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You have each received the following Invitation:
Pathfinders,
I do hope you’ll join us at the Grand Lodge for the celebration to congratulate the most recent group of initiates. I have to say, I’m proud of how far you’ve come since you were an initiate, and I look forward to seeing you support the next generation of Pathfinders. Besides that, gatherings like this are an excellent opportunity to rub elbows with the Society’s leadership and get to know them. That means you’ll always be quick to know about the best opportunities as soon as they arise. I hope you’ll take advantage of the event to put your best foot forward.I’m looking forward to seeing you there!
—Janira Gavix, Pathfinder Society Head Initiate
So with what you have you make your way to the Grand Lodge and meet other novice pathfinders waiting to get in to the main hall.
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Darkness. Light.
Not remembering how he came into this world - nor his earliest years - except how they Felt (and more on that later) - his earliest memories were of his uncle’s rough hands keeping a young Lough away from the sharp implements that decorated the shop - axes, hammers, chisels, all made of dried skin, dead wood, and cold iron - until such a time he would encode a rigorous set of routines directing one’s preoccupations towards measures that would minimize the drawing of blood or formation of clot by cut or bruise. And Lough would still develop plenty of those over the course of his apprenticeship, slaying animals and emptying them of their guts to hang in the unrelenting sun, chopping into the rings of aged saprolings that had matured but were stripped of their fruit, plunging hunks of ore into blazing furnaces before bludgeoning them repeatedly with those same implements that were once forbidden to touch. Life has a strangely cruel sense of humor. Or at least that is a conclusion the young man would eventually draw. But not yet.
Lough did not possess a lexicon out of a working range of basic conversation and workshop jargon. Curt, but courteous. His uncle taught him to have manners, respect his elders, brook for children at play, and not to speak ill of other people even when they were not around to hear. Besides, he quickly grew very competent in his skill, and possessed of a youthful constitution, soon enough became able to outpace his mentor without giving on quality. The implements they made together - and sold or bartered in town - where a source of pride, first in his uncle, and aptly instilled into him. People would talk about how “I barely have to swing this axe” or “this hammer never breaks” or other remarks that stood as a testement to the craftmanship involved. And the first change went barely unnoticed becasue of it - Lough’s fingernails were incredibly sharp and strong, iron working like wood in his grasp, wood like leather, and leather like textile. If his uncle noticed, he never mentioned it. That didn’t stop lough from hiding his hands when he went out; maybe wearing his heavy work gloves, maybe always carrying around other objects, or at the end of the week at the local pub, simply keeping them in his pockets.
As his weeks began to take upon a clockwork rythm - 6 days of hard work at his uncle’s shop, piecemail work for the local lumberer at high demand, and always at the pub the 7th day - a coworker of his (from the lumber consortiom) expressed curiosity towards the very thing he meant to hide, and Lough found himself telling this coworker a story about a family member who did not exist, embarking on a quest that did not happen, and meeting a gruesome end that was inexplicably gory. He couldn’t believe his own words as they flowed from his mouth! Pronouncing words he had never even heard before! And the look on this coworker’s face! Sure enough, the feat was asked by others to be repeated, two or three times now, starting small, then burgeoning into what felt like the whole pub sitting in and listening in - surprised each time the story took a turn for the worse! Walking away from the pub that night, Lough danced as though on a cloud, a constellation of emotions that included both euphoria and sorrow, surprise as well as a deep-seated sense of order. It dawned on him in this walk home that there had been a second change: The stories he had been telling had happened: Happened in a dream he had forgotten.
But there were more.
Restless nights of sleep under terrors of imagination, Lough would wake up in cold sweats, having “lived” as someone else and met a terrible fate - in a word, “died” - only to wake up, back into the clockwork machine that was his post-somnambulant experience set. He was asked again, the following 7th day, and the next, and the next after that, and so on, to continue telling new stories, each which flowed from his mouth without thought, each that had mapped directly onto a dream he had “forgotten” earlier that week, each time to the look of uproarious shock his audience of coworkers, barkeeps - and eventually other patrons in this town and the next - retained when the story concluded with some awesome turnabout. It became not a thing that he chose to do. But instead, the thing itself chose to have itself done by him. Lough - despite his growing popularity - began to succumb to a nagging sense of non-control, growing like a tiny seed in the back of his mind, embedding roots into the very sense of self that his uncle had worked to diligently to build in him. Verging on the brink of something… else?
Seasons turned - as they do - and Lough had developed a new habit of sneaking out into the local wooded area - either in the dead of night or the first light of morning - to spend time with himself with nature. When he couldn’t sleep - or wouldn’t sleep - he came out here, spending hours by himself, the soft chirp of crickets or birds, the excess cold of winter or heat of summer suffusing his skin, the sun’s rising embers or the moon’s creeping glow casting over him. Unlike everything else in his life, there was no real pattern to this. Sometimes weeks or months woudl fly by without his return. Sometimes only days between. Sometimes hours. And Lough liked it like that. He still went to work 6 days a week and storytelling on 7th days. But into that perfect order, he managed to work in a little uncertainty - a little unpredictability. In a sense, this was Lough “taking back” what had been “taken” from him - even if he couldn’t really articulate what it was that had been lost. No matter. He had managed to retore the balance, and found himself able to thrive in this newly restored equilibrium.
…
But it was only short lived. It happened in one night, a third change, in a dream. She was there, and she had never been there before, and what was more strange, that instead of being someone else, Lough was himself. He was aware that he was himself. And that he was dreaming. And aware that the dream was aware of him. And she was there. He felt her in his throat. Like she was watching from inside of his throat. Watching him. She began to whisper. A language Lough had never heard, but intuitively understood. A language he Felt. Whispers to come. But come where? He thought to himself, reasoned that he was already here, and so, could not “go” anywhere else. But she didn’t listen - she only spoke. Lough learned things from her. Like an infant. He Felt about things. About things to come. About things that would happen to him. About things that he would barely live through, that he would survive, that in surviving he would pay a cost, a cost that was too high to pay, that he would have to live with himself knowing he had paid it. And she never lied!
But this dream Lough never “woke up” from - she simply stopped talking to him. He went back to bed, layed there. When the sun was up, he went to work with his uncle. He visited his wooded area. He stayed until dark. She visited him there. More speaking, more visions, visions testing his mortality, visions of losing things he cared for. There was an accident at work that day. Lough had been cutting down a tree - using proper technique and exceedingly compliant safety measures - but the tree fell and killed one of his coworkers. Just as she said it would. And just like she said he would, Lough was not held accountable, and the event was deemed an “accident”. Except it wasn’t an accident. Lough “knew” it would happen, and did nothing to prevent it. That night, when she spoke to him, in addition to more dire visions, she spoke about this event, and about another. There was a second accident that week. Similar circumstances, similar results. Lough was there, witnessed it, again was not blamed - despite the coincidence! - and left with the guilt of inaction. She stopped coming for a period of time. But just when Lough thought she’d never return, she did. And more of the same. To his pattern of life, was added not only his seemingly random departures into the woods, but too these seemingly random arrival’s of this Matron (as he would come to call her). And slowly the everpresent sense of looming dread that had plagued his mind, his heart, his soul, dis-integrating them of their once vigourous passion for sheer existance, began to slowly, slowly, slowly eat away at what he had created for himself to escape it.
Light. Darkness.
...
From the Northeastern corner of Old Cheliax - a tiny town called Breachill dotting the "glorified trade route" of Isger - Lough travels by foot through the Shining Kingdoms, and boarding a boat from somewhere in Andoran, sails the Inner Sea to the island nation of Absalom, turning up on the Grand Lodge...
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A small squat, mushroom heading leshy with several gray and decaying tendrils shudders in as he looks over his missive once more. dozens of eyes and sharp pointed teeth line its face like some grotesque monster. He had not always been this way. In fact a small red corrupted Abyssal shard from Finadar lay imbedded in his body that caused his body to decay slightly.
A vined hand rubs his head as a shrill child-like voice calls out that doesn't match the appearance. "I'm Berry!"
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"Hues of glory!" enthusiastically shouts a ruddy, human youth when he first spies that a missive from Janira Gavix had been placed among the array of brushes, trowels, and paints scattered across his desk. Putting down his brush, he eagerly tears into the envelope of the letter with his finger, still covered with fresh paint. His efforts leaving behind abstract lines and swatches of paint on the paper.
"A celebration!" Athelsted announces with glee as his eyes follow the pen strokes across the halfling's letter. "I wonder just who I'll meet!"
He glances over at his hand-embroidered vestments. "Oh, I do hope that these are suitable enough for such festivities." he notes as he begins to don them.
Next his eyes settle upon an ornately-carved crossbow on the edge of his desk. He pauses for a moment. "I doubt I'll have use for you." he explains to the object, expecting no response in return. "Although...Janira did suggest coming prepared for adventuring opportunities, did she not?"
The young man shrugs, slings the crossbow over his shoulder, and removes his glaive from where it rests, slanted against the wall next to the doorframe. Humming a happy tune, he then departs out the door.
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Lough smiles at the plant's grotesque array of spindly teeth, conjuring in him the memory of a dream involving a creature from another plane bearing similar surplus canines before swallowing him whole. "Ofcourse" he thinks to himself, his paranoia convincing him that "She" is watching. He snaps back into the moment.
"Berry? I am called Lough" he nods his head in salutation.
Having come to Absalom to "find himself" - silly as that sounds - in actuality, to "escape" himself?! - Lough spent the last few months looking for work and settling into a small rented flat. Using the money he earned from a job with a smithy - who hired him on the spot seeing his facility around a forge - being himself somewhat illiterate, he has spent his money twice now to pay a scribe to write a letter to his uncle, a cherished relationship he wanted to maintain despite the change in his circumstances. It was a customer who saw the silver sword he crafted that put the idea in his ear, and a week ago, Lough set out to see who these "Pathfinders" were. Allowed to attend a lecture on the Occult (entitled "Transitive Manifestations of Othogonal Planar Anomalies"), this served to catalyze in him a new curiosity - to reconcile his spiritual troubles (or at least to understand them!) - and he signed up to be trained in the way of Spells. A quick study, he was quickly promoted to Agent, and tasked with attending this party, having had the missive dictated to him by a colleague.
"You are a magnificent creature" an honest compliment payed without conceit, Lough's "small town mentality" perhaps showing through. Finally "I hate celebrations..." the metaphorical cloud following him around striking in thunder!
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Glancing over the letter, the bald headed dwarf grunts. Grabbing his pack, he glances towards the corner of his room and smiles. "Dredge, seems we're fin'ly getting recognized. Com'mon. We've got us a party to go to."
The serpent slithers alongside the dwarf as they make their way towards the Grand Lodge.
'Hmmm haven't spent much time here as of late. Since they sent me out with a couple groups it just didn't seem...necessary.'
Winding his way through the corridors, memories flashing through his mind, he pauses suddenly at the sight of the leshy creature. "Oye! What'er...Berry?"
With a slight shake of his head, he nods to the mushroom headed creature. "Pleasure ta meetcha. I'm Jorgran and this fine specimen is Dredge. He's a big hugger...well he will be when he's all grown."
'Can't we ever meet outside? These indoor shindigs always make me uncomfortable...I can't even imagine how Dredge feels...At least a mushroom can appreciate the natural order of things!'
Nervously thumbing his axe, he looks around the room again. "Seems a bunch are gettin initiated this day."
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Even during the best of times in his element, Lough feels out of his element. To say nothing of being in a big city. To say nothing of attending a grand initiation. Looking around the room awkwardly, he spies Jorgran thumbing his axe nervously. Looking down at his own weapon, he mimics the motion, seeking to soothe his own anxiety.
After a beat, he kneels down "Dredge friendly?" leaning on the haft of his sword with both arms to balance against his crouching ankles and pointed blade like a tripod.
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Striding boldly into the room, looking about as if expecting to be recognized by adoring fans at any moment, is a dun-colored goblin, a prominent tail wrapping up behind his shoulder. His garish clothing, clearly hand-made of cheap fabric intensely-dyed, draws your eye wherever he moves, as does the oversized tricorn hat he wears.
"What ho, fellow agents!" The ostentatious creature bows, doffing his hat with a dramatic flair, before he continues. "A fine day for a party, I think, and a fine opportunity as well. Lucky for me, we haven't started tech week yet for Pirates of Pezzack. The names Poob, nice to meet you!"
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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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There seem to be four main individuals gathering attention each with a few notable other esteemed pathfinders around them:
Leader of the Horizon Hunter Faction
Former captain of the Grinning Pixie and faction leader most likely to be mistaken for a pirate, Calisro Benarry leads the Horizon Hunters, but she doesn’t stand on ceremony. Her leadership often boils down to pointing out blank spots on the map to her agents. Although the half-orc can get serious in a crisis, this certainly isn’t that time.
With her is Ambrus Valsin Steward of the Grand Lodge
Ambrus is a tall, tan man with meticulously groomed hair and mutton chops. He runs the daily operations of the Grand Lodge with a keen eye for details while also overseeing Pathfinders’ missions in Absalom.
Ambrus appreciates agents who work hard and stay out of trouble
Leader of the Envoys Alliance Faction
Friendly but driven, Fola Barun has dedicated herself to growing and nurturing the Pathfinder Society, and she’s been a strong supporter of the recent drive to bring in new members.
With her is Gloriana Morilla Former Leader of the Sovereign Court
Lady Gloriana Morilla’s Taldan heritage is obvious from her dark hair and aquiline nose, but her clothing and accessories are more reserved than most Taldan nobles would prefer. She long led the Sovereign Court, an international organization supporting young nobles across Avistan
Because of her heavy involvement in international diplomacy, Gloriana appreciates those who understand the nuances of her work.
Leader of the Vigilant Seal Faction
Eando has a long history with the Pathfinder Society, and only recently has he settled into his position as leader of the Vigilant Seal faction. He’s the least friendly of the faction leaders, but he puts a great deal of faith in the rank-and-file agents.
With him is Urwal Leader of the Verdant Wheel Faction
The mysterious lizardfolk Urwal has made himself a fixture of life at the Grand Lodge. He is best known for his unrequested yet benign intrusions, whether it be breaking into Kreighton Shane’s office to drop off stacks of Pathfinder Chronicles riddled with corrections and commentary, rearranging disordered collections, or drawing insightful astrological maps on the ground outside of the Lodge.
Urwal believes that each living being has its own way of relating to the natural world. In his view these connections are part of a glorious tapestry worthy of study rather than interference, so long as they don’t lead to corruptions like undeath
Leader of the Grand Archive Faction
As leader of the Grand Archive, Gorm is impressed by knowledge in all its forms, but he holds a special fondness for tales and jokes that bring knowledge to life. Conversations with Gorm often leave the impression of a lively, fun uncle rather than a stuffy sage
With him is Tamrin Credence Former Leader of the Liberty’s Edge Faction
A halfling man with brown hair, Tamrin gained his several visible facial scars serving as a distraction to facilitate the liberation of several dozen halfling slaves in Cheliax. Ever since, he has worked on behalf of Liberty’s Edge, a largely independent faction that sometimes coordinates with the Pathfinder Society.
Tamrin enthusiastically discusses elements of disguise and the complexities of stamping out the slave trade.
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Lough pets the snake, discovering it is friendly "You're all muscle!" as if the creature possessed speech and could talk back.
As Poob makes his entrance, Lough's jaw drops. Living with many goblins back home, he has never seen one with so much... confidence? He accidentally moves his hands as if to clap, but quickly stops himself, slightly embarrassed. Committing to hiding his mistake, he turn his attention to the room with all the guests, and swallows hard.
Fortunately, his Faction Leader, Eando Kline, is situated at the corner of the room closest to him, flanked by the curious-looking Urwal. Lough strains his ear to hustle the topics of their conversation, working up the courage to speak once he can glean what might be something relevant he could add to the conversation.
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Cariad looks a bit uncomfortable at the crowded party, but she delights in meeting Dredge. "Who's a good boy?"
She, in turn, introduces her leopard friend, Candela. Candela is on fire. Cariad does not seem concerned about this.
"Uuuuugh, we have to talk with strangers? I thought we could just show up and eat food and stuff. Oh, at least there's Urwal; he's cool."
Cariad joins Lough near Eando and Urwal's conversation.
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Eando and Urwal are in a esoteric discussion on the "Nature of Evil" and how the Pathfinder Society should deal with it. Of course listening in the two faction leaders are talking two completely different train of thoughts. Eando is focusing on "Evil" and Urwal is showing how the "Nature" is the true idea of focus. What is needed here is a good translator to get them at least on a similar page. Or at least the same book.
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"Shades of Radiance! There's so many Pathfinders!" Athelsted says quietly to himself upon arriving at the party. "And is that the famed Eando Kline?"
The young man tries to catch his reflection in a discarded silver tray in order to adjust his somewhat unruly hair. Once satisfied, he approaches the noted Pathfinder and the serpentfolk engaged with him.
"Apologies," he says interrupting, "but I could not help but overhear your exchange. As a student and devotee of the Incorruptible and the Eternal Rose, I have learned to recognize evil as an unnatural source of corruption that twists both body and soul alike. Like a discordant note, it cares not whether it disrupts the burbling of the brook or the whole of a symphony."
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Turning to the leopard with a smile, Jorgran stops suddenly. "Uh...dear...it she supposed to be aflame? I...alright then. Pleasure."
With a sigh at Janira's words, he takes in the room once more. His eyes falling on Calistro, he nods. 'May as well check in wich da leader.'
With but a motion, Dredge falls in alongside the man making his way across the room. Blending into the edge of the crowd, he listens for a moment to see where the conversation may be leading.
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Lough's demeanor suddenly changes, his eyes rolling back some exposing only the whites, as if accessing a deeper or darker resevoir of his linguistic center to respond with "Your first presumption, it would seem..." addressing Althelsted, whose name Lough has not yet learned "...would be that this 'evil' you are referring to is some universally objective force, instantly recognizable, and in all ways, of an immutable essence" he pauses here to examine how this artist takes in his words "And second, that in so 'twisting' or 'disrupting', that the 'body' or 'brook' or 'symphony' would be the worser off" another brief pause before concluding with a question to challenge the premise "Is it not fathomable that, given all entities, knowable and unknowable, of the fabric of our shared experience are set in relation to one another (by whatever forces that be), that a descriptor such as 'evil' or 'twisted' or 'disrupted' is little more than a relative measure?" and adding the post-script to rhetoric "After all, what is a disrupted body or twisted brook anything other than something that was lived in, and met with the passage of time, existed through a process of change?"...
...Whatever aspect of Lough spoke these words just as suddenly leaves him. He is aware that he spoke them, as are the words aware that they were spoken from his lips, and he meets his peers with look of mixed expression: At once curious but serious but surprised!
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"As my strange friend here said...I think...I didn't really follow, to be honest...well, as the famous line says:" With this, the goblin steps back, raising his hand in a dramatic pose, as if on stage.
“Good with out evil is like light with out darkness which in turn is like righteousness whith out hope.”
"And anyway, what's the fun in that?"
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Althelsted easily joins in the discussion with Urwal and Eando and helps the two start to understand each other. Cariad is also able to add her insights as well getting the two leaders closer. However Poob's enigmatic non sequitur somehow is the key that allows the two to see eye to eye.
With the discussison completed Eando turns to the three of you. "Well you seem like a capable bunch. I have a little task for you."
“Some time ago, a whistleblower revealed a possible threat to Absalom related to one of the siege castles. In response, however, that individual was silenced and eventually petrified during the Charge of the Gorgon. I suspects foul play and I have leveraged his contacts to get a writ allowing the victim to be restored, I need you to take this writ, restore the fellow and learn what you can about this alleged threat to our city.” He gives you a greater salve of antiparalysis with explicit instructions that it be used only on the target.
“And since you were able to help me better understnd my fellow leader, if you need any information around town, you can drop my name to help loosen lips, but don’t over use it”
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The conversation between Ambrus and Calisiro is a heated though friendly exchange about the thoroughness of some of the agents. Although the two disagree on some points of when a leader should lead by example or not, they both agree that any endeavor usually requires simple labor and work. Amburs turns to Jorgan and in a commanding voice, "You! I know you are somewhat new to the society, but how are you with your hands and doing a honest day's labor when called for?"
* Eando/Urwal - 3 success (COMPLETED)
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"Sadly, didn't make 'er myself. Tis a family heirloom."
Turning back to the leader of his faction, Jorgran swallows hard before responding. "I do believe a good honest labor is better than one's honey-tongued lies. I can get down in the dirt and help build a wall much easier than convince you it should be done."
Realizing his words are simply that...words, he frantically looks around a moment and tries to pickup the table.
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Lough is delighted to be the second-most-awkward at the party. He reacts to catch the table Jorgran nearly dropped!
As if absolutely nothing went amiss, Lough continues "It's a fine weapon" a brief pause "This:" he presents his own sword now for Jorgran to try in his hand "is to be an heirloom I will pass down. Traditions have to start somewhere. But first, I have to find my sister. I've never met her. But in a dream. And that is a story for another day."
He turns to Ambrus and explains how he was taught that it is precisely the absence of hard work that tempts unto idleness and indolence, traits which then act as a gateway for other aberrant qualities of personal or communal consequence.
As he speaks, he manages to alienate himself - for if what he was saying was true, wouldn't that have meant his own life would have taken a different turn somewhere? He had been raised right, bestowed a firm moral compass, learned and excelled at his trade, and yet, fallen victim to some outside entity that plagues his mind and soul!?! Perhaps Lough was "special" in that the universals that govern other mortal lives somehow apply to him in reverse? That he is in a sense an inverted being?
Lough does his best to encloak this strange pin needle of anxiety that scrapes against the back of his thoughts as he talks...
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Ambrus nods curtly at your displays. "Well it is a good effort, and I do see some potential here. Calisro, always a pleasure, I wish you good luck with your....endeavors."
As Ambrus leaves, Calisro shakes her head. "That man needs a good long voyage away from there and get back to the joy of things. Too much time cooped up in this hall is bad for anyone."
She then smiles to herself. "Though adventure can be found inside houses some times. I have a challenge for a group such as yourselves. "
“A partially collapsed house in the Precipice Quarter, long rumored to be haunted, has been marked for demolition in the next few days. I think someone like you could gain themselves a good story by staying in the house overnight before it’s demolished. Not only would such an endeavor prove their mettle and provide them with experience camping in potentially unfriendly territory, but they might also learn interesting tidbits about the house’s former owners. After all,” she adds, “not every discovery requires weeks of grueling travel.”
* Eando/Urwal - 3 success (COMPLETED)
* Calisro/Ambrus - 2 success (COMPLETED)
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This party moves at a dizzying pace. Have we agreed to do two missions now? Into a city that petrifies it's whistleblowers, and overnight in a haunted mansion? I don't think I like the sound of either of those.
He watched earlier as Poob pocketed the salve given to them by the venture captain. Now he follows the nightmare bush to visit Fola Barun.
...
“Some time ago, a whistleblower revealed a possible threat to Absalom related to one of the siege castles. In response, however, that individual was silenced and eventually petrified during the Charge of the Gorgon. I suspects foul play and I have leveraged his contacts to get a writ allowing the victim to be restored, I need you to take this writ, restore the fellow and learn what you can about this alleged threat to our city.”
“A partially collapsed house in the Precipice Quarter, long rumored to be haunted, has been marked for demolition in the next few days. I think someone like you could gain themselves a good story by staying in the house overnight before it’s demolished. Not only would such an endeavor prove their mettle and provide them with experience camping in potentially unfriendly territory, but they might also learn interesting tidbits about the house’s former owners. After all,” she adds, “not every discovery requires weeks of grueling travel.”
greater salve of antiparalysis (w/ Poob)
&
bonus to Gather Information throughout this adventure
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Fola and Gloriana are having a lovely discussion better ways for the society to improve its image. Fola has grand plans but Gloriana still thinks the old ways of playing nice in society has its place. Seeing you approach, Gloriana addresses you, "I know you may chomping at the bit to get out to some dusty rune, but how are you have to entertain dignitaries? Do you know the ins and out any of the cities on Golarion?"
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"If you are asking whether I have the ability to entertain, then I may I humbly submit my act for your noble consideration of its artistic merit. 'Tis an epic I've learned in my travels that should be familiar to one ranked among the citizens of Taldor." offers Athelsted before he recites the first nines stanzas of the "Colossus of Kitharodes", the tale of stone giant who stood as an unmoving sentry over an ancient city until the music of a Taldan bard compelled him to dance until he fell into the sea.
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Lough sits down for story time - he "identifies" as the stone giant in the story, even cries when he falls into the sea, achieving some catharsis.
Then he describes all the best places in his hometown that one can expect to hear stories, who those people are, and generally, what kinds of stories they are liable to tell.
He likens Althelsted's storytelling ability to the town drunk who, at a proper time of 7th-day evenings, laments about his sad life using Taldan prose with borrowed slang words and poetic turns of phrase from Dwarven.
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Groaning as the discussion turns to entertaining dignitaries, Gildruk growls. "I am quite better suited in the wild, but I have picked up a thing or two about the legalities of such places."
Not to be outdone by his companions, the dwarven man begins explaining the ways one could find themselves on a bounty hunters list...though a few things may be a bit off. Among other things, he shares being out past 6th candle is a crime in Absalom.
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Gloriana is somewhat impressed. "You still have much to learn but I see potential. If you would excuse me Fola." With that Gloriana takes her leave.
"It seems there is still much work to be done. I have something that needs attending"
“A scholar at the College of Mysteries has been working on an interesting new ritual that’s has led to considerable division among her colleagues. She’s been under growing pressure to leave the college, so now might be a good time to contact her, determine if she would be a good fit for the Pathfinder Society, and, if so, recruit her.”
You make your way to Grom and Tamrin. They seem to be having a lively discussion on various exploits of cunning and liberation. The halfling greets you, "Well, well, well. Initiates. I know we teach many good ways of dealing with our problems. But how are you at, shall we say, more circuitous methods. Or even a little espionage. "
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Marveling that he has broken the "6th candle" law nearly every night - being that he often works until exactly that time - Lough decides that it must be thereby illegal for him to exist at all, easily integrating that concept into his greater worldview. He shoots Jorgran an eyebrow.
Then shares with the group that he thinks the best way to "hide" is to do so in the open, and describes some of the types of things you can observe just by peoplewatching, and furthermore, by establishing yourself as a non-observer when observed by whom you are observing, which if successful, leaves the option open later to shift your observation from passive to active, should the situation demand so, as Cariad has demonstrated.
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"Truth is love; love is beauty." chimes Athelsted. "Deception services neither."
"It has been said, 'Good actors are good liars', but such is itself a falsehood." he opines. "A liar spouts imagined truths so to convince others to act accordingly. But, an actor spouts truths convincingly in accord with others' imaginations."
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With Poob's excellent suprise and Althelsted's brilliant sweet talking, Tamrin is happily satisfied. "Heh, I think we could make a fine Bellfolower agent out of you Master Poob."
Gorm bids a fond farewell to his fellow Pathfinder leader and then turns to you. "You are all definately a capable lot here"
“A sunken ship has recently washed up on a reef not far from Absalom. I have heard that the smugglers using it as a safe house are involved in smuggling texts and possibly living creatures from Nex. The books are valuable enough that I would rather they’d not be left lying around. Also I am interested in any information the you can find about the smugglers’ methods.”
Gorm pulls you aside and whispers, “I have something you might find useful. I have a few extra scrolls on me right now, if one would be useful feel free to take it.” He has scrolls of disrupting weapons, heal, and magic missile to offer, you may pick one.
Calisro -- Haunted House Dare
Fola -- The Museum Ritualist
Eando -- The Petrified Agent
Gorm -- The Smuggler's Ship
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Lough seems most intrigued / frightened by the Museum Ritualist followed by the Haunted House Dare! But is equally eager to accept any mission.
...
“A partially collapsed house in the Precipice Quarter, long rumored to be haunted, has been marked for demolition in the next few days. I think someone like you could gain themselves a good story by staying in the house overnight before it’s demolished. Not only would such an endeavor prove their mettle and provide them with experience camping in potentially unfriendly territory, but they might also learn interesting tidbits about the house’s former owners. After all,” she adds, “not every discovery requires weeks of grueling travel.”
“A scholar at the College of Mysteries has been working on an interesting new ritual that’s has led to considerable division among her colleagues. She’s been under growing pressure to leave the college, so now might be a good time to contact her, determine if she would be a good fit for the Pathfinder Society, and, if so, recruit her.”
“Some time ago, a whistleblower revealed a possible threat to Absalom related to one of the siege castles. In response, however, that individual was silenced and eventually petrified during the Charge of the Gorgon. I suspects foul play and I have leveraged his contacts to get a writ allowing the victim to be restored, I need you to take this writ, restore the fellow and learn what you can about this alleged threat to our city.”
“A sunken ship has recently washed up on a reef not far from Absalom. I have heard that the smugglers using it as a safe house are involved in smuggling texts and possibly living creatures from Nex. The books are valuable enough that I would rather they’d not be left lying around. Also I am interested in any information the you can find about the smugglers’ methods.”
...
greater salve of antiparalysis (w/ Poob)
scroll of ??? (w/ ???)
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bonus to Gather Information throughout this adventure