In the tangled maze of sewers, ancient tunnels, and forgotten hideaways below the bustling streets of Absalom, the Sewer Dragons kobolds are in peril. Led by forward-thinking Chief Yiddlepode, the Sewer Dragons have forged an alliance with the Pathfinder Society, securing their position as the most influential kobold tribe in the city.
Recently, a catastrophe befell the Sewer Dragons. With Pathfinder assistance, the Sewer Dragons survived. Together with Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng, Chief Yiddlepode is working to relocate the Sewer Dragons to new territory.
However, Venture-Captain Dreng failed to arrive at their last scheduled meeting.
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A stout dwarf hails the gate as he makes his way into the Grand Lodge. Fresh from... somewhere... it is hard to tell from his thick accent, he carries a warhammer and shield on which is proudly emblazoned the symbol of Torag.
Slowly stomping his way through the Lodge he makes his way to the briefing room where he stands at ease, waiting for instructions.
As others arrive, he introduces himself to each in turn.
"Khaul of clan Irontoe. Shield of Torag."
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A small halfling comes bouncing in, brussing dust off his jacket as he enters. His curly blonde hair and ghildlike glee on his face make you wonder if he is really just a small boy coming in from playing in the dirt.
"Hey there, friends! I got the message to report, but sort of skipped reading all the details. Something about sewer dragons? Never seen a dragon, and certainly never heard of a sewer type. Anyway, I am here to help."
"Khaul, you say? Yes, well my name is Travis... er... of clan Proudfoot. Probably more important to you is not my family, but my calling... I am a devout worshipper of Chaldira, and in exchange, I am blessed with divine powered capabilities that can come in quite handy for these missions. Very nice to meet you. "
"Ah, and who else do we have here?"
Another dwarf enters the room, appearing more doughy than doughty, with fiery red hair singed at the ends of his beard. He is in the process of pulling off a dusty apron, which he shoves into his pack. He rummages around a different pocket for a moment, then produces a bag of pastries, which he places on the table.
"Daraj l'Bayal, at your service," he says with a bow. He then points to the food. "These meetings are often tedious, and sometimes we have to go straight to work after, so dig in! There's more where that came from." He then selects one and begins to eat it as he takes his seat.
Contrary to what you may have heard about dwarven baking, they are actually quite good.
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A bedraggled halfling woman with maple-colored skin and tawny, frizzy hair pulled back into a wild, bushy ponytail slouches into the room and plops into a chair. She adjusts a black-trimmed cloak draped over an explorer's outfit that she's layered atop a battered set of magenta leather armor, grumbling quietly to herself the entire time. Those with keen enough ears may catch words such as "dolt," "should've left," and "worst career choice ever."
Eventually she realizes someone has asked a question and she waves distractedly to her fellow halfling. "Bina. Hi." She crosses her legs underneath her and props her elbows on her knees, then rests her weary head on her small fists. Were it not for her obviously adult proportions, she could easily be mistaken for a particularly harassed-looking child.
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Zelphari steps off the ship, delighting at the sun beating down upon him. The Land of Linnorm Kings was ... interesting, but he is glad to be back in Absalom City, the place he has made home in rec ent years. He found the sea journey enjoyable, as usual, spending much of the time on deck, welcoming the sea spray. He recalls nostalgically his childhood living by the sea, so while he missed his mercenary days, the long sweaty walks and marches was one part he did not enjoy in particular. Life has moved on though, and one thing the Church of Irori has taught him is to focus on the now.
The middle-aged human man of average height steps into the lodge, his skin a tanned deep olive colour. In fact, from certain angles, it almost seems to shimmer with a bronze-like tint. He is quite well-built, but he looks rather ... weathered. He bears faint scars, as if he's seen some fighting in his younger days. Despite that, he carries a gentle smile, although a closer look reveals a faint haunted look in his eyes. You find Zelphari wearing a well-worn splint mail. Over his back hangs an assortment of weapons: a guisarme, a long bo staff, while dagger hangs from his belt. The only other thing of note is a pendant carved into the shape of Irori's open palm hanging round his neck.
"Greetings, Lady Atae. My name is Zelphari, of Irori. Sewer dragons? I can't say that I'm acquainted with ... them?" He introduces himself in his deep warm voice.
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The thumping of a heavy cane announces the belated arrival of a hunched half orc woman. Time has not been kind to her; if it weren't for the relatively few gray hairs streaking her otherwise black hair, one could assume she is quite old. She pauses just inside the threshold to glance around the room.
With a voice that sounds like grinding pebbles, she introduces herself. "Hmp. Itka here. Hi Zelphari. --Oh! Are those pastries?" Her eyes light up at the decadent looking food. Hobbling over, she hovers her hand over the spread, trying to decide which to try first as she mumble-grumbles under her breath: "Hmp. They all look so good. Which one...? Hmp." Plucking a powdered sugar-coated one with a small ooze of lemon filling escaping from the side, she shuffles to a chair and eases herself down with a creaking of joints. "Ooof! Hmp. This is delicious. Did one of you bring these?"
"Aye, that's one of mine," Daraj answers. "No sense going into a mission on an empty stomach, eh?"
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Khaul's stomach grumbles as the others eat. Visions of his hard training come back to him, when he was sent on a ten mile run after eating a large meal. He scowls at the memory, or maybe it is at the food. Hard to tell really.
"What do we know about the meeting that was proposed with these Sewer Dragons? Can they be trusted?"
Ambrus Valsin leans forward, carefully placing his elbows between papers piled atop the desk.
“Trusted? Without a doubt. For an organization as far-reaching as the Pathfinder Society, alliances are common, but true allies are rare. Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng asserts that a kobold tribe known as the Sewer Dragons are among our greatest allies. He inducted a number of them into the Lodge as Pathfinders and sponsored the training of a great deal more.”
“A few weeks ago, a clockwork drill dug its way deep underground from the city streets, passing right through the Sewer Dragons’ territory and releasing beasts from below. There were casualties, but with our help, the Sewer Dragons survived intact. Their home didn’t.”
“Dreng’s been helping the Sewer Dragons relocate. He was scheduled to meet with them this morning, but he never showed. While the Sewer Dragons were waiting, they witnessed a battle between two figures. Apparently, the combatants were so powerful, the kobolds just stared in shock. The fight ended with the figures merging into one cloaked being with a gleaming red eye. Then the merged figure vanished."
“Dreng hasn’t turned up, the kobolds are spooked, and this merged figure makes me nervous. I’m sending you to meet with the Sewer Dragons. They’ll guide you to the meeting site where the figures fought. Investigate the site and follow up on any leads you uncover. Find out everything you can about this merged figure—and speaking of leads, the figure dropped this bag as they fled. What do you make of its contents?”
Ambrus shoves aside a pile of papers he was sifting through and passes a small leather bag containing a coin and a badge over to the Pathfinders. The coin is heavy and unevenly minted. One side depicts a lightning bolt piercing a storm cloud, while the other depicts an angular rune. The badge is easily recognizable as a badge of Absalom’s city guard, with the words “Sleepless Suns” engraved in the side.
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"Aye, that's one of mine," Daraj answers. "No sense going into a mission on an empty stomach, eh?"
Itka gives Daraj a bobbing nod as she munches the delectable pastry. "Great idea! My thanks. Hmp. Mmm!"
"One red eye? Hmp. Guess we'll have to ask the Sewer Dragons to confirm that." This sounds like it's beyond a newbie like me. Then again, we did survive the fight with that devil. Barely. Her head pops up as a thought occurs to her. "Do you know where Dreng was supposed to be before that, or his plan for the day? Hmp. Doesn't seem like the sort to keep a written schedule, that one."
arena in the Foreign Quarter.
arena in the Foreign Quarter.
You don't recognize the coin's symbols.
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Do you know where Dreng was supposed to be before that, or his plan for the day?
"No, but, some of you know Venture-Captain Dreng - it's not unheard of for him to vanish for a time or get lost in an investigation.” Ambrus gestures at the papers he’d earlier shoved aside. “I’m combing through his office for any signs that what he was digging into might be dangerous, and other Pathfinders are checking places he might turn up. We’re not sure a rescue mission’s a necessity, but if it is, it’ll be a job for more experienced agents. You’re not ready to face the kind of threats that could take down Drandle Dreng.”
Maybe we should also ask the Guard if they have anyone missing from this morning?
"Good idea. When you’re done in the sewers, come back to the Foreign
Quarter and visit Shristi Melipdra. See if he can offer you some insight."Where was Dreng last seen?
"Probably working, here in his office. I'll be working the angles from this end, but I need you as my eyes and ears out in the field."
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"You’re not ready to face the kind of threats that could take down Drandle Dreng.”
So that's why you're sending us to investigate those threats. Hmp. Well, at least whatever it is probably won't have a reason to return to the scene of the crime.
"Good idea. When you’re done in the sewers, come back to the Foreign Quarter and visit Shristi Melipdra. See if he can offer you some insight."
Noting that some in the gathering look confused at the mention of Shristi Melipdra, Itka interjects. "Hmp. Shrisit Melipdra leads the Sleepless Suns, the guard force of the Foreign Quarter. They embrace cultural diversity and personal individuality, and number among the most respected and prestigious precincts in Absalom. Many members compete in the Irorium. It's famous combat arena in the Foreign Quarter. Hmp. Wonder what the connection is. Guess we'll have to find out."
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Bina frowns. "Mm. Doesn't really sound like the type of folks to go in for kidnapping. Maybe one of them tried to help and got snatched up with Dreng?" She shakes her head. "Anyway, not a bad idea to talk to the Suns after the Sewer Dragons. Uh, where are the Sewer Dragons, by the way? I've never been."
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Seeing that Khaul knows of the symbol as well, Zelphari merely nods in agreement with him, although with slightly less disdain showing.
"I haven't lived in Absalom that long, but I doubt there would be a temple to Urxehl here, at least not openly. Nor any troll communities for that matter. But are there resident experts on either you might recommend that we follow up with?"
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are there resident experts on either you might recommend that we follow up with?
"I can't think of any off the top of my head, but you may find some clues that lead you to experts we were unaware of before."
where are the Sewer Dragons, by the way?
The Venture-Captain motions for the group to follow him.
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Valsin stops at a well-used sewer grate outside the Grand Lodge.
"From here, it’s a 15-minute journey to Sewer Dragons territory. The sewers are crisscrossed by abandoned catacombs, handmade tunnels, and smuggler’s caches, making Absalom’s underground a twisting maze. Navigating this complex network typically requires great skill or an experienced guide, but the route from the Grand Lodge to the Sewer Dragons is well-labeled and free of danger."
The entire area is dark, illuminated by only rare slivers of light creeping in via sewer grates and drainage channels.
Most tunnels are 10 feet tall, with 5-footwide walkways on both sides of the 5-foot-wide central sewage channel, though the path is interspersed with narrow, rough-hewn passages cut through the walls. The stench of sewage is overwhelming,
Inside an abandoned theater, the floor is now littered with mounds of rock, wood, and masonry. Kobolds bustle by, clearing away rocks and hauling debris and broken belongings into a pile. Some kobolds pick through this refuse, repurposing and repairing what they can, while others erect wooden supports and scaffolding.
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Itka's heavy cane thunks and echos throughout the sewers as she hobbles along at the tail end of the group, trying to keep up with all the strong legs ahead of her. When she finally emerges into the abandoned theater, she takes an appreciative look around. "Hmp." It always satisfies her to see life taking over after destruction. After a pause, she glances over at the others.
As usual, she lets the more silver-tongued folks speak first, since she tends to make a poor first impression.
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Comfortable underground, Khaul is more than happy to lead the group of pathfinders through the sewers. That doesn't mean he likes the disgusting place. Far from it. But he knows his place and it is stoutly front and center, right where any danger might come at the team.
However when they reach the theatre he adopts Itka's strategy. Doing his best not to glare at the kobolds, as Torag knows they seem to be redeemed, he stands uneasily at attention, hoping someone else will speak.
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Before she can even adjust her eyes to the darkness, Bina coughs and covers her mouth. "Gods, it smells like a chamberpot down here," she wheezes. She takes a few shallow breaths to try and acclimate to the vile odor, but it doesn't help much. At least she's not gagging. The first time she had to sleep in a sewer, she spent the first hour throwing up. She'd have thought to be inured to it by now, but the stench still bothers her. Some things you just don't get used to, I guess, she muses. At least at the Lodge, you can sleep in a real bed and take real baths. Definitely a huge step up from where I was two years ago.
She does have to wonder if she's not making more excuses as to why she's stayed with the Society after all that's happened, but she pushes the thought away. They have work to do; she can dwell on that nonsense later.
Bina peers into the darkness, then fumbles out a torch from her pack and lights it. She has sharp enough eyes during the day, but darkness is darkness. "I'll lead the way, if you don't mind. I may not be able to see in the dark, but I can see in torchlight just fine, and I'm a trained scout. I can keep an eye on things in case there's danger. Besides, I can't see over all you tall folk anyway."
Bina picks her way swiftly across the filth-strewn floors of the tunnels, her step light and sure. When they reach the abandoned theater, she slows a bit to move more carefully over the detritus. She frowns at the mess and mutters to the group, "Dang, somebody did a real number on this place. Was this all from the fight with Dreng and his assailant, or are they still picking up the mess from the monsters that came before?" She shakes her head, but doesn't address the kobolds unless they address her first. She's no diplomat--surely someone in the party is better suited to talking. Her charm is a little more... abstract.
Daraj remains near the center of the group, trying to remain hidden as best he can. He keeps one hand on an alchemist's fire as he goes, but mostly tries to stick close to the group.
At the theater, he shuffles the items in his pack so that food is near the top, in case a bribe is needed, but otherwise remains quiet until someone else starts conversation.
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As the party steps into darkness, Zelphari activates the wayfinder hanging around his neck and a soft glow emanates around him. The stench threatens to overwhelm him but he stops and takes a few deep breath, almost gagging process, but that quickly gets his body accustom to the smell and soon he doesn't notice it much anymore.
He turns to one of the kobolds. "I apologise if we are disturbing in what is probably a difficult time, but we're from the Pathfinder Society. Is there someone you could direct us to to find out more about what happened?"
As the Pathfinders enter the Sewer Dragons’ home, kobolds point and chatter. A moment later, the blue-scaled kobold pounds their drum, proclaiming something in Draconic.
A trio of kobolds arrive from a side tunnel. These kobolds are Chief Yiddlepode, a green-scaled kobold with a fine blue cloak; Trapmaster
Tok, a copper-scaled alchemist and brother of Chief Yiddlepode; and Pethjun, a white-scaled kobold with a gem-encrusted metal circlet and gleaming rapier.
As the trio approach the PCs, the surrounding kobolds return to their duties.
“Greetings, Pathfinders,” Chief Yiddlepode remarks with an incline of her head and a flourish of her fine cloak. “You see our sorrow? The glorious lair of the Sewer Dragons is no more.”
Trapmaster Tok nods. “We could rebuild, but that cursed drill rendered this entire region unstable. We must start fresh elsewhere.”
“Plans are already in motion, brother. One of many reasons why Drandle’s disappearance is so disheartening,” Chief Yiddlepode replies, before turning to you. “But you’ve come to see the meeting site, yes? Ambrus said he would send a team to investigate. I’ll guide you to the place we were to meet Drandle Dreng. Perhaps you’ll find clues that we missed.”
Turning to the assembled kobolds, Chief Yiddlepode announces, “Pethjun, with me—bring a platoon of your warriors. Trapmaster Tok, you’re in charge until I return. Be safe, brother.”
A dozen kobold warriors eagerly gather behind Pethjun, regarding her with awe. At her command, the kobolds lead the way through the sewer. It’s a 10-minute walk from here to the meeting site, through dark, stinky tunnels.
As they walk, Chief Yiddlepode casually turns towards the Pathfinders, although the pointedness of her question suggests it's not as casual as her demeanor:
“I suspect Ambrus is more worried over a new enemy than the disappearance of our mutual friend. Tell me, what is your mission?”
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Itka grunts from the back of the group: "Hmp. Ambrus is searching for clues to Dreng's whereabouts. He sent us to look here and follow any leads we find." *My* concern is that Dreng is one of the folks who merged into that red-eyed being. If so, we're in *way* above our pay grade. Her eyes narrow, and her cane thumps extra loud for a few steps as she ruminates on that possibility.
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Bina's light step makes steady work across the mildew- and mud-slicked (at least, she hopes that's mud) tunnels. "Yeah. I think he's sending another team to handle that weird cloaked figure; we're just here to try and pick up Dreng's trail if we can, or any information on Cloak Guy." She glances curiously at Chief Yiddlepode. "Do you have any reason to suspect this Cloak Guy showing up and the incident with the drill loosing the monsters might be related? The Venture-Captain didn't mention anything like that, but maybe he didn't know."
"Our mission is to just find out what we can and report back."
"We want to see where the battle took place." he adds, to make clear the situation.
"I think he's sending another team to handle that weird cloaked figure; we're just here to try and pick up Dreng's trail if we can, or any information on Cloak Guy."
"Hmp. Ambrus is searching for clues to Dreng's whereabouts. He sent us to look here and follow any leads we find."
Chief Yiddlepode seems a little amused by what she sees as very ... diplomatic ... answers.
“Tell me, if you issued your own orders, what would you do? Do your priorities lay with finding a friend or uncovering a foe?”
"Do you have any reason to suspect this Cloak Guy showing up and the incident with the drill loosing the monsters might be related?"
"No reason to suspect anything ... but also no reason to rule it out."
"Find a friend, of course," Daraj responds. "How could I look myself in the mirror if something happened to one when I had the chance to save them?"
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Bina nods at Daraj. "Same. I get that logically, a covert foe has the potential to do more damage than a single lost life, but that's probably why I'm not in charge. I care about my friends. Outside of that, I only care if it's my job to care." She shrugs nonchalantly. It's not entirely true, but it's the mentality that kept her alive on the streets of Sargava and it's hard to break such ingrained habits.
Chief Yiddlepode seems satisfied - perhaps not with the content of the answers, but with the honesty. She turns to more specific matters.
“Drandle Dreng is helping us relocate to a new territory in the sewers. We waited at the appointed meeting place, as scheduled, but he never arrived. Drandle wouldn’t miss a meeting. And yet....[/bb]” She lets out a low hiss. “[b]While we waited — Pethjun, Trapmaster Tok, and I — we witnessed a strange pinpoint of black energy. It lasted a moment, then flared with an eldritch pulse that cast a pair of battling figures into the room. The figures fought furiously; had we interfered, we would’ve been killed. Of this I have no doubt.”
Pethjun hisses in agreement.
“The figures grappled, then merged. They became one form — a form with a hooded cloak and a gleaming red eye visible within. They retreated in another swirl of black energy, but as they fled, they dropped a small bag. We gave that bag over to Ambrus Valsin.”
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Hmp. So maybe Dreng isn't one of the merged beings. Maybe... Eyes narrowed as she narrows her focus, Itka begins pelting out her questions. "Hmp. One eye, you say? How big in proportion to its head? How big was the figure? What description can you provide for the original two combatants?" And swirling black energy? Hmp. I wonder...
Daraj has nothing to add, but will check the site out as well.
She is familiar with the Shadow Plane, and that the Grand Lodge has several reports of Pathfinders interacting with the Shadow Plane. The Society, in fact, recently loaned an obelisk to the Blakros Museum.
How big was the figure? What description can you provide for the original two combatants?
“I wish I could tell you more. The encounter lasted a few seconds and none of us got a clear view of the combatants or the merged figure. All three were humanoid and cloaked. One of the combatants and the merged figure were the size of a human. The second combatant was the size of an otyugh. The merged figure had a single glowing red eye in the center of its head and a powerful presence that made it feel.... more, somehow. The combatants brought with them the scent of fire and flesh. More, I can’t say.”
"[/b]Has anything else interesting ever happened in or near this spot?[/b]"
"No, this is a safe space. The last meeting spot we arranged with Dreng was where the drill exited."
"The last time we missed a meeting with him, he sent a search party to check on us; that worry saved the Sewer Dragons. I’d hoped to return the favor, but you’re no search party. Let’s hope Ambrus’ lack of worry doesn’t bring about Drandle’s death."
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“Undead!” Pethjun yips from the sewer tunnels. “Weapons up, Sewer Dragons!” The daring kobold brandishes her rapier and dashes down a side tunnel.
“Follow her,” Chief Yiddlepode commands her kobold warriors. As she speaks, a charred humanoid corpse nearly ten feet tall shambles into the meeting site from the southwest hall. Its large central eye is completely aflame, casting flickering red light and the sizzling sound of burning flesh throughout the chamber. The corpse lurches forward, a large spiked club clutched in its hand. Three flaming eyeballs emerge from another corridor.
“We’ve enemies of our own out here, Pathfinders!” Chief Yiddlepode exclaims. “You handle that brute and we’ll tackle the creatures out here. Be safe.”
+1 to all
Round 1: The bolded characters may act.
Travis
Itka
Daraj
Khaul
Cyclops Zombie
Red Eyeball
Blue Eyeball
Purple Eyeball
Zelphari
Bina
Daraj pulls out a lesser alchemist's fire ◆, moves closer to the eyeballs ◆, and hucks one at blue ◆.
plus 1 persistent plus 1 spalsh
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[spoiler=GM]
If you're interested, this lore ties in with PFS1 scenarios #0-05, #2-11, and #10-18 - I know you've played in some of my PFS1 scenarios, I can't remember if any of your characters were in my runs of those games.
"Hmp." Never a dull moment. Stumping forward to get within range, Itka begins a dark, guttural chanting. Greasy black tendrils coalesce around a chunk of rock and hurl it at the approaching cyclops zombie.
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Khaul steps forward.
"Stay behind me and use yer missile weapons Pathfinders." suggests Kaul.
He raises his shield and stands ready.
"Aghh, blast it." mutters the dwarf as the other pathfinders desert a perfectly defendable location. He hustles forward towards the dead cyclops, hoping the alchemists will handle the small group.
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Travis does draw out a shortsword, though he seems a little awkward holding it. He then casts a spell, disrupt undead, to see if he can do some damage.
You lance the target with energy. You deal 1d6 positive damage plus your spellcasting ability modifier. The target must attempt a basic Fortitude save. If the creature critically fails the save, it is also enfeebled 1 for 1 round.
Daraj's bottle misses the eyeball, but splashes on the ground and all around the flaming eyeballs. However, none of them seem damaged.
Itka sends a piece of rock at the zombie. It hits with a satisfying thud.
Khaul moves forward, prepared to use his champion abilities.
Travis casts a spell.
Round 1: The bolded characters may act.
Travis (need target)
Itka
Daraj
Khaul
Cyclops Zombie (-9 hp)
Red Eyeball (-0 hp)
Blue Eyeball (-0 hp)
Purple Eyeball (-0 hp)
Zelphari
Bina
vs DC 18
It shrugs off the magic, and lumbers up to Khaul. It swings its massive spiked club.
plus Searing Heat
The Red and Blue eyeballs beeline for Daraj, while the Purple one goes for Itka.
Round 1/2: The bolded characters may act.
Travis
Itka (-4 hp)
Daraj (-5 hp)
Khaul (-10 hp, Fort save) (Shield Block? Glimpse of Redemption?)
Cyclops Zombie (-9 hp)
Red Eyeball (-0 hp)
Blue Eyeball (-0 hp)
Purple Eyeball (-0 hp)
Zelphari
Bina