Eliza Petulengro welcomes you to Woodsedge Lodge’s meeting room, still undergoing repairs after the Red Raven’s assault. She motions for you to have a seat. The red-haired woman mutters an arcane incantation under her breath and gestures deliberately at the doors and windows, then sighs heavily, nods to herself, and looks up at you.
”Arnaut Daniél. Jordan Fenrir Wolfe. Zhu Li Tullian. Sahess. Thank you very much for your assistance in recent events. While Osprey was skeptical of your loyalty to the Society, he is no longer here, and my trust is in your hands.
“As you know, the very fabric of the Pathfinder Society is under attack. Though your efforts were instrumental in protecting this lodge, our task is far from done. You are already intimately involved in this affair, so it falls to you to see it through. Secrecy is of the upmost importance in this regard, so rather than involve more people in this embarrassing debacle, we trust you to take care of everything. These are among the most momentous events in our organization’s long history, and our very survival depends on your success.
“What I ask of you now is even more dangerous than your previous involvement, but I trust that you will not let the Society down. I need you to return to the Maze of the Open Road and discover what you can about Adril’s use of the portals within to further his devious plans. Find Condria, the Maze’s medusa guardian, and gather from her any information you can on Hestram’s recent comings and goings in the Maze. While we have a general idea of who his targets are, we don’t yet know how or when he plans to assassinate them.
“Should you discover any hints as to the identity or location of his next target, do not delay in travelling there and ensuring his or her safety. May the gods be with you; if they don’t favor your efforts, the Pathfinder Society is doomed. I would suggest making any purchases that you need now. I will try to answer any questions you may have, but my knowledge is admittedly limited.”
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"Does this Maze have a second medusa?" Arnaut asks, head tilted slightly to the side. "Because Sahess chopped the head off the one we encountered on our last romp through the Lodge's backyard attraction and she might not be able to answer many questions in such a state. And can't we just send word to the named folks telling them to 'disappear' for a while while we track down this illusive man? And have the Society's scrying efforts of Adril revealed anything?" He pauses and looks over his imaginary glasses at Eliza. "They are scrying for him, right? Goodness knows folks in the Society would know a Venture Captain well enough by this point, and if memory serves there was quite a bit of his blood decorating the halls here not too long ago."
Eliza shakes her head. ”I believe that is a question best left for her.
“I have personally attempted to scry upon Adril Hestram, but to no avail. And even then, it’s likely Hestram isn’t alone—knowing his location does not necessarily protect his targets. As for informing his targets: we have sent them messages, but no responses have returned. This worries me.”
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"If we are all going to be introduced as formally as all that, my name is Sahessrala Lyruhe, Lady and Senator of Taldor, Ambassador of Nagajor," Sahess mentions, because as the noblest of the bunch it would not do to have a familiar tone taken when others were called by full names. "And I do recall having taken that creature's head... did someone restore it? My, that would cost a tidy sum."
As Sahess checks her bag, she finds that the medusa's head isn't there anymore.
"We're talking about a dead man, Arnaut! Although he was a wanted criminal, so I'll forgive the comment this time. And I had one of my staff put the pieces in a sack so that the armory could be cleaned of blood, otherwise the elf is still there."
You have little trouble traversing the Maze of the Open Road; the high hedge’s twists and turns are familiar to you after your previous foray into its passages. As you enter the ruins from before—the corpses of the Mwangi tribalists and the ape Da’Tunga and the guardian naga still strewn about—you find in front of you a very surreal sight: a familiar medusa polishing the various statues of the presumed victims of her gaze. As you all approach her serpentine locks all turn to look at you and the medusa turns her head slightly before placing her left hand over her eyes and several snakes drape over the approximate location of her eyes like long bangs over the hand concealing her sight. She turns to you all—or your approximate location—and nods slightly.
”We meet once more, Pathfindersss. Allow me to properly introduce mysself: I am Condria, keeper of the Maze. How may I be of ssservice to you all?”
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"Condria! Wonderful to see you again!" Aranut says jauntily. "You're looking so much better than the last time we saw you - how've you been? I see you've kept your head on your shoulders even after our... vigorous discussion the last time we spoke."
"We're looking for... an acquaintance of ours. Another Pathfinder, by the name of Adril Hestram. Has he passed through here recently, or been a frequent visitor in the past?"
"Condria! Wonderful to see you again!" Aranut says jauntily. "You're looking so much better than the last time we saw you - how've you been? I see you've kept your head on your shoulders even after our—"
“Yesss,” Condria interrupts. ”And it wassn’t the firssst time I’ve met my demisse in this blassssted Maze—and it alwaysssss ssssseemssssss to be beheadingsssss, doesssssn’t it?!” she shouts to some unseen entity. ”But like every other time, I reappeared here in full health sshortly thereafter. I am bound, body and sssoul, to thissss place, to guard it until the powerful druidic magic binding me iss broken, or sssome unknown conditionss are met.”
Once Arnaut finishes his diplomancy he finds Condria to be acting no different than immediately beforehand.
"We're looking for...an acquaintance of ours. Another Pathfinder, by the name of Adril Hestram. Has he passed through here recently, or been a frequent visitor in the past?"
Condria and her hairs hiss angrily! “That bear of a man issssn’t easssssily forgotten! He’ssss been quite active in the Maze sssince you and I lasst met. In each cassse, when I confronted him, it alwayssss ended badly for me. In fact, I can’t recall more agonizing deathssss than thossssse he granted me in all my centuriesssss in the Maze! While he travelsss often through the Abssalom, Galt, and Mwangi Expanssse gatess, hisss mosst recent movementssss centered around the Chelissh portal, taking place under the cover of night.”
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"Joy. Cheliax. This portal system seems rather, well, convenient. Wonder why we don't use it more often. That damn tapestry gives me a headache to use So, super sneaky secrets in the dead of night revolving around the homeland of Zarta. Great. Absolutely wonderful. This is exactly what I wanted instead of retiring in my cushy little apartment in Absalom."
Jordan sulks for a bit.
"Which way to the Chelish portal?", he sighs.
Condria points down a nearby corridor, not even uncovering her eyes.
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Arnaut cross-references his notes. "Right, Cheliax, that would be... one Eddington Keel. Shall we see if we can pay them a visit?" He turns back to Condria with a bow. "Thank you for the information, and our apologies for the mess we left after our last visit. Can we perhaps bring something back for you as a token of our gratitude, or maybe you've been looking for a way to leave the Maze?"
”You have proven yoursselvesss my bettersss, and I would rather not ssuffer another pointlesssssss death.”
Stepping through the portal in the Maze of the Open Road, you feel a light tugging on your entire body, as if you are being pulled in every direction at once. Whether in limbo for only moments or an eternity you cannot tell, but you step unscathed from the portal’s mate, finding yourself in the shadow of a red and black marble gazebo before the ominous shape of the portal behind you. A traditional Chelish garden surrounds the structure, and the form of a sizable manor house rises from behind a row of topiary bushes. The grounds appear to be completely enclosed by a high, granite wall.
A group of people—four halflings, a human, and a tiefling—look at the Pathfinders in shock as they notice you materialize from the gazebo, but after a moment they all return to rigorously tending the garden.
You all notice on the left side of the ebony archway of the gazebo—amid intricate vine relief—half of the Glyph of the Open Road has been carved into the stone. The other half of the symbol has likewise been carved into the opposite end of the archway.
The halfling does not look up from weeding the garden as he motions toward the nearby manor.
"The master is inside."
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Zhu Li fumes as she realizes the caliber of man they're likely to be dealing with. Surely the bard has realized now, too, what a halfling in Chileax who is reluctant to meet the eyes of a human is. "Thank you," she answers politely, her illusory outfit flaring behind her with the force she puts into her stride.
"Slaves," she mouths silently out of the corner of her mouth, turned just so that Arnaut can catch it, managing to imbue that one unspoken word with an impressive amount of vitriol directed at their owner.
With all the world of magic at their disposal, Zhu Li could never justify the Chelish fascination with enslaving halflings.
She walks up to the back door of the manor, forcing her breathing to be regular. She'd need to control herself here, despite the fact that this looked to be a trying day of dealing with entitled nobility yet again.
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"The flowers certainly are beautiful, like the sound of a clear bell," Arnaut says to the gardener as he stands. "Thank you for your help - perhaps we will be able to return the favor someday."
"Oh?" Arnaut replies with an arched eyebrow to Zhu.
Through the unlocked double-doors is a marble-tiled entryway under an elaborate, flameless chandelier. A massive painting on the north wall depicts a host of devils bowing before a towering aspect of the Prince of Darkness—Asmodeus—while on the southern wall is a portrait of the famed Pathfinder Durvin Gest aboard The Silken Purse. Two sets of wooden double doors flank a wide stairway leading up to a second floor. At the foot of the stairs is a halfling in red livery kneeling on the marble, polishing it with a toothbrush .
Don’t forget to move your token to match any movements your character would take.
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Arnaut kneels, wiping his hand over a section of marble next to where the servant is cleaning. "Need a hand?" he asks softly with a grin as the stone beneath his hand sheds grime like a horse in springtime.
"We're here to visit Eddington Keel, but perhaps we'll see each other again when our work is done." Arnaut continues, voice low. "Could you point the way to his study?"
The halfling flinches slightly as Arnaut kneels down next to him, but rises to his feet.
”I was not aware Master Keel had visitors.” Despite the formality in his words he can hardly hide the weariness of his voice. He bows to the Pathfinders. ”Master Keel is currently in the library. I can spare the time to show you there, but I must be quick to return here lest I…”
The halfling’s voice trails off. He turns around and moves toward the southern door, revealing several long marks on his bare back.
Ceiling-high bookshelves line the walls of this library, and several rows of lower shelves take up half of the center of the room. Lush couches provide a comfortable place to lounge, while several reading tables stand empty but inviting for eager researchers. Lamps employ flameless torches, illuminating the room in bright, even light. A stylized portrait hangs over an unlit fireplace—the gaze of a tall, dark-haired Chelaxian man with thick, slanted eyebrows and a slightly crooked nose seeming to follow you throughout the room. Seated on the couch is the subject of the portrait—wearing fine silks on his body, a thin circlet on his head, and a small ring in the shape of a simple Möbius strip on his left hand.
When the group enters the man nearly jumps ten feet in surprise! He slams closed the book he was reading and stuffs it in the gap between the cushion and armrest of the couch as he stands up.
”Good lord! Do not take me by surprise like that! What do you think you’re doing?!”
“My apologies, Master. You have guests and I was showing them to you—”
“Yes, and now you’ve shown them to me. I take that as meaning the foyer has been polished?”
A drop of sweat forms on the halfling’s brow as he swiftly leaves the library.
The master of the house—Eddington Keel —reclines back onto the seat of the couch.
”My apologies about that. How may I help you, gentlemen and ladies?”
”’Houseserv—‘? Oh yes. Quite. How foolish of me to not reward the help for their clever, out-of-the-box thinking.”
”Now, I must say that this is quite an odd sight—not every day you see a multicultural group of armed folks—by the way, my good man, that is an exquisite zweihänder you have there—walk into a Chelish manor.” He slowly moves his cloak to reveal a sheathed dagger at his hip as he arches his eyebrow. ”I hope I won’t need to defend myself against an attack from such visitors.”
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"From us, former Venture Captain? No. As distasteful as I find the way you keep your house, loyalty is rewarded with loyalty," Zhu Li says, producing her Wayfinder before pocketing it yet again. "We have reason to believe you imperiled from an external threat, or possibly an internal one." She looks around. "As a matter of security, how is the old lodge in Westcrown? A second Haven to fall back to couldn't go amiss."
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"Indeed - that would be quite unfortunate." Arnaut's gaze wanders over the extensive book collection and lavish displays of wealth. He whistles appreciatively as he studies the portrait, the note rising higher and higher until it leaves the atmosphere audible range for most creatures. "Thankfully, we are not here to cross blades with you, but with those who might seek your demise. Captain Montrose is dead, and his killer named as Adril Hestram. We have strong reason to believe you could be next." He glances around conspiratorially. "Have you noticed any strange happenings recently, especially around that lovely gazebo in the garden?"
Keel’s eye twitches as he stares at Jordan.
”And what, pray tell, are you insinuating, madam? That I require outside assistance? That I am unable to protect myself?! That I take no precautions in attempting to prevent my own death?! I’ll have you know that I do not need your assistance, nor do I want it!
“And I’ll have you know, yes, I have seen Adril recently; he is a close friend of mine and has visited me in recent weeks and has spent many a night in this very manor. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I am still alive, so if Adril wished me dead then, pray tell, why am I not?!”
Keel is not being completely forthright with his answers.
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"We're just following orders, sir. We were attacked because of him, the decemvirate themselves think he's a bad guy, and we have accounts of him using his connections to kill people he shouldn't. I do not doubt your ability to defend yourself against one man, but I fear this ISN'T just one man. There's an entire SHADOW LODGE out to get you. But, no, please, demean me some more."
Jordan really, really hates actually dealing with Cheliaxians. He prefers the quiet, imminent danger of the archives, but not the history of them.
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”You were rather surprised when we walked through the door,” Arnaut points out. ”And while I am certainly not casting any doubt on your preparations, Lord Montrose also counted Adril as a friend before pointing an accusative finger at the man from beyond the grave. But perhaps there is more to this story than you are telling, hmm? Someone with absolute trust in their preparations surely would not feel the need to sweat so much, nor hold such tension in their hands.” He winks charmingly at the man, any disgust with his lifestyle effortlessly hidden behind his performer’s face.
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"Listen, Mr. Keel. I don't doubt your ability to quell a slave uprising or keep out an angry mob or maybe even fend off one or two Red Mantises, if you're actually good with your knife and could maintain your senses through their prayer strikes. But just the other day my friends and I had to fight off two young purple worms, two iron golems, around a dozen archers, a sorcerer with more magic than sense, and the bloody Red Raven of Galt, and that was for Adril, who may I add used to be a friendly acquaintance of mine before this mess, feigning his own demise." She spins the chair around and sits down, maintaining eye contact with the Chelish man. "Were I you, I would be grateful for four decorated Pathfinders freely offering their assistance in saving your hide. Especially when I and Jordan work for Zarta Dralneen."
"But please, by all means, hold on to whatever secrets you think are more important than that. Cayden spare me from Chelish pride."
Keel’s face turns a shade of crimson.
”You ‘fear’?! So you come here, invade my home, wave around your little doohickeys, and expect me—your superior—to kowtow to your nonsensical whims based on a ‘fear’?! You can’t even be certain that something is going to happen to me before you take away my agency to protect myself?! I don’t know how you all do things where you’re from, but in Cheliax subordinates respect their superiors and do not question their orders! Just wait until Zarta hears about this!”
Keel’s face turned red not from anger, but from embarrassment.
As Keel screams you notice him subtly take the book he crammed in between the cushions of the sofa and sneak it into his cloak, putting another book in its place in the couch.
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"I'm sorry, superior? There is no Westcrown Lodge, which means there is no Westcrown Venture Captain. We are peers at best, for you anyway, seeing as I have a noble title and you do not. Did you defend Absalom from Invaders? Did you retrieve a piece of the Sky Key? Did you save the Jeweled Sages from certain doom? Yes, we only have a lead, and the last time I had a lead, Mr. Keel, I managed to pull us out of the frying pan in that little mess in Osirian. Now, Mr. Keel, swallow your wounded pride and tell us what the Devil you're hiding. Or did you think you could slip something past Zhu Li Tullian's eyes with those amateur moves?"
Keel flinches at the woman’s words before he looks down in shame.
”Fine. You got me.”
Keel pulls out a thin codex—like a magazine—from his cloak and hands it to Zhu Li. In it is lascivious lithographs of various women, fey, and extraplanar creatures in ever-increasing states of undress.
While the Seekers look agape at what Keel was trying to hide, the man’s hands move swiftly to the dagger at his hip!
Round 1 Surprise Round
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Zhu Li
Sahess
Jordan
Eddington Keel
Arnaut
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Keel dodges away from Zhu Li’s hands as he instinctively pulls out his dagger and realizes that Zhu Li’s reflexes were faster than his.
”Damn it! You’re a fast one, I’ll give you that, my dear.”
Keel frantically traces his finger along the one side of his Möbius strip ring and the man vanishes.
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"by the way, my good man, that is an exquisite zweihänder you have there"
"I am not your good man, nor anyone's man, I am the lady Sahess, Senator of Taldor, Ambassador of Nagajor, and were we in public I would demand satisfaction for the insult. It is indeed a marvelous weapon," she says. Then a lot of things happen in rapid succession and Sahess is left somewhat flabbergasted.
The only thing of note in the library is a copy of Pathfinder Chronicles #48 stuffed in between the cushions of the couch.
The kitchen has three halflings peeling potatoes and scrubbing pots in scalding water, and one stands on her toes, stirring a pot on a stove clearly not designed for cooks of her height. If questioned, she answers nervously to the best of her ability. She says that her master has been acting strangely since his dinner guests came three nights ago, and she believes he’s made a pact with a powerful devil. She also describes the strange cold that has been emanating from the second floor and notes that both Keel’s strange behavior and the cold began around the same time.
The upstairs guest chambers contain nothing of value and have appeared to not be used in some time.
As you try to open the door to the master bedroom, you find the doorknob cold to the touch and slightly frozen. You also hear muffled voices on the other side of the door. Zhu Li takes time to open the locked and frozen door.
A sheet of ice covers the floor of the opulent bedchamber, and the walls drip with layers of glittering rime. Soft, faint light through the frost-covered windows accentuates icicles dripping from a canopy bed. Your breath condenses before your eyes and hangs in the air momentarily before dissipating. An ornate fireplace occupies the east wall, and burns with cold, blue fire. On the opposite wall, you can barely discern the shape of floor–to-ceiling bookshelves under the thick frost that has transformed the room into an ice cave. A desk and several salon couches lay overturned in the middle of the floor.
Kneeling on the floor of the 15-ish-square-foot area of non-frost is a shifty-looking Varisian man.
”Xerazrix, please! I have upheld my end of our bargain! I beg of you, release me from your servitude!”
Seated on the bed is a familiar-looking insectoid giant. Flanking the insect are two hounds whose bodies burn with an icy blue flame, sitting as still as statues.
Xerazrix looks up towards the PCs and stands up on the bed , but the bipedal insect doesn’t seem to make any further movements.
Round 1
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Xerazrix (Readied Action)
Sahess
Hounds
Zhu Li
Arnaut
Jordan
Rysus Soth
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Round 1
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Xerazrix (Readied Action)
Sahess
Hounds
Zhu Li
Arnaut
Jordan
Rysus Soth
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