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"No! Lies!" the man in the Blue tunic yells as he draws a short sword. "You all know these Pathfinders are Molthuni agents. She's using some sleight of hand trick. Don't let them twist your perceptions. They're the spies," he continues as he stabs Felix, his attack catching the big man off guard.
Bold May Act
Blonde
Drelluandast
Abdara
Blue Tunic Man
Felix
The Armenian Man
Beryl
Gnoda
Woman
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"The cosmic life force flows through you and surrounds you, Felix" says Gnoda as he pats Felix gently on the back.
Gnoda steps out from behind Felix and uncoils his whip, giving it a <crack>. He fixes his gaze upon the aggressor in blue.
"Anger. Aggression. Fear. These are the paths into darkness, mmmmm."
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With a loud sigh Beryl thunks her drink down onto the bar and hops over it to stand in front of Gnoda. She casually draws her musket and loads it with surprising alacrity given the size and complexity of the weapon, then levels it at the Blue Tunic Man.
"You should listen to my friend," the grippli croaks, her expression calm but her tone deadly serious. "Stand down."
______________
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Grunting with surprise and pain, having been stabbed rather deeply without even a chance to draw his weapon, the fighter stumbles away from the Blue Tunic Man with one hand over his body's newest exit. His other hand goes to his belt, seeking a potion of healing while he gives voice to his displeasure between grimaces of pain.
"Not... very sporting of you, old man..."
He then quaffs the curing draught, his grimace fading a little as the magic takes effect to begin closing his wound.
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Gnoda taps into the cosmic life force to provide some prophylactic healing just before Felix downs his own healing potion with a big sigh of relief. Beryl preps her … barrel in readiness to fire while issuing a stern warning to her likely target, and the Armenian Man looms over the shadow-trapped woman like Death Incarnate.
Said woman looks at the scythe-wielding half-orc standing over her and decides that perhaps casting a spell would indeed be very dangerous for her. Instead, she smiles at the Armenian Man and thanks him politely for the warning. She picks up a wooden flute from where it sat on the table in front of her and begins playing a Nirmathi battle hymn.
Meanwhile, the Blonde continues flailing about trying to gather up the coins beneath her prone form. She blinks madly to clear her eyes,
and the tears finally do their job, flushing out the last of the glitter!
Bold May Act
Blonde
Drelluandast
Abdara
Blue Tunic Man
Felix
The Armenian Man
Beryl
Gnoda
Woman
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“Citizens of Tamran, these people are Molthuni spies. The coins they carry are proof of this!”
Abdara can’t believe the trio intends to fight six experienced Pathfinders. “You have heard us ask them to stand down, while we’ve delivered non-lethal damage to them. In response, they have wounded one of our company, forcing us to defend ourselves.”
The bard points at Blue Tunic. “You foolish man. I suggest purposefully accepting my spell’s effects, because it may be the only thing that saves your life.”
She again ✨casts hideous laughter on Blue Tunic.
Abdara then draws her club and takes a 5’ step closer to the prone Blonde.
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Drawing his spear now that he's significantly less stabbed, he moves forward once more to stand between their two prone opponents. He grips his spear in his battle stance, in case either of them decides to make a foolish decision.
"It may be hilarious to you, but I'm sure these good people won't find it quite as amusing once they see your coin purse."
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Having befriended the stars of the show earlier, Lily, Lilah, and the Gar's bouncer quickly move in to stop the fight. They toss the laughing man into the alleyway and laugh along with him at the splash he makes in the puddle of fish guts and garbage.
The flutist stops playing, sets her instrument down, and smiles politely at the Armenian Man. She gestures at how her own shadow is restraining her. "Gonna keep me tied up all night, big guy? At least buy me a drink first," she says and pats the seat next to her in invitation to the Armenian Man. She seems coyly sincere, and with the right approach is likely willing to talk about her role in the con. Among other things.
The Blonde moves from her hands and knees to a sitting position on the floor and finishes picking up the Molthuni coins. She arranges them in several neat little piles on the floor boards, the original coin purse being torn and ruined. Her blue eyes glare at the other woman making nice with the Pathfinder half-orc before she heaves a heavy sigh and looks up at Felix. "Fine, you caught us. But Pathfinders are Molthuni spies, so we're not tellin' you nothin'," she declares defiantly.
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"Indeed," The Armenian Man says as he sits down; "that spell doesn't last too long anyway."
"You had a good plan; but we had sharper eyes." He waves the bartender over to refresh both hers and The Armenian Man's drink. "So tell The Armenian Man about it; what were you trying to get done. Just run us out of town? And why do you care? Doing it for someone else anyway?"
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Pleased that around two-thirds of their opponents seem to be coming to their senses, Abdara sheathes her club, and bends down to add the Molthuni coins she collected to the Blonde’s pile.
Wise enough to see the two women have taken a shine to Felix and the Armenian Man, the bard stays relatively quiet, adding the occasional sympathetic nod or soothing noise to the joint interviews.
“Uh huh … Oh, that’s too bad!”
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The Armenian Man's new friend gets cozy and after a drink or three tells him what she knows.
"Slim - the guy your friends tossed out back - got us this gig from some big, badass woman. Bigger than you even," she coos. "Well, as much as I can tell so far," she says with a twinkle in her eyes.
She downs her drink, waves her glass at the Pathfinder until he buys her another, and continues.
"We were hired by the big lady," she pauses and stares into space for a moment. "Had weird hair. Black and white. And she smelled like a ferret." Her eyes refocus and she continues. "The gig was for us to either cause a riot or kill you all."
She giggles. "Well, at least we got paid first," she finishes with another round of giggling.
"See, we're Razmiris. Me, Slim, and Mari there," she says gesturing to the Blonde. "But you gotta keep that quiet, okay?" she whispers half-drunkenly as she realizes what she's said.
"Our faith isn't legal here in Nirmathas, but some of our people have been working their way into one a' the militias...."
"I'm not supposed to tell you that. Eh, whatever. Look, you wanna get a room, or you got somewhere you gotta be?" she asks with a wondering look at Abdara and the others.
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A Calistrian Clinic if he spends much more time with you!
Abdara raises her upper lip in disgust and looks away.
She finally refocusses on Blondie. “This ✌ badass ✌ woman that smells like a rodent your amorous friend mentioned. Did she introduce herself by name?”
“If something went wrong, how were you to get in touch with her? And how were you getting back home once your mission here concluded?”
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"Oooooh," The Armenian Man starts withdrawing as the woman gets more and more drunk. "Ahhh, yeah; The Armenian Man has somewhere The Armenian Man has to be. So sorry about that. But thanks for your help! You've been a real treat!"
He gets and moves ten feet over to Abdara, where he hovers, trying to believably belong to that conversation instead (without really paying attention to it), conspicuously checking over his shoulder frequently--with a too-big-for-his-face smile--to see if the woman is still there.
"Ahhh..."
"Oh, yes..."
"Hahahahaha!"
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The flirty flutist watches The Armenian Man leave with a wave of her hand and a jealous gaze at Abdara. She wanders over to one of the other regular patrons and begins plying him for drinks, paying no more attention to the Pathfinders now that their job is done.
Mari, a.k.a. the Blonde, glares daggers at Abdara as she stands up. "Well, at least one of you spies knows how this stuff works," she hisses following Drelluandast's observations.
She petulantly kicks her neat little piles of Molthuni coins, scattering them across the floor of The Gar's Last Meal. "Stupid drunken cow already told you everything anyway," she growls as she heads out the back door to the alley in search of Slim.
Having learned everything they can here, the Pathfinders return to the Ashfall Lodge for a good night's sleep. You awake to the smells of Reginar preparing a hearty breakfast of eggs, spicy fish sausages, and a local nut-bread. VC Tolal joins your repast as Reginar serves the meal.
"I got a message that Guaril will be meeting us here later this morning," the halfling priestess says as she sips her tea taken with just a splash of milk. "It seems he's found some important information he'd like to share, and I'm sure he'll be interested in what you've learned, too."
Guaril Karela arrives later that morning and gathers you all in the back meeting room of the lodge. As he chews on a slice of Reginar’s nut-bread, he lays out a map of the local area .
“I hope you uncovered some information, my friends,” says Guaril as he splashes the contents of a hip flask into his tea. “My investigation was only partially successful. I would have learned more, but some men…they cannot tolerate pain, eh?” he gives you a smile more scary than friendly as he continues.
”The Razmiri are involved, too, but except for being muscle I don’t quite get why. One of their “priests” confessed that his leadership had, hehehe, hold on, I love how he phrased it.” He adjusts his posture and assumes a haughty tone as he relates the Razmiri’s statement: “Relegated them to working for a rude woman who smells of opossums and does not show Razmir the proper deference.”
Returning to his normal Varisian accent and voice, he continues, ”Hehehe, classic. Anyway, all of his meetings with her took place outside of Tamran in isolated glades at different locations, so not much help there. More to the point, though, my sources tell me that the filthy weasels stealing my cargo are hiding in an abandoned fort. Which fort, they could not say. Sadly for us, the Nirmathi abandoned many forts after the last Molthuni invasion. These four are our best bets,” he concludes pointing to the map.
Jonathram the apothacary at the Docks said that a “Pathfinder” had been camping out in the marshes.
Imad the wounded militia officer stated that the bandits fled west towards the river from an encounter near the Fangwood, and that they likely have a boat.
Giligam the Marketplace drug dealer confessed that he’s buying from the new smugglers that come from somewhere along the river.
The lovely Lilly and Lilah noted that two elf “Pathfinders” had been asking about Shining Crusade soldier uniforms.
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"Mmmmm, two of our sources referred to the use of the river and a boat. Imad said that bandits fled west from near the Fangwood. This suggests Fort Ursoss" Gnoda indicates its position on the map.
"Does this fort have any connection to the Shining Crusade?" Gnoda looks from Karela to VC Tolal. "Given the interest shown by in the Crusade by two of our potential enemies, that would clinch it."
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"Does this fort have any connection to the Shining Crusade?" Gnoda looks from Karela to VC Tolal.
"I'm not really sure," VC Tolal says. Guaril just shrugs as history isn't exactly his forte unless it relates to smuggling antiquities.
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"Ursoss and maybe Drejas are the two most likely places," Beryl agrees. "Everything we know points to the river and marshlands instead of the coastline."
"The goons in the bar yesterday admitted to being Razmiri and being hired by a 'big, badass woman' with black and white hair that smelled like ferrets, so that matches out."
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So glad nobody asked those slappers how they knew what ferret smells like.
“Felix, you are fully healed after your encounter with those clown shoes yesterday, correct?”
“Assuming they know which way ‘west’ is, I would agree Fort Ursoss is the most likely candidate.”
Ursoss … What kind of name is that?
“Does anyone remember their Ancient Azlanti or Iblydosian roots from school? ‘Ursoss’ sounds a little like ‘Ursine’ which means bear, right?”
Abdara appears to be inviting comments on her out-loud musings. “Perhaps there are drop-bears in the area?”
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He nods at Abdara, rubbing his side where a new scar resides... though he's happy for that rather than the gaping wound that was its progenitor.
"Lousy sneak... can't even fight a man fair and head-on. I don't subscribe to the heavy armor doctrine; I prefer to avoid blows if I can... but I have to see the damned things coming in order to do that."
As for history... he's not much of a scholar, so this talk of forts in the swamps doesn't light any candles of knowledge in his mind.
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“Though for me the exercise is hypothetical, my brothers Remilliard and Wycombe both subscribe to your theory, Felix.”
“Both believe being able to defend against offensive spellcasting is more important for a front-line warrior than heavy armor.”
The bard inclines her head slightly. “Though both being paladins, they have something of a divine advantage in that regard.”
“Anyway, that fool Slim is fortunate to have succumbed to the hideous laughter effect when he did. It would have been a race to see whether Beryl blew his head off before you ran him through, Felix.”
She shakes her head. “What a waste of ammunition that would have been.”
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The Armenian Man--clearly out of his depth--lets his eyes ping-pong back and forth between Abdara and whomever she holds court with at each individual moment. Seeing a brief moment in the conversation to comment, he interjects "Wow! You have so many ideas and opinions and knowledge of things!"
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"Mmmmm, opinions are not equal to knowledge, Armenian Man"
*Scoff* “Well of course not, Master Gnoda! But how many things in life that we have to make timely decisions about are truly KNOWN? Not many, right?”
Abdara sighs theatrically and closes her eyes. “In the absence of certainty, a reasonable woman relies on logic, established facts, experience, the opinions of trusted advisors …”
She bows graciously to Gnoda. “… and a little common sense to make a decision or to form her own opinion.”
"Wow! You have so many ideas and opinions and knowledge of things!"
“And I must say, Armenian Man, I find your own opinion to be brilliant.”
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“Anyway, that fool Slim is fortunate to have succumbed to the hideous laughter effect when he did. It would have been a race to see whether Beryl blew his head off before you ran him through, Felix.”
"Why not both?" Beryl croaks, completely deadpan. "Better overkill than underkill..."
“What a waste of ammunition that would have been.”
"...but I see you also know how expensive these bits of metal and powder can be. Each shot needs to count."
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“Better overkill than underkill...”
"My dear Beryl. I do believe we are going to get on. Gozreh may have created amphibians, but the Alkenstar Gunworks made all humanoids equal."
Abdara responds soberly to the grippli’s lament about the ongoing costs of her profession. “I have offered to contribute to ammunition costs for our ‘heavy weapons’ team-members in the past, but have always been graciously rebuffed.”
“Naturally I extend the same offer to you, Beryl. Losing a team member because of concerns about equipment costs is something no individual Pathfinder should be burdened with.”
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Having rested and recuperated and with full bellies, you head to Fort Ursoss. VC Talol arranges for a trusted friend of the Lodge to provide a boat and skipper to take you up the river. He delivers you to a small landing very close to the ancient site that once provided protection to the city and the river trade, but now lies in complete ruin.
Scorch marks mar the stones of this dilapidated keep. Vegetation hangs loosely from holes in the partially collapsed ceiling letting the afternoon sun shine through, and the floor is sunken and cracked in several places. To the north, a stone trap door peeks out from behind a pile of rubble.
As you carefully look past the crumbling stone walls, you see two ghostly figures, translucent and floating slightly above the ground. Both are garbed as soldiers from some ancient historical period. The female on the left commands a platoon of eerily silent soldiers to advance from behind her, while the male on the right begins to speak.
”Beware, interlopers, of ancient curses birthed from the belly of the lich king! We guard these grounds as we have since the Shining Crusade! None shall pass!”
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Gnoda doesn’t know much about local history, but he easily spots a couple glaring inconsistencies and anachronisms in the two soldiers’ appearance. Although most of her gear does indeed look like what was worn during the Shining Crusade (3754-3828 AR), the woman’s helmet is of a style worn by the Cheliaxians during the Wars of Expansion (later called the Everwars) when they fought to control Molthune. The Everwars didn’t even start until nearly 500 years after the Shining Crusade.
The man’s spiked breastplate looks intimidating and menacing and Gnoda readily recognizes it as a Hellknight design. However, the first Hellknight order, the Order of the Rack, was not founded until 4576, over 700 years after the end of the Shining Crusade. Even more unusual is an embroidered patch on the man’s left shoulder. It depicts a jeweled chalice flanked by the letters “SC.” Gnoda recognizes that this is not a Shining Crusade symbol, but is instead a momento of a participant in the “Sargava Chalice” marathon race - an event recently created by the current ruler of Sargava.
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*Pfft* వారు దెయ్యం పలాడిన్స్ కాదు! వారు కేవలం మరణించినవారి వలె మారువేషంలో ఉన్నారు, సరియైనదా?
Abdara steps into a gap behind Beryl to ✨cast detect magic.
“Yeah, you can drop the imprecise disguise. I am Silver Agent Thestil Shadowtongue of the Aspis Consortium based in Magnimar, Varisia.”
“Gold Agent Maiveer Sloane sent us to unpack why you are so far behind schedule, and how we can work as a team to perform a gap analysis, shift any necessary paradigms and get this thing back on track by the end of the day.”
“Now if you would kindly raise the gate and get out of the way, we can get on with returning this operation to profitability.”
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The female ghostly warrior, who is indeed an elf, looks confused by Abdara's words. She shoots a questioning glance at the other elf, and as she does so the ghostly platoon of silent soldiers behind her fades away.
Their personal disguises also fade away revealing normal armor and gear as they seemingly float back to the ground.
"Ummm, we don't know any Gold Agent Sloane," the man begins with a shrug and a look to the woman. She answers his unspoken query with a shake of her head. "But if you were sent here to check on the operations, you need to talk to..."
"Our boss," the woman says quickly, interrupting him. "I'm not sure if he's downstairs right now or not."
"Feel free to check and wait there." He stops to slap at a pesky mosquito. "There's a bunk room you can use while you wait."
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They stare back at the haughty diva. "It's unlocked," she says condescendingly as if talking to a child, "you right snarky cow."
"We're supposed to be keeping watch for those frelling Path-losers," the man interjects. "If you're going below, just go. Don't be up here blowing our cover in case those idiots show up now."