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You have been stationed at the Grand Lodge in Absalom, awaiting assignment for a mission that you hope will be of utmost importance.
Things finally seemed in motion when Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng sent out a summons for available agents. Specialized in the history of Absalom, Dreng is known for putting off-duty agents to work on sundry tasks when he finds them resting within the city’s limits.
You were asked to all come together in one of the meeting rooms of the Grand Lodge and have been waiting for a couple of minutes already but Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng has not arrived, yet.
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A rather tall elven man walks in. His skin is pale and his hair white as snow. Even though it is rather warm out, this elf has fine fur coats on though who ever looks at him can tell he is sweating. Under his breath, he hums an old elven hymn. Looks like I'm the first one here he thinks as he looks around at the Grand Lodge. As a new recruit, he hasn't spent much time here. In fact, he hasn't spent much time outside of the Crown of the World. Partially thinking and partially muttering under his breath: this building is quite ugly. Those structural beams seem out of place - way too numerous. The windows are too small. And where's the art? The Guiding Hand would not enjoy her time here.
He'll wait for the other recruits to arrive. The elf will greet the others as they come in with a nod and a curt hello. He will not go out of the way to introduce himself, only wait for another to provide their name first. If someone does, he responds: "You may call me the Wandering Dream."
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A voice comes from the doorway behind Renard. "I think there may have been some error. I am not sure that that is in fact a badger."
The speaker enters revealing themselves to be a female andriod. She is slightly above the height of an average human though shorter than elf.
Wearing leather armour and armed with a rapier her gear is clearly designed for practicality first and aesthetics a distant second.
The marks of visible nano-circuitry breakup the unnatural smoothness of her blue skin and there is the faint flicker of lights running along the silvery lines.
Suddenly a little female gnome with pink hair opens the door to your meeting room and asks “Are you the team waiting for Drandle? He won’t be able to meet you here but left an address for you to meet him. Here you go!“
She hands one of you a piece of paper with the address and runs out as fast as she had arrived.
Drandle Dreng is the venture-captain of the Pathfinder Society who handles Pathfinder assignments concerning Absalom's history and mysteries. He has a remarkable memory: he recalls hidden truths about the city's most important people that even they have forgotten. These secrets are not just gathered from Pathfinder agents: he gathers information personally.
The little female gnome with the pink hair puts her head into the room again.
"Oh sorry, I forgot to tell you that Drandle wants you to introduce yourself properly to each other. He said that this mission can involve a lot of ale and he wants you to know each other at least a little before you see each other completely drunk!" she says with a sly smile and closes the door.
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A tall armored man walks in, his ebon mail adorned with the symbol of a jackal eating an eclipsed sun. He removes his helmet revealing a gaunt human face and sickly green hair reaching his shoulders.
"Pardon my lateness. Far too many people rushing around this place. Did I hear you correctly that our contact isn't even here?" the man says with annoyance in an Ustalavic accent.
Turning to the elven man he shakes his head, "No, I am not familiar with this city but-"
Being cut off by the gnome popping her head back into the room...he drops his helmet, allowing it to clatter against the floor. He rubs his temples with his free hands, the skin appearing far too loose, for those watching.
"My name is Malkor Rixis from Lozeri in Ustalav. I have taken this commission to see the world, for various reasons. And this is my brother..." he says coldly, waving him onward.
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Behind him walks in a very pale man with hair the color of pale straw that hangs all the way to his thighs. He wears no helmet and lets it hang loose behind him and parted away from his handsome face. He’s clad in similar dark armor as his brother save some more intricate and ornate features; somehow making his unusually pretty visage seem less abnormal. His armor bears no obvious crest but the giant greatsword strapped to his back stands out plain as day. It looks almost decorative and even though the man himself is quite tall, the sword appears massive in comparison. The cross guard nearly matching his shoulders in width and the hilt jutting out almost a foot above his head. He ducks slightly in the doorway as he passes.
He scans the room with a smug smirk, an eyebrow quirking up as he spots the Android, but otherwise says nothing until his brother waves to him.
”Always late to the party, brother. You never change,” he says towards his brother but his eyes actually never leave the group. He keeps scanning them over with a big toothy grin; incisors almost sharp enough to cause suspicion. ”I am Valentin. At your service,” he proclaims while bowing and scraping towards the group. He speaks in a similar Ustalavic accent as his brother, albeit more refined and far more pompous.
You decide to go to the address and any Pathfinders that are late will receive the address from the lovely young gnome.
Coming to the meeting place—an odd choice of venue, as it is a street corner far from the Grand Lodge—a lone beggar garbed in baggy robes approaches. The only figure visible in the constant drizzle, the beggar sticks out his hands for currency.
“Have you any coin to spare, fine folk?”
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As they trudge through the rain, Malkor dons his helmet once again. His feet heavy as they navigate streets.
"Have you anything to offer us? Information specifically, a man by the name of Drandle Dreng should be in this area, have you seen or heard anything that may be useful." Malkor says staring down at the man as he digs out a gold coin from his beltpouch. He balls his fist around it tightly waiting for an answer.
The question hangs in the air for only a scant moment before the figure pulls back his hood to reveal the wizened face of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng. He gives a crooked smile, soaked head to toe from his unprotected time in the rain. His clothes smell faintly of cabbage.
“Sorry about that,” he says with a wink. “I always like to play a little joke on agents when I stumble across them during my jaunts into town. Now, why did I summon you fine folk here again…?”
Dreng shakes his head from side to side, as though trying to knock water out of his ears, despite the constant downpour.
“Ah yes, the Wounded Wisp! I’m undercover now and can’t stray far from the site I’m watching, but I need someone to retrieve a package for me from that fine establishment. It’s among Absalom’s most storied taverns, you see, and one that holds a special place of privilege in the Society’s lore as the place where the organization began. Well, I could drone on and on about it, but standing out in the rain is doing none of us any favors.”
As if anticipating agreement, the bedraggled Venture-Captain produces a small slip of folded paper from one of his many stitched pockets. Dreng quickly shows a glimpse of the page’s contents: a map detailing the location of the Wounded Wisp bar.
“The bartender is a woman by the name of Heryn Gale, a fine lady who came to own the Wisp after the passing of her father from—oh, bah, it’s really getting too cold for me to give a proper history lesson! If you could just go to the Wisp, and tell Heryn you’re there to pick up my parcel, it would be most appreciated. I’ll be around here for several more hours at least!“ he says.
The Wounded Wisp was a bar once frequented by the original members of the Pathfinder Society before the Society was even formed. Inside the Wisp, acquaintances would share stories about their adventurous exploits with one another.
Many volumes of the Pathfinder Chronicles came together under the Wisp’s roof. Famous Pathfinders like Eando Kline and the Seeker Osprey often stopped by for a drink while they relaxed in Absalom between assignments. Though not officially affiliated with the Society, the bar maintains good relations with Pathfinders, offering discounts and prompt service. The owners have always kept themselves and the Wisp afloat through the generosity of Society agents who spend coin at the establishment.
Selmius Foster was one of the founding members of the Pathfinder Society, known to have frequented the Wisp often and occasionally taken up residence in a spare room between his travels. His celebrated exploits first appeared in Volume 1 of the Pathfinder Chronicles.
Following the death of Selmius Foster on the island of Bhopan, his assistant Adolphus made several donations to maintain one of his mentor’s favorite sites. The exact arrangement between Adolphus and the owners of the Wisp was never disclosed, but it is said that some of this gold came from the same fortune that Adolphus used to found the Pathfinder lodge in Quantium.
“Do you have any questions?“
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Uoralveren is glad he wore his fur coats today. Anything to keep this dreaded rain off. Oh, I long for snow. I wonder if it snows here in Absolom....
As the group meets up with Drandle Dreng, Uoralveren is surprised (and a little startled!) of the venture captains little prank.
"We'll make haste and bring the parcel back here as soon as we can."
Upon hearing the name The Wounded Wisp, Uoralveren thinks back. Someone on his last (and only) mission may have mentioned it. Or maybe someone in the Grand Lodge. He's heard the name, for sure. It was a bar frequented by the founders of the Pathfinder Society before the society was even formed. Acquaintances and friends tell stories/exploits with one another. "Perhaps we can make a stop by after our mission to hang out" - the elf thinks to himself that's the proper slang, right?
Dreng nods at Uoralveren.
"It is a unique wine bottle! After I have my bottle your real mission is going to start but you see ... I cannot leave now and would so much like to have a good glass of wine. So please do not get too comfortable there. I promise you a round on me after your mission in concluded, ok?" Dreng says with a smile.
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Underneath the helmet, Malkor would be wearing a shocked and confused expression on his face.
What is the practicality of this ruse...
He slowly returns the gold coin to his pouch as the mission is laid out, unfortunately, he remained quiet as his own information on the Society was scarce. He listened to the rain pinging off his armor as he waited for the others to ask any questions.
"You can find me here again when you got my bottle. I am not going anywhere at the moment.”
He suddenly stares to corner to his right and hesitates moment – then looks at you “Run, run, otherwise you might be too late!“
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Valentin seems to be hating his existence while walking in the rain; his silky hair now drenched and sticking to him unattractively. He makes a point to walk under any overhead cover when possible despite already being soaked. His annoyance reaches a peak when then beggar gets in their way. He borderline hisses at him in reaction.
Once revealed to be the man they’re looking for, he reaches out and snatched the map Dreng provides. He dangles it in his hand as if holding a disgusting rat by its tail and peers his head sideways to inspect it while the others ask questions.
”I am uncertain when I turned into a mere delivery man but.... if you MUST have this gods forsaken wine to give us our actual mission, I suppose we must retrieve it.” he says with intense disdain, sticking the now wet paper to the plating on Malkor’s arm.
”Thanks so much!!“ Dreng says.
Following the instructions you arrive at the Wounded Wisp bar.
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LOCATION
The Wounded Wisp is located in the Foreign Quarter district of Absalom, close to the grounds of the Grand Lodge. Dreng’s hastily sketched map provides basic directions. You have no difficulty finding the establishment with the map Dreng provided. Almost every initiate or member has heard of or seen the building at some point.
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DESCRIPTION
Built from dark, discolored wood, the exterior of the Wounded Wisp is the image of an iconic dive bar. Stained and barred windows obscure direct vision into the establishment, though ruddy yellow light bleeds from a window in the front hall. In the hours just before dawn, the building closes long enough for menials to clean and to give staff a rest.
The only distinguishing feature on the Wisp’s exterior is a thick wooden sign hanging from above the bar’s entrance. A brass ring fitted onto the sign anchors a lantern—referred to by the staff as “the wisp”— that hangs there during the evening hours.
A1. Entry Hall: This long wooden hallway is the entrance to the Wounded Wisp, heading north into the building itself. The walls are covered in numerous decorations and trophies left by successful Pathfinders who’ve donated minor paraphernalia to the bar.
A2. Coat Check: This large closet contains various coat racks and shelves for patrons to place any equipment they don’t want to lug with them. Typically a teenager works here and manages any garments the patrons wish to stow.
A3. Main Hall: Tables fill the main floor of the Wounded Wisp where patrons sit with colleagues and share stories over drinks. Three sets of stairs lead up to a raised dining area (area A5).
A4. Bar: Staffed by at least one employee of the Wounded Wisp, the bar holds a variety of different beers, while hard liquors are kept in a glass case on the wall behind the bar.
A5. Dining Area: Four feet above the main floor of the Wounded Wisp, this section is sectioned off by elegant metal railings. On this level, patrons can enjoy a more private meal without the noise of the area below.
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Magellia doesn’t seem to notice the rain. On occasion drops will run right across the surface of her eye without causing the expected blink.
She cocks her head to the side during the conversation with Dreng.
After he is out of earshot she turns to the group
”I also do not understand this. Is this some human levity I’m not familiar with or is our officer suffering some sort of loss of mental faculties? His actions this evening seem illogical.”
She raises a finger.
”I feel we should talk on the move though as he suggested we run. Logical or not he gave us an instruction.”
Magellia runs at full speed towards the tavern. She waits for any stragglers at the door to the Wounded Wisp without showing signs of the exertion.
Pathfinders stick together. We may be being observed. Yes, if this was a staged training exercise the errors can be dismissed.
Once the group enters she make a beeline for the barman to pickup the parcel.
”Hello we are here on behalf of Drandle Dreng. I believe you have a bottle of wine for him.”
YOU STEP INSIDE
The smell of smoke and spilled ale assails the senses in this wide-open area. Walls of dark-stained wood make up the sides of the Wounded Wisp, while well-used wooden tables are spread throughout the space. A raised area in the back of the establishment houses several additional tables and eating areas for groups seeking more than just a good drink. An austere bar supported by kegs instead of wooden panels commands the northern end of the room. A stained-glass cabinet stands behind the bar, its dark panes cracked in several spots, yet not so opaque as to conceal the several dozen types of hard liquor within.
As you arrive, a handful of different groups are already relaxing around the bar, enjoying drink and food offered by the Wisp’s staff.
Once the group enters she make a beeline for the barman to pickup the parcel.
”Hello we are here on behalf of Drandle Dreng. I believe you have a bottle of wine for him.”
For those of you who know her, Heryn Gale works the bar of the Wounded Wisp tonight, catering directly to those sitting on stools while simultaneously preparing drinks for those at tables and coordinating the wait staff.
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"Oh hello, I am Heryn, hard to believe that I still need to introduce myself." she says laughing.
"I was wondering when Drandle would come and get his bottle. I cannot accompany you down at the moment as I have to wait until my replacement arrives so that I can step away from the bar. Look, up there are two free tables. Take a seat and have a drink and I will be with you within the next half an hour, ok?"
You all notice that the current talk of the bar is that Sir Reinhart of Kenabres, a Mendevian crusader who recently arrived from the north, plans on attempting the Test of the Starstone, the legendary trial by which one might ascend to godhood.
Standing here in the Wounded Wisp you see a lot Wayfinders in the open and realize that this tavern is still very much frequented by Pathfinders
You look around and some of you see the faces of people that you have once or twice seen in the Grand Lodge.
On the right sits a lone Keleshite merchant who is drinking tea and reading a book. The keleshite merchant is Aram bin Kaleel, a devout inquisitor of Sarenrae. He owns Kaleel’s Curiosities, a shop in the Coins district. At least once a month, Aram comes to the Wounded Wisp to chat with fellow Pathfinders, discussing matters of adventure and faith in equal measure.
You see a male and female half-orc who are joyfully laughing and drinking ale. The two half-orcs are the Boartusk Twins, Garl and Shrade. They are members of the Society for the past 3 years, but have only traveled on a handful of missions. It is rumored that the two earned their field commissions after saving the lives of a Pathfinder group deployed in Lastwall, and it’s likely the two half-orcs never fully understood what they were getting into. Since that time, they have participated in missions where brute strength is preferable to diplomacy or finesse. But you know that sadly this means they tend to receive few jobs. Sometimes, people joke that the two enjoy their Pathfinder discount when making purchases from the Wounded Wisp too much to leave the society and of course come to the bar frequently.
On the other side of the bar sits the military historian Yargos Gill, one of the few patrons who bear no direct affiliation with the Society. Despite this, Gill has often found himself wrapped up in the Society’s affairs and he has come to accept the Pathfinders as allies. The older man is sipping from an oversized flagon of ale while reading through a large and ominous-looking tome.
Next to the bar sits Janira Gavix. Having completed her ow n Confirmation several months ago, the female halfling bard enjoys taking breaks at the Wounded Wisp. You have heard that Janira has an extraordinary memory, and that she spends much time here learning about the exploits of other adventurers and relating her own tales with oratorical flourishes.
Looking at her table you have the impression that Janira already has a group of newly confirmed Pathfinders listening to her tales of Society founder Durvin Gest and the fabled Lens of Galundari.
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Malkor is a newcomer to Absalom and the Pathfinder Society, finding himself unsure of any of the patrons.
He will sit at their table, taking his helmet off, and stare at Heryn till their replacement arrives.
"I will take one of your regular spirits. If we must wait then I will be a proper customer." he says in a hoarse voice to whoever comes to take their drink order.
"Are you all new to the Pathfinder Society? Is this what they consider a typical mission..." he asks the others at the table.
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Uoralveren has never been in a bar before. The experience is very new to him. He looks around at all the people and just takes everything in.
Off to the right, he spots a Sarenrite - the holy symbol is very visible. "That must be Aram bin Kaleel - I hear he runs a curios shop in the Coins district."
He also spots a halfling sitting at a bar. The face is very familiar, he's seen her in the halls of the Grand Lodge before. "And that's Janira Gavix. Seems like she's telling grand stories of past Pathfinders."
"Why don't we go find a table or two while we wait as Heryn suggested. I have not heard of this Test of the Starstone. What is it?"
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Valentin catches up to the bar at his leisure and once inside looks around the room. Being a newcomer as well, he doesn’t recognize anyone. He makes his way past the bar. As he passes Malkor, he speaks loudly and without discretion ”Find me when we have the wine so we can finish this fetch quest and leave this....... fine establishment.” With that he makes his way to an empty table, leans his large ornate blade against it, and takes a seat. He puts both feet up, clattering the table loudly, and starts trying to manage his hair.
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"Those are along the lines of what I expected for a mission. However, I don't need protection, Renart, the only risk I see so far is boredom and a slight cold." Malkor responds to the Kitsune, realizing some of the rain penetrated his armor and he literally a bit wet behind his ears.
"Well...my brother may be taken by vanity and sloth at the moment but I will hear what this Janira girl is speaking about, while you talk to the historian." he says placing his gauntlet on the head of Valentin and mussing the hair as he walks by. He approaches the table of Janira and begins to listen to her story, not interrupting.
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A broad-shouldered man adorned in furs too warm for the present climate enters the establishment. He double checks a piece of paper and then looks around the room.
Spotting a familiar halfling at the bar, he walks over to the female bard as she speaks with a number of other Pathfinders. "Janira!" he interrupts with a wide grin. "It is good to be the seeink you again. Are you here to learn about the most recent exploitinks of other agents? Niocholu has been waitink for new mission since the Confirmation time and has new mission for the Drendle Dreng to be bringink a bottle of wine."
Janira turns around to Niocholu and smiles at him.
"Oh hello Niocholu! You look good. Wow, guys look I am already famous!?!" she says laughing to the group around her.
"I need to get another drink!" Janira says to the group she is sitting with and comes to where you all are standing. She orders ale and starts to observe you.
Janira winks at all of you "What is your names guys? And do you fresh agents belong together?" she asks but also lets her view wander to the people in the bar.
Her facial features become a little more serious and she looks at Magellia.
"Nice meeting you! I was just getting a drink! You know, I come to this place because this tavern represents our roots. I sometimes have the feeling that we Pathfinders have forgotten so much of the lessons of the past." she says and waits for a response.
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Magellia’s face maintains its slightly unnaturally blank expression as she responds
”As it has not been long since I was released from slavery with the Technic League I have not forgotten lessons I didn’t learn to begin with.” she pauses thoughtfully ”It is possible the previous soul in this body knew something of the Pathfinders history before this body was manually reset.”
Janira smiles at Magellia but suddenly you all hear a loud roar coming from the male and female half-orc sitting near the table where Jaeron is sitting and you see that the two half-orcs are in the middle of an arm wrestling contest.
Janira looks at the scene and shakes her head ... looks up again to you.
"So why are you all here? To drink and be proud to be a Pathfinder without understanding what that actually means?! I hope not because we have enough of that sort of people around here." and with that last sentence she looks at the two laughing half-orcs.
Janira looks surprised.
“That is a strange mission!“
She turns to the others as well.
"You know, I am a halfling girl with a lifelong love of learning. And I would so much like to offer sincere praise to those who demonstrate a head for knowledge, facts, and figures. Although ... your friend Erôth here needs to improve on that front! So if you strive to not only go on adventures but to really learn something and also learn from the mistakes of our own organizations past, then you are on the right track. Think about the Shadowlodge, think about all deaths caused by overzealous agents." and again she shakes her head.
Then she looks at all of you and you think that she likes to be in the role of an educator and loves inspiring people.
She continues "I extend the question to you, too! Why did you join the Society?"
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"Your sincerity is remarkable, Janira. My brother and I barely survived childhood. Our home is a dark and dangerous place especially for the homeless. Cruelties, hunger, and disease were staples of our younger days...but we were saved by questionable people. Doomsayers and cultists some would call them." he says pausing to look down at the emblem on his chestplate.
He shakes his head, "Even in my dreams I hear whispers about the world being far too gone but I have learned to not trust, even the hand that feeds may try to poison you. I need to see the world and the people in it before I can relent to the urges of by blood. The Pathfinder Society sees the world and works within it, what better place is there for me to be?" he says with a grim bluntness that softens the shock of his words.
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Valentin, who had grumpily followed Malkor after his vain comment, begrudgingly joins the table then looks on in horror as Malkor describes their childhood. After a moment of stunned silence, he collects himself, smug smirk returning to his face, and addresses the entire table, ”Well.... wasn’t that theatrical? No need for any sorrowful looks. My brother is rather prone to bouts of melancholy. What he meant to say is that we all have our hardships but clearly, we can all overcome them with the help of wonderful organizations such as the Pathfinder Society. As you can see, he and I are doing well for ourselves and are in no need for pity. Isn’t that right, brother?” he punctuates the last question with practically growled words through gritted teeth and a hard metallic slap to Malkor’s back.
He looks to Janira now and waves a dismissive hand in the air, ”Whatever reason I joined is mine alone to know about but just know I’m devoted to eliminating all sorts of unseemly characters. And this organization provides me ample opportunity to do so.”
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Instead of heading over to talk with Janira, Uoralveren will wander over to the man Magellia pointed out - Yargos Gill.
"I'm sorry for interrupting. I hope you're not busy right now and are free to chat. I hear you are a historian of sorts - could provide some insight for a question I had.". Uoralveren will wait for him to reply.
If Yargos Gill wants to talk, the elf will continue: "My associate over there - - mentioned that you are a historian and may know something about this Starstone Test. Way up north in the Crown of the World, we had only heard rumors of this test; only a handful of people have succeeded at the task. We do not know what happens afterwards. Could you provide detail so I can bring back that knowledge back home? Do you think this Sir Reinhart of Kenabres has what it takes to pass?"
Yargos looks up with a smile.
”Please! Sit down! You Pathfinders have saved me and I owe you! Despite not being a member of the Pathfinder Society, I am familiar with the organization and have worked with Pathfinders in the past! But I am derailing!“ he says scratching his beard.
”The Test of the Starstone is a test that anyone can take by attempting to reach the Starstone at the center of Absalom. The Starstone is surrounded by a large, deadly maze containing traps, guardians and wards. The exact nature of the obstacles changes over time, but constant hazards include magic not always working right and prevention of extra-dimensional movement. Those few who pass become demigods, while those who fail usually die, although a select few manage to escape, occasionally with great wealth, but no divinity. The first known person to pass the test was Aroden, who did so when he took the stone from the bottom of the sea to the Isle of Kortos in 1 AR when he founded the city of Absalom. Since then, only three of the vast number who took the test have passed: Norgorber, whose life prior to the test is unknown, Cayden Cailean, who took it on a drunken bet, and Iomedae, a worshiper of Aroden who became his herald!“ he says and is a little excited.
”The Test of the Starstone is mysterious; the only publicly known part of the test is that hopefuls must cross the bottomless pit surrounding the Starstone Cathedral without using a bridge. Crossing the pit is a necessary first step, but not sufficient to enter the cathedral and continue the test, and what has worked for one hopeful may fail for another. Hopefuls have leaped across, flown with magic, or used tightropes, and the spectacle of an attempt nearly always draws an enormous, attentive crowd!!“
He looks around.
”There was a fool in this tavern that even wanted to try it today!!“ he says but seems to have forgotten who that was.
Janira listens to the answers of the brothers and nods.
She suddenly seems optimistic and cheerful.
"You guys are alright! I am always eager to assist new or potential field agents. So if you need anything come to me! I spend most of my time either at the Wounded Wisp or on the grounds of the Grand Lodge. Now you have to excuse me, my table is waiting for me!" she says smiling and goes back to the table she was sitting at.
Heryn returns
After about half an hour Heryn comes to your table and says: “Are you ready to go?"
After you all drink and eat what you ordered, you confirm that you are ready and she takes you through the kitchen (A7) where three cooks prepare appetizers and larger meals with a wood-burning stove and several stone-surfaced tables. She opens the door to a back storeroom (A8) where a set of stone stairs leads down from here into the basement level of the Wounded Wisp.
The stairs descend into a tightly packed storeroom (A10) where barrels, boxes, and crates of assorted foodstuffs and drink garnishes are pushed against the walls or under the stairs.
Heryn suddenly has a stern look and says
“If you were not here because of business associated with Dreng I would never let you in here … firstly because it is embarrassing and secondly because I will let you alone down here, what I also do with Dreng. So please enjoy and respect my trust and also Dreng’s I suppose. You will see why I say embarassing because we usually do not use the rooms beyond this room anymore.” and with that she opens the door and shows you the next room (A11) and continues.
”Ahhh … formerly the next room was a meeting room where the staff could converse or take time off between shifts, but this chamber suffered significant damage during the earthquake of 4698. Several fissures split the floor that are leading down to a section of the city’s sewer system. So please, please keep quite about this, okay?” she says with a pleading look.