Famed Pathfinder Bodriggan Wuthers disappeared from his dig site beneath the House of the Immortal Son in Taldor's gilded capital of Oppara. Once a grand temple to Aroden, the Immortal Son is now Oppara's most opulent theater. Sent to locate Wuthers, the Pathfinders must attend an opera with members of the Oppara elite in order to gain access to the secretive theater's dig site. When a cult crashes the performance and the nobility change into hideous walking dead, the Pathfinders are forced to choose between finding Wuthers or saving themselves.
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A small female gnome appears.
"I am Aatish. Aatish can burn the poison out of anyone ... but then he they are burnt too ... actually, sometimes they are dead." she says with a wicked smile.
Aatish is a small Gnome woman with grey-pink long hair that almost illuminates her surroundings. She has a mithral buckler in her hand and wears a custom-fit Haramaki suit that looks like it has been recently oiled.
Aatish is sitting on a military saddle on top of a riding dog that looks like a red wolfhound. It is clear that this dog can fight while carrying a rider and Aatish is not really fully in control.
On Aatish's shoulder you see a tiny Rhamphorhynchus flying dinosaur that has dark red scales and looks aggressive.
Aatish's eyes turn red when she gets down from her riding dog and she looks at you.
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Avi tosses and turns, his sleep disturbed by dark dreams of Storm Giants in the clouds. The nightmares come often. He never knows from where, but they always foretell the aspect of his arcane essence that will be prevalent and active the following day (or until the next dream).
In it he's running with the Storm Giants, directing terrible wind and lightning at defenseless settlements. He sees the fear of each face before it's snuffed out. It feels wrong, and deep guilt grips his heart. Yet he must act as they act, wielding the storm.
Just when he can't bear it, and the doubt grows to large so he feels as though he might burst, he suddenly falls from the clouds. How had he been walking or running in them before that point? What rug was pulled out from under his feet. Looking up he sees the Storm Giants laughing at him in his fall. He turns to see the icy waters racing up to meet him and end the plummet. He can almost feel the impact before it even arrives.
He wakes up in a cold sweat...
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Later on...
A plain, but seemingly gruff man appears. When he greets you though, he seems friendlier and more soft-spoken than you expected.
He seems intrigued by Aatish's introduction.
Hi, I'm Avi. Sometimes I burn things too... but how often do you come across beings with poison in them? Do you... he hesitates, unsure if he even wants to pursue the answer. ...put it there yourself?
He looks back at forth between her, the wolfhound, and the small aerial dino perched on her shoulder. When her eyes flash red he finally focuses on her, ultimately deciding that she is in fact the most interesting of the three.
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A figure in a dark green cloak arrives; on his back is a sheathed curved blade along with a small quiver...but, curiously, no bow can be seen. He appears to survey the room before approaching the two present...
He pulls back the hood of his cloak, revealing long wavy brown hair and a face with sharp Elven features. He smiles warmly and bows, "Wymarc, at your service..."
He then nods curiously. "Is there neither food nor drink here?"
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"Zzzzz......zzzzzz.....zzzzzz....Huh? Wuzzat?" Previously unnoticed, an elderly man wrapped in winter furs snoozes whilst leant against a wall.
"Uh, Sleeping Sword! That's my style!" The old man grips a scabbarded katana in one hand. A second curved sword is scabbarded at his waist, and a backpack lies at his feet.
He looks around the room from under heavy-lidded eyes, and nods off again.
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He seems intrigued by Aatish's introduction.Hi, I'm Avi. Sometimes I burn things too... but how often do you come across beings with poison in them? Do you... he hesitates, unsure if he even wants to pursue the answer. ...put it there yourself?
Aatish does not smile and shakes her head.
“No! Avi No!! The poison is within every one of us! War and battle brings it ... makes it visible and if Aatish sees it then Aatish burns it!“
She looks at yet newcomers with curiosity and pets her dinosaur.
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Cassiopia Minksalais a small woman, with graceful limbs and elegant hands. She has a lightly tanned skin and very long hair in the colour of honey usually braided and pinned behind her head. Her most defining feature are her eyes, one is crystal blue, the other amber.
With a flick of her fan and a tiny bow Cassi acknoledges the other pathfinders.
"I am quite please to meet such experienced other pathfinders here.
I am delighted. I have heard that we will go to the opera together. This will be delightful. I have heard the critics are stellar!"
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A strange figure is slumped in the corner of the Venture Captain's office, snoring loudly. He is covered in tattoos, all of them displaying words in a variety of scripts and languages, so many of them that it's a bit difficult to make out whether he is human or perhaps an elf or perhaps something in between. He is wearing a wayfinder over a set of tie-died pajamas and the pajamas appear to have a variety of notes pinned to them.
He startles violently, stretches lazily, yawns, spits, and looks around the room with bleary eyes. "Oh. Hello. I'm - I'm - I'm..." He trails off in confusion. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm..." He looks around the room, as if perhaps he might find some clue or indication, something to get his bearings. He rubs his eyes to be sure that he is actually awake, and gives himself a good strong pinch. "Ow! Hmm, well I'm awake, no doubt about that, but that doesn't help much to know that, if I don't know who it is that is awake, now does it? I don't suppose any of you know? Frightfully embarrassing, I must say, I'm sure that it will come to me in just a moment, but for just now, I have to admit that I don't have the faintest idea who I am or what I might be doing here. Perhaps you can assist me?"
Pinned to his pajama shirt is a note with large, bold writing: "Birseko Naam - if found, return to nearest Pathfinder Lodge."
Staring down at the note, the figure reads it, and then softly whispers, "Birseko Naam, birseko naam... I wonder if that could be me? I feel so unsure of everything just now, it's as if you wake from a dream and you can't decide if you are awake or still asleep..." He pauses, and then exclaims, "Dreams! Yes, that is one thing I DO remember, in my dream, though it was REAL, not a dream at all, mi'lord appeared to me, assuring me that his time is coming, and that I should go forth to herald him. Lord Ranginori returns! Let all know and tremble!" A look of consternation and confusion crosses swiftly over his brow. "That was real, wasn't it? I saw it in my dream but I'm quite sure it was real, as sure as I am of my own..." He trails off, uncertain, eyes aglow with a mixture of fervent devotion and the straining for memories that seem to dance just out of reach.
He looks around at the assembled pathfinders. "So, my friends, here I am, whoever that is, and I am at your service. You may call me Birseko Naam."
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Avi nods and smiles at Aatish.
I thank you for your discretion and restraint. I... may have more than one type of this poison.
Just then more newcomers enter. He perks up at the exchange between Cassi and Wymarc.
The opera? Maybe. We haven't really had a full briefing yet. Surely that's not really what they need us for...
Just then the strange character starts awake in the corner.
Hi there... I'm glad you have all of those notes pinned to you. Well met Birseko. Who is Lord Ranginori? Is that written down on your notes?
Avi looks back at the party and grimaces apologetically, realizing he might regret the question only just after it left his lips.
As you sit waiting and making introductions you finally hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Renowned for her composure under pressure and the author of more than two dozen Pathfinder Chronicles entries, Venture-Captain Eliza Petulengro strides into the room, a stack of chronicles in her arms, and looks you over before speaking.
"My greatest pupil, Pathfinder Bodriggan Wuthers, has gone missing," she begins, apparently a fan of getting right to the point. "He followed a cleric contact back to his home city of Oppara to work on a massive dig beneath the House of the Immortal Son, Oppara’s famed opera house and once temple to the dead god, Aroden. That was a year ago. He sent monthly reports, hoping to see their publication in a chronicle, before all contact dried up a few months back. I’m worried something has gone wrong, and the Society has a vested interest in the artifact he was researching and seeking. We want you to travel to Oppara and find Wuthers. We’d like to know exactly what he was seeking, too, since he neglected to inform us through his monthly correspondence. He hinted only that the cleric of Irori he was working with told him the object was the world’s greatest ‘living’ artifact - whatever that means."
"I have a few tidbits of information to pass to you before you go: the House of the Immortal Son is nearly impossible to access. It took Wuthers months and countless bribes to get where he did. For you, I have a much simpler idea. Go to an opera, wait for an opportunity, and then exploit it to find Wuthers and his dig site."
"Oh - be sure to wear something festive - the Taldan nobility are arrogant on their best days and if you arrive at the opera dressed like that," she waves her hands at you, "they’ll surely lose your tickets or regret to inform you that the opera house is oversold. Go and report back to me directly upon your return to Absalom. Any questions?"
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When Birseko Naam introduces himself, Sleeping Sword raises one eyebrow and half opens one eye. What's this? Another student of the Way perhaps? Ah, no. He is an elf, I think. Or half elf. Surely an elf would not be so sleepy.
Hearing the Venture Captain deliver the briefing, Sleeping Sword stands up straight. But only for a moment, as he leans heavily on the scabbard of his primary blade. "Uh, wuzzat? Opera? Mmm. The Way of the Sleeping Sword teaches us that when music and courtesy are better understood and appreciated, there will be no need of warriors and war.
Uh, what should we wear? Are weapons permitted? I admit I have never been to an opera."
"Ah! Good question," Eliza replies, looking pleased but maybe just the tiniest bit surprised that the first question came from someone who appeared to be sleeping during the lecture. "It'll take some coin but the easiest option is to visit a tailor and purchase suitable finery there. Of course the lot of you already have some missions under your belts so you might be familiar with magic items and the like that'll give you the same sort of result."
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Birseko smiles and replies to Avi's question, "Lord Ranginori? No, it's not written in my notes yet somehow I feel quite certain of who he is: the Elemental Lord of Air. He has been... uh... indisposed for some time, but in my dreams I see him and I believe he will soon return. May all rejoice!"
Birseko claps his hands with delight when he hears that they are heading to the opera. "How wonderful! I wonder what is playing? I hope I haven't seen it before..." Glancing down at his tie-dyed pajamas and the notes covering them. "Really? You don't think this fits with the current trends of Taldan fashion? Well, I suppose they might be a bit behind the times. It can't hurt to switch up my wardrobe anyway. I'm sure I have no idea when the last time these pajamas were washed. I guess I'd best head to the tailor's. And a haberdasher too, perhaps."
Birseko pauses and turns back to Eliza. "What more can you tell us about Bodriggan? Who was this cleric that he was following?"
"Well, the cleric is a mystery even to me I'm afraid," Eliza frowns. "Bodriggan never mentioned a name, a nickname, or even an alias. Unusual but it's also not entirely unheard of for those who choose to work with the Pathfinder Society to prefer to remain some degree of anonymity - not all places are welcoming to our presence."
She glances at Aatish. "Hopefully their involvement is of a more benign nature and there'll be no need for bloodshed. That said, if Bodriggan is in danger or you find yourselves in danger, then you've of course got the right to handle the situation as you see fit."
"As far as Bodriggan himself is concerned...well, you've not heard of him? I'm a little surprised, to be honest!"
You know that Bodriggan Wuthers was an orphan of unknown ancestry, found 20 years ago on the doorstep of the Pathfinder Lodge of Taldor’s capital, Oppara. He was raised in an orphanage, but the Taldan Pathfinders made it a point to look in on him from time to time, encouraging the boy’s curiosity and pushing him toward the life of the vagabond scholar. When Wuthers turned 16, he left the orphanage behind and traveled to Absalom to join the Pathfinder Society. After a few years of training and following Venture-Captain Eliza Petulengro, Wuthers settled into his routine, traveling Avistan and Garund seeking greater glory for himself and the Society through treasure hunting. He quickly made a name for himself, battling through a host of demon-possessed apes in the Screaming Jungle at age 18 to recover the Garls Harp, an Azlanti musical instrument thought lost to time and memory. His tale of that find saw his first of many reports appear in the Pathfinder Chronicles and his fame as a Pathfinder was sewn into the fabric of the Society.
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"So our mission is to go to the opera, sneak into the basement, find a grown up orphan who has been muddling about down there with some unknown cleric and an all-powerful artifact? Seems a bit on the easy side, no? I can't imagine what could go wrong. I do hope that at least we'll have time to take in the performance... I do love Opparan opera! Or, at least I think I do..."
Birseko shakes his head, as if it is surrounded by cobwebs only he can see. "Anything else you can tell us that would be helpful? Did Wuthers say anything else of interest in his reports? For that matter, I don't suppose you have any of his personal effects?"
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Avi listens to the briefing, nodding along with the explanation of a living artifact and even become intrigued by that possibility.
Then the mention of the opera...
Avi chuckles sheepishly, scratches the back of his head in some manner of fidget and looks at the ground.
Ha! Great... formal attire. And sitting through music. What more could we ask for?
He turns to Cassiopia and Aatish. Um, yeah can you help me pick out something as well? I have the gold, of course.
Looking back to the VC, he asks If the Society doesn't know what this living relic is, what is its vested interest in it?
"I'm afraid not - Wuthers never was one to linger long here at the Grand Lodge and so didn't keep a permanent room. Normally we try to respect our agents' autonomy somewhat but now I'm wondering if we should revisit that - it would certainly make this much easier if we had a personal effect we could use as a focus for divination magics and the like," Eliza answers, a rueful expression on her face.
"And what do you mean, 'what is our vested interest in it'?" she repeats, turning now to Avi with a genuinely surprised expression. "Tracking down such relics, documenting them, studying them, this is all part of being a Pathfinder agent, part of our purpose. We Cooperate but we also Explore and Report. And from a purely pragmatic standpoint, if there truly is a relic in or under that opera house, living or otherwise, allowing it to fall into the hands of uneducated laymen *or* bored aristocracy probably isn't the best course of action until we know more about it."
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"Uh, I don't suppose furs are acceptable dress for the opera are they, Cassiopia?" the old man asks ruefully, pulling his cloaks tighter around him. "If not, then perhaps you can pick out something that is at least fur-lined?"
"Uh, one more thing before we travel. You must all know that my birth was cursed. Positive energy, that would heal a living creature, is deadly to me and my kind. Instead, negative energy heals my wounds. For I am what is known as a dhampir. I carry scrolls, a wand and a potion that will serve to heal me" Sleeping Sword reveals these items to the party. The potion vial is labelled in Taldane and Tien Do not drink! Sleeping Sword ONLY!
"I have another wand bearing a Mage Armour spell, if one familiar with the arcane would kindly carry it for me, and employ it should I ask?"
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Aatish looks at Avi.
"Aatish sees you and you are good-looking without clothing. Aatish will not help."
WHAT?! I have to wear something! His face reddens a little before he realizes what she probably meant.
He uncomfortably but silently suffers through the fitting, grateful that Cassi is lending her expertise that he would otherwise have no desire or use for.
This isn't my favorite thing to do... but I'm glad you're here to help since you're so into this. He forces a warm smile, expressing his gratitude.
A week, one clothes-shopping session, and some travel later, you arrive in the Gilded City, Oppara. Capital of Taldor, and by far the largest city in the realm, it is an ancient and thriving place which earned the title the Gilded City because of the many roofs, spires, and domes that once glittered with gold plating in the high afternoon sun. The dominant building materials of Oppara are stone, marble, granite, and bricks. Six thousand years of history and the extravagance of the empire's capital are still obvious in the city's design. The streets are paved in grandiose mosaic tiles or well-laid cobblestones. Stone gutters quickly siphon off the frequent summer rains into the city's expansive sewer system. Public fountains dot many of the larger crossroads and squares and the city is lit by tens of thousands of lanterns at night. And even though the skyline’s golden plating has long since been stripped away, Oppara remains the example of what the empire once was - and what it could be again.
After making arrangements for lodging you take the time to ask around a little bit about the House of the Immortal Son and you learn that tonight happens to be the debut of a new opera (or at least new to the House of the Immortal Son) - Among the Living. It's an epic tale of a lone Ulfen warrior named Victory who sails to the ends of Golarion, crashes off the edge of the world, and finds himself in a gothic paradise where he falls in love with the undead queen of a jungle kingdom. By all accounts it's melodramatic, over-acted, gaudy, and tasteless — just the sort of affair Taldor's wealthy screams to attend.
You also learn something unexpected but pleasantly surprising. It seems that though the House of the Immortal Son has a reputation for opulence and excess, it never turns away anyone with any obvious amount of money...or fame. And it just so happens that Pathfinders are a source of great discussion in Taldor and the nobility love to read of their exploits and adventures...
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Sleeping Sword is about to explain why this means that orcs are not great warriors, when Aatish describes the humans as food. He licks his lips, without thinking, revealing rows of crooked pointed teeth.
Food. So Hungry. I can feel them all around. Connected. The Hunger joins me to them. But I shall not let it overcome me, by the Empress of Heaven! I follow the Way. I am the master of the Hunger.
"Uh? Wuzzat? Zzzzzzz..."
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Birseko gazes around the streets of Oppara with interest, hoping that something may seem familiar, but it is all a strange new metropolis as far as he can tell.
The story of the opera, however, fills him with excitement. "I certainly hope this won't be one of those cases where we have to sneak out mid-show to infiltrate the basement! Not with a plot like this - it sounds captivating!"
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Food...? Avi does a double take at Aatish's expression. He starts to turn towards her and then quickly shakes it off.
Nope, not asking. Food. Burn your food. Something. Better let it be.
He then takes in the city scene to try to attune to watch she and Sleeping Sword are talking about.
Hmm, they are of course comfortable. City living usually is. On the other hand, we're simply seeing people out and about, enjoying themselves. I suppose you could find folks working in the city, and then maybe they wouldn't look so weak. Maybe back at the docks.
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Walking slowly with the others Cassi looks at them.
"For those that are poor, city live is no less dangerous and taxing than for those living in the frontier. Some have to work backbreaking hours for a meager living, just to get by.
I agree, for those raised in oppolence, you have no fear to get not enough food. But you fear, which one is poisoned.
And remember, in days past, Taldor was more than triple the size!"
As you enjoy a rather stimulating conversation about the nature of the city and difference in experience that occurs when one has little to no coin versus all the coin they could ever want, you all head out into the crisp evening air and make your way to the House of the Immortal Son.
Once a temple to Aroden, the House of the Immortal Son has, since his death, been Taldor’s most opulent and expensive opera house. It is a large, windowless, cylindrical building made of polished marble and granite and surrounded by thick, finely-carved pillars. Built in the earliest traditional styles of Arodenite temples, the opera house lacks windows (visitors are meant to look up, not out) and its roof is a complicated piece of stone statuary that replicates the holy symbol of Aroden, a steady winged eye gazing forever toward the heavens.
Strolling up to the building you see what appear to be several entrances, though some of them also appear to be closed. In fact, everyone that you can see seems to be filtering through one of two entrances. The first entrance is flanked by finely carved pillars and bedecked with a deep blue carpet. The second entrance is also flanked by carved pillars, but they seem slightly less ostentatious compared to the ones at the first entrance. This second entrance is also bedecked with a carpet, which is red in color.
It looks like attendees are proceeding through both entrances but as they're all dressed in fine clothes it's difficult to determine what the difference between the two is, aside from the colors of carpet.
As you hesitate, wondering if it matters which entrance you use, Wymarc decides to take the opportunity to scan the crowds for anyone that might stand out. The opera-goers are positively dripping in numerous displays of wealth and status, from fine clothes crafted of silk, cotton, velvet, and taffeta, to their elaborate hairstyles, to the jewelry that adorns soft, uncalloused hands that have never seen a day's hard labor.
But even among this sea of nobility and power, there is one gentleman that does catch Wymarc's eye in particular. Heading towards a third entrance adorned with a carpet of the deepest violet, is a tall, frighteningly thin man of advanced age. His short, gray hair sticks to his head as if it were bathed in cooking oil and his thick, white beard, meticulously trimmed and braided, positively glistens with wax. He wears the finery of some office, a blue silk shoulder sash over long white robes, and his fingers are encrusted with bejeweled rings.
While Wymarc watches, the tall man reaches the Violet Entrance. Apparently he is a regular at the House of the Immortal Son, for the greeter at the door offers a deep bow before standing aside to allow the man to enter. Once the tall man disappears into the building, the greeter resumes his place in front of the entrance.
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As the group nears the opera, Birseko tries to make sure that they can communicate with each other if they get split up.
Approaching the entrance, Birseko also gazes about himself, taking in the surroundings, with a strange look in his eye.
He also looks at the various entrances trying to see if he discerns any reason to prefer one over another.