“I go,” said Tabaqui the jackal quietly. “Ye can hear Jumra Khan below in the thickets.”
Father Wolf listened, and in the dark valley that ran down to a little river, he heard the dry, angry, snarly, singsong whine of a tiger who has caught nothing and does not care if all the jungle knows it.
"The fool!" said Father Wolf. "To begin a night's work with that noise! Does he think that our buck are like his fat Jalmeray bullocks?"
"H'sh! It is neither bullock nor buck that he hunts tonight," said Mother Wolf.
"It is Man."
The city of Padiskar near the northern tip of the Isle of Jalmeray is not so much a city as a ring of small villages surrounding a massive, howling ruin, from which terrifying screams of whatever the Vudrani Maharaja Khiben-Sald left there in ancient times can still be heard.
You have been given directions to a small villa in the city, which Padiskar’s longtime Venture-Captain Aamina Shahrazad used to oversee as a safe house for the Pathfinder Society. Unfortunately, VC Shahrazad was murdered recently by men loyal to a bandit lord and rumored Aspis agent named Zamir, who operates out of the surrounding jungle.
In their wisdom, the Ten have appointed a temporary Seeker Agent in charge of the Padiskar Lodge while a permanent replacement for VC Shahrazad is sought.
“An outsider!” The Majordomo confides to you in a scandalized tone.
The Lodge’s servants remain on edge as they usher you into the briefing room. However, the presence of pomegranates, figs, hot tea and Gin Fizz suggests the disruption caused by the new Lady of the Manor has not diminished their efficiency.
As you wait for the acting venture-captain, the arrival of your fellow agents makes this the perfect time for introductions …
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"Wow Palo, this place sure is fancy compared to the Grand Lodge," comes a rumbly sort of voice from just outside the briefing room. A moment later, a rather small-looking (but still quite large) black panther pads into the room and looks around. Whiskers quiver as the great feline sniffs the air. A small rune glows brightly atop the beast's forehead.
"They've even got pillows and food everywhere," the panther suddenly speaks, whipping his head around to address someone behind him. "This place is amazing! Come on, we need to get the softest spots!"
With that, the somewhat-little panther bounds across the floor and down to the seating area, flopping down on several pillows that lie piled in one corner.
"Ahhhh...softest spot acquired," the feline sighs contentedly. "This is already the best briefing ever."
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Following behind the panther is a young human woman with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and green eyes, dressed in simple traveling clothes and carrying a backpack on one shoulder. Though rather pretty, the woman's beauty is somewhat marred by the sour, long-suffering expression she wears on her face.
"At least something in this pissant town is fancy," she mutters, pausing to look around at her surroundings. "Because there's nothing else going it for besides farms as far as the eye can see and the stink of the fish markets."
She sighs and shrugs her pack off her shoulder and then gingerly moves to join the panther on the seat-pillows. "...Huh. These are pretty soft, I guess. And it's nice to take a load off after all that walking to get up here from the docks."
"So...guess now it's time to hurry up and wait," the woman adds after a pause. "Story of my life, but at least this time the wait's comfortable," she continues as she leans against the panther's flank, arms folded over her chest and one eye on the door.
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The next to walk...rather barge into the room is a woman that is preceded by the smell of liquor.
"What a trip! The waters are far too warm though but the alcohol is top notch. Anyways, it is time for business now, yes? Shame but I did hear talk of some Apsis bastards to deal with!" she goes on before finding a comfy spot along the wall to post up against.
After the shock of the vulgar and loud entrance you get a better look at the woman. Her lithe frame is protected by a glimmering blue chain shirt and attire that would be fitting of a sailor. The black bandanna barely holds back the tousled hair peaking out which happens to be a deep blue hue tipped with what appears to be perpetual frost. The stands of hair framing her nearly white face that has a permanent smirk and sharp blue eyes.
After her tirade she looks around the room and when she spots the rather large cat she places one hand on a pistol and the other on a tome.
"Damn, that is no house cat! Is it trained? My name is Sinaryn, Captain of the Squall's Purchase, and one of the Pathfinder agents sent here."
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"Oh Cinnamon dear, it's so good to see you - how is my favorite grandchild doing?" An older human woman hobbles into the room, leaving heavily on her cane and patting the undine (who bears no resemblance to her) on the arm. "It's been too long since we spoke. Your father never writes anymore, but your sister keeps me up to date on how you're doing." She settles down comfortably in one of the chairs, then stands to place a cushion in the seat. "Ah, much better," she sighs, eyes closed in contentment.
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Well, from the racket, I can assume I'm not the first one here. Lumbering into the room, the half-orc takes a moment to look around. It takes a brief moment to see the warrior has scars on the visible parts of his skin, including his face. "Name's Korum. Don't let me stop you from goin' 'bout yer business." He pauses a moment and his eyes nearly gloss over as his gaze falls on the gathered members. Good, none of the dead among 'em.
Rather at odds with his physical appearance, some of the more keen-eyed take note of a Shelynian holy symbol around his neck.
He scoops up a pair of the fruit and takes a seat. Moments later, after taking a bite from the pomegranate, the room hear a soft curse. "What the blazes? It's all seeds?"
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"Wow, is that a gun?" the panther exclaims as he rouses up a bit, apparently unfazed by the loud woman's willingness to use it on him if necessary. "Palo, she's got a gun! I remember what they look like from Yetor's drawings," he continues, turning to address the woman sitting next to him before turning his attention back to Sinaryn.
"Hello! I'm Relas and this is my human, Palo," he continues cheerfully. "It's nice to meet you, Sinaryn. I like your gun! Is there a story behind it?"
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"Yes, I remember the drawings too," Palo sighs, sitting up a little straighter on the cushions as others begin arriving. "Palomia Kasich," she continues, offering a curt nod to the new arrivals. "Junior agent, but I'm working my way up. I've got a knack for languages and I know a bit of magic, too. Relas here's harmless, as long as you don't do anything stupid."
As she speaks, she studies the three arrivals in an attempt to get their measure.
Hmm...I think the stink of liquor'd be enough to slay an ogre if it got too close but this Sinaryn seems like someone you wouldn't want to cross. Good.
A half-orc of few words? Big surprise there. Haven't seen many carrying Shelyn's symbol, though. I bet there's a story to that.
Can't believe they sent a grandma all the way out here. I guess the higher-ups must've had a reason for it but I'll be damned if I can tell what it is right now!
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"I may still be a bit drunk...oh well..." she sighs while taking a hand off the spellbook to wipe her eyes in disbelief.
She looks around and decides she has seen more peculiar things in the Society before replying.
"So, you can talk! Nice to meet you Relas. Oh this thing? It was one of the gifts from my father. Apparently he has the ability to hand out ships and guns but can't be bothered to leave the Plane of Water to meet his daughter in person!" she growls twirling the pistol and bringing it closer for Relas to see. The metal has a dark green hue like seaweed that allow the pearl inlays to shine even brighter.
After that she turns to the others especially Matrialda.
"Ma'am, are you alright. Have you been in the drink as well? Can I get you anything?" she asks gruff as ever but still concerned for the woman.
Wait, I don't have a sister...who is Cinnamon. I may have to stop drinking.
She shakes it off an waves at Korum.
"My name is not Cinnamon. It is Sinaryn and it is nice to meet you big guy!"
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The paladin offers a nod toward Sinaryn as he tries a fig. A lush and a princess, dime a dozen in The Society. The talking cat is new. Now, the matron? That's what I'm talkin' about. Smells like butterscotch, looks sturdy, and she's kinda cute. Korum smiles brightly at the primly dressed woman. "Excuse me ma'am. You must have introduced yourself before I arrived. How would you like to be addressed? Will you be joining us?" Because it would certainly give us time to get to know each other a little better.
“Ah, the sweet scent of lust is in the air. It must be spring ... somewhere.”
The doors to the briefing room fly open and a female half-elf glides into the room on bare feet. With an index finger aloft, she counts heads as she moves to join you, collapsing into the pillowed floor recess.
“Seeker Agent Luisila C. Mountjoy – but please call me Luisila – priestess of the Savored Sting, and envoy of the Grand Lodge. Welcome to Padiskar and the Impossible Isle.”
As she rearranges herself into a cross-legged sitting position, you note the Seeker wears a purple sari over a matching pantsuit. Loose auburn hair peeks out from beneath a headscarf, secured by a triple-dagger shaped pin. A black bindi ‘spot’ on her forehead denotes her availability, and a multitude of rings and small bells festoon the cleric’s fingers, earlobes and toes.
“Like cougars do you, Ser …” A Sanskrit list appears in her lap like magic. “Gorum(?)”
She looks up sharply at the paladin. “Sweet Cali’s Caress! I didn’t know The Lord in Iron worshipped Shelyn.”
“Master Relas, it might pay to ensure your human chaperones you day and night.” The half-elf’s laugh is loud and sounds well-practised.
“Captain Sinaryn, welcome. I trust the Squall’s Purchase made excellent time on the run from Absalom?”
“And Great Aunty Matrialda. Still breaking hearts wherever you go? I am pleased the servants thought to spare you the pit and find you a chair.”
A mischievous smile. “I find the introduction of a weekly ‘clothes-optional’ day has greatly improved their resourcefulness.”
“You could always take one as a mount.”
Luisila lifts a cushion at the edge of the recess, frowning as she finds the space beneath empty. She tries its neighbor, an overstuffed pink number with a tasselled fringe.
“Mind your butt, Capt’n Sinaryn.”
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Korum smiles brightly at the primly dressed woman. "Excuse me ma'am. You must have introduced yourself before I arrived. How would you like to be addressed? Will you be joining us?"
”Don’t be silly, Coral - of course you know you can always call me Granny.” The old woman’s voice is warm and and welcoming as she pets Relas’s head idly.
”Oh, that reminds me!” She bends down and pulls a woolen knit hat in a rainbow of garish colors from her pack. She rises from her chair and walks over to the half-orc, placing the hat on his head and smiling happily. ”I had to guess your size, but I couldn’t have my favorite grandchild’s head getting cold, now could I?”
Humming contentedly, she returns to her seat. ”Bologna, your cat has grown so much since your mother last wrote! I barely recognize him now. You simply mist tell me what you’re feeding him - too many of my grandchildren can’t keep weight on their bones.” She pulls out a pair of knitting needles and a ball of black yarn, the click of her efficient work echoing off the bare stone walls as a rodent-like form begins to take shape.
”And Lucy, what a surprise to see you here. I hope you’re settling in nicely - did those doilies I sent ever make it here?”
“They did thank-you, Great Aunt Matrialda. Along with your Cockatrice Vindaloo recipe.”
A triumphant look passes over Luisila’s face as she withdraws a sealed letter from the pink cushion’s silk lining. “Jalmerayse gatherings emphasize food that can be shared between new friends. And your spicy curry is perfect for that.”
“Now something for you.”
The Seeker stands and hands the letter to the Senior Savant. “A letter from Zarty, who sends her love.”
“But remember, Aunty.” Luisila waggles an index finger. “Don’t let the Paracountess’ desires interfere with the main mission. I am your favorite after all, am I not?”
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"Come on you! I don't care what you think it smells like in there. We're going and that is final"
A grey-skinned man wearing leathers is pulling a creature into the room by the straps of a harness that is attached to it. The creature is a reptilian as tall as a full-grown man, standing on two massive legs and two ridiculously small arm-like ones near the top of its body. It looks strikingly like a tyrannosaurus, but one that is much smaller than those you'd likely heard tales of. The beast roars defiantly.
"By Ayrzul's teeth you are the most childish creature I've ever known."
He drags the dinosaur near the seats and takes his place at the briefing.
"He's a bit of a handful, but he means well. I'm Angritt and this is Rath. We once served the Fossilized King on some forsaken rock, but when that went sideways we hitched a ride out of there with the Society. Decided to stick around for a bit and see what you were all about."
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Relas gives Palomia a rather meaningful look - for a panther - and leans in to whisper to her and any of the others sitting close by.
"Paloooo, be nice! I think her mind's wandering so she probably can't help it. And it doesn't hurt anything to play along, does it? Besides, we'll get to have a grandmother for a while! I've always heard good things about grandmothers, you know."
The panther opens his mouth to say something else but whatever it might've been is immediately forgotten as Angritt enters the scene, pulling a creature the likes of which Relas has never seen before on a leash.
"Oh my gosh! It's a big lizard Palo, look! Er, I mean, he's a big lizard! Er, I mean, hello Angritt and Rath, it's nice to meet you! Does Rath talk? It'd be so nice to have someone else from the other side along!"
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"Just remember - if you can't make your own cockatrice, store bought is fine," Matrialda says with a lighthearted laugh as she accepts the letter from the venture-captain. "And of course you're my favorite granddaughter, Lucy - you know I wouldn't ship sixty nine doilies across the Inner Sea for just anyone."
"I...wha...did you just call me 'Bologna'?" Palomia splutters, face turning pink. "Look, granny, I'm not your grandchild or bologna or anything else, okay? You've got the wrong-ow! Relas, that was my foot! Watch where you step, okay?"
"Nonsense, Bologna," the elderly woman says sternly as she looks over the top of her spectacles at the younger woman. "You think your own grandmother wouldn't know her favorite granddaughter? Now come hold this while I finish tying off the whiskers on this toy for dear little Trellis. He clearly needs to work off some of his energy - just look at him pawing at you like a kitten." She holds out what is clearly a large knitted black mouse, oddly shaped ever so slightly to roll and bounce unevenly.
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"I..." Palomia looks around and quickly realizes that she's not going to be getting any help from Relas or any of her fellow agents and utters a long, drawn-out sigh.
"Okay, sure. Just tell me how to hold it, alright?" she says as she reaches out to take hold of the knitted mousey toy.
The things I do to keep the peace...
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The exasperation finally breaks to humor for Sinaryn as she just laughs at the continuing chaos while turning back to the Seeker-Agent.
"The water was fine and warm. No chaos on the sea could top this gathering and soon we will be unleashed on some foolish Apsis. I almost feel bad for them. Any specifics we need to hear?" she says a bit more serious but still holding back a few deep laughs.
As the Pathfinders get to know one another and Sinaryn requests specifics, Luisila saunters over to an open window and calls down to a servant in the garden.
“Mahatmayā Wikramanayake. MAHATMAYA WIKRAMANAYAKE!
She then lets out a piercing ♫ WHISTLE ♫
“I’m starting now, so lock ‘er down. You can let the Steelblood Paladin in, but nobody else in or out … Yeah, that’s her. Now that you mention it she does look somewhat like Alahazra.”
The Seeker then positions herself by Rath, while she waits for you to settle down and the briefing begins.
“This is a fake Scepter of the Arclords – why thank-you, Rath.” The half-elf pulls a bejeweled staff bearing glowing runes out of the tyranosaur’s ear, and uses it as a pointer on a detailed map of Jalmeray.
“Following the dotted line, I want you to lead a caravan toward Niswan carrying this false relic and several crates of minor magical items. VC Shahrazad’s porter, a young boy named Waman, will give you a detailed travel itinerary, which you should follow with care.”
“EXCEPT that it is almost certain that you will be ambushed before you reach your destination, since young Waman is a spy for the Aspis Consortium. He has sold out and murdered a dozen or more of our brethren and associates, including his former venture-captain. Commune with the Savored Sting’s servants has confirmed it.”
“The scepter is bait in a trap. You are the steel teeth. Do not let on to Waman that you know of his transgressions — we need him to lead us to his master, the bandit lord Zamir. We’ll either make Zamir our man or disrupt his business permanently. I’ll deal with Waman myself once this affair is resolved.”
Luisila then pulls a plain-looking wayfinder from beneath Rath’s chin. “Clever boy!”
“This wayfinder is also a fake, although unlike the scepter, it does have real power. The dial always points to the scepter.”
The priestess demonstrates, moving the wayfinder in a circle around the scepter, the needle pointing unerringly at it. "Make sure to keep the wayfinder on one of you. It must not be stolen along with the scepter or this is all for naught."
“Waman gave Zamir information that enabled the bandit leader to steal artifacts from dozens of our caravans and even from safe houses such as this one. Zamir has a method of disassembling the artifacts so that he can smuggle them off the island, bound for ports in Cheliax. What we do not know is where Zamir is, since he never attacks with his men.”
“I gave Waman the information about your journey, so at some point along the route, Zamir’s bandits will ambush you. Very likely at one of the recommended camp sites. Previous experience indicates that his bandits will not kill if they don’t have to. Let them steal the scepter. You must put up a small struggle, maybe even kill or injure several of his men, but most importantly you must let them escape and they must escape with the scepter."
“Give them a few hours lead after the ambush to escape and then use the wayfinder to track Zamir to his hideout. Zamir is an arrogant man whose loyalties lie with whoever can make him famous to the people of Jalmeray.”
“Right now he believes the Aspis Consortium is the answer. You will either convince him that the Society is the answer — as he could be a very powerful ally in the region — or if you cannot, you’ll end his operations permanently.”
“Finally, beneath Palomia and Sinaryn’s pillows, you will find sealed missives from your respective faction heads. Again I caution you NOT to let factional politics get in the way of the mission.”
Luisila clasps her hands together and bows. “Calistria’s Sacred Luck on your journey. May She guide your hands. If you have any questions, now is the time.”
“You just need to employ some blue sky thinking, Korum. Think outside the box. Share a thought shower with the team.”
“I’m confident Rath will be able synergize with your ‘wow’ factor, and being a hard charger you’ll action it so that everyone’s a winner by close of play.”
Luisila smiles innocently. “Are there any other questions?”
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"I do not enjoy many things like I do putting holes in Apsis agents but I can hold back if absolutely necessary. Zamir sounds interesting anyways. I have only heard his name in whispers like he is some monster. Any of you heard of rakshasa or were-tigers? Sounds like crap." she asks the group with a scoff.
"Well, if there are no other questions.”
Luisila seems pleased as she marches back to the window. "RAY, TOSS ME UP MY KEYS! THE ONES WITH THE ANKYLOSAURUS CHAIN-FOB!"
“ACTUALLY, SCRATCH THAT! JUST HAVE WAMAN COME UP AND LET US OUT.”
She turns and smiles to you in farewell. “If you need supplies, be sure to acquire them before you leave the city. Otherwise, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Waman.”
A young man with a slender build and an appraising eye releases you, before stepping aside to politely to let you pass. "Greetings, Pathfinders."
"I have the map for your travels and I have taken the liberty of marking the best spots to camp along the way."
You notice his dark eyes flicker between your faces and your more prominent items on display, lingering especially on your weapons and any magical items you wear.
"You'll find some tents in with your caravan supplies along with the merchandise you'll be transporting outside."
Looking over the map, you notice the path Waman wants your team to travel is the long way to Niswan.
A journey southeast along the coast would circumvent the jungle and save you at least two days of travel.
"Of course, the Nature Sahib is correct.”
Waman's head bobbles pleasantly from side-to-side. “But the likelihood of a monstrous attack is much higher along the coast than in the jungle.”
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"Oh, I almost forgot - dear Cinnamon's cousin's father's best friend's great-aunt mentioned that this 'Zamir' hooligan is wanted by the Thakur for his activities as a criminal revolutionary. The leader of Jalmeray himself looking for him, they say. We might not be alone on the trail, and I would hate for any of my grandchilldren to be thrown into jail here." She stares over her glasses at the other Pathfinders as she puts away her knitting needles.
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"Be nice to our guide, Angry!" the elderly woman chides, slapping the oread gently on the arm. "He knows the area best - we should trust his judgement." She reaches forward and pinches Waman's cheek with a smile. "It's a pleasure to have you guide us, young man - I'm certain our mission would fail without you."
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"Well, I'm glad someone managed to pick up some useful information earlier," Palo remarks as Sinaryn and 'Granny' share what they've overheard about Zamir. "Sounds like Zamir's currently a pretty popular guy around here then. Let's hope we can get to him before anyone else does."
To the letter left for her - and she assumes Korum and Angritt received similar - all she can do is shake her head. "I'm pretty sure I'm one of the worst people to be playing kickball or stickball or whatever it is but sure, whatever. Should be easy enough to manage."
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Well, that isn't suspicious at all, is it?
"Well, I mean I would have thought that being attacked in the jungle would be more likely but maybe there're more attacks along the coast because critters head down to the sea to uh...try and catch fish or something," Palo says with a casual shrug. "I mean, none of us actually live here or anything. So we should defer to someone who does," she says, nodding at Granny.
The air hangs heavy with moisture, but cooling breezes drift down from the mountains frequently making the warm climate more bearable.
Only foreigners and those of lesser castes live near the monuments where the ancient Arclords of Nex sealed a nameless horror in the vaults beneath Old Padiskar.
Waman smiles and bobble-nods his thanks to Matrialda and Relas. “Nani and the Black Tiger spare me from great shame.”
“I shall not forget your kindness.”
The young porter proudly shows off the caravan’s supplies as you prepare to move out.
He also acknowledges Korum. “Beast Deva sahib also of some help.”
Soon you leave the exotic sights and smells of Padiskar behind and journeying deeper into the green expanse of the jungle. You make camp the first night without incident and return to the trail in the morning.
At the end of the second long day of travel through rough hills and dense vegetation, a flat clearing comes into view. Smoke curls upward from a small fire, where a man is tending a roast on a spit. Three more men are setting out bedrolls and four horses are picketed beside a pile of sacks and bundles nearby. They are camped exactly on the second campsite described in Waman’s itinerary.
They don’t appear to have noticed you yet.
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"While I would prefer the coastline just to be near the water if they are dangerous in these parts...the jungle it is." she agrees on going the long way but also scolds Waman.
"If you are going to give a lady the eyes at least bring her a drink first!" she says angrily but then breaks out in a laugh.
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While her information on the region isn't impressive Sinaryn does know a bit about the history she shares with the group on the road.
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Palo trudges along with the others, frequently pausing to fan herself as beads of sweat roll down her face and drip off of her nose. "This...is much hotter than it is back home," she huffs. "No, it's not even that it's hotter - it's just so damn humid compared to home. I feel like I'm walking around with a damp blanket draped over me!"
She does listen with some interest as Sinaryn shares a little of what she knows about the area's climate and history, though a look of surprise and horror crosses her face when the undine mentions a nameless horror sealed below.
"Whoa whoa whoa, wait. There's a thing sealed under the old part of the city? Just...sealed up and they left it there???" she repeats. "Please tell me those seals are meant to hold for an eternity! Otherwise it'd be just my luck the thing'd pick now to break out and go on a rampage."
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"Um...Waman, do you recognize these guys?" Palo whispers to their guide when they come upon strangers at their planned camping site. "Is it common to meet other people out here in the middle of nowhere like this?"
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Of course! Who in Hades are these guys? Bandits wouldn't take the time to set a camp, so probably not the guys we are supposed to lose the rod to.
Stepping near the front, placing himself between the team and the camp, the paladin inquires, "Kid, any idea who these guys are?" And do we want to share a camp with them? They might get hurt, or worse, compromise the mission entirely.
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It seems Psamtic almost forgets who she is in the heat. Under her full plate, she's just a sweaty mess slowly succumbing to heat exhaustion.
And, conveniently, seemingly forgetting the mission at hand is to lie for a bit.
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"Looks like a common campsite! Let's go make some friends? Company is always nice."
During the first day, Psamtic finds a letter sealed with the Taldan crown in her pack. The paladin can’t recall seeing it there when the group left Padiskar.
Perhaps it was overlooked?
"Kid, any idea who these guys are?"
Waman seems just as confused as the party to find these men in this location. “I beg your pardon, Beast Deva sahib. I do not recognise them.”
The men look up from their tasks and exchange wary glances and a few quiet words with each other at your approach.
जमीरचे Zamirडाकू खरोखर इतके धाडसी असतील का?
The man tending the roast gives you a hard look, before striding out from behind the spit.
His manner is challenging and querying, but not hostile.
तुम्हा सर्वांना हार्दिक शुभेच्छा. आपण आमच्यासारखे व्यापारी आहात?
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Palomia looks at the man and shrugs, unable to understand him. She does, however, slowly hold up her hands to indicate that they're not looking for a fight.
At least they seem willing to ask questions first.
She glances over at her companions.
"Anyone able to speak the local language? I've got a decent ear but I need more than just a day to start picking things up."
Then she looks to their guide.
"Or Waman, maybe you can translate for us?"
The stranger seems oddly put at ease by your apparent incomprehension of his language.
He smiles cautiously and continues in fluent Taldane. “Greetings to you all. You are welcome among us, the jungle can be a perilous place, especially as of late. Are you merchants, like ourselves?”
“We are journeying to Padiskar with cloth and carpets to sell. Please, come and share our fire, if you will. My name is Phalgun."
The other men settle back in and resume their work of setting up their camp. You notice that they are all lightly armed with shortbows and shortswords and wearing chain shirts. A broad willow club and stitched red leather ball lie adjacent to a caravan wheel.
However, they continue to watch your group carefully, as if looking for signs of a threat. Their suspicious eyes frequently returning to Korum, Rath and Relas.