Another rainy day in Daggermark. You've been in the City of Assassins and Poisoners now for two dreary days sipping expensive imported coffees in small corner cafe, and specialty book seller called The Last Drop. It is almost dinner time and there's been no sign of your contact, a half-orc explorer and freelance adventurer named Ulisha. She was supposed to be here yesterday wearing white and yellow daisies in her hat's hatband so you could recognize her, Daggermark being more of a tulip town. Instead you waited 10 hours in the coffee shop having to order expensive drinks to retain your seats.
According Janira Gavix your fellow Pathfinder and one-time instructor, and until yesterday, traveling companion, Ulisha is a bit of ne'er-do-well always in and out of trouble and here in the midst of the River Kingdoms, a collection of freebooting micro-realms and city-states one can get into all sorts of trouble. Apparently this time the trouble is too much for Ulisha to handle. She sent word to her contacts to get word to the Pathfinder Society with whom she has had an on again, off again relationship--to tell the Society that she is willing to part with an ancient druidic artifact--the legendary Silverhex. She is willing to sell it to the Society at a deep discount.... Unfortunately the only Society members to get the message and be close enough to reach her in time were yourselves and Janira who where supposed to be on a training mission of sorts to the River Kingdoms, but really it turned out to be an excuse for Janira to get to Daggermark for "important family business". By the time word reached your band there was no time to collect the money from a Lodge (in fact, Lodges are hard to come by in anywhere near the River Kingdoms. So instead the party headed to the clandestine meeting with only the money in their pockets hoping to buy time and get more information.
And so you've been waiting for two days in the expensive coffee shop forced to buy expensive coffee to ward off the stares of the severe-looking gnome barista, all while watching what little money you have disappear on room, board and, of course, coffee. Janira has gone off to her family leaving the group to its own devices, which as newly inducted Pathfinders are few indeed.
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Tawner nods at Dominic, his companion of sorts for the last few days, before standing up with the intention of heading up to his room. His excitement has waned over the last couple of days.
He wears a blue and gold mantle over a simple outfit, an unmistakable wooden symbol of Sarenrae hangs from his neck. His shiny scimitar and shield are upstairs looking as though they've never been used. His scale mail, however, is on his person.
I'm in the City of Assassins after all. He chuckles to himself.
"Dominic, could you hold my seat while I go to my room?" He looks over meaningfully at the barista and smiles—a gesture that is not returned by the Gnome. "I'll return soon."
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Lucy lounges on her chair, sipping a cup of coffee in one hand and reading a thick tome in her other... "A Handbook on Hanging, Being a short introduction to the fine art of Execution, and containing much useful information on Neck-breaking, Throttling, Strangling, Asphyxiation, and Decapitation. Even after only knowing her for a very short while, the others have learned it best not to ask where in the world Lucy finds such odd books. Her rabbit, a red eyed little monster with a habit of nipping at anyone who got to close to Lucy, sits on the top of her chair.
I hope that our contact shows soon... She sips her drink and sighs softly, a look of bliss on her face.
As much as I could enjoy finally drinking some serviceable coffee, If I don't get some pay soon, my coffers are going to run completely dry.
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He He looks over meaningfully at the barista and smiles—a gesture that is not returned by the Gnome. "I'll return soon."
.... The barista stares back a small crinkle forming upon her brow that seems to say: What-ever.
He wears a blue and gold mantle over a simple outfit, an unmistakable wooden symbol of Sarenrae hangs from his neck. His shiny scimitar and shield are upstairs looking as though they've never been used. His scale mail, however, is on his person.
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Tawner somehow remembers that this is just the spot he was to meet with Ulisha. His lodging is a couple of wet cobblestone streets away in another building.
"Nevermind," he says, and he sits back down.
He looks over to see what Lucy is reading, thinks better of it, and continues to watch the door. Why are the pretty ones always crazy?
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Dominic chuckles at Tawner and nods. "May the Lady Calistria look after you." He raises his cup in salute. While not everyone agreed with Calistria's tenants, they almost all joined in her worship sooner or later.
He smiles at Lucy and reads the title of her book. He rolls his eyes. "Lucy, if it's sting you're looking for, my mother would likely agree to teach you. She's a priestess of Calistria, and she's taught many a young person."
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Across the room, another pretty young woman - well, she looks young, but it's almost like she's some kind of preserved fruit, simultaneously young and ancient - has her nose deep in a book, one stamped to mark it as property of the Dark Archives libraries. Its title: The Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows, King James Edition. She doesn't seem to be reading the book so much as reviewing it for errors, as she periodically consults a large, neat pile of notes written in multiple hands other than her own, then adding her own notes to a separate, immaculate sheet of paper. Her expression shifts periodically between tiredness, annoyance, puzzlement, and amusement at whatever it is she's reading.
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Lucy smiles at Dominic as she flips through her pages.
Father had me spend some time with Calistria priests. They are most informative, but I find that their lust for vengeance makes them sloppy on some of the finer details. It can also make them unpredictable, which can be useful, but I don't like to muck up my math with variables if I can help it.
Her rabbit... squeeks? You're not sure exactly, and she reaches out and pats its head.
Though, to be fair, it was better than the months I spent in Nidal... While it was very educational, it's bad enough trying to predict people who would stab you in the back, try predicting people who stab themselves in the back for fun.
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As a priest himself, Tawner has been greeted in the name of many of the Gods of Golarion. In a way, it's comforting. Tawner smiles at Dominic's liturgical blessing. But it's possible that the others don't know Tawner's smile is genuine since it always comes off like he's just tasted rancid meat.
He should also be blessing folks with the forgiveness of Sarenrae. But he has a feeling that this discussion wouldn't go over well with the group. Particularly Lydia, which...
Tawner can see Lydia's shadow moving in ways that a person's shadow shouldn't.
What is he up to now?
Distracting himself from Lydia, Tawner asks the group, "Should we be doing something other than watching the door? I mean, we've been here two days."
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Dominic winces when he hears about Lucy's time in Nidal. "Yes, my mother often flirts with pain in the course of her duties, but usually only to enhance the pleasure. The Umbral Court...I don't really see the pleasure in that..."
"But my mother isn't really the vengeful sort..." He pauses, remembering some less comforting points of his childhood. "...well, ok, she can be. Actually, yes, you have a good point. But really, it's only when it's well-deserved."
He chuckles and shakes his head. "Both of you ladies with your nose in books! What fun will come of that?" He sips his coffee again. "Tawner, what fun can we have?"
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A pasty-looking man in dark clothes and a black cape takes to the small stage and begins a short reading.
"Ahem."
With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore
'Twas the night before Game Day, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The minis on the mantle had been painted with care,
in hopes that St. Jacobs soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of adventure played in their heads.
And Mama with her fighter, and my redeemed Darkfire Adept,
had just stolen into the lair of that false Razmiran sect.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like CW's Flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should into view dance,
but a miniature sleigh and eight writers who freelance!
With a haggard editor, fresh from an all-nighter,
I knew in a moment it must be Wes Schneider!
More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Tim! Now Amber!
Now, Greg and Russell!
On, Richard! On, Nick!
On, John and Michael!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wind elemental fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of gamer swag, and audio dramas too.
And then, craning my ear to the roof perpendicular
I could hear the heavy tread boots of each contributor.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney Young Wes came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fake fur, for they are not overfond
of that sort of thing in blue Washington's progressive Redmond.
A bundle of books he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddling librarian opening his pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was in need of a mow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He looked a bit high, and slightly less then regal,
but that's what you get in a State where pot is half-legal.
His character, a multi-class ninja, pirate, half-dinosaur elf,
its huge Hero Lab™ sheet made me laugh, in spite of myself.
With a wink of his eye and a flip of his thumb
he showed me the new archetype that was yet to come.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his editing work,
and corrected our character sheets, even Bill's the rules jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Game Day to all, and to all a good game night!"
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After listening politely to the man in the black cape orate a festive type of poem, Tawner turns to Dominic to answer his question, but keeps his voice low:
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Lucy adjusts a non-existent pair of glasses, stopping herself midway like it's a old habit she's never quite gotten rid of. She looks at the reader and gives a very polite, almost sarcastic clap.
Well done. The meter was only mostly atrocious. Any particularly reason why we've been treated to this little rendition?
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Lucy yawns and goes back to her book.
Perhaps, perhaps not. The purity or lack there of of one gold coin has no meaning to the purity of another. Your rhymes where forced and your meter only barely qualifies as such. Now, unless you have something better to do, or perhaps, some worthwhile poetry to read, I have a book to finish.
The rabbit on her shoulder hops to the banister and glares intently at the man in black, letting forth a growl that is much deeper than a rabbit has any right to give.
The thing might actually be intimidating if it weren't, you know, a tiny rabbit. Still, being glared at by a red eyed rabbit is a notable experience.
Hoping to avoid conflict, Tawner stands back up and tries to position himself between the two, paying no attention to what appears to be a normal rabbit.
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Lucy yawns and looks at the man with a raised eyebrow, weathering the tirade without even bothering to look up.
Would you mind stepping to the left for a moment, I've just gotten to the most interesting part....
She looks him in the eyes as they almost look black for a moment.
About just how long it can take a man to die if you snap their neck, and they merely suffocate from their own throat collapsing instead of killing them by severing the spinal cord.
The rabbit continues glaring.
Either he doesn't notice the threat, or Lucy comes off as more petulant and annoyed (Very possible) than scary.
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Dominic stands as the scene grows more tense. "Sir, just who are you? We were enjoying a quiet day here before you began your tirade."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"'I' sir? 'Who am I?' I am Professor Johnathan Hicks (though I pronounce it 'Hix' because it sounds cooler), Head of the Department of Post-Mortem Communications at Lepidstadt University. I have a doctorate in Post-Mortem Communication, I'm a DThau alum, and am an Impissimus Holder of the Silver Skull (third class). That is who I am, sir!"
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Lucy snaps her book shut, her annoyance growing as she stands.
And I... She says, her voice firm and decidedly angry. Am Lucina Malforix Galonnica of the Noble house Galonnica of Cheliax, servants to her Infernal Magistrex, Abrigail the Second of Thrice Damned house Thrune, graduate in contract studies and law from the infernal church of Asmodeous, and honorary librarian of the Infernal Library of Egorian having earned that status by participating in no less than 12 history revision and clarity pyres as part of my internship with the Order of the Rack.
She pokes the man in his chest with her book.
And I will not have some country bumpkin professor from a backwater city in a backwater country that doesn't know his stanza's from his meter lecture ME on propriety!
The rabbit growls in agreement.
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Lydia looks like she's about to say something, only to stop abruptly as her ear visibly perks up, as though somebody just whispered in it.
Seemingly spontaneously, she moves to the bookshelf behind Lucy, picks out what appears to be a leather-bound journal with a handful of daisies sticking out of it, and begins looking through it.
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Tawner reads the pages like the others. "So how will Ulisha know when we've done everything, and where to find us if she's not willing to meet us here now?"
He looks towards the door. "We've got to get our things...and antidotes against poison, sounds like. Although, I have some antitoxin, but we'll need more." His face scrunches up but it's really hard for the other to tell that fact. "Although!" He says, "Most of my money seems to have been spent on this coffee."
He looks at the others. "Heh, here we go!"
That feeling floods Tawner again. The ineffable feeling of usefulness! Something that can't be or needn't be explained. He stands a little taller and waits for the others.
The spot marked on Ulisha's journal map is a good 30 miles away in the depths of the Shroudwood.
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"I wish I could say I did. As you said, though, the most dangerous creatures here are, as usual, the Humans. The assassins have their own guild here, as do the local poisoners. That's why everyone's so polite. Not even the local leaders are beyond their reach." Lydia pauses pensively. "I've seen worse forms of government, actually."
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"... And so far, he's tipped better than you...." The barista considers.
Dominic stands. "Well, shall we head to the Shroudwood? Perhaps we should get some antitoxin. Spiders can be poisonous." He glances at Lucy and then to the barista.
He hands her several coins. "Love, would you send a drink to everyone in this room? Just tell them all it's from a friend, please." He winks at her.
With their newly purchased camping gear the group and the horrible shadow thing that follows Lydia wherever she goes, leave the city behind and make for the Shroudwood, a dark blot on the horizon that just grows bigger and darker the closer they get.
They walk through cheerless gray drizzle and through the surrounding farmland until human habitations grow scarce. In the wildlands beyond, they march through wet scrubland hills and thistle-filled dales until they reach the edge of the woods.
Down below in the valley, they can make out the light and smoke of the nearest farms miles away. But looming before them, taking up their entire view of the south, is the old forest with its grasping, claw-shaped trees and their darkly shadowed eaves.
It is evening, and what little light there was this day is fast failing.
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Lydia seems to enjoy the trek, but as the party gets closer to its destination she seems to get more and more distracted, as though someone is pestering her. She stops by the side of the road for a minute.
"Everyone? I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine...."
By now, everyone has noticed something odd - well, *at least* one odd thing - about Lydia: Not only is she so drained of color that she looks almost like a charcoal sketch of a person, but even the color around her seems to dim slightly wherever she goes. That unnerving effect momentarily spreads and intensifies, casting the twilight into a momentary midnight, as she begins an occult incantation:
"As the sky above me darkens,
so the night within me hearkens.
Release the shade that time forgot!
Fomalhaut!
FOMALHAUT!
"
With that, the light returns to the normal soft gloom of evening, but now....