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Despite the early hour, the Grand Lodge of Absalom is already bustling with activity. One of the few quiet places is just outside Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin's office, where you now are. Old Mutton-Chops sent for each of you with little notice, and is now taking his time to finish whatever he is up to and open the door.
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Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin finally opens the door to his office and drops a small stack of papers on his desk. “Agents, I appreciate your willingness to meet with me on such short notice.” He takes a moment to reorganize the papers into a neat pile and catch his breath before continuing. “Now then, we recently acquired a relic known as the Inheritor’s Clasp — or rather, one of our agents infiltrated a cult of Rovagug worshipers and stole it. History says that Iomedae dropped the Inheritor’s Clasp on the day she entered the Starstone Cathedral. According to old Arodenite accounts, the clasp might function as a powerful holy relic, though that theory has yet to be proven conclusively.
“I received word from our infiltrator’s handler, an alchemist by the name of Inisa Ardaali, that she was preparing to take the clasp from Katapesh and deliver it to the Grand Lodge for further study. Inisa is a cautious sort by nature. Considering the manner in which she acquired the clasp and the potential interest of...other parties, Inisa determined that it was best to use discretion in bringing the clasp here. As such, she traveled to Diobel, where she hired a caravan for the final stretch of the journey to Absalom. However, we recently received a missive from Inisa sent from a safe house in Diobel. Take a look.” He hands over a surprisingly weathered scrap of parchment.
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After a brief pause, Valsin chimes in. “You can see what’s wrong, then? Inisa must have been worried about the message being intercepted; and to be fair, the Aspis Consortium and other rivals are strong in Diobel. It seems to me that after thieves ambushed the caravan, she helped the survivors back to one of our safe houses in Diobel and then set out to recover the stolen clasp. But which safe house, and where is she searching? In denying any interlopers the information, she’s also made this a lot harder for us,” a sigh escapes from the Venture-Captain’s lips.
He hands over a sheet from his stack. “I’ve just secured passage for you on the next ship to Diobel. I need you make your way there, locate the caravan, and retrieve the clasp from these thieves. If you are able to track down Inisa, all the better. She should have much more information than appears in this letter. If she hasn’t met her end searching for the clasp on her own, make sure she makes it safely back to Absalom. Now, there isn’t much time, so are there any questions?”
Kyra takes ahold of the message, trying to internalize its hidden meaning. "A...A...L...S...W...I,," she mutters aloud as she reads the first letter of each line. "A secret message no doubt? Some sort of anagram?"
The cleric thoughtfully mulls over the possibilities, "SAI? AWL? AS WAIL? IS A LAW?"
"I suspect that the missing Pathfinders are either hiding in a funeral home or the office of an attorney--or even the courthouse, perhaps." she rapidly concludes.
"Abbreviations rather than an anagram?" ponders Kyra. "I never was one for cyphers."
The cleric thinks some more, then asks, "Is there anyway that we can identified this...'I'... once we find her." It is clear that Kyra is referring to Inisa, but seems to taking a crack at employing the "code".
Mordack arrives late Yeah, behind schedule is all
Xavier de Ramirez enters the office. He is a tall black haired human with a handlebar mustache wearing gleaming half plate armor and has a greatsword slung over his left shoulder.
"You rang, Venture Captain Ambrus?"
"Sounds like Inisa lady is already looking for the clasp too," pipes up a goblin with tree-trunks for legs who stomps into the room. "So we find clasp, we find her too, yeah? Okay! Derek is ready to go!"
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The Venture-Captain winces slightly at what will likely bruise his stately office floor. "Yes. Finding her caravan, her, or the Inheritor's Clasp will likely help you locate the other two. Good luck, Pathfinders."
The small boat Valsin has chartered bears several other passengers, but your party seems to be the last group, as it sets off just after you arrive. It moves quickly, reaching a neighborhood built on broken ships and scrap known as the Trawl. From there, the letter of passage affords you room on one of many oyster-laden boats to Diobel proper. By the time it arrives, it is late afternoon, but many merchants still cry out their wares.
Not confident in her own knowledge, Kyra begins asking locals, but without arousing suspicion, "I am looking for 'I'? Have you seen her? Frequenting a funeral home? Maybe wandering a cemetery? Or skulking around a lawyer's office, perhaps?"
Mordack will Ask questions then look around
Derek tries his hardest to be sociable...
He then begins searching around town, trying to find a house that he thinks would look safe.
Xavier considers what he knows about Society before beginning his search.
He then begins to look around Diobel for a safehouse at first, but realizing that it would take more time than he has before it gets dark, begins to ask people questions about the caravan and local trade routes.
He thinks to himself, "Maybe if I know what gate they set out of I can backtrack to a safehouse."
Kyra continues questioning locals, but decides to try a different approach.
"I seek news of a caravan said to have passed through here recently. Have you ever heard anything about trade goods or other merchandise passing through this port, which happens to share an island with the largest city within the Inner Sea?"
With his initial attempts frustratingly unproductive, Derek continues his search for the safehouse. "Why they hide it so good? Don't they want us to find it?" he wonders aloud, not really getting the notion of what a safehouse is supposed to be.
Xavier follows up his first Society check by trying to recall a bit more.
Mordack will ask question
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Per Xavier's memory, the main road leading to Absalom isn’t the only route east, though most of these other routes see far less use due to the dangers of the region. One route in particular is perfect for a caravan trying to avoid attention. That'll be the first, likely only place to start looking for the Pathfinders.
Upon trying to think harder, he starts believing that a single road connects Diobel and Absalom as smaller trails are too poorly maintained to support a caravan. But that is quickly discounted as wrong, considering his earlier revelations.
Mordack, meanwhile, has some success chatting up the locals. "Inland trade route isn't often used," says a pasty-faced man. "There's been a number of minotaur attacks along the path, over the years. And yet it's still the most-used way to Absalom, by land at least. The others are just that bad."
With the likely route uncovered, investigation can turn to that particular path's dangers. Minotaurs, certainly, but what else lies there?
Xavier once again asks around Diobel about a caravan and the route it took to Absalom.
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Xavier's questioning eventually brings him to an unsavory-looking group. "The minotaurs, sure they're dangerous. Not like any of us could take one," says a hunched person, their voice surprisingly clear through caked teeth. "But th' real trouble lies in those roving bands'a centaurs. Keep to and around their mountains, but have grudges with everyone this side of Jalmeray. Aspis, Pathfinders - you name it, they can't stand you."
On that happy note, and with most less seedy folk going to bed, it seems prudent to follow suit. Valsin's set of notes includes enough money for lodging at a reasonable price. In the morning, there will be time to search for more information, and the safehouse.
Mordack will continue getting more info about the situation
After sleeping off the previous day's failures, Derek returns to the search for the safehouse with a determination bordering on obsession.
After his search brings up more failure, he reflects on what he knows about the wildlife living between Absalom and Diobel.
Kyra notes, "This caravan that I seek may have been bearing a relic. Have you seen anyone acting particularly suspicious or overly protective of their goods?"
She then walks around outside to clear her thoughts.
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Kyra's reflection lead to the same thing a few people now mention to the assorted party. "Diobel's always on the lookout for harpies in the area," a tall woman pipes up. "Nasty things, can't let them settle down too close or there could be problems. One recently took up a lair in Shrieking Peak - little mountain not far from the inland road - they aren't causing us any grief, though."
As several other people also note this, among other things the party has already heard, it seems the locals have expended their usefulness. Now comes the best time to search for the safehouse. Derek's search hasn't taken him far, and most of the areas he has looked aren't to be discounted.
Xavier looks about for the safehouse.
With even the perceptive Mordack failing to find the safe house, Derek puts all his goblin brains to work and comes up with a plan. "Let the elf-y one look! They sees eeeeeverything!"
Kyra asks for the goddess' divine guidance upon her elvish companion, then points out a a few visual cues she spots.
Xavier searches yet again, but stops to get an order of Diobel's famous tacos at a food stall in the Diobel bazaar first. He thinks the hunger is distracting him.
Mordack will search himself accepting any aid
"Moar searching!!!"
Kyra again calls upon her deity to provide divine guidance upon her ally as well as lends her own eyes to the search.
Xavier will use his Perception again unless he can use his Diplomacy in some way to find the safehouse.
Another search
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After some time, Mordack finally spots the building in the Claw district. It's distinctive in how commonplace it is, and even the identifying Pathfinder marks are intentionally obscured. Two people who don't look like locals have just arrived from the opposite direction and are also inspecting the safehouse.
Inside the building lies a grim scene. A man and a woman who look like mercenaries lie on makeshift beds, covered in bandages and open wounds alike. Against the opposite wall, another man is slumped, copious amounts of blood dried over his hands. Upon the team's entrance, he starts, but his alarm changes to relief.
"Oh, thank Pharasma," he says. "I'm Ralsam, a local medic. A week ago, some lady named Inisa rushed into town, covered in blood and dragging these two. She hired me to tend to them as best I could. She was worse off, but refused any treatment. Muttered something about having to recover some important item. And she left in the night a few days after. Left behind some more silver. Not enough for this kind of job, I'll admit."
Ralsam looks to a basin of water to clean his hands, but it's already mostly blood. "That, and I'm in over my head. They'll likely survive, but take a while to get back up and running. They wake from time to time, as if from nightmares. I assume you're pressed for time, but can you do anything for them?"
Kyra bows her head, folds her hands, and mutters a nearly silent prayer. A radiant dispersal of positive energy emanates from her form.
"Ralsam, is it?" the cleric then asks, taking charge. "Thank you for your difficult service. We will see that you are properly compensated. Now, cleanse your linens and I, by the will of the Dawnflower, will tend to the fallen."
Starting with the one with the most severe looking injuries, Kyra begins tending to wounds.
Xavier will move into the building and begin to tend to one of the other injured men with his healer's kit as well.
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Between Kyra's healing magic and the careful ministrations of both her and Xavier, the hired hands look much better. One of them even comes to for a few seconds. "Minotaurs! They're attacking the caravan, down the eastern path..." he cries before lapsing back into a fitful rest.
Best to leave them be now that they are on the mend. His exclamation has confirmed the path Inisa was assumed to have gone, and now a danger has been revealed.
We better hurry then and get rid of them before they tear apart more caravans.
A middle aged halfling with brown eyes, Tjrren brightens seeing the healing magic and then instantly dims again upon hearing about the minotaurs.
"We arrived late but were sent after you as additional support. I'm Tjrren. Further meetings can wait, I guess? It sounds like we have someplace we should be. Lead the way."
Tjrren is wearing tattered robes of a Pharasma priest and a battered shield. He gestures towards the door as he speaks.
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Ralsam thanks the team profusely for their assistance, promising to keep the mercenaries in his care for now. Your destination is perhaps 19 miles away, across all manner of annoying terrain. It will takes 8 hours on foot, or 5 by horse (most can be rented for one silver piece per horse per day).
The end point is made obvious by a would-be placid scene marred with violence. A small stone bridge crosses over a shallow, gentle river. A large wagon lies abandoned a short distance from the bridge, with bloody bodies strewn about. Several are partially stuck in the slow water. Most of them have familiar humanoid forms, while two bodies are of creatures with the torsos of muscular humans and the head and hooves of bulls.
" Ack! We are late!" Tjrren gasps with dismay and dropping to the ground rushes towards the bodies to see if any still live.
"I'll check the bodies on the right....someone check the bodies on the left?"
His feet slapping the ground as he runs, Tjrren looks around briefly and then runs into check the bodies.
The lean, athletic Varisian woman introduces herself as Muriel outside the warehouse. She wears a longbow, a short sword, a main-gauche, and an assortment of star knives.
Once inside, she takes a moment to assess the situation and then jumps in to help.