Director of Community
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Last night, while eating dinner, a gray robed acolyte brought you a message. Breaking the seal, you read the note. Sent from Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin, he requested you meet in his office early in the morning, at six bells. You should come prepared to run an errand for the Society in Absalom.
The next morning, you arrive at Valsin’s office. The door is open and he Is seated at his desk, a pile of papers to his right and a roll of scrolls to his left. Arrayed in front of the desk are chairs of varying heights and materials, interspersed with a few small tables. He gestures to a sideboard, laden with a respectable selection of cold cuts and cheeses, with baskets of bread and fruit alongside. Several pitchers, two of them steaming .
Good morning! Ambrus boomed, his voice filling the room. Welcome to my office. Please come in! I took the liberty of having some breakfast on hand, as I thought the early hour may have prevente you from eating. Do help yourself and take a seat so we can get started!
As you enter the room, you see several other Pathfinders have arrived to hear Ambrus’ greeting.
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Director of Community
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Ah sir, I would warn you. That is the rough draft of Pathfinder Chronicle talking about the fall of Lastwall. Rough and a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. Of course, you are welcome to flip through until the rest of the agents arrive. I've got a few others here if you want a bit lighter read.
Ambrus pushes the stack of books on the left side of his desk towards the undine.
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Khorshid is a small, frail and weak male gnome.
He is sitting on a military saddle on top of a riding dog that looks like a wolfhound. It is clear that this dog can fight while carrying a rider and the gnome is only slightly in control.
"I am Khorshid. May the order of things give us the opportunity to rise and shape the world. Our strength will be important!" he says with a strange smile.
He salutes you all with a slightly charming nod.
He has purple and gray hair that sometimes illuminates his surroundings. You can see that early signs of The Bleaching have manifested in him with a blanching of skin, hair, and eye color.
He is wearing fashionable clothing and has well groomed eyebrows and a long mustache.
He has a heavy wooden shield in his hand that he can barely wield. Additionally, he wears a Banded Mail armor that looks like it hardly allows him to move.
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A tall, strong half-orc strides into the room. He wears a rough-cut tunic and breeches, both of which show signs of wear, underneath a shiny--but dented--breastplate. Various bones and baubles hang from hooks, button-holes, bracelets and necklace chains. A sharpened scythe is quickly at-hand on his hip. Though his stature is imposing, his face beams of good cheer, and his eyes light up at the sight of breakfast.
"The Armenian Man is here!" he bellows on entering the room. "And you sir are The Armenian Man's new best friend. Bacon!" he squeals, diving into the provided morning repast.
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"Huh. This is exciting." says Z'Hor'll as he sets down the pamphlet. He helps himself to some breakfast, making a big show about chasing a grape around the platter with a spoon that seem to never be able to quite scoop it up.
"Z'Hor'll B'bblebr'x at your service. Stand up comedian and puppeteer at your service?
"What? What do I do? Why, I keep you all entertained, and the mood light, lest we all delve in the despair." He purposely puts his overladen plate down on the manuscript about Lastwall.
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A tall, dark Chelaxian man with a greatsword on his back walks in, accompanied by a lithe looking hunting dog.
Greetings, I am Roland and this is Baldo. I was told to report here this morning.
He will take a plate of food and a few extra pieces to feed to Baldo. Baldo will look curiously at Khorshid's riding dog.
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Director of Community
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Welcome to all of you. It does look like we are missing one agent. Perhaps if I start talking, they will wander in. That does seem to be the way.
Last evening, I received a scribbled note requesting help. The signator, Maren Fuln, signed himself a wizard of the Arcanamirum. I asked around and turns out he is a journeyman currently conducting research and teaching some of the entry-level classes.
Ambrus pauses, clears his through softly, then resumes his brief.
The note stated that one of Fuln's animal subjects escaped and he need some help locating it, along with the person who tended to it. I don't expect it will take you long to find them.
As to why we are going to help this Arcanarium teacher? He is in possession of a magic amulet the Society would like to get its hands on. The amulet reportedly belonged to a long-dead docent of the Arcanamirum named Lord Corgan.
He paused and looked at the group. I'm sure some of you have questions...His voice trails off invitingly.
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Khorshid raises an eyebrow.
“I’m sure that this is a Society Mission which will give you leverage so that you can influence the wizard to help the society at a later point in time, right?! I mean that it would be very hard for me to justify helping somebody without some clear political gain!“ the gnome with the bleached purple hair says from the back of his riding dog.
Welcome to all of you. It does look like we are missing one agent. Perhaps if I start talking, they will wander in.
“Typical. ‘Good Ol’ Kyra’ will show up eventually. Couldn’t possibly hold up the briefing until she arrives.”
A world-weary priestess of the Sarenrae shuffles in and proscribes a blessing in the air before the Ten’s Chamberlain. “Blessings of the Dawn upon you, VC Valsin. How are you this blessed morn?”
Though she wears clean vestments, the pallor of her skin and the prematurely graying hair peeking from beneath her hijab suggest she has been raised and resurrected enough times to test the Lady of Graves’ patience.
“I have just had a couple of limbs reattached, that were removed by one of those battery-powered Numerian saws. But the procedure was judged successful so here I am reporting for duty — again.
The priestess bows and smiles to each of her fellow Pathfinder Agents, before her eyes settle on Khorshid.
“I read of your exploits on a longship encased in ice, in a recent edition of the Pathfinder Chronicles, Khorshid.”
Kyra tries her ‘Mom voice.’ “I do hope you are going to be good.”
Do we know what kind of animal escaped?
“And where it escaped from?” Kyra quickly adds, as she bows to Roland.
Typical! Someone asks the question I was about to ask.
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Director of Community
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Ambrus nods as each agent asks their questions, then turns to Korshid.
“Anytime the Society helps someone, it forges a bond. We don’t help solely to have leverage, but the bond created does allow for future relations with the party helped. Stronger the bond, the more we can revisit it in the future. Offering help to Fuln will give us a relationship with him but will also strengthen our bond with the Arcanamirium as an organization and even extend the leadership of the Wise District and Absalom as a whole.”
Ambrus shifts his gaze to Roland. “I believe it was a crocodile that went missing. As for the amulet, we have a few rumors about its abilities, but nothing concrete. Zarta would very much like to study it to learn more. And who can say no to Zarta?” He shrugs, then turns to look at the late arrival.
“Of course I knew you would arrive! All confidence in your skills, ma’am,” he smiles at Kyra warmly. “I figured you were just busy, with so many requests for your presence. I, and the Society, appreciate your willingness to jump on yet another mission on our behalf. As for the answer to your questions, I am well enough to be here, thank the gods, and the animal escaped from Fuln’s laboratory on the grounds of the Arcanamirium.”
Ambrus turns to the Armenian Man. ”The amulet is offered freely in trade. As you will be turning it over to us for the Grand Archive, the Society will compensate each of you for your time spent. We are not expecting any of you to do this for gratis.”
Nodding at Z’hor’ll, Ambrus flips through the stack of papers on his right, extracts one sheet on which are several paragraphs of precise, flowing handwriting, and begins to read from the page, his firm baritone voice at a perfect volume to fill the room.
”Lord Corgan was a docent of the Arcanamirium over a half century ago. The Arcanamirium terminated his position when he was accused of forbidden magical research. He fled Absalom ahead of the authorities’ attempts to arrest him. The Grand Council of Absalom, in a closed session, convicted him in absentia. No official records of the session exist, though rumor accuses Corgan of demonic pacts and performing foul necromantic research on his students.”
Ambrus pauses and looks at the assembled agents to see their reaction to his words, then turns back to the page and continues reading aloud.
“Arcanamirium diviners tracked Corgan to Katapesh and sent a team to fetch him back to Absalom to receive the Grand Council’s justice. We found reference to his Absalom arrival via a ship’s log. After that, there is no further record of Corgan. We’ve checked prison records, Arcanamirium rosters, and Absalom historical accounts for the time. At this point, we’re assuming the punishment meted was death. As to why the amulet is named after him or what it does, we’ve not found any mention of them in the records we’ve found to this point. Hence our desire to gain access so that we can study the object.“
Ambrus places the page flat on his desk, then leans back in his chair. He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers under his chin.
“Sounds like a bit of an enigma, this Lord Corgan. I am unsure how Fuln came to be in possession of the amulet or what his relation to Fuln is. It may help to connect the dots, if you can pick up any information while you are finding Fuln’s lost animal. As always, keep your eyes open and stay vigilant! I don’t expect this task to take a turn for the worst, but if you always expect it you can’t be caught unprepared. Of course, as experienced agents, you all know this. I don’t need to tell you to be prepared. Too used to sending out new agents I guess.” He smiles warmly at the group. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
He stands, attempting to unobtrusively stretch his back in the process. “Any other questions?” He pauses and scans the room, looking at each agent in turn, to see if they have more to ask.
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"So... tracking a crocodile, probably through the sewers. Reward is an amulet that probably has to do with some type of forbidden research. Something something about a guy who may or may not be dead." recounts Z'hor'll. "So, when did all this hullabaloo happen with the probably very misunderstood Corgan?"
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Khorshid eagerly nods at VC Valsin.
“You really are unbelievably knowledgeable and also wise! It is truly an honor to work with you! Be assured that I completely understand that relationships formed over time are important and that we of course will gain power at the end!“ Khorshid says smiling.
“No more questions!!!“
“And who can say no to Zarta?”
Not you, if the rumors about ‘Zambrus’ are to be believed.
❀
Mollified by the compliments from someone as important as the Decemvirate’s Chamberlain, Kyra stops whining — for the time being.
Impressed by the depth of research Valsin has done —
— and that he is prepared to pass it on to us!
The priestess hefts her backpack silently to show her readiness, while listening patiently to her companions’ final questions and the Venture-Captain’s answers.
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"Well," The Armenian Man stands, wiping the crumbs from his mouth and giving his gear a good once-over. "It can only be as Magdh has foreseen, and who knows what she has seen? The Armenian Man doesn't, but we'll all find out!"
Before leaving the Grand Lodge, The Armenian Man finds a quiet spot on the grounds from which to commune with Magdh. He paints a pair of dots above each ear, then begins performing a series of readings with a jumble of bones and a bowl of clear water. He incorporates any Pathfinders who join or observe into the reading, directing them to sometimes hold and sometimes cast the bones. He never reveals what anything means, though he seems excited at every casting.
After an hour of this, The Armenian Man packs his things away. "Magdh reveals much, and she reveals nothing! Such is her way. We will learn more by moving than by casting bones. The Armenian Man is ready to go!"
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Director of Community
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Ambrus beams at the group, his eyes crinkling due to the size of his grin.
”I’m impressed at your thoroughness. Questions now will save heartache later. So let’s see what more information I can provide.”
He turns to Z’hor’ll. “It’s been a little over fifty years since Corgan’s trial and the ensuing hullabaloo. And I appreciate you giving him the benefit of the doubt, though only time, and your efforts, will tell if he deserves it.”
Shifting his gaze to Roland, Ambrus continues, “Nothing was said of his ancestry, so I’m going to say human. We tend not to mention what we see as average, and despite the diversity in the world, up until recently our histories have been very Avastani human-centric.”
Ambrus’ brow furrows a bit as he turns his attention to Zinta. ”Docent is the title given to professors at the Arcanamirium, as it sounds a bit more posh or foreboding than just professor. Under the docents are the journeypersons, who teach but are not tenured. Below them are the students, also known as apprentices. There are two other title honorifics bestowed on Arcanamirium spellcasters based on the ability - maven and honored arcanscenti - regardless of their status as educators."
"Above the docents are the Spell Lords…” he pauses, looking perturbed, then scribbles a note on his desk blotter, then looks at the group. [b] “I’ll have a word with them about that title. Spell Lord seems a bit…well, frankly, dated. But that is a discussion for another day with another group. To continue answering your question, Zinta, the First Spell Lord is an appointed position responsible for all questions of magic and who oversees the Arcanamirium. There is a Second through Fourth Spell Lord as well. They each have a different area of purview over magic within Absalom and its holdings.”
He takes a breath and continues. “The First Spell Lord at the time of Corgan’s trial was Lord Gyr, also known as the Primarch of Absalom. The one that went missing during the Fiendflesh Siege of Absalom in 4717 AR. Currently, Lady Darchana of House Madinani is the current archdean and holds the position of Second Spell Lord.”
“One other interesting piece of information. Each docent can sponsor one student for a full scholarship, which covers tuition, basic living expenses, and secondhand equipment. Competition for these positions is fierce, even cutthroat, and can lead to bribes, favors, or other questionable activities being performed by students to secure their docent’s patronage."
Having answered the latest round of questions, and seeing Kyra hefting her pack, Ambrus walks from behind his desk to the office door and opens it for the group.
“I wish you the best on your task and look forward to seeing you again soon for your report. Be sure to visit the quartermaster to get supplies if you need them.”
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I guess it is time we looked up journeyman Fuln to see if he has any idea which way his crocodile headed.
Roland picks up a few scraps for Baldo, and packs them away for later.
Then he picks up his gear, and moves out with the group, keeping an eye on Baldo to make sure there aren't any issues with Khorshid's riding dog.
Kyra takes a keen interest in VC Valsin’s insights into the Arcanamirium, and the various ranks of its staff and governing board.
She leans forward at mention of the missing Lord Gyr and Lady Darchana. “I have attended briefings where Second Spell Lady Darchana was invited to provide background and color.”
“Merisel doesn’t trust her, and I confess I find her motivations shadowy and the Lady herself difficult to read.”
The priestess tries to keep her everyone’s spirits up. “So to the Arcanamirium and Journeyperson Fuln?”
full-N. Füln. Fooooln.
The jaded priestess listens to a few derivations in her mind’s ear, before gazing up at the Magdhn warpriest with a new level of respect.
“That’s quite a brave thing to say to a squad of Pathfinder Fixers, The Armenian Man. But I totally agree — it is fun to say!”
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Director of Community
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The journey across Absalom to the Arcanamirium is uneventful. Early morning traffic, mostly tradespeople, move along the streets. Along the sides of the roads, tucked into the doorways and shadows, reside the unfortunates of the city, trying to take up little space and smaller yet attention. At one point, a group of young children runs into the road in front of you. They are holding wooden sticks and using them to strike a cooper's hoop, propelling it down the road. Their laughter trails after them as they turn off the main road into an alley, guiding their hoop along as they run. Though you ate just a bit ago, the smells of the food vendors envelope you, teasing your taste buds and olfactory senses with their implied deliciousness.
The soaring towers of the Arcanamirium stretch upward, an imposing stone structure behind a wall and well-guarded gates. The road to the gates seems to stretch longer as you approach. The guards in their red robe livery do not move as you approach, though you get a sense of their eyes watching you closely as you move up to the opening. Beyond the gates, the road forks into several meticulously kept stone pathways through lush landscaped gardens.
As you move through the blackened stone gates and under the heavy iron portcullis, you hear a low “psssst….over hear…..you….” from the bushes. You peer into them to see a robed figure crouching behind a well-shaped shrubbery that affords little cover to his form. He seems to be making a best effort to not be seen, though you found him easy enough to spot. Covered in soot, with smudges of ash marring his otherwise evenly featured face, he smells as if he’d spent days in a charcoal burner’s hut, a scent which reaches you from several feet away from where you stan don the path.
He continues in a low stage whisper, “Would you happen to be friends of Mr. Valsin?” leaving you with no doubt that the figure in front of you is one Maren Fuln.
“’Friends’ is not the first word I’d use to describe our relationship, but under the circumstances I’ll accept it.”
While the others face Monsieur Fuln, Kyra stands back and does a quick 180, scanning for threats and ambushes.
“How did you come to be in your present state, and how may we help you?”
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Director of Community
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Fuln eyes the group warily, leaning to the side to avoid Z'hor'll's high-five, cringing as The Armenian Man's chuckle fills the courtyard. Fuln looks around nervously. The Armenian Man can sense Fuln's nervousness and discomfort at being out in the open in the way he keeps shuffling his feet, trying to tuck himself further behind the shrubbery.
Roland, tracking Fuln's gaze, see several students off in the distance, though it appears their path will not lead them close to the group. Baldo, senses alert, does not alert Roland to anything beyond the group's perception.
Fuln's skittishness makes Kyra wary and she looks around as well, spotting the group in the distance as well as a couple approaching the gate, up the road they walked a few minutes prior. Another minute and the couple would reach the group.
Still whispering, Fuln looks at each of the group members, then towards the back of the Arcanimirium. "Follow me to my research lab. We can talk there without being overheard or observed. The rooms are at the back of the school. This way."
Without waiting for the group's assent, Fuln turns away from the gate. He moves from one shrub to the next, charting a path that keeps the shrubs between him and anyone else. He is unskilled at hiding, however, and so his efforts appear clumsy and comical.
I suppose paranoids can have enemies too.
Khorshid just shakes his head and follows on his riding dog.
When in the Wise Quarter …
Kyra mounts a ‘hobby-horse’ that only she can see. “Whoa, Meri!”
And with cupped hands, coconut-clops her way after Fuln and Khorshid, nudging Roland and the Armenian Man as she keeps pace with them. “Can’t help but think Masrah Fuln’s behavior is going to bring him the attention he is trying to avoid.”
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"No sense going to such lengths; if it's Magdh's destiny that you be found, you will be found! It can only be the way it will be! Maybe The Armenian Man is here so everyone sees The Armenian Man and not Master Fuln!" The half-orc seems somehow incapable of not finding such joy everywhere, as the chuckling continues. "The Armenian Man is big enough to make sure he is seen anywhere!"
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Director of Community
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The group moves across the Arcanamirium campus, skirting the main building and winding their way through the landscaping. Roland and Kyra keep an eye out, senses alert for any trouble. Rounding the back edge of the main building, several smaller outlying buildings appear, nestled in the shadow of the imposing edifice of the main building. Fuln leads the way on well-worn paths, passing between the smaller buildings until he stops in front of a nondescript two-story structure on the outskirts of the campus.
“You have a point, Roland.”
"Maybe The Armenian Man is here so everyone sees The Armenian Man and not Master Fuln!"
Kyra pokes a thumb over her shoulder at The Armenian Man and smiles. “Exactly the approach I am taking.”
Resuming her coco-trot, it seems Kyra might actually be enjoying herself!