Chapter 1: Shards of Sin
Part 1: A Game Afoot in Magnimar
For much of the past millenia, the entire legacy of the empire of Thassilon remained an obscure footnote in the history texts. Even in recent years, as southern nations began to colonize Varisia, the monolithic remnants of Thassilon remained more a curiosity than a true source of scholastic pursuit. As the Pathfinder Society grew more and more interested in the region, though, Varisia’s reputation for hidden mysteries and Thassilon’s seductive call to investigation grew, but it took the near rise of one of the seven runelords, Karzoug the Claimer, to truly bring Thassilon’s legacy to full light.
With Karzoug’s defeat at the hands of resourceful adventurers, Varisia narrowly avoided a true disaster. Had Karzoug managed to rebuild his forces in Xin-Shalast, armies of giants, lamia-kin, dragons, and ancient wizards would have quickly conquered Varisia. His near return was a wake-up call. The threat of one runelord rising from slumber was bad enough, but six more remained hidden in secret places. Varisia’s numerous contentious factions and governments see that this is one peril they all share in common, and a race to prepare for the rising of another runelord (or, perish the thought, the rising of all six) has been quietly growing—and chief among those who seek to prepare Varisia for such an event is a single woman...
Greetings, fellow seeker of adventure!
I am Sheila Heidmarch, Venture Captain of the newest Pathfinder Society lodge—and the only such lodge in Varisia at this time. You have come to my attention as someone who possesses a certain amount of skills and interests that make you an excellent addition to a highly specialized team I’m putting together for a matter of grave import, not only to the Society, but to Varisia as a whole. Please report an hour before noon to Heidmarch Manor—you will be compensated for your visit, but that reward will pale in light of the riches that await you should we come to an agreement on my proposition to you. I look forward to meeting you soon!
—Sheila Heidmarch
Each of you received this brief but compelling invitation this morning. As the city of Magnimar wakes for the day, you prepare to head to the lodge and find out just what the Venture Captain has in mind for you...
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Isabel bounces and has to restrain a loud squeal when she receives her letter. Finally! This is the mission I've been waiting for! She does a little dance in her small kitchen and then breaks the seal on the letter addressed to Lottie too, unable to resist finding out if her friend has also been asked to come in to meet Venture Captain Heidmarch.
This is perfect! It'll be so exciting! We're going to be such a great team! Excitement makes Isabel want to rush off immediately to get all her gear together but its still to early in the morning for that and she has a guest to feed, so she retrains her excitement as best she can and sets about making breakfast instead. Thankfully she has a housekeeper/cook who deals with most of the meal preparations but breakfast is one meal that Isabel has taken to and can now prepare reasonably well for herself - and bacon is absolutely worth the effort!
By the time Lottie comes downstairs there is sliced bread, butter, and tea on the table, as well as frying bacon and a merrily humming Isabel flitting around the kitchen.
"Good morning Sleepy Head!" She says with a grin when Lottie sits down. "We've got letters from Venture Heidmarch! It looks like we're finally getting our first Pathfinder mission! Isn't that great?!"
A disheveled and purple eyed young woman comes down the stairs. Charlotte, as a new medic, got the night shifts, so she was not used to this Daylight thing.
The smell hits her before the words, making her blink in surprise as she looks over the feast. "You... know how to cook? When did this happen, miss that is what servants are for?" she was still getting used to the newness of her friend. The changes were something, truly something, but the physical was only a tiny part.
The thoughts made her remember. Her hands reached into the pocket of the coat she had thrown on over her night clothes, pulling out her dark glasses that she slipped over her eyes. The unnatural purple made her self conscious. Her own changes were much more troubling that Bel's.
"I can't believe she is sending me a letter when I barely have had any training as a Finder." she sighed, slipping her rump into a chair and reaching for the letter, even before the bacon.
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"It's because she knows about your skills!" Isabel replies, sliding bacon from the pan and onto a plate. "You're a Lastwall Veteran Lottie and that means something to people who understand, and the cooking is a recent thing." She admits, turning the conversation from topics she knows are painful. "Mrs Hudson taught me the basics, enough for breakfast at least. She said I shouldn't be 'wasting my money' on pastries every day. I can't cook an actual meal yet but she's really good so why would I want to?"
She sweeps up a piece of buttered bread, deposits three rashers on it and slaps another piece on the top. "They call this a 'butty'." She explains, already making a second for herself. "Try it - it's amazing!"
As always Charlotte gets lost in her friend, she was always like a flowing river, easily sweeping the more pragmatic girl along. Wonderfully so.
"Okay, but then I am getting ready." she accepts the butty and bites cautiously, then glows in flavors. "MmmMmm" she nods her agreement of the amazement, stuffs the delicious thing in her mouth and then rushes upstairs before she is filled with more of Bel's concoctions.
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Isabel finishes her own bacon with quiet moan of pleasure and then gets her own gear together - a process which takes quite some time. Finally though the two young women are ready to go and make the short walk together from Isabel's small house to the Pathfinder Lodge.
"Good morning," Isabel greets the front-of-house staff with a wide smile. "We have a meeting with the Venture Captain."
"How unusual," a voice comments. It's smooth and filled with flavors of elvish. It's also filled with barely concealed contempt. "Humans who arrive on time."
Approaching the duo is an elf. She's wearing the finery of a noble. Her hair is styled in the latest fashion and held back with a platinum pin with a visible crest on it.
"Mademoiselle Westagho," she says, presenting her own letter to the staff and letting her gaze drift over the two others before returning her attention to the gatekeeper of her fate.
Trailing just a short ways behind the two human women is a young man with short, brown hair. He wears fine green robes trimmed in gold, and clutches a large spellbook under his arm. Catching the elf's less-than-kind words, he frowns.
"Mademoiselle, I can assume you have had unpleasant interactions with humans in the past. I do hope you'd be willing to give us the benefit of the doubt and not judge us before even knowing us," he says in Elven. "I've had plenty of that already my entire life. Thank you."
He nods to Fallende before turning to the other women. "Wesley Vancaskerkin. Charmed." He then presents his invitation to the lodge staff.
Heidmarch Manor is located in the Alabaster District of Magnimar, not far from the city’s easternmost gate. The manor grounds are surrounded by a stone wall, but the front gate hangs open during the day—visitors are always welcome to the manor, which has recently come to double as the first Pathfinder Lodge in Varisia.
The staff at the gates ask you to wait in the foyer, as Sheila Heidmarch is finishing up a meeting with an unexpected visitor. You only need to wait a few minutes before two women step into the room.
The first is Sheila Heidmarch herself. She looks you all over before giving an approving nod. "Thank you all for answering my summons," she says in an unusually deep voice. "May I introduce Koriah Azmeren?"
The second woman steps forward--an attractive half-elven woman dressed in leather armor and armed with a distinctive-looking mithral-and-redwood aklys (a hooked club attached to a cord) and a bastard sword (both weapons are currently sheathed or hanging from her belt). "A pleasure to make your acquaintances," Koriah says.
"Koriah has just returned from an expedition to the Darklands below Varisia, having successfully scouted out a new route down to Nar-Voth from the Fogscar Mountains. She has returned with a surprising number of Thassilonian artifacts from this expedition, and I must spend just a few more moments discussing the implications of this discovery with her. I apologize for the further delay."
Sheila pauses for a moment as if in thought. "Actually, would you accompany me?"
She leads you and Koriah into an adjoining room. This chamber is the lodge library and study. The walls are lined with bookshelves, while several tables in the middle of the room are heaped with scrolls and books. One table in the center, however, supports only a single object—an ornate cubical stone coffer covered with Thassilonian runes. Sheila asks for you to have a seat around the table as she speaks to you.
"I again apologize for the delay, as I must conclude my business with Pathfinder Azmeren before we meet. In the meantime, though, I thought you could help us with another minor issue. This stone coffer is an ancient Thassilonian puzzle, a cunning feat of magical engineering known as a paradox box. As you’ll see from even a casual investigation, what appear to be seams on the sides are only shallow grooves—there’s no obvious way to open the thing. Each paradox box has its own secret method of being opened. Essentially, a paradox box substitutes hidden catches and magical triggers for a lock. Given time, anyone clever enough could figure out how to open a paradox box, just as given time, a locksmith can open any lock. This particular box was among those items recovered by Koriah—the scrolls next to the box are her preliminary notes on possible triggers or methods of opening it, but she’s not yet had a chance to sit down and properly investigate the thing. So... why don’t you put your heads together and see if you can’t do that for me? Even if the box is empty, as I suspect it probably is, knowing the method of opening it makes it a valuable find anyway. I’ll return shortly, and I hope to see that box open! Think of this as an audition, if you will—because the actual task I want to speak to you about soon will require as much wit as it will brawn!”
Sheila nods, then she and Koriah depart, leaving you with the box and the notes. The scroll lists translations of the significant runes on the box—one of the most oft-repeated symbols was the rune for “wrath,” which Koriah also notes is associated with evocation magic, and in the earliest days of Thassilon with the word “kindness.” Her notes indicate that this rune merely marks the box has having once belonged to a citizen of the Thassilonian nation of Bakrakhan, and that the rune likely has little to do with the method of opening this particular paradox box.
Another of Koriah’s scrolls lists a few other key observations—the key observation being that five of the box’s faces are identical, but on one face, several additional runes appear. These runes spell out the word “CRUEL.” Koriah has deduced that this word is somehow linked to the box’s mystery. She’s also noted that each of the individual runes in the word can be reorganized by touching two runes at once—doing so causes the two touched runes to exchange places for an hour before reverting to their original spelling of “CRUEL.”
Charlotte ignores the rude elf, choosing the higher ground there. She is a little put out when she finds out she has a letter too. An inward groan that stretches a mile or so.
"Charlotte Plumth" the young woman introduces herself to the one that actually introduces themselves. She grasps the sides of her coal black coat with white trim and dips into a practiced curtsy. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Wesley"
At the audience, she hovers near Bel. At one of her friend's suggestion she sits on the arm of her chair and comments "Cluer? Someone that gives out a clue? That cannot be it."
"Obviously the box was designed to hide money," Fallende says with a roll of her eyes. "Said money no doubt obtained through nefarious means and meant not to be found. Do you not even know your own language?"
With complete confidence she slides the runes on the box to form the word 'lucre' and gestures her hand over the box, fully expecting it to open.
Isabel recals that paradox boxes were especially popular in Thassilon for their relative inexpensiveness as well as their superior security and durability. Many Thassilonian creators, burdened with arrogance and hubris, constructed their paradox boxes such that their surfaces were decorated with elaborate and carefully constructed riddles or wordplays that gave clues to their command words.
When Fallende arranges the runes to spell 'LUCRE,' the box glows briefly before opening up. Unfortunately, two tiny dog-faced gremlins immediately spring out of the box! They cackle as they look around the room, ready to cause chaos!
The gremlins move in opposite directions. One begins to rip up the scrolls containing Koriah's notes. The other one slashes at the books on one of the shelves!
"Ah! What did you do?" Wesley grumbles. He steps back, stubbing his toe on the chair as the unluck aura affects him. He casts a spell, causing electricity to arc between the two gremlins.
Charlotte's mind feels the settling of unluck on her person and simply says No. As her friend moves to attack the creature with a sword, the doctor considers the danger level, then wisely decides not to fling fire in a book filled room.
Instead she draws the hard wooden baton from her side and moves to support her.
Having not arrived at her meeting with arms and armor, Fallende pulls a dagger from within her elegant coat (to her annoyance, slicing a seam in the process) and slashes at the creature on the desk.
Fallende and Charlotte fumble about, the gremlins easily dodging their attacks. Isabel delivers a telling blow, however, then Wesley's electricity takes down the first of the foes! The other one nimbly evades the lightning, though.
Chattering angrily, the gremlin leaps at Isabel, slashing with its sword!
Fallende's temper grows as her dagger fails to strike true amid her stumbling about with the furniture. She does manage to draw blood once, though.
Wesley creates another burst of lightning, zapping the remaining gremlin!
Fallende lands a hit, leaving the creature badly hurt...
The gremlin falls! A few moments later, both bodies disappear in a puff of smoke, indicating that the creatures were summoned.
Looking inside the box, you can see it is mostly empty—it contains three garnets worth 5 gp each and a jade cat talisman.
After a few more seconds pass, Sheila Heidmarch and Koriah Azmeren burst into the room, drawn by the sounds of the battle. "What happened?" Sheila asks.
Fallende pulls an embroidered handkerchief from an inner pocket and wipes her dagger on it before slipping the blade back into its belt sheath. The cloth she folds and sets on the desk.
"Very good. It's reassuring to discover that you all aren't completely helpless," she says, looking over the others.
She turns to their hostess.
"The box contained a pair of gremlins in addition to the few trinkets that were stored there. We've dealt with them."
Despite Sheila's apparent anger, it quickly becomes clear that she's angry at herself for leaving a possible dangerous item unattended. She nods at your explanation. "Well done. I'm quite pleased, actually, that you were to not only open the box, but also dispatch the gremlins."
She turns back to Koriah to bid her farewell. The half-elf bows to you as she leaves and wishes you luck in your endeavors. Once Koriah has left, Sheila asks you to take your seats again.
"First, allow me to apologize for that unpleasantness regarding the gremlins—but it does provide an excellent object lesson. The life of an adventurer is not one for the weak-hearted. That you not only took care of the gremlins but also got the box open in the first place is all the confirmation I need that my gut was right—you’re the perfect group for the job I have in mind.
“You see—I’ve recently had trouble with one of my informants here in Magnimar, Natalya Vancaskerkin. I believe you are familiar with her, Wesley?"
Wesley grimaces but nods. "Yes. She is my cousin. Distant cousin," he says.
Sheila inclines her head. "Yes. Well, she recently approached the Pathfinder Society with an offer to serve as a street informant. She runs with the Sczarni—I’m not sure with which group. A week ago, Natalya sent me a cryptic hint that her gang was on the verge of uncovering an item that would be of great interest to the Society. Since the Sczarnis’ methods of uncovering something often involves an armed robbery or breaking into somebody’s personal chambers, we thought it prudent not to press for further details and instead wait to see what it would produce. Suffice it to say, she hinted strongly that it pertained to Thassilon, and promised to meet with me to discuss this find three days ago.
“She never kept that promise—instead, she seems to have simply vanished. Initially, I assumed that the acquisition of this item was simply taking longer than expected, but now I’m hearing rumors that the Sczarni are looking for her as well.
“It seems likely that Natalya has absconded with this item she’s discovered. And this is where you enter, my friends. I want to know what it was that Natalya and the Sczarni found. In fact, I’m more interested in that than in what happened to Natalya herself. For now, I’d like to keep all of this quiet—if you can find out what happened to Natalya without letting a lot of people know she was also working for me as an informant, that would be preferable—that’s a big part of why I’m coming to you, as new members of the Pathfinder Society, with this task. You don’t yet have a reputation in Magnimar, and as such, the lowlifes and criminals you are likely to encounter may be more likely to talk.
“So... go out there and look for Natalya. Find out what happened to her, and to this item she and her gang discovered. If you can secure the item, all the better—bring it back to me and I’ll have a reward of 50 gold pieces for you. And if you can bring Natalya back alive for me to speak to, I’ll double that!”
Charlotte is about to point out that her FRIEND was much more useful than the elf herself, but since Bel seemed to be willing to let it pass, it seemed it prudent to do so as well.
"Is this another test?" the doctor asks, crossing her arms as she does so, exhibiting signs of annoyance. Hunting for a criminal was not what she thought pathfinding would be.
"No test, this time," Sheila says to Charlotte. "But if the item Natalya discovered is promising, there will be follow-up missions for you to undertake!" She turns to Isabel.
"Unfortunately, I don't know much about Natalya," Sheila says regretfully. "One of her conditions for entering this alliance with the Pathfinders was that she wanted to retain a good amount of anonymity and autonomy, so she’d be free to handle things as she saw fit. I now realize that agreeing to these terms may have been a mistake—but until we know more, I'm not willing to write off Natalya as a traitor.
"When she initially approached me with her offer, she engaged the aid of a man known as the Amazing Zograthy, a Varisian who keeps a permanent tent and fortune-telling business in Washers’ Row in Dockway—specifically, at the end of a narrow alley that serves as a permanent street fair. You may want to start your investigation there. There are rumors of Nidalese slavers prowling the streets of late, and if these are true, being abducted by a slaver in the middle of the night would certainly explain Natalya’s absence. She might even have been picked up by the city guard for some reason, in which case a visit to the Arvensoar, the garrison for the city’s watch, might yield some clues. Beyond this, I can offer nothing but wishes for luck."
Wesley turns to the other women present. "I know the Amazing Zograthy. He works as a sort of middle-man between Sczarni and outsiders, in exchange for gold, of course. The Sczarni aren't the most dangerous or powerful of the city’s criminal organizations, but they are the most visible. Washer's Row is primarily a front for one of the larger Sczarni gangs, the Washside Wringers. We'd best stay on our toes if we're headed there."
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"Let's start with the Arvensoar." Isabel suggests. "That shouldn't be dangerous or difficult and we'll eliminate a possibility nice and quickly either way. Then we can move onto Washer's Row?"
She doesn't ask for anyone's permission, but she does look around her new group to get everyone's agreement before setting off.
"And even if your cousin hasn't been picked up by the proper authorities, they might be able to provide information about the other two leads." Charlotte agrees with her friend, as her arms uncross, she brushes out her skirts, and is ready to go, expecting logic and sense to be the deciding factor. An arrogance still carried over from her nobility or as a medic in the field.
"I will meet you at the Arvensoar," Fallende says with a quick dip of her head. "I am not garbed appropriately for such an encounter."
As you traverse the streets of Magnimar, Wesley tells you some more about his cousin, Natalya. Natalya is the daughter of his uncle Saul Vancaskerkin, one of Riddleport's most notorious figures. Half-Varisian, Natalya was born of Saul’s first wife, a Varisian harrower from Magnimar. Unfortunately, her mother was killed shortly after she was born. By the time Saul got to his third wife, Natalya had become fed up with her life in Riddleport, and after a series of incidents leading to Saul disowning her, she returned to Magnimar a few years ago.
"I've only met her a handful of times. She's ambitious and impatient. I'm not surprised she's gotten in over her head," Wesley concludes.
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The Arvensoar looms in the southern part of the city, high above the districts of Lowcleft and Naos. The tower itself is about 400 feet tall, with the lower portion built into the side of the Seacleft that splits the city in half. The watch officers stationed at the Arvensoar have busy schedules, and they inform you it will be several hours until somebody can take the time to meet with you.
Less than five minutes after arriving at the garrison, heavy-booted footsteps announce Fallende's arrival. She's traded her noble's clothes for a suit of well-crafted, but worn chainmail. A mace hangs on her hip and a teardrop-shaped shield rests on her back, next to a long, slightly curved sword. A cloak hangs off one shoulder that's held in place with a silver clasp emblazoned with an elvish crest.
"Why are we waiting outside?" she questions with a frown.
"If it's going to take hours before we're seen, then wouldn't it make sense to visit this 'Amazing Zograthy' in the meantime?"
"I thought we were waiting on Someone" Charlotte admits, letting her eyes graze the elf before she moves forward requesting respectfully to be admitted.
Fortunately, Charlotte's good manners pay off, and soon enough, you find yourselves in a small meeting room with one of the watch officers. "I'm Officer Kasadei," the Varisian woman says with a curt nod. "You've come on a busy day, but I always try my best to make some time for concerned citizens. How may I help you?"
At the nod, Charlotte frowns lightly before turning to the officer. "Thank you for meeting with us, Officer Kasadei. We know your time is precious so we promise to be as quick as possible." she says sincerely. She gestures to the only male with them "Wesley'z cousin, Natalya has gone missing, and we wish to find her before anything untold happens. Unfortunately, she has been known to have issues with authority, so before wasting a significant amount of everyone's time we decided to see if she was a guest here first." Charlotte describes her as best she can.
Fallende raises a carefully groomed eyebrow at Charlotte's prevarication, but doesn't say anything.
"Natalya. Vancaskerkin?" Kasadei asks. Wesley nods. "She is known to the city watch—she’s a petty burglar known to run with the Tower Girls. That Natalya has vanished is news to me—she hasn’t been picked up by any patrols, in any event. I'm not surprised that Natalya’s disappearance hasn’t been reported—the Sczarni tend to try to solve their own problems. If anyone knows more, it’s probably the Tower Girls.
"That could be a problem, though. Tracking down any of the Sczarni gangs is tricky normally, but as far I know, the Tower Girls themselves have recently changed their headquarters. No informants have yet been able to update the city watch as to their new headquarters, but I do know that a few months back, the Tower Girls had a falling out with another Sczarni gang, the Wreckwash Blades. For several weeks after that, rumor was that the Tower Girls were slumming it in an abandoned warehouse in Underbridge that they shared with a disreputable local by the name of Fenster the Blight—he may know where the Tower Girls are located now."
Kasadei can provide directions to the warehouse.
"Thank you, sir." Charlotte says as she rises "Any information we might discover about these gangs during our hunt for Natalya, we will be sure to relay back to you and your men." she offers since his help had been invaluable. She wishes him a good day and heads out with her friend and her new acquaintances.
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"Wesley, since you know more about this area than any of the rest of us..." she assumes, maybe incorrectly that the elf is not a local. "... have you heard of this Fenster? Anyone with the honorific of 'the Blight' seems worrisome."
Wesley grimaces. "Yeah, I've heard plenty about Fenster the Blight. I wish I hadn't. He's about as unsavory as denizens of Underbridge get. Fenster is a truly vile wretch, a carrier of several diseases who hires himself out for any foul job that might come his way. In the past, he’s worked as a garbage scavenger, a goblin baiter, an alchemy test subject, and a disposer of bodies. We'd do best to keep our distance as we talk to him."
Fenster's house is located in Underbridge, the district beneath the massive Thassilonian monument known as the Irespan. He lives in a partially collapsed warehouse on the shoreline, in a particularly filthy stretch where tidal currents often cause the filth and refuse of the city to collect in stinking clots along the shore. The building has a relatively large open area within, but Fenster keeps to one corner. Here, he’s made a sort of crude shelter from rowboats (one or two of which might still be almost seaworthy) and timbers leaning against the warehouse’s frame. The entrance to this hovel consists of a pair of skiffs leaning against each other to create a triangular “arch” from which a moldering remnant of a ship’s sail hangs like a curtain. Sitting next to the entrance is an old sea chest with a broken lid. A sign leans against the front of the chest—“LEEV A GIFT AND WATE OUTSID.” A dented tin platter sits on the ground before the sign.
Wesley knows the procedure. He places five silver coins in the tin platter and steps back. After a minute or so, a hideous man creeps out from the hovel. Fenster is a wretched creature, more skin and bone than meat. His flesh is clammy and gray in places, one of his eyes is clouded over with a white film, and his clothing is caked with filth. His breathing is raspy and gurgling and smells of bad meat—he’s plagued by a wet, hacking cough.
Fenster examines the coins, then pockets them before sitting down on the broken chest. "What ye want Fenster ta'do?" he rasps.
"The Tower Girls? Aye, I know's 'em! I'm their landlord!" Fenster proudly claims. "They's not here now, but they'll be back... they always come back ta ol' Fenster! Now, Natalya, yeah... I know's where she is, and I'll tells ya, cause ye seem like nice folk.
"She don't hang out with the other Tower Girls no more. She's been lurking in a nearby building, trying to hide, methinks. But nuthin' in th’Shadow gits by me good peeper!” he says as he taps the sallow cheek under his non-clouded eye. "Just head east near the wall of the Seacleft." He gives you directions.
"You never told me pathfinding would take us to such auspicious places." Charlotte whisper complained to her friend, as she stepped over what she thought was a dead rat bobbing in a puddle of something even more questionable.
As Bel handed the information dealer, with confident politeness, Charlotte paid more attention to the cough, though listening from a distance made the process of diagnosis harder. And she had NO intention of getting closer.