The Pathfinders receive a letter from Sheila Heidmarch explaining the details of their mission...
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High in Skyreach tower a young half-Elven man of Varisian decent with numerous facial tatoos of Thassalonian script is shuffling through several tomes. He is wearing a light, airy robe without much ostentatious decoration, and his shoulder-length dirty blonde hair, normally worn slicked back, is currently frazzled from numerous frustrated fingers being run through it. The tomes including such titles as “So you want to learn about the planes,” “Planar travel 101,” and “Grundersnutt’s introductory guide to the planes.” He puts down his current book and lets out a frustrated groan.
”Ugh, why didn’t the Runeguards teach me ANY of this stuff?” he complains.
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Zaarah, a scrawny girl with auburn hair and amber eyes, is sitting on her chair with closed eyes. Her features seem Chelaxian but also have something else mixed in.
She is wearing light leather armor and carries a Scimitar at her hip that is attached to her wrist with a very fine chain.
Zaarah seems to be dreaming Zestel's introduction pulled her out of her state of trance. She suddenly jumps up and runs to Zestel’s side.
"Oh me second, me second please!! I do not know much about the planes ... okay a little but but I know my family better!!"
She turns towards the other Pathfinders and has a slightly absent view when she starts speaking.
"You know ... I really like you all ... and I have the feeling that I have heard of you ... but who told me about you ... everything is so fuzzy ..."
5 seconds of silence
Tears are visible in her eyes.
"... well ... sometimes what I say might sound crazy but I promise it will be logical!"
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Zestel Jumps slightly as he sees the hyperactive woman come up and start talking.
”Oh, uh, sorry to bother you. I was just trying to bone up on my planes knowledge. See on a recent mission I found some sort of inter-planar tear and I was woefully underequipped to study or deal with it so. . .” he gestures to the books. ”Though honestly, without a teacher, it’s been slow going. My name is Zestel, by the way, Zestel Cozma.”
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An effeminate elf strides through the street toward Heidmarch manor . His wooden staff, decorated with ornate elven runes and other carvings, thuds softly on the ground as he walks. He wears a flowing robe of dark purple, interwoven with a protection spell; unlikely to stop a sword outright, but every bit helps. His spellbook sits heavy on his back. "I suppose it's too much to hope that these missions play to my strengths twice..."
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*BELCH* can be heard through the rows of the library as well as a shuffle/stumble of feet.
An obviously drunken dwarf emerges, stumbling with a dented metal stein in hand. The dwarf wears what appears to once have been nice quilted cloth armor. Now, it is stained with all manner of stains and quite dirty. On his back is tied four small casks and he wears a sword sheathed at his belt.
"OI tHEre! Whizzsard!" he bellows belligerently, "I rEmmeMmemmber yu'! YuR Zef...Zersch...Zal.....It wUz uh Z sumthin'!" He sways quite heavily, seemingly about to spill his stein full of liquid everywhere.
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Somewhere in Absalom, a man of clearly Varisian origin is standing in a doorway, and is having an argument with an uniformed man.
"...I do not understand what you are talking about, Captain. I assure you my shop is a perfectly legal establishment. Nothing shady going on within."
The man sounds innocent enough, but something about his weasel-like face makes it hard to believe. The Varisian combs his greasy hair with his fingers before moving his hand to scratch the thin moustache above his lip, all the time keeping his eyes locked tightly in the captain of the guard.
"Ahha, whats this!? Just because I'm Varisian, you think I'm Szcarni, yes? And that makes you want to blame me for everything, yes? Now what would the Council think if the city's officials are harassing honest businessmen with racist motives, hmm? Now begone, little man. Come back with a search warrant or don't come back at all!"
The man, Tiberius by name, withdraws into his tattoo shop, and closes the door behind him. For a moment, he stands by the windows, and observes the frustrated captain leaving.
"You can come out from hiding, cousin. The guard will not come back today." He shouts, and knocks the door of the secret basement. He then remembers a letter on the table, which he forgot when his cousin came asking for help. Slowly, he picks it up, and starts reading.
"You'll find your way out, cousin. I have business with the Pathfinders."
"And please send my regards to uncle Guaril!"
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*BELCH* can be heard through the rows of the library as well as a shuffle/stumble of feet.
An obviously drunken dwarf emerges, stumbling with a dented metal stein in hand. The dwarf wears what appears to once have been nice quilted cloth armor. Now, it is stained with all manner of stains and quite dirty. On his back is tied four small casks and he wears a sword sheathed at his belt.
"OI tHEre! Whizzsard!" he bellows belligerently, "I rEmmeMmemmber yu'! YuR Zef...Zersch...Zal.....It wUz uh Z sumthin'!" He sways quite heavily, seemingly about to spill his stein full of liquid everywhere.
In a manner that must be most strange to others, the scholarly Wizard steps forward and greets the dwarf with a nice hug.
"Oh, Drogun, nice to see an old friend. Oh, here, you've dropped your sword again. Ah, Drogun and Zestel Cozma on another mission." He subtly drops his name for the inebriated dwarf as he picks up the dwarf's dented and battered longsword and hands it back to him.. "Haven't seen you since that tower business just outside of Absolom. Think they'll be sending us to another one? I've heard there is a red-colored redoubt that is particularly notorious . . ."
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From behind him, Evariel can now hear the screech of sharp-edged metal on the cobblestones, getting louder as it gets closer, until finally he finds his stride matched by a profoundly unsettling figure next to him. Well, 'matched' is probably not the right word, given that this...creature, whose sex is quite obscured by a beautiful, strangely-cut kimono and a a stunning full-face mask of metal and cloth, does not so much 'stride' as shuffle, lurch, and hop its way down the street, punctuated by the occasional spasm. Sinuous, abnormally-structured muscles can be seen beneath marble-colored skin where it is not covered by kimono, mask, or its long silk gloves over its spidery hands, and a shock of long hair, purest black in color save for a slight turquoise tinge, emerges from the back of its mask, which otherwise exposes only the wearer's eyes: two stark white almonds, as bright and as cold as distant stars. It smells of apricot vinegar, loam, and an array of herbs and minerals such as would be equally suitable emanating from an alchemist's laboratory as from a Tien spice cupboard. At its sides are a small hexagonal spellbook, a sheaf of assorted wands, and the source of the noise that heralded this...entity's arrival: An extraordinary black sword that looks all by itself like something out of some dark legend.
It looks over at Evariel. It says nothing, but after a moment, produces a token of the Open Road.
The Pathfinders receive a letter from Sheila Heidmarch explaining the details of their mission...
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The missive:
Greetings Friends, For some time I have been making diplomatic inroads into Kaer Maga, the so-called City of Strangers. The Society would love to gain access to the many vaults carved beneath the city long ago. However, because of the danger of the vaults, the group in charge of protecting them—the Duskwardens—rarely allows anyone to stray from their carefully patrolled paths. The Duskwardens seemed willing to consider allowing Pathfinders to venture beyond their protection, but only if we were acting on behalf of one of the city’s major factions with their endorsement. They want us to prove that we are willing to work as partners to a faction and that we will not upset the city’s existing balance of power.After receiving the Duskwarden’s reply, I reached out to the leaders of several of the city’s largest factions with evidence of our agents’ skill and goodwill. Most of the responses I received were noncommittal. However, Horus Ilaktya took a greater interest. Illyakta is the de facto leader of the Ankar-Te District. He has asked me to send a group of agents to investigate a recent event that has caused property damage in his district.
A word of caution—very few in Kaer Maga are beacons of morality. In Ankar-Te, necromancy is respected, and people openly walk the streets with their undead servants. Horus is the owner of a shop called the Last Rites, the district’s largest purveyor of mindless undead, or, as they locals euphemistically call them, Twice-Born. Horus lives by his own code, a code that should make it safe for you to interact with him as long as you don’t interfere with his merchandise. He doesn’t kill people, and he only uses corpses that he purchases from the families of the deceased. In keeping with his faith in Urgathoa, he sees these “rebirths” as a gift, and is unlikely to react well to any suggestions to the contrary. I understand some of you may find his occupation and methods distasteful, but please keep the larger mission in mind and avoid causing any diplomatic incidents.
Sincerely,
Sheila Heidmarch
There is a little bit of time for purchases and other preparations before a Seeker shall take the party to Kaer Maga. At the appointed hour the pathfinders are to meet at a jewelry shop called the Emerald Heirloom." The proprietor is a dwarf who runs his fingers through a finely braided beard, flashing the emerald and sapphire rings he wears.
"Come little soldier boy's. Gather round," he says. The rock wall behind him shifts revealing the very large arms of a very large elemental to encircle the group. The creature's head splits into flat projection much like that of a hammer-head shark. It also bears three lowing runes, crescent moons, which the Seeker also bears. "Shuler'D and I will take you as far as Kaer Maga, as soon as you are ready." he smiles.
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Zaarah is very amused after reading about their mission.
”This is really funny! Dead beings used as servants!?? This is outrageous and hilarious at the same time! I have to admit that I find this unsettling but at the end I do not care. I do not know if I told you where I grew up!? Well when I was younger I lived near Korvosa in Palin’s Cove which is really just around the corner!“ Zaarah says smiling.
The she looks at the dwarf and his jewellery.
”Can we really trust you? Well what do you dream about?!? That will reveal much!!“ Zaarah says with a sly smile.
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"Good day, Master Dwarf. What a fine, fine establishment you have here." Tiberius greets the owner as he enters the shop, unhealthy gleam in his eyes as he stares all the jewelry within.
And then he turns his attention towards the assembled team of Pathfinders. "Ah, pleasure to meet all of you. I am Tiberius, a humble horse salesman, tattooist, entrepreneur, and a dabbler in magic. From the looks of you, I believe this time Miss Heidmarch managed to assemble a more knowledgeable part of Society members."
He startles slightly when the arms reach out from the wall, and looks at the elemental with squinted eyes. "Care to tell us, Master Dwarf, how exactly are we to make the trip to Kaer Maga?"
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Earlier:
Evariel looks over his new companion. He smells like a spice cupboard. I'm guessing it's to cover up something... less pleasant. "You're a dhampir, aren't you? You should know I specialize in-- well, your kind." He decides he might as well put it out there early, given where they're heading. "I'm a necromancer. So if we're to be traveling together, well, I thought you might like to know."
To be honest, though, it was hard to concentrate on anything else as he made his way to the Emerald Heirloom to meet the others. An entire city of necromancers! Why have I never heard of this Ankar-Te district of Kaer Maga before? Even if it's a predominantly-human city, he's surprised his mentor never mentioned it during his tutelage. Seems like the kind of thing I ought to have been told about. Perhaps the only place in the world where, if I brought a companion into town, nobody would even think twice.
Now:
The elf looks the others over. "My name's Evariel. I've no doubt as to why I was asked to this mission; I specialize in necromancy."
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Sheila's letter came with a small map of Kaer Maga with the location of Horus Ilaktya’s store in Ankar-Te clearly marked.
"Well then as you are all ready," says the dwarf giving his beard one final pat (and his rings one final fourish). "I am Galdur Brassclaw the XXI, and I am to.... His eyes suddenly widen and he points to the elemental. "Shuler! Look out!"
The massive elemental reaches its arms around everyone as rocks begin falling from overhead. It leans over the party to shield them from the avalanche. The thudding of heavy boulders reverberate through the element and it tips over rolling into the stony floor and carries the party with them.
Everything is dark for a brief moment and Shuler is impossibly still the party still wrapped in his incredible arms. Then the thudding decreases and eventually stops.
"Shuler?" asks Galdur.
He is answered by a slight rumbling, like earth rolling off a plough or an ice-berg calving from a glacier. The elemental stands up and slowly spreads his arms to free the party.
The dwarf's eyes twinkle in the sunlight. Yes, sunlight for the party no longer stands in the Emerald Heirloom but a place just outside Kaer Maga’s walls, atop the plateau that allows the city to tower over the surrounding landscape.
He chuckles and flashes his masterpiece jewelry, "Such a handy thing teleport. To be honest I use it much more now then before I retired from the Pathfinders." he smiles. "As I was saying, I am Galdur XXI and I am to take you to Kaer Maga. he purses lips behind his beard. 'Which I have done." He fidgets with his braid again. "So I shall return back to work now.
He points toward an open-air meat market, "Pass through there, it is called Meatgate, where poor farmers sell their wares for affordable prices. Just past Meatgate, you'll find The Gap, a large hole in the city's walls and into the city proper."
Unless someone has questions for Galdur, he bids you good by and gestures again at his eidolon. The creature falls on top of him, pushing both into the earth and they are gone.
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Zestel sways suddenly at the unexpected Teleport, but regains his balance and looks up at the massive walled city.
"Ah, Kaer Maga. Vechiul rival . . . the Old Rival." He pauses noticing several of his colleagues giving him an odd look.
"Oh, uh, sorry. I'm from Magnamar . . . we have something of an ongoing . . . economic rivalry? Yeah, I guess you could say an economic rivalry going on with Kaer Maga. Well, shall we? Won't find this "Illyakta" out here. Probably not at least . . . Anyone good at asking random strangers for information? That was a skill I never really picked up." Zestel gestugres towards the meatgate.
As the party is about to enter the city, Tiberius recalls the first neighborhood inside the Gap is called the Warren. It is home to the poorest residents of Kaer Maga but also serves as the natural main entrance to the city for locals and visitors alike.
Zestel is able to add even more details. Kaer Maga’s government is decentralized. A collection of powerful factions controls various portions of the city. The Ardoc family of golem-crafters controls the Bis district, famed for its balconies lining the walls. The Ankar-Te district is known for its many undead servants and treats Horus Ilaktya as its de facto leader. A newer faction, the Freemen, is led by Halman Wright and operates out of the Bottoms, a stronghold of democracy. A group of peaceful trolls lives in the city, many of them skilled in augury. The Duskwardens patrol the tunnels underneath the city, where they strive to keep nosy visitors out of the vaults and creatures in the vaults from getting out.
Meanwhile the kitsune offers this tidbit which both Zestel and Tiberius confirm. The very first Runelord of Greed used Kaer Maga as a prison for his enemies.
"What do I dream about? Well. the dwarf answers Zaruh's earlier question. "Well I have always been a jeweler first, and the crown on the first Stavian was done by a previous Galdur. I guess my dream would be to make the crown for the next succession of Taldor's monarch." Under his breath he adds, "And I support Princess Europa being the one who bears that crown-beard or no beard!"
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"Not only did the very first Runelord of Greed used Kaer Maga as a prison for his enemies," Xukong says eating an enchanted apnplnen, "When he first took control of the city, the rune lord made a deal with the caulborn, a mysterious race of prophets and record-keepers residing in the city. They agreed to become wardens and historians of the city, and after millennia of service, the caulborn predicted the arrival of the Starstone and fled deep beneath the surface to escape."
As the party approaches The Gap, the whole in the wall that serves as the primary gate into the city, numerous folks approach them. They are all offering something, including a handful that offer guide services.
On the other side of the Gap, the party enters the Warren district, which is the poorest part of the city. The name comes from the maze of makeshift shanties and haphazard constructions that its residents have cobbled together with limited resources. Anyone who is willing to put the work in to help the community survive is welcome, from humans and halflings to goblins, orcs, and wererats.
The transition between the Warren and the rest of the city is stark. Everywhere else, Kaer Maga’s thick walls are in good repair. All of the city’s districts except the Warren are situated in a multilevel complex of massive, vaulted chambers, cast in perpetual twilight lit by a kaleidoscope of shimmering lamps.
Even by the standards of Kaer Maga as a whole, Ankar-Te is a district known for accepting all manner of beliefs and philosophies that rarely appear in polite society. Mindless undead servants are a common sight in its streets. A perpetual fog of incense covers any odor that may otherwise emanate from the flesh of the working zombie hordes. Once the PCs arrive in Ankar-Te, they have little trouble finding the Last Rites.
The interior of the shop named Last Rites has far from the somber appearance its name suggests. Fresh-cut flowers stand in vases throughout the room, filling the air with a pleasant fragrance. The walls are painted light green, and multiple still life paintings hang in gilded frames from the walls.
A tall, thin, middle-aged man stands near a long marble table in the center of the room. He smiles and gestures at the finely crafted mahogany chairs around the table before settling himself into the one at the end. He then picks up a tiny bell and rings it.
At the far end of the room, a door opens and a figure dressed as a servant enters, carrying a tray. The figure’s movements are stiff and its eyes stare straight ahead as it sets a tray with a decanter of deep red wine and several glasses down gently. The creature then turns and leaves the room. “Pathfinders!” says the man at the table, as he offers the wine.
“How pleasant that you could come. I am Horus Ilaktya, owner of this establishment and a leader of the Ankar-Te district. Your Venture-Captain—that is the correct term, yes?—Sheila Heidmarch promised to send some of her most capable agents. I am sure I will be pleased with what you have to offer. But on to business. I would like you to investigate a problem in my district. Just the other day I began to hear reports of property damage in the district, but I have not had time to investigate these reports myself. Since I knew I had Pathfinders on the way, I thought I’d leave it up to you to determine the cause of this damage and eliminate any threat to Ankar-Te’s wellbeing, even should it take you beneath the city and into the vaults.
“See what you can find in the streets. I’d also recommend talking to the Augurs. Their command of prophecy is quite impressive. When you have dealt with the threat, return to me and we will discuss your findings.”
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Zestel gets increasingly uncomfortable-noticeably so- around all the undead. This does not abate in the shop and he stiffens up as the Undead servant sets a glass down in front of him. It is obvious that he is using all his willpower not to shirk from the undead creature.
"Uh, yes, charmed. I'm sure. Your-or maybe your hireling's-mastery of the art is . . . impressive I guess. Never could work out Necromancy for myself. But on to the matter you brought us here for. What sort of property damage are we talking about here?"
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Zaarah is flabbergasted to see this ancient city for the first time although she lived in Varisia for so long.
"Guys, this is incredible! I am just happy that my sister Setare is not here - she would immediately have started to preach and preach and preach and then she would have taken care of the undead! But you guys are great! Totally chilled and in control - I really like your professional attitude. They are just walking corpses after all, right?" she says smiling when they walk through the city.
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In the shop Zaarah intently looks at the Zombie and starts speaking to Horus.
"Thank you so much for welcoming us here! Your task sounds super easy. We are researchers but know how to investigate and fight!" she says and points at all the weapons in the room.
"My sword even talks to me - it is an intelligent black blade after all! And I swear ... I am not crazy and do not hear voices!" she says with a stern look.
She then comes a little closer to Horus.
"But listen, how do you create these undead? Why don't they start eating people? That is what the usually do - I have lots of experience with these things! And do they dream?" she says with a sly smile.
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Tiberius holds his wine-filled glass aloft, and studies it against a source of light to make sure there are no bits of skin or fingers or anything else that could have dropped off the zombie. Finally, satisfied, he takes a small sip.
"Do you anything about the nature of this property damage? I mean, what manner of property has been damaged? "
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Fascinating! Evariel walks the street feeling completely at ease-- not despite the shambling corpses, but because of them. He inhales deeply. The faint tinge of rot in the air, cleverly masked by flowers and incense, takes him back to his years of dissections and practice with forbidden magic. It's common knowledge that those who devote themselves to the necromantic arts have a proclivity toward cruelty and evil, but Evariel well knows that isn't always true. "The undead are potent tools, nothing more. Handle with care and they can be quite useful."
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"Forgive me," the elf says to Horus when he catches himself staring at the man's servant. "I've practiced these arts for years, and have never seen them displayed so openly. I'm fascinated by your district. Is there anywhere I might purchase one of those myself? And more to the point, can you tell us where this damage seems to be?"
"Few undead eat people," Horus chuckles. "They follow commands like any other servant. Just don't command them to eat the humans." He goes into a short spiel on the expenses of obtaining such a servant, and it seems clear that even if you had the means, it would be filled with impracticalities such as the difficulty to get one back to Absalom.
Horus turns back to the task at hand. “I’ve heard multiple stories about the damage. Some of them claim entire buildings have collapsed, while others say it was only a few walls. I’m not asking you to make a full appraisal of the extent of the damage. I don’t need your expertise for that. Focus your efforts on making sure it doesn’t happen again."
"I just told you I haven't had time to investigate this yet. I would start with the people on the streets. If you run into much resistance just mention my name. That should clear up any confusion.”
:)
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Zestel moves over to the dwarf and helps him to his feet, stooping to give him a shoulder to lean on. "Uh, yes. We're going to go sample some of the street food in this wonderful city. Walk around. Probably-definitely leave this quarter . . . Say, while we're walking around, getting food, we should probably ask about all the weird structural damage, I mean, uh, damaged buildings, going on in the city. Probably caused by . . . uh, I'm going to say orcs. You hate orcs, right? They might be damaging this city, so we should go check it out."
Before you leave the Last Rites Horus asks if you have any other questions for him. His answer echoes in your head as you begin your investigations.
As the party moves through Kaer Maga and get a sense of the people, they eventually can ask some questions.
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Augurs, troll residents with a gift for prophecy, or Duskwardens-hose who patrol the tunnels under the city. (providing information above doesn't change your minds :)
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Xukong sits down, and takes a wine glass with motions stiff enough to rival the servant's own. It listens silently, sword across its lap, and motionless throughout save to take the intermittent jerky swig from its glass (its mask turns out to have a built-in hinge mechanism for this).
Finally, it asks, "Please elaborate upon this structural damage. In as much detail as you are able."
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As the group travels through the streets Kear Maga, Tiberius stops by the street vendors they come across - partly out of habit, and partly to squeeze out some information about the situation.
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"There's enough, trying to get used to the undead roaming around, so I'd rather avoid meeting any trolls right now. So I second going to the Duskwardens," Tiberius suggests, when the group ponders their next move.
Xukong sits down, and takes a wine glass with motions stiff enough to rival the servant's own. It listens silently, sword across its lap, and motionless throughout save to take the intermittent jerky swig from its glass (its mask turns out to have a built-in hinge mechanism for this).
Finally, it asks, "Please elaborate upon this structural damage. In as much detail as you are able."
Horus watches the stilted movement as a master watchmaker might a timepiece that is not quite wound tight enough. He finally answers with almost no elaboration. “I am told that a few walls have collapsed. I have also heard entire buildings have fallen. Both are from sources I trust, so I need you to verify."
The party comes across a terrified older woman. She wears a very nice, but very old shawl, which she protects with a unconscious grip. She is shaking in the corner of an alley.
"Gindalee," she answers by way of introducing herself. After she calms down, she says "I w-w-as sleeping on the f-f-floor"--her voice still shaking--"in the guest room at my cousin Gel's when I hears someone m-m-mo...,[/b] she tries to take a steadying breath. "...moving. I started to open the door and saw Gel walking away, all calm. Then. Then I saw it!" she gulps, "It was huge, like a walking octopus! I just stared at its eyes and I felt myself just drift away..." She pauses. "By the time I came to, Gel was gone and so was it. I think they were headed towards the Halflight Path."
Gindalee shivers as she answers. The tunnels that lead from K-Kaer Maga to Nidal-a city in the underdark. My cousin Gel's place is near one of its entrances. and I think that is where I saw them heading.
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Zaarah smiles and bows.
"Thank you so much Gindalee! You helped us a lot! Sorry to ask but did this occurrence have any relation to structural damage to your building or other buildings?
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Zaarah thinks about her past experience and if she has heard anything about the underdark below the city.
* * *
"Team, we should definitely check if these structural damages occur near these entrances to the underdark. Might have been a coincidence here or a pattern!" Zaarah analyses and tries to find information that could help her to validate her hypothesis.