When the grim "local celebrity" of the small village of Anactoria goes missing, its townsfolk reach out to the Pathfinder Society for assistance. A group of heroes arrive just as a band from the rival Aspis Consortium have headed out into the nearby swamps. Is this a coincidence, or is there more going on in Anactoria than meets the eye? Of course, everything is subjective when you visit a town where its celebrity is a mummified bog corpse!
Lost Maid of Anactoria is a tier 3-6 scenario written by Scott D. Young.
The fog-shrouded city of Caliphas rests uneasily on the shores of Lake Encarthan. Though crowded with refugees from Lastwall, the city's decadence still shines through in its perfume and wine industries.
It's early morning; you splash through oily puddles in the mist-soaked streets, en route to the former Havenguard Asylum — now a Pathfinder Lodge — to meet one Doctor Beaurigmand Trice for your mission briefing.
As you approach the old asylum, you notice several other Pathfinders trudging through the shadowy streets, heading the same way. A perfect moment for an introduction!
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A slightly disheveled looking woman stalks down the street toward the asylum. She towers over many of the men on the street, and her face tells the tale of her Kellid ancestory.
Her movements however are not those of a warrior, although a slim blade does hang at her side. Her footsteps are those of a dancer, and her eyes have a characteristically Varissian appearance to them.
Her clothing however is neither that of a kellid warrior or a varisian traveller. Her dress is that of a scholar, and the ink stains on her fingers say that she writes at least as much as she reads. All in all she presents an exercise in contracts.
Eyeing up Jiki she pauses, sighs, and extends a hand.
"Teja Khellekdottir. Scholar." she says.
"I came up here to conduct some experiments on the effects of sunlight on incorporeal undead. Although I've been warned the subjects are often unwilling to participate. I have a theory that the sun works on an etheric level, disrupting.." she trails off, realising her audience is probably not quite so interested in the working of the occult as she is.
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Astride a barded pony sits a short figure dressed in gleaming plate armor. He rides carrying a lance upright, red and green streamers trailing from the weapon. Behind him riding on a donkey is a middle aged man dressed in clothing that was fashionable and expensive at one time, but in the last decade have been repeatedly patched and repaired. The diminuitive knight trots forward and raises his visor, revealing the face of a stern looking goblin.
"Greetings, to you all, noble friends and travelers. I am Parnes Soranus, chivalrous knight errant and dutiful servant of the Pathfinder Society. Joyous day, for I have heard that our task is the rescue of a maiden fair!"
"I do not know the effects of sunlight on undead, for such vile creatures tend to eschew the glorious light of day and I am not a scholar such as you; but I can tell you from my adventures I have witnessed that enchanted steel has a profound effect upon them."
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The stoic and chilly exterior of The Black Hart strikes any who see them. They stand at a lithe and thin 6 foot tall, dressed in purples black and greens in typical pirate fare, a jacket, V neck puffy shirt with laces, a corset and short practical sailors breeches with boots that have plenty of tread that seem to have been treated against water with some kind of alchemy. Setting them apart is a wooden mask adorned with the antlers of a mighty stag or hart and a pirate flag depicting a broken heart with a cutlass run through it. Their dark skin and pointed ears give the only real tells toward their true identity, obviously an elf from the Mwangi.
Hart stands with a customized staff topped with a black hart-shaped gem and a large book with weathered looking pages at their hip.
You may call me The Black Hart - yes that Black Hart, the one and only. I am an associate of Calisro Benarry and I suppose that makes me a Pathfinder Field Agent these days. I find myself uneasy hear in Ustalav - the incredibly wealthy living in opulence while the street is crowded with refugees seems to be a recipe for 'social change' - or revolt.
They look up with some unease at the lodge being a mental asylum. We should be careful we don't get too comfortable within these walls. But I am a master of the elements. Fire, wind, water...and of course the hart. they say with an expressionless masked face that make it impossible to tell if that was a joke or not.
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For a moment when the knight raises his visor Teja's low hopes decrease still further. It's like the whole society has been overrun with goblins. she sighs.
Then, peering into the shade of the visor she notices the goblin looks, vaguely, familiar.
"Sir Soranus? I do believe I recognize you. It's been a while."
She gestures the man on the donkey "A new follower? Or a chaperone?"
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Early morning. Manny hops out of the bedroom, freshens himself up, grabs his lute and whip and leaves the inn. He spent the whole night playing The Thirteen Scriptures of the Holy Lance, and he only got to Scripture seven before they told him to stop. A vampire spy probably got uncomfortable about his family's undead slaying exploits. Oh well, Cassie enjoyed it, and the remaining six scriptures, in private. She was kind enough to say goodbye before she left, that was nice.
Ustalav's refugees reminded him why he was here. Someone is always perverting the laws of the death, and the Whispering Tyrant racked up a long list of violations. Some of his minions are bound to sneak in and weaken the region's defenses against the undead onslaught. He swears Lastwall will be the last wall that falls against the monsters of the night.
"'Sup everybody, I'm Emmanuel Holysmith. Friends call me Manny. You can call me Manny, too." He offers a high five (or low five) to the other Pathfinders. "My cousin Richard once held an impressive bust of a man's head- it was enchanted to radiate pure sunlight. He said it turned three vampires into dust, right in front of his eyes." He tilts his head. "He also said the sunlight blinded him until he found a cleric to cure him."
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"Tis good to see you again, noble Teja of Khellekdottir. It seems you have prospered since we last met!" the goblin says warmly.
Parnes introduces the man riding with him. "This is Horatio. He is only person of noble birth that I have encountered who has been able to look beyond the green skin and seem the chivalrous heart beating in my breast. He has been unfairly deprived from his rightful inheritance, but when it is restored I have vowed to serve as his vassal; for as long as he rules with justice and fairness. Until that day comes, he assists me with his considerable knowledge of the social customs and mannerisms amongst the noble classes within these lands."
The man lets out a phlematic cough before offering his hand. "Yes, yes, pleased to meet you. Quite charmed."
"I have not heard tale of the Black Hart, but I believe that I have heard stories of the intrepid young Emmanuel Holysmith. It is quite fortunate to be traveling with such an accomplished minstrel, so that the brave deeds of Parnes the Goblin Knight can be told across the land! And perhaps your fame too will spread, Black Hart!"
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Jiki pouts a bit that no one is talking about his fame, but quickly plasters a smile on and says to Parnes, "It is sad the hoops we have to jump through to show society that we are not all fire-crazed maniacs. And I don't even know how to light the hoops on fire!"
You are directed to the conference room of the Vodavani Lodge. The utilitarian space bespeaks its earlier incarnation as Havenguard Asylum… it's small but comforting, with paintings bearing abstract images in soft colors hung on wood-paneled walls. Seated at the head of the table is a disheveled man who seems more than a little relieved at the arrival of help.
“Ah yes, agents, come in. Sit down. How are you all feeling? I’m glad you are here—and seemingly in good health?" He appraise to scan each of you, ever a doctor.
"Very well, I’ll come to the point. We’ve received a letter from a friend of the Society, Mother Belchescu, a Pharasmin priestess from the peat farming village of Anactoria. They’re famous for the ‘Maid of Anactoria.’"
"It’s a bog body, the corpse of a human female, preserved in the bog for hundreds of years. Quite fascinating! The anaerobic conditions in the bogs north of town prevent decay, resulting in a natural mummificatio — ahhhh, sorry. To the point. Right.” The doctor rifles through the mess of documents on his desk, producing a folded letter.
[b]“The uneducated locals believe the Maid has mystical powers: healing tears, whispers of portents, the usual. All rubbish! But they rely on the Maid to draw tourists, so it’s rather important to them. Mother Belchescu has asked for our help in protecting it—the Aspis Consortium has been snooping around, and she believes they mean to steal it. Alas, so many patients need my help here these days. So, the mission is yours! Investigate the Aspis agents’ motives and ensure the Maid’s safety. Any questions?”
The grace of the Lady of Sorrow be with you until death. Please excuse this brief missive, but I write in haste so that this letter may make the outgoing stagecoach and not be delayed several days until the next.
Several members of the Aspis Consortium have been frequenting town of late, showing special interest in the Maid of Anactoria, of which I trust you have heard. I fear they will try to steal the Maid, which as you know brings many visitors to our humble village. I well recall your connections to the Pathfinder Society, and I beseech you to send some of those agents here to guard against any impropriety by their rivals.
I hope to see you before the last journey on the river of souls.
In faith,
Mother Belchescu
Jiki knows that the Aspis Consortium is an amoral business organization, interested in knowledge and history only if they can make a profit from it.
Their agents wear a metal badge that shows a snake eating its own tail. Bronze for the rank and file, silver for the ones who coordinate and assign missions, and gold for the most influential leaders—short of the Patrons who run the organization.
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Manny nods. "Tourism brings in much needed money. The locals use the money to help their infrastructure. Ransoming the Maid could be a big problem..." Manny shakes his head.
"The Maid is just a preserved body, right? It's not... animated or anything?" Shylye would be terribly upset if I supported evil undead.
Teja mentions the Mosquito Witch and Manny lights up. "I never did find that Mosquito Witch. Just more and more rumors. Did you find anything? Or..."
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The Black Hart nods. They had been to Anactoria at least once before, though it was many moons ago. They would have to meditate on that in order to recall more about the place, but they were sure that it would come back to them.
Not that I...object to going to play guard duty for some sort of local superstition - which I am sure is every bit as much the poppycock as Astrology and Straw Dolls and whatever else this society sends me to deal with. But I must ask...what's our angle Captain? A pirate like me is always looking for a percentage and I can't say I see one going into a peat bog moss farm like this. Is this really just to play tit for tat with the Aspis? I thought they weren't really a threat anymore! They say in an evenish tone that only really inflects at the end of sentences to indicate inquisition or exasperation.
The Black Hart turns to Parnes You can state in your tale about me that The Black Hart is nobody's fool.
"The Maid is just a preserved body, right? It's not... animated or anything?" Shylye would be terribly upset if I supported evil undead.
Dr. Trice smiles. "As far as I know, the mais is a corpse — completely nonmagical, not undead. Of course, one of these so-called miracles like healing or prophecy have ever been properly authenticated. It’s all confirmation bias and wishful thinking on the part of superstitious farmers.”
But I must ask...what's our angle Captain? Is this really just to play tit for tat with the Aspis?
'Cut off the head of a snake, and the body's just rope?' Dr. Trice considers the Black Hart's question before responding to them. Sadly, I worry that isn't quite true. The Aspis can still be a threat, and we should contain them wherever they appear before they rebuild.
In particular this case, I would prefer we prevent unscrupulous individuals from capitalizing on local superstition. I might think the the legend itself is all a bit silly, but we should still do what we can to prevent mendacious opportunists from preying on the local villages and farms.
And perhaps we can learn a little about this phenomenae for ourselves along the way!
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The Black Harts featureless mask betrays no emotional response, but they nod along Well...one does have a lot of experience fighting off underhanded so-called scalawags. Very well. Off to Anactoria.
The Black Hart is sure to purchase a lesser antivenom just in case they encounter poisonous vipers or insects.
Dr. Trice charters two black-lacquered coaches to take you to Anactoria. You arrive in the afternoon of the second day, stopping in front of the Weeping Willow, Anactoria’s sole public house.
As the driver hands you your luggage off the roof, a dozen or so dour-looking villagers gather about. Some of them carry cudgels, pitchforks, and staves. The tavernkeep steps outside, loaded crossbow in hand. She sneers at you and your carriage.
“So, you Snakes have returned to carry off your prize?” She intones in a thick Ustalavic accent. "I do not think so. In fact, I think you had best turn that carriage around and head back to your Aspis masters. You will not steal the Maid of Anactoria." The other villagers mutter in agreement and move closer.
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Manny enjoys practicing some tunes on his lute. He offers to team up and make a new song Recover the Maid, about how the Pathfinders will help restore the wonders and mystery of Anactoria.
Once he steps off, he pulls his lute, moves ahead and strums some opening chords, not really paying attention.
"And the Maid will be restored
The Pathfinders will be adored
The Aspis will be floored and...
hmm, how do i finish that."
A pitchfork plucks one of his lute strings.
"Oh! Hi there. Didn't notice the angry mob." Shylye, a little inspiration?
"Oh, you think we're Aspis? Fear not, we were sent by the Pathfinder Society." He motions back. "In fact, we have a letter... sent by Mother Belchescu herself. She asked us for help against the Aspis."
He turns to the mob leader. "If that is you, Mother Belchescu: We're here! If not, send for her and she can verify who we are."
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The scholar steps forward, glancing at her companions.
"I'm sorry, but I think we may have been misidentified." she starts.
"I am Teja Khellekdottir, of the Pathfinder Society. I am a scholar, who is very interested in seeing the maid, but" and here she offers a small shiver. "have no interest in stealing it at all."
She looks around the small town.
"My understanding was that the Maid brought visitors to your town. Is this how you greet them all?" She shakes her head. "I suspect not, from which I guess there has been some other unpleasantness recently. Perhaps if we all retire inside your fine establishment..." she gestures to the Weeping Willow.
"And you tell me about the Maid, her history, and what recent misfortunes cause you to accost tourists in such a manner."
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The Black Hart quietly puts away the jolly roger for the time being (actually handing it off to Jolly Roger, their capuchin monkey familiar), realizing it probably isn't helping the others arguments that the party isn't here to pillage their village.
But, as they are not well gifted with gab, they do not speak up.
But under their breath mutters something about having no interest in a stinky bog-preserved body anyway.
The crowd disperses, especially when Teja displays her Wayfinder. Some of them look disappointed, muttering things like Eh, what're pathfinders doin' here? Were're them damned Aspis? They needs a good beatin'!
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As the crows disperses, a depressed-lloomking woman comes forward. She smiles sadly. Ahh. You must be the Pathfinders sent by the good doctor, yes? She has with her the local sheriff, a socky man who wears a dirty black trenchcoat and faded silver badge. This is Constable Fieru. Please… come with us to the Weeping Willow. I've arranged rooms for your stay.
After you get settled (by an apologetic-looking inkeep!), the dour Pharasmite explains the situation.
You may be wondering why the townsfolk are so angry. There has been an urgent development. She sighs sadly and looks at the floor. Just today the Maid of Anactoria has disappeared.
The constable nods dolefully. If you can, will you recover the Maid? It would be nice if you did so as quickly as possible, lest our village's greatest treasure be lost forever.
A solemn nod. Thank you.
Not everyone knows the Maid has been taken, yet. But the mob is angry and know the Aspis lurk about.
I hope that you can make good use of these in your efforts. She gives you a Moderate Cognitive Mutagen and a Moderate Silvertongue Mutagen
She sighs before relaying what she knows. Just last night the Maid was stolen. She rested in the home of the Tarsolus — as she has done so for years. Sleeping in her lovely glass case. Anniki Domiri, the local shopkeep, saw something last night as well, but the Constable has not talked to her yet what with the theft of the Maid.
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Mother turns her sad eyes to you. Do you have any other questions for me?
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The Black Hart bites their tongue. It takes all of their self control not to guffah when they call what most of the world would call trash their "greatest treasure".
But that did suddenly pique their interest. Why did the Aspis want this worthless, if mildly tragic, artifact.
They considered the evidence carefully. Given that The Black Hart lacked social skills that the bevy of bards possessed they headed to the crime scene.
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"Tis not the fair maid that I was expecting to rescue, but I have vowed to rescue her and so I shall," the goblin knight vows.
"The Aspis are notorious scoundrels and have surely taken the Maid , but for the sake of justice do you know of any other people who could have taken her?"
When others have finished their questioning, Parnes suggests "Perhaps we should start with interrogating the witnesses; starting with Annika."
"As a priestess of the lady of sorrows... what is your feelings about the preserved body of the Maid being used as.." here she shrugs " a tourist attraction?"
The Maid was here hundreds of years before me. I am here to help my flock in what small ways I can, as they suffer and toil towards the reward of sweet death. I am not here to forcibly remove a tradition lifetimes older than myself. So long as the corpse is not desecrated — which it has not been, at least until today — Pharasma withholds judgement. Consider how the myriad of cultures show respect to their dead heroes the world over. An apt comparison to how the maid is treated here might be to a treasured mummy in Osirion.
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"Don't worry, folks. There will plenty of time to dispense justice. Just... point it at the right folks." He waves good bye to the angry mob. "Not the first time I got surrounded by an angry mob. One town's son was a bit angry I was leaving so soon before that private concert. Honestly I couldn't stand his guts. But that's another story." He shrugs.
"'Sup, Mother Belchescu! I'm Emmanuel Holysmith, but you can call me Manny." He goes for a handshake and a killer smile for her and the sherrif. "That was quite a welcome party, Sheriff. I'm glad they listened to us. Aspis is suspect number one, but maybe they're victims of someone else." He shrugs. "Sometimes, the mystery is too easy, until you get a bit deeper. I'd love to ask around town, but-" He waits for his teammates to speak up.
"Looks like we have a few leads. I'm pretty good at talking to a lot of people, so whenever we gather information I can get started."
Mother nods. Another person to interview may be Jahandreal, a strange elf who lives alone in the bog and wants little to do with our village.
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Annika Domiri: A local shopkeeper. Location: Shop in Village
Solace and Pietr Tarsolu: Evgeni’s mother and father; current stewards of the Maid of Anactoria. Location: Scene of Crime
Evgeni Tarsolu: The eldest son of the Tarsolu family. Location: Scene of Crime
Olena Tarsolu: Solace and Pietr’s granddaughter. Location: Scene of Crime
Jahandreal: A mysterious woman who lives in the bog. Location: The bog.
The Tarsolu family home is a two-story frame affair that seems well-maintained, in stark contrast to many other buildings in the village. From the gate in the short picket fence, a stone pathway meanders through a simple garden to the front door. A large wooden sign by the gate proclaims:
Home of the World-Famous Maid of Anactoria!
The cottage’s front room is a wide open space, twenty feet to a side, with wooden pillars supporting the upper floor. Across from the front door is a curtained area, and the curtain is currently drawn aside to reveal a long, empty glass case. The constable introduces you.
Pietr and Solace Tarsolu are in the room, being comforted by son Evgeni. Please… thank you for helping! You can investigate anywhere in the house.
Pietr begins to speak but seems at a loss for words at first. Evengi says, Take your time, father. He stands there and watches you keenly, protective of his parents.
Pieter gathers himself slowly. We have… lived here our whole lives. I inherited this cottage and the maid herself from my father before me. We live alone with our granddaughter; Evengi here is visiting us from Lepidstadt University. You can sense how proud they are of their college-educated boy. Olena, our granddaughter lost her parents in a tragic carriage accident last year. She's playing in the other room — very sensitive.
As for what happened… the father slowly signs. We slept soundly. We know nothing.
Solace cuts in: You should be talking to that elf in the bogs! Once, she asked if she could DISSECT the Maid to see what insects might be inside! Awful, awful woman! Of course I said NO!
The mother and father have a slightly yellowish tinge to their skin. Odd.
We slept like babies; another Earthfall might have happened and we wouldn't have awoken! Pietr stretches languidly and yawns. So well I feel a little foggy.
Here. in the glass case. They gesture to the case. It is fitted with a lock; Pieter wears the key around his neck at all times.
Jiki can't tell from where he is what the cause might be. He would have to ask the couples' permission to be examined.
Evgeni steps between Jiki and his parents. I'll not have you poke and prod, they are not some specimen —
Pietr waves him off. It's alright, son. Let the doctor work.
Hmmph. Evgeni adjusts his glasses and peers over your shoulders, observing you as you inspect the parents. He makes several remarks about medicine as you do so, as if trying to prove himself.
If you succeed, you may make a Second DC 14 check. If you succeed at this second check:
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Loving parents, overwhelmed with... what is with that yellow tint?
Edu-ma-cated know-it-all.
Granddaughter may be the most wise of them all.
Manny makes his mental notes and then stands up. "Sup everyone, I'm Emmanuel Holysmith." He smiles politely. "Now, I'm no college doctor..." He bows to Evengi before looking at his parents.
"But I think you've been poisoned." Manny grows serious with concern. "My first guess is the thieves knocked you out and then stole your treasure."
"Oh, how much saffron do you use in your foods? My cousin Lahla loves the stuff in her rice. One day she ate so much saffron she feel asleep for a week. Nothing we could do would wake her up. Which means she missed her cheerleading audition for the town's rugby team. She was so mad she seemed to glow yellow with rage."
Manny pauses and takes another look. "No wait, her skin was yellow because of all the saffron she ate. Just like yours."
"So... how much saffron did you eat the day before the Maid was taken?"