Venture-Captain Roderus has long been one of the most reliable and steadfast allies of the Pathfinder Society in the nation of Katapesh, but the aging human has decided that it is time to retire from his long-held position. Roderus's retirement party draws in Pathfinders from across Golarion, but there are some who see his retirement as an opportunity to advance personal goals that go against the Pathfinder Society's interests. Amid the turmoil of a party turned crime scene, the PCs must uncover the true threat to the Society's stability in Katapesh—and perhaps make an unexpected new ally along the way.
Contents in Treason's Chains also contribute directly to the ongoing storyline of the Liberty's Edge faction.
Written by Adam Meyers.
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"Katapesh." Squinting his amber eyes against the hot breeze, the bright sun, and the brilliant, cloudless blue sky, Santiago del Fuego looks around the crowded port city along the arid coast of the Obari Ocean. "A nation of trade, selling all conceivable goods, no matter how mundane or bizarre. Traders converge on the nation's bazaars from around the world, even from other planes. Pesh and slaves, two of its major exports."
He rubs a dextrous hand through his long, dark red hair, trying to recall what he knows about the place and its people.
Never thought I'd get an invitation to a Venture-Captain's retirement party. Wonder what Roderus plans to do? Gardening? Painting? Not bloody likely. He considers who else might have been invited. An eclectic group of Pathfinders, no doubt.
Passers-by look at the slender stranger. His ruddy complexion suggests an outlander who doesn't know better than to stay too long under the blazing sun. The mithral armor gleaming beneath his robes, the mithral scimitar at his hip, and his intimidating glare, however, disincline them from openly expressing their disapproval.
The Winding Road Inn sits on the outskirts of the great city of Katapesh, a modest and unassuming waystation for those entering or exiting the great city. While the exterior architecture is classical Katapesh style, matching the other neighboring structures, the interior is designed and styled to be much more reminiscent of an inn that one might visit in Varisia, Taldor, or Absalom.
While the inn itself is open to travelers of all stripes, its true function - a lodge for agents of the Pathfinder Society - is not as widely known. Though just one of five Pathfinder lodges within the city itself, the Winding Road Lodge has seen its fair share of agents come and go over the years, deployed on tasks great and small by the lodge's Venture Captain - Roderus. While you may or may not have personally met Roderus yourself his reputation as a fair and sensible venture captain has preceded him and the recent successes of his Pathfinder agents have granted him increased influence in both Katapesh and Absalom.
But all good things must come to an end and word has spread that having become more and more aware of his advancing age, Venture Captain Roderus is set to retire from active duty with the Pathfinder Society. Still, such a seasoned leader can't be allowed to retire without...a retirement party! Pathfinder agents near and far have been invited to the party - including all of you. Whether you're actually here with the hopes of enjoying the party or simply taking in the shenanigans of your fellow agents or something else, each of you now find yourselves in the common room of the Winding Road Inn, having traveled from all manner of places to be here.
It seems, however, that you've arrived a bit early - there don't seem to be that many people here yet. A rather dour-looking halfling stands behind the bar while a short...wait. Whoa. Hold on just a minute here!
Is that a goblin?
Yes, yes it is - they've got a goblin scurrying about, balancing a drink tray atop his head as he serves the handful of patrons and other party guests that have already arrived. Over in one corner of the common room, near the fire, a trio of red-headed half-elves - one male, two female - work to set up a makeshift stage. And a quiet woman with dark hair and dressed in red-and-blue seems to be working on stringing up paper lanterns.
Looks like they're still getting set up. No matter. That gives you all time to take a load off for a few minutes, grab a drink, and perhaps even make idle chitchat with some of the folks here. Or not.
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Santiago motions at the goblin to come over. "Say, brother, can you bring me a gin and tonic? Lime, lemon, it makes no difference to me."
"Thanks." He takes the drink and slips the goblin a gold piece for his trouble.
"The half-elf trio. They any good? Santiago asks, gazing at the performers with an appreciative eye.
He points at his own long, red locks with a wink and a disarming grin, resembling a smiley face on a keg of gunpowder. "Never seen so many gingers under one roof. The only one of us missing, I guess, is Eliza Petulengro. If she's here, all eyes will be on her."
With his elbow, he nudges the goblin gently in the ribs, not enough to spill the rest of the cocktails, but enough to let him in on the private joke.
"I think I'll go over and introduce myself to the entertainment. Maybe they need someone on keyboards."
I wouldn't even mind it, if they put me closest to the fire. Learning you've a grandpappy from the plane of fire ought to have some perks, right?
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There is the sound of a camel coming to a sudden stop outside, followed by thump.
A dust-covered young woman with a keffiyeh covering her head, and mouth and a huge unwieldy maul slung on her back appears in the doorway. She stands there a minute as if taking the place in. She is a dark silhouette against the desert sun's glare. The wind whistles ominously behind her.
"Hey kid." she says to the goblin. "Take care of my horse." She flips the goblin a silver coin with a string threaded though a hole in it that leads back to the woman's hand. After it lands she snaps it back to her hand.
"You can't miss him. He's a hunchback. Check his pads while you're at it. I had to apply the emergency breaks." she says pointing to the bludgeon on her back.
"Kid's as ugly as a goblin."
She moseys up to the bar, and sits down very, very, slowly as if in great posterior distress next to the ifrit. After she's settled she slowly takes off her boots, and empties them of about 5 pounds, while she stretches and wiggles her toes in relief.
"I'm Lauranna. What's your name, pardner?"
Outside, sits the dazed "horse" with a growing lump on its head.
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A halfling in simple traveling clothes enters the inn, shaking the dust off his cloaks. He sets down his long polearm and looks down at his bare, hairy feet. Bloody sand! Give me cool wet sod any day!
"Barkee - ! Goblins!" the halfling reaches for his polearm; there's the faintest whiff of brimstone for a moment before he takes a deep breath and lowers his weapon again. It's working here? What in Hell's name is going on?
Stamping his feet to loosen the accumulated sand and dust, the halfling finally approaches the bar. "Jug of luglurch, and a water bath for me feet if y' please, sir" he says to the barkeep. Spotting the other patrons, he bows. "Sir Lee, Knight of Taldor, at your service. Most folks call me 'Lucky', and that suits me fine if we don't need to be all formal. Looks like a title gets y' invited to all the best parties, eh mates?"
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A tall slender dude in a dark green cloak, with bow sling over his shoulder, walks in the bar and observes. He heads to the bar and orders an ale...seeing the half-Elvish trio in the corner, he heads their way. He pulls back his cloak, long flowing dark hair and a face with sharp Elven features...
The Elf bows to the trio. ”Wymarc, at your service. Sorry, first time in Katapesh, and I have a question...I’ve seen more than a few half-Elves since my arrival but, for all I can tell, I’m the only Elf in all of Katapesh...can you tell me why this is so?”
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"It's cuz you, like, need to open your third eye, man," drawls a prone figure from a nearby bench. He sits up and slips on a pair of spectacles before running his fingers through his dark tangled hair. "Like, when you think about it, aren't we all elves? And, like, we're all humans, and dwarves, and frogs, and trees, man. All bound together as one cosmic mind. But we can't handle the truth, so we pretend you're an elf and I'm a frog because it's easier to live a lie. You gotta stand up for yourself, man! Wake up and fight the system!" The faint aroma of yesterday's ale and pungent spices hangs on his breath as he speaks more and more animatedly, his more energetic movements causing him to sway slightly.
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"Sir Lee, Knight of Taldor, at your service. Most folks call me 'Lucky', and that suits me fine if we don't need to be all formal. Looks like a title gets y' invited to all the best parties, eh mates?"
"Please to meet--you." **sniff**
She turns to the server. "I'll have whatever he's not to eating."[/b]
"It's cuz you, like, need to open your third eye, man," drawls a prone figure from a nearby bench. He sits up and slips on a pair of spectacles before running his fingers through his dark tangled hair. "Like, when you think about it, aren't we all elves? And, like, we're all humans, and dwarves, and frogs, and trees, man. All bound together as one cosmic mind. But we can't handle the truth, so we pretend you're an elf and I'm a frog because it's easier to live a lie. You gotta stand up for yourself, man! Wake up and fight the system!" The faint aroma of yesterday's ale and pungent spices hangs on his breath as he speaks more and more animatedly, his more energetic movements causing him to sway slightly.
"That's deep. Take it from me, I'm a theologian."
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Wymarc arches an eyebrow at the formerly prone man on the bench. "I'm 115 years old...I've got sharp pointy ears and very little body hair other than that atop my head...I'm pretty sure I'm an Elf...and since you lack those features, I'm pretty sure you're not." He ponders for a moment. "Definitely a human...and since the lovely lady there's a theologian, I guess you are perhaps a philosopher? Or cultist? Or psychic?"
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"Say, friends, you need a man on keys for your session?" Santiago asks the half-elf performers. "I can dance, too, but I'd rather play in the band."
"Santiago del Fuego." Santiago offers his hand and greets the trio and the elf who slinks up beside them. "Didn't get your names..."
Overhearing the topic of discussion nearby, the ifrit raises an eyebrow at the guy wearing the spectacles. Let me guess. Cheech? No, Chong was the one with glasses.
"Body hair, hmm." Santiago ponders the direction of the conversation. "I'm not opposed to a little manscaping." He winks at the cleric. "As a courtesy to the fairer sex, of course."
I hear you in need of another.
Santiago motions at the goblin to come over. "Say, brother, can you bring me a gin and tonic? Lime, lemon, it makes no difference to me."
The little goblin's eyes go wide as he cranes his head to look up and up and up at the tall red-haired man - in fact, he cranes it so far back that he almost loses the entire drink tray. Luckily he manages to catch hold of it before it slides off his head, though a little does slosh out of the mugs and onto the floor.
"Zig! I hired you to water the customers, not bath 'em or drown 'em!" the halfling calls out from behind the bar.
"Eep! Sorry, sorry!" the little goblin calls out. With a better grip on the tray he nods up at Santiago and then adds, "He want gin and tonic! Lemon, lime, surprise him!"
The halfling gets busy with the drink order and after a few moments the goblin returns with it. Hmm. Looks like the bartender decided to go with the lemon - not a bad choice.
"Thanks." He takes the drink and slips the goblin a gold piece for his trouble.
"The half-elf trio. They any good? Santiago asks, gazing at the performers with an appreciative eye.
He points at his own long, red locks with a wink and a disarming grin, resembling a smiley face on a keg of gunpowder. "Never seen so many gingers under one roof. The only one of us missing, I guess, is Eliza Petulengro. If she's here, all eyes will be on her."
With his elbow, he nudges the goblin gently in the ribs, not enough to spill the rest of the cocktails, but enough to let him in on the private joke.
"Um...I not sure," the goblin replies, clearly not getting Santiago's joke. "This my first shift at first real job!" Zig puffs his chest out proudly; the more you speak with him the more it becomes apparent that Zig must be young, even for a goblin - probably an adolescent at most. "They here to play for the party. Hope they good, be nice to have nice music while working."
"I think I'll go over and introduce myself to the entertainment. Maybe they need someone on keyboards."
"Key...boards? How you play with keys stuck in boards?"
Zig's expression is puzzled, so much so that you're not sure you want to try and guess what he's picturing in his head. "If you play key-boards with band, I wanna watch...if that okay with Mister Dougle," he remarks, glancing over at the halfling as he does. "Maybe if I work hard and get all work done! Yeah! I go work hard so I can watch key-boards playing!"
With that, Zig scurries off to attend to the next customer.
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"Hey kid." she says to the goblin. "Take care of my horse." She flips the goblin a silver coin with a string threaded though a hole in it that leads back to the woman's hand. After it lands she snaps it back to her hand.
"You can't miss him. He's a hunchback. Check his pads while you're at it. I had to apply the emergency breaks." she says pointing to the bludgeon on her back.
"Kid's as ugly as a goblin."
Having turned his attention away from the tall ifrit Zig turns toward the door as a young woman carrying a big stick rolls up and ambles into the inn.
"Horse? Um..."
Zig looks a little apprehensive but then screws his face with determination.
"I help! Horses no p-problem for Zig. Zig best horse-putter-upper ever lived!"
He heads towards the door but skids to a stop as the woman flips him a silver coin. He scrambles to catch it...but it barely touches his palm before it's suddenly snapped back into her hand. And even though he seems more good-natured and civilized than most, Zig is still a goblin and he looks at the mysterious woman with wide eyes.
"Are...are you a wizard???"
Zig then claps his hands over his mouth. "Oh, I sorry! Not mean offend! I help, I take care of horse right now!"
Then he darts past Lauranna and out the door before his mouth can get him into any further trouble.
A halfling in simple traveling clothes enters the inn, shaking the dust off his cloaks. He sets down his long polearm and looks down at his bare, hairy feet. Bloody sand! Give me cool wet sod any day!
"Barkee - ! Goblins!" the halfling reaches for his polearm; there's the faintest whiff of brimstone for a moment before he takes a deep breath and lowers his weapon again. It's working here? What in Hell's name is going on?
As Sir Lee steps into the inn he's nearly bowled over as a little goblin comes darting out; the little goblin doesn't stop but calls back over his shoulder, "I sorry! I take care of horse but then get you drinks, okay?"
If Sir Lee cares to watch it does look like the little goblin is wearing a uniform of sorts. He carefully approaches the only horse currently parked outside...which is actually a camel.
"Nice horsey...nice horsey...got nice digs for pets and critters, lots of yummy hay or meat or whatever horseys eat..."
Of course the outcome of this little comedy will have to remain a mystery for now - Sir Lee has introductions to make and a drink to order!
”Wymarc, at your service. Sorry, first time in Katapesh, and I have a question...I’ve seen more than a few half-Elves since my arrival but, for all I can tell, I’m the only Elf in all of Katapesh...can you tell me why this is so?”
Though Santiago had been making his way in the general direction of the stage - or had at least been planning to - he's beaten to the punch by a rather tall, quiet drink of water that enters the inn and quickly makes a beeline for the stage where the half-elves are setting up.
All three look up at the sound of his approach, their expressions friendly and curious. There's a distinct family resemblance here, making the trio likely siblings or at least close cousins and this is further evidence by the amused and perplexed look all three share as Wymarc introduces himself and poses a rather unusual question.
"It's cuz you, like, need to open your third eye, man," drawls a prone figure from a nearby bench. He sits up and slips on a pair of spectacles before running his fingers through his dark tangled hair. "Like, when you think about it, aren't we all elves? And, like, we're all humans, and dwarves, and frogs, and trees, man. All bound together as one cosmic mind. But we can't handle the truth, so we pretend you're an elf and I'm a frog because it's easier to live a lie. You gotta stand up for yourself, man! Wake up and fight the system!" The faint aroma of yesterday's ale and pungent spices hangs on his breath as he speaks more and more animatedly, his more energetic movements causing him to sway slightly.
All three of the half-elves burst into laughter at this and one the two women nods in agreement, her lips curving into an easy and teasing grin.
"What that guy said! Today I'm a half-elf but tomorrow...tomorrow is another day, full of new possibilities! Maybe tomorrow I'll be a cat or a human or a handsome king's pillow."
She sticks out her hand. "Name's Kaba. This is my sister Kora and our brother, Kitt," the half-elf explains, gesturing to the other two. "And I'm sorry, couldn't help but tease a little. Not sure I've got any good answers to your question for real, but I'd say that most elves probably have better places to be than here!"
"That ain't it, sis. Well, maybe it is, kinda," Kitt replies as he sets down a small hammer and stands, stretching out the kinks in his back. "Elves might have better places to be now but they travel all over, right? Live for centuries and centuries. Plenty of time to 'see the sights' in the places they visit, ifyaknowwhatImean," he winks at Wymarc and Joe and anyone else observing the conversation.
"Then most of 'em just up and move on, right? But they leave a little somethin' behind for generations to come 'cause their kids and their grandkids and their grandkids' grandkids all grow up, grow old, and die in the same town or city or burg or whatever."
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"Are...are you a wizard???"
Zig then claps his hands over his mouth. "Oh, I sorry! Not mean offend! I help, I take care of horse right now!"
Then he darts past Lauranna and out the door before his mouth can get him into any further trouble.
Lauranna points her thumb over her shoulder at the poor ugly child. "Kids. Back in seminary we were often told that any sufficiently advanced religious doctrine is indistinguishable from magic." she says and smiles.
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"That's deep. Take it from me, I'm a theologian."
"Hey, just what we need, a priestess!" calls the third of the half-elf trio, Kora. "What path do you walk? Would you be willing to give us a blessing before our performance later? We'll be happy to pay!"
"I'm 115 years old...I've got sharp pointy ears and very little body hair other than that atop my head...I'm pretty sure I'm an Elf...and since you lack those features, I'm pretty sure you're not."
Even though this statement is clearly directed at the strange and smelly vagrant lying on the bench, Kora winces and makes a face.
"Yikes, didn't need to know about the body hair thing..."
"Say, friends, you need a man on keys for your session?" Santiago asks the half-elf performers. "I can dance, too, but I'd rather play in the band."
"Santiago del Fuego." Santiago offers his hand and greets the trio and the elf who slinks up beside them. "Didn't get your names..."
"Hey, friend! Always nice to meet a fellow musician," Kitt responds, giving Santiago's hand a hearty shake. "In case you didn't hear us the first time, it's Kitt, Kaba, and Kora, in no particular order. Sure you guessed it by now but we're a real-deal band. Me, I'm the singer."
The half-elf does a little shimmy.
~I love to sing-a
About the moon-a and the June-a and the spring-a~
He stops and grins. "Kaba plays the flute and Kora plays the lute. You said you play keys? I think we could probably swing that. Not easy to find a good talent on the keys. Maybe we can have a quick jam session once we finish getting the stage set up."
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"Maybe tomorrow I'll be a cat or a human or a handsome king's pillow.""
"You get it." the man smiles happily as he stands. "It's because you're an artist. Artists just understand these things better, you know? It's because they don't get any validation from The Man, so they have to know how many turtles they carry inside them. Respect."
"Elves might have better places to be now but they travel all over, right? Live for centuries and centuries."
"Time is just a construct, man. Who's to say we don't all live forever? Bet it's those shadow ruler people from Thuvia - they convince everyone that they're dying, and send their undercover spies to knock off people who might rise up and question their tyranny." He raises a fist in anger. "And what do they get out of it? That's right! Their 'elixir of youth' is nothing more than a scam! Paying off a mob boss to not have your head caved in and your fish left out to dry!"
I hear you in need of another.
At this, the dour-looking halfling looks up and over in the direction of the young woman who'd just spoken up.
"Another what? Another helping hand around here? You're darn tootin' I am! No, no, not with the set-up right now but during the party itself. Do you have any idea how much work it takes to pull off a proper birthday party? Eh? Eh??"
He sighs as he finishes up Sir Lee's drink and slides it down the bar to him.
"Kids these days, they don't appreciate how much hard work goes into anything, always actin' like folks can just...magic up anything and everything, nice and neat."
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"A birthday party?" Lucky asks as he sips his salty beer. "My invite said retirement party. I am in the right place, aren't I? This is Venture-Captain Roderus' do? Or did he decide to retire on his birthday? That would make sense I suppose."
Lucky watches the band set up with interest.
What strange turns a pathfinder's career takes. From fighting goblins to being served drinks by one!
He whispers to the barkeep: "Dougle, mate? How'd you end up with a goblin pot-boy? They're vicious little sods, goblins. Their overgrown hobgoblin cousins did for my clan back in Isger. You know what you've let yourself in for here?"
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Wymarc smiles as he reaches out and shakes Kaba's hand and gives a friendly nod to Kitt as well. He then bows to all three, saying, "Wymarc, at your service..."
The Elf arches an eyebrow at Kora's remark and grins. "Being half-elf, I would've guessed this to be no secret to you...but perhaps Elves we're I'm from are different, and the ones near here are covered with hair from head to toe..." He turns to the dude on the bench, continuing, "...but let me ask the philosopher. Is hair just a construct as well? We all have hair...we all have no hair...am I getting it?"
I hear you in need of another.At this, the dour-looking halfling looks up and over in the direction of the young woman who'd just spoken up.
"Another what? Another helping hand around here? You're darn tootin' I am! No, no, not with the set-up right now but during the party itself. Do you have any idea how much work it takes to pull off a proper birthday party? Eh? Eh??"
He sighs as he finishes up Sir Lee's drink and slides it down the bar to him.
"Kids these days, they don't appreciate how much hard work goes into anything, always actin' like folks can just...magic up anything and everything, nice and neat."
You right on.
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"A birthday party?" Lucky asks as he sips his salty beer. "My invite said retirement party. I am in the right place, aren't I? This is Venture-Captain Roderus' do? Or did he decide to retire on his birthday? That would make sense I suppose."
Is that what all the piñatas are for--for all the birthday candy?" Lauranna says, while her hand reaches reflexively for her giant cudgel.
...a quiet woman with dark hair and dressed in red-and-blue seems to be working on stringing up paper lanterns....
"Dougle, mate? How'd you end up with a goblin pot-boy? They're vicious little sods, goblins. Their overgrown hobgoblin cousins did for my clan back in Isger. You know what you've let yourself in for here?"
In a Society Lodge House? With children? That's impossible! I mean maybe if this were a whole other edition, or dimension, or whatever the proper mathematical term for it is, but I mean really?"
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The Elf arches an eyebrow at Kora's remark and grins. "Being half-elf, I would've guessed this to be no secret to you...but perhaps Elves we're I'm from are different, and the ones near here are covered with hair from head to toe..." He turns to the dude on the bench, continuing, "...but let me ask the philosopher. Is hair just a construct as well? ...."
"Well, back in the 4680's and 90's it certainly was. Though if it were a true golem, I'm not exactly certain what spells would be effective against it."
"A birthday party?" Lucky asks as he sips his salty beer. "My invite said retirement party. I am in the right place, aren't I? This is Venture-Captain Roderus' do? Or did he decide to retire on his birthday? That would make sense I suppose."
Lucky watches the band set up with interest.
What strange turns a pathfinder's career takes. From fighting goblins to being served drinks by one!
He whispers to the barkeep: "Dougle, mate? How'd you end up with a goblin pot-boy? They're vicious little sods, goblins. Their overgrown hobgoblin cousins did for my clan back in Isger. You know what you've let yourself in for here?"
Dougle throws up his hands, clearly exasperated.
"See?? I'm busier than a one-armed paperhanger! So busy I can't even remember what the heck kind of party we're throwing, apparently! YES, it's a retirement party, I meant to say retirement and not birthday. If you're here for a retirement party then you're in the right place. And if not, I don't know what to tell you," he huffs.
But when Lucky leans in closer to ask about Zig, the halfling does seem to calm down somewhat. He looks like he's going to simply whisper back...but then sighs as Lauranna spews water all over the place. "Too damn early in the day for this..."
"Well, y'see...the city's a melting pot for all sorts, right? There's actually some goblins living here that...ain't all that bad. For goblins," he explains. "And I guess some things are the same across all types of folks. Ol' Zig's been begging for a job here for ages; seems to look up to you Pathfinder folk or something. Been giving him the brush-off but today I finally had to give in. I needed the help and I gotta admit, he's got plenty of determination...for a goblin."
Then, Dougle chuckles as he pads over and opens a nearby window.
"Doesn't mean I'm not going to put him through his paces like I'd do with anyone else, though."
He sticks his head out the window and bellows, "ZIG! GOT A MESS FOR YOU TO CLEAN IF YOU'RE DONE PLAYING AROUND WITH THE GUEST'S TRANSPORTATION!"
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Wymarc smiles as he reaches out and shakes Kaba's hand and gives a friendly nod to Kitt as well. He then bows to all three, saying, "Wymarc, at your service..."
The Elf arches an eyebrow at Kora's remark and grins. "Being half-elf, I would've guessed this to be no secret to you...but perhaps Elves we're I'm from are different, and the ones near here are covered with hair from head to toe..." He turns to the dude on the bench, continuing, "...but let me ask the philosopher. Is hair just a construct as well? We all have hair...we all have no hair...am I getting it?"
"Dang, the last thing I thought we'd be doing when we signed up for this gig was having a philosophical discussion about hair!" Kitt laughs. "It's all good, though. Not really our normal routine - that's a whole different story and you'll all hear about it pretty soon - but good musicians have to be flexible, right? I know just the song for this!"
He glances at his sisters; Kaba grins back while Kora groans and rolls her eyes.
"Kitt, you seriously want to do that song tonight? Really?" Kora asks, half-exasperated and half-resigned.
"Yep," Kitt replies, his smile a mile wide. "I think we've got an audience here that'll appreciate it. And...now that I know how much you love that song I just have to sing it. What are big brothers for?"
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Though most of you are having a pretty good time just hanging out and shooting the breeze with the workers, performers, and other guests, it's interrupted as an older man with white hair and dressed in clothes more suited to an expedition than a city comes striding into the common room. A few of the other guests offer tipped mugs and cheers, to which he responds with a chuckle.
"Now, now, you'll all get to make plenty of fuss over me later! I still say I'm not worth the hassle but my arm has been twisted, so here we are. That said, I know you folks," he nods at Dougle, the half-elf trio, and the quiet woman, "have been putting in a lot of work and there's still more to do - or so Dougle's been saying."
A few laughs can be heard as Dougle simply sighs and shakes his head.
"I'm thorough. If you're going to do a thing, do it right!"
"Quite right," the old man - who has to be Venture Captain Roderus - agrees. "And to do that, you need some extra help."
Roderus scans the crowd and each of the assembled Pathfinders in turn before nodding. "You, you, you with the cudgel, you, you over there in the corner, and you lying on the bench, please come with me," he calls out, pointing at Lirianne, Lee, Lauranna, Santiago, Wymarc, and Joe. He then turns and strides out of the room, beckoning you to follow.
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Assuming that you follow Roderus, the six of you eventually find yourselves in a comfortably-furnished meeting room with enough chairs for everyone to have a seat if they choose. Once everyone has filed inside the venture captain closes the door and sinks into a well-worn chair at the head of the table.
"Ahhh," he winces slightly. "What a relief to see you. As I'm sure you've guessed, 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. You see, 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?"
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Phlegos Dulm runs a shop that specializes in poisons and potions, and he has some sway with the city market and the city’s masked rulers, the Pactmasters.
Many of Phlegos Dulm’s enemies have turned up dead from poisoning - too many for it to be mere coincidence.
Wulessa Yuul has always dealt with information, 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.
Word on the street is that Wulessa Yuul can’t find any merchants to deal with her. No business in Katapesh survives long without connections in the marketplace, even a Pathfinder lodge. Someone is turning the market against her, which in Katapesh means whoever’s responsible is either very powerful or very generous with bribes.
Phlegos Dulm has been getting a lot of outside 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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"Are you bloody serious mate? A poisoner as a Venture-Captain? Well I know who I don't want to get the job when you retire, Captain Roderus. Unless you're about to tell me that V-C Yuul is a necromancer with a tame ghoul-pack in their basement; in which case, maybe hold off on retiring until we clear house, eh?"
Lucky scoffs, and shifts uncomfortably in his chair, checking his smaller weapons whilst his gaze returns frequently to his polearm.
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Assuming that you follow Roderus, the six of you eventually find yourselves in a comfortably-furnished meeting room with enough chairs for everyone to have a seat if they choose. Once everyone has filed inside the venture captain closes the door and sinks into a well-worn chair at the head of the table.
"Ahhh," he winces slightly. "What a relief to see you. As I'm sure you've guessed, 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...."
But I wanted to break the piñatas!"
"Aw, couldn't we just anesthetize Yuul (I hear she's real a dope anyhow), and put her in a closet until the party's over." Lauranna says and nods her head toward the haft of her earthbreaker as she does so. "I mean at least then you wouldn't have to worry during your um- re-birthday celebration? Birth-tirement? The party."
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”So, it’s, like, you got this dude Phlegos on the one side. And he’s in deep, see? He knows the Pactmasters, which is the local branch of the shadowy government, and he’s got too many people speaking out against him showing up dead the next morning for it to be a coincidence, man. It’s like I was telling you before, right? Somebody powerful decides you gotta die and then they sneak into your room while you sleep and paint you full of wrinkles, and they just add a few more every month or so until you think you’ve always had ‘em, and then they put plants near you to whisper that you should stop living until you believe them and just give up on breathing.” The man has to stop here to catch his breath.
”Anyway, so you have him on one side of the street and Wulessa in the cart. The cart knows things because it’s out in the street, yeah? And now the street’s going in the cart and the cart’s in the street and nobody knows where to buy their noodles anymore because they’re being seduced by both of them at the same time! It’s enough to drive someone absolutely start raving mad, it is!
”But now the cart knows that it can’t find buyers for its noodles because all the birds have shut theirs doors, see? And the birds don’t do that unless the Man tells them to. Whatever’s going on here goes all the way up to the top. It’s a conspiracy, or my name’s not Joe Public!”
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"Has anyone told you the story of how she once found all the bits to this STUPER DANGEROUS psychic artifact and then decided to test it on herself, and all her agents without waiting to see if it was safe? I mean what's more dangerous: having a dangerously competent alchemist in charge, or a total half-wit, idiot who thinks they are right about everything, but can't even apply bronzer properly?"
"I know! Lets try to find a way to acquire some Sun Orchid Elixir, then Roderus wouldn't have to retire, and we could sill break piñatas at his birthday!" Lauranna beams at her own cleverness. "If only we could come up with just the right scheme to do it...."
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Santiago's brow furrows, trying to follow along and understand Joe Public's delivery. Maybe I should translate the gist of some this... For the benefit of everyone else, at least.
"Phlegos Dulm runs a shop that specializes in poisons and potions, and he has some sway with the city market and the city’s masked rulers, the Pactmasters. Many of Phlegos Dulm’s enemies have turned up dead from poisoning - too many for it to be mere coincidence."
"I can help with the entertainment, playing in the band and dancing with the guests." The bard shrugs. "Hey, it's what I do."
He looks at Venture-Captain Roderus. "Mind if I keep my tips? I'm saving up for a masterwork harpsichord. Expensive."
Find evidence of a plot, sounds like we detectives.
"Are you bloody serious mate? A poisoner as a Venture-Captain?"
Roderus sighs. "Are you new to the Pathfinders, son? The Society draws in all manner of folks, with talents and interests as numerous and different as stars in the sky. Not all of them are sinners but not all of them are saints, either. Best get used to that if you plan to stick around."
" But I wanted to break the piñatas!"
"Aw, couldn't we just anesthetize Yuul (I hear she's real a dope anyhow), and put her in a closet until the party's over."
<BEST SUMMARY EVER>
Those of you paying attention can practically see the gears turning in Roderus' head as he silently second-guesses his decision to turn to the group for help.
"Okay, seems I'd better make a couple of other things clear," he sighs. He holds up a finger. "First thing is that this is one time where we're not interested in digging up the past. Every venture captain in the Society has made a mistake or made a bad call at some point. Even me. But past mistakes aren't what I'm concerned about today. Those two have never gotten along even at the best of times but now I'm hearing rumors of sabotaged goods, intimidated contacts, the works! Pathfinders sabotaging and fighting with other Pathfinders cannot be overlooked."
Roderus holds up a second finger.
"Second thing is that I'm not asking you to take sides in anything, not yet, not without more evidence. And by evidence, I mean just that - evidence. Now, it does sound like a few of you've already heard some rumors that are troubling, I won't deny that one bit. And I appreciate you sharing those with me up front. But I want to know more before I decide how we should proceed."
"Find evidence of a plot, sounds like we detectives."
The venture captain nods. "Yes, something like that. I'm hoping that once the drink is flowing and folks are relaxed that someone will let something more slip that we can work with."
"You've met Dougle, my assistant. He'll 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," Roderus nods at Santiago, "then I'm sure our entertainment for the evening would be happy to have the help. You'd have to ask them about the tips but from what little I've spoken to them I'd be surprised if they cared."
"Oh...and if you want to try talking to Phlegos or Yulessa yourselves, that's fine. Just don’t mention you’re doing it on my behalf. People like you will be under their jurisdiction now, so they might just spill their little schemes to you in hopes you’ll take their side."
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"Got it, boss. Is Dougle read-in on your concerns and your plans, or should we keep that to ourselves?" Santiago looks around for Roderus' manservant. "So, anything else? Or should we find Dougle and report for duty now?"
When the venture-captain breaks up the huddle, Santiago approaches Dougle, trying to get a sense of the man and get off on the right foot. "Roderus told us your in charge of the party, and I'll do as you ask. I've skills well-suited to supporting the entertainers. Favorable position to overwatch the guests and mingle during breaks in the set."
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"'Entertainment.' Humph!" Lauranna says in disgust. "Who does Roderus think he is? I am cleric. I work on behalf of an actual deific being--a god! Religion is a very serious deal. Whole worlds- the fate of a person's very soul depends upon it!"
"Now, where did I put my bladder that makes the rude noises when you sit on it?" "Oh! There it is!" she says getting back up.
**brpt.** "Heh."
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"Just 'cos I'm small it don't make me yer son, Captain." Lucky practically snarls at Roderus. Bloody human, looking down on us. "I'm a Knight of Taldor, and I earned that title by blood and sweat."
"But yeah, I'm new to the Society. And it's becoming increasingly clear that not everyone in the Pathfinder Society is on the up-and-up. There's enough good'uns that I plan to stick around for a while. I kind of owe that much to a mate. But if I find that Society leaders aren't receptive to doing what's right when they've got the opportunity then I might have to look for other employment.
As for today's party, I'll take security detail. What's your weapons policy? For guests and for 'staff'?"
No bloody way I'm serving drinks!