Kreighton Shaine, an eccentric elf and the Pathfinder Society’s Master of Scrolls, sets a vibrant orchid atop his cluttered desk. Looking up in acknowledgement, he comments, “A beautiful flower, no?” Without hesitating, he gestures to a chairless room, saying, “Please, sit down.” At this, Master Shaine sits cross-legged on the floor and begins the mission briefing as though nothing were out of the ordinary.
“Every year, representatives from Thuvia auction off six vials of the Sun Orchid Elixir. Each bid — even the losing bids — are added to the wealth of the city holding the auction. This year the city of Lamasara runs the auction, and its chosen guardian, Ofarah Ohatepe, is visiting Absalom as we speak. An invitation to a birthday banquet to be held in her honor at the Thuvian Embassy arrived at the Grand Lodge a fortnight ago. The invitation requests that representatives from the Pathfinder Society attend the gala, and the Decemvirate has chosen you - but be warned, this is no mere excuse for revelry."
“We believe that Ohatepe has ulterior motives in inviting her other guests to this event. What they are we don’t know, but we want you to find out. Get on her good side and see what she’s after. While the Society as an organization has little interest in the Sun Orchid Elixir, many among the Ten might, and one can’t discount the fact that the so-called Lioness of Lamasara invited us — well, you, as the case may be — to her birthday dinner. So put on your finest clothes, go to the Thuvian Embassy in the Petal District, and be on your best behavior!”
Master Shaine continues sitting serenely; an awkward silence fills the room like a Gnomish toy balloon. Do you have any questions before departing?
|
First a wedding, now a dinner party. I'm beginning to like these Society contracts. Hopefully, it doesn't involve as much combat as the wedding though.
Syl'las sits on a pillow, allowing her gown to spill over the floor in its entirety. She appears human, although her eyes give away her true heritage.
"What can you tell us about the Lioness?" Syl'las asks, breaking the silence.
"What can you tell us about the Lioness?" Syl'las asks, breaking the silence.
"You're still here?" Master Shane blinks, as though he'd been oblivious to your continued presence despite having never closed his eyes. "Ah, yes, but of course: “Ofarah is the personal bodyguard of Queen Zamere and a renowned military strategist. While fierce, she has been known to show great mercy on the battlefield, and many of our agents in Lamasara report that she is a champion of justice. All you need to know is that she is responsible for this year’s batch of the sun orchid elixir, so whatever you do...stay on her good side.”
"Looks like I will need to get some new finery for the occasion. Is it a masked ball by any chance?"
“I've no idea; what I do know is events like these demand the best. When in doubt, the more you spend on your attire, the better.”
|
I feel bad hoping that a fight will break out. What else will I be good for at a bigwig event? Fighting and boasting about cool foes I've fought. Guess I'll dust off my noble seal.
Arnold, a wayang in brilliantly shining armor, nods intently. A massive wallaby, of all creatures, stands idly beside him.
"Where do they keep the vials during the auction? I think it'd be smartest to have them in a different city entirely."
"Where do they keep the vials during the auction? I think it'd be smartest to have them in a different city entirely."
"Somewhere so secure...even I don't know where it is."
"Any word as to whom the other guests that were invited might be?"
“We know that seven additional guests received an invitation, and four are friends of the Society: Trade Prince Aaqir al’Hakam, the Sapphire Sage Amenopheus, Lady Gloriana Morilla, and Paracountess Zarta Dralneen. We aren’t certain of the identities of the other three guests.”
|
The seventh member of this little group, a halfling druidess named Prilla Frost, had been shyly standing in the back trying not to get noticed. When they were told that this was a dinner party and a social gathering, she even looked more withdrawn, and when Zarta Dralneen's name was mentioned as one of the guests, she began to look really worried. The only sound she made was a rather quiet Eeeep!
The Thuvian Embassy is an ornate, whitewashed, two-story structure tucked in a shady corner of Absalom’s Petal District. Several large oil lamps hang from the walls, bathing the embassy’s rooms in normal light. Exotic rugs, plush furniture, and works of art decorate the building. Surrounding the embassy, lush gardens display Thuvian flora pruned to perfection. Masonry walls and strong wooden doors dominate the embassy’s construction.
You are greeted at the doors by several formidable-looking guards in Thuvian livery. As Master Shaine had thought to mention before leaving, you are free to bring your weapons and whatever else, but you must have them all peace-bonded before entering.
|
|
Arnold reluctantly opts to bond all of his weapons. Should any issues arise, he is perfectly capable of punching the culprit in the face. He asks the guards if his friend can accompany them. It sounds like he's trying to be annoying, until the hulking wallaby makes itself known, and his honesty shines through.
|
Andor stands in the room and looks around.
He looks like a human in his twenties with auburn hear and green eyes. His features seem Chelaxian but also have something else mixed in.
After hearing the briefing he suddenly changes his form into that of a Kitsune. In his true form, an anthropomorphic humanoid fox, he is covered with a downy coat of auburn fur.
"I think I will leave my human form for a potential surprise if necessary." he says.
He is very thin and looks quite weak but agile.
He wears a unique kind of dragonhide armor that seems to shine together with a noble's outfit and the necessary jewelry .
He has an adamantine rapier at his hip that is attached to his wrist with a very fine chain. Under his loose clothing sometimes the holy symbol of Chaldira Zuzaristan is visible.
"Hello everybody, I am Andor." he says with a stern look on his face.
”Well, it seems as if this is one of these urgent missions! I think that it is always reasonable to inform the party of the respective skills. I think that I know quite a lot about alchemy, knowledge of this world and the world beyond it and that I can fight well with my Rapier. That’s it actually!“
|
in Varisia, you have received a medal and public thanks from the authorities of the city. While displaying
your medal you receive a +2 bonus to your Bluff, Diplomacy, and Intimidate checks in Magnimar and in
the cities and towns allied with it. from Feast of Ravenmoor module
|
|
Claudia agrees to peace-bond her sword.
|
|
It's rather hard to peacebond a Starknife so Prilla decides to leave it outside with her animal companion. Besides she was concerned she would accidentally stab someone with one of it's sharp edges. She does, however, have a sling in a pocket, appropriately bonded. Currently she's wearing a rather formal looking set of robes which are decorated with pictures of butterflies and flowers, as well as wearing a flower coronet on her head and a holy symbol of Desna around her neck.
Upon entry, she makes a beeline for the buffet table. Maybe a couple of cream buns will calm her social anxieties enough. She had already admired Kreighton Shane's orchid as well as lingering in the embassy gardens before entering.
Now, she just watches, something edible in one hand, waiting for an opportunity to eavesdrop on conversations. She also keeps a wary eye open for Zarta, hoping that she (Zarta) doesn't call her (Prilla) 'my little fishie' in front of anyone else. That would be too embarrising.
Nobody notices Syl'las's bold skullduggery.
One of the guards is kind enough to offer to properly peacebond Prilla's starknife, though .
Once inside, you find the party is still in the 'mingling' phase; in the foyer you find servants proffering imported Thuvian delicacies and desert-flower liqueur, and seven other guests, four of whom you recognize as the Sapphire Sage Amenopheus; Lady Gloriana Morilla; Paracountess-in-exile Zarta Dralneen; and Trade Prince Aaqir al'Hakam.
The other three are introduced as Ceralan the White, an elven dignitary from Iadara whose gilded leather armor and fine weapons (a rapier and a composite longbow) seem a bit at odds with his frail appearance; Gaspar Desime, an Isgeri veteran of the Goblinblood wars positively festooned with the medals to prove it; and Yala Witchbane, a statuesque Ulfen woman from the Linnorm Kingdoms who seems a tad out of place here.
You do not, yet, however, see your hostess.
|
|
Prilla thanks the guard shyly with a smile, as she wasn't sure how to do that herself. I really hope I don't have to break that she replies.
Once inside, she heads for the buffet table, loads a plate up with delectables and carefully works her way over to her target, determined to keep him distracted with those (as per her faction mission).
|
|
She comes across a set of guards blocking a hallway. Assuming that is where the offices are she approaches. Syl'las taps one on the shoulder to grab his attention. "Do you mind if I sneak through here. I have been requested in the ambassador's office for desert" she says with a smile.
If that get her by, she moves to the officers and leaves the note setting on his chair. Well if he doesn't see it, he will definitely feel it
|
|
Not suited for glad-handing anyway, Arnold slips off for a moment. "I'll be right back. You've got this!"
|
|
While the others go moving around the embassy, Lorian is direct in his mission as he stepped up to the guard.
"Excuse me, I have need to speak to the Ambassador before this festivities start. Now, I know your officers said not to have the Ambassador disturbed but this is official business. Would you please escort me to their office so I might speak to them in private?" he asked.
If inside and speaking to the Ambassador only.
"I am sorry to disturb you, Ambassador. I am Marquis Lorian Therian, called the Peacemaker. I bear a letter from her most esteemed Highness, Princess Eutropia. It is for your eyes only." he said, handing over the letter to the Ambassador.
|
|
Prilla follows Gasper Desimer as discretely as possible, eavesdropping on anything he's saying, while carrying a plate of food. Why? Who knows.
As soon as he starts approaching Zarta, she pokes him in the leg and smiles sweetly. Excuse me ... I heard you were in the Goblinwars .. and that's an impressive collection of medals. How did you get them? Oh .. would you like a cream bun?
"'Desert', huh? Is that what they call it?" Giggles the guard as he waves Sy'las through.
"What, you too???" He says with saucer-sized eyes when Lorian attempts to follow Sy'las. "Whatever, not my business, right this way sir," He lets Lorian pass with a wave and a shudder.
That, then, is easy enough for the two Sovereign Courtiers, and so is finding the ambassador's office - but that office is securely locked, and it seems nobody's home.
Despite some of the guards having taken a very keen interest in Claudia (they've probably never seen a grippli before) she and Andor both manage to elude them and make their way to the library, where finding the book they seek proves surprisingly easy (mounted as it is on a rather rococo lectern of silver and gold, a clear place of honor) and Andor effortlessly transcribes its contents; the two make their way back to the party, where Amenopheus accepts the 'gift' with a wink and a grandfatherly smile.
"I just want to wish you both good luck," He says. "We are all counting on you."
|
|
Arnold dissipates into his composite bits of shadow. Not for long, but thirty seconds ought to be enough for one as clumsy as he. Hopefully he can hand over the parcel in time and without a big reaction.
The wayang does his best, says his piece, and finds a quieter part of the room to rematerialize.
|
|
Syl'las pulls what looks like pins from her hair, which are actually a set of Concealable thieves tools.
She begins to work on the lock.
"Lorian, please keep a look out for me"
Arnold's no courtly consigliere, but he is still a wayang; he manages to plant the platinum in Witchbane's purse, the weight of which she quickly notices. Her look of confusion gives way to an avaricious smile when she sees the payload. "Thank you, Otherworlders," She says to the air in the quietest voice you've heard her use all evening.
"...and THEN, Sarge says 'that one's got a DEAL-BREAKER!' - and we LOOKED, and so' enough, there's this one lil' bugger with a GREAT big gleamin' deal-breaker, hewing and rending all of ol' Signifier's devils back to the Pit! I asks you, where's a GOBLIN get a DEAL-BREAKER?!?..."
Who knew that smiling and nodding could be so fatiguing? Luckily, Gaspar seems to be trapped in his own momentum by this point, and you are able to keep him pinned down until...
... a hulking butler suddenly announces.
You are led into the embassy’s grand dining hall, where a lavish meal has been laid out on a round ebonwood table, surrounded by high-backed chairs before each of which rests a downright intimidating panoply of silverware.
There don't appear to be assigned seats or anything of the like, but you do kind of get the sense that it would be more seemly to 'shuffle' yourselves among the other half of the evening's attendees rather than all lumping together on one side of the table.
Rising to greet you as you enter is the woman who can only be your hostess: Ofarah Ohatepe, "The Lioness of Lamasara". A tall and strongly-built Garundi, with dark hair styled in an elaborate mane of dreadlocks , she drips with gold jewelry that jingles when she walks, accenting a leonine stride which itself suggests both grace and purpose.
“Welcome friends! I apologize for my tardiness, but I hope you had an enjoyable time conversing in the parlor. Tonight, in celebration of my birthday, we will have a sumptuous meal prepared by the embassy’s finest chef, to be served in six courses. As we dine, I look forward to getting to know those of you with whom I am not yet acquainted. Please don’t hesitate to ask anything of our servants, who are here to please, and who will do all in their power to make your meal as exquisite as it can be. So without further delay, let us eat!”
|
|
Arnold immediately finds himself out of his depth. He finds himself stealing glances at what his more savvy allies are doing, but is still unable to copy them.
The wayang tries to find an open place next to an end seat, all the better for a bit of extra space and quiet. On the other hand, he defers his seat to any of his fellows looking to sit next to someone important. Their expertise is more important than a bit of his comfort.