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It's hard to not to notice a beautiful bronze-skinned woman with a raven hair and small brown horns on her head, dressed in red silks, with a glass of red wine in her hand, fire in her red eyes (not literally flame, but it feels like they are full of volcanic energy and passion) and a bat on her shoulder (which she periodically feed with grapes).
She impatiently twitches her leg, waiting for the captain and her future comrades. In tact of every move silver jewelry in which she richly decorated softly jingles. Motifs of forms and patterns on bracelets, earrings, pendants and other things repeat and repeat two themes - succubi and daggers.
She doesn't seem armed, but only a madman would say she's not dangerous.
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- It's rather a craving for art. I find it beautiful and dangerous. Like a good dagger - you can be enchanted with its beauty, when it was made by talented master... and instantly be killed while looking at the patterns on the handle and the glare on the blade. It's... mmm... intriguing. A work of art can be different... Depends on your point of view.
All this she says slowly, as if studying the response. Fingers sometimes run over the stem of the glass, and her eyes are constantly looking into the eyes of the interlocutor.
- Zeta Forli. From Kintargo. And no, I'm not demon-blooded, rather efreet-blooded. However, the big question is whether it is good or bad. Depends on the angle of view, again... Right, sir...?
She raises one eyebrow and grins slightly.
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- Oh, Cheliax. See, here it is again, famous "angle of view." On the one hand, we are countrymen. On the other hand - only formally, considering all recent events in my city.
She slowly tastes the wine, and then continues.
- And how do the devil's servants have fun? Is it as serious as your whole church?
It seems to provoke a little, but only a little. A slight half-smile still remains on her face.
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A heavily hooded figure, no taller than the average halfling scurries into the receiving room of Venture Captain Roderus. However, as she takes off her face-scarf and her turban, it is not a halfing, but rather a white-furred rat-faced creature, with pinkish-red eyes.
"Its quite hot out, though, I suppose not deleteriously so," the ratfolk murmurs to herself, "It doesn't get this hot in Druma, no, no, it doesn't."
A rapier, not much more than a toothpick, sits on her side, and numerous, shiny, metallic contraptions cling to her belt. "I've never been this far south before, though I was in Thuvia for a little while. It was hotter but not as humid there." she said both nervously and awkwardly. "Does anyone see a water jug? I'm rather parched, and the people outside in the markets, they seemed awfully too eager to sell at an inflated price, and I'm really not that good at haggling, I'm afraid..."
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Zeta rolls her eyes. She looks a bit dissapointed.
- Well, contracts are very... exciting... Yes... I made some kind of contract once. I still enjoy the consequences of my choice.
Perhaps, never before had Mathos heard so much poison in the word "enjoy."
- Oh, my friend is the way that force with whom I’ve made contact... talks to me.
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- Edwin, salut! She makes a gesture with her hand, vaguely like some kind of military greeting.
- Our friend is thirsty. She points at ratfolk. Do you have water? I only have this wine.
She curves her lips, trying to give her face a sympathetic-innocent expression.
- Are you by any chance from the Silver Crusade, Edwin Towerfall? Maybe we are colleagues?
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A tall traveller wearing a thin robe and a wide brimmed hat enters from the forge like heat of the streets. upon removal of the hat and facewrap, the wanderer is revealed to be a woman of Taldan stock. She unfurls her hair from a tight bun and sighs in relief.
It is hotter than a dwarven hearth out there. Sorry...I am Shayna Therinor, of the Cassomir Therinors. Delighted to meet you all... she says as she eyes the rest of the group. She unceremoniously dumps her gear in a heap in the corner, with an audible thud and clang.
I must head out to the market later...after a nice bath and a meal. If I have to haggle over as little as a fig, I will gut the merchant...travelling in this heat is nigh torture. she laments as she takes a pull off her waterskin, draining the last of it in two gulps.
Excuse the unladylike behaviour...it has been a long road to get here.
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Venture-Captain Roderus, an old, white-haired human, stands up from his chair with a slight groan. “Ahhh,” he winces slightly. “What a relief to see you. I’ve requested you for a project that’s very important not only because failure could adversely affect every Pathfinder in the city, but also because it’s the last mission I intend to give as a venture-captain.” He takes a deep, steadying breath.
“I need you working as staff for my retirement party. It’s all been arranged already; there’s food coming, entertainment, decorations, and all the expected distractions. What we need now are bodies: someone pouring drinks, someone on security, that sort of thing. You get enough egos in one room and set the wine flowing and someone’ll pick a fight, sure as day. We need Pathfinders keeping the other Pathfinders in line.” The old man sighs.
"Or, at least, that’s the official story. Unofficially, you’re here because I need eyes and ears all over the room tonight. There’s more at stake here than you might realize.
“I kept hoping that those two venture-captains, Phlegos Dulm and Wulessa Yuul, would learn to make peace by the time I was gone, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be. The city’ll be in their care once I’m gone, and the two of them have been at each other’s throats since before I announced my retirement. I can’t leave in good conscience if it means Pathfinders fighting in the streets.
“Work that crowd tonight. You hear those two talking, you come straight to me. You hear rumors, you come straight to me. You find evidence of a plot, you come straight to me. Are we clear?”
the city’s masked rulers, the Pactmasters.
while Phlegos Dulm has always dealt with the markets. These days, however, they are both crossing into each other’s territory, actively courting Pathfinders to work for “their side” even when the mission should have fallen under the other’s jurisdiction.
help, primarily from poor, local street gangs doing his bidding for petty coin. The fact that he doesn’t—or can’t—get Pathfinders to do his work for him must mean it’s work he doesn’t want anyone knowing about.
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Zeta thoughtfully looks at the captain and listens carefully to every word.
- Yes, we are clear. At first glance... hmmm... But let me ask you a personal question! Which of these two would you like to see continue your work? Who do you personally think is more worthy? I guess that is solved at the top, but anyway.
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At the last minute another agent enters the meeting room. She appears to be human, except for her ears which are unusually long and pointed like an elf's and her hair is green.
"Vandelaria reporting for duty. Pardon my tardiness. I was given the assignment and the last moment and it took me some time to gear up."
By "gear up" she apparently meant armed. She carries a wide-barreled pistol and bandoliers festooned with alchemical cartridges. Several scroll cases are tucked into her belt.
"So there is no possibility of passing them over for a third option? If they cannot cooperate then it doesn't sound as though they are deserving of the position."
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Turning to Shayna and Mathos, “Dougle, my assistant, will hand out specific assignments, but we need people working security, tending bar, delivering food, that sort of thing. If any of you can sing or play, we’ve got some bards coming who say they’d appreciate support.”
To the others, “Those two have been venture-captains for years and never got along, but now I’m hearing reports about sabotaged goods, intimidated contacts, and even Pathfinder missions mysteriously going awry. It’s obvious those two are connected to all that, and Pathfinders sabotaging other Pathfinders cannot be overlooked. You should talk to them, but not on my behalf. Perhaps they will open up more to aspiring agents such as yourselves.”
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The Venture-Captain replies to Jikma, You may certainly talk to them, but do not mention my involvment.
That evening...
The party is held in the common room of the Winding Road Inn, a coaching inn on the outskirts of Katapesh that serves as Roderus’s Pathfinder Lodge.
The porter for the inn introduces you to to Dougle, Roderus’s halfling
assistant. Well then, I see you've deigned to come work the party, Pathfinders. We have work for you to do. Let me introduce you to the people you'll be working with. Dougle tugs on his pipe and releases a cloud of harsh pipe smoke. Clearly he like his tabac to be potent.
You are ushered over to a trio of half-elven siblings, These are Kitt, Kora, and Kaba. Bards of some repute.
Dougle points at a woman clearing tables and placing settings in the hall. That is Vinius Borr. She will assist with various duties tonight.
And that goblin over there is Zig. I've never had anyone bug me for a job so much as he. Quite the go-getter he is.
So, I'll be needin folks to pour drinks (Sleight of Hand), serve food (Diplomacy), do security (Intimidate), and tend to the horses and such in the stables (Handle Animal). If you be having skill with language, we may need translators (Linguistics). As well, we have performers but if you prefer to try your hand, we'll take that too (Perfom).
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Dougle is satisfied with your attempt to assist and waves you off. Fine, fine. You are all masters of your craft and all that. Go about your business and be cordial to the guests. If anything comes up, bring it to my attention. Otherwise, make nice and stay out of trouble.
The party is free to roam around the party.
Roderus is retiring.
market on their side, and Phlegos Dulm has a lot of friends in the market.