You find yourselves in the office of Ambrus Valsin,the venture-captain in charge of daily operations in and around the Grand Lodge. As of yet the venture-captain has failed to make an appearance and you are alone with your fellow pathfinders. While you wait for the arrival of the venture-captain brief introductions are initiated.
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A glistening toadlike creature awkwardly enters the office, his clunky hide armor forcing his stiffness. He wears a large symbol of Gozreh around his mottled, green-and-blue neck. He croaks out a greeting, "Well met, Pathfinders! Are you all on your first assignment as well? I have come a far distance to work with you all. May the Wet One bless our venture."
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The woman smiled at the others. She had dark hair and skin and had a well worn suit of leather armor donned. "I'm no veteran, but I've had one prior assignment under my belt now. I think my higher ups were impressed, as they said I did well enough that I deserve this," she grinned, showing off a brand new healing wand.
"Im Richelle. Pleasure to meet the lot of you."
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A red haired, grey eyed dwarf clad in chainmail calls out from a side table "Thorur Grundur here. This is my second mission for the society, but this" he raises his dwarven waraxe "is already well broken in." He grins and absentmindedly rubs the silver holy symbol of Torag that hangs around his neck.
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A weary looking man stumbles in using his spear as a walking stick "Sorry I'm late, I ran into another practitioner of the noble art of summoning and lost track of time while trading tips. The name's Joe, and this is my first mission for the society." He quickly scans the room to find the most comfortable chair left and pulls out his spell book as he slumps into it.
Ambrus Valsin storms into the meeting room and sits down.
"All right, Pathfinders! Listen up. I know you are eager to make names for yourselves in the organization, but first we need to make sure you are up to snuff and won’t get yourself killed out there. I have a number of small assignments for you and your team before your first real mission, and it would be best if you could finish them before the day’s end."
He slides a envelope over to the party, looks at the group and shakes his head. "Every day we get some doe-eyed hopeful or some sniveling bootlicker willing to do anything to join up with the Pathfinders. Most of them are good kids, but not all of them have the salt to make it in a world like this. It’s rough out there and I’m not just talking about the ruins, tombs, and wilderness Pathfinders find themselves in on missions."
He takes a deep breath as he continues, "We’ve got people who look down their noses at us, folks who think we squander our resources, and agents who want to take everything we have collected. For every friend of the Society, there are two enemies. So we got to make sure we treat our friend with respect and help them out from time to time."
He looks at each of the assembled Pathfinders in turn. "Your first mission, is to test your mettle and loyalties. It sends you to meet a few people very important to the Society, living here in Absalom. These are other venture-captains or close allies of our organization, so follow their orders as you would mine."
He stops and eyes the party to make sure everyone was listening. "That list of tasks are not arranged in any particular order of importance, but I want them all completed as quickly as possible."
He gathers the rest of his paperwork and stands ready to leave, "Only report to me once you complete everything. Included in the envelope is the list, complete with the name of your contact, and directions to the meeting location." With a nod he heads for the door. You only have a moment to ask any questions you might have before he is off to attend other business.
Thorur calls out to ambrus valsin before he leaves Would you happen to know if the Paracountess is a member of House Thrune or not? I had some dealings with them on my last mission.
Ambrus Valsin seems slightly annoyed that he had to slow his exit but nether of less responds curtly while exiting the door"Who can ever guess where the Paracountess's loyalties lie at a given moment."
You make your way to the seedy harborside of the Docks district and easily find Guaril Karela at his curio shop, The Pickled Imp.
This creepy shop contains myriad odds and ends, most bereft of any discernible use. A number of malformed creatures and creature parts bob in jars on a long, prominent shelf, a tiny fetal devil centered in this macabre lineup. The shopkeeper, a greasy-haired Varisian with a thin mustache, shouts from behind the cluttered counter:
“Ah yes, I see the Pathfinders have arrived. I’m glad Ambrus was able to lend a few of his new recruits to help me. Please come in and let me tell you what I need.”
Looking around as if to be absolutely certain no customers are browsing the aisles of knock-off Thuvian burial urns or supposed Azlanti porcelain, he begins again.
“Well met. I am Guaril Karela. A friend of mine has a warehouse near here and he received a parcel on behalf of me and some of my associates, but there’s a problem. See, Master Gelbane had to eave town in a hurry and our shipment is still waiting at his warehouse. Rumor is he ended up in trouble with the law and the place was seized. I heard tell from someone down at the docks that some creep was snooping around his warehouse just the other night, so I want to make sure nothing of mine was taken. He keeps all kinds of things, from beer to nails, in that old pelican, but every now and then he stores something really special. This is one of those cases.
“There’s a big crate marked with three crows arranged in a triangle. Inside that crate is a smaller container with a few books and papers in it. That’s the only parcel I’m interested in, and as far as I’m concerned, you can help yourself to the rest of the crate. Honestly, anything else you want in the place too. I’m sure the once things get sorted out, the city will seize most everything else anyway.
“My associates and I often work with the Pathfinders when it comes to special relics and documents, getting them in and out of ports and across borders where the authorities ask too many questions. Most people don’t realize what they have and frankly many don’t deserve to have it, so sometimes we help take the goods off their hands. If things work out well and you get this done, I’d be glad to talk with you more and help you out with any future endeavors, as long as you help me out too. I’m good at returning favors, trust me.”
"That sounds like a nice easy request, do you mind if I take a peak at your book too? If not I understand completely"
"It would be best if prying eyes kept to themselves." Guaril quickly responds, before encouraging the pathfinders to leave. "If you know same Ambrus that I do, you know he is not a very patient man. Best if you be on your way. If Ambrus respects one thing it is people who don't waste his time."
"Sounds like it's off to the warehouse then. Is there any significance to the symbol of the three crows? Is there any chance of danger?" Gili inquires.
"No danger, no danger. The warehouse is empty should be a walk in the park for such capable pathfinders, if you ever make it warehouse instead of milling about my shop."
Called Pelican Warehouses, these buildings perch at the end of piers, allowing a ship to load and unload farther out from the busier docks.
Many of them either accommodate smaller vessels that are in a hurry or larger ships unable to find an open dock. Rare these days the Pelican docks lie in disrepair, withered by storms and salt, and every year it seems another one falls into the harbor. An increased tax on this type of property keeps many owners from rebuilding and some have even relinquished the titles allowing them to fall into the hands of squatters and smugglers or even the bay itself.
Smugglers have been known to use small boats to slip underneath the warehouses, sawing holes in the floor and prying boards off at night to sneak in to loot the place or just drop a crate into their boat and row away in the darkness.
The pier that you are directed to sits on a stretch 100 feet from the boardwalk and the docks proper, standing 15 feet above the water. The planks on the pier are sturdy but weathered. A few local fisherman and some kids sit along the pier casting nets and bobbing lines into the murky waters below.
The building looks abandoned and in disrepair. The windows are dark and dirty. A small boat bobs in the waters below, tethered to the pier by a stout, salt crusted rope. Perched on the end of a long pier fifteen feet
above the water, the warehouse appears to struggle against its own roof, threatening to sag into the bay below. No light shines from the building’s windows and only the movement of gulls and pelicans stirs the scene.
Alani discovers the warehouse’s heavy wooden front door is locked.
Throrus axe falls upon the lock with a resounding whack, destroying the lock, and swing the door upon. The resulting shock wave shakes lose a hidden key that was sandwiched between two rickety slats near the doorframe.
Darkness fills the warehouse, the ambient light from outside blocked by a filthy, oily film on the structure’s few windows. Darting illumination comes from light reflecting off the water through a splintered hole in the floor. Throughout the warehouse, crates, boxes, and barrels lean against each other in vaguely sorted stacks. A lingering smell indicates some of the contents are certainly spoiled.
Perched in the middle of the hole, teetering on split planks, sits a large crate stamped with three crows arranged in a triangle—the very crate the Pathfinders have come to find.
Handholds cut into the stout wooden crate ring the rim. Other barrels, boxes, and crates sit stacked along the walls of the warehouse. Just inside the door sits a handful of crates and kegs of beer. Most of these smaller crates and barrels contain foodstuffs in various states of freshness. Some crates reek of rot. Stacks of simple coffins sit against the east wall. The rest of the crates stacked along the north and south walls contain simple sundries including, but not limited to beer, blocks of clay, coffee, coils of rope, dried fish, lead ingots, nails, nets, raw cotton, rough wool, spare sails, timber planks, various pulleys and tools, and cheap weapons.
A crane, used for loading and unloading boats, clings to a rail running the length of the warehouse, hanging 5 feet below the high ceiling, and can slide out to extend past the loading doors along the west wall.
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"Okay, we have to be really careful with this. If we knock the crate into the water, we'll make it useless. How best to secure the crate? Anyone feel like trying to use the crane to snag the crate? Or, is anyone cmfident enough on their feet that they can balance to secure a rope around it, so that the rest can pull it to safety?"
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Thorur moves into the warehouse, (took the liberty of moving myself my 20 movement), and sees the crate in question.
"Considering where it is currently balanced, I don't think I should risk going near it, let alone trying to open it by force. If someone smaller and lighter would be willing to try, I will secure a rope between the two of us in case they were to fall. Or perhaps the chest itself if someone could secure the rope to that"
Thorur takes off his backpack and begins to uncoil the spider-silk rope from his backpack.
"I would hammer in a piton to secure the rope too, but I'm not sure the floor would take it"
"Good plan, Mr. Drifter. And yes I am best suited to reach the crate in safety." He shows off his sticky, webbed hands. "I shall cross to the crate and secure it to the crane so we can lift it back."
The low light of the room obscure the fact that the edges of the hole are quite dangerous and not easily navigated, a fact Gili is now realizing as he gingerly makes his way towards the crate.
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As he approaches the edge, the grippli is suddenly unsure of himself. He removes his bulky armor, setting it on the solid floor, and replies, "Yes please. I don't want to see what's at the bottom of that hole." When he has been secured to Thorur and the dwarf nods his readiness, Gili creeps forward cautiously.
Gili's light frame and sticky webbed hands allows him to navigate around the hole, onto the beam, than to the crate itself with ease.
While the rest of the pathfinders move the crane into position, the grippli than quickly secures the crate to the crane.
The group easily manages to move the crate to more secure flooring, however in the process of lowering the crate a rope slips and crate hits the floor with a resounding whack.
Though the crate and its contents are undamaged, the commotion stirs awake three large rats.
Round 1 Initiative (bold may act)
Richelle
Joe
Gili
Baddies
Alani
Thorur
Richelle sends the lid of the crate flying across the room into the rat. The force of which lifts the rat from his feet and carries it straight into a large crate and ending its existence.
Joe, on the other hand, quickly summons an eagle to aid the pathfinders with these rodents of unusual size. The eagle waste no time sinking its claws into the nearest rat, tearing large chunks from its flesh.
Gili conjures forth a storm to batter the rat into submission, however the rat manages lunge forward and escape the effects of the storm.
The red rat fleeing the effects of Gili's storms makes it way straight to Alani and attempts to bite her ankle, though she is having nothing of it and easily doges the rats clumsy attack
The yellow rat fighting for its life against Joe's eagle lashes out in a desperate attack and catches the eagles wing in its mouth ripping a large chunk from it.
Round 1 Initiative (bold may act)
Richelle
Joe
Eagle -3
Gili
red rat
yellow rat -4
Alani
Thorur
Once again Richelle focus her mind to fling a crate lid across the room with similar effect, the poor rat did not know what hit it.
While Alani manages to cook lunch for the pathfinders while dispatching the rat that had the audacity to attack her.
COMBAT OVER
After that, the crate is easily secured. The rescued crate holds a smaller mahogany box inside, which contains five books and a few loose sheets of paper in a leather folder. The titles and subjects seem completely unrelated to each other: Practical Thaumaturgy In Accordance with Creation, Geographic Anomalies of the Inner Sea, Under Kaer Maga: A Trial and Travel, Physiology of Dragons: An Illustrated Reference, Lost Sarusan. The leather folder contains cargo manifestos, warehouse inventories, and other nancial logs from a dozen di erent merchant houses and trade guilds.
The crate also contains 10 sets of masterwork thieves’ tools, three asks of alchemist’s re, a ask of acid, a dozen jars of various inks, a footprint book, adamantine weapon blanch, three bags of powder, a deck of marked cards, and two sets of average loaded dice. The trip back is quite uneventful, and Guaril accepts the crate with a wave of his hand and bids you be on your way.
You look to your list too decide which errand to accomplish next.