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Dana walks with slow steps and is not the most gracile or beautiful woman from Tian Xia.
When she meets the group she waves her hand.
"Greetings to you all." says the corpulant woman with a self conscious smile.
Her right eye has been cut in the past which has led to a scar that is clearly visible on her right eye section.
She has a Wayang bleaching exactly around the scar.
Her asymmetrically cut black hair with pink highlights looks strange and out of place. She is wearing a full plate armor that clearly encumbers her heavily and with which she walks slowly.
Her armor has gadgets and colored leather straps which are more fashion items than functional adventure gear. A small buckler is attached to her left arm. She also carries a backpack.
Resting on top of her chest, an amulet showing the holy symbol of Chaldira Zuzaristan is visible.
She does not really have a natural presence and unfortunately might come across as aloof or arrogant.
Facing you all she bows but more out of tradition than courtesy you believe.
“Dana Katsu is my name.“
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A grim looking half-orc with an unusual axe speaks up from a corner seat.
Welcome. Have a seat. Looks like we still have plenty of waiting to do.
A sword and mountain tattoo is visible on his right and the same symbol is emblazoned on his armor with gleaming silver spikes above. A bizarre shield of claw and bone seems to be tapping rhythmically along its edge.
You may call me Urzaia. As our lord in iron guides me through battle I will share his insights with you.
The air is crisp and cool as the boat arrives in Iceferry, a small town just across the Rimeflow river from Kalsgard. Waiting on the ice-crusted wharf is an enthusiastic gnome, who is bundled in a number of exotic furs and brightly-colored scarves, waving energetically with both hands. She bounds over and introduces herself as Lirall, adding that the venture-captain is waiting. She then volunteers to serve as a guide through the icy streets to the local lodge.
Although the journey through Iceferry is short, the warmth of the lodge is initially invigorating. Before anyone can warm themselves by the fireplace for too long, however, the gnome walks to a panel of labeled and colorful pulleys near the entrance, looking them all over closely before pulling one labeled “Library.” The cord, which runs across the lodge’s ceiling before disappearing through a small opening in one wall, goes taut. There is the sound of something flapping in the air, almost immediately overwhelmed by the excited and friendly barking of a large dog. A door opens, letting forth an energetic husky hat rushes out to greet the newcomers, before a deep voice echoes from beyond the opening, offering gentle admonishment to the dog. “Now, now, Mahki, you know better. Let our guests come in.”
The owner of the voice proves to be Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen, a dashing half-orc with a short black beard braided into three points, and a long ponytail. He looks up from reading a book on the history of the Linnorm Kings, and, after carefully marking his page with an old brass key, places it atop a nearby book on gnome physiology. “Thank you for coming. There have been a series of unusual deaths lately in Kalsgard, just across the river.” As he speaks, he makes a series of gestures with his hands, and it soon becomes clear that he is speaking both aloud and in sign. “Before we proceed, what do you know about what gnomes call the Bleaching?”
“The Bleaching is an unusual part of gnome physiology, supposedly tied to their distant connection to the First World. Any gnome that fails to find enough excitement in their life develops a sort of lethal ennui, which slowly drains away their will to live, their ability to experience emotions, and, ultimately, the very color from their bodies. If a gnome is afflicted long enough, the condition can become fatal. Unfortunately, it’s a bit more common here than some other places. Likely due to the isolation caused by our climate, I suppose.”
“As I was saying, there have been several deaths lately in Kalsgard. All who perished are gnomes whose hair and skin have been turned completely white. At first glance, this looks like just a few more cases of the Bleaching, but one of our agents in Kalsgard, Quil Tabberdash, is a gnome who spends her free time helping to combat the effects of the bleaching in the local community, and she’s convinced it’s something else. She’s tried working with the local authorities, but they’re preoccupied with Sveinn Blood-Eagle’s recent announcement, and all the chaos that’s caused, and simply aren’t interested. So, you’re going to help Quil investigate what’s really going on, and, if it turns out to be something sinister after all, put a stop to it. Here’s the address of Quil’s church. Or perhaps gambling hall ould be a more apt description?” He hands over a folded piece of paper with an address written on it. “Quil will meet you there after you arrive in Kalsgard and show you to some of the places where bodies have been found. Oh, and Pathfinders? Things are unstable enough over there right now. Try to avoid stirring things up more than absolutely necessary, and I’ll see to it that you’re properly compensated for your troubles.”
He makes a quick gesture and nods to you all, clearly inviting questions.
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The undine joins the group, responding to the missive from the higher ups in the Society. He had blue skin like most of his kind. There was no armor or shields clearly evident; he only had minimal weaponry at his side. ”Greetings, I am Ashwell. I’ve given up a nice comfy week of work in the library for this boat trip,” he grumbles. He then opens his arms wide and embraces the cold air on the vessel. ”At least they haven’t sent me to the desert this time!”
———
Know Nature untrained
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A slender, brown-skinned human wearing a plain shalwar khameez under a chain shirt boards with the rest of the party. He carries a small pack, and the only weapons visible on his person are a pair of darts thrust through his belt. A pouch on his belt jingles quietly when he walks. In response to the undine's commentary, he smiles thinly and pulls his cloak closer about him. "At least this is on Golarion...my last mission for the Society took me to a comet, of all places." He shrugs, disarranging his cloak (which he hastily resecures with a slight shiver). "Such is the glamorous and exciting life of a Society agent. Ah, I forget my manners. I am Jivan."
"I am not familiar with the Bleaching. Gnomes are not common in Vudra, or at least I never met any there." Jivan waits for the more cerebrally-inclined team members to ask questions, for he can think of none pertinent. As he waits he absentmindedly walks a silver piece across the back of his hand.
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It's a twist of gnomish nature. If they don't find enough excitement in life they can lose the ability to experience emotions, the advanced stages are marked by a loss of color from their physical bodies. It's fatal if it goes on long enough.
Two questions, first what makes her think this isn't bleaching? It's a more common fate up here. Second, what announcement?
[Dice=Knowledge (Nature)]1d20 +6
It's a twist of gnomish nature. If they don't find enough excitement in life they can lose the ability to experience emotions, the advanced stages are marked by a loss of color from their physical bodies. It's fatal if it goes on long enough.
Two questions, first what makes her think this isn't bleaching? It's a more common fate up here. Second, what announcement?
Watching your lips, the Venture-Captain shrugs, "I trust Quil's judgement on this. I don't know enough about the bleaching. She's not just a gnome but a gnome who is an expert on the topic. You can get more detail from her when you're there."
Then a smile splits his face, "Apologies, the news has taken hold of every conversation in Iceferry. Sveinn Blood-Eagle is regarded by many as the greatest of the Linnorm Kings, old now but still very formidable. He’s announced that he’s tired of waiting for a worthy heir and is planning to set sail on a final adventure to Valenhall, a legendary Ulfen colony on the shores of Arcadia. No sooner did he announce his intent to leave, his children started fighting over who should take over his domain, though none of them have slain a linnorm and secured their claim. Things have become pretty tense lately, with violence occasionally breaking out in the streets. Whatever you do while you’re in Kalsgard, try not to get involved in that mess.”
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Lukaas was sipping some wine while listening.
He's a very good listener, and take his wine tasting seriously.
Hello there, my name is Lukaas Penn. I've heard about the bleaching, but never witnessed it. It happens to gnomes, and gnomes only as far as I know.
He's quite tall, but burly, and in his mid twenties. His clothes are large, of good quality but nothing ostentatious.. Brown hair, black eyes, bushy beard, he wears a tatooed tear under his left eye. He doesnt carry much weapons, a rapier and a light crossbow, and cherishes a splendid luth.
Maybe I should buy warmer clothes...The Land of the Linlorm Kings isn't known for his warm climate
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Aboard ship, an old man sleeps through the voyage. He is wrapped in furs, and holds a scabbarded katana close.
The old man staggers to his feet when the ship docks at Iceferry.
"Huh? Wuzzat? Sleeping Sword! That's my style!"
He follows the gnome, Lirall, into the lodge and leans against a wall where he promptly falls asleep again.
Jivan raises an eyebrow. "A lack of excitement causes them to go pale? How odd. Of course, gnomes may think that human aging is strange, that our bodies weaken as we grow old."
"Huh? Weak? Old?" The old man opens one eye halfway and peers at the vudrani. "The Way of the Sleeping Sword says: true strength is in the soul of the warrior, not in his arm."
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"That's what the monks say, and it seems to work for them. Most of the rest of us are not so blessed. Certainly as I grow older, the cold affects me more. Alas, I am for now denied the warmth of the Cradle and the sight of the Dhavala River." He smiles. "Still, there is something to be said for traveling to a frozen land...it has to be said, for it cannot be printed."
Torssen smiles, "The cold air is bracing, makes you feel alive."
Then he turns to the good father's more serious question, "No. That's it, I'm afraid. The one good claim to the Linnorm Throne is dragging a dead linnorm into Kalsgard: none of his children have even tried."
Torssen shrugs, "Same as everywhere: scheming, back-biting, plotting, alliances... it doesn't even have to be Sveinn's children, they're just in pole-position and-"
He stops, pinches the bridge of his nose, "No. Let me be clear on this. Very, very clear. You are to avoid - avoid - any involvement in Sveinn's succession. The Society can only lose if we play those games. You must protect our independence: is that clear?"
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"A follower of the god of war who fled a war? Huh.
Blood-Eagle's children should pay more attention. The Way of the Sleeping Sword says: a great leader leads by example, not by force. Still, it shall not be our concern."
The old swordsman sighs. "Before we leave, you must all know this. I am not blessed, but cursed. A dhampir of the the nosferatu line. Positive energy that would heal the wounds of mortal men is deadly to me; but negative energy will mend this broken body. I carry a wand, scrolls and a potion that will serve this purpose." Sleeping Sword brings forth a potion vial labeled clearly in both Taldane and Tien: "Sleeping Sword ONLY! DO NOT DRINK!"
The ferry trip to Karlsgard is uneventful and the ferryman gives clear directions to the Hall of Seven Wagers. Karlsgard is bustling and has many more shops and businesses than the places you have passed on the river.
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I'm not surprised you're unfamiliar with Molthune. Pathfinders were declared enemies of the state after setting up a lodge in Nirmathas. It is a nation with a boundless ambition for expansion. They need everyone for their endless war so they take in anyone, hobgoblins and halflings stand shoulder to shoulder in their armies. I found no honor in dying for their ambition. My battles are smaller now, but no less important. Stopping madmen from sacrificing innocents suits me better and my lord has never denied me his favor.
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"A good-hearted Gorumite is perhaps no more unusual than a dhampir priest of the sun goddess" says Sleeping Sword with a bow towards Urzaia. The monk reveals his own holy symbol - a katana against a sunrise; or perhaps it is a sunset.
"I walk the path laid out for me by the Empress of Heaven. May her light shine upon us all."
The address on the note belongs to a squat, stoutly built wooden building with a weathered exterior that is meticulously decorated with images of dice, cards, and gemstones. The words “The Hall of Seven Wagers,” and an image of a dice with seven pips are painted in bright blue against a red background over a door with well-oiled brass hinges set under a snow-covered cloth awning.
The gaming-hall is quiet, just a few drinkers and single, intense card game in a corner.
Jivan immediately spies a gnome who matches Quil's description. She is up a ladder, hanging brightly-coloured streamers and decorations for some kind of festivity. As you get near, her eyes catch sight of you, “Oh! Perfect! You’re here!” cries the gnome woman with goldflecked, black hair. She stands atop a step-ladder, affixing bright yellow streamers to the ceiling. She quickly sets the decorations down and saunters up with a smile, extending a hand in greeting. “I’m Quil Tabberdash. Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
She moves amongst the group, shaking everyone's hand (or moving swiftly on if anyone refuses), "Well met, well met indeed."
She begins gathering her outdoor clothes (a long gray overcoat with sapphire stitching and sapphire buttons shaped like dice, as well as a matching pair of sturdy gray mittens), talking as she puts them on. “Normally I’d invite you to stay for a game or two, but we should probably jump right into things before there are any more deaths. As I’m sure you’ve been told, gnomes have been turning up dead across Kalsgard, and everyone thinks it’s due to the Bleaching. It’s not.” She gives a resolute nod to emphasize that point. “For one thing, the Bleaching is a long, slow process, and these gnomes were all vibrant and full of life just days before. For another, most of the victims have had looks of absolute horror on their faces, and that doesn’t fit with Bleaching, either.” As she finishes pulling on her mittens, she gestures towards the door. “Come on, I’ll show you where some of the more recent bodies were found. You can ask any questions on the way.”
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"Hello, Quil. I'm Jivan. I am curious about the exotic and unusual customs of Avistan--what are the decorations for?"
The Vudrani looks oddly at Dana. "Surely all of the bodies were not found in one place? And surely they are not still where they were found? I do not know about you, but I traveled many days to come here--I would hope that Quil would not have left the dead there for this long!"
"Hello, Quil. I'm Jivan. I am curious about the exotic and unusual customs of Avistan--what are the decorations for?"
The Vudrani looks oddly at Dana. "Surely all of the bodies were not found in one place? And surely they are not still where they were found? I do not know about you, but I traveled many days to come here--I would hope that Quil would not have left the dead there for this long!"
"Jivan, nice to meet you. The decorations are for a baccarat tournament which we are having tomorrow. Just a bit of fun." She gives a grim sigh, "We have had too many funerals of late. Most of the dead have been buried, but two died very recently."
Ash would have enjoyed a game of chance or a drink or two, but the sooner he helped solve this mystery, the sooner he could safely get back to the Lodge. ”Is there anything else unusual you have found that we need to know?”
"No, besides everyone going mad about who inherits the throne."
The elderly monk pays little heed to the gamblers, leaning on his scabbard and snoozing until Taberdash begins her explanation and puts on her coats.
He pulls his own furs tightly around himself and asks "Uh, is this perhaps some disease or curse? Or do you suspect murder?"
She shakes her head, "I don't know. I cant see any pattern. No link between these victims. It makes no sense to me."
It sounds like multiple bodies were found near the same place. Do the people who were killed have anything else in common; work together, drink together, family...?
"Oh. no, we've lost people all over. I'll show you the most recent sites. As for things in common: gnomes are a minority here, we're one big community."
Lukaas delivers a gentle kiss on the gnome lady's hand
Its a pleasure to meet you, even in such gloom circumstances. I bet you own this lovely and lively gambling palace, milady Quil? I'm sure we will be able to find some time to ...play together after that mystery is unraveled, if you so wish
[dice=diplomacy, Charming]1d20+12+1
Quil smiles and enjoys the fuss, "Now, aren't you a delight!" She beams at Lukaas for a moment before continuing to hustle everyone through the settlement.
"Yes, no other races have been afflicted so. That's why so many humans think it's the Bleaching. That's why the watch aren't interested, that and they're all busy with the tug-o-war for Sveinn's throne."
"No, besides everyone going mad about who inherits the throne."Jivan smiles. "Venture-Captain Torrsen has told us quite firmly not to get involved with that."
"Well, Torrsen's many things but he's not a gambler. More's the pity." Quil replies, then stops, "There."
Quil indicates a small terraced house on a narrow lane, you are in the Amber Quarter. The house seems plain but well-maintained from the outside. "This is the home of Yuenosh Tevrilna. An old inventor who was still zestful and full of life. He kept himself lively by always exploring new contraptions and devices."
You can each make a perception check to find evidence and and diplomacy (gather information) check to canvas the neighbourhood.
If you choose to do only one of those things then you gain a +4 bonus to the check for focusing your efforts.
Spells or abilities that can be used to help with either of these checks can be used (and used-up) but will be abstracted to give a bonus on your checks equal to the spell level.