In short order, the pirates are whittled away. Vulpina makes it back to the team. Though chagrined, she is physically unharmed.
Melea {Galilah 10/37 hp}
Doran
Sadaf
Vulpina
Torku {22/31 hp}
Makras
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Torku taps himself with his blackened wand. ”At least you’ll be able to spot him if he shows back up,” he remarks to Melea cooly. ”But is that all? We were tasked with stopping the looting, yes, but we don’t know why they were targeting our ships specifically or how they were identifying them.”
It takes a few tries, but the tiefling is eventually able to draw the magic from his wand and start the process of healing his cuts and bruises.
C2. Common Room
The walls of this room barely keep out the elements yet somehow retain the smell of musk and sweat. A fireplace along the northern wall keeps some of the damp chill at bay, though vines riddle the mantel stones in a years-long endeavor to pry apart the structure. A table occupies the center of the room, its surface in need of a good cleaning and polish.
C4. Kitchen Camp
A low fire and the smell of simmering stew pushes back the pervading scent of must in this room, though it is otherwise in as poor shape as the rest of the house. Beyond the hearth and food preparation area, the room is devoid of other furnishings besides cots and a few shared footlockers, giving it a crude barracks air.
C5. Pantry
This room is stocked with sacks of beans, flour, and other consumables. Most are stale or spoiled. You surmise that the priest kept the food supply inedible to ensure his crew relied upon his casting of purify food and drink. A valuable leader fears no mutiny.
C6. Shrine to Besmara
By removing the door to this small room and widening the opening, someone has created a crude arch that frames a small shrine. Cobalt light spills from a dark blue glass lantern that hangs above a crude altar improvised from domestic furnishings. Candles on the altar flank a pewter mug and a bottle of rum, and behind the altar stands the wooden female figurehead of a ship. A black tricorn perched on her head at an angle partially shields her face from the lantern’s light.
C8. Dead Man’s Chest
There are nearly a dozen crates stacked inside this room, each one stamped with the Glyph of the Open Road and weighing approximately 100 pounds. These are supplies that Deremin has not yet had an opportunity to fence, and returning them to Venture-Captain Smine helps the Pathfinder Society quickly resume its shipments.
C7. Leader’s Retreat
Wall hangings, paintings, and rugs futilely endeavor to cover up this room’s mildewed surfaces, making it resemble a plague victim slathered with makeup for a funeral. A large bed in good condition sits in the room’s northwest corner, and a writing desk, chair, and small bookcase of damp wood round out the furnishings. The room is heavy with the smell of incense, which masks the omnipresent dank odor. A detailed search reveals a trapdoor in the floor which offers access to the marsh beneath the house.
Deremin’s logbook is lying in clear sight on his writing desk. It contains a detailed but somewhat choppy account of his career in piracy, and the past several months’ entries show that he switched his strategy from opportunistically targeting vessels at random to exclusively targeting Pathfinder shipments due to Helkit Silverbane’s instructions. The Besmaran is hardly discreet, and he regularly mentions Helkit in his writing.
In reading through the logbook, two entries in particular stand out.
Returning to Tymon is a relatively peaceful affair and takes approximately half a day of travel. Even though the Besmaran cleric escaped, he does not seem foolish enough to retaliate without reinforcements. By capturing the The Sea Queen’s Bounty , Demeliah waives the fees she’s owed by Holgarin Smine in exchange for the skiff—terms that Smine happily agrees to. Upon settling such matters, Smine listens intently to you as your report is given, clearly as enthralled by the adventure as by the Pathfinder Society’s business. Hearing Helkit’s name dampens his mood and causes him to furrow his brow.
“Well done. Everything I hoped for out there. Whatever else, our immediate enemies are done for. Hopefully gives anyone thinking about doing the same pause. But there’s the problem. There’ll be more, because they weren’t acting on their own." He chews his lip a bit before spitting. [b]"Helkit Silverbane—she’s a problem: Lots of money, lots of clout. She could just hire another group and hardly lighten her purse. We need to take this to her—make her see we’re more than she can handle. But going up against the bloodied... that’s like swimming upriver. Through piranha. Bleeding."
“Law’s not an option. First off, bankrolling pirates... barely a crime here—only if you get caught. Even with witnesses, she’s hardly red-handed. And bloodied’s word in court is worth lots more than words from captured bandits or the ones that caught them. Tymon’s got some hard laws, but this wasn’t really even in Tymon. It’s all... borderline. Don’t think we could make formal charges stick.”
Smine sips his cooling tea thoughtfully, the furrows of worry on his brow slowly evening out. “Got one option, if you want to take it. Can’t hit her in court... but Tymon wasn’t built on courts.” His eyes widen as he leans in close, “Ever heard of the Law of Grievance?”
With a wink, "So, whaddaya say? Interested in gettin' some payback?"
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"Yep. It's infectious." Torku jerks his head at the Venture Captain. "He wants us to challenge one of the most successful gladiators in this city to a duel. That she gets to set the terms for." Turning back to Smine, he scowls. "And I suppose you don't want us to reveal our affiliation with you until after we've won? Just in case this deck is stacked too heavily against us?" He pauses to spit to the side. "If you really wanted to send a message, you'd send a Seeker. Or get in the ring yourself."
He shakes his head, "Seeker's 'ave got better things to do with their time." He then points a finger at the occultist, "But yer not wrong. She's gotta know we mean business. I WANT her ta know who's picken' a fight with her. Shut her up. Hell, shut 'em ALL up! Let 'em all know that messin' with Pathfinders ain't good for long term health."
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Another flashback hits Vulpina like a stack of bricks. A duel, two blades. A hidden pistol. A swift exile.
”I do not believe I am our best option in this case,” Vulpina admits. ”I have been known to be.......... overly pragmatic.”
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Melea has also heard of this one, and shares Torku's misgivings. "Even if it could help, it's risky. She's combat-ready, I assume. Powerful politically, too, so she might be able to ignore concessions at her defeat despite the backlash.
"And if she sets the terms...is there anything encouraging her to keep it fair? She could choose single combat, or force us to eschew weapons."
"Well, sounds like all of you are in. Good." Smine sends an apprentice to locate Helkit. Within the hour the girl returns, stating Helkit is overseeing gladiatorial team training at the arena. Smine gives you your next task. "This next part is easy. All you need do is approach her, state your grievance, and challenge her under the law. Simple."
Even empty, the Arena of Aroden is an imposing sight that seems to magnify the sounds of clashing blades and grunts of exertion of a dozen sweaty, muscular men and women sparring on the sandy floor. The synergy of well-trained teamwork and combat style is apparent, though it falls short of the standards set by a tall, broad, iron-haired woman dressed in rich furs. “Watch your flanks, you ham-fingered dolts! Felex, if you leave your partner’s back uncovered again just to make a cheap swing, it’s your back I’ll break in two!” she roars at the gladiators. “Now hold! There’s company.” Turning in your direction, she snaps, “Who in Abaddon are you? The Silver Slayers have the training ground today.”
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Sadaf looks kind of impressed and a little insecure.
“We are Pathfinders and have come for you Helkit. Your involvement with stealing from us and damaging the Society has been revealed by the bandits you hired. The Society is not amused and will not tolerate such actions! You are challenged under the law!“ Sadaf says calmly and he tries to feel the reaction.
All of the training comes to a stop as Sadaf accuses Helkit. She laughs derisively at the uncertain dwarf. "Look alive gladiators. This is what soft meat looks like." They join in mocking and catcalling. Sadaf is certain it is partly because they are arrogant, and partly due to the fact that she made a joke and its safer to join in. "What a reprehensible and ragtag pile of refuse you are." She looks past everyone to make eye-contact with Doran. "You're a coward. You let a priest do your talking? Why not the failed angel wanna be or demon-blooded lout who was no doubt adandoned by it's mother, assuming the horns and cloven hoofs didn't tear her in half when she bore it." Her gaze then passes to Vulpina. "Letting a man, such as he is, speak for you? Better run back to the kitchen and lace up your apron girl. This ain't no place for you."
Helkit continues her tirad, "Accusing someone is a serious undertaking. I'm not certain the captain of the guard in this town is likely to listen to a bunch of never-has-been's and never-will-be's. Good luck filing your charges though. The thought that someone of my status being linked to such lowly and petty business. I think you will have quite a difficult time proving anything in court." She adds, "Run along now. This is a place for real warriors. I would hate for any of you to be mistaken as such."
She shakes her head as she barks out a guffaw. "I've never heard anyone describe themselves so aptly. Warm butter indeed. A sickly yellow gob melting into a pool of uselessness. Still, my blade will go right through you just the same."
"Look, we're busy here. Stop wasting our time. Go find someone else to cry at."
Sadaf gets the feeling that she wants the Pathfinders to leave before they figure something out. As if you are close to something.
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Vulpina chuckles. "It is all right, Helkit. If you so fear the Pathfinders that you would avoid a direct challenge, that is only in keeping with your past actions. I would let a man speak for me, sure-- but letting common bandits fight for you? How very cowardly of you. And to think, they left a paper trail a mile wide. Ah, but 'to think'-- such an interesting turn of phrase. You did not think this through, did you?"
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Doran yawns as the gladiatrix spews her discontent.
I'm sorry...did you say something? I saw your mouth move but all I heard was blah blah blah. I am sure you have to show strength in front of your...minions? Underlings? What are they...wannabe warriors? You'll have to do a bit more than that to annoy me. Batter have tried...all have faild... he says coolly
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"You seem eager to run us out of town, at this level and as an organization," Melea adds. "This shows that somehow, we are better acquainted with Tymon's rules than you. We are free to be here and air our grievances." She puts extra emphasis on the last word, hoping it pierces Helkit's thick skull.
The aasimar notices the ploy Makras is trying to pull, and goes along with it for now. Maybe she's tired of trying otherwise. But this time it could work out in everyone's favor.
Her surprised expression curls into a sneer. “Very well, I accept. Some fights are already scheduled for two days from now. We’ll settle this then. As challenged, I set the terms: Group battle—you lot against me and my Slayers. No limits on weapons or magic. Public arena fight, on the shifting sands—and you should know I’ve never lost on those.” She glances at her trainees for a moment before reluctantly adding, “No need for a death match. The challenge may be decided by yielding. Anyone losing their nerve can call it off for their team.” She smirks. “Mind you, that won’t be anyone on my side. I don’t train cowards.”
The Arena of Aroden
During this time, you have an opportunity to learn about your opponents by asking around about Helkit’s and her Silver Slayers’ reputations.
Diplomacy (gather information) or Knowledge (local)
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Vulpina smirks as Helkit takes the bait. Finally. I thought we would have to stand there insulting each other for hours. I’ve ridden between Torku and Korum often enough to have my fill of that.
Vulpina relays the information she gleans to the team at their semi-regular meet-ups as they spend the next couple of days in town.
”The way I see it, Helkit is our main target. Cut off the head and the rest will be little threat,” she suggests. ”Not literally, of course. Unless the mood strikes, I suppose. Arena combat—it is hard to be certain of the etiquette...”
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”Surprise surprise, her favorite arena has hidden pits,” Torku announces sourly over dinner. ”As it’s unlikely they rebuild the arena each time someone wants to use it, she probably knows exactly where each hole is. Home turf advantage.” He starts listing off other ways the deck is stacked against them, counting on his fingers for emphasis. ”Then there’s how she apparently can enlarge herself. Giant size advantage. She won in her early days using large animals such as rhinoceroses, and probably still has a stable full of them. Beast advantage. She’s a favorite of the crowds here and will use that to either bolster her morale or get away with brazen cheating. Home team advantage. And her slayers are well-rehearsed and favor ‘exotic weapons’, which doesn’t mean much when spoken by a drunken minstrel who’s probably never seen the outside of this musclehead village, but does mean we don’t know what kinds of weapons and tactics they favor. Surprise tactics advantage.”
His fingers fully accounted for, he curls them into a fist and slams them down on the table. ”So, how do we counter those? I don’t suppose anyone has mastered flight, but perhaps we have some way to make the traps in the floor visible to everyone? Sadaf, can you conjure elementals of earth as well as wind? I can create an area of darkness to put them at a disadvantage, but who can see through that? Or do we have magic to enhance feeble eyes? I didn’t see any spellcasters in her group, but she wouldn’t have allowed magic without restrictions if she didn’t have some of her own.“ The tiefling scowls at the uneaten food in his bowl, tail thumping the floor next to him.
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”Agreed, but then we’ve let her pin us in place,” Torku answers with a nod. ”Of course, we could always attempt to make her believe we’re afraid to move and then give her a nasty surprise - but that’ll be rather unimpressive if someone goes tumbling straight into a pit.” He doesn’t look directly at the dwarf snoring and drooling on the table, but it’s clear who he means.
The quill in Markras' hand fails to move. Perhaps this is itself proof that all these efforts are for naught.
Later in the following afternoon, Smine gathers you to go over the ground rules.
Ground Rules
The Arena of Aroden and Tymon as a whole use numerous rules to maintain the integrity of the arena, and a few in particular apply to your upcoming combat.
• Participants may cast preparatory spells before entering the arena but otherwise cannot use magic, activate items, or drink potions until the combat officially begins. This translates to 10 minutes of time checking in with the arena manager, suiting up, reviewing the rules, and verbally acknowledging these rules before stepping out into the fighting space.
• Magical flight and climbing the walls and columns is permitted, but only to the level of the grandstands . Going any higher is considered unsporting, presents a risk to the spectators, and is grounds for disqualification. Violators receive a single warning and slow count to three before being disqualified.
• The combat conditions established by Helkit allow either team to give up should any participant declare that he yields. Doing so grants victory to the opposing team.
• The combat is not, strictly speaking, a death match, but participants are not held accountable for killing their opponents.
"You seem like a fairly bright lot. Anything need clearing up? Now's the time to ask."