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A tall slender man of Taldan stock ambles down the road, reading the missive from the Society. He notices the grippli looking about.
Ho, there. You're not lost are you? Because I'm not the best at giving directions if you are...a guide I'm not. I'm Patros...which way are you heading? The weapon bouncing off his hip shows him to be a rondelero swordsman, masters of the falcata.
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"One is never lost when they have the strength of their convictions to guide them, so it is said in the deserts of Katapesh." says the tall, swarthy swordsman with a bent blade of black matte metal strapped to his back. "Failing that a guide I am, though I have not been to this strange city before."
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Your brother is a Sarenite? I have a cousin in the clergy...he didn't want to follow his brothers and sister in the family business...decided to become a priest. I admire the choice and dedication it took for him. So...I assume you are likely heading the same way as I am. And you say you're a guide? That would be helpful, should we get off track...
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A dwarf suddenly appears in your midst. He looks at you curiously.
”Hello, I am the new I think. Jangzafaar is my name. I read the report that was provided to me! Just for your information: I do not like this job.“
He scratches his red hair with a desperate look on his face.
”But what the has decided it has decided ... “
* *
Jangafzaar is a Dwarf from a Kelish merchant family. He works as a merchant and can be a stoic negotiator with an empathic approach. He is very perceptive and understands people's motives which is very important to him as a cleric and merchant.
He typically wears light armor and during a battle tries to use magic to support his companions or let his summoned creatures attack. Jangafzaar's family has deep roots in the Exchange faction of the Pathfinder Society.
Thus, the Kargar brothers Almaas, Jangafzaar, Toral and Sadaf are all members of the Pathfinder Society.
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A tall, slender traveler arrives, dressed from head to toe in black-and-white chequered clothing, traveling cloak and all. Their face is pale and androgynous, their hair white as snow but shot through with streaks of midnight black. Their eyes are piercing ice-blue.
Under the stranger's arm is a crocodilian creature with black-and-white chequered scales and the same piercing ice-blue eyes as the human carrying it.
"We are Janus Grey" says the human. "We make endings."
A double-flail is visible under Janus' cloaks, and the cloaks are clasped with a silver device resembling two hands grasping each other at the wrists.
"The Ten sent us. No doubt you received a similar missive from Valsin? It is time we hid these." Janus takes their wayfinder and secrets it within their pack.
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From a distance, Kaer Maga appears to be an enormous outcropping of gleaming, white stone extending straight up from the cliff ’s edge, its 80-foot-high walls forming a seamless, six-sided ring and its squared-off skyline broken only by a cluster of towers and minarets at the south end. Upon closer inspection, however, the great walls are revealed to be riddled with holes at every level, doors and windows carved by its residents. From these random entrances hang knotted ropes and ladders, cargo nets and winch-operated dumbwaiters, which residents use to come and go without a second thought—even children swing stories above the ground and scamper carelessly across makeshift landings. While several gated entrances at ground level are big enough for carts to pass through unhindered, most newcomers enter through the Warren, a vast break in the walls where some unknown force shattered the stone in ages past. Here a high-rise of wooden scaffolding and temporary structures towers almost as tall as the walls themselves, and Kaer Maga’s poorest citizens live arboreally on planks and nets in a shantytown of vast proportions.
Passing through the madness of the Warren, you quickly realize the true strangeness of the city’s construction, for rather than being bordered externally by stout defensive walls, most of Kaer Maga lies literally inside its walls. Hundreds of feet thick, these vast stone bulwarks are mostly hollow, riddled through with chambers large and small and housing most of the city’s population in the twilight beneath their roof. In places the chambers are large enough that structures rise up the sides or stand free like those of a conventional city, while in others its interior is split into distinct floors, with entire neighborhoods stacked one on top of each other. These areas are collectively known as the Ring and are generally avoided by outside merchant caravans, which instead move swiftly into the bustling open-air commercial districts known as the Core.
You soon find a discreet inn in the Hospice area of town which seems like the logical spot to reside, surrounded by bustling outsiders and merchants and you settle in to determine what to do next. Located in the only area of the city to receive natural light, it is around noon, judging by the hot sun beating down from above.
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• Pathfinder Society Scenario #51: City of Strangers, Part I: The Shadow Gambit
• Pathfinder Society Scenario #52: City of Strangers, Part II: The Twofold Demise
• Pathfinder Society Scenario #4–10: Feast of Sigils
• Pathfinder Module: The Godsmouth Ossuary
• Pathfinder Adventure Path #63: The Asylum Stone
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Jang has a sadness attached to his spirit that makes anybody around feel very uncomfortable.
But at the same time people see that he can peer into their soul and really wants to understand them which sometimes leads to surprising bonds.
Walking through this strange city is clearly a little awkward for the dwarf. But at least here the giant mosquito that always accompanies him is not really the most unusual sight.
Jang tries to gather information in the city about their target!
The giant mosquito makes a constant buzzing sound and its bizzare appearance is not comforting.
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"Wait! I lied. I have been here! I would recognize that orange, two-headed troll hashish dealer anywhere! ...And perhaps the reason my memories of my previous visit seem so foggy."
"Do not move, Jangafzaar. I nearly have it." says Abaal quietly to the dwarf hand reaching for his sword hilt his eyes on the monstrous mosquito.
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"Wait, Abaal. That insect has been following Jangafzaar since we met." Janus puts a hand on Abaal's arm. "Jangafzaar is not concerned by it. Nor does the insect seek our blood, as it would were it acting on its own impulses."
The tall ulfen turns to the dwarf. "Jangafzaar, this insect is with you? Do you serve the Green?"
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It takes an hour for the leg work to pay off, but eventually your group hears of a potential lead -The Blushing Rose, a brothel located near the center of the Hospice District.
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Entering the establishment, the aroma of foreign tobacco and perfume mix curiously and you stand in the greeting room with a selection of clients awaiting their match.
An ample-figured woman slides gracefully across the room and curtseys comically. "I am Madam Rose and you are all new faces. Which I just love to see. Do you need a description of the services we offer or would you like to experience them as they occur naturally?"
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Sadness? I don't think there is much in me...I've actually been to the heavens...interesting time...spent a while here. Very enlightening... the Taldan says
Madam Rose, I like the way you get right to the heart of the matter. But if we could, might we be able to talk in private? I have a matter to discuss with you...and prying ears won't do... Patros says as he nods to the matron. He looks around the business, and admires the selection.
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"Erastil, yes. But you are not a druid." Janus nods.
"We feel no sorrow, Jangafzaar. We are the sword and the shield of the Green. This is our purpose. One day this purpose will end; we will end. And that is good, for every ending is a beginning."
Janus shows no interest in Madam Rose's services but is content to see that Patros knows his way around a brothel. "If you prefer to be one on one with the Madam, Patros, we understand."
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"Wait, Abaal. That insect has been following Jangafzaar since we met."
"Stalking him for his blood no doubt." says Abaal eyes still locked on the insect.
Janus puts a hand on Abaal's arm. "Jangafzaar is not concerned by it. Nor does the insect seek our blood, as it would were it acting on its own impulses."
The tall ulfen turns to the dwarf. "Jangafzaar, this insect is with you? Do you serve the Green?"
Jang looks at Abaal with a concerned look on his face and is glad that Janus intervened.
”Yes this smart insect is with me ... I do not know why. Erastil guides both of our paths!“ he says.
"Well then. Alright." says the swordsman releasing the hilt of his blade.
"You have my apologies, insect." Abaal says to the bug and makes a slight bow.
”What about all of you? I see some sorrow in your hearts!“
"It's not sorrow, rather concern over how conspicuous we shall be while about our mission. The Lady Grippli and your ally, Jangafzaar, will mark us as surely as our wayfinders My own fame as a swordsman, and that of my legendary falchion will likewise be a double-edged blade here as well. No doubt we will be thronged with admirers of my exploits at every street corner, unless--"
He quickly doffs an ostentatious hat, and a pair of silly, colored spectacles purchased from a vendor's stall. "What do you think? Can you tell that it is me." he asks with all seriousness.
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Jang nods at Janus.
“My brother is a Druid but I am a simple cleric. I hope that we walk many steps together!“
He turns to Patros with a neutral expression on his face. “Patros! You are blessed. Th personal realm of Erastil, Summerlands, is located on Requius, Heaven's fourth level!“
Jang stays silent and blushes like Claudia.
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Finally realizing what sort of establishment the team has gone to, Claudia's green head turns almost entirely red in embarrasment.
"Yes, myself and the um, little woman-" and at this point the tall, grim swordsman in a funny hat and glasses nudges the tiny amphibious woman with his knee. "were looking for a room for the week. Is that not right, my love?"
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The Madame's eyes light up and with a practiced pirouette, she puts her arm around Abaal and extends a hand to Patros as well. "Yes then, come with me then and we will find you exactly what you are looking for."
She hastily leads you into a well-appointed room just off the entrance, highlighted by a grand four-poster bed with immaculate sheets. She motions for your group to close the door behind you.
Dropping the physical contact like a stone, she turns to face you and her eyes widen as a boisterous laugh issues from her tightly bodiced frame.
"Now, now, I have seen a lot of things in my time that would make your minds spin. But when a dwarf travels with more than one human, trouble is afoot. Something tells me it's not a room or simple pleasures that has brought you to my fine establishment this day. So why don't you just get to business? My time is, shall we say, valuable."
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"Wait. You noticed the humans in the party rather then the gigantic mosquito?" says the fighter a look of incredulity upon his face.
Quickly he recovers.
"Regardless you have obviously seen through my disguise." Abaal says with flourish, his robes swirling dramatically about him. "Did you want to hear the tale of my encounter with the fire elemental in the City of Golden Death, or did you just want something signed?"
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I bet it is ... Patros says as the matron mentions her valuable time.
I'll get straight to it. We're seeking information about some of the...less virtuous citizens here. Particularly, those that would have a beef with them. Enemy of my enemy type of thing... he says as he looks around the room.
And I'm sure you have...acquaintances and connections that would have this information. I propose a trade...the information we seek in return for a...gift,,,or a service if it can de wrangled.
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She shakes her head at Abaal. "I've courted the finest nobles and adventurers from Absalom to Zi Ha, you can save your stories for when the clock is running..."
Turning back to Patros, she giggles. "Less virtuous citizens, you say. My dear man - you have described all but a handful of the citizens in this town. Come on now, you are going to have to give me a name, or at least a detailed description. And don't worry, discretion is my second nature."
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Yes, I suppose that was a bit vague... the young Taldan laughs as he puts his hair back in a tail.
The Gaels...anything you could tell us about their goings on or their competitors would be appreciated. Got anything to drink here? I think negotiations are best over a glass of wine...or at the very least ale...I'm fresh out of my own personal stock until I hit the vintner...was a long thirsty trip here... he shrugs as he holds up an empty wineskin.
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"The Gaels...the Gaels... well, I'm not entirely familiar but I think that I know who is." Excusing herself, she moves to door and makes a hushed request.
Moments later the door opens with a flourish. A muscular woman (who stands a head taller than the other working ladies) stands in the doorframe, wrapped in a delightful pink boa. "You called?"
The Madame backs out with a smile. "These lovely folks would like to discuss the Gaels, Miss Feathers. I'll leave you be."
Miss Feathers stands a bit confused. "And I can trust them, why?"
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Patros eyes the new woman, sizing up her potential in a fight should it happen.
Now...Ms. Feathers...I assume that is either your last name or a nickname? I'm Patros. the swordsman says with a bow of his head in greeting. We have an interest in making sure that someone the Gaels have in their sights safe. Anything you can do or tell us so we can divert or redirect them would be splendid.
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The exchange is abruptly interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Madam?" Calls a man's voice politely. "I know you have guests, but I believe I've one more for you."
The Madame seems to recognize the voice and opens the door, revealing a tall, handsome, certainly-more-Human-than-anything-else man - and behind him, a thoroughly stunning-looking woman with eerie golden eyes, ember-like red hair tinged with black, and ashen skin reminiscent of fine ceramic; to call her "Human" would feel insufficient and even insulting. They are both wearing loose-fitting clothes that appear to have been donned in a bit of a hurry, but the woman also wears a sword at her side that appears to be of similar composition to Abaal's own, and from her wrist hangs a heavy golden icon in the shape of four crossed swords.
The man stays put while the woman enters the room and joins the Pathfinder; she and the man share a final look before the man bows to the Madame and shuts the door again.
There is an awkward pause, but the mysterious woman is able to produce a sheet of parchment - it's another copy of the same letter the as the rest of you!
”Fancy meeting you here! All is to Ash; I am Nemesis Melek.“
After a moment's staring at the giant mosquito - seemingly less to assess a danger than to appreciate a spectacle - she then turns to "Miss Feathers".
"'Miss Feathers', I take it? I must say, your reputation as an information-broker precedes you in the...mutual paths you and I and present company have all found ourselves crossing." You'd think with those connections, Nemesis thinks strictly to herself, you'd be able to find your way to affording a proper elixir or one of those enchanted girdles if I'm seeing what I think I'm seeing. "I should think, based on that reputation, that you know how to take the measure of others far better than most simply as a matter of survival and professional integrity. Why can you trust us, hmm? Kaer Maga is YOUR kiva, not ours," She continues, looking around at the rest of you as if to verify that statement - the sardonic, appraising look she gives the rest of you momentarily looks genuinely friendly as she looks down at Claudia...
...then resumes addressing the broker.
"CAN you trust us? As a matter of fact, you can - but how can we PROVE it to you? Only you would know, but if I were you, I should be warmed by the fact that trust is most everything in a place like this, and however vulnerable you may be, WE are doubtless still moreso, so were we dim enough to violate your trust, you would have us at a disadvantage - who knows better than a 'seamstress' where to pull the most perilous strings?"
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It takes the better part of an hour to earn Miss Feather's trust, and you are forced to listen to far too many ribald tales, punctuated by her boisterous laugh. Finally she catches your ear with "Now I do indeed know a lady named Imelda Gael, but not well enough to have met her family. She’s a rough one, all muscles and tattoos and always mad about something. Sharp as a whip crack too, but I wouldn’t be surprised to hear she’s gotten herself in trouble. She rents a lovely little house in the Bis district. I’ll give you directions, though I can tell you she hasn’t been seen there for several days. I doubt she’s left the city, but there are enough nooks and crannies around here that anyone wanting to lie low can do so.”
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The Januses observe the exchanges between the harlots and their fellow pathfinders - uncertain for a moment as to which camp Nemesis falls into.
Abaal suspects her. Perhaps not unreasonable, but if she is an enemy she has made herself vulnerable by entering our midst. Let us keep her close.
Janus does not respond when Abaal questions Nemesis. It is unlikely she would know. We did not know the others before we met upon the road.
At Miss Feathers' revelation Janus nods in thanks. "We thank you for your assistance Miss Feathers. Let us follow your directions."
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Miss Feathers stands, whips her boa dramatically around her shoulders and with a wink assures you. "Yes, well, you were really good sports to listen to my tales for so long, so I'll make sure to not spoil your trail for any who might come asking after you. I guess we're both off to our next adventure, then. Ta ta!"
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"I think that we should try to gather some more information before continuing to the lovely little house in the Bis district!" Jang says and sounds very sad.
He turns back to the streets and observes the people. Sometimes he approaches someone and although at the beginning people are irritated the discussion soon turns around ... some even breaks out in tears and Jang listens!
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Nemesis takes some time to finish dressing and armoring herself properly; in addition to her sword and icon, she reappears wearing a form-fitting outfit made largely from buckskin, a broad, black shield shaped like a sunburst, a crossbow of similar construction to the shield, and an impressive gilded breastplate; though far sturdier than what she was wearing before, the first and last have both been expertly cut and molded to accentuate her form.
Perhaps this has something to do with why people seem more eager to talk to her than the earnest but chronically-mournful Dwarf.
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It takes just a bit more time to dig up another lead in your search, but Nemesis eventually hears of a man named Shiyu who can be found in the Oriat district in the Sweettalker neighborhood known as the Street of Sighs.
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Arriving to the Oriat, you are directed to a sparse outdoor pavilion where Shiyu meditates.