You were summoned to Sheila Heidmarch's mansion in Magnimar, told to be ready at sunrise. Venture-Captains like her tend to demand your prompt timing. Unsurprisingly, she's late.
However her husband Venture-Captain Canayven Heidmarch is there, and a table of fruits, vegetables and breakfast meat are ready to eat. "My apologies, but Sheila is running a bit late. Please, sit down and enjoy some food. She will be down shortly."
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"I heard your wife got punched in the face by a paladin once." Agirran says starting the pleasant chit-chat while they wait.
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"Most intriguing, please, do tell of this tale." The dark dressed Sulli man says, drinking from a well-decorated goblet. He sits in noble-like robes that drape far down his body, and otherwise appears unarmored and unarmed.
Having eaten the most bloody piece of meat served, he wipes away at his lips, and toasts his goblet to everyone. "Greetings to you all. I am a friend to the society.. My name is unimportant, but you may call me Sentinel if you wish. I hail from a remote location in Taldor, where I seek to build my own residence. Benefactors from the Sovreign Court are helping me, so long as I return the favor to the Society." He says, as he takes a large gulp from the goblet. When he pulls it down, a little bit of red wine is smeared at the side of his lip.
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"I heard your wife got punched in the face by a paladin once." Agirran says starting the pleasant chit-chat while they wait.
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Agirran witnesses a rare event: Canayven's face contorting to one of anger. The moment is brief, and the Venture-Captain simply exhales. "I told her she was going too far that time. Slept on the couch for a week afterward." He sips some more wine.
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Agirran witnesses a rare event: Canayven's face contorting to one of anger. The moment is brief, and the Venture-Captain simply exhales. "I told her she was going too far that time. Slept on the couch for a week afterward." He sips some more wine.
"Cool." Agirran says nodding to himself. He sucks down his third tea. Why are the cups so damned petite? You'd think tea would come in a pint like a civilized beverage.
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A tall, thin young woman with slightly-pointed ears comes hurrying into the meeting room. She carries a yellow and white cat in her arms and sports a backpack on her shoulders, as well as a longspear and some other bits of weaponry.
"We're here! I'm so sorry we're late, I overslept and-" she exclaims but then stops as she looks around the room. "Oh, I guess the Venture-Captain is running late too? Now I don't feel so bad," she smiles as she allows the cat in her arms to hop down. "But still, we got lucky this time kitty. We'll have to do better on the next mission."
The woman smiles a bit shyly, not recognizing any faces this time. "Hello, I'm Fran and this is my kitty and best friend in all the world, Mr. Sunshine. It's nice to meet everyone."
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Now down on the floor, the yellow and white cat rubs around Fran's ankles.
"Maow!"
I'm sorry Fran, I should've tried waking you up earlier but it was so nice and warm in bed and you looked like you were sleeping really well and I know you hate it when I sit on your head while you're trying to sleep. I'll do better next time too.
Mr. Sunshine looks around the office for a moment, sniffing the air and eyeballing the people in it briefly before making a beeline for a potted plant in the corner.
"Maow!"
Oh Fran look, they've got plants in here! They're much nicer than any litterbox, you know.
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Why are the candles in the room all suddenly burning with eerie green, blue, and violet flames...?
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Fran's eyes widen as the candles suddenly change color and the fruit tray decides to take flight.
"Oh! Kitty, look! Spirits! This is just like our very first mission in Ustalav," she gasps, eyeing the fruit warily but not as fearfully as one might expect.
"Hello? Mister-or-Miss Spirit? Why are you haunting the fruit tray?"
The sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway outside of Heidmarch Manor’s cozy dining room. Venture-Captain Canayven Heidmarch sets down his fork and rises from his chair by the hearth. The stern Venture-Captain’s eyes brighten a bit as he says, “Sheila’s footsteps.” Moments later, the door to the dining room swings open, and Venture- Captain Sheila Heidmarch enters the room, taking a seat at the head of the table opposite the hearth. Canayven pours her a cup of hot tea as he addresses her, “Welcome back. The Pathfinder
agents you requested have been fed and are ready for their briefing.” She glances at Agirran and subconsciously rubs her cheeks before resuming.
“Splendid,” Sheila replies as she sets a folded piece of parchment down on the table. She smiles and gracefully takes a small sip of the steaming tea, savoring the flavor. “Thank you, Canayven. And Pathfinders, thank you all for coming to Magnimar on such short notice. I’ve specifically requested your presence here because I believe that you’re uniquely suited to helping the city of Magnimar with a problem that seems to be spreading in recent weeks.”
”As you’re likely aware, Magnimar is known across the Inner Sea region as the City of Monuments for the dozens of monuments within city itself and the surrounding region. These monuments are well known for their sacred properties—performing any number of respectful acts at their bases provides a pilgrim with a minor boon. Adventurers and mystery cultists by the droves make pilgrimages to Magnimar for a chance to experience the touch of the divine. But recently, something appears to have changed with several of these structures.”
She takes another long sip of tea. “A friend of mine in the Varisian Council, one of Magnimar’s governing bodies, has alerted me that several key monuments— namely, the Mistress of Angels in Ordellia, the Founder’s Flame in Naos, and the Cenotaph in the Capital District—have all been sites of strange supernatural occurrences ranging from eerie wailing and spectral lights to magical conflagrations. Lord-Mayor Grobaras appointed a sleuth specializing in the supernatural, a man named Theodorus Ichonvarde, to investigate. However, my contact reports that Ichonvarde’s attempts have borne little fruit thus far, and the council has accused Theodorus of badgering Varisian witnesses. Moreover, several innocents have been harmed in the occurrences at the Founder’s Flame. The implication that someone—or something—has tampered with Magnimar’s legacy leads me to believe that this is a case best suited to our interests and your abilities.”
Sheila picks up the folded piece of parchment next to her teacup, “I’ve secured an official writ from the Varisian Council to grant you legal permission to investigate. If you’re willing to help Magnimar, I can also lend you some supplies. Consider them part of your compensation, upon success.”
A DECREE BY THE VARISIAN COUNCIL AND ITS RIGHT AND HONORABLE SPEAKER, HASTOFF MARAMEZ.
To the Honorable Lady Sheila Heidmarch, Venture-Captain of the Pathfinder Society:
Whereas, by this Council’s commission, under the seal of Magnimar bearing this day’s date, the 26th of Rova in the year 4718 by Absalom Reckoning and 110th year since the Founding, do appoint and charge Lady Sheila Heidmarch as Executor of the Council’s law and do authorize her and require her to go forth, with any deputies she shall see fit to appoint, and investigate the occult happenings of Magnimar’s monuments or any structure or property deemed associated with these occurrences. Lady Heidmarch and her deputies shall possess the full force and authority to act in this manner, including and limited to the following: search any monument or public property housing a monument, to question witnesses who are amenable to serving their fair city, and to detain any persons found to be engaged in the defilement of our city’s beloved legacy.
Signed and warranted this day by Remeria Callinova, Leader of the Council
Canayven adds, “Davorge. If anyone would know what’s been going in the district of Ordellia, it’d be him. He’s a mystery cultist. He’s also an expert in supernatural matters, particularly those tied to Ordellia. Look for him in the tavern next to the Rose and Rake Theatre. He eats lunch there often. If he’s not there when you arrive, you might find someone who knows where to find him.”
Most monuments can grant a unique boon to those who pray before them.
founders. Originally designed as an empty tomb, residents of Magnimar pay significant sums of money to be entombed near or within the Cenotaph, as doing so is seen as a postmortem status symbol.
"Are there any more questions you may have about the monuments?" Canayven asks.
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The floating fruit tray makes its way to...the coat-and-broom Closet.
"Hauntings? Interestiiing," Says a voice, simultaneously silky and sandpapery, from someone Hiding Inside. "Now I better understand why I was called here," the voice chuckles.
"The Centopath I have certainly heard of: An empty tomb, of all things, built to honor one of Magnimar's founders, now *chuckle*
a place of prestige for the dead of Magnimar to be interred within, or even only nearby, and for large sums of money. It is not enough for the dead to tell tales - many must also brag!"
"The Church of Pharasma cares for the place, but it is open to the public (how else are the slothful dead to brag, after all?) - and now, thanks to none other than Captain Heidmarch herself, it has become retirement estate for many a valiant - or just stupid - Pathfinder! The local nobs don't all care for the new company, do they, Mistress Sheila? Hahahahahaaa...."
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Fran gives an uneasy glance in the direction of the broom closet. "It's very nice of Venture Captain Heidmarch to get fallen Pathfinders buried at the Cenotaph. If they've died in service to the Society and especially this city then they deserve it."
"Um...I know a little about the Founder's Flame," she continues. "And the Mistress of Angels. The Founder’s Flame is in Naos, where the rich merchants live and it was erected by Antholus Kaddren shortly after the city’s founding. It's said that it sports a constant halo of multicolored fire!"
She pauses and smiles another shy smile. "Kitty and I wanted to go see it before but we haven't had the time. I guess now we'll get our chance."
"As for the Mistress of Angels, it's in Ordellia - a district located on an island on the Yondabakari River. It was built in honor of Ordellia Whilwren, one of Magnimar’s most beloved founders, just outside of her former townhouse," Fran recites.
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Dylph just nods as Xanac and Fran tell what they know. "I can only add a ghost story I heard in a tavern here 'bout the Mistress of Angels. It was erected following Ordellia’s murder several years after Magnimar’s founding. In the years since, countless locals claim to have seen Ordellia’s ghost, who has a reputation for helping the meek and persecuted throughout the Ordellia District."
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After seeing the fruit is being levitated by an individual within the closet, Sentinel disperses his goblet blade and lowers himself to his seat. "Perhaps you should offer more warning next time." He has the crimson energy wrap around a bottle of wine and pull it towards his open hand. "You could have made me spill my drink." With that, he pours himself another glass.
"Clearly, all of you have a better understanding of Magnimar than I do. I will trust your judgement on where to move."
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As Sheila starts to speak the door of the dining room slams open. The figure of a fully armored and armed dwarf stands on the threshold, his eyes betraying something wild and somehow incongruous about his nature.
"Here at last!" he exclaims entering the room "Thror Tjarkson! Paladin in the service of the Father of Creation, I was asked to come here helping smite malefactors..." then he studies the rest of the group "...and I'm sure we'll do just that..." he finishes, sounding a mixture of perplexed and irritated.
"Hmmm... this Pathfinder Society keeps throwing me fellows of dubious character again... those two cannot possibly be undead... right?"
The dwarf scowls, stops talking and marches inside the room listening to Sheila's debriefing while stealing glances at the rest of his companions...
"Mmmmh..." - angry glare
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Having concluded his business with the potted plant, Mr. Sunshine hops out and has another look around the room. And then in typical cat fashion, he pads over to Thror and sniffs at his boots for a moment before rubbing around the dwarf's ankles.
"Maow!"
You look like you need some cheering up. Good thing I'm here to help!
Sheila smiles as the Pathfinders recall her generosity and honor at the Centopath. Also, she likes annoying the nobility.
Eventually the meat is devoured, the wine is sipped, and the bread is munched. No more food, no more meeting. Off to Ordellia.
The town of Ordellia lies on the opposite side of Magnimar, but it isn’t too hard to find the Rose and Rake Theater once you arrive. The open-air playhouse hosts town hall meetings and other large gatherings. To the side of the theater is a tavern known for its waitstaff uniforms: slick and well trimmed. Informally people call it the Rose and Rake Tavern, but the town still hasn’t approved of the name. Local politics.
You walk under the sign of the rose and a small garden rake and enter the tavern. It’s easy enough to find Davorge. The human sits in the back of the tavern, a Varisian man wearing a flowing tunic and trousers with silver embroidery. He is also waving you over, as soon as you enter the tavern.
”So… want to trade ghost stories?” He grins. ”You must have met some supernatural entities in your journeys.” He waits patiently for your response.
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Thror glares at the adorable little kitten... "Feline menace... beware! You won't find Thror to be as easy a prey as the plant you just befouled!"
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Once the pathfinders reach the Rose and Rake Tavern Thror doesn't seem to share the Varisian's enthusiasm for swapping ghost stories...
"Ghost stories? No, I don't have any. But I have plenty of demon stories. They usually end in cleansing fire... Such foul subjects should not be used as pastimes... they risk tainting the mind and souls of those who listen to them!" Thror proclaims.
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"Singing? Well, I don't know that my singing voice is all that good Mister Davorge. But I can tell a story, yes," Fran remarks amiably. "My very first assignment was out in Ustalav, helping this professor named Dr. Quolorum research strange happenings. And our first stop was this old tavern in Dunhob, where..."
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Candledark shares the frightful tale of his adventures in an Ancient Osirian crypt...
...with entirely the wrong table.
Davorge nods, and smiles when Fran gives a story. "Strange things in Ustalav? Oh, this I must hear." He calls a waiter over and requests drinks for the table. "That was a splendid story." He claps and orders another round. As the conversation continues, he finally gets to business. "What brings all of you here today?"
“You say you’re looking for strange happenings here, in Ordellia?” Davorge laughs, a merry ringing with no hint of malice. “My friend, what’s strange to you is commonplace here! After all, we happen to have our own resident ghost—the ghost of one Ordellia Whilwren, in fact, whose mortal abode happens to be ‘round the corner from where we sit. You see, I’m something of an aficionado of Ordellia. I’d love nothing more to see that poor, lost soul move peacefully from our life to the next. But lately, I’ve heard strange reports about her. She appears lost, scared, desperate even. I was going to investigate the matter myself, yet now that you’re here I wonder if our dances are, in fact, a duet. What do you say? Care to investigate the matter together?”
Davorge takes one look at Agirran and then laughs. "You're clearly the comedian of this group, I see!" He stands up immediately and drops some coins on the table. Probably compensation for the drinks he purchased, or maybe proof that he can pay for his entertainment. You're not sure.
"Splendid, miss... Fran. Do you know the life of Ordellia Whilwren? She called out to an angel who was said to watch over the local Varisians for protection from a mighty storm. The angel answered her prayer. She became a local hero, and so the City of Monuments was born to thank her and the angels above for salvation."
"Now my favorite monuments is the Glade of Silver Sparks, a humble dancing field dedicated to Ashava, empyreal lord of dancers, wayward spirits, and moonlight. It's deep within the Mushfens, so it's not exactly a tourist attraction." He laughs. "Ashava's servants travel around the city, doing what they can to help. My specialty focused on speaking to the dead and helping them find eternal rest."
”I can show you the Mistress of Angels, it's not too far from this tavern. Let go, now.” He herds you out of the tavern and waves goodbye to the staff.
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A small crowd has gathered in front of the Mistress of Angels, a marble statue of a Chelaxian woman with flowing hair and plain clothing. The statue carries a butterfly emblem in her right hand and a starknife in her left, and her eyes stare out over the sea to the north. Behind the statue is a large wooden townhouse. A brass plaque labeled “Ordellia’s Townhouse” marks the building’s southernmost entrance.
One man is interrogating five people. A Chelaxian woman and her Varisian friend, holding hands. A Chelaxian man, bored out of his mind. A young Varisian man about to cry with anxiety, and a Varisian dancer glaring at a sundial and tapping her feet.
The man pacing around them, asking questions is none other than Inspector Theodorus Ichonvarde. ”What are you doing here?” He sneers. ”This is an official investigation- I can’t have civilians interfering with my work. You may speak to your friends once I’m done with them.” He turns back to the five people.
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"Watch your tongue when you address us, Inspector. We are here on official business; you are to not impede our own investigation under order of Remeria Callinova. While you are at it, perhaps you should enlighten us as to what it is you have discovered." The Sentinel shows no sign of accepting some low-level inspector attempting to order him around, waving the order at him.
The Inspector will never admit to his fear, but his hand's shakiness is clear. He very carefully takes the writ from The Sentinel's hands. Davorge pretends to stifle a chuckle.
He looks at the writ, looks at you, looks at the writ again, looks at you, and sighs. ”Ah, so you’re here to take my case. Fine.” He looks to the five witnesses and tells them. ”I’m not done. Wait here.” He leads you about ten paces away from them.
”Do you want a general timetable? The Mistress of Angels changed about 2 weeks ago. Townsfolk say it is haunted now. The Founder’s Flame had similar issues about 1 week ago, and then the Cenotaph 4 days ago. I’m certain you know the rest.”
”Of course, you may try to interrogate the witnesses I found here.” He turns back to them. ”I know their names and their alibis for being here, although those may be fabricated lies.”
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"Now, now... let's not rush to conclusion my good inspector. What kind of haunting would this be? And who are these witenesses you mention? More importanly what can you tell me about demonic activity at the site or in its vicinity? Of course, if there was any such activity the witnesses are most probably guilty and we'll need to question them!"
"Harshly"
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The Sentinel will go up to the Chelaxian and Varisian couple first, bowing deeply and even twirling his wrist as he does so. "Greetings to you both." As he does so, he looks them over for any interesting details.
"I am... Well, my name is not of importance. Please, enlighten me. What did you see happen here?"
"Well Dwarf, I've given you the relevant details. As you can see, I've worked very diligently on this task. The Magnimar Court thinks it's easy, but it isn't."
The Sentinel decides the Inspector isn't worth more of his time and advances towards the couple.
The Chelaxian woman with dark hair and eyes and pale skin squeezes the other woman’s hand. ”Here they come, Vonysa. Theo brought his goon squad with him this time.” You notice the silver and pearl wedding rings around their clasped hands for a only a moment. Eylvian’s free hand soon distracts you as she points and waves and snaps her hands. ”This is the worst honeymoon ever. Vonysa and I came from Kaer Maga to enjoy the month here and this rude man detains us. Well, he’s going to hear from my lawyer soon. I’ll sue every single person here if they don’t leave me alone. My cousin is a barrister back in Cheliax, and I’ll write to him.”
Vonysa, the Varisian with curly raven hair, brown skin and dichromatic eyes simply sighs. She hasn’t said a word or moved since you’ve seen her.
A middle-aged Varisian woman dressed in dancer’s garb glares at the sundial. Her silver-trimmed butterfly wing cloak flaps in the wind. ”More questions about my upbringing, Theodore?” She mutters. ”I am a classically trained dancer of Ashavic and Desnan religious dances. I teach Varisian folk dances and Chelaxian waltzes. I’m late for my next class, and all you can do is talk about my heritage.” She sighs. ”Fine, let’s get this next round of questions over with.”
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”I can show you the Mistress of Angels, it's not too far from this tavern. Let go, now.” He herds you out of the tavern and waves goodbye to the staff.
Agirran does a double-take, and then makes a face that says Really? You're gonna wave 'bye bye'? Oookay then.
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”Can I go home now?” The Chelaxian man sits on the ground. His hands are gray with clay and he seems more tired than anything. ”I told you already. I work at Magnimar’s Golemworks but I live in this town. I worked hard, my hands are killing me, and I’d like to get some rest at home. So if we’re done here?” He grunts.
"QUIT YER BELLY-ACHING!"
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Fran seems a little taken aback by both Agirran and The Sentinel's manner of interrogation...but she can't deny that it seems effective. Still, being harsh and commanding has never been something that she's particularly good at so she tries a softer approach with Inspector Ichonvarde.
"Um, excuse me, Inspector? Have you learned anything else about the other monuments?" Fran asks politely. "Or maybe found other witness that we could talk to?"
Havaroc Tharvius reels back as Agirran towers over him. "Y-yes! Okay, okay. Fine. Here's what I know. No need to yell."
"I work overnight at the Golemworks twice a week. It's good pay. One night I was walking near the Mistress of Angels when I saw strange people wearing heavy cloaks and some sort of glowing necklaces making a mess near it."
"I asked them what they were doing near Ordellia's Townhouse. I guess their leader got mad and yelled at me. It was in common but the accent was so weird."
He hesitates. "Is that enough?"
Fran tries to appeal to Theodorus. "Are you implying I have not found the best witnesses for the job? Hmpf." He seems insulted.
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"Oh no, not at all, I...I just...um, never mind..." Fran stammers before sighing and walking away from the Inspector. "Sorry to bother you..."
Hoping that maybe she can help Agirran out, Fran makes her way over to where he towers threateningly over Havaroc Tharvius.
"Um, excuse me? You said these cloaked people were making a mess and that one of them yelled at you? Did you get a chance to see what sort of mess they were making? Or can you remember what the leader yelled at you? Even a guess might be helpful," Fran asks, smiling encouragingly.