Please Ninja Dot!
You have been stationed at the Grand Lodge in Absalom, awaiting assignment for a mission of utmost importance. Things finally seemed in motion when Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng sent out a summons for available agents. Specialized in the history of Absalom, Dreng is known for putting off-duty agents to work on sundry tasks when he finds them resting within the city’s limits.
Coming to the meeting place—an odd choice of venue, as it is a street corner far from the Grand Lodge—a lone beggar garbed in baggy robes approaches. The only figure visible in the constant drizzle, the beggar sticks out his hands for currency.
“Have you any coin to spare, fine folk?”
The question hangs in the air for only a scant moment before the figure pulls back his hood to reveal the wizened face of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng. He gives a crooked smile, soaked head to toe from his unprotected time in the rain. His clothes smell faintly of cabbage.
“Sorry about that,” he says with a wink. “I always like to play a little joke... on agents..." He stops midsentence, his brow deeply furrowed. "Glasses must be all smudged from this rain, just a tick." Plucking the spectacles from their perch on his nose, he wipes them down with a wet rag. "Glasses of True-Seeing they said, see everything as it is meant to be, they said! They're bunk in the rain, they didn't say!"
Glasses in their rightful place, he can't help but to take in the sight before him...
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A beautiful woman rides up to the beggar-captain upon a bedraggled horse. Her long dark hair is plastered to her face by the rain, framing her high cheekbones and pale white skin. Her eyes are the blue-green of the sea.
She wears the thick hide of some sea-creature for armour - a whale, or a bull-seal perhaps - and her lower limbs are covered by long dark skirts.
"Venture-Captain?" she asks in a musical voice. "I am Aurora Arulius. You summoned me?"
Aurora lifts her face to the sky and allows the rain to fall upon her face. I love the rain! What a pleasing sensation, as the water strikes the skin! The comfort of the sea, with the stimulus of the land. Looking around to check that she is not being observed, Aurora hitches up her skirt a little to allow the rain to strike her tail. For beneath the long skirts is the lower body of a fish. Aurora is a mermaid.
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A tall, if short on a human scale, amurrun with tawny, striped fur follows behind Aurelia's horse. His face is covered by a carved lion mask, and so the wrinkling of his nose as it is assaulted by the smell of cabbage is unseen. Armed with a heavy glaive and armored in an intricately articulated breastplate, he clinks and squeaks as he walks in the rain.
"Certainl--," he begins, reaching for his pouch before Drandle cuts him off and reveals himself.
There is a wispy snort of amusement from behind the mask. "Onye Dawon, child of the eternal tribe of creation, but you knew that since you summoned me, I suppose."
At his belt hang three additional elaborately carved and painted masks--cheetah, leopard, and tiger--as well as a silver and an iron mace, both with holes drilled into them. His wet tail flicks back and forth in erratic intervals.
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Standing behind the others is a shadow of a figure... a short, dark gray-furred Ratfolk clad in a black cloak and matching leather armor. From under his cloak he eases the grip on his dagger but doesn't completely remove it.
Shouldn't give money to beggars and such... many are thieves and a few is cut-throats. Don't take those kind of chances. No. No. Never. Never.
The Ratfolk takes a cautious half-step forward, "Tibitz of the Graymanes. I was told you needed to see me for a job... er, I mean is there things you need me doing?" As he talks the ratfolk darts looks over his shoulders, first the right and then the left before continuing, "I mean it's adventure job-thing right? With gold pays? Yes, Yes, Good, that will be good."
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The fourth - and seemingly final - agent utters a low, throaty laugh at Tibitz's words. While her general shape and appearance is similar to Onye's her fur is a pale whitish-gray with dark spots, covered by armor stitched together from animal hides. A simple pack is slung over her shoulders and a silvery mace hangs from her belt; she carries a longspear in one hand but more as a walking stick than as a weapon. Pale green eyes regard the ratfolk with amusement.
"Things always need doing, yes? And that is what Pathfinders are, the doers of things that need doing."
Her voice is much like her laugh; feminine but low and slightly gravelly and carrying an accent that immediately places her as hailing from somewhere far to the east of the Inner Sea.
"I am Tsamara," she adds, offering a smile that seems meant to be friendly but also shows quite a few sharp teeth. "And I look forward to doing Pathfinder things that need doing with you."
"I-I-, well yes, I arranged for this encounter, but a list of names is hardly indicative of what an Agent has to offer..."
He clears his throat before continuing, having now had a chance to take in this most unusual sight.
"Now to answer your questions, why did I summon you fine folk here again…?” Dreng shakes his head from side to side, as though trying to knock water out of his ears, despite the constant downpour.
“Ah yes, the Wounded Wisp! I’m undercover now and can’t stray far from the site I’m watching, but I need someone to retrieve a package for me from that fine establishment. It’s among Absalom’s most storied taverns, you see, and one that holds a special place of privilege in the Society’s lore as the place where the organization began. Well, I could drone on and on about it, but standing out in the rain is doing none of us any favors. Well except for you, perhaps,” he admits, gesturing at Aurora. Certainly not the cats in our midst!
Taking your eager questions for work as agreement, the bedraggled venture-captain produces a small slip of folded paper from one of his many stitched pockets. Dreng quickly shows a glimpse of the page’s contents: a map detailing the location of the Wounded Wisp bar.
“The bartender is a woman by the name of Heryn Gale, a fine lady who came to own the Wisp after the passing of her father from—oh, bah, it’s really getting too cold for me to give a proper history lesson! If you could just go to the Wisp, and tell Heryn you’re there to pick up my parcel, it would be most appreciated. I’ll be around here for several more hours at least.”
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The Wounded Wisp was a bar once frequented by the original members of the Pathfinder Society before the Society was even formed. Inside the Wisp, acquaintances would share stories about their adventurous exploits with one another.
DC 15
Many volumes of the Pathfinder Chronicles came together under the Wisp’s roof. Famous Pathfinders like Eando Kline and the Seeker Osprey often stopped by for a drink while they relaxed in Absalom between assignments. Though not officially affiliated with the Society, the bar maintains good relations with Pathfinders, offering discounts and prompt service. The owners have always kept themselves and the Wisp afloat through the generosity of Society agents who spend coin at the establishment.
DC 20
Selmius Foster was one of the founding members of the Pathfinder Society, known to have frequented the Wisp often and occasionally taken up residence in a spare room between his travels. His celebrated exploits first appeared in Volume 1 of the Pathfinder Chronicles.
DC 25
Following the death of Selmius Foster on the island of Bhopan, his assistant Adolphus made several donations to maintain one of his mentor’s favorite sites. The exact arrangement between Adolphus and the owners of the Wisp was never disclosed, but it is said that some of this gold came from the same fortune that Adolphus used to found the Pathfinder lodge in Quantium.
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"Cold? But it's wonderful! To feel the rain and the wind on your face, don't you think?"
Aurora looks at the two catfolk a little suspiciously. They wouldn't try to eat me, would they? Or the rat? Wait, what do I taste like? Hmmm..... Aurora bites on a pinky, a little hard. No, not raw. I might taste like seawife! Ugh!
"You want a package from the tavern then? Why does that need four of us, Venture-Captain? Seems like a Lodge porter could do that for you. Oh, wait! What's the menu like? What's their specialty?"
"I've heard it used to be a Pathfinder hangout, back before the Society was even formed."
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"I'm glad that one of us knows a little something of this place," Tsamara remarks to Aurora. "This may come as a big surprise, but this land isn't my home."
She waits a beat and then laughs.
"I know, I speak the obvious. One of the first questions people here have had - after 'Can I touch your fur?' - has been about my accent. But like I said, this land and city isn't my home and I've not had much chance to learn its history."
But I've always been better at learning people, anyway.
Her tail flicks, sending a few droplets of water flying, before curling close around her leg. She studies her companions, or more specifically Aurora and Tibitz. Onye was more of a known, though his accent didn't seem to be one that she was familiar with. Still, she'd heard stories that there were others much like her own people that lived half a world away, to the south.
The other two...hmm...
Oh! Now I remember - ysoki, but the humans call them ratfolk. Rude but not really surprising. And Aurora...people of the ocean, maybe? She might just be farther from her homeland than the rest of us.
"The job sounds simple enough, though. And it will be nice to explore the city a little!"
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Tibitz eyes the others around him.
Tibitz stiffens as he addresses the Venture Captain, "Fish people and cat people and me? You must need VERY special, yes special group of Path-venturers to do job. Me thinks big job, very big job. Cats people very quite, not as sneaky as me but very good fighters... yes, yes, and swimmer-lady she look very good at swimming. Must be VERY, VERY special things to be finding. This mean much gold...yes, gold."
Tibitz seems to be very happy at the prospect of an adventure.
"We will find. Get special fee? Yes, yes, we find."
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Drandle nods eagerly with his hand's clasped as you all take his bait seem to champion your mission. Nothing like letting their own imaginations answer their curiosity! It'd be a shame to tell them they're fetching a bottle of wine after all these wonderings of theirs! Takes dedication to sample all the wines in their cellar in descending order of bottling!
"Yes, yes, a very special package! I dare not disappear from my current role in this district, so you are doing me quite the service!" Mischief glints across his eyes.
At the mention of the oddity that is their group's racial composition, Drandle's mouth goes slack and his body tenses. Breaking through his stupor by sheer force of will, he begins frantically patting himself down before eventually pulling out a stubby pencil and a rectangular piece of cardstock.
He mumbles to himself as he reads the card, occasionally glancing up at you.
Flashing the card in your direction, you see 'PFS Bingo' in bold letters written across the top.
"Didn't even need the free space, Ambrus is going to be soooo peeved when he finds out he owes me ten gold pieces! He thought he was slick with his all-Kobold group, but I've done him one better!" Jogging in the direction of the Grand Lodge, he waves back at all of you.
"Meet you at the Lodge, get out of this rain!"
And with that abrupt departure, the lot of you find yourselves alone in the cold rain, tasked with the delivery of "a parcel" from a "Heryn Gale" at the "Wound Wisp!"
Built from dark, discolored wood, the exterior of the Wounded Wisp is the image of an iconic dive bar. Stained and barred windows obscure direct vision into the establishment, though ruddy yellow light bleeds from a window in the front hall. The only distinguishing feature on the Wisp’s exterior is a thick wooden sign hanging from above the bar’s entrance. A brass ring fitted onto the sign anchors a lantern that hangs there during the evening hours. The scent of stale beer and the sound of what can only be a pair of rowdy Half-Orcs can be detected through the closed door.
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Onye heads into the bar, not waiting for Aurora to hitch her horse. With awkward grace, he maneuvers the door open and his glaive and himself through the portal. He stands inside the doorway--far enough to allow his companions ingress--dripping and says, "Greetings! We are here for the very large package from Heryn Gale!"
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"'Fish people', Tibitz? Really? Do you like being called 'rat-people'? I am a mermaid, thank you. 'Merfolk' is also acceptable. I am not a fish."
In something of a huff, Aurora flops down off her horse with a splash. She whispers to her mount softly, and slowly shuffles over to the stable-post to tie him off. It's ungainly to say the least. "You go ahead, I'll follow" she calls as the two-legged party members make their way towards the Wisp's front door.
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Tibitz shrugs at Aurora's rebuff, apparently not fully aware of whatever line he has crossed, "Yes, yes Rat-people are what they call us. You swim-folk, yes swim-folk."
Tibitz hurries with the rest of the group as they travel towards the tavern, but takes the opportunity to ask a few questions during the short walk.
"What do you do, do yes, do? What VERY SPECIAL skills or magic-things do you do? I am very sneaky and silent. I also know how to wiggle into things and get things that need gettin'. I know TINKER-things and mixing-magic-things. I do them good! Will do things that will get us very special pay. I become Path-venturer because I good at Tinker-things and Sneaky-things."
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"I am a guardian of the edges of creation," Onye answers in a rather matter of fact manner for the pomposity of phrase. "The spirits of creation flow through me to do battle with all manner of aberrations and monstrosities. I have not encountered many monstrosities, though. Any, really. So I come to the Pathfinder Society to travel far and wide where I will encounter such beasts and so do my duty to creation."
His armor and armaments speak to the more mundane skill he possesses. Looking down at the ysoki, he says quite seriously, "It is very useful the skills with tinkering that you have. You will contribute much to our tribe of Pathfinders."
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"Well I suppose 'swim-folk' is better than fish-people. I am a priestess of the goddess of magic and feasting! I can call upon Her power to make our enemies sick, as though they had eaten seawife, which let me tell you is quite disgusting!" Aurora displays a wooden talisman in the shape of a fly with a skull-like emblem on its back.
"My teacher disappeared without any warning, and the only clue he left me was a broken wayfinder. That led me here, to the Pathfinder Society. The Master of Spells considers me quite a talented prospect, as is only fitting for a priestess of the goddess of magic (and feasting, we mustn't forget the feasting)."
"Are we there yet? I'm starving!"
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At least a few times, people catch notice of you as you practically parade down the main thoroughfare to the Wounded Wisp. Most only stare for a moment, but more than one ice cream fell to the floor as a casualty of a gawking child.
"Am I dreaming?
"Daddy, what's that?" *points*
"Is the circus in town? I'd watch that act!"
A doorman sits at the counter of what must be the cloakroom. With his head resting on his hand, resting on his elbow, resting on the counter, the teenager appraises each of you as you walk in. He seems to be entirely unphased. "Coat check," he says flatly, not even bothering to turn it into a question or an offer. At Onye's declaration, he mumbles "I'll show you a large package," before snickering to himself. Clearing his throat, he says again, "Coat check." Anyone who hands him something is given a greasy numbered tag in return with a complimentary eye roll.
Once you round the corner , the smell of smoke and spilled ale assails the senses in this wide-open area. Walls of dark-stained wood make up the sides of the Wounded Wisp, while well-used wooden tables are spread throughout the space. A raised area in the back of the establishment houses several additional tables and eating areas for groups seeking more than just a good drink. An austere bar supported by kegs instead of wooden panels
commands the northern end of the room. A stained-glass cabinet stands behind the bar, its dark panes cracked in several spots, yet not so opaque as to conceal the several dozen types of hard liquor within. Stationed behind the bar is a woman working away at creating drinks at an improbable speed. Between pouring ale, tapping a new keg, and mixing a few cocktails, she never misses a beat or spills a drop...
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Tibitz's twitching nose betrays his hunger as the smell of food and ale reaches his nostrils.
"Sniff, sniff, this is good food here. Not sewer food or bad-things food. Nice uh'man food stuffs here."
As he begins to noticeably salivate, Tibitz catches himself and adopts a professional demeanor.
"No time food. No time ale. We have Path-venture thing to be doing. Do get-thing first. Yes, yes. Much time later."
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What are you saying?!" Aurora gasps n shock as though Tibitz had uttered the most appalling of profanities. "There is always time for food! And I don't remember us being given a time limit. Right, Onye? Right, Tsamara?"
Aurora smiles sweetly at the nearest apparent bar staff. "Excuse me? Can I see the menu please? Oh, you know what? We'll take one of everything. Oh! Hold on, guys? How much gold do you have?" Aurora takes out her own purse, and finds it rather light. "We'd better check the menu after all" she admits sadly.
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With the pronouncement of there being enough time to enjoy a meal Tibitz becomes very excited and quickly moves to take a place at one of the available tables.
"Eat yes, yes. We eat foods."
Tibitz reaches into his belt pouch as he peers over his shoulders- first the right one, then the left as if preparing for an ambush. His apparent joy shattered by the sudden realization that at any moment he could become the prey of some predator.
As he gingerly places a single gold piece on table he states what to him can only be the obvious, "We want cheeses and soups. Ale too! Yes, yes, ale too!"
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Without breaking her workflow, the bartender responds to Onye. "Yup, that's me, my replacement is late again so I'm going to have to stay right here until she arrives."
A mug of ale is placed on the counter with a wet clunk and knocks once on the bar. "This is my condolence. One for any of your colleagues too. Didn't see who you came in with. Tell your server 'A Gale's Coming,' they'll know. Mingle for a bit, I'll nab you when I'm relieved."
A waiter comes to Tibitz's table, armed with a pen and pad of paper. "Are you eating alone little guy? Just one piece of any kind of cheese and one bowl of any kind of soup? I can get you an ale too," he says with the same tone you suspect he'd give a small child. Reaching into a nearby nook, he pulls out a booster seat and holds it towards the Ratfolk to take if he likes.
A waitress peels a menu off of a table and hands it to Aurora. It's still wet from the water that was used to move the grime around on the table. While well-stocked in alcoholic beverages, the food is your typical pub fare.
Looking around, you see four main focal points of social interaction:
Local, DC 10 or Confirmation on this character?
That's Janira Gavix, the local Pathfinder fangirl/try-hard!
Religion, DC 10?
He is wearing a holy symbol of Sarenrae.
Local, DC 10?
That's Aram bin Kaleel, he owns/runs Kaleel’s Curiosities, a shop in the Coins district!
Local, DC 10?
Those are the Boartusk Twins, Pathfinder Agents who usually get called for the more "rough and tumble" missions!
Local, DC 10?
That's Yargos Gill, a military historian who's worked with the Pathfinder Society several times. He's frowning at the pages and shakes his head often.
History, DC 10?
The tome he's reading is called "Crossbows, Disease, and Steel: the Fates of Human Societies."
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Aurora smacks her lips as she peruses the menu. "Mmmm. Cheese! Solidified curds of the milk of four-legged bovines. Who comes up with this stuff? How did anybody find out this stuff could be eaten?" She glances over at the serious-looking man nearby. "Excuse me sir, aren't you Yargos Gill? I'm Aurora. First time here. What do you recommend from the menu? Is there a house specialty?"
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If the waiter was attempting to insult Tibitz he apparently doesn't notice. At the offer of a booster-seat, Tibitz just raises hand and shakes his head 'no.'
"No...Not need me sit here. Sit here, yes, yes."
As Tibitz waits for his food he scans the room looking at all the people gathered there.
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Half-muttering to himself, "Janira Path-venture agent and too talky girl... and over there is the COIN SELLER... he be good person to know when I find more findy-shiny-things. But that u'man ... that is a big book of things. Wonder if these people are on findy-missions too!?!"
As soon as he finishes his meal (which he relishes with all the joy of the finest banquet) he will approach Yargos Gill.
"I am Tibitz, master Path-venturer. What thing are you doing? You need master-mixer to help? I have time. What word-book is that? I read many words of many places. You need help, yes, yes."
As you move around to mingle, you notice that most everyone is discussing a Sir Reinhart of Kenabres, a Mendevian crusader who recently arrived from the north, and his plans for attempting the Test of the Starstone.
With such a peculiar and overwhelming array of smells, sights, and noises, Tsamara makes her way to the bar for a drink and something to eat. "Sorry, just need a moment to settle myself in the fresh air outside," she confesses to the party before heading outside.
The twins bump fists and perform what's clearly their handshake when Onye recognizes them. "Boartusks, in the flesh!" they say in unison. The male is the one who answers his question first. "Swimmin' through aa world o' lights right now, hahaha!" he explains spreading his arms wide with his palms forward. His sister punches him in the shoulder. "Pffff, Garl, you're always trying to be so intellectual! The cat's wearing a mask, bet you can't pull anything over him."
"Ya don't always 'ave to blow up my spot in front of people though Shrade, s%*&..." The winds taken a little out of his sails, he looks at Onye. "Alright, alright, you look like you've got some meat on your bones and some extra spring in your step," Garl says, appraising you. "Whoa, he's got a tail too, you seeing this Shrade?" he asks his sister, his hand blocking his mouth, but forgetting to actually lower his voice. "Bet you can't... uh... do one of those back hand springs!"
Shrade crosses an arm and covers her face with the others. "Gral, this is why everyone thinks we've only got a mind for hitting things!" She clears her throat. "A battleworthy story works too!"
As soon as Aurora starts speaking to Yargos, he raises a hand with a finger raised, his eyes continuing to scan his current page through to completion. "Yes, yes I am," he responds, clutching the inner side of his vest with one hand. He raises an eyebrow at Aurora's question. Clearly knows of me, but inquires about the food? Odd. "The bangers and mash are a safe bet, but I'd leave the mushy peas on the plate unless bland goop is something your palate enjoys," he suggests, giving her a quick up-down. A Merfolk? What information might she bring from the ocean's depths?
He stares at Tibitz for a moment before taking a drink from his flagon and sighing. What a duo. "Reading. I am reading a book," he explains flatly. After meticulously placing his bookmark, he closes the tome and turns it towards the Ratfolk, but doesn't take his hand off of it. "This is one historian's flawed perspective on the collapse of civilizations prior. Help? Do I look like I need help with my reading, sir? Ahhh, Ratfolk. News of Absalom's Warrens are intersting as well, if for different reasons, but I can't make heads or tails of this fellow.
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"Oh, thank you!" Aurora says to Yargos.
"Waiter! I'll have what he's having." she says. "And also bangers and mash - no peas. And I'll have a pot of olives. And a selection of breads. Oooh - buffalo wings! Yes. What's this here? Chimera hoof? I'll take some of those. And pastries. Don't forget the ale now!"
Aurora settles in to wait for her meal. "What does the author get wrong, Yargos? Does he say anything about food? I often wonder what they used to eat in ancient days. Like, did they know that you shouldn't eat seawife?"
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"Hmm," Onye purrs. "I have never tried to do a back hand-spring. Have you done one before? Let me take off my armor and stretch."
The amurrun removes the lion mask and sets it down on the table while he goes about unfastening the various straps on his articulated armor. During this process, he talks to the half-orc twins. "Once I battled bandits on the cliffs overlooking the sea. They had captured scholars and were going to execute them. We arrived just in time to keep their blood from being spilled, but the dastards pushed one of the scholars--who were all chained together--over the cliff, slowly each one was drawn toward the edge. We had to fight our way through the bandits. They were hardy. It took so long, that only the last one was left, scrabbling to stay on the cliff as the weight of the other two pulled at him. Fortunately, I am a good climber, and we managed to rescue them from a fatal fall into the sea. Ah, there."
He sets his armor down on the table and stretches his back and his limbs. "So, is this how it goes?" he asks before attempting a back hand-spring of some fashion.
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"Didn't even need the free space, Ambrus is going to be soooo peeved when he finds out he owes me ten gold pieces! He thought he was slick with his all-Kobold group, but I've done him one better!"
Tsamara blinks and then looks at her three companions.
"I feel like there's some sort of joke that I've missed. Maybe it's a...Absalom thing?" she shrugs, pulling the hood of her cloak up a little more in order to keep the rain out of her face.
"Or maybe a human thing? Humor doesn't always translate well across language and cultural barriers..."
Tsamara regards Onye with a mixture of curiosity and respect. "Spirits of creation...like the spirits of the land? Or the elements? Spirit-talkers of any form are very special - and powerful. If they live long enough."
"I've learned some of the gods of these lands - isn't that the symbol of the harbinger of death and disease?" Tsamara asks, giving Aurora a bit of side-eye in the process. "Or...maybe I didn't understand the lesson as much as I thought I did?"
Realizing that everyone else has already shared at least a little of what they bring to the table, Tsamara knows that following suit is the only polite thing to do. "Oh, I should share too, yes? I channel spirits too, in a way. But not the spirits of creation. My power comes from the sun and the stars in the night sky," she explains. "I bring their light to places of darkness."
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Though she'd certainly been in her fair share of crowded locales - Goka was nearly as populous as Absalom - there was still something about the inns and taverns of the Inner Sea that made them seem busier still. And the food, oh, the scent of the food in such places! Less fish and vegetables than she was used to but much more meat and bread and other heady foods - it was enough to drive her to distraction at times.
And so after placing her order she excuses herself back outside for a few minutes to catch her breath, clear her nostrils, and cool off before heading back inside. She returns to the bar to collect her bowl of beef stew and her ale, before looking around to see what everyone else had gotten up to. After noticing that her companions are already chatting up some of the other patrons, she...
...takes stock of them all, her eyes settling on Aram bin Kaleel and his holy symbol. She purrs softly; she'd learned of Sarenrae in her early classes and felt a sort of kinship with the goddess' worshipers.
Tsamara heads over to the table where Aram and the other Pathfinders sit, bowl in one hand and mug in the other. "Excuse me...is there room for one more?"
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Tibitz doesn't seem to understand Yargos Gill's less than subtle social cues, or doesn't care.
"No more foods. Too much eats already. I like books history and stuff. Speak Dragon and Dwarf. Dwarfs write very much on history."
"I see you here in tavern. You have no rooms of books to study at? There are big book places here in A-b-slum. I read the fire dragon and ice dragon books already. Dragon magics. You know that Dragons have very big magics? They are very big."
Tibitz will attempt to recall some rather odd pieces of magical and alchemical trivia to show he is a competent practitioner of the arts.
The Twins hang on Onye's every word, especially as the intensity increases when he gets to the part of the single scholar scrabbling for his life. So enthralled are they that by the time his last piece of armor comes off, their surprised by the sudden change of appearance.
Garl gets up when Onye signals he's ready. "Alright you halfwits, clear the way! Onye the Catman is gonna do something cool and y'all ain't gonna mess it up, YES you too Halfling, being half in the way is still in the way!" he orders, pointing at a now scrambling Halfling. As Onye successfully, and impressively, completes his feat of gymnastics the pub explodes with cheering and clapping.
Once he makes his way back to the table, the twins throw their arms around him and Onye finds himself between the two Half-Orcs. "You're alright Catman, you're alright! Look, if you ever need help with something along the lines of causing a diversion or getting into places that you aren't really supposed to get into, you let us know!" Shrade offers as Garl nods. "We're tougher than nails yeah, buh we're tryin' tuh show the others that we can do otha jobs too," Garl adds.
Yargos collects his thoughts for a moment before beginning. "No, no, I'm not an anthropologist, that sort of information does not concern me, beyond, perhaps, any subsequent impact on their agricultural development and therefore the economy of a civilization. To start, for a book concerned about 'the fates of human societies,' he consistently overemphasises the extent to which geography affects civilizations course of development and neglects the power of human agency! Not to mention his lack of tact when considering the powerful hand of racism and hegemony in the historical development of an empire and its colonies. Why in 1262 AR when..." At this point, Yargos begins to ramble on about military history that gradually has less and less to do with his initial point.
About ten minutes into this impromptu mini-lecture on assorted military histories, a small team of wait staff deliver Aurora's order. Right as the final item is set on the table, the pot of olives, the pub erupts with chaos! People are cheering and clapping, some are standing. If you look around, you see Onye breathing heavily on the opposite side of the pub from the two Half-Orcs, who are perhaps cheering the loudest.
As things calm down, Tibitz takes his chance to prove Yargos wrong, that he's more than just a rat in a cage! He looks at the Ratfolk with genuine shock when he mentions not only the languages he allegedly knows, but books written in such languages. "My, my, how fascinating, if a rather simplistic explanation," he comments. As they begin to discuss alchemy, the conversation naturally begins to shift to the beautiful intersection of Tibitz's and Yargos' passions: the application of alchemy in the realm of warfare.
"Yes, yes! Always room for another," bin Kaleel says waving at one of the other Pathfinders to pull a chair over for Tsamara. "I am Aram bin Kaleel, a Pathfinder. In fact, we are all Pathfinders," he says gesturing to the others at the table. Their eyes are wide as they stare at you, their fresh-out-the-box Wayfinders shining brightly on the table. Silence hangs in the air a little too long before one of the green agents realizes that was their cue to introduce themselves.
"Now! You know all of us, but who are you? What brings you to the Wounded Wisp on this rainy day? We were just dicussing basic preparations that every Pathfinder should have when they expect to venture out into the field," he explains.
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"I am called Tsamara and I'm here on a mission of great importance," the amurrun responds with an air of great solemnity. She lets it hang for a moment...and then laughs.
"Actually no, I am here on a mission but it is probably most important to the one that sent me here. And the others, over there and there," she explains, pointing out Onye, Aurora and Tibitz. "Master Drandle Dreng sent us here to pick up a package. But we have time and thought we would also enjoy the food and drink here. And the company."
If she notices the staring she doesn't comment on it. It was something that she quickly had to get used to once she'd traveled beyond the borders of Tian Xia.
"If it isn't being too nosy of me, what preparations are you talking about? I've been out in the field before but there's much to see and I am only one amurrun."
Bin Kaleel chuckles. "Oh, Venture-Captain Dreng always has a way of giving Agents odd tasks that evolve into deeper meaning," he says, shaking his head at fond memories.
"Now, back to business! As I've told the others, a Pathfinder should stand on his own two feet, but be able to lean on a fellow agent when needed,” he begins. "To that end, you should seek to always be ready for basic obstacles and be willing to share your equipment. Swarms, for example, commonly of insects. Carrying a few Alchemist Fires is advisable, but be willing to give them to others so they can help you throw them too. An item resting in a bag does nobody any good."
He pauses here to give the Agents a moment to write out notes.
"Alchemist Fires are also an excellent tool for handling other creatures, like Trolls and their Trollhounds. Their bodies continue to heal at an unnatural rate until acid or fire cauterizes their wounds. By carrying several flasks of this substance, you're preparing for multiple tasks! That's the beauty of it, an ounce of preparation is worth a pound of cure."
Again, he pauses for note-taking.
"Tsamara, perhaps you've some words of advice for our students here today? Perhaps from your own experience or knowledge? I could speak for days about this, but it is more important that everyone shares their learning than letting one person become the sole source of knowledge."
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The young amurrun considers the spotlight that she's been thrust into and thinks back on her - admittedly limited - previous experiences in the field. Her mind drifts back to a small village in Kwanlai and the evil forces that had insidiously infiltrated the insular people that lived there. The task she and her fellow agents would have been that much harder to accomplish if it hadn't been for...
"...languages."
She blinks, realizing that the last word was one she'd spoken aloud. "Ah, what I mean is that it's...very important to make sure that you can communicate with the world around you, if you can," she quickly explains. "Learning a language is the best way but it takes time and not everyone has the brains for it. But I've heard of magical aids that can grant one a similar effect for a short time."
"Speaking from experience...it can make things much easier if you're able to speak the languages of the lands that you walk."
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Aurora quickly grows bored of the military historian, and concentrates on her food. Mmm. Soup. Liquid foods are so interesting! She cleans her soup bowl with a hunk of bread and gulps it down.
Surveying the room again, Aurora notes the halfling in the corner. She picks up her plate of buffalo wings and in her clumsy land-bound half-flop half-slither she makes her way over to listen in. Aurora sets the buffalo wings on the bar top and picks at them as she watches the halfling's group.
From the middle of the Onye sandwich, the Catfolk spies a man rushing into the Wounded Wisp. He's throwing on an apron while Heryn briefs him. Probably a matter of minutes before she waves you over.
At the conclusion of their animated conversation concerning explosives and war, which peaked over a discussion of a ship's worth of Alchemist's Fire being used to ravage a fleet (something from Tibitz' fire and ice dragon books), there is a natural pause. "You know, Tibitz, right? Tibitz, if you ever find yourself in the Arcanamirium, be in touch!"
"Yes! There is much wisdom to her words, Agents. Communication is key! Alright, I think that's enough for today, scurry on now," bin Kaleel says, waving off the green agents. As one of them leaves, he manages to snag the price tag off of their boot. Shaking his head, he chuckles. "Tsamara, if you ever find yourself needing some advice, come on down to my shop in the Coins District, Kaleel's Curiosities. You know quite a bit already, but Pathfinders should stick together!" he offers.
Janira can't help put smirk while she delivers her story, spotting Aurora flop on over to her. " -running through the forest, dodging, ducking, dipping, diving, and dodging out of the way of branches. I had just hurtled over a ravine when I tripped! That Minotaur was on me in a moment, I could feel it's rank breath oozing over me. As I drew my whip, in what I knew was my last stand, the Pathfinder Agents whom I was confirming poured from the mouth of a cave! Emboldened by my fellow agents, I snatched the axe from the beast's hands and it fell before a hail of rocks and arrows! And that my friends, is the story of my wildest Confirmation." At the conclusion of her story, her audience claps and cheers, one even puts a few coins on the table she's standing upon.
As the crowd disperses, she gathers the coins and takes a seat at the bar. "Couldn't help but to notice you squirming your way over! Not everyday a Merfolk curiously seeks you out. Janira Gavix, how are you doing Ms...?" She asks before wetting her throat.
At this point in time, Heryn passes on the mantle to the latecomer and you see her wave Onye over before walking into the kitchen.
"Alright you four, thank you for waiting. He's got a new baby at home, so he loses track of the time sometimes. Drandle's order is in the rack mounted on the back wall. Year's 4206AR, should be the only one we've got. Been there for at least a generation! Anyways, let's go get it," she explains, now leading the way into the cellar. "Mind your heads and the plank!"
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"Squirming is it? I'd like to see how you fare 20 fathoms deepnom <burp!>" Aurora says in between mouthfuls of buffalo wings. "Anyway, I'm Aurora Arulius, pleased to meet you. Does minotaur taste like beef, or human? Or does it depend on which bit you eat? Oh, sorry, looks like duty calls!"
Without waiting for Janira's culinary advice, Aurora 'squirms' off towards the kitchen, bowl of spicy chicken wings in hand.
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"If you are eager to help, I could use some help putting my armor back on," Onye says to the Boartusks. "It is an awful pain to pull all the straps together by oneself."
Once he is appropriately fastened back into his segmented armor, he smiles and says, "We have a very good engineer in our tribe, but if we need a diversion, we will be sure to think of you. I very much enjoyed my time with you two. I am sure I will see you around the Lodge, but now it is time to collect the package for Master Dreng."
....
"What happened to your cellar?" he asks, looking at the giant crack in the floor.
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At the end of their conversation Tibitz will take up Yargos up his offer, "Yes, Yes. I will see you soon. I need find book on Dwarfy fire throwing stick... good for long throw. Meet you good. Yes, yes. Bye, yes, bye."
***
Once the group is heading into the cellar Tibitz will start talking out loud (possibly to himself),"We go down to stairs and get special stuff? Oh, cat-warrior right, this big crack. Maybe a dragon down there?"
"Oh, ok! Well, if you ever need the help of another Pathfinder, I'll be here all day!" Janira responds.
"Haha! No dragons, just Mother Nature. During the earthquake of 4698AR, the Wounded Wisp made it through, but took some structural damage. The serious stuff we had no choice to fix, not to mention the City of Absalom subsidized some of that, but things like this? A big old crack in the ground? That was on us. We have to replace the board every now and then, but we find being careful is good enough for us," Heryn explains while taking off her apron and hanging it on a hook.
Moving very slowly, Heryn Gale treads across the board. It gives a gentle creak with her weight, but otherwise holds fast. She takes a few more steps to give you space to maneuver and waits by a small set of stairs patiently for your arrival.
Anyone with eyes and the will to actually look at the board can tell that this thing is barely holding it together. There are a few opportunities for reinforcing it, but to do it well would take some level of expertise.
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"Oh! Yes, I will," Tsamara nods eagerly in response to Aram bin Kaleel's offer. "I would - oh, it looks like the rest of my group is ready to get back to work. Thank you and it was nice meeting you, sir," she adds, hastily finishing the last bits of her stew before getting to her feet and hurrying away.
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"Why would there be a dragon in the basement?" Tsamara asks of Tibitz, genuinely curious. "That sounds like the beginning of a good story, you know..."
But that thought is interrupted by the dilemma of getting Aurora safely across the small gap.
"Hmm...maybe we can toss you across?"