As you all gather up and wait on your new instructions, you can't help but to take in the sights of the Grand Lodge. You are all a new generation of Pathfinders and while still green, you have gained experience and knowledge of Golarion on your assignments. As you pass one of Skyreach Tower's convocation halls, you can't help but wonder what would have happened if you had made different choices on the day you all became full-fledged Pathfinder agents with the skills and knowledge that you have today...
Several months ago...
|----|----|----|----|
As you reach the room, it seems as though the entire Grand Lodge has the air of a celebration. The great gates are flung wide, and the phoenix
trees lining the entryway are in full flame. The halls of the main tower of Skyreach, normally somber and reserved, echo with the sound of voices and music. The great ballroom is decked for a celebration, with colorful banners and bunting along the walls, tables replete with food and drink, and a jovial cacophony of conversation rising from Pathfinders of all ancestries, nations, and backgrounds.
After a quick scan of the room, it’s obvious that many of the attendees have gathered in small groups here and there. A half-orc woman in an iconic ship captain’s hat stands near the punch bowl, handing cups to anyone who passes within reach, and a dark-skinned half-elf leads a small group of new agents around the room, introducing them to other attendees. Several senior agents stand in quiet conferral with a dark-haired Taldan man with a distinctive chin strap beard, while a scholarly dwarf tells a rousing tale to a growing audience.
A familiar blond halfling woman bounces over, bubbling with excitement. Janira Gavix, Head Initiate of the Pathfinder Society, grins, “Oh, I’m so glad you made it! After all, the celebration is for you. Have you gotten drinks? Snacks? Be sure to spend some time getting to know everyone —it’s best to be on good terms with the movers and shakers in the Society, that’s how you learn about the latest opportunities. I’ll be here if you need me to help you with anyone’s names or to make an introduction. Just let me know how I can help!”
Janira gestures everyone forward into the room, beaming all the while.
|
Bert steps warily into the room, looking about to see if his mate Inzo is around. The lodge is so far, so foreign, from the long-distant pines and snowbanks of the north.
He nods his thanks to Janira's friendly welcome: "Oh aye, drinks. Snacks too, I'd hew down a wall for a half-chewed, month-old piece of reindeer jerky right 'bout now."
"Say," he juts a thumb in the direction of the scholarly dwarf. "I dun remember that fella, though might be me expertise an' his ain't grow in the same forests, yeh know. Who is he?"
"Also, yeh seen Inzo about? Gotta make sure he don't get in too much trouble now."
|
|
Weaving his way through the crowd, Inzo is wide eyed. It's one of the first times he's been in the grand ballroom, and imposter syndrome is in full swing.
Awkwardness turns to excitement however, when he spots his old co-worker in the crowd. Breaking into a run, sliding under a table, and leaping from a stray chair, Inzo grapples Bert from the back.
"Beeeeeert!" Inzo holds on tight no matter Bert's reaction. Being used to trees thrashing in the wind, Bert's movements are no problem. "No slugs, but the cakes are lovely."
|
|
Bert tries to throw Inzo's flailing form over his shoulder but the dwarf was never the agile sort and can't get a proper grip on his new goblin backpack to throw him off.
"Get off mate, we look a bloody loony pair the two o' us like this. If'n only we had someone respectable around t' make us look 'alf-decent in comparison, someone lordly an' noble-like with a title an' all," Bert muses, scratching at his beard as he surveys the crowd. "An' while I'm wishin' away maybe he'd be the kinda fellow to pay for a dwarf's drinks an' a goblin's slugs, y'know 'ow it is."
A somewhat crazed look crosses his face; an eye twitches, nostrils flare, and his beard trembles in excitement: "An' even better idea just struck me - didn't 'urt though - what if'n you weren't even the only one of yer tribe at this shindig, now that'd be enough crazy to bring the tone down enough that we'd seem plenty normal."
Bert wonders how much different things might've been with some better company upon their first adventure...
|
|
Lord Gabros Orlozsky stands alone, a little apart from the mingling groups.
As a newly field commissioned agent he knows no one here. His niece and the venture captain who mentored her had been called away on urgent missions leaving him feeling like a fish out of water.
His hand rests lightly on the elegant hilt of a long sword, commonly seen among the Aldori Swordlords.
At least I am allowed to wear my sword in here. I am truely glad I managed to keep hold of it during my travels.
He looks around the hall in wonderment at the kaleidoscope of races and ethnicities on show.
A ball in a grand hall should be second nature to me but this is to the courts of Brevoy what a fireworks display is to a candelabra
His introspection is cut short as he has to step quickly out of the way of a flailing dwarf with a goblin on his back.
|
|
Bert gives up on tugging at Inzo and holds up his hands in contrition and apology to the well-dressed, fine-figured fellow he almost bowled over.
"Sorry 'bout that mate, jus' a regular greetin' where we come from," he says, eyeing up the newcomer. Unable to hide the gleeful grin that spreads across his face, he ducks aside to whisper to Inzo: "Look at this'n, he's proper fancy he is. Would give us a respectability no-one could deny. An' he has a sword."
He coughs, poorly hiding the laugh bubbling up and turns back to Gabros. "You a new Pathfinder too then? Maybe we should stick together, us new ones, share the expertise an' the like. I'm Bert an' this mug is Inzo."
Ugh I'm talking too much, like a regular mummer's troop here. Blather on any more and we'll just look even more like clowns.
Janira smiles. "It's great you're starting to meet up with everyone. Anyway, about your question, that's Gorm. He's actually quite friendly and likes to tell jokes and tales. He's... like that odd uncle we all have. Would you like to meet him?" Janira says this as she's basically dragging you all towards him.
Gorm Greathammer is in the middle of a conversation with one of the servitors when you arrive.
"Uhm, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"I'm actually quite interested in your income and expenses on a weekly basis. Care to indulge me on that?"
"Well, that's rather inappropriate..."
"Just scholar— Oh hello Janira. Brought the new blood over? Hello hello!", he says addressing you with a sly grin on his face. "Gorm Greathammer, at the service of all who seek to be educated! And my, it seems as if you are eager to learn, eh?"
|
|
Gabros smiles warmly, the fact these two were not being thrown out for their antics suggested a pleasantly relaxed tone.
"It is not a problem. It is a pleasure to meet you Master Bert, Master Inzo." He bows slightly. "Yes I am indeed a new Pathfinder. Very new in fact, I have not had any training here at your renowned schools. I believe the term is 'Field Commissioned'. However that does mean that with our introductions the number of Pathfinders I have properly met has now increased to four."
----
"It would be an honour to make the acquaintance of Gorm." Gabros says in an attempt to rationalise his forced inclusion.
|
|
Bert screws up his face at Gabros's technical term: "Huh, what do ye mean by "Field Commissioned"? Ye proved ye had the skills t' someone 'igh up the Pathfinder totem pole an' they dobbed you in on the spot? 'ow'd that all 'appen? Seems like it'd be a mighty tale perfect for sharin' over a drink or many."
He follows - fairly willingly - as Janira drags them to make Gorm's acquaintance, nodding politely to the dwarf as he tries to figure out what the man's deal is.
"You do much o' the educating 'round 'ere then, Gorm? Is that where the sayin' 'gormless' comes from, 'cause if someone ain't got any Gorm then they ain't been educated properly?"
Gorm smiles genuinely at Bert, his whole face lighting up as he regards the lumberjack.
"My, my! A learned man after my heart. Yes, "gorm" or "gaum" means understanding so gormless would be without or with very little understanding. I like you. Perhaps you'd like to do a little favor for me? As a way to cement your position as a new member of the Society. Think of it as a final exercise before you're a fully bodied agent. What say you?"
|
|
"Huh. This is like the chicken an' the egg, which came first: yer name, or the meanin' of it? Did yer parents know you were gonna be all scholarly an' name you as such, or did you become all scholarly because they named ye Gorm?"
Bert scratches at his beard as the conundrum drives him deep in thought. He surfaces in a moment after realising that he ought to answer the question before delving too deep.
"A favour? Oh aye, we can do that, can't we lads?" He glances between Gabros and Inzo for approval.
|
Uncle Nazgub is not very comfortable at this high-society event, and so he naturally gravitates to the thing he's most comfortable with: the band.
This is somewhat to the detriment of the poor band leader, though, who finds his music choices being Bardsplained to him while he conducts and politely weathers the fountain of unasked for Musical Lore being sprayed across him.
"No no no that's a Brevoy formal courting song, it's supposed to be light and airy, you're playing it like a Saga Lands war march, you might as well just kick your violinist to death with plate boots!"
The violinist looks a little nervous at this, and the piper isn't much happier.
After several minutes of Uncle failing to take the hint, the conductor waves his wand unseen over's Uncle's head at a page to get that page's attention, then points it downwards. The page grabs a second page as reinforcement and the two firmly grasp Uncle by his upper arms with white-gloved hands and usher him away from the band.
Pausing for a moment by the food table, they spot another Frostfur goblin and manoeuvre Uncle neatly into the circle of conversation next to him.
"Oh, hello nephew." He peers at Gorm, and hums a few bars of the dwarven mining tune "Diggy diggy hole" to himself. "Who is this then?"
"Gorm Greathammer, at your service. I'm a dealer of knowledge you could say and my, that 'Diggy diggy hole' song has an interesting story that I'm sure you might know", he tells Uncle with a wink.
"Now", he turns towards Bert, "Hope you boys aren't squeemish. One of my agents has told that a scholar at the Collage of Mysteries has been working on potentially dangerous research. What kind of research has been kind of vague, which is truly vexing! All we know is that it's based on scrolls from Nidal. I wish to know what these scrolls are. Not the originals, though! Ancestors fend! They might be made of humanoid skin. No, no. Just the reproductions will do. So what say you? Up to the task?", he asks with a twinkle in his eye.
|
|
"I certainly do know. It still concerns me that dwarves are subject to such stereotypes, but they have taken such prejudices and made them their own, thus robbing them of power."
He sighs, his mood shifting to a momentary gloom.
"Suckled from a teat of stone indeed. But I suppose my own people found acceptance via the same path of ridicule, and one day may well be as respected as dwarves."
He brightens up again.
"Usually I'm copying music, not text, but my penmanship is excellent and I'm certain I'm up to the task. Nothing like a good mystery. Nidal though? No good tunes out of there for centuries."
|
|
"Hope you boys aren't squeemish. One of my agents has told that a scholar at the Collage of Mysteries has been working on potentially dangerous research. What kind of research has been kind of vague, which is truly vexing! All we know is that it's based on scrolls from Nidal. I wish to know what these scrolls are. Not the originals, though! Ancestors fend! They might be made of humanoid skin. No, no. Just the reproductions will do. So what say you? Up to the task?"
Realising that remaining clung to Bert's back, boisterous as it is, is not welcome at an event like this. Inzo had come to be a Pathfinder, and that means straightening the trunk as it were.
Sliding down Bert's back, Inzo reaches out a boney hand to Gorm. "My name is Inzo, and I keep Bert out of trouble. Pleased ta meetcha." Shaking his hand vigorously, he listens to this job.
"Ain't nothing squeamish about this pair. I tell you, we've seen our fair few sights. Couple o' lost fingers, foot with gangrene and the like. Workplace hazards they are, and we're ready." After a pause, Inzo's eyes glance around. "Wait, you are a pathfinder right? I just realised the mystery school could be something different. I'm here to be the best ya see."
|
|
"Find an' copy some scrolls of a dubious nature? Sounds like a job fer us. An' lemme tell yeh, I spent a few winters sleepin' in the same tent as this fella-" he jabs a thumb at Inzo for emphasis, "-so squeamish ain't an' issue with me or 'im."
He scratches his beard, thinking. "Now if'n only we 'ad some fella who knew a whole bunch o' stuff about everythin' an' anythin' an' would be keen as a new-honed axe to get his hands on some scrolls... well slap my behind an' call me a donkey, ain't that your Uncle Nazgub there Inzo? I remember you havin' yer issues in the past but by Desna's shinin' smile I think he's been sent to sort out the lack of thinkin' and knowledge in our group."
|
|
"It's true, but slug-kombucha summer was a great time."
When Bert continues and refers to his uncle, Inzo shudders. "Aw man, but he's such a hassle to have around. With all the cymbals falling off, to the songs I have to remember. Did you see how long he spoke to the band?"
Sighing, he picks up his shoulders and says "Alright, well if he starts talking about five-six-four-seven timing for his latest ballad you get to hear the merits of it."
Inzo runs off to go get uncle and pull him of over
"Uncle! Uncle! I didn't know you were here. I'm here with a co-worker" he turns back and looks at the stout lumberjack "Actually, a friend. We've just been given a job and I need you to help us with some Nidalese scrolls. I don't actually know what, don't read and all, but I saw you reading sheet music. I know you don't fear the words searing your brain. Could you help us? Just, no music this time."
|
|
"Hello nephew," says Uncle, wondering once again if he ever had as much energy as Inzo exudes on a constant basis.
"...and hello, nephew's friend, who he didn't actually introduce by name, but I assume has one. A pleasure I'm sure, your patience is appreciated and, I'm certain, must be mined from a very expansive vein."
He snags an hors d'oeuvre from a passing plate with a smooth flick of his tail.
"Serve the Pathfinder Society? Of course, of course, that's why we're all here."
|
|
"...and hello, nephew's friend, who he didn't actually introduce by name, but I assume has one. A pleasure I'm sure, your patience is appreciated and, I'm certain, must be mined from a very expansive vein."
"The name's Bert," he greets the new goblin with a deep nod of the head. "Ha, patient. Ain't no-one ever called me that 'afore. Nah, Inzo an' I we just go back y'know, been through a lot and can stick through thick 'n' thin. Like a couple a gnarled roots that ain't had the sense to grow elsewhere an' now are stuck together forever."
Bert sizes up the merry band, and muses quietly: "Now we jus' need someone to tell us when we're doin' somethin' awful stupid, an' or heretical. A pint-size priest would do the trick... ah well."