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While you run about your business, or perhaps pleasure, in and around the Grand Lodge in Absalom, a mysterious courier delivers you a missive, curtly bows and leaves. Upon opening, you read an even more mysterious summons...
Greetings, Pathfinder, your services are required...
You are hereby summoned to meet with me tonight at the Grog Pit. We will meet in the back room there 'ere midnight, at a table attended by a female server. Show her this invitation and she will seat you and see to your beverage needs...
There will be a deck of cards at the center of the table; you will play cards until my arrival...
Until then,
Osprey
As seasoned Pathfinders, you know the Grog Pit as one of Absalom's more notorious dives, a tavern of questionable reputation.
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He received the note from Osprey and scowled. His ability to read the language of humans was rudimentary at best, despite his outward appearance placing him in just that category. But even the thought of trying to do so made his skin crawl. He glanced over at the large beast lounging at the mouth of the alley beside him as if seeking some enlightenment, but it only opened its beak in a huge bored yawn, and went back to napping.
Cursing at it, he quickly glanced around, then grabbed an old man, passing by with a load of kindling bound for somewhere. As if to put him at ease, he smiled brightly... but the rows of teeth, filed to points had the exact opposite effect.
With little preamble, and a few stilted words in common, he handed the note to the old man, and demanded he read him the words written thereon. Any sense that the missive might be private not even entering his mind.
With only minimal resistance the man read the note back to him, his voice only slightly trembling, before the big bear of a man named Shirley Hidesbad grabbed the note back, then released him. The old man quickly scurried away. Crumpling the note into a ball, Shirley tossed it in a nearby merchant's cooking fire, ignoring the owners cries of protest.
With a satisfied nod, he returned to the beast lounging in the alley... a large, lithe creature of fur and feathers, with a wickedly sharp beak. An owlbear!
He attempted to mount the saddle, only to have the creature snap at him, nearly taking off his leg. With a scowl, and smacked it across the head, and swore at it in goblin for a while, before managing to get into the saddle. The owlbear barley seemed to notice the blows. Its eyes gazed on passers by with unnerving intelligence... and perhaps a bit of a predatory nature.
Shirley did not know this Osprey character, a bird of some sort? In the Pathfinder clan, one never knew... He did however know of the Grog Pit. A good place for a drink, and a fight.
Urging Effy, the owlbear forward, he started his way there, paying almost no attention to the pedestrians nearly overrun by claws of his mount. It was their job to move, not his to avoid. Effy seemed to agree with that sentiment, seeming to take special pleasure in adjusting her path slightly so they had to move especially quickly to avoid her.
The large bear of a man known as Shirley Hidesbad shows little evidence of civilization, nor does he appear to care. His hair is matted with some unknown substance that causes it to stick out from around his head in all directions, making his skull seem far larger than it is. His armor, though perhaps once shiny mithril, looks like someone threw a few barrels of dye or paint on it, as the bottom half is an off shade of purple, and greenish splashes cover much of the rest.
His common is rudimentary at best, almost as if were a second language. But he often breaks into small bouts of goblin, which he seems quite fluent in. His weapons appear to back that affiliation up, as both of his main blades seem to be of goblin design, though sized much larger. A shorter blade hangs by his side, with numerous holes drilled through it, to make it even lighter. A goblin dogslicer! Across his back, you see a halberd-like weapon, but with a longer haft. Another goblin weapon more commonly called a horsechopper. The horsechopper's blade does not appear to be metal, but instead seems to consist of some sort of faintly luminescent transparent pale green crystalline substance.
By the time the others arrive, Shirley has already started to play with the cards, tearing a couple up that displeased him for some reason, eating one out of curiosity, and has now started to flicking a them at random passers by.
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The adventurer known as Krazy Kat entered the room. She had got that name because she really liked doing reckless stunts, even ones that risked her own life. She just said she 'lived for the thrill', but sometimes not even being a Pathfinder was enough to satisfy this adrenalin junkie. Her rainbow coloured hair also made her stand out in a crowd. Currently she was wearing her skintight spidersilk armour, as well as sporting a starknife and a HS of Desna. Several belt pouches were around her waist as well as an adventurer's sash loaded with wands a few potions and a wayfinder. In her other hand she was carrying her haversack which looked to have been stuffed full of all sorts of stuff.
She looks over to Shirley Hidesbad although her attention is taken by blade of the horsechopper. Was that jade? Or could it be a piece of the Emerald Spire itself?
She catches one of the flicked cards and tosses it back.
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Andor enters the tavern and looks around.
He is a Kitsune, an anthropomorphic humanoid fox. He is covered with a downy coat of auburn fur.
He sits down at the table and looks at Krazy Kat and Shirley.
He is very thin and looks quite weak but agile.
He wears a unique kind of dragonhide armor that seems to shine. Beneath the armor he is wearing 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 clothing sometimes the holy symbol of Chaldira Zuzaristan is visible.
"Hello everybody, I am Andor." he says with a stern look on his face.
"I think I will leave my human form for a potential surprise if necessary." he says.
”Well, it seems as if this is one of Osprey's urgent missions! I think that it is always reasonable to inform the party of our respective skills. I know quite a lot about alchemy, knowledge of this world and the world beyond it, and I can fight well with my Rapier. That’s it actually! What about you guys?“
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I'm Katrina, usually known as Krazy Kat because of all the crazy things I like to do. I'm a bard turned Sphere Singer actually. I can dream walk, buff you guys, do encouraging songs and dances, as well as dare devil stunts such as acrobatics and escapes as well as being a bit stealthy. I also know bits about everything and I'm also a bit of a charmer. With luck I can diplomicize my way outta trouble.
She flicks another card back onto the table. Dunno if that's what he meant by playing cards, but ..... she finishes that off with a shrug.
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"Hey! Some fool tied up an owlbear out there! It's starting to draw a crowd! Who in Torag's slack tub would keep an owlbear in a city like this?! I had to cuff a stupid kid who wanted to poke it with a stick!" A stocky dwarf hustles in. He has a magnificent red beard and carries a warhammer stamped with the sigil of Torag.
He orders an ale from the server and finds his way to the table. He eyes Shirley's goblin weapons, but takes a seat across from the man. "I was never one much for cards, but that's a new level of disdain, I'd say." He chuckles as the others join in flinging cards around the table.
"I'm Torean Spellbane. If they've asked me here they generally expect some sort of dark magic...Of course that last assignment was, well...not my specialty. I'm a Hammer of Torag, but I've been trained to fight off magicks, especially of the mind." He taps his temple. "Some dark sorcerer might think they have us caught, but I'll walk right through and smash them in the face!"
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Shirley smiles at Katrina, showing his filed down, pointed teeth.
"Bird man send for cat? Don't sound too smart." He says with a slight chuckle at his own joke. He shrugs slightly, before tossing the stack of surviving cards back on the table, and getting up to get another drink, bringing Katrina one as well. You notice they didn't appear to ask him to pay for it.
He glances at Andor, who arrived while he was fetching them, puzzled for a moment, then sits back down, sliding one mug towards the bard.
"Don't come to Grog Pit to play with paper." He says, before grinning again. "Lots more fun things to play."
"Shirley Hidesbad." He finally adds, by way of introduction. "Rider of beasts, mighty warrior of Pathfinder Clan."
When Torean arrives, he laughs heartily. "Kids with stick... they snacks. Learn quick, or don't learn."
"The f&&*ing owlbear outside. Others call her Effy" He shrugs, clearly having never given his mount an actual name, other than curses. It would appear others have done so in his stead though. "Watch fingers. Watch toes. When near. Have trained much fight in her." The last he says proudly showing his pointed teeth again in a wide smile.
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Andor is a little concerned about the owlbear hurting people.
He walks out of the bar and draws a safe passage path with chalk so that pedestrians are not endangered.
He silently comes back to the table.
*
He looks at the newly arrived dwarf with a smile.
”Mr. Spellbane, it is really great to meet you personally! My sister told me about your brave heart during your quest to bring Hao Jin back to Golarion from Axis!“
He looks at the others. ”Yes, Mr. Spellbane has met the renowned sorcerer personally!! Can you believe that?“
Andor takes a deep breath. ”And ... and I heard that you were in Chaldira Zuzaristan’s realm as well!!!“ he says in awe.
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Torean snorts. "F#!+ing owlbear...yeah, ok. It knows friend versus foe? As long we don't have to help and little kids with sticks, yeah?"
The dwarf is surprised by Andor's knowledge. "You're right. A journey to Axis to meet the legendary sorcerer...who is different than you might think. Or at least she is now. And the halfling goddess? Yes, but an odd place that. Not quite to my liking. Halflings can be weird. Now, they had an amazing place called the Adamantine Forge. I could lose myself for days there."
He sighs. "But as I said, that was an odd mission. I was only grateful there were others with me that excelled in a tribunal." He taps on the warhammer's head. "This is not as useful in those settings."
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Suddenly the backroom door shuts and the game’s mysterious host appears—the enigmatic Osprey, an agent of the Pathfinder Society with unclear objectives likely known only to the Decemvirate. Two strangers accompany the lean-featured Chelaxian—a tall man wearing dark robes and a black mask that conceals his face, and a grizzled, prune-skinned gnome, with a slight facial palsy. With his typically cordial but informal manner, Osprey requests everyone be seated, and offers all a mug of Absalom’s worst grog.
Osprey does a double-take as he sees the paladin. "I remember you...Winston? No, no, that's not it...Eorsten! Yes, yes...thank you for your help with that earlier unpleasant...business...you did for us..." He then turns to the rest of you...
“My fellow Pathfinders, I appreciate you making yourselves available on such short notice. I trust the accommodations here are sour enough to keep others from our business. As usual, I prefer to get right to the point.”
Osprey slams a large sack down on the table, a high-pitched yelp bursting from within the bundle as he does so. He quickly reaches into the sack and drags out a tiny pestilent-looking creature by the throat. He beats its head against the table a few more times, and yells, “Settle down before I get careless and snap your damn neck!” Then he pins it down against the table, where it flounders weakly, a bony clump of glinting scales, hollow-eyes, and leathery wings. With his hands still locked on the creature’s throat, he raises his eyes, looks across the table and says, “So, what do you know about demons?”
The Mysterious Visitors (Click Audio Button for Mood Music)
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Torean snorts. "F@!+ing owlbear...yeah, ok. It knows friend versus foe? As long we don't have to help and little kids with sticks, yeah?"
The dwarf is surprised by Andor's knowledge. "You're right. A journey to Axis to meet the legendary sorcerer...who is different than you might think. Or at least she is now. And the halfling goddess? Yes, but an odd place that. Not quite to my liking. Halflings can be weird. Now, they had an amazing place called the Adamantine Forge. I could lose myself for days there."
He sighs. "But as I said, that was an odd mission. I was only grateful there were others with me that excelled in a tribunal." He taps on the warhammer's head. "This is not as useful in those settings."
Andor is really in awe. “This is so great! I know that you did not like it but you were there ... in Chaldira’s realm! You touched the ground that she touched! I would like to kiss your feet!“ he says and it is unclear if he is joking.
—-
Andor steps forward.
“I know almost everything that anybody can know about demons! And this here is a quasit. Pretty harmless. Why are you torturing it?!“
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"Can't say 'o's got th' worse manners 'ere Osprey - you, th' demon, or th' owlbear outside." A hooded man leans against the wall, chewing a stalk of grass between his words. "An' save th' dramatics fer the theater. Jus' get t' th' point. You ain't called fer some of th' oldest agents in th' Lodge just t' deal with some quasit."
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Osprey seems pleased that you seemed to know a little about demons. “Excellent, you are correct it is a quasit; you know at least a bit...but no matter, you’re capable enough either way. As for his treatment, if he'd cooperate, we wouldn't have to coerce the information out of him at all; quasits are such vile creatures. And no, you'll be dealing with demons much more...capable.” Then he violently suggests to the tiny demon that it shall soon reveal to all present some very important information. Calming himself, he apologizes for his forgetfulness and formally presents his guests. The decrepit-looking gnome he introduces as Xersus Abergris, an expert demonologist and historian. After handshakes, he nods to his second companion and says to you, “Please, offer your complete attentions to my most esteemed guest.” The cloaked man steps forward and addresses you in an eerily dry monotone.
“I represent the Decemvirate. I’ve come to oversee these proceedings as they are of personal interest to me. Osprey and Xersus shall speak on my behalf, unless I find it necessary to intervene. As far as you are all concerned, you have never seen me. Do I make myself clear?”
The Mysterious Visitors (Click Audio Button for Mood Music)
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Shirley chuckles as the unhappy quasit is dumped out the sack. He knows little of demons of devils or whatever it is the bird man is going on about, but getting information out of something small in a sack... he knew all about that... from both ends.
When it becomes apparent further information gathering was not on the immediate itinerary, he instead he reaches for the newly preferred mug of grog, takes a long sip, winces slightly, then takes another.
As the Decemvirate member speaks, and everyone suddenly starts paying attention, Shirley reaches over and snatches Andor's mug as well, then contentedly leans back, mug in each hand, alternating long swigs from both.
You're not sure he's listened to a word that's been said since Osprey entered.
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The mysterious cloaked man nods at either the acquiescence or silence to his query; he gives the slightest of nods to Osprey who in turn nods to Xersus; the gnome then rises to address you.
“One of the problems with demons is their complete lack of organization. We sages have very little to work from when investigating and cataloging them. Devils of course, keep lengthy records, but with these things,” he pauses to disdainfully poke the quasit, “these things couldn’t tell you the name of their own mother. This makes the job of studying and cataloging them very important. Many years ago, I used to work with a cleric and expert demonologist named Baldimar Trud. Trud was also a revered cleric of Cayden Cailean, and guided all of his research to assist in the fight against these infernal brutes. Still, the church had few available funds for his elaborate studies, and thus he sought out and received funds from other investors, including significant patronage from the Society. Over the course of several years, he built a research laboratory and compiled an extensive archive. Unfortunately, we have seen none of his work since he died before revealing its location. After Cayden’s Hall burned down the last time, I thought his works gone forever. Though a few days ago, I came upon this little fellow going through my personal notes—notes concerning my old friend Baldimar. I don’t believe this is a coincidence and strongly believe this fellow shall soon tell us why he was in my possessions. After that, I’m sure Osprey has a plan for you.”
Osprey smirks. "Since some of you disagree with my interrogation methods, I'll give you a shot at persuading information from this irritating pest..."
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Kat casts Comprehend Languages on herself then addresses the quasit.
Now the way I see it ... you can play nice and answer our questions like a good little demon, or I'm going to restrain you ... then give you a rendition of songs ... in Celestial.
Oh .. I should point out ... if we start playing good cop, bad cop, I'm usually the good one.
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"We really are not the enemy here and you also should think about the new alliances that you can build! Forget about the past demonic masters that were abusing you. Think about us and what we could do to make your life a little more livable. Like not being hit against the table all the time!" he says.
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The quasit cackles hideously at the diplomacy attempts; he spits out, "You so nice...I tell you NOTHING," and rolls around laughing. "Even little demon not scared of ugly humanoids," he smirks, sticking his tongue out and gives everyone a Bronx cheer...
But when Shirley mentions table hitting and slams his massive fists on the the table as a demonstration, the quasit jumps and shrieks in fear...leaving a little wet spot from his previous position. Lookng meekly at the hunter, he says, "Meesa just kidding...I tell you what I know..."
The quasit reveals that after long years, he recently heard his master’s voice again—Graz’ith Ur Maurgith, a powerful demon to whom he is bound for all eternity. Obligated to serve his master, he’ll actually turn against him and help you as he doesn’t particularly relish the idea of eternal servitude and has enjoyed the freedom of a having a missing master. The voice of Graz’ith came from somewhere within Cayden’s Hall. "Meesa not know exactly from where..." Finished, the quasit shrugs.
From Osprey's seat, the look on his face has an I told you so feel to it...
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Kat takes notes while frowning.
I was considering finding out if a quasit could breath water if he didn't talk she said. So I guess we're going to have to search Cayden's Hall for this .... erm ..... Grazzer Morgoth creature She deliberately mangles the name, just in case.
So. Quasit. Unless you want to find yourself restrained in an aquarium and attempting to be a fish, tell us more about your master. What sort of demon is he? What are his abilities?
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The quasit quivers in fear at Krazy Kat's words. "Meesa just hear Master's voice in Cayden's Hall...Master be big, very stinky demon, always angry and mean...heard dying humanoids dat Master kill keep saying 'He's rude!' Dat all Meesa knows..."
Osprey nods and turns to you. "That's good enough for me. I want you all to travel to Cayden's Hall and investigate; first, find the High Priestess Saphira and ask what she knows. Should you find out anything, send word to me immediately, especially if you find yourselves out of your depth...
"Now gather your gear, make any last minute purchases, and get a good night's sleep. You leave tomorrow morning..."
The mysterious cloaked figure rises, murmuring only, "Excuse me," as he slips out a back exit, and seemingly vanishes.
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After a late night of drinking, at least for some of you, and a morning spent prepping/shopping for the excursion, you meet up with your comrades and head through the busy streets of Absalom. You arrive at Cayden's Hall in the afternoon and find that the drinking and revelry have already begun...
Cayden’s Hall is a massive, open fest hall of rough-hewn timbers. The latter have been replaced many times over the years thanks to their predecessors being burnt to cinders when the large, celebratory bonfires often burning within the wooden structure mixed badly with the very large and very inebriated crowds frequenting the establishment. You walk up the stairs to the entry hall and enter...
This antechamber serves as the Hall’s main entrance. It consists of a long hallway flanked on either side by rows of barstools facing parallel oaken bars that run the length of the hall. Massive kegs set into the walls behind the bar allow clergy members to quickly address the needs of their patrons and petitioners. About half the taproom’s stools already seat drunken revelers at the long oaken bars. The boisterous patrons hoist their tankards, raising slurred toasts and praises amid the tall tales of wild adventure. Two temple guards stand at the front door, greeting you as you enter.
"Greetings and well met, my friends! You are welcome here...but I'm afraid your animals will have to wait outside. You can either tether them at the post there or they can rest in our stables out back. What business have you at Cayden's Hall?"
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Shirley grins at the sight of Cayden's Hall... any signs of his previous night's debauchery not evident.
"See. Other drinks!" He crows contentedly, as he ushers Effy off to the side along the edge of the building, away from the door.
He starts pointing and waving his arms around, whilst talking angrily at the beast in a strange sharp language you think is goblin, but the owlbear doesn't seem particularly interested in listening. She thunks down on the ground with a loud huff, and starts kneading her feathers with her beak, apparently ignoring Shirley, which just gets him swearing more, in annoyance.
Eventually, he shrugs, and wanders back to the others, either giving up or reaching an impasse, its hard to say. You do note that Effy, though seeming to be resting, keeps her eyes open, watching anyone that comes nearby with a predatory gleam.
"F!#~ing owlbear. Let find own food then." He grumbles... though you worry that might be the owlbear's intention all along.
"Time for drink!" Shirley continues, as he enters the hall.
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The temple guard smiles. "Well, you're in luck, she's in the Oratorium; that's just north of the main hall. I hear her jester is putting on quite the performance there..."
Just as the temple guard speaks, a two clerics of Cayden approach, speaking curtly. "The High Priestess Saphira is not accepting solicitations today, you should leave now," one of them says while nodding to the door...
You notice the curious look the temple guards give one another upon hearing this and both shrug...
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The cleric in red bristles. "How dare you enter our Halls and declare a follower of Cayden a liar! You are not welcome here! You will leave immediately or you will be thrown out! Guards, escort these malcontents out..."
The guards look at each other, clearly confused, then look to you. "I'm sorry, but we must do as they say. You must leave now...perhaps you can come again at a later time...probably a much later time..."