ye to see if ye still had room for a bard.
I be a singer o' songs and a right mean archer with me shortbow. If ye ha' the room, I be happy to accompany ye on this assignment. It would be me first as a Pathfinder too."
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Ironshanks walks in and looks around "A Dwarf, an Orc, and a human walk into a bar... " He rubs his sore neck and looks around for a sturdy chair.
"I ain't normally workin' with Orcs, but them Pathfinders put up strict rules 'bout playin' nice, so I'll be makin' the exception." He nods at Tusk but doesn't offer up a hand shake.
He then turns his attention to the man with the bow "Is there a reason ye be talkin' like a Dwarf kid? Maybe yer mum had a thing fer us short n stocky types? Wouldn't blame her..." He says with a chuckle. Sounds like a Dwarf but kinda looks like an Elf, think that one ran short on air a few times as a wee one.
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Ever the antisocial grump, Yangrit had left the party early, shortly after Janira. But not too shortly; she didn't want to give the impression that she valued the advice of a flighty halfling.
After a full night's rest, or at least full enough, she had arrived at the meeting place and waited like a stone statue for the other party members to arrive.
Her eyes narrow at the sight of the elf and half-orc, and there is an almost imperceptible curling of her lip. However, when she sees the other dwarf, her expression shows guarded respect. As long as he is honorable...
The invitation delivered last night was remarkably simple, especially given the importance of the occasion: “Start where it all began. Meet us at the Pig’s Paunch one hour before dawn.”
Situated in the Coins District near enough to the docks to catch the whiff of dead 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 Paunch is one of those places that that if you were to lay your head down on a table it would stick. When it is open for business its somehow seems to be made up of all dark corners and darker customers with the darkest of intents. Who, you wonder, would be crazy enough to want to meet you here?
The Pig’s Paunch is a run-down building, situated in a shabby back-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-wrong place.
Inside, the air is thick with the scents of stale human sweat, stale tobacco, and staler leftover food. The floorboards creak, and are sticky. There seems to be no conscious patrons 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 folds her clothing and fat lumbers ponderously to each unresponsive lout in turn with a small mirror to check on their level of morbidity.
"Certainly the guard's purse...." Mutters the thief listening from up ahead.
"Well, there's not else left to do here so I assume you're here for more than the view." The woman says to Duncan, showing off some stubbly ankle and waggling her eyebrows.
"So, what do you say?" She nods over to the stairway, smiling toothlessly. She puts her cigar stub out on the underside of one of the tables.
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Duncan settles in at the bar and shakes his head at the old woman. "As beautiful as ye be, lass, I cannae break me oath to me wife. She be expecting our first child inside o' two months. I would be a poor husband if I were to break me solemn oath to the love o' me life."
He motions for an ale and upon receiving it, raises it up and nods conspiratorially to the woman. Speaking in a low tone he says, "Now, there be another man coming along shortly who might very well take ye up on yer offer. He be a right strong fella too and I know he not be the marrying type. Ye know though, truth be told, he might be a bit too much for ye."
Duncan takes a swig from the ale and sets it down. Holding his hands up and about 14 inches apart, he winks at the woman and smiles at her while raising one eyebrow.
After that exchange, he looks over at the dwarf and grins. "When Two-Blade gets here, I'll ha' a song for him, doncha be a' worryin' bout that."
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Liv snickers A human? Do I look blind at night to you?
Her gaunt, almost alabaster procelain skin betrays her severe anemia but she does still bear all the elven features.
Liv asks for water and some salty crackers Fat and alcohol this early disagrees with my delicate system. You should try it some time Nanny Ogg. A little bit of temperance does the soul some good. Excess pleases no one and nothing. Is this really where we were supposed to meet for our 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 attendance to take seats around him, while he quickly scans a fistful 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. He begins to read: "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—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 tiptoes 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 again. Shaine laughs, nods, and pantomimes smacking his forehead with the heel of his palm—as if to say to the halfling: Doh! Silly 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 is 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 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."
"And that friends is the focus of your mission!" 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 to give us a full report on your findings. Anyhow, must dash Liavara is calling.”
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.
"Heheh, questions?"
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Earlier: Almost on cue, Duncan's predictions come true as Tusk slides in next to Duncan 'nudging' him aside.
"He's not the man fer you, lass, lessen' ya prefer poetry and romancin'. Probly got kicked out of the house for borin' the poor missus. Now, if you are lookin' fer a REAL man, we got a good 15 minutes before he finishes his beer."
Now: "Just so ya know, my writin' ain't so good. So I don' figure I'll be doin' much o the reportin'. The wee one there and the bard fellow can follow wit their pens and paper. Works fer me."
He eyes the pale woman briefly and is about to add something, but, for whatever reason, doesn't and rubs his throat.
Now there's an odd one.
So are we to you know... and slashes her throat with her finger nail, just a touch. Her skin tears like paper but a surprisingly light amount of blood falls out.
"Probably."
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Duncan stands up and begins to sing.
"Woman is unstable
like the feather in the wind
she changes tone
and thought.
Always a loveable
cute face
in tears or smiling
it says lies
Woman is unstable
like feather in the wind
she changes tone
and thought,
and thought,
and thought!
He’s always miserable
the one who trusts her
that he confides to her
his unwary heart!
In order not ever feel
completely happy,.
Who in this breast
doesn’t taste love
Woman is unstable
like feather in the wind
she changes tone
and thought,
and thought,
and thought!
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Refusing to acknowledge all the shenanigans of her comrades around her, Yangrit gets right to the point. She has a list of questions, but keeps her initial query succinct.
"How far are these caves, and how safe is the route?" Her question comes across as gruff, but her eyes shine with interest. Now that they're getting down to business, she's clearly in a better mood.
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Telos raced through the streets with sweat starting to bead on his forehead.
"Start where it all began. Meet us at the Pig’s Paunch one hour before dawn."
He stops to catch his breath and as he looks out over the docks and into the bay, he notices the sea's black expanse get the first golden tinge of sunrise.
Uh oh. Not good.
Telos had gotten a little carried away the night before. Nobody would accuse the arrogant young sorcerer of being humble, but an evening of taking in The World's Most Interesting Stories (TM) from an uncanny man involved an ample quantity of liquid courage. He'd arrived late to this gathering and frankly hadn't paid attention to who was who. Or maybe they'd gone over introductions earlier.
With his additional courage he approached the spunky halfing he noticed in the tavern. At first it went well enough, she seemed genuinely interested in his arcane powers. Impressing Pathfinder recruiters and a pretty lady in one day, of course. He invoked his charm, made her laugh and they talked at length. Finally he figured he was doing well enough to invite her to join him somewhere more... private.
That's when things turned. She cocked her head and laughed uncomfortably, eyeing him with a look of confusion. He gets a sudden dejected feeling as she abruptly walks away. She then looks around the tavern and announced that all should be sure to get rest before the big day tomorrow. That's weird. What does she care about these drunks? I thought I was entertaining her way more than any of these rabble.
With nothing to lose he proceeded to drown his losses in more whiskey that one would suppose fits in a halfling. Now he was paying for it. Finally he finds the place. Taking one last moment to gather himself, and vomit at the side of the building, he attempts to inconspicuously slink through the door. As he quietly crosses over to the end of the bar he hears the other recruits already asking questions about some previously discussed mission. Nevermind, I'll pick up the details as we go along.
Then he hears the voice answering the questions and looks up to see the face of the halfing woman...
Uh oh...
His face turns red at the mutual recognition.
Duncan thinks to himself, "This guy is running the show? He can't even find the right list!"
"Master Shaine has a rather off-beat approach to life, but I guess when you are as experienced as he is you are allowed."
Refusing to acknowledge all the shenanigans of her comrades around her, Yangrit gets right to the point. She has a list of questions, but keeps her initial query succinct.
"How far are these caves, and how safe is the route?" Her question comes across as gruff, but her eyes shine with interest. Now that they're getting down to business, she's clearly in a better mood.
"Excellent questions! Before I pitch in my knowledge does anyone else here know about the Kortos Mounts, or perhaps about the history of the Gillwomen? How about I get my fellow halfling to start us out. Yes, you." She points to the late arrival. "What do you know about the Kortos Mounts and gillwomen?"
Duncan stands up and begins to sing.
"Woman is unstable
like the feather in the wind
she changes tone
and thought.Always a loveable
cute face....
Completely ignoring Tusk, the woman says to Duncan: "That's beautiful. What's it called?"
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It only gets worse when she leans in and calls on him. He'd hoped she would avoid him too. He's certainly still foggy after the previous evening and facts are pretty far from his mind, much worse in subjects that he didn't train in...
"The what mountains and who's women...? Sorry I didn't sleep well." He mutters the last part and looks away sharply, hoping Janira quickly turns her attention elsewhere.
This is going to be a long mission...
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REALLY!? Feathers and love? Its worse than I thought! And she LIKES it. Good gods, they deserve each other.
"Bah!"
Tusk dismisses the pair and gives his full attention to the bosses, though his eyes glaze over as soon as they start talking about history and such. The part about exploring a mysterious cave sounds good though.
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PREPARED AGENT (2+ goals): You are more prepared for missions than most Pathfinders. When you attempt a Knowledge check as a part of an adventure’s mission briefing, treat all Knowledge skills as trained. Once per adventure, you can add a bonus equal to half the number of goals you have completed to one Knowledge check or Diplomacy check to gather information.
You Rescued the Minotaur Prince: You rescued Nuar Spiritskin, the Minotaur Prince of Absalom and he is quite grateful that you have done so. Though he is absolutely unclear how he got into the Tangle in the first place, he pays this no mind and spreads the tale of your daring-do to his many contacts throughout the city. You gain a permanent +1 Circumstance bonus to any Intelligence or Charisma-based checks made while in Absalom.
Seeing how the rest of these young uns don't know which way is up, Ironshanks finally pipes up to partially answer Yangrit's question. "Ain't any of you gone fer a walk on this island bafore? The Kortos are the mountains inland, about a day n a half as a Dwarf walks. I ain't never heard of them gill men/women/folk things. They sound fishy."
His head still feeling a bit wonky, and his old joints stiff, Ironshanks hollers over to Nanny Ogg "How 'bout an ale n a shot o whiskey fer myself. Gotta get these old joints lubed up if we're headin' fer them Mounts."
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"It is "La Donna e mobile" from the Rigoletto. It be a right catchy song."
Duncan overhears Janira asking a question about the Kortos Mounts and the gillfolk. He considers what he knows about them.
"Me trainin' in the use o' me voice for opera left me wee time to peruse geography. I doan be recallin' meeting no gillfolk either. They must not be opera goers."
[b]"Madame, this here be Tusk. He be the one I told you bout," as he spreads his hands out about 14 inches. "He be a right fearsome warrior o' his people. I'll be a leavin' you two love birds alone so ye ken start gettin' acquainted. Duty calls."
He bows to them and sets off to join the others gathered around Janira.
His head still feeling a bit wonky, and his old joints stiff, Ironshanks hollers over to Nanny Ogg "How 'bout an ale n a shot o whiskey fer myself. Gotta get these old joints lubed up if we're headin' fer them Mounts."
"We aren't open for another six hours, and I've got to gets me my beauty sleep." the woman snaps, obviously tired of Duncan's 'hard to get' act.
We're doomed.
Desperate now Janira turns to her last resort. "Liv? Did you have anything to add?"
"I'll take that a 'no'. Well, gillwomen are also known as Low Azlanti, they are an amphibious humanoid race believed to be the last direct descendants of the ancient Azlanti people. During Earthfall, when the Starstone struck Golarion and destroyed the human empires of Thassilon and Azlant, it is thought that the gillwomen’s ancestors survived the cataclysmic event because they received the blessing of an aquatic entity that allowed them to breath underwater. Since then they have adapted to a near-fully aquatic lifestyle."
"Is everyone ready to head out? The full moon is tomorrow night, so there's no time for dawdling."
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Ironshanks grimaces a bit at the booze rebuff, but who is he to argue with the waitstaff at this time of day. "Aye, Ironshanks are always ready to go." He slowly and stiffly begins to rise to his feet and sling his pack over his shoulders.
"Anyone got anythin' for note takin'? I gotta say, my other missions were more of the axe n shield type than the pen n paper stuff."
Dang! That half-pint likes the gold piece words, don't she. What the hell is an anfibeos human-oid, anyway? Anti-fibbing or something? I wonder if she would repeat that in Orc. Nah, not worth it.
"I will run into a shop and pick up a journal and writing supplies as we head out of Absalom, friend dwarf. I am ready for an adventure! There are sonatas begging to be written of our journey, so let us set forth."
He hops up and heads for the door.
"Good plan! We'll be passing the marketplace just as it is opening this morning. Master Shaine is going to require good notes from all of you." She passes out some basic writing supplies and looks at Tusk meaningfully as she does so. "Beyond that, the Kortos Mounts are home to centaurs who control the lowlands and surrounding wilderness. It's part of the reason we're not taking horses--centaurs are sort of touchy about people riding equines. The areas farther up the Mounts are controlled by minotaurs, and the icy peaks are home to tribes of harpies. They’re always vying for territory, but with any luck, we should be able to avoid them and reach the caves without conflict. Then of course there’s always the chance we may run into bandits along the way, and there are dozens of kinds of predators in that forest. That’s why we should always be as prepared as possible."
”Yeah, ready.”
"Are you sure? Food? Camping gear? Climbing gear? Antitoxin? Lanterns, and oil? 5-foot-poles?"
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Ironshanks waves his hand at the litany of weaponry and shield he has at his disposal as well as a bulging backpack "I got the weapons and the armor. I got some rope and climbing stuff. I got MY food n water, I even got one of them healin' sticks they give out after yer first mission. I ain't got any of that other stuff, you all can bring that if ya needs it."
What I ain't got is any more ale or a few whiskey's ta get my head right this mornin'!
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”Yeah, ready.”"Are you sure? Food? Camping gear? Climbing gear? Antitoxin? Lanterns, and oil? 5-foot-poles?"
Telos shakes a bit more of the grogginess out of his head and gains just enough clarity to answer.
"I have most of what I need from that list yes, and food and water. Cold iron weapons. My spells fill in some of the gaps. I could stop off for an antitoxin perhaps, if the gillfolk are known for poisoning their foes, or those who startle them."
Telos looks over at Yangrit and shrugs. "Yes, I have no idea what five-foot poles are for. Perhaps she wants to get some fishing in on this trip."