It has been weeks since the siege of Nerosyan, when demonic hordes from the Abyss surged forth from the region known as the Worldwound to assault the capital city of the crusader nation of Mendev. Brave Pathfinders stood side-by-side with the city’s defenders, managing to push back the attackers and ensure Nerosyan did not fall to the demons.
Venture-Captain Jorsal, the Society’s principle representative in Nerosyan, took charge of the Pathfinder defenders and since the siege has deployed numerous groups on missions throughout the region. Having left Nerosyan to survey the devastation of Kenabres, which fell to the demonic offensive—Jorsal ensured some of his agents remained behind in Nerosyan to guard the Starrise Spire, the local lodge. Earlier this morning a messenger arrived with a sealed letter from Jorsal, signaling that more work remains to be done.
Esteemed Pathfinders,
I trust this letter reaches you without incident. I remain in Kenabres, assessing the damage dealt by the demonic offensive that struck all along Mendev’s western border. Although the city is devastated, the fiends lost momentum and failed to maintain their advantage, and several particularly brave crusaders have rallied the scattered forces for a counterattack.
Since the siege of Nerosyan, I have mulled over a most troubling discovery. I received reports from Pathfinders involved in the siege implicating Thurl, Nerosyan’s other venture-captain, of knowing that the demons would attack and when. What little evidence I have goes so far as to suggest that Thurl assisted the demons in planning the assault against us.
Following the attack, I sent several Pathfinders to investigate Thurl’s lodge, and though the ground floor was bare of any further incriminating evidence, the lower level were inaccessible. Thurl left many magical wards to keep out intruders, and until we could investigate further and confirm whether or not my dwarven colleague had engaged in dire mischief, the Decemvirate has ordered that I not publicize my suspicions. I received word only an hour ago that those wards appear to have faded.
I have kept you at Starrise Spire not for mundane guard duty but because I can trust you to finish the investigation of Thurl’s lodge. Go there, enter its basement, and find what evidence you can that implicates Thurl in activities against the Society. Once you have explored his lodge thoroughly, report back to Starrise Spire and await my return.The Pathfinder Society must know for certain whether Thurl has betrayed us and to what extent our trek to Jormurdun—to say nothing of the Mendevian Crusade—has been compromised. Our efforts shall mean nothing if sabotaged by a traitor, and the sooner we know, the less damage he can inflict.
Inheritor guide your hand,
Venture-Captain Jorsal of Lauterbury
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Pale, painfully slender, with long, raven black hair and a fashion style that can best be described as "Gothic" the odd elf who talks to a doll might easily be mistaken for a vampire.
But alas, he is not undead, he simply has a strong affinity for them. In fact, since arriving for guard duty, he has been investigating them any chance he gets in this place that has so many restless spirits.
He reads the letter they're delivered carefully, apparently not at all annoyed by being interrupted in...whatever it was he was doing.
"Oh, how delightful, Vaultkeeper! Betrayal! Or...potential betrayal. I do SO hope it is a case of mistaken identity or misunderstood motives. It would be SO pedestrian if it was as straightforward as someone being a traitor. But then, maybe there is a scandalous reason. Perhaps Thurl was seduced by a succubus or was repaying some debt or had a curse put on him."
Vangral is once more speaking to the strange doll he carries, the one made out of skin, bone, teeth and hair, the one that smells strongly of dirt and age.
And he seems to be speaking to it as though discussing an upcoming play rather than an actual mission involving actual people.
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Toral is a young Dwarf from a Kelish merchant family. He always felt the pull of the heavens and stars.
Toral embraces the lessons of the past as the heavens have watched over this world since the beginning of time.
He is a stoic negotiator but has an empathic approach. He is very perceptive and understands people's motives which is very important as a merchant.
He typically walks around in his full plate and during battle tries not to attack but use spells and hexes instead.
Toral's family has deep roots in the Exchange faction of the Pathfinder Society.
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"We are to do this together then Vangral?! Hmm ... first I thought this is again one of these missions! I thought that the Exchange again forgot that I have a business to run! A business! The only reason for dragging my body to these Pathfinder events is the good pay ... and obviously the contacts and relationships ... but a dwarf betraying the society?" he says with a stern look on his face.
"This means I need to act! Trust is the basis of my business relationships and don't want a shadow to hang over me and my brothers!" he says with determination in his voice.
"Well, I should complain less and work harder to get back to my enterprise ASAP!"
He looks at the other Pathfinders.
"Let us find out what happened and what Thurl was up to!"
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"Oh yes, yes...business, of course. What we do to earn our daily bread. If only we didn't have to waste so much time on such mundane chores as eating and cooking and buying food and working to earn money to buy food. It does sometimes seem as though the undead have it all figured out, doesn't it? They just exist, no toiling, no eating. Just going about their business...but not actually doing business, of course," Vangral answers.
"But you should not trouble yourself about the actions of others. Of course no one thinks one dwarf is bad because another might be. And only might be, my friend. Might be. It all might be a misunderstanding. A delightfully entertaining misunderstanding, but a misunderstanding, nonetheless."
He almost claps his hands together with glee at the possibility but controls himself at the last moment.
Meanwhile, Toral gets the unmistakable impression that the creepy doll is watching him from where he's tucked into Vangral's belt pouch.
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When first meeting, the rest of the party would see a beautiful female ifrit - a flame atop her head mimicking her hair, and orange skin which she is not afraid to show off. The buxom paladin wears gold and silver armor that's been specially tailored to her - a gold-lined cuirass that's very low cut and an orange skirt covering leather straps for protection. All encompassing her big red eyes and wide smile.
Still, her seductive looks end there, on looks. Her attitude is very forthcoming and friendly, and her innocence shines through in every exchange with the party-"Friends! You've read the letter I presume? To think a Venture-Captain would betray us! We must get to the bottom of this, for the people of Mendev, and for the good of Nerosyan!"-she says with a determined smile-"I do hope it's been a misunderstanding, Vangral. May the Everlight show us the way."-giving an energetic handshake to Vangral.
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Seemingly out of nowhere appears a figure dressed in a long grey cloak and a floppy black hat hunched in the corner. His face is covered by a black leather plague doctor's mask, with the horn removed to make room for an actual beak, as black and sleek as cold iron.
The masked tengu speaks in a voice that is shrill and raspy. "Forgive the mask, but I have many enemies among the criminals and ne'er do-wells that haunted its twisted streets and tunnels and I cannot afford to have my identity revealed."
The vigilante stands up and walks around the room to look over his fellow Pathfinders. "I have dealt with traitors to the Pathfinder Society before and relish the prospect of purging our ranks of more treacherous malcontents. When these ill fruits are pruned from our branches, the tree of our great organization will grow and bloom."
"You may have gathered that I am adept at infiltration. I am also a capable combatant with bow and claws, although I better at finishing off an unaware foe then tangling with them one on one. Most importantly, like many of my kind, I am an expert of languages and speak many dead tongues. I wouldn't say I am exactly likeable but I can weave unassailable fortresses of deception and grandiose temples of flattery out of mere words."
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"As do I, as do I! It will be so much more interesting that way," Vangral answers Fifi as he shakes her hand. He is not quite so energetic as she is and he grasps her hand in both his own. His hands are rather cold and a bit clammy, his grip soft.
His eyes flick over her form and he crosses one arm over his chest, resting his other elbow on that hand while tapping his lips thoughtfully with a finger.
"Love the outfit. Have you considered darker colors? A deep crimson or midnight blue would contrast nicely with your skin tone."
He turns to the tengu when he pops up. "Oh a mask! How delightful. You know, I can never carry off masks. I'm so jealous. But I'm loving all this," he gestures over the man as they examine each other.
"Oh yes, Vautkeeper, I like them both, too. This is going to be so interesting," he says, apparently speaking to his doll.
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A tall, lean figure in a bright red coat and feathered cap enters, sword at his hip, and his clawed feet showing. Inspiration
"Ah! Hello, hello, hello, hello!" Orin Tarfoot Tallfeather says, shaking hands with each of them others in turns, then pulling his cap and setting it across his heart, "Betrayal is an act so fowl that it should be unthinkable! And yet, think of it we must!"
He restores his hat and capers to the side of the room taking up a position where he can see and be seen by everyone, "Ah! A fellow tengu!Good to have another of the folk along with me here, I am so used to being the only feathered friend in a group!"
"Greetings, greetings all- I am, for those of you unaware, Baronet Orin Tarfoot Tallfeather, and I am a bit of a jack of all trades, I can cut a jib, and slack a jaw with the best of them, or siddle up and shut em up and slide in sneak style if you want, but when the shots are fired and blades drawn, I do my best to give the rousing speech to cheer the group along!"
He again pulls his hat and bows elaborately, "I am, but of course, at your service."
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Fifi smiles at Vangral's suggestion and says-"Well, I got these little artifacts in Taldor - they're supposed to alter how I dress through illusion magic!"-as she turns the gems atop the sleeves, which changes her attire to a midnight blue dress, perfect for a late night cocktail.
She gives a small pirouette as she examines how it looks on her, and sighs-"I prefer the colors of the Dawnflower, after all"-as she makes the magic fade away and she returns to her usual gold and orange armor.
When seeing Orin, Fifi's eyes light up, seemingly amazed at his turn of phrase and fun diction-"How charming! I've never seen a man of such eloquence and charisma!"-she is unable to resist the urge to hug the tengu out of excitement.
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Vangral seems almost as thrilled by Orin's arrival as Fifi. The tengu get's that two handed shake, as well, the sensation a bit like having his hand clamped between two chilled cod.
"Ah, royalty amongst us. Just delightful! Perhaps we can skip the mission altogether and simply stay here and get to know each other better? Does anyone have a deck of cards? I find a good game the best way to really enjoy people's company," he says.
"Surely someone else can investigate Thurl's supposed treachery?"
He leans in to Fifi. "You'll have to show me that trick again sometime. I don't know if it's a wonder or something that will put me out of business."
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Fifi laughs, waving her hand in front of her face-"Nonsense, friend! For the Society has rallied us to the cause! To bring criminals to justice, and shine a light on their vile schemes!"-she says as her hair grows ever so slightly, as the paladin looks up at the sky.
Still, she smiles and says-"But the Everlight teaches to look for the oasis in the desert of work. I don't have cards, but how about some breakfast!"-as she pulls out a pound cake wrapped in beeswax cloth.
She uncovers it and cuts it with a small knife, sandwiching whipped cream and strawberries between two pieces of cake and giving them off to everyone-"Mother always said, always start a friendship through the stomach!"-she says laughing.
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The Ghostwriter responds to Vangral's compliment."Yes, it took awhile to get the mask just right. It took awhile to make something that would obscure my face while not restricting my vision or beak." Despite his appearance he is not unfriendly but does come off as somewhat awkward and strange.
"Hmmmm...this is a rather talkative group. I hope we can be quiet when the time is right. I prefer taking my foes unaware," the Ghostwriter muses anxiously.
The Ghostwriter actually seems a bit nervous to see another Tengu in the group and probes him for information. [b}"So Orin...where do you hail from? I'm usually pretty good at placing accents but I don't want to assume anything. Do you have any family Varisia?"[/b]
The Ghostwriter gingerly accepts a piece of Fifi's cake with a quiet thanks, sniffing it suspiciously before popping it into his beak and swallowing it without chewing.
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"Ah, yes! I understand your confusion, even for one as clearly skilled in languages as you are. It's rather an interesting story. I am originally from Tien, where my nestmates still reside, to the best of my knowledge, and which a careful examination of my blade would make clear, but I trained then in Ustalav and, as your clevel ear discerned, Varisia before earning my baronetcy in Taldor, which is now my place of residence."
Orin gently lifts a piece of the cake and pecks at it, "Marvelous, I do love a skosh of sweets in the morning. I thank you!" then turning back to the Ghostwriter, "But, friend, your origins I cannot myself discern. I suppose that owing to your desire for discretion I should consent myself to never know and not stick my beak in where its protrusion might cause undue stress or other, ah, stickyness."
Sighing, Orin continued, "Sadly, as charming as the company is, I fear we must investigate this basement lair."
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Vangral is more than a little impressed by Fifi's ability to whip up such a dish on the fly. Nonetheless, he does little more than nibble at a corner of the treat.
"The good Baronet is right. If it must be done, twas best done quickly," he says. "Shall we go investigate?"
"What? I didn't say it was original, Vaultkeeper, I just said it. And I don't see how I could have gotten it wrong when I don't even know who this spear shaker you're talking about is," Vangral begins another conversation with his doll.
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A slender man of Taldan descent enters thew lodge a bit out of breath. He drops his pack in the corner and hurries over to the others.
Terribly sorry for being late...just wrapped up a mission and got the summons to come here immeidtaely. I am Patros, of the Cassomir Therinors...delighted to meet you all. he says after looing over the collected group.
His appearance is that of a Taldan rondelero, a warrior adept with the deadly falcats, of which he carries 2...one of bright adamtine and the other of cold forged iron. His mithral shirt glints as he moves.
Ok, I'm caught up. Just need a mug of coffee and then good to go. he says, putting his long hair back in a tail and grabbing his pack.
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Fifi is surprised when Patros approaches, saying-"Hello good sir! Well met!"-she says as she gives him a piece of the pound cake to taste.
She extends her hand in a handshake and says-"The Cassomir Therinors, you say? Then you must be related to Shayna Therinor! I've adventured with her before - she is a lovely woman! Her fighting style is certainly something to admire!"-she says trying to mimic her stance loosely, obviously not proficient with the falcata.
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"A Therinor, eh? Everyone knows the Therinors! Good to have one of you at our side," Vangral chimes in.
He does not offer a hand shake but does give Patros a respectful nod of greeting.
"Even better one who knows his way around a weapon. My strengths do not lie in close combat so it is always best if I am surrounded by those who are talented in that arena."
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The Ghostwriter looks approvingly at Patros and Fifi's weaponry and responds to Vangral.
"Patros and Fifi seem to be capable warriors and my claws are sharp. Just try to give me room to move around the flanks and we should be able to take down any foe we run across. Keep yourself out of the way and we should be able to keep you safe, Vangral."
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"Ah, my fine feathered friend, I too prefer to work together in battle!" Orin checks that his crossbow is loaded, gently restoring it to the holster, "Ah, a falcata master? A marvelous blade, marvelous. I prefer to stab rather than slash, but it does allow a certain flourish. I look forward to watching you in battle!"
The Tengu nods to Toral, "Fear not my dwarven friend! We shall endeavor to enhance rather than diminish your reputation, or my name is Orin Tarfoot Tallfeather! Which it is."
Thurl’s Lodge is a modest structure that lies in the Egelsee district of Nerosyan. Once known as a contract site for cut-rate mercenaries, the building rarely sees visitors from the crusader host now. A single front door provides ingress, and any other doors or windows that might have existed long ago have been long since removed during Thurl’s renovations. A blacksmith and a local brewery flank the lodge.
Four workers hired by Jorsal are loading the last of the ground floor library’s books into a cart for transport back to Starrise Spire and later analysis. The foreman retrieves a small box for the group, informing them that Venture-Captain Jorsal predicted a team might have to explore the basement in his absence and that he wanted those agents to have a few extra tools at their disposal. The contents include a potion of cure moderate wounds, a scroll of perceive cues, an elixir of vision, and an antitoxin.
There is little else of interest on the ground floor. The heavy iron door that leads into the basement is undecorated and unlocked, but the foreman reports that until recently it practically glowed with Abyssal runes.
"You folks seem like you can take care of yourselves, but me's staying the abyss away."
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"By all means, let us accentuate our advantages," Vangral says, waving away the assorted items.
"Oh, you just know anything with those kind of protections has just got to be good! I can't wait to see what's inside!"
But before he actually follows Toral inside, he pauses and casts a spell on himself. There is a flash and a moment when it appears that he is covered in a translucent skeleton before it disappears.
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Fifi takes the antitoxin and says-"The Everlight's blessing guards me from all diseases and fear. However, poison still can damage my body."
She readies her shield and scimitar and marches forward, going in front of the group as she says-"Let us press on, then. These abyssal runes should have been guarding some secrets, so I'll keep my eyes peeled."-despite not being very perceptive!
A long set of dusty wooden stairs leads down into an equally untidy archive of tall shelves populated by crates, bins, and tomes. A handful of folios lay scattered about the room, concentrated most heavily near a large table that stands only about two feet tall.
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Toral looks at the books.
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Vangral's squeal is even more high pitched than the Ghost Writer's, but is not actually out of character for him. He claps his hands excitedly and rushes to one of the sets of shelves, putting Vaultkeeper on the shelf as he pulls out a tome and starts to review.
It almost seems like the little doll is staring at the rest of the group while the elf reads.