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An auburn haired ifrit sticks her head in the room. Hmm! No one here yet? That's a first. She leans her longspear against the wall as she helps herself to some of the refreshments. Oh, I do hope they have cherries this time. Some links of her chain shirt softly jingle as she moves about the room. Happy with her selection, the oracle sits back down, tucking her feet underneath her.
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After a few minutes, and then a few moments of the soft sound of quick, long paces outside the door, a young elf woman appears, frowning slightly into a tome that she balances awkwardly as she walks. She looks up on arriving, and seeing someone else about, politely closes her book. Oh, that’s nice. I always feel so awkward when I’m the first to arrive.
Before finding a place to set down her reading material so she can also help herself to a biscuit to nibble on, she decides to introduce herself, clutching her book to her as if for balance as she dips somewhere between a friendly nod and a small curtsey. “Hello,” she says, smiling, “I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Tasarë Solaera, but call me Willow – most everyone does!”
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The ifrit rises and walks toward the elf, extending her arm for a handshake."Hi Willow. A pleasure to meet you. I'm Azora Imolar, but most just call me Zora." She nods toward the table, "No cherries, but the strawberries are really sweet. Have you ever tried them with cheese? It is delicious." Zora heads back to her chair. "So, what's your book about? It seemed to be holding your attention well enough. Anything juicy in there?"
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Nino has no memory of a time before pain—pain suffered, and pain inflicted. A half-orc of the Haskodar tribe in Blisterwell, Nino was constantly forced to fight for survival against his larger, stronger tribe-mates, and quickly learned that the best defense is a total lack of fear or restraint. Those who thought to casually bully the child soon learned the error of their ways, for in Nino’s mind, every fight is a fight to the death, and anyone who pretends otherwise leaves themselves vulnerable.
Nino has no interest in picking on the weak, but believes that might makes right, relishing the red rush of battle and the communion it brings him with his god. He’s not opposed to working with—or even for—those he considers his equals, but those individuals are few and far between, and must take pains to show him proper respect. Perhaps the only activity other than combat that truly brings him pleasure is making music on his
drum—and then only if it’s sufficiently riotous as to echo the clamor of battle.
"Greeting to you all! My name is Nino! Will we work on this together?" says huge orc and sits down.
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A Half-orc walks into the room. He appears rather put together: black suit and tie, walking with a cane (which appears to be more for show than support), his dark black hair neatly combed, and his straight teeth―save for the tusk on the right side of his face―in a wide, unnatural grin. Walking behind him is some shadowy figure, which you can't fully make out until it gets closer. "Ah, refreshments!" he exclaims, reaching over to grab a few small snacks, and then walks over to the rest of the group to introduce himself. "Hello there! My name is William Farusk Grimm. And this here," he motions behind him to the shadowy figure, "is Don Tasque."
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Now that it's closer, you can make out the shadowy figure better. It appears to be in a cloak, and if you look close enough, you can almost see through it. Its face is mostly hidden under a hood, but you can clearly see its eyes, which seem to be dripping blood. There's a shackle around where its neck should be, with chains on either side, descending to shackled skeletal wrists, with arms coming from underneath the cloak. It doesn't seem to have any legs, and its bottom half is concealed in shadow. When it approaches, it makes no sound but a high-pitched SCREEECH!
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"So, what's your book about? It seemed to be holding your attention well enough. Anything juicy in there?"
“Only for a novice,” Willow says, modestly. “My dream is to finally wrap my head around wizardry soon – transmutation, especially – but it’s slow going on my own. I still haven’t quite got a feel for sorting out the inner quiddity and haecceity of things in the moment of shaping a spell, like you have to, you know?”
She shrugs, knowing arcane theory makes most people’s eyes glaze over. “I have learned a trick or two for boosting my archery, though.”
Turning to acknowledge Nino and William, her eyes sparkle with excitement, and not a little curiosity about the unsettling Don Tasque, though she tries to maintain her aplomb. “A pleasure! I wonder where we’re off to?”
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Why you met at a lonely shippers office next to the crowded docks in Absalom's main harbor you may never know, at least there were some meager refreshments for your wait.
Ambrus Valsin, headmaster of the Grand Lodge, enters the door fighting the brisk early morning wind outside with a heavy pleated coat pulled tight around his substantial frame. He takes a quick look at those assembled and smiles.
"Ah, you're here. Well most of you, anyway." He then abruptly pulls a mashed handful of papers from his inside pockets and splays them on the table with a snap of his wrist.
"Here are your tickets for a journey aboard the Throaty Mermaid. You're heading to Varisia... and beyond. Now - do what you need to prepare for a long seaward journey. The tickets here will guarantee your passage as well as three square meals a day for the duration. For your safety I am not at liberty to tell you exactly why you are going where you are going but suffice it to say, there is a reason the Decemvirite are putting Pathfinder agents aboard this ship. If anyone asks, you are simply escorting another one of the passengers, an elf by the name of Sephriel. He is a bit of a loner, so remember he is your employer and so keep any talk with him to a minimum."
He pauses for emphasis as he takes a bit of biscuit for himself.
"Now.. we don't mean to keep you in the dark forever. Once you reach the port in Magnimar, you will have a short shore leave while they restock. Take that time to meet up with Venture Captain Sheila Heidmarch there. She will fill you in on the import of this mission and your true reasons for taking the voyage and protecting this particular elf."
As he turns to leave, he remembers. "There should be a few others coming, do wait a bit longer for them and let them know just what I've told you."
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Although somewhat bemused by the reticence, as always, of the higher-ups in the Society, Willow knows how precious privacy can be, so she’s not really too put out. Besides, the thought of visiting Magnimar is too exciting to worry about anything else. The young elf almost bounces as she rocks forward in glee, “Magnimar! I’ve never been, how thrilling! I know where I’m spending my leave already…”
Her mind awhirl with visions of the Golemworks, a practical thought does cross her mind that restocking some equipment first might be an idea.
Conig knows a thing or two about transmutation. I can offer you some notes if you like. A medium stature rat-person comes out of the shadow of these taller people.
The responsible thought threatens to evaporate with Conig’s offer, though. “That would be wonderful, thanks! Although it will be a while before I can repay you with anything other than filling things with arrows, on a good day, or offering an apprentice’s second opinion.”
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The responsible thought threatens to evaporate with Conig’s offer, though. “That would be wonderful, thanks! Although it will be a while before I can repay you with anything other than filling things with arrows, on a good day, or offering an apprentice’s second opinion.”
Conig waves a paw, No repayment necessary. The Society is stronger for our compliment improving their collective knowledge. And who knows. We may find each other on assignment together in the future.
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Willow extracts a scrap of, well, scrap paper from the loose sheets tucked into the cover of her book, and jots down a short list. The folks nearest to her might catch a murmur about how she “…hopes this time there won’t be anything swarming.” She's fond of many small mammals, but there are limits.
She remembers stories back home about the spells used as part of the effort to keep Tanglebriar in check, designed to be a bit safer to send through a forest, and wonders if anyone’s tried to scale them down. The ones she knows of are still far beyond the wildest dreams of her foreseeable future. Resignedly, she admits, So, alchemy it is, for the time being.
It’s not a very long list, and folding it away Willow jokes, “That is one of the nice things about being a starving student: it makes preparing for a journey easier! There’s just a few things I need to make sure I’ve to hand…”
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After nearly two months at sea (fifty days to be exact), and with cargo stops in Ostenso, Corentyn, and Kintargo along the way... the grand city of Magnimar in western Varisia comes into view on the horizon. One of the ship mates barks down at you. "Time to rest and recoup, land-lovers! We leave again at daybreak, don't tarry or you'll miss the full glory of the Arcadian Ocean."
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After such a long sea voyage, the Pathfinder lodge at Heidmarch Manor in Magnimar is a welcome place to spend the night on dry land. In the shade of the gazebo on the shore of the manor’s exotic carp pond, the resident venture-captain, Sheila Heidmarch, speaks to the assembled Pathfinders in a low, breathy voice.
“I hope you’ve found your brief stay here in the City of Monuments relaxing. The Pathfinder Society owes you a debt of gratitude for engaging in such an important and lengthy mission. When you set out from Absalom nearly two months ago, I’m sure you never anticipated the monotony of a life at sea, but I’m happy we can put you up as the ship restocks before the final leg of the journey... to the Mordant Spire."
“Thus far, you have done an excellent job of representing the Society as the escorts of the Mordant Spire’s envoy, the distinguished Sephriel, whom we hope had a productive meeting with the Decemvirate regarding the Azlanti ruins over which the Mordant Spire elves hold such a protective position. If he was pleased with the meeting and doesn’t find you too reprehensible, perhaps we can launch full expeditions into the lost continent of Azlant from this very lodge in the near future.”
She winks, and her eyes glance around at each of you. With a wry smirk, she continues.
“Keep up the good work, and ensure that Sephriel’s final two weeks on the Throaty Mermaid are as pleasant and event-free as they can be on as disreputable a smugglers’ ship as it is. Thus far, it’s provided an unassuming cover for such an important dignitary. Let’s hope the unscrupulous crew delivers their current cargo on time and in pristine condition. When you arrive at Riddleport (after dropping Sephriel at the Mordant Spire), a chartered boat, "The Morning Glory", will be waiting to take you back to Absalom, hopefully at greater speed. May Desna’s blessings be upon you.”
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Happy to be off the boat, if even for a short while, Azora basks in the ability to walk in a straight line for more than a few hundred feet."Captain Heidmarch, why is Sephriel's presence such a secret? If this relationship is so special, why have the envoy transported by smugglers? Doesn't that put everything at risk, even with our presence? I'm not telling the Decemvirate how to do their job. I'm just trying to understand the reasoning behind all this."
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The Venture Captain smiles proudly at Azora's intuition. She takes a sip of wine from her slender silver cup and explains. “To be honest, passage on the Throaty Mermaid was arranged by Sephriel himself. He knew that a military escort or even a respectable merchant vessel might attract unwanted attention, and felt that no one would suspect his presence on a disreputable ship like the Throaty Mermaid. An inspired plan, to be sure, but not without its own dangers, as you have surmised. That’s precisely why you’re there: to make sure the smugglers and thieves who undoubtedly make up the ship’s crew don’t cause him any problems.”
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After weeks at sea, Willow’s spent her leave tearing about Magnimar like a storm, taking in as much of the city that’s at all of interest to a would-be wizard as she possibly can in the few hours she has. Now, hearing the actual destination of the group’s mysterious charge, she almost bursts. She wonders if she can dare hope for any time to poke about the Spire too, at least to look at – all she knows are vague rumours.
William and Conig’s remarks only give her the briefest pause. She knows they’re teasing, so she says nothing, contenting herself with pointing her small tongue. It’s childish, and immensely satisfying. :)
“It does sound like a bit of a test,” Willow chimes in, after hearing Azora’s question and the Venture-Captain’s explanation. “Whatever tentative arrangement’s been reached with the Decemvirate, just how … reprehensible we are will probably factor into future negotiations.”
“Our Spire kin are standoffish even by Kyonin standards,” she adds, giving a small, apologetic shrug and a smile to show that she concedes her people’s peskiness. “I’m not sure where the nearest active aiudara are, but I’m fairly sure there’s one hereabouts. I would think that would be more convenient, but who knows what they’re thinking.”
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A brawny man of Taldan stock enters the room. His closely cropped hair barely hiding a few scars. He drops his pack in a corner and moves to join the others in the room.
Apologies for my tardiness. I got my marching orders late. I am Karlos, of the Cassomir Therinors. Glad to meet you all he says with a deep timbre to his voice. He nods in acknowledgement to the others.
So...wat have I missed?
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The Throaty Mermaid sets sail as promised the next morn. For many of you, it is your first voyage westward into the unknown Arcadian Ocean. Although you won't be travelling to the strange and mysterious continent that gives the Ocean its name, you will be heading to the unique isles that make up the Ironbound Archipelago.
Whereas the previous route took you no more than a day or two from the coasts of Avistan, it is with some sense of dread that you leave the continent far behind you and the ocean grows dark and the nights even darker.
A Bonuwat shaman from Sargava, Ulamon employs his mastery of wind and waves to keep the ship on course and moving faster than pirates with eyes on their cargo or authorities who might frown on the Throaty Mermaid’s less-than-legal activities.
Shira Acidaxe can be found in the galley at almost any time of day. This one-eyed dwarf serves as the Throaty Mermaid’s cook and has for the last twenty years. Her time at sea has not been kind to her, and in addition to her tattered eye patch, she sports a mouth of silvered teeth, a nasty scar on her cheek, and is missing half of her left ear.
Also wandering the ship, is the half elf Azuretta. She has been in the employ of Captain Veane for five years, and has become quite adept at providing the Captain and his crew exactly what they want when she spends time with them. As part of her employment, Azuretta’s services are provided free of charge to any crewmember, but her company is considered to be a benefit the captain enjoys by default.
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The close quarters of a ship might not be too promising for a restless young elf, but Willow’s a quiet one, and if anything she prides herself on finding ways not to get underfoot, though it takes a bit of doing. A ship under sail is an unsuitable habitat for an archer in particular, but she manages to beg a bit of deck space in the first evening watch, when the light is low enough that most of the crew has retired belowdecks but she can still use her elven night-vision to practice.
With those arrangements for her physical exercises, the better part of Willow’s day is spent poring over her readings for her largely self-directed arcane studies, with a bit of overlap towards sunset when she prepares for her target practice with a bit of abstruse martial form-work.
That said, she’s generally curious and tries to be friendly. During her breaks from her reading, if she can time them with various crew members’, she tries to swap lore and stories: with Ulamon and Killik, and with Anera and Shira, respectively. Respecting Sephriel’s wishes, she’ll exchange a cordial nod on the odd occasion he surfaces to show she’s available if he needs a word, but stays out of his way.
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The first week at sea passes uneventfully, a few squalls barely challenge the able crew and it's beginning to look like this whole trip might just be much ado about nothing.
Deep into the night on the seventh day, things change considerably. Azora and Conig are taking overnight watch on the completely empty deck, having recently seen Nino depart for the night and considering just when to wake up Willow for her turn.
Azora stands close to the main mast watching all the doors still fixating on what it would feel like to be submerged in the vast ocean. For his part, Conig has positioned himself above the grate directly above Sephriel's room on the deck below, listening for any strange sounds.
The night is quite clear, countless stars in the sky and all, but Conig can plainly hear the sounds of metal grappling hooks clanking over the aft railing and then the quick patter of footfalls up the hull. The Throaty Mermaid is being boarded on the aft deck!
Conig <full round and gets a surprise round action too>
Pink Creature
Orange Creature
Yellow Creature
Karlos <asleep>
Tasarë "Willow" <asleep>
William <asleep>
Red Creature
Azora
Nino <asleep>
Don Tasque
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The pistol shot strikes true through the balustrades and nearly severs the silken rope. The weight of the creature on the other end finishes the job and there is a satisfying splash in the water below.
Moments later, two elvish looking women clamber aboard and draw their tridents. Even in the moonlight their skin flashes with blue and green tint.
Conig
Pink Creature <in water>
Orange Creature
Yellow Creature
Karlos <asleep>
Tasarë "Willow" <asleep>
William <asleep>
Red Creature
Azora
Nino <asleep>
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Hearing Conig cry out, and the report of his pistol moments later, Willow wakes with a start, reaching for her quiver even as she scrambles out of her hammock.
"Coming! Can someone wedge the door?!" she calls out, as even the ship's gentle rolling threatens to send the cabin door slamming shut again...