Dot in here and we'll get underway.
af
The Merry Mayfly darts across the sea - bound for Xin-Edasseril - carrying a cargo of Chelish wine, Varisian grain, and a group of Pathfinders on a special assignment.
Heidmarch Manor in Magnimar is two days distant at this point, but the message from Shelia Heidmarch is still clear: "I have been requested to provide a group to resolve a delicate manner for Venture-Captain Valais Durant. Also our dear friend Guaril Karela is involved. You'll meet at sea. The Mayfly's captain has been instructed."
A sailor shouts from the rail and points to starboard, where a speck of gold appears on the horizon. A distant sail: The Lightbringer.
As your group assembles - ready to receive more specific orders - feel free to describe your characters and make introductions (you've had a couple of days at sea together to get acquainted, and it's still two days journey to Xin-Edasseril).
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"Robbing? I doubt that, but I'm sure there will be things to see and do. Maybe bring a few bits and bobs with us." an older human responds, unruly hair and beard starting to go gray. Battered breastplate covered in straps, bags, and pouches. From all the various straps charms, fetishes and gods know what else hang.
He takes in the sea with gray eyes, breathes deeply, and finishes "At least this will be somewhere new, much to learn and see."
The Lightbringer swings along-side as the respective captains yell orders to their crews, then - the manoeuvre complete - share a satisfied nod of recognition.
You’re shown aboard, led below-decks - through very tidy quarters - to a small room in the aft, where Valais Durant greets you with a warm smile, and Guaril Karela offers a sly grin. There, around a paperwork-strewn table lit by softly swinging lanterns, she lays out the situation.
”Again, thank you for accepting this task. It is one that requires both great risk and exceeding discretion. You all know Guaril Karela-” she gestures to the green-eyed Varisian man, “-and his prominence with the Sczarni.”
”The Sczarni maintain a smuggling ruin, providing freedom to those chafing under the oppression of Belimarius, the Runelord of Envy and ruler of Edasseril. Demand for such services is high,” she pauses and casts a disdainful glare toward Guaril, ”allowing the Sczarni to extract hefty sums from desperate patrons. I find the practice rather distasteful, however collaboration with his operation grants the Radiant Oath some measure of oversight in ensuring proper treatment of the refugees. Further, I have Guaril’s personal assurance that the Sczarni will not demand more in payment than their clients can afford.”
Guaril smirks as he interjects: ”Transportation's expensive. Not to mention-” he begins ticking items off on his lanky fingers ”-paying off the border guards and the harbourmasters, concocting schemes to get ‘em out, avoiding Belimarius’s patrols, even finding captains to navigate these waters in the first place. And with all that, don’t forget that Belimarius has placed a price on my head too.”
”Something you’re well-accustomed to, I’m sure,” Valais notes.
Guaril shrugs: ”Listen, I had a new list of clients ready to go before I had to make a hasty exit last time. Most of the arrangements have been made, you just gotta talk to ‘em, give them a place and time for departure, escort ‘em out of the city - and don’t let them forget their payment. You’ll get a hefty - and very fair - cut as compensation.”
He hands over a small sheet of scrawled paper: ”Client list. Memorise it, then tear it up, burn it, swallow it, don’t let Belimarius get a hold of it, otherwise you’re signing the death sentence for everyone named on it.”
”I’ve also got documents to verify your new disguise: you’ll be entering the city disguised as merchants. The papers will grant you passage in and out for five days before they expire.” He hands over a set of documents. Forgeries, or official, you're not entirely sure, but they certainly look the part.
”At dawn on the fourth day the ship Rolanna’s Prayer will arrive in a bay just outside the city: Shard Cove. Their boat can accommodate only five clients, but it’s an excellent opportunity to escape the city undetected. Flitch - one of the clients - knows a secret tunnel that’ll take you there. Any remaining clients you gotta smuggle out of the city by the docks, which means getting them past the guards. Your ship, the Merry Mayfly has to depart once your papers are expired and your five days are up.”
”Also, you gotta expect to build some level of trust with these clients first, as they were supposed to be dealing with me and now it’s a few days past when I should’ve contacted them. But I’m sure our old friend Sheila Heidmarch has picked a fine bunch. She knows what kinds of jobs I get you Pathfinders into.”
”That all said, I gotta caution you again: you’re in Belimarius’s back yard. You’re foreigners. There’ll be eyes everywhere, and plenty pointing at you. Don’t do anything to draw unnecessary attention. Don’t get involved with the authorities. They’re well-trained and very capable. These aren’t some bumbling thugs from Korvosa, they serve a Runelord. Keep your wits about you and your blades sheathed. Don’t get arrested or interrogated, and if you do just pay whatever fine and don’t say anything.”
Valais finally gets a word in: ”Our goal here is to bring hope and freedom to as many souls as we are able. It is risky, but hope and freedom are worth the price.”
The big spiel complete, the pair sets about answering your questions - between snide remarks at each-other's expense - and explaining the nitty-gritty details of the task at-hand.
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Darius listens to the mission outline and the various questions and clarifications quietly, stroking his beard. ”Mystery, skulduggery, intrigue, excitement. What I’ve come to expect. I have never yet had a chance to visit New Thessolonia, this will be worth the trip for that alone, short as our stay will be.” he then eyes the group and settles back against a rail to think.
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Homely and unremarkable, with brown hair and eyes, beige skin, and usually a contented expression on her face, Illnore parked herself near her comrades for most of the voyage. She chatted with them about their experiences in the Society and before and introduced them to her eidolon, Chiselnits. He's a spiky ball like a burr that's much larger than her, with one thick, muscular viney arm and two thinner thorny arms, which he uses to walk tripod-fashion on the stairs and ladders. When he wants to move swiftly over flat surfaces, he retracts his thorns and rolls. Most of the time on the ship she didn't manifest him, because his thorns would pockmark the deck (he's not always as careful with them as he should be).
"Don't draw attention to ourselves? Hmm. Maybe I shouldn't waltz in there with Chiselnits, huh?"
After reading over the client list, Illnore asks: "So, it looks like we've got...nine people coming. This mentions Filch's uncle, Frallino. Who's he? Is he coming too? That'd make ten. Oh! And about Themolin: if we go to the Ministry of Tithes to ask for him specifically, won't that be suspicious? Do you know where else we could contact him?" I suppose I could convince them that he's the only one who knows the details of our account.
Gauril grins: ”I might have only made arrangements for five, but you could charge much more for ten…”
”If you can offer freedom to more needy souls, the Radiant Oath will praise you for it. Just don’t jeopardise the entire effort for it. Ten is more than five, but none and a group of a captured Pathfinders is worse.” Valais advises solemnly. ”I trust your judgement, Illnore. May Desna smile upon you in these times.”
You return to the Merry Mayfly, full of anticipation, with a couple of days further sailing to plan. Who do you wish to pursue first? Is there anything that you need to discuss regarding your cover story as merchants? Yukathiel has volunteered to act as hired muscle, perhaps that informs the origin of your fictional wares as being from someplace dangerous…
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"Huh. Interesting. I heard some of the sailors chatting about a previous merchant they’d worked for who had traded in Xin-Edasseril and they’d had to leave the city without him after he’d been hauled away by the guards. One said he’d been smuggling illicit goods, another claimed he’d been too brazen in his worship of Cayden Cailean and that Belimarius didn’t tolerate these “new” gods. One said he’d been practicing a pinch of magic, and that the guards could not only tell but also would arrest you for it: only Belimarius was allowed to use magic in Xin-Edasseril. Of course, it's sailors' gossip, so who knows?" Illnore finishes nervously.
"I can do the talking if you like. Most people underestimate me, what with being a homely halfling and all, plus I can be really charming when I put my mind to it. So...We're merchants. We ought to get our story straight. What're we selling? Ancient artifacts? That might explain the armed guard. And where did we sail from, and where are our headquarters?" And how do we keep a magic user safe in a place where she can't safely use magic? Oh, Chiselnits, I wish I wasn't so scared to summon you! If only I could hid our sigil when you're here!
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"I've heard of Belimarius, but nothing very useful for our mission here. Plan sounds fine, get as many out as we can without a fight. I can pass for a merchant, or a scholar, I know a little about a lot and have been blessed with the gift of gab." Darius says with an easy smile, then, shifting to a much more sinister expression, "Though, I also can pass for an armed escort, my talents do tend more toward the ... unpleasant."
DAY 1
You arrive at the break of day. Xin-Edasseril rises before you like a golden, spiny creature from the brilliant greenery of Peridot Isle. Spires and towers protrude above an encircling wall of yellow stone. The architecture is strange yet familiar due to the prevalence of Thassilonian ruins across Varisia.
Its docks are clustered with ships, their crews all sat about performing maintenance, playing games, or sharing tales or breakfast.
A huge wall encircles the city, imposing in its height and breadth, yet marred by tremendous cracks, and sections that seem to be dissolving into sand as fast as some workers can mend it. A single gate - guarded by a group of soldiers in brilliant gold-and-green - leads through from the docks. No-one moves towards it.
”Have to wait for the tenth hour to ring out,” the Mayfly’s captain explains, as the ship begins unloading in preparation. ”Outsiders aren’t to be trusted, so we get a curfew. Only eight hours to move about and do your business, have to be inside after that else the patrols will catch you and haul you in for fines or worse. Oh, and don't expect to get around the city very quickly either; guardposts and inspections, traffic, and some roads that don't even go anywhere anymore.”
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Illnore, the merchant; Darius, the lieutenant; Yakuthiel, the guard; and Dolan, the bookkeeper. A small group to feel out a new city. Perhaps a Chelaxian origin. A halfling would be unusual, but it would also explain the heavier protection. Can't be too careful when your people can be enslaved.
Start with Flitch and see if he points us anywhere... Your plan sounds reasonable.
DAY 1 - MIDDAY
A sequence of tones rings out across the city, causing the docks to surge to life with activity. Although, it's a matter of "hurry up and wait" as a queue forms immediately at the large gate.
"Guards won't even look at a piece of paper until it's time," a nearby merchant grumbles, smoking a long pipe.
It's over an hour before the guards even get around to your group. Their questioning (in heavily accented Taldane) is pretty surface-level, and your answers easily pass muster. There's no haste to their actions, though you've seen some groups get through quicker than others, or some get ushered forward while others are held behind.
The guards are well-armoured and well-armed, with polished golden rune-inlaid armour, and gleaming halberds.
You finally emerge from the tunnel through the wall into an eclectic city: bright colours everywhere, every structural facade laden with unnecessary ornamentation and ostentation, yet much of its populace are lean and their finery is threadbare.
Your group's presence is met with distant stares, and whispered mutterings. You've never met a more exclusionary or less-welcoming populace.
Cutting through a wealthy neighbourhood - after yet another checkpoint and perfunctory interrogation - you pass manors that, instead of valuing their privacy and hiding behind towering walls, seek to show off the perfect lives of their rich inhabitants. Huge coloured glass windows frame scenes of performative bliss. Some even vent out the mouth-watering smells of lavish feasts, or the sounds of well-performed music. All vying to impress or astound.
Flitch's Flat is more representative of the city as a whole. The two-story wooden building's once-turquoise paint is flecked and faded. The door has been mended multiple times, and is currently held fast by a shoddy iron padlock. Boards cover the windows. The shattered remains of a clay flowerpot lie beneath one ground-floor window.
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Keep an eye out, eh? And if anyone does look a little too closely a silver in the palm will go a long way. The guards at the dock were clearly... accepting donations and I would expect the rest to be the same.
It takes a moment to find the spot, but once he does Dolan's picks work better than the key itself.
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Illnore seems a bit discomfited by Chiselnit's extended absence. She keeps glancing to the side as if she expects someone to be there. Even so, she tries to keep her focus on seeming to be looking around and appreciating the view.
As she does so, a thought occurs to her. "Oh, by the way: we should find an inn before it's too late, since curfew is serious around here."
Illnore scans the street while Yukathiel and Darius lean by the doorway and obscure the dwarf while he works his special kind of magic. You feel fairly safe - patrols are much less frequent here - and the only bystanders in sight are a pair of scrawny human children who seem more fascinated by Illnore being a halfling than by anything you're doing with the building.
Dolan's expertise shreds the padlock with only a single hitch to re-adjust his picks.
The building's interior is dimly lit by the thin shafts of light peaking between gaps in the boarded windows. A thin layer of dust covers the floor, speckled with the trails - and debris - of small rodents. The second level is mostly collapsed, the stairs a pile of rotten wood, yet the high ceiling does little to make the place feel less stuffy. The windowless wall that backs into the next-door bulding is covered with crude etchings, bright grafitti, and other odd markings.
Illnore and Dolan both notice that - hidden amongst the scribbles and patterns and crude artwork is the name Flitch connected to a series of squiggly lines and text. You trace the lines on the wall to show it to the full group, allowing you all to read and try and figure out what it means.
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After staring at the markings for a bit, Illnore breathes: "Oh my. He's hiding in the sewers." She explains how she came to that conclusion.
Sighing, she remarks: "I'd rather secure a room in an inn before getting all gross in the sewers. It'd probably be harder to get a room if we're covered in stinky muck."
DAY 1 - EARLY AFTERNOON
You emerge from the ruined building back into the heat of the midday sun. The two kids follow you a short ways, keeping their distance but plainly curious at your presence. They get distracted as you near the passage to another city district by the shouts and cries of the guards. You're swept forward to the disturbance by a growing crowd of onlookers.
The Emerald Guard has detained an Osiriani merchant and her retinue, proclaiming them "PURVEYORS OF ILLICIT MATERIAL", and proceeding to thoroughly unpack and examine everything the merchant and her assistants are carrying. Each item is catalogued, passed to pair of guardsmen who seem to be examining for magical auras, then tossed into a pile. After almost an hour of this they finally accept the merchant's explanation (or their coinage) and the slow flow of people from one district to another resumes.
With some back-and-forth and a few unwilling locals questioned, you eventually locate The Rockfish Inn.
It's a two-story building of sturdy stone - squat in comparison to the surrounding tenements - with a meticulously thatched roof that gives off a homely, rustic impression further reinforced by the hand-carved wooden sign with the inn's name in silver inlay.
A scribbled sign on the door reads CLOSED DUE TO ILLNESS. You knock anyways, and - hearing movement - continue until the door cracks open a slight. A middle-aged dwarf with a bright orange beard and thick-rimmed spectacles peers through. He mutters "You ain't the guards," and pulls the door open wider. "Where are you from, and what do you want? Name's Yuleg, and the inn's closed; my daughter Vurna - bit of a scallywag, though she's as dear to me as fire is to wood - she's come down with some fierce sickness so I've my hands full trying to look after her."
He peers at you more closely, both through the spectacles then over them as if it makes a difference. "Say, I've a friend - well, not so much a friend but a business acquaintance - who's a little reticent in keeping his appointments, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"
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With sincere concern, Illnore responds: "Oh, we're so sorry your daughter is ill. Maybe we can do something to help you take care of her, in exchange for your time. You see, we recently met with a business acquaintance of ours who mentioned not being able to keep an appointment with you, and recommended that we stop by to chat about it." She finishes with a simple, homey smile.
Yuleg brightens at the prospect of medical assistance for your daughter, and he ushers you inside, quickly shutting the heavy door behind you. "My friends say I am to trusting for this city - part of why I want to leave - but if someone says they are here to help and means it then I have no option but to take them at their word."
Inside is pleasant, though a little bare. The hearth sits empty and soot-stained, the bar barren of bottles or containers, and no delicious smells emenate from the small kitchen. "Apologies that I cannot be the fine host of past times; I have been peddling off what I can in order to make the amount for payment. Can't sell the building either: too suspicious. Though it will be a shame to leave it, my mother - thousands of years dead rest her - hewed these stones with her very hands. I can offer room and rest, and..." he peers around the corner into the kitchen. "Six barrels of pickled fish. No-one would take them."
He leads you upstairs into one of the inn's rooms. A young, female dwarf - obviously his daughter from the familial resemblence of brilliant orange hair - lies still on the sweat-stained bed. Her left arm is a blaze of infection streaming up from her bandaged forearm. She grunts and rolls slightly in half-sleep. Yuleg looks at her with a mixture of worry and terror.
"She cannot travel like this, especially if we must depart by this Shard Cove she mentioned. She has been trying to find it ever since Guaril introduced her to that roguish gentleman Flitch - not a trustworthy name or face on that one - delving into the sewers each night. A few nights ago she returned with this nasty rat-bite, and it has been fever since then."
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Darius nods at the group's diagnosis, "Sounds like a plan. We return here tonight and we will help treat your daughter. Until then, we should have time to head to the sewers and meet this Flitch today yet?"
Later when the group is away from the innkeeper, he asks the group "I don't have the spare gold, but if we head by the marketplace, would picking up an antiplague vial help the lass? I can contribute some little gold I have."
DAY 1 - MID-AFTERNOON
Yuleg strokes his beard, listening to you debate your next course of action. He butts in: "There's a small local market, not two streets away. Vendor's stall is The Worse It Tastes The Better It Is For You. Foulest remedies this side of the Inner Sea, but I'm sure he's got something like what you're looking for." He gives you some extra directions for tracking to the sewer entrance you need. "I'll see if I can rummage up somethin' for dinner that ain't just pickled fish."
You set off into the streets, around the two bends to a small square overhung by terraced tenaments. Hanging gardens offer a greener look to this square, and provide a fresh smell that offsets the usual city odours.
It's easy to locate the aforementioned stall - there's an acrid scent that cuts through the pleasant smells - and you find some vials of antiplague that must be on the more palatable-tasting side due to their lower price.
Trekking across city once more, you fall into a stop-start routine of waiting for Emerald Guard patrols to check your documents, having to stand by while some palaquin or another takes up an entire road with its retinue, and general lack of energy from any of the local populace to get somewhere in a hurry.
Finally the sewer grate lies before you. Dolan and Yakuthiel haul it aside while Illnore and Darius keep watch. The grate is surprisingly well-oiled and moves easily. You stand around it innocently as a carriage passes by, before ducking through and into the dark, dank corridors. There are hanging gardens here, but of some kind of pernicious sewer-weed, and it isn't nearly as well-smelling as the ones you viewed so recently.
More grafitti and drawings grace the walls here, very similar in style to those at Flitch's flat, and due to the familiarity you can easily pick out the same signed name, as well as a similar looping path. This one is more convoluted, and with no landmarks to guide you will be more difficult to follow.
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Once they're out of sight of the opening, Illore perks up. "Oh hey! I can summon Chiselnits! Come on out, buddy!" As she summons him, a glowing sigil depicting three teardrop-shaped loops with their points meeting in the middle, evenly spaced in a triangular shape, with sharp spikes jutting outward between them from the center appears, floating over her forehead. Once Chislenits appears, she gives him a hug and says: "Let's go find Flitch!"
Staring up at the looping path, Illnore furrows her brow and tries really hard to memorize it. "Okay. Let's see..."