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A Pathfinder Society Scenario designed for levels 1-5.
Less than a decade ago, the Pathfinder Society established a lodge in Nirmathas, an act that infuriated the nation's expansionist rival Molthune. The latter outlawed the Society soon after, and ever since Pathfinders have relied on smugglers like the Varisian entrepreneur Guaril Karela to slip supplies past the Molthuni blockade for both the lodge and the Society's war-torn neighbors. Something has intercepted those shipments. Can the PCs uncover the culprit and save the Society's reputation in Nirmathas?
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The Silver Spoon Inn and Tavern in Kerse fits the description given in Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin’s letter. Its black marble bar top and gilded chairs are clearly intended to suggest an atmosphere of wealth and luxury, but the tattered seat cushions and faded wall tapestries betray a general slide into disrepair. At this time of day, the tavern is completely empty save for the staff.
A tall, sandy-haired half-orc with rough but pleasant features stands behind the bar, polishing the marble surface with a white cloth. As each of you arrives, he gives you a quick glance before directing you to the meeting room at the back. A simple buffet of breads, sliced meats and cheeses occupies a sideboard alongside a pitcher of clean, clear water. ”If you want something else to drink, just let me know. Ambrus said he’d cover the food, but drinks are on your own accounts. He said he’d be back shortly.”
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You all meet in a tavern …
Keen to avoid conversation with the locals – or unwilling to be caught alive or dead in a provincial dive – Abdara holds her black cloak tightly about her adventuring garb, concealing her features within the folds of her hood.
Almost makes me feel nostalgic for the Pig’s Paunch. Almost …
Grateful for the directions to the private room, House Kastner’s first daughter removes her hood, shakes out her loose chestnut hair and smiles at the bartender.
“If you want something else to drink, just let me know. Ambrus said he’d cover the food, but drinks are on your own accounts.”
“In that case, my good fellow I’ll try some soup.”
She hunts for the least unworthy chair, sits and crosses her legs. “Chilled, unwooded chardonnay broth, if you please. Elven or Galtan if you have it.”
“Served in a tall crystal bowl. Oh, and don’t worry about the spoon.”
Abdara smiles and nods to the man once more, before settling in in to wait patiently for the others.
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"Mmmmm, tiring, the open road is. But good for the mind, to see more of the world."
A strange looking little man hobbles into the tavern, aided by a walking stick. He resembles a gnome, but his skin is green. He has little hair on his head, save for large white tufts above his ears and a long white plait that falls onto his shoulder.
The green gnome follows the barkeep's directions to the room in the back, and sets down his (very well-organised) pack.
"Mmmmm, these victuals appear ample." He nods his thanks, and helps himself to a large quantity of cheeses and meats. It is only when he has eaten his fill that he acknowledges Abdara. "Mmmmm, it is good that a strong team is kept together. Are the others here, too?"
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Only a few minutes after the first two figures enter the Silver Spoon a third follows, small in much the same way as the gnome but otherwise very different. Large, red, globe-like eyes slowly scan the room from under a wide-brimmed hat and then slowly blink, as though satisfied by something.
The creature ambles into the room, carrying little aside from the clothes on their back and what looks to be some sort of long contraption of metal and wood slung over their shoulder, and makes a beeline for Abdara and Gnoda.
"Other agents?" the frog-creature croaks, looking inquisitive. "Some call me Beryl of the Gun. It's a funny joke, yes? But just Beryl is fine. You are?"
While the approach and delivery is a bit blunt, it does seem meant to be friendly.
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“How’d you get so big eating food of this kind?”
Abdara springs to her feet aiming to give Gnoda a hug around the shoulders, but mainly catches his head. “Of the others I have seen naught so far.”
"You are?"
“The Honorable Abdara, First Daughter of House Kastner. Devotee of Shelyn, aspiring actress and politician.”
The Honorable bows her head from the neck. “Beryl of the Gun, is it?”
“Oh, yes. A play on words targeting the cylinder a firearm’s projectile travels down, after the gas behind it expands rapidly upon ignition. Very droll.”
Abdara looks absently at the grippli. “Though I think the process rather inefficient. The Pathfinder Chronicles describe Numerian weapons harnessing plasma or magnetic fields which sound fascinating.”
“But I digress. I bid you welcome, Beryl.”
Abdara’s adds an acerbic air to her tone. “And trust you will enjoy our fellowship as we experience all this … municipality has to offer.”
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Beryl smiles a rather satisfied smile.
"I always find what I seek. Usually places but sometimes people. I'm good at what I do."
To Abdara, she gives a nod of acknowledgement. "Yes. I've heard the stories. A weapon of plasma would be useful, especially in the jungles of home. But I make do with what I can get. And what I can get is good enough for what I do."
The grippli looks around and finally notices the food and water set out, expression brightening. "Ah yes! Meat and bread and water - always worth enjoying," she nods, either missing Abdara's snarky tone or perhaps choosing to ignore it.
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The former mercenary and recently-minted Pathfinder makes his way to the tavern, nodding approvingly at the décor: stylish, but with just enough disrepair and mistreatment to make him not feel out of place. High society was never his preference...
He nods to the half-orc behind the bar as he's greeted, smiling and waving a hand as he proceeds to the meeting room. Upon entering, his smile only widens as he spies two familiar faces.
"Gnoda! Abdara! Excellent to see you two again. I'd been wondering if this would be all new faces or some familiar ones."
He then looks over to the frog-folk, raising a hand in greeting as he makes his way to the table and starts perusing the food.
"Speaking of new faces.. nice to meet you. I'm Felix."
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“Well! Look what the kangaroo’s dragged in.”
Abdara returns Gnoda's head before greeting the fighter with a hug. “How did you enjoy your first Pay Cheque courtesy of the Ten, Felix?”
“Their system of buying back items you have recovered takes a little getting used to. Though it saves argumentative types from coming to blows over unique items.”
The bard makes a face. “It’s the bookkeeping that I find a dreadful bore. That is, until Gloriana put me onto a little man in Westgate she uses.”
“His jokes are abominable and his accent is incomprehensible, but he does know his way around a ledger. Do let me know if you require a letter of introduction.”
"You have worked together before, then. That's good."
“Common labour? With this pair of scallywags? Tut, tut, Beryl. What do you take me for?”
Abdara smiles warmly. “Perhaps it is best you do not answer, what?”
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Laughing, he turns from the table and embraces the bard.
"It wasn't much compared to Father's company, but it's my first independent pay so I'm not going to complain! I'm happy to be earning my coin outside of his influence... here I have no doubt that my pay is due to my own merit and not his name!"
Letting her go, he piles a plate high from the table as he continues to speak.
"I'll have to remember that if I ever need a financier. I can keep track of my own coin well enough when it's as little as I have now, though!"
Laughing once more, he settles in at the table with his food before rolling his eyes at the bard's last witticism. He looks to the frog-folk with an exaggerated wink.
"Best you take this one's words with a grain of salt, Beryl! How else could you cut through such cloying sweetness?"
This last is said with a measure of amiable sarcasm that is surely not lost on any present.
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“You see how he cuts me to the quick, Beryl?”
Abdara places left hand over heart and right palm to her forehead melodramatically.
(“Good one by the way, Felix. I’m writing that last one down.”)
The actress turns toward the doorway hopefully, clasping her hands together as a beggar might. "My reputation lies in ruins!"
"Won’t somebody, anybody defend a maiden’s Honour from this blackguard!" *wink*
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"The Armenian Man is here!" The announcement comes loudly as the tall half-orc strides into the back room, interrupting the theatrics on display. "The Armenian Man has a name, but The Armenian Man is what you can call me," he continues with a scan of the room, taking in all the faces in front of him. His eyes light up when he sees the grippli, but really, his eyes light up on seeing every new face.
"Magdh's blessings--or Magdh's curse!--on this mission. We never know what Magdh has in store, but it is always exciting!" With that, he digs into the light buffet on offer, various charms and other foci dangling from his haphazardly assembled outfit.
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"Oh, here everyone is!" Another short figure (this one with long blue eyebrows and a bushy blue beard) reaches up to shake Abdara's fallen hand. "Hi, my name's Drelluandast, and I'm so- ooo, is that cheese?" The gnome almost drops the woman's hand before remembering his manners. "Sorry, I got distracted. You're a Pathfinder, right? What's your name?"
A disgruntled squeak comes from the hood of the gnome's cloak, and a small furry nose peaks out.
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Venture Captain Ambrus Valsin marches into the meeting room accompanied by a familiar and somewhat infamous face. Ambrus takes his place at the head of the expensive looking table while Guaril Karela grabs a small plate of food and two glasses of water. He surreptitiously rolls his eyes as he pours them, clearly not keen on Valsin’s choice of beverage options.
“Pathfinders, I’m sure you know our associate, Guaril Karela, if not personally then by reputation,” says Ambrus Valsin while gesturing to the Varisian man as he takes a seat near the Captain. “We’ve had reports from a confidential informant in the Aspis Consortium that trouble is brewing in Tamran. Probably not coincidentally, several of Karela’s shipments bound for Tamran have gone missing.”
Guaril slides the second glass of water to Ambrus as he picks up the narrative. “You see, the Molthuni navy maintains a rather tyrannical blockade around the city—a blockade past which my associates and I have helped Ambrus move items numerous times. It’s not so difficult; the Molthuni are not the brightest stars in the sky. Or at least it wasn’t difficult until recently. An unknown party has intercepted my last dozen shipments, and I doubt Molthune is responsible. When I lose shipments—”
”—Our lodge in Tamran loses much needed supplies,” finishes Ambrus. “Not to mention the fact that Guaril provides many important goods to the people of Tamran, such as food and medicine. Your mission is to accompany Guaril to Tamran and investigate the disappearances and thefts. Hopefully Oraiah Tolal, our venture-captain in Tamran, will have more leads.” He pauses to check the time.
“You depart with Karela from the docks here in two hours. If you have any questions, or any supplies to purchase, I advise you to do so now.”
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What you might know about the history of Nirmathas and Molthune:
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"Sorry, What's your name?"
“Despair …”
Abdara’s voice trails off sadly. “Though I have also been known to answer to ‘Abdara.’”
She brightens. “Master Drelluandast, I assume you are aware your clothing has a rodent infestation problem? If not, I know a little man who may be able to help.”
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The noble covers her ignorance with a question to the VC. “You mentioned a spy within the Consortium.”
“If you don’t believe the Molthuni are responsible for stealing your shipments, have you considered it might be the Snakes?”
“If so, could infiltrating their operation in Tamran be an option?”
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"Oh, it's very nice to meet you," Drelluandast answers cheerfully before his face falls into a look of concern. "Um, do you prefer one of those names over the other? Oh, and this is my familiar Rattholomew!" He quickly heads over to the table and breaks off a small piece of pale cheese for the rat, who daintily nibbles at it.
"You don't think there's any danger of Molthun attacking the city again right now, do you?" The gnome's eyes are wide as he passes another piece of cheese to his passenger. "They've conquered the city five times already, you know - so often that Nirmathas just tore down the city walls because it was easier to harass the invaders into leaving that way. I'd hate to get caught in the middle of something like that!"
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"Is Tamran an enclave within Molthune then? There's no way to get past this blockade; they have the city surrounded?"
“Hmm, quick history lesson,” Valsin begins not pedantically but clearly wanting to make sure all the bases are covered. ”Molthune and Nirmathas were both part of the Chelish empire that broke into pieces following the death of Aroden. Molthune’s militant leaders continued to exploit the forests to the north, driving the rural population to secede and form their own nation called Nirmathas. Molthune has maintained an ongoing campaign ever since to recapture the rebel-held lands, though most of the Inner Sea region’s leaders now recognize Nirmathas’s legitimacy - or at least do not denounce their efforts. The blockade is one of Molthune’s ongoing ways of harassing its northern rival.”
Guaril clears his throat, and Valsin yields the floor. "Like I said, it's not impossible to get past their blockade. It's just gotten much harder recently. More so for valuable goods than people. I'll have no trouble getting all of us into Tamran," he says with what he clearly considers an encouraging smile, but is actually kind of scary.
“If you don’t believe the Molthuni are responsible for stealing your shipments, have you considered it might be the Snakes?”
Valsin replies, “I've little doubt that the Snakes are involved somehow, but figuring out to what extent is exactly why I'm sending you. If it’s not the Snakes, then it could be the Church of Razmir. We’ve had unpleasant dealings with them in Tamran in the past, and I wouldn’t put it past the Razmiri to hold a grudge." He looks to his Varisian colleague and continues, "We also can’t rule out any of Guaril’s enemies or rivals, of which I’m certain he has many.” Guaril does not comment, merely offering an innocently apologetic smile and shrug.
"You don't think there's any danger of Molthune attacking the city again right now, do you?"
"No, I don't," Valsin replies quickly and decisively. "I wouldn't send you straight into a potential war zone without fully preparing you for that, and I don't think that a full-scale war breaking out is likely. Nirmathas has been fighting a guerilla war with Molthune for the better part of a century. I fought there as a mercenary when I was a young man. The Nirmathi and the folks of Tamran are good people, though they can be insular and distrustful of outsiders. Their militias are top-notch fighters and scouts, and if Molthune was preparing for something big, the whole city would know about it well before they arrived.”
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“If it’s not the Snakes, then it could be … any of Guaril’s enemies or rivals.”
The VC doth protest too much, methinks. So it’s definitely Snakes. Good to know.
"Um, do you prefer one of those names over the other?"
“Yes.”
Abdara *rolls* her eyes. “I’ll let you deduce which one.”
She then retires to her chair to let the others ask any questions they may have.
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"You say ship leaves in two hours?" The Armenian Man pulls a chair up to the table, and retrieves a jumble of fortune telling devices and other implements. "The Armenian Man will try to see what will be in store for us." He paints a pair of dots over each of his ears with a greasy red wax, and begins casting leaves into a bowl of water, studying how they float and arrange themselves.
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"If Tamran is friendly to us then should we act as Pathfinders?" Beryl finally croaks, having remained silent while listening to the briefing. "Or as random...do-gooders?"
While she waits for an answer she leans in close to the gnome and whispers, "Abdara...has an odd sense of humor, I think. "
And as the Armenian Man begins performing a rather unusual-looking ritual, she cocks her head to one side as she observes.
"A soothsayer? I've seen these sorts of rituals performed in my homeland..." Beryl murmurs, a note of respect in her voice.
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"If Tamran is friendly to us then should we act as Pathfinders?" Beryl finally croaks, having remained silent while listening to the briefing. "Or as random...do-gooders?"
Valsin finishes chewing before addressing the diminutive gunslinger's concerns. "We still have an active lodge there, and I haven't heard of any problems with their presence." He looks to Guaril to see if the Varisian has anything to add.
"Venture-Captain Tolal said one of her people will meet us at the docks. The last time I was there wasn't long ago, and they weren't hiding their membership then." He pauses to take a sip of water and grimaces as he remembers that it's not the liquor he was hoping for. "That being said, there's no reason to flash your wayfinders around, either."
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”Oh, so it is Abdara,” Drelluandast whispers back to Beryl. ”One of my cousins insisted on being called ‘Depression’ for two years and twenty-seven days, and she was also a bit... dramatic.”
As the venture-captain mentions wayfinders, Drelluandast shakes his head. ”Nope, haven’t gotten one yet.”
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"The Armenian Man will try to see what will be in store for us."
“Do you tell individual fortunes, Armenian Man? I’d love to make an appointment.”
Wearing a neutral expression, Abdara appears to be patiently enduring another dull briefing. In reality she is taking in every word, hoping one of her companions’ astute questions will reveal an issue that will give the team an edge.
Well done, Beryl.
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When attending a party or work function, it is uncanny how our attention is immediately drawn to mention of our own name three clusters of people away.
In the same manner, Abdara is cognizant of Beryl and Drelluandast’s discussion, though she does not react.
Instead, if her chardy has arrived, she casually raises her tall bowl to VC Valsin. “Despite the generosity of the Pathfinder Society, I have not yet been issued a wayfinder for passing my Confirmation, Venture-Captain.”
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Guaril Karela provides a ship to take everyone to Tamran, using the cover of night and his own cunning to slip through the Molthuni blockade. The Encartan Eclipse reaches Tamran safely in the early hours of the morning as the sun burns the waterfront fog away. A local Pathfinder agent surreptitiously greets you, introduces himself as Reginar Lacklan, and offers to take you to the Ashfall Lodge, the Society’s base of operations in Tamran.
Karela explains that he has his own inquiries to pursue and arranges to reunite with you at the Ashfall Lodge in three days to see what you’ve learned.
Like much of the city, Ashfall Lodge rises above the marshy ground; however, whereas most other buildings stand atop piers and pilings, the Pathfinder lodge straddles three broad cypress trees. Rope bridges and wooden slat ladders wind across its outer branches, leading to a handful of tiny cabins for storage and visiting agents. Two bell pulls hang from the southern tree—one weighted by a medallion depicting the Glyph of the Open Road and the other weighted by a bronze symbol of two faces in profile.
Reginar takes hold of the Open Road rope and gives it a sharp pull, sounding a high-pitched bell in the lodge above. From above, a gray-haired halfling woman examines the visitors, smiles, and drops a rope ladder. She nimbly clambers down and gestures grandly to the elevated structure. “Welcome, Pathfinders. I am Oraiah Tolal, and I hope that Ashfall Lodge will be your home away from home and your welcome to a new land. If you’ll accompany me, I can answer any questions you might have.”
Your diminutive host seems pleasantly surprised at the number of small folk in this team as she leads you to a small meeting room inside the tree-top lodge. Once everyone is settled, she explains that her own attempts to investigate the thefts have been stymied by a pernicious rumor spreading through Tamran slandering the Pathfinder Society in general—and more specifically herself and Reginar—as Molthuni sympathizers.
”I suspect that the rumor campaign may be linked to the disappearance of Mr. Karela’s shipments, but I don’t have any proof. Maybe you all might be able to learn more, given that you’re newcomers to the city. After all, whoever is spreading the rumors hasn’t had the chance to fully turn the city against you.” As she finishes, Reginar serves tea and some light pastries from a nearby bakery for the morning meal.
”Maybe start the day by doing the usual Pathfinder information gathering, then I might have some ideas on parts of town you can check out. You’re free to stay here at the lodge until your investigation is complete, of course.” She asks Reginar to set up a room for you. As you prepare to hit the streets, she lets you know that as a cleric of Alseta she can, of course, provide some limited healing should you need it. "But, please try to stay out of fights. We're trying to repair our reputation a little, after all."
Several of the hospitals and temples in town are running low on medicines and potion-brewing components ever since several key blockade-runners stopped making deliveries to Tamran. It’s said the Pathfinder Society had worked with these smugglers before, and the Society has paid them to divert goods to Molthune instead.
A Varisian traveler in town was flashing around a wayfinder and claiming to be Karela’s associate. He tried to solicit bribes from local shopkeepers to keep the flow of smuggled goods coming. When they refused, he made veiled threats. Shortly thereafter, the shipments slowed considerably.
Some Razmiri literature has been showing up around town, left behind in common areas—all despite the ban on worshipping Razmir in Tamran. The city watch has kept a pretty tight lid on it so far.
Oraiah suggests checking out the following locales within the city:
“Karela’s shipments across the lake haven’t been getting through, which means the bandits must have a ship. If they have a ship, they’ve probably visited Tamran’s docks.”
”Many consider it the only inn in town worth staying at—a harsh verdict but a great place to dig up rumors.”
“That’s the town’s most popular feast hall. These days it’s seen a lot of traffic from members of the city’s various militias. You probably won’t get a very friendly reception, what with the rumors around town, but talking to the militia patrols is your best bet at learning what’s going on outside the city.”
“We haven’t been getting our supplies, but several of the more… illicit… items Karela used to bring into the city are still appearing in the market. That suggests someone in town is fencing goods for the thieves.”
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Drelluandast bows to the venture-captain. ”Alseta’s blessing upon you and the door you open for us,” he replies, trying to remember the prayers of the minor deity. ”We will do our best to be circumspect and get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible!” He listens attentively to the rest of the briefing, then tries to remember what he’s read about the city beforehand...
...but it’s hopelessly outdated.
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"Mmmmmm, Alseta, goddess of portals and transitions. I am Gnoda, disciple of the Master of Masters." Gnoda bows towards Oraiah.
"Mmmmm, little sense it makes, but locals seem to think that medicine shortages here are the result of us sending supplies to Molthune. Do they not accept that we are being stolen from?"
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"Even I've heard of Alseta the Welcomer. Thank you for welcoming us into your house," Beryl croaks, giving the VC a nod and making sure to take off her hat before heading inside the lodge.
After the briefing, the grippli heads out into town to try and see what local gossip she can pick up...
...but instead ends up fending off locals that are either eager to bombard her with questions about herself and her gun or to just simply gawk.
"Hrmph! I don't like standing out. Maybe next time I'll wear a hood to cover my face," she grouses when everyone reconvenes to share what they've learned. "To this place, Molthune is like a panther lurking in the dark...with them being the prey. And they're afraid. People that are afraid believe silly things," Beryl adds to Gnoda with a shrug.
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“May Alseta safeguard your progress, coming and going, Vicar.”
Abdara nods from the neck to VC Tolal, in the informal fashion Taldan nobles show allegiance to their Sovereign.
She also presents the VC with a Harrow card, whose obverse shows ’The Locksmith.’
“A card that Harrowers say grants the tools needed to unlock some new place, puzzle, or cache. Perhaps it will be lucky for us?”
Abdara has painted out the reverse with white oils, and sketched twin portraits of Shelyn and Zon Kuthon in its place.
“Abdara of House Kastner, aspiring devotee of the Eternal Rose at your service, Ma’am.”
“Bah! The locals were hardly any more forthcoming to a Daughter of the Enduring Taldan Empire!”
"To this place, Molthune is like a panther lurking in the dark...with them being the prey. And they're afraid."
“I was not expecting such an attitude from people who have persisted with a relatively successful rebellion.”
The noble’s eyebrows rise slightly. “There’s something lurking in the darkness, Beryl. Though I suspect it’s more serpentine than feline.”
“Anyway, the black cat’s luck should be on our side, as it’s the Nirmathi that fight as well as a panther in the trees.”
"Do they not accept that we are being stolen from?"
“Apparently not.”
Abdara’s expression turns from annoyance to curiosity. “It seems further investigation is warranted. I suggest we follow up on Gnoda’s lead about the possibility of water-borne bandits down at the Docks.”
"The cosmic life energy can influence the minds of the common folk, make them think that you are... something else. A gnome, for example."
The bard raises a sceptical eyebrow. “Like, this is not the gnome you are looking for?”
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"Magdh teaches about all deities, great and small. Respect to your Alseta."
The Armenian Man spends more time investigating Abdara's Harrow deck than he does gathering information. "You paint backs yourself? The Armenian Man uses the Harrow sometimes, too, but not custom like that! It's very beautiful; do you feel a stronger connection to the cards?"
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“Thank-you, Armenian Man. In truth, I have no particular skill or reverence for the divining properties of the Harrow.”
Abdara pauses to determine if her honesty is giving any offense. “But I find the cards' size and popularity make them the prefect medium for working with for my deific obedience to Shelyn, which necessitates providing a small, personalized artwork for someone I meet that day.”
“Once I know more about your skills and qualities, I may gift you with one of my offerings to the Eternal Rose.”
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He notices the symbol of the Open Road on the pull tassel first, hardly sparing a glance at some holy symbol that means little to him... though he does note the name of the deity it belongs to when most of the others point it out.
Father always said even the smallest details matter...
With this in mind he listens carefully to the Venture Captain's words, then takes heed of her recommendations before heading out to where he does his best information-gathering: the tavern.
Several rounds of drinks later, he heads back out into the daylight with a grimace and a shake of his head. Usually his outings are far more fruitful... there's a strange undercurrent running through even places of revelry around here.
"No luck at the tavern, I'm afraid. Usually a few rounds will loosen even the tightest of tongues, but it seems like the people around here are mistrustful as a matter of course. I got slaps on the back and words of thanks, but little more."
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Although Molthune blocks much of the trade to and from Tamran, the city still does brisk business with other Nirmathi settlements up the river, and there’s plenty of fishing to be done well before reaching Molthune’s interdictors. As a result, the docks still bustle with activity during the day. Wandering about the waterfront bars, shops, and fishmongers with the smell of old seaweed, fish, sweat, and damp nets filling your senses, you try to find someone willing to talk about the shipments that have gone missing.