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Your boots squash with fetid water as you plod through the puddles. A thick fog hangs in the air, seeming almost to caress the flesh with an unnatural chill. As you stand outside the Soggy Piper in a foot and a half of brackish brine, you try to recall what was so damned important to demand your presence in the halfflooded slum during Absalom’s rainy season. You remember your meeting at the Lodge just a few hours earlier with your Venture-Captain, Adril Hestram.
A bear of a man with only a few teeth remaining in his head, he motioned you into the meeting hall with a casual wave of his grizzled hand. The human captain outweighs most of Absalom’s half-orcs, and though a layer of beefy blubber coats his frame, those of you who have tangled with him in the Lodge sparring ring know that beneath this thin veneer of fat lies nothing but solid, steely sinew. Adril’s wild beard wags to the ponderous shake of his massive head as he examines a scrap of ancient parchment on the table before raising his eyes to greet your gaze and speaking:
"Come in then, friends, and thank you for answering my summons so swiftly. The society is in need. An old and quite penniless historian, a bespectacled wag-beard by the name of Yargos Gill has recently made a discovery in an old archive that we have a great interest in obtaining: an ancient codebook, left behind in the wake of one of Taldor’s many failed attempts at invasion. This several-hundred-year-old text would prove an excellent addition to our collection, and must be preserved. Yargos makes his home in ‘The Puddles,’ Absalom’s poorest district, suffering from a well-known reputation as a haven for lowlifes. Following an earthquake ten years ago, parts of the Puddles now rest below sea level, resulting in frequent and untimely flooding. Those who can afford not to live there—don’t. The district is the stomping ground of pimps, harlots, addicts, knifers, and hoards of unseemly derelicts. It’s never been a kind place, but recent reports reveal some new nameless terror on her waterlogged streets. Several persons claim to have seen cloaked, skeletal-like figures marching through an unnatural fog. Ill tidings indeed. Tracking down Yargos is now a priority - lest some yellow-toothed thug cut him down, or one of these strange wraiths carry him beyond the pale. Find him, fellow Pathfinders, and find the codebook. Your exploits will be recorded in the Chronicles if you succeed."
The memory fades as a fresh deluge of cold seawater rounds a bend in the lane and assaults your knees. After searching for Yargos at his favorite eatery, the Soggy Piper, you learned you just missed him. According to the Piper’s staff, a gang of dangerous young tattooed toughs arrived ahead of you. They grabbed Yargos and several of his friends from their dinner table and dragged them to a nearby cliff at the edge of the Puddle District. The watch was called, but they will arrive too late, as they often do in the Puddles, when they bother to venture there at all.
It is early evening, the first Wealday of the month of Desnus, an old man is about to face some awful fate at the sea cliff known as Torsen’s Maw, and you are no closer to finding the codebook Adril sent you for.
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The Torsen's Maw is very well known in Absalom. You get a good description how to get there.
The larger man serving the drink comes around and gives you a pint, "You drinkin' lad? O'coure ye are. Torsen's Maw? It's that short stubby sea cliff not too far from the Soggy Piper, just a little east o' here!"
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Of course, sir...we will find him. Theron says confidently. Himself no small man, but still doesn't match up to the grizzled veteran. He looks at the others collected. We might be in for a scrap...keep your eyes and ears open. And your weapons ready...
How many miscreants took the old man away? Ahh, won't matter...I'll have to bash their faces in regardless...[ooc]Good to go...just have to edit my gear..spending money....my save earlier didn't take...must have left it open too long...[ooc]
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"Yep,just forward the watch to Torsen's Maw, sir and we will see if we can keep this from being a bad day for all." This comes from a tall, tan skinned man dressed in travelers clothes and breast plate. A holy symbol of depicting a bow hangs from his belt.
"There will be lots of drinks here later if we can get ol' Yargos back. You bet."
The man hefts a heavy mace on his shoulder and heads for the door.
"It seems like a good time to check out the view from the cliffs."
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"Let's go, then. If we hurry perhaps we can make it." Iladora's boots squelch wetly with each step. She's not at all thrilled about spending more time in the dank streets of the aptly-named Puddles District, but to the others she says nothing of this. It's a wonder this whole side of town isn't wracked with disease. My old-- a certain someone would have a field day here. Her long white hair falls around her shoulders, though its dark roots belie its true color. She wears a breastplate and a wooden shield, and her assortment of weapons completes the image of a woman not to be trifled with.
She offers the bartender her thanks, and a smile that her face seems unaccustomed to offering, as they head out into the streets again.
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The barkeep grins, "Eh, who know's how 'any there were. You 'xpect me to remember the runt that comes through these 'alls? Yargos is a regular, but 'es always gettin' into trouble." And those are the last words the man has time to give you, as another group of sailors come in for him to serve.
You make your way out into the wet streets. It is a fairly direct route, you have to be fast. If you run, it's about 15 minutes to reach the cliff.
You make your way to the cliff just in time. From far you can see six brash young toughs covered with tattoos of vicious, snarling dogs are prodding four terrified older men off the edge of a cliff into the sea. The prisoners are shackled together in a line with heavy chains, which shall surely drag them to the sea floor in short order should they tumble from the cliff’s edge into the churning waters below.
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I have an idea... Theron says, dropping his pack and shield. He grabs a bar-like item that was strapped to his pack. It shifts form into a large pick.
I'm going to run in and jam this into the ground, trapping the chain with it. Then we deal with those fools. Maybe draw one or two away from the pack.... he says with a small grin as he holds his blade and the pick each in a beefy hand.
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"Sounds good," she agrees with Theron. "You anchor the prisoners, I'll handle the thugs."
Without further hesitation, Iladora rushes toward the cliff's edge and draws her longsword. "Leave them be," she snarls. Time was, her glower could force demons to their knees; now, even against these low-life humans she doubts it will do anything but antagonize.
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The group of thugs react just how you would expect them to, "Who ye callin' a coward - huh? You shouldn't be here! Get out of 'here before someone gets 'urt!" They take out a combination of daggers, and cross bows and point them in your direction.
Round 1
@ Grakkahn (Shield)
@ Theron (-)
@ Iladora (-)! War Hounders (yellow, orange, blue, green, pink, red)
@ Lybram[/b] (-)
@ Alton[/b] (-)Grakkahn, Theron and Iladora may act!
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Grakkahn moves forward.
The thug facing Iladora raises his dagger, as he smacks it dealing light damage to the weapon but not destroying it completely. "Boys! They be picken for a fight! Let get' em!"
"What about these ol' farts?" One of the gang members growls out, tugging at the chain.
"Them? Just kick em' overboard." As a second thug members pushes the chained man closest to the cliff over the edge. There are a few shouts, but one of the men hangs onto the ledge as he get's his chain hooked on the rock.
.. vs Lybram
.. vs Iladora
The thugs find easy targets versus the cleric, but their attacks jump off of Iladora. "Yeah! You're scared now, aren't ya?"
Round 2
@ Lybram (-) -5
@ Alton (-)
@ Grakkahn (Shield)
@ Theron (-)
@ Iladora (-)! War Hounders (yellow, orange, blue, green, pink, red)
Everyone may act!
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Theron moves and knocks out the thug engaged with Iladora. The ranger steps forward, and knocks the crossbow out of pink's hands and into the water, before knocking him on his butt.
The orange thug looks like he's had a little too much to drink, as his head starts spinning from Lybrams punch. "Yeee...who do yee think ye' are ... punk?" He goes for a swing with his weapon, before falling unconsious.
With his crossbow destroyed, pink raises his hands and green follows suit. "Please, we 're just followin' orders! Let's joost call 'et a nigh' - what do ye say?" Their surrender is made even more obvious as yellow dropps his dagger and runs past Grakkahn's glaive !
The captives still hang onto the ledge, and you hear them cry for help, "HEEELP! PLEASE!"
Round 3
@ Lybram (-) -5
@ Alton (-)
@ Grakkahn (Mage Armor)
@ Theron (-)
@ Iladora (-)! War Hounders (yellow ,
orange, blue, green surrendering, pink surrendering,red)Everyone may act!
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The rest of the thugs surrender, and as they see you focusing on raising the prisoners off of the cliff, they bolt in the opposite direction.
Lifting the four hanging men off from the ledge take a little more effort than you expected, but you eventually manage. They throw themselves over onto the wet and muddy earth, praying that they made it out of that situation alive.
Finally, a man about 70 years old, wearing a suit stands up. You notice this suit has been repaired a lot of times as you can see small holes in the garment. "Thank you for saving us, we are in your debt. Who knew my evening would turn to such chaos, ey? I'm Yargos, by the way - and who might you be?"
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Lybram collects his things like his heavy mace and any of the thugs weapons.
He then pulls out his wand and waves it over the arrow scrape and the knife slash.
"Great! Just the man we are looking for. I am Lybram Tendras, currently working as a member of this Pathfinder Society team. We were sent to find you and ask about a history book you recently found."
Lybram looks puzzled. He continues ahead anyway. "Yep, they want your book my friend and we will take you and it to them. You all can work out some kind of business deal for it." "I think." "Anyway...let's get you cleaned up and we will escort you right over."
"Who are your friends by the way?"
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The man looks about the group, and nods at Alton and Iladora, "And you have my gratitude. Alton, the Wizard, i see, how small of a package they come in these days!" He laughs out loud, but you can sense there is no hostility there, only a casual joke. "But seriously, you must be the Pathfinders that Captain Hestram sent? I talked to Captain Hestram about the codebook I found, and promised to give it to the society, but I don't have this book any more. A man called Nessian took it."
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Grakkahn shakes hands with Yargos, before starting to search the unconscious thugs. They have nothing remarkable on them, and only a few gold pieces between them.
Yargos shakes his head, "Yes, we need to find Nessian, but unfortunately i do not know where his hide out is. To be honest, only one man in Absalom would be able to know where that criminal is - Grand Master Torch. You heard of him?"
...
"If you are curious about what happened, let me tell you a story. it is long, but I hope you have some time to listen..." and Yargos starts to tell you what happened.
Eight hundred years ago, a hidden armada of ships from Taldor floated off the coast of the Isle of Kortos like a thousand locusts, waiting for the signal to invade Absalom. The plan was simple, but deadly: When the misty weather of Desnus (May) took hold, a fifth column of infiltrators known as Black Echelon would weaken strategic defense points and destroy Absalom’s warning system from within. Once their bloody mayhem was complete, the hidden saboteurs planned to signal the fleet, welcoming them to lay siege to a city now brought to its knees.
Prearranged signal lights were prepared for each phase of the offensive. A red flashing light was the sign for Black Echelon to poison Absalom’s granary. A violet light with three pulses was the signal for a prearranged team to destroy the city’s bell towers, and so on. But when the mists of Desnus descended, the prearranged signal lights never appeared. Unbeknownst to the hidden strike teams, the leaders of the Black Echelon infiltration cell were discovered and assassinated by brave heroes of Absalom. The signal lanterns lay dark, and the rest of Black Echelon sat idle. Several hours later, the fleet’s hiding place was discovered. A quick counterattack by Absalom’s navy ambushed the would-be invasion force and Taldor’s armada was destroyed to the last mast. In the coming weeks, Absalom’s constabulary rooted out the remaining hidden members of Black Echelon and put every last one to the sword.
The failed invasion mission, called the Silent Tide, would have amounted to little more than a cautionary footnote in a textbook of naval battles save for one crucial detail: Prior to entering Absalom, each member of the Black Echelon cell swore an ancient oath, known as the Binding Word. Black Echelon pledged to fulfill their duties, no matter the barrier, no matter the cost. And as recent events have begun to demonstrate, in this case, the power of the Binding Word compels these deadly saboteurs from beyond the pale.
"Unfortunately I did something stupid. When I found the code book I replicates some of the signals on a lark." Yargos continues "I soon watched in horror as Black Echelon rises from the dead and begins to fulfill the tasks the spies swore to complete so very long ago. Even worse, the marines of the massive armada that now rest on the sea floor have also sworn the Binding Word. Once Black Echelon finishes its final task, the invasion force will rise and the Silent Tide will roll across the city, bringing death to all of Absalom. Itried to alert the city and avert disaster. But before I could get rid of the codebook, a young crime lord named Nessian stole the book. We have to find Nessian and the book, the book contains an abort code, if we are able to light the master abort code we can stop the invasion once and forever."
You can see fear in Yargos' eyes.
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Iladora instinctively moves her hand to the hilt of her longsword as they walk, listening to Yargos' story. "So getting this abort code will lay to rest an army of the dead?" Sounds like just the sort of mission Iladora had been waiting for. I hope you're listening, she silently prays. I hope you're howling with rage.
"What else can you tell us about Nessian? So we know what we're up against."
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Iladora releases her sword hilt and a smile passes across her lips. "I swore an oath to rid the world of all the undead I can find. It's... a bit of a story. But this mission will make myself and my goddess very happy.
"What about you?" She nods toward the glaive on his shoulder. "I notice you're quite good with that."
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"Yargos, I have a magical prayer or ability that I can heal scrapes, bumps, and bruises, small stuff. Would you like me to use it on you? Those gang folk weren't all that gentle it looks like."
Lybram reaches over and lightly places his hand on Yargos's shoulder and says a quick prayer.
"Never know when Nessian's men might appear. So let's heal you some."