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Each of you has received a letter.
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.
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As a darkly cloaked figure with a bow slung over his shoulder enters the room, he tentatively stands at the entrance and takes in the celebration. Not knowing where to begin, he is grateful as Janira comes over and explains things...
He pulls back his hood to reveal flowing blonde air and a face ripe with Elven features. He bows as gracefully as he can manage. "Alanossë at your service, m'Lady...this is a lot to take in. It appears initiates are being taken around the room and introduced in groups. Perhaps I should start by getting a drink and awaiting the next group. I thank you, m'Lady."
The Elf gets some punch and moves aside to await the next small group to be shown around...
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Never one to be parted from his close friend Mr. Kitteh, Wraax examines the flooring along the entryway. After verifying that the floor is unlikely to catch fire or be permanently marred by the flaming paws of his friend, he signals for the two of them to enter just as a cloaked figure with a bow is bowing to Janira.
Wraax gives the two some space long enough for Alanossë to set off towards the punch bowl before also giving her a curt nod. "Thanks.. For inviting us... I guess..." Wraax looks clearly uncomfortable in crowds, but musters himself anyways and then enters the revelries. Fidgety enough to want to pace and move anyway, he and Mr. Kitteh set off to join the dark-skinned Elf and the crowd of new initiates she is leading around.
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Dressed in black from head to toe, a dark-gray-skinned half-elf woman with jet black hair and eyes slips into the ballroom like a shadow. In a back alleyway she'd blend in with her surroundings, but here she sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the lights and bright colors of everyone's clothes. Clearly feeling exposed, her eyes dart and shift around her as if anticipating an ambush. As this is a social event, that may just be a correct assessment. Spotting Janira, she weaves her way toward the halfling and the group that is gathering around her. With a casual tone that belies her unease, she greets the woman: "Hi Janira. Nal Bagura. How are you today? Say, would you care to point out the important folks here and tell us a bit about them?" First step of any job: gather information. It's just a job.
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"Thank you Abadar, Master of the First Vault, for giving me the strength to make it through my ordeals. May my efforts create commerce and fulfill your ideals for a civil living," The priest quietly prays as he approaches Janira. He's slight of build, with dark hair that is starting to thin above the temples and tawny skin. He wears a white robe that is trimmed with gold thread at the sleeves and collar, as well as a particularly ornate key hanging from a cord on his neck, made of silver and painted gold.
He's all smiles and looks rather comfortable in the setting, seeing all of the different conversations going on and considering his next approach. He glances down at the half-elf asking Janira about 'important folk' and speaks up. "This is something that I would like to know as well, darling Janira," He enunciates with decorum. "It would bring us all a great deal of shame to be conversing with someone so important to our Society and not have the slightest inkling of how to address them!"
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A mountain dwarf sporting heavy garb and a braided beard, both rather thick, looks clearly out-of-place among the festivities. A sizeable miner's pick is slung over his back.
The dwarf grabs a large chicken leg from a passing plate and takes a bite. "Snacks? Yes." he says in response to Janira. "Drinks? Could always use a few more."
Once his cup is filled, he hazards again to speak to the halfling Pathfinder. "I'm far more interested in containing unpleasant hazards than walking among them. Perhaps, you could introduce me to the famed Eando Kline?"
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Janira smiles.
"Technically, I am the Head Initiate, but just call me Janira!"
She then nods to the various groups.
"The dwarf over there is Gorm Greathammer, the leader of the Grand Archive. He is deep in conversation with Zarta Dralneen, a Chelaxian expatriate once known best for her hedonism, who is now the Head Archivist of the Grand Lodge's extensive troves of knowledge and magic."
She then nods in the direction of the punch bowl.
"The half-orc is Calisro Benarry, the former captain of the Grinning Pixie, and now leader of the Horizon Hunters. She is deep in conversation with Aaqir al-Hakam, a well-groomed, clean-shaven man of Qadiran descent, known as one of the Society's main suppliers of adventuring equipment."
Janira then indicates the dark-skinned elven woman, who is chatting amiably with an aasimar woman with violet eyes and natural golden patterns on her face.
"The elf-blooded woman is Fola Barun, the head of the Envoy's Alliance; the other is Valais Durant, the leader of the Radiant Oath."
She then turns her attention to the fourth group.
"The stern human man of Taldan descent with tanned skin, dark hair, and a distinctive chin strip of facial hair is Eando Kline, the head of the Vigilant Seal faction. The Elf he is talking with is Kreighton Shane, the Pathfinder Society’s Master of Scrolls — the Society’s dean responsible for agents’ academic training - an eccentric and absent-minded elf with long, blond hair."
Janira smiles, and winks.
"Why don't you go and introduce yourselves to the various groups? It might be worth your while!"
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"Thank you kindly for guiding us so eloquently, Janira," Trevadar tells her. He addresses the elf suggesting that they mingle as a group next. "Certainly that is something we could do, though I am interested to striking up conversation with everyone. Shall we start with Eando and Dean Shane as our friend here has inclined first?" He refers to the dwarf snacking on the chicken leg.
If there are no objections, he will start to approach them slowly, giving them time to notice him coming towards them.
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Having already headed off to join Fola Barun rather than any of the snacks or drinks. Wraax is unaware of the plan of action, although it is fairly easy to notice him in the crowd. What with the flaming cat next to him.
Approaching Fola Barun, Wraax introduces himself, "Ummm.... Hello. I am Wraax and this is my partner, Mr. Kitteh... It looks like you are, um, showing new pathfinders around. Or... erm... Such? ..Yeah... I'm Wraax and it is good to meet you." He stands awkwardly, fidgeting some, clearly out of his element.
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After finding himself lost to the whims of the crowd, Wraax eventually spies Nal Bagura. Recognizing another soul as equally lost in these situations as himself. he and Mr. Kitteh approach the group. After listening in on the conversation, he feels compelled to try and add something even if he has nothing major to offer.
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Kreighton Shane proves to be a tenacious conversant, running rings around most of the party as he discusses the intricacies of faerie-kin mathematics, but Grommfell manages to distract him enough that Eando is able to slip the party a note:
Some smugglers were using a recently exposed ship in the Flotsam Graveyard to smuggle goods into the city from Nex — including creatures, apparently. One of their “goods” broke free of its containment, and the smugglers been looking for someone to recapture it. I am not keen on letting the smugglers regain their missing “cargo,” as the creature is equally likely to be a slave or a menace. Your goal is to locate and identify this strange creature, and then determine what its fate should be; I am empowering your group to make that decision, because I don’t believe you should trust an uninformed central authority to make that sort of call.
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After taking several moment to uncross his eyes from the twists and turns of conversation that Kreighton Shane wonders down. Wraax realizes the group is ready to move on. Clearing his throat and gesturing towards the half-Orc by the punch-bowl, "I... Could use a drink... Maybe we can talk to Calisro Benarry... You know... By the punch bowl... Full of drink to be drunk..."
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"Ah, trading routes through the Shackles? Sounds like that treaty's going fairly well. I wonder, how long have you been working toward it? I assume something of this nature would have run up against some resistance among the more...sensitive types." Nal's posture and tone imply a desire to learn how it was done so she can apply those techniques herself, when necessary.
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Wraax happily takes a cup and downs it in a single gulp, before taking a deep breath. "I have a friend who spends a lot of the time in the Mwangi, perhaps routing a trade route south to the recently vacated chelish lands could be extremely profitable for all involved." Wraax visibly grimaces as he uses the word profit.
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Alanossë and Trevadar don't make much of an impression, but the rest of the party manages to distract Aaqir, allowing Calisro to explain what she wants:
Apparently, she has made some weird friends over the years. One of the weirdest — a long-lived naga with unparalleled occult knowledge — was unjustly accused of a crime, punished with the Charge of the Gorgon, and left petrified in Westgate. Calisro’s bribed someone to get permission to restore her friend, but it’ll look a lot more official if a third party takes care of the details, and you lot are a perfect fit. She gives the you a greater salve of antiparalysis with explicit instructions that it be used only on the target.
Additionally, with a wink, she slips you a small, unmarked hip flask, describing it as “a pick-me-up for when you really need to get back on your feet.”
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The job of helping a friendly naga from their petrification and serving justice seemed much more pleasant and far less deadly to Trevadar.
As Grommfell turns to the leader of the Grand Archive, Trevadar is eager to head the pack to see his faction's head and make a good impression. "Allow me to speak with him, and perhaps you could distract the archivist?" He asks the party.
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Wraax listens intently to the discussion of the wards, showing a deep level of concern. "These wards do not cause any... untoward results for those who trigger them... nor are they 'experimental' are they?" Mr. Kitteh growls unhappily at the word 'experimental' and Wraax takes a moment to soothe them before continuing the conversation.
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Unfortunately, most of the party just isn't... academically inclined... but then Trevadar manages to pull an intelligent line of conversation from seemingly nowhere, giving Gorm enough time to pass the party a note:
A partially collapsed house in the Precipice Quarter, long rumored to be haunted, has been marked for demolition in the next few days. I understand that the house was severely damaged in the earthquake of 4698 ar, but rumors of strange activity there long predate the quake. I would like you to uncover the history of the house before its destruction.
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All right. I think I'm getting the hang of this. Schmooze for a bit, then get a mini-mission. Ok. One left. "Excuse us, Master Gorm and Lady Zarta. I believe Fola Barun has indicated that she would like to speak to us." Please nobody question that, for the love of all that's worth it!
She hustles the group to the aforementioned Fola Barun, making sure to position herself at the back of the pack. If any of the initiates in the group asks about her excuse for leaving the previous conversation, she'll simply wink and give them a cocky half-smile.
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Discovering the history of a house about to be demolished seemed even safer than the other tasks they had been given. But Trevadar had come to this party to network, and there was one more faction head he desired to make a meet and greet with before heading off anywhere else. Thankfully the others in his group appeared to have the same idea, as he went along towards Fola Barun.
"You know, I don't mind helping out people, but you think they would request assistance through normal procedures rather than backchanneling like this," He comments to the others. "Be that as it may, ah, what tasks are all of you considering?"
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Wraax listens intently for a few minutes, taking particular interest in the aiding of others, before stepping in with notes of his own, clearly heavily invested in this topic. "One of the most important things for refugees is protection from the elements. I have found that there are many animal skins that do not sell well, but work well for making simple shelters out of. Taking such scraps and building such shelters is relatively simple work. So much so it could even be used as a form of labor provided for other refugees. Giving them the opportunity to work to help one another, and learn new skills, all the while lessening the burden placed on the localities in question." He then speaks at length about multiple tanning techniques and methods for waterproofing.
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Laughing and slapping Trevadar on the back to try to overcome his blunder, Nal shakes her head at him. "Never mind this guy. He's all right when it counts. Anyhoo, I'm sure checking with the scouts in the area would be useful. They'll have a good handle on which areas could support the extra folks."