Aram Zey strides into the cramped chamber, his withering
glare boring into anyone who dares to meet his gaze. One of
the smaller rooms in the Grand Lodge’s Skyreach tower, the
room is nearly filled by a large table on which lie tarnished
funerary brasses and heaped parchments, leaving scant room
for occupants. “I’m pleased to see you all here,” says the
Society’s cantankerous Master of Spells, his chilly expression
contradicting his words. “The Society needs its most capable
members on this task.”
Unrolling a massive map of Taldor, he continues. “A rare
opportunity stands before us. A Taldan noble named Makarius
Bourtze has sent inquiries to Oppara and Cassomir, seeking
buyers for a trove of lore about Qadira’s Grand Campaign against
Taldor. Bourtze is the Tribune of Evondemor, a small town some
six days’ journey from Oppara.” Tracing along the chart, his
finger points out an isolated village on the Tandak Plains.
“Your mission is to visit this backwater, review the offered
items, and acquire them if a reasonable price can be arranged.
While we can offer gold, I’d like to instead suggest several fine
sculptures in trade. They depict well-known Taldan heroes,
including several of Bourtze’s ancestors. Since his line was
once quite distinguished, I’m optimistic that they’ll interest
him.” Aram hands over a bundle of carefully drawn sketches
depicting the statues.
“Frankly, we considered sending a less experienced team,
but Bourtze’s motives make me uneasy. The man’s wife was
a scholar of ancient magics who recently died in some sort
of magical accident. If something in the collection caused
the mishap, we fear the Tribune might try to unload it on an
unsuspecting stranger!”
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The dwarf examines the drawings for a while through bloodshot eyes, and the signs of a big night in a low-rent tavern are writ large all over his face, even his greasy and unkempt beard can't disguise that much carnage.
He waves a hand over the pictures, an act that comes with a waft of tobacco, rum, and the aroma of this morning's big breakfast "So we're only taking some pictures? We aren't carrying actual valuables? That sounds easy"
"What do you know about Bourtze? Is he a reasonable sort, or are we likely to turn up to some dingy backwater and find some jumped-up petty burgermeister who wants to charge big city prices for his goods?"
There is a slight chink of metal as Bully the Mongoose runs up Philthys mail armour, hides under his hair and peeks out - glaring at everyone for no reason whatsoever. It is clear the mongoose is hung-over too.
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"First, I am here instead of Orst Tilboar. I am not familiar to this group. My name is Grunyak Dweomerhammer. I am a priest of Torag. My diplomatic skills are fair and my judgement of people is usually solid. I think both will be needed for this tasking. I pledge to do what ever I can to help accomplish this transation."
Grunyak is a bald headed dwarf with a black beard and voilet eyes. He wears full plate, a backpack, and sports a holy symbol hanging from his belt.
"What happened exactly in this accident in which Bourtze's wife died? Why do we think it is connected to the items for sale with this collection? Is there anyone who our society would not like to see get any of this stuff?" "The sculptures and gold for this transaction, are we getting that there or are you handling that part?"
Grunyak rubs this bald head witha guantleted hand, probavly a nervious tick that contributed to its current hairless state.
"Bad guys to look out for, monsters and like, that is easier. This is a delicate task. Much more challenging, I think."
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Toral is a Dwarf from a Kelish merchant family. He always felt the pull of the spirits.
Toral embraces the lessons of the past as his ancestors have watched over this world since the beginning of time.
He is a stoic negotiator but has an empathic approach. He is very perceptive and understands people's motives which is very important as a merchant.
He typically walks around in his full plate and during battle tries not to attack but use spells and hexes instead.
Toral's family has deep roots in the Exchange faction of the Pathfinder Society.
~
"Ahh, Philthy! It is you again! Good to have you at my side! I do not know if it was the altar that almost burned me to death but something happened ... maybe a curse?? Well, the flames maybe have burned away the air spirits of the heavens that once accompanied me for every second of my life! Now I only see fire and heat in my dreams!!" he says a little sad.
Suddenly, he looks at Philthy. "Or was that your doing with your fireballs that you were throwing all the time!!" he asks accusingly.
~
He then looks at Grunyak!
"Another dwarf?? Goooood!!!" Toral says and claps his hands.
"Great meeting you Grunyak! And I like you much more than any Paladin anyway although this Orst is one of the better ones!!" Torals says grinning.
~
Toral then listens to the Master of Spells and sighs.
"So Master Zey, we are to do this mission to get items that are potentially dangerous??! I thought that the Exchange again forgot that I have a business to run! A business! The only reason for dragging my body to these Pathfinder events is the good pay ... and obviously the contacts and relationships ... but this seems like the right mission for me because if anyone knows how to trade good then that is me!" he says with a sly smile on his face.
He takes out one of his pathfinder chronicles from his bag of holding and studies it.
"I have two drawings you can use to make the deal. Also once in Oppara, you can withdraw 5,000 gold from the Bank of Abadar with this," states Zey as he places a document on the table. "I have arrainged passage for you to leave for Oppara tomorrow then passage to the town."
With Warmest Regards,
Captain Colson Maldris
For Cheliax,
Paracountess Zarta Dralneen
Sincerely,
Amenopheus, The Sapphire Sage
Sincerely,
Pasha Muhlia Al-Jakri
For Taldor!
Baron Jacquo Dalsine
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Torals understands his side mission well. Being a Qadiran himself, he knows that allegiances are important. But he’s also a dwarf and sometimes that’s where allegiances end for some in the Padishah empire.
”Well, then let us go and see if we can get these items and discern their nature. If it’s a curse that is family-related or associated with the items then we might be able to help beyond gold and statues!“ Toral says.
Just us three dwarves and an angry mongoose? I suppose we can do it. An unusual party, but a capable one nonetheless!"
From a piece of furniture next to Philthy, comes the sound of an animal's short cough. Fox drops into view from hiding in plain sight, with a smile on its nuzzle and waggling its fluffy tail.
It now seems to size up dwarf #3 (Grunyak), the latest dwarven colleague in its more recent ventures.
It wears a small pouch, which it opens and pulls a long wrapped content from. It is wrapped in paper, and unfolded presents 5 peculiar looking rice balls, seasoned and with a bit of almost tasteless seaweed.
It quickly munches down the 1st, waiting for the others to come take one, if they so choose.
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"Oh, it's back!" Philthy exclaims at the sight of the Fox, "And with snacks!" he devours one of the rice balls, savoring the flavour and wondering who may have made them.
[Animal speech to Fox]"I see our mascot is joining us once more eh? Did you have any questions from the brief you'd like me to ask?"
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A young, thin, yet fit looking half-elf rushes into the room.
Apologies Master Zey, my boat only arrived in Absalom an hour ago and rushed straight here.
His wild brown wavy hair covers his pointed ears, and he has a close kept beard and mustache. His face shows a weariness beyond his years. He wears weather beaten and rough-spun clothes that cover light armor beneath it and he carries a light shield emblazoned with a long sword; which stands out due to it's fine polish, compared to more natural look of the rest of his attire. He wears a long sword and dagger at his hip.
The half-elf spots the rice balls, Ooh Onigiri, excellent. He accepts the snack graciously as he pops it into his mouth. Thank you.
After swallowing the rice, Hello, I'm Carrick Castermill, a follower of the Inheritor. I'm glad to join the group.
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"I don't fully understand...Sir Carrick, is this fox yours? A pet or companion?" "Very extraordinary, I must say. It even bares gifts of food." "Well, it is good to meet all of you. I am Grunyak a humble priest of Torag."
Grunyak reads his message from his faction head.
"It appears there are bad people in the area afterall. We must be on the look out, a brigand and a spy on the loose near Evondemor, where we are headed."
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Toral scratches his head.
“No, Fox is either a humanoid that can take fox form or a magical beast that can transform to a humanoid. Well, I’m really not sure what race and he rather likes to stay in his fox form during the whole mission. I think that’s the case but Philty has been communicating with him and if you can speak with animals then surely you can do the same!?“ he says contemplating over the Fox’s motives.
~
He then turns to Carrick.
”Great meeting you!! Then we’re complete. I’m Toral! Follower of spirits!“
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Philthy runs his heavily tattooed fingers through his greasy beard in contemplation as he grins a broken smile, "Nah it has been following thr group around of its own accord for some time now, I suppose it is a bit of an unofficial mascot. I wasn't really sure about it at first, what with those tiny teeth, but then most arteries are near enough the surface of the skin that they can still be severed by a well placed bite - even from a tiny maw"
The rough-looking dwarf hauls himself to his feet and adjusts his chain mail, axe, and buckler, then offers his meaty hand in welcome to Grunyak and Carrick - the heavy steel ring 'jewelry' on each finger clearly more there for adding weight when punching unfortunates. "Philthy. And this is Bully" he points to the angry-looking mongoose on his shoulder that looks like it got dragged through a hedge on a rainy night "I'm a wizard". The strong smell of rum wafting from him as he talks suggests he is also well versed with the spirit world.
Closer inspection of the heavily tattooed dwarf reveals most of the inkwork is of Thassilonian origin, specifically relating to the Runelord Karzoug.
No, Fox is either a humanoid that can take fox form or a magical beast that can transform to a humanoid. Well, I’m really not sure what race and he rather likes to stay in his fox form during the whole mission. I think that’s the case but Philty has been communicating with him and if you can speak with animals then surely you can do the same!?
I see our mascot is joining us once more eh? Did you have any questions from the brief you'd like me to ask?
[Animal speech] "No sir, i have been here the entire briefing. I take it you have made a full recovery from the tomb encounter, you seem optimistic as before."
You cannot take 20 on disguise. ;-) But you can take 10.
In response to Philthy:
[Animal speech] "Indeed. If the bald dwarf is not into Onigiri, that leaves the last one for your pet. Mr Toral hasn't eaten his either....if he doesn't, split a 2nd?"
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"That does look tasky. Don't mind if I do."
Grunyak gingerly takes the treat and pops it in his mouth.
"Thank you, master Fox. That was very thoughtful of you."
Grunyak says to the Fox overly loud and slow, clearly announciating each word like speaking to someone hard of hearing or a child.
He then steps back and rubs is bald head. "This will take getting used to."
"Do we need personal time to shop before leaving, I don't. I would rather hang out at the docks and hear what is going on until we depart."
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Carrick returns the greetings, then listens into the banter with a smile. With some amusement he watches the Wizard converse with the fox in a strange sorta language.
Well I'm fresh off a boat, but ready to board another. If not until morning, I'll likely checking in at The Seventh Church, it's been awhile.
Playing catch-up Carrick asks, Now did we ever figure out if we are taking the actual statues or just drawings with us? If just the drawings how does Bourtze get the real things if a deal is struck? He directs the question at Master Zey.
Thank you, master Fox. That was very thoughtful of you.
[Animal speech To Philthy, after briefly looking at Grunyak as he said that.] "This...sounds so weird to me. To be addressed with an honorific i use for my house family."
Your journey to Evondemor is uneventful and you arrive shortly before nightfall after a few weeks of travel. The area is filled with a ghostly realm of fog. Up ahead you spot a muddy ditch and lichen-encrusted palisade guards the village perimeter.
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We are expected by the Tribune, I think, so no need for sneaking around? He looks to his travel companions he knows much better now after a couple weeks on the road, and knows the dwarves are not really into stealth missions. What's with this fog, it's thick? He comments.
Carrick glances into the ditch, as he makes his way to the gatehouse.
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Grunyak being a little bored casts a quick orison to see if the fog has a magical foundation.
"Let's see who is in the gatehouse. They might know where we can stay the night."
Pausing in his walk, Grunyak rubs his head with his guantleted hand. He leans on his long spear and says, "Hmm, would anyone prefer more light to travel by? I usually light up myself as I approach a dark area, it tends to prevent ... misunderstandings." "I would hate to be mistaken for raiders, we are an armed group approaching under cover of darkness."
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"I'm happy for us to be brightly lit up, it calms the nerves of the innocent, which is a positive, and attracts bandits and ne'er do wells and encourages them to come and attack is, which is a positive" Philthy grins his usual broken grin, his face as rough as a five-mile stretch of bad road.
"That said, who ever got robbed by a bunch of dwarves, other than the odd dragon?"
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Grunyak looks a tad embarrassed. "Light would be nice, but I did not ask Torag for it today, an oversight I will rectify for the future. I should have adjusted for the current group. My appologies."
Grunyak continues to approach the gatehouse with Carrick. "They really should put out torches anyway, knowing travelers are coming."
Nothing in the ditch catches Carrick's attention.
A pair of middle aged humans, one male the other female, look out of the gate house. The male guard shouts out, “no armed bands allowed in town without the Tribune’s say-so. Get on over to the Devil’s Fork Inn and wait there for Tribune Bourtze.” The gates open as they wave you in and point to a building a short distance down the street.
And here I was thinking this was going to be an affair involving going through many petty officials and having our business nosed into continually
Fox makes a faked sneezing sound at that very description....
Meanwhile it keeps an eye out for anything odd, like if are they being watched.
Flickering candlelight dimly illuminates the common room of the Devil’s Fork. Stained and mended tablecloths cover rickety tables, but the walls hold an impressive display of antique Chelish fighting gear. Battered shields carry the heraldry of the Order of the Lash, an iron barbazu beard rusts in one corner, and a military fork bears dozens of infernal symbols. Men and women sit and drink at various tables. Behind the bar, a dispirited-looking woman listlessly wipes leather tankards.
As you settle in, a blood-spattered man throws the inn’s front door open and storms into the common room. Clad in a blood-spattered heraldic surcoat bearing blue stars on a golden field, this man is the Tribune of Evondemor, Makarius Bourtze. The frantic nobleman gasps out, “Bar the doors! They’re right behind me!” and the inn’s twelve patrons scatter in panic.
Breathing heavily, the Tribune of Evondoor responds, "big, ugly humanoids." The door pounds as you hear a female voice screaming, "let me in! Don't leave me out here with them!"
"Is that Karina, one of the tribune's guards? I can't tell, she looks pretty beat up," yells one of the bar patrons near a window.
Fox's ears stand right up at the sudden arrival of the panicked man.
The plea for help from outside only adds to its alertness.