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Incense hangs heavy in the air in a meeting chamber of Manaket’s Swordmeet Lodge, where Venture-Captain Obo stands before a low table. “I won’t mince words,” he declares as he strokes his graying beard. “This mission is of vital importance to the Pathfinders’ success in the Worldwound. The Society has many powerful spellcasters, yet few can compare to the Riftwardens in feats of demon-banishing. That Abyssal scar spawns many demons, and the aid of capable abjurers would be a great boon in our march to Jormurdun, the newly discovered Sky Citadel . When our leaders requested the Riftwardens’ aid, we were denied; too many of their wizards are already committed to Mendev’s cause.”
Obo’s face betrays his chagrin, and he continues. “However, in saying no, they tantalized us with a means of securing their trust and alliance. Several Riftwardens led by Jahani Jodinaj and stationed in Azir were recently preparing for a dangerous task, but they recently stopped responding to magical missives. Were we Pathfinders to investigate these Riftwardens’ disappearance, we would have performed a great service to be repaid in kind. Ah,” he notes with some pleasure as two servant carry platters of drinks and fruit into the room, “We have refreshments. May you find them to your pleasure.”
As he begins peeling an orange, he frowns and adds, “We have one potential ally in this investigation, though I doubt he will leap at the chance to help. A contact of mine recently spotted the former Pathfinder Eando Kline in the sook of Azir. He has donned the guise of a copper merchant and likely prefers a degree of anonymity, but he is also a very well-connected man; if anyone knows what ills have befallen the Riftwardens, it is he. Should he not wish to speak, tell him, ‘Sasha Antif-Arah sends her regards—healthy and alive from Andoran.’ "
“Beyond that, be careful, Pathfinders. The sands of Rahadoum are unforgiving, and the Pure Legion is even less so.”
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Incense hangs heavy in the air in a meeting chamber of Manaket’s Swordmeet Lodge, where Venture-Captain Obo stands before a low table. “I won’t mince words,” he declares as he strokes his graying beard. “This mission is of vital importance to the Pathfinders’ success in the Worldwound. The Society has many powerful spellcasters, yet few can compare to the Riftwardens in feats of demon-banishing. That Abyssal scar spawns many demons, and the aid of capable abjurers would be a great boon in our march to Jormurdun, the newly discovered Sky Citadel . When our leaders requested the Riftwardens’ aid, we were denied; too many of their wizards are already committed to Mendev’s cause.”
Obo’s face betrays his chagrin, and he continues. “However, in saying no, they tantalized us with a means of securing their trust and alliance. Several Riftwardens led by Jahani Jodinaj and stationed in Azir were recently preparing for a dangerous task, but they recently stopped responding to magical missives. Were we Pathfinders to investigate these Riftwardens’ disappearance, we would have performed a great service to be repaid in kind. Ah,” he notes with some pleasure as two servant carry platters of drinks and fruit into the room--
"AHH, THANK YOU! THOSE ARE BOTH MINE." says the delighted Pietro from his seat on the divan. He's a big man who somehow seems even bigger. He sniffs the first tray. "HM? SMELLS FRUITY."
Then he looks at the others in the room looking at him and snaps "WHAT!? YOURS WILL BE ALONG SHORTLY I'M SURE."
He digs into the first melon with relish. "MMMMM!" **NOM, NOM, NOM** "IT'TH GUD!" **NOM, NOM**
As he begins peeling an orange, he frowns and adds, “We have one potential ally in this investigation, though I doubt he will leap at the chance to help. A contact of mine recently spotted the former Pathfinder Eando Kline in the sook of Azir. He has donned the guise of a copper merchant and likely prefers a degree of anonymity, but he is also a very well-connected man; if anyone knows what ills have befallen the Riftwardens, it is he. Should he not wish to speak, tell him, ‘Sasha Antif-Arah sends her regards—healthy and alive from Andoran.’ "
Pietro waves his hand and interrupts, spitting his seeds out first. "IS HE THE 'FORMER PATHFINDER' WITH THE SLEEPWALKING PROBLEM IN THE WILDS OF VARISIA, OR THE ONE WHO WORKS AT THAT SILLY MUSEUM IN ABSALOM?"
“Beyond that, be careful, Pathfinders. The sands of Rahadoum are unforgiving, and the Pure Legion is even less so.”
"HA! WELL, WE'RE ALREADY HERE. WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG NOW?"
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Irizati (Currently in human form.) is an unpleasant looking human of average height. He is wearing full plate made of a black organic material.
You would have passed a large armored tiger on the way in.
He waits for more refreshments and only winces slightly at the loud voice.
"Do we know why Eando Kline has landed in the capital of Rahadoum?"
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"Kline was once a Pathfinder, but his philosophies conflicted with those of the Decemvirate and inspired him to leave. It was not a pleasant parting of ways, and I understand the wounds he bears are still raw; be careful not to rub them with salt." replies Obo. "Beyond that, I don't know."
Irzati has heard a bit about Azir and Rahadoum.
Azir is the capitol of Rahadoum. The entire nation upholds the Laws of Man, which make worshipping the gods illegal. The country adopted these laws following decades of religious wars, and although this has driven away the most devout merchants, Rahadoum is nevertheless the home to many influential businesspeople.
Although often referred to as atheists, the people of Rahadoum accept that the gods exist but simply refuse to venerate them, believing that the price of worship is too great. An elite militant organization known as the Pure Legion enforces the ban on religion.
DC 20
DC 25
Rahadoum has experienced several terrible plagues and other disasters in recent memory, leading some to speculate that the gods are displeased with the nation. Additionally, while the Pure Legionnaires have a reputation outside of Rahadoum of being merciless hardliners, they are educated, humane, and far from being bloodthirsty killers
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Silgil smiles and extends his hand in greeting to the half orc. Unlike many dwarves, he holds no ill-will towards the race.
"Silgil."
"I should forwarn you. The country is a bit edgy when it comes to religion. You will want to make sure anything religious is properly stowed, advisably in a Pathfinder Pouch, and that includes scrolls or wands that contain divine spells. They WILL search you. Though not everyone in the country is like that and the very rarity of such items means that there is a vigorous black market established for anything of value. Do us all a favor and don't get caught with anything like that."
"Speaking of which, I have a wand of cures and they will not be happy to see that. Anyone have a pathfinder pouch?"
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The heat of the midday sun accentuates the strange juxtaposition of salty sea air and dry, desert wind, just as the Rahadoumi caravans mingle with sailors from a dozen lands to make the markets of Azir a bustling, cosmopolitan hub of western Garund. The city’s edifices ranges from old constructions rejuvenated with elegant murals and exotic carvings to much newer buildings built with irregular angles and acute corners that combine to create an elegant mosaic of art and architecture. A vibrant soundscape overlays this visual effect, combining the sound of men haggling over baskets of dates, camels bleating in protest to their handlers’ commands, and the chorus of seagulls that soar overhead in search of an easy meal.
As you arrive there is a team of official looking people ready to meet the ship.
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"HERE! EAT THIS STUFF, QUICK. OH, AND GO CHANGE INTO SOMETHING PRESENTABLE. I'LL GET A LENGTH OF ROPE." Pietro says to Irizati passing him a wand and some some small metal vials.
DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT THE CITY LAWS ARE IN REGARDS TO EXOTIC PETS!? MAYBE YOU'LL HAVE TO TURN INTO A CAMEL OR SOMETHING."
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The guards have a quick, but thorough search through your goods. There is a moment of panic when one of them cries out "ah-hah!" but the panic passes when his superior decides that the passing butterfly was just that, and not a sign of a Desnaian worshipper trying to sneak a holy animal into the city.
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Once out upon the streets, Pietro turns to one of the humanoid party members left that have been eaten (possibly just Silgil now) and says. "RIGHT. IF ANYONE ASKS YOU'RE SIEGFRIED AND I'M ROY. UNDERSTAND?" Then he winks hugely, runs his finger along his nose and nods.
"WE'RE TRYING TO NOT ATTRACT ATTENTION AFTER ALL." he says, and adjusts the leash to his 15-foot-long tiger.
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As you disembark one of the guards notes Grog's tattoo. He hands Grog a cloth wrapping. "Cover that tattoo. Uncovering it in public is an offence against the Laws of Man and you will be punished."
The two tigers are a bit of an issue. "Are they well trained? Who is responsible for their behavior?" asks the guards.
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Silgil is not much in the hobnobbing department, but unlike Pietro, he knows it.
Instead he tries to bring his superior intellect to bear, though how superior remains to be seen as he looks around for signs that a pathfinder is running the show and the business is somehow different that the locals.
And if he notices any of the shop sporting high quality copperworks
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"WHY I AM, OF COURSE, OFFICER. ROY'S THE NAME! OF Then in a sly aside to the soldier he says "WE'RE BRANCHING OUT INTO A LINE OF EXOTIC FAMILIARS NEXT SEASON. YOU WOULDN'T HAPPEN TO KNOW ANY LONELY ARCANISTS WOULD YOU? WE'RE DOING A PROMOTIONAL DEAL ON SHOCKER LIZARDS."
"OF COURSE THESE BIG PUSSY CATS ARE WELL-TRAINED! THEY COME FROM DON'T THEY?" Pietro says mildly insulted.
"COME HERE. WATCH. I'LL PROVE IT TO YOU." Pietro sticks his whole shaggy head into the mouth of the one he thinks is Irizati. "SEE? SAAAY, THERE'S AN ECHO IN HERE!" **HERE, HERE, ERE, ERE....**
"I'LL HAVE TO PUT THAT ON THE BROCHURE. WRITE THAT DOWN SIEGFRIED! OH AND MAYBE SOME BREATH MINTS, TOO...."
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The guards look at one another, and the manner in which at least one of the tigers acts and nod. Arcanists are often a little odd themselves.
And so we return to the market, where the team's emotional support animals are provided a wide berth by the normally pressing crowd. Although a small gaggle of children does tag along watching, oohing and ahhing.
Nobody knows the name of Eando Kline. But the picture provided does get the occasional glimpse of recognition, but nothing certain.
Eventually Silgil points Pietro towards the south end of the market, where a helpful bystander directs you down another row of tents. Checking slowly you come to a spot... between tents. Where their has obviously been a tent-shop, until recently.
To one side there is a baker, and to the other another copper merchant.
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"Hello, hello. Can Ishe interest you in some quality copperware on this fine day?"
She eyes you up cautiously. "Visitors? Perhaps a copper collar for your fine animals? I have just the thing. " She holds up copper torc that must be sized for a giant! "Look how it accentuates the fur of your magnificent companions! Yours for only 50 gold!"
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Pietro thinks the torc might be a little large for him.. but perhaps he'll grow into it?
Ishe grins at Silgil. "I knew you for a cannie bargainer. Tell you what, I'll sell you one for thirty, but if you buy the matched set, I'll give them to you for fifty gold."
As she talks she leans forward. "And what brings such exotic people to my fine stall? While I'd love to think that word of my works has reached as far as ..." she leaves the sentence hanging, waiting for you to tell here where you are from.
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As she talks she leans forward. "And what brings such exotic people to my fine stall? While I'd love to think that word of my works has reached as far as ..." she leaves the sentence hanging, waiting for you to tell here where you are from.
Grog leans in and smiles, then whispers.
"We're looking for a cooper merchant."
Then says in a louder voice.
"How about 25 gold for the collar?"
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The Ishe is more than happy to take your ten gold. "And just another 20 and you can keep it... No.. the Baker is Santigo. Though rumours has it that the buns you buy from him are not the ones he has in the oven at the moment.." she grins
"Maroc has been trading out of that stall.." - she gestures to the empty space "For the last couple of months. He was hear this morning. I was with a customer when he left, but Santigo may know. But I should warn you, he is a total gossip."
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Silgil nods, and idea forming in his head.
"I guess you get your wish Pietro. We are going to the baker."
Silgil leads the way over to the baker all the while glancing over at the empty space curiously.
"My friend here would like to get something. I would like to ask you a question. If an enterprising jeweler like myself wanted to set up shop in that space next door, what would it take? It does not look like it is seeing any use."
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"Well... it's not in use now says the baker.
"[b]But it normally is in use by a copper merchant, name of Maroc." His eyes narrow a little. "But you probably already got that out of Ishe didn't you? I saw you talking. Honestly, that woman is the worst gossip in the whole market. No wonder her husband left her. And her second one. Kept commenting on their... inadequacies... to all her customers. "
He turns to Pietro. "Ahh, I see a discerning customer. What will it be? I have loaves, sticks, soughdough and sweetmeats. " He pauses for a moment. "I think the sweetmeats! This custard is almost to die for!"
He stops himself after a moment "Not that you would. Nobody dies from my stall. No, those on the very threshold of the door of death itself have been known to turn back on it when the scent of Santigo is in the air!"