Your recent downtime in Magnimar seemed peaceful, but you've just been delivered a message: your immediate attendance is necessary at Heidmarch Manor for an urgent mission briefing!
Magnimar, known throughout the Inner Sea as the "City of Monuments," is a young and vibrant mercantile city-state. As you make your way towards Heidmarch Manor, it's hard to avoid noticing famous landmarks like the Irespan (a massive, broken bridge dating to ancient Thassilon that dominates the skyline), the Arvensoar (the city's tallest structure and fortress headquarters of its military forces), and the Cenotaph (a ten-story cylindrical tower created as a memorial to the city's founder). It's said that some of the city's monuments are even magical and bless those who show the proper respect!
Heidmarch Manor itself is located in a part of the city called the Alabaster District, which is where the city's most affluent and aristocratic citizens reside. Privately-hired district guards and even the city-watch eye you carefully as you enter it's beautiful and carefully laid-out streets. But they recognise Pathfinders when they see them, and you're not challenged.
When you approach Heidmarch Manor, you see it's far more than simply a large house. The two-story manor is located on the western end of an immense, gated estate! Guards at the gate allow you passage and give directions once they see the messages you've received. Your path to the manor takes you alongside huge, man-made carp ponds (complete with a small rock island in the center!), while in the distance you can see a topiary maze and other buildings.
It's rare for the Heidmarches to receive guests at the manor house itself, but, given the urgency of the situation, an exception has been made. A butler shows you to an elegant lounge with dark, maroon walls, walnut trim, and brocade rugs. Plush velvet and leather couches provide seating. The fireplace, however, is thankfully unlit on a warm summer's day like this one. In one corner, a glass-topped bar boasts an elegant collection of vintage brandies and fine elven wines. The butler says that the lady of the house will be with you directly.
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Hrarsk, a very smiley half-orc, is clearly enjoying himself. He is sitting on the couch with his hands behind his head, with his legs stretched out precariously over the fancy table in front of him.
When the butler comes in, he stands up and shakes his hand vigorously. "Okay, thanks for telling us!" Then he sits back down on the couch and tries to relax again.
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Miklos takes in the richly appointed room. He nods his head at the butler in acknowledgement.
Thank you, my good man. We will wait as long a your mistress requires us.. he replies. He makes sure his outfit has no rips or stains and double checks to make sure his hair is back in a tight tail. His gear sits neatly piled near the door. Tassles hanging from his wickedly curved blade indicate a man of Taldan stock.
I'm Miklos...any I dea why we are here?
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I'm Miklos...any I dea why we are here?
"Because you were summoned." responds a voice from the entry, which is soon followed by a series of heavy footfalls as an imposing figure in full-plate armor enters the room. The man's hair is dark and his skin is bronzed by sunlight and pocked by battles past. Across his chest and side hangs a tattered sash, upon it a motif that, though torn, still manages to convey the holy symbol of the Dawnflower. Slung upon his back are a bow, a quiver, and a great axe, the latter of which is clearly made of adamantine.
Now, fully within the room, he adds, "As was I." The newcomer quickly surveys the room. Upon spying the earlier speaker appears to be of Taldan stalk, he turns instead to address the half-orc with whom he concludes he must have much more in common.
"Such is the treatment that I have come to expect during my time in the Society." he laments. "A far cry from the kind of hospitality so readily extended within my homeland. But, more commonplace, I suppose among those who claim to be 'civilized'." Though he speaks to half-orc, the target of the man's comments is clearly the well-kept man with the curved blade.
"I am Jovan Stonebriar," he then says by way of curt introduction. "Pathfinder."
A beautiful, middle-aged woman with a slightly aristocratic bearing enters the lounge. Her long, dark hair is strikingly crowned by a silver diadem, and her practical but exquisitely-made clothing shows she has both money and sense. This must be Sheila Heidmarch, Venture-Captain of the Magnimar Pathfinder Lodge. She looks around the room and nods at each of you as she says your names.
“Hrarsk, Miklos, Jovan, thank you for coming. We may be joined by others soon, and I’ll trust you to fill them in. I’ve asked you to come on such short notice because I am faced with a dire situation and require your assistance. This lodge has been receiving strange messages sent from a friend of the Pathfinder Society. These communications have come in the form of a whispering wind spell, and those who’ve received the messages are certain they are sent by the Thassilonian scholar Estani Sulemi, who has been missing for three weeks.”
“Many of the messages are cryptic and frantic, but we believe he’s being held in a warehouse in the Ordellia District of Magnimar. Estani is a specialist in Thassilonian lore, and is an asset to the Society as a whole and this lodge in particular. I'm sure you know Varisia is a hotbed of interest for research into the remnants of ancient Thassilon and its overloads, the legendary Runelords.”
Heidmarch takes a sheet of paper from a leather folder and passes it around. “These are the messages the lodge received.”
Street at the docks. It’s dark inside and
the windows are greased to restrict the view.
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I hope this message isn’t for nothing. They plan
to sacrifice me to a... No! I was just... please,
no! Not again! Let me get my...
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They speak of me being consumed, and soon.
Please, if you’re hearing this, you have to help
me! Time is running out!
“I would normally go to the authorities, but I fear they may be too clumsy to bring Estani back in one piece. I’m entrusting the matter to you. If you have any questions, please ask them now.”
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"Did this, Estani, have any known enemies?" Jovan inquires. "Was there some particular area of research regarding the Runelords that he was focused upon? Perhaps, he came across some bit of information he was not meant to learn."
The fighter pauses for a moment, his look one of grim determination. "Were you able to narrow down in just which warehouse he is being held? If so, have you any word on who may own it?"
"Those are good questions, Jovan."
"I've had one of the Society's specialists, a man named Quinn, sniffing around since it became clear that Estani was missing. He reports that Estani had some scholarly rivals over his research into the original purposes for some of the Thassilonian monuments that now dot Varisia. For example, he often clashed in print with another sage, a reputed crackpot now in Sandpoint named Brodert Quink. But Estani is an old friend of mine, and I can tell you that none of his academic foes have ever expressed the type of personal hatred or jealousy necessary to motivate a kidnapping. I've had contact with many of them over the years, and they're just not the type."
"I myself originally suspected that Estani might have been snatched by a street gang for ransom, since his home was in pristine condition, but no demands have come in. The messages he sent about 'sacrifice' and being 'consumed' are worrisome indeed, and lead me to suspect there may be an occult angle to this business."
"As for the warehouse, my sources indicate there's only one building off Rivermark Street. We haven't had time to navigate the city's notorious bureaucracy to find who owns it, but I can tell you that most of the dockside warehouses in the area are in poor repair but still in use given their strategic location. Whether you choose stealth or shock, please get Estani out safely. As far as I'm concerned, you can deal with his abductors however you see fit."
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Hmm...so no known enemies...and nothing to indicate who is behind this. I wish we had someone who had more stealthy skills with us...my brother knows an elf that would be perfect for this...but he's on a mission. Well, whenever the Heidmarches call for assistance, we will come running. We will do our best, Madam....
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Jovan shakes his head when Heidmarch makes mention of the occult. "I have had my fill of wayward cults and kidnappers." notes the fighter recalling earlier adventures he endured in one of Taldor's hated cities.
Thus, when the Taldan man has the audacity to speak and yet offer nothing that the Qadiran considers to be of substance, Jovan finds himself gritting his teeth. Growing impatient, he urges, "If we must deal with more city vermin, then let us do so quickly."
Sheila Heidmarch raises an eyebrow at the mention of matters "more pressing" than her urgent summons, but she knows that now is not the time for argument or rebuke. "Than you for coming, Narciso. The gist of the matter is that a historian named Estani Sulemi has been kidnapped and is being held captive in Ordellia. Your companions can share additional details during your journey there." She turns and nods at the Hrarsk, Jovan, and Miklos. "Gentlemen, unless there are any further questions, I urge you to be on your way."
It’s a long walk, almost three miles, from the Alabaster District at one end of Magnimar, through the bulk of the city, and across the bridges that span the Yondabakari River to reach Ordellia District on the other side. Sweat pours through your clothes from walking in armor on a hot summer’s day. Although Magnimar is a reasonably cosmopolitan city, you notice a much higher percentage of non-humans on the streets once you get to Ordellia. As you turn on the main road toward the docks, you pass by a sprawling two-story building flying the flags of several different nations of the Inner Sea. Across the street from it, you can hear ribald political commentary about the Lord-Mayor coming from a large, open-air playhouse.
When you reach the docks, you see that it seems like a thriving area, with multiple ships loading and off-loading cargo. Sailors and longshoremen are hard at work. Rivermark Street, however, leads to a section of the docks that seem older and more decrepit. Although there are still people around, it’s a quieter and more sedate area, and you guess this might be where long-term storage warehouses are leased.
The only warehouse on Rivermark Street is old, covered in peeling blue paint, and has patches of green moss clinging to its warped boards. The eastern side of the two-story warehouse abuts the river, though there’s a set of doors alongside an alleyway on that side. Large cargo doors are on the building's northern and western sides. Rusty padlocks dangle from thick chains looped through the doors' handles.
Hrarsk, you pull on the padlock securing the chains loops around the handles of the northwestern set of doors. The padlock is quite rusty, and you figure it would be a difficult lock to pick. With a little bit of patience, you suspect you could just smash the lock or chains with the falchion you carry--but it'll be loud. The doors themselves seem to be made of pretty solid wood, and although you could eventually hack through, they're not the sort of flimsy barrier you could just put a shoulder to.
As the rest of you look around, you notice there are windows in the warehouse. However, they're set about ten feet off the ground and you can't see anything through them--it looks like maybe they've been greased or covered in oiled parchment.
At the far end of Rivermark Street, a patrol of Hellknights marches past, but they seem to have a destination in mind and don't even look in your direction.
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How good are you at climbing? We could enter through one or two windows. May be a little quieter.
In response, Jovan thumps a hefty, gloved gauntlet against the breastplate of his full-plate armor, emitting a solid *thunk*.
"If you wish to scout ahead and can do so without detection, then do so." he says over his shoulder as he bends down to examine the lock. "Otherwise, my adamantine axe should make short work of this lock. A single strike should do it. The effort may alert any within, but if you prepared to rush forward when the lock shatters, then perhaps we can still move swiftly enough to take them off guard."
Like a machete through a vine, Jovan's adamantine axe cuts through the padlock. The chains fall to the ground with a clatter. In perfect unison, Hrarsk pushes on the doors.
But although the half-orc gives a powerful shove, the doors don't open--they've been barred from the inside!
While Narciso keeps a lookout for busybodies, Jovan levels his axe at the door. With one mighty swing he cleaves the ostensibly stout door in twain, spraying jagged chunks of wood everywhere!
Through the doorway, you all see specks of dust floating in the air where thin shafts of light illuminate the interior. Clusters of stacked crates lie across the floor, and a musky smell mingles with odors of mildew and spoiled meat. A loft stretches all along the southern wall about fifteen feet above the ground, and there are stairs to your right just past the doorway. There doesn’t seem to be anyone in here.
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Jovan heads into the dimly lit warehouse with his axe at the ready.
The fighter moves directly toward the first creature he perceives.
Realizing that the party's entry would have alerted anyone inside, he cries out into the darkness, "Estani! Estani Sulemi! If you are here, let us know! We are Pathfinders and we are here to help!"
The man looks back over his shoulder towards his allies, "Any of you have some source of light?"
As Jovan moves into the warehouse, there's movement on the loft. A seven-foot-tall, dark-furred humanoid with milky white eyes rises up from its hiding place behind the railing. With a bellow of triumph, it hurls a javelin down at the fighter's head!
But the javelin instead scrapes harmlessly off of Jovan's armor.
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Hrarsk hobbles into the room to cast light on a crate. "Sure, I've got a light spell! Never figured out what it does, but people seem to find it useful... oh, looks like Narciso already has it covered with that stick thing."
As he gets stuck at the bottom of the staircase, he casts a different spell instead.
Narciso's sunrod bathes the room in a harsh, alchemical brightness, while Hrarsk invokes the power of life itself to aid his allies.
Initiative Order: Round 2
Narciso (20)
Miklos (14)
Jovan (11)
Hrarsk (9)
Herr Magt Jaeger (7)
Enemy # 1 (5)