The City of Absalom is abuzz with excitement. The streets are full of revelers and feasting, as residents celebrate the city’s independence from tyranny. All seem most eager to witness the evening’s biggest event, the annual Passion of the First Siege of Absalom, where hundreds dress in elaborate costume, don fake armor and weaponry, and crowd the Irorium floor to participate in a mock combat, reenacting the first siege of Absalom. I suggest you do what you need to prepare yourselves and then get to the Irorium to find yourselves some seats.
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Amidst the vibrant chaos of the City of Absalom, Bella strolled along, a petite figure with shoulder-length, straight brown hair that shimmered in the festival lights. Her light brown eyes held an air of quiet curiosity as they wandered over the bustling streets. This unassuming human cleric of Desna, hailing from Varisia, was far from the center of attention, yet she was here for a purpose beyond mere revelry.
As Bella strolled through the festivities, she couldn't resist the temptation of a pastry cart adorned with an array of delectable treats. She looked over the tempting display before she settled on a blueberry torte. The sweetness of the dessert mingled with the flavors of the festival, offering her a moment of simple delight.
While savoring her treat, Bella couldn't help but wonder if she might chance upon fellow members of the Pathfinder Society amidst the revelry. Her heart swelled with the hope of encountering kindred spirits who shared her passion for discovery and adventure. Amidst the throngs of celebrants, she remained open to the possibility that this evening's festivities might lead to unexpected encounters and new chapters in her quest for enlightenment.
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An elderly scholar makes his way through the crowds, pausing often for a breath, or to take in the sights.
"It is so refreshing to see the masses take an active interest in history. Even if it is only once a year." he mutters to himself as he stands in front of a varisian dancing troupe. The elderly man for a moment looks simply old as he does his (very credible) best to join in one of their numbers. "Why... it makes me feel fifty all over again."
Walking stick in hand, the scholar, for his robes clearly indicate his profession, makes his way toward the Irorium. A close look at him might reveal that he too has joined in the festivities, wearing what looks like perhaps a fake chain shirt under his outer robes. However surely if it were a real shirt, it would be far too heavy for his elderly frame to move so easily in.
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A doll sized gnome comes riding in on an impressively sized riding dog. He easily guides the fawn coloured hound through the crowd and towards Belladonna and Khellek.
"Ha, only you Khellek would think that these people give a whit about their history. They are here for the festivities of course."
"Hopefully this adventure will be as profitable as our visit to the dwarvern stronghold."
He looks over at Bella with a broad smile.
"Hi, I am Sylvester and this is Khellek."
Shaggy looks up at the two. He barks a hello to the bard recognising him immediately. He eyes the woman's pastry but he is too well trained to beg for it in public.
"Woof!"
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"Oh! Hello, Sylvester." Bella says with a warm smile after swallowing the last bit of torte. She stands and offers a hand to shake in greeting.
"I'm Bella. My, that's a cute puppers you have there."
Without thinking about the blueberry sauce and crumbs on her fingers, she reaches down to give the pup a rub behind an ear, then allows Shaggy to lick her fingers clean.
"Oh! Haha!” she giggles. "I see he likes pastries."
She then turns to the elderly gentleman who was (attempting at?) getting his groove on to the Varisian music.
"Good day, Khellek. I was watching you... uhh..." Bella quickly tries to think of what he was trying to do as the old gentleman wobbled his hips, swung his arms erratically, and hummed out of tune...
"Dance!" she blurts with a friendly grin.
"Are you all on your way to the Irorium for the 'Passion'? If so, we better get there for some good seats. I don't have a costume, but was thinking of getting a mask in the style of the First Guard before we get there."
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"There is no question of that being a dance. It was a fine rendition of the Ghawazee, a traditional dance of Varisia." he replies slightly stuffily. "It is not too hard for most to perform.."
He proceeds to demonstrate... although at potential high risk to aged knees and hips.
"Ahh, a mask of the First Guard..." he nods approvingly before turning with a start as Shaggy noses into one of his copious pockets looking for a treat. "Arghhhhhhh No... no you overgrown Chihuahua... I had no treats last time, I have no treats now, there will be no treat..." he starts, before realising that perhaps he had left a sandwich there which Shaggy was quickly wolfing down.
"I thought it was one of my students playing a prank and taking my lunch yesterday.." he sighs.
"Old age.... but speaking of old ages... we must make haste if we are to see the Passion! You are quite right ms Bella. Quite right indeed."
He looks around. "Perhaps we could get a carriage?"
It is at this point that a lean-faced man, his features hidden by a long cowl, slips alongside you. “A moment of your time,” he says and motions you aside, into the shadows of a nearby alley. “It seems we have two things in common, an eagerness to participate in good celebration, and this…” He punctuates his sentence by holding out an elaborately carved wayfinder, the type only granted to Pathfinders of great importance. “I assure you, it's mine,” he adds quickly, closing the device and tucking it back into the folds of his cloak with a quick, easy motion. Then he continues, “I know a good number of you are already planning to attend the festivities this evening. I need but a casual favor. An old associate of mine, Charvion Eater-of–Bones, is set to make an elaborate display of some artifact he claims to have recovered. I’ve not had contact with him in a year or so, and I’ve a curious feeling about the event. More I cannot say; however, I’d appreciate you keeping an eye on whatever stunt he’s considering. He’s a natural charlatan that one. Just keep an eye out is all—nothing serious. Don’t let him know that you’re watching, and do not approach the artifact during the showing. Most importantly, tell no one of this conversation.”
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Khellek takes off his glasses, polishes them, puts them back on and looks carefully at the lean-faced man in the cowl. "Why would we not tell anyone" he asks.
"And after we have observed his, ahh, 'stunt'.. what are we to do? Is there a reason you cannot watch yourself? There are to be thousands in the arena..."
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"EEEK!"
Startled by the sudden appearance of the stranger and fearing for her and her new friends' safety, before he can speak, Bella snaps her fingers and shouts, "Deluge!"
She summons nearly half a big barrel of water to dump down onto the interloper, completely drenching the man in an attempt to distract him.
Although you can't quite make out his features in the cowl, something in his voice indicates that he's smiling. "You're reputed to be a clever fellow, and I expect if you put your mind to it you can figure out why I might ask you not to tell anyone. I'll be watching him, too, but a few more sets of eyes wouldn't hurt. And as for what comes next...well, if I'm wrong about Charvion, nothing will come of it. Otherwise, I'm sure you'll show the adaptability and initiative I've come to expect of the best Pathfinders." His lighthearted tone disappears as he continues. "If I knew anything of his plans, I would tell you. I suspect he has plans, though, and they may not be consistent with the survival of the organization we've all given so much to."
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"I have met Deluge" says the scholar, dryly. "And that is not he."
The scholar squints at not-Deluge. "So... is there something in particular you would have us be watching for? Is he going to be at the Passion this evening? How are we to recognise him?"
The perceptive around may have noticed the elderly scholar puff his chest out a little when not-Deluge refers to him as being a clever fellow. "Might this finally get me my cover on the Chronicles?"
Shaggy wags his tail contently at all the treats he has been able to snag today. A more stern master would surely reprimand him but he knows that Sylvester will not do so today or ever.
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Sylvester snorts at Bella's aquatic attempt at self-defence.
"Ha, you startle easily but at least when you are wrong people only need to dry off."
In a quieter voice the sorcerer continues with more of a personal monologue stated out loud.
"Personally, I like to lead with a big ball of fire..."
The little gnome shrugs at the stranger's request.
"I can keep an eye on this man. Khellek might know everything but he is as blind as a bat. With the gold dragon's blood pumping in my veins I will easily see if he is up to anything nefarious."
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As the crowd become denser a small figure, all in black stands out. It's a petite woman in simple black dress, who highlights her silhouette, a black and red belt with a devil's head that seems to looks at you girdling her dress... She had pale complexion but her charming smile and her simple green make-up make her immediately friendly despite. At her side, a short sword and several wands.
Around her neck a strange pendant with ancient osiriani designs. The tip of her fingers are lightly blackened by ink, as if she have passed several time in libraries, copying or scribing books.
Too much happiness and joy... this is an omen for a disaster to come
As she strides through the crowd, indifferent to the happiness around her, she seems to recognize Khellec.
Khellek! Hi! How good to see you again. It's been a long time since our last mission together. This time, we meet in a less scary and depressive place! she says recognizing the old professor before adding in a dark and somber tone Even if it's only the prelude of a future disaster.
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Severely embarrassed, Bella grabs a lower corner of the stranger's cloak and wrings the water out with her hands.
"Oh. Dear me. I'm so sorry, good sir."
She offers an apologetic smile as she wrings out the man's cloak, hoping to not be subject to the stranger's wrath.
"Hello, Jair. Nice to meet you." Bella greets the newcomer with an embarrassed smile.
Bella then looks back up at the stranger.
"I'm Bella. And who are you?"
"I can assure you, we will be sure to keep an eye on Charvion."
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The man sidesteps part of the sudden downpour, but still ends up rather sodden. He bows his head, one hand over his face, and shakes. It takes a moment to realize that he's suppressing laughter. "We never cease to amaze, do we? Just...watch. He'll be obvious." With that, he retreats further into the alley and around a corner, where the squishing noise of his footsteps stops and is replaced by the sound of wings.
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Khellek smiles as another of his former students recognises him "Ahh... ms..." he quints through his glasses. "Ms Whisper. Yes... this is much nicer than than pain filled cairn of shadows. Though in my bones I feel that perhaps shadows yet linger.."
He takes in the students around him, shakes his head and says "This is turning into a rather unexpected field trip. "
Running his hand through his hair he does confess "Though with Ms Belladonna and Ms Whisper, at least for once I will not be the one carrying the first aid kit. For some reasons students these days seem to be so careless."
Then, taking charge as only an elderly scholar can, he directs "On to the Irorium or we will not get good seats. And if anyone sees a carriage.... hail it."
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"Oh, dear! I just remembered! I need to get a handy haversack. I keep forgetting to get one."
Bella stands on her toes to look over the throngs of revelers and see if there's a magic shop nearby.
"Ah-ha! There's one. I'm going to head to Ye Olde Magik Shoppe over there. Be right back."
Returning quickly, she transfers all of her stuff from her backpack and stuffs it into the haversack. She tosses her old, hole-riddled backpack in a nearby trash bin.
"There. All set." she says happily.
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Silgil, though dressed more like a mage than a warrior, does carry himself like a warrior, a tribute to his days in the dwarven militia. He sports red unruly hair, almost gnome-like, but covering most of his face as well as head. He walks with the confidence natural to dwarves and a bit of a swagger.
"We need to take this seriously," he says in his most serious dwarven boulder voice. Almost as soon as the fellow is drenched, Silgil snaps his fingers and his outfit is immaculate.
"I think we should get front seats for the event to better take control if things get out of hand."
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Bella greets the dwarven newcomer, this time in a more relaxed demeanor after the create water incident.
"Welcome, mister dwarf. I am Bella. And you are?...
It's a pleasure to meet you, Silgil. It would also be a pleasure for you to join us. We're also on our way to get good seats at the Irorium before it fills up."
Shaking the dwarf's hand, her eyes go wide at the sight of his exquisite jewelry.
"My goodness, sir. That is some fabulous jewelry you are wearing. I'm a travelling merchant, and luckily, the Society sends me to all corners of the world. Perhaps we could discuss doing business together after the show."
A carriage, alas, is not forthcoming. At least the tickets the Society provided you get you access to some better seats in the Irorium.
Main Gate: The main gates face north. On the mezzanine level, a 20-foot-wide stone arch opens onto an equally wide marble stairwell that descends out onto the street. The stairwell corridor is 300 feet long. At street level, the corridor can be barricaded with a pair of barred iron gates.
Side Gates: There are four side exits, all connected to the mezzanine level. Each exit leads through a 20-footwide stone arch that opens to an equally wide marble stairwell, which in turn descends out onto the street. On the mezzanine level, the stairwell corridor is 300 feet long. The upper level stairwells are 500 feet long. At the street level, the corridor can be barricaded with a pair of barred iron gates.
Service Exit: The service exit is located on the arena floor, just behind the makeshift stage. Only Irorium workers and performers are permitted to use it; anyone attempting to pass through the doors without permits is denied. All would-be trespassers are sent off by a platoon of surly guards. Beyond the entrance, a main passage connects to side chambers used by gladiators and arena workers. All creatures, gladiators, workers, and others involved with events use this route to gain access to the arena floor.
2. The Mezzanine: This level sits just above the field seats, though it is entirely separated from them. The mezzanine has a slight overhang that extends over the last two rows of field seats. These seats are open to the general public; however, they cost a couple of gold pieces apiece (depending upon the event), and thus their occupants tend to be middle and upper class citizens. The mezzanine is the central hub of the Irorium, providing access to all other levels as well as the most of the exits. It connects to five of the Irorium’s exits: the main gate and the four side exits. From the mezzanine, several sets of stairs climb to the upper levels as well as descend to the field seats.
3. Terrace: The Terrace consists entirely of open-air stone bleachers carved into the structure of the Irorium. The view of the field is still good enough to observe events. A terrace seat usually costs a few silvers. Stairs from the mezzanine provide access to the terrace.
4. Grandstands: This level consists of rickety wooden bleachers. Seats cost a few coppers, or are sometimes free, depending on the event. Stairs from the Terrace provide access to the grandstands
5. The Ledge: The top level of the Irorium is a broad, 15-foot-wide railed ledge that encircles the entire arena. It is so far away from the arena floor that it provides only a pitiful view of events below. Stairs from the grandstands provide access to the ledge.
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Sylvester nods at Silgil's words although he does not personally have any spells he can cast that can spy on people.
"I will keep both of my eyes on this person as well. Dragon blood versus spell casting. We will see what will reveal more."
The gnome will stay seated on his dog at the end of one of the benches.
"We should stay close together in case something interesting happens."
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As Jair disappears, a muscular stout half-orc with a big scar on his face and an old ugly mark making him the property of an Okeno slaver stands next to where she was.
He wears simple clothing, robe, sandals, and except for his headband with the symbol of Abadar and a big great axe on his back, nothing of valor.
At his side, several wands and a, very, big book.
In a grumpy voice he says Greetings. name Ibaz
Bella peers around the corner where the man retreated. The rest of the alley is empty, of course. However, where his footprints ended there's a small piece of paper with a single word written on it: "Osprey."
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"Indeed. We have been forewarned about potential malevolent activities. Our instructions are to keep an eye on him and be prepared for mischief. It seems prudent to enhance ourselves magically. You look like you could use a mage armor spell," he suggests, pointing at the ugly monk.
Silgil casts an extended mage armor on himself and the unarmored monk Ibaz and casts an extended False Life on himself too.
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Sylvester looks at Silgil shaking his head.
"Do you always cast defensive spells on yourself in the middle of peaceful celebrations?"
While not necessarily logical past experience has shown such activities to be prudent. Shrugging Sylvester continues.
"Still weird things do always happen whenever we (Pathfinders) go anywhere."
Mage Armor is cast on self (6 hour duration).
"Do you always cast defensive spells on yourself in the middle of peaceful celebrations?"
"Welcome to Absalom!" The MC's voice, magically enhanced, booms throughout the arena. "On this glorious eve we gather again in celebration of our wonderful city and its freedom from tyranny. We present to you all—the Passion of the First Siege of Absalom! A performance great and terrible, reenacting Absalom’s victorious slaughter of Warlord Voradni Voon’s troops upon the city’s rocky shores. As the highlight of this year's performance, directly following the Passion, the Pathfinder Society has generously agreed to a public unveiling of its latest acquisition, a terrifying device dredged from ancient ruins in the Mwangi Expanse. And now, ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The performance is about to begin."
The Passion is long, tediously so, though the rowdy crowds more than entertain themselves, booing and cheering the performers and throwing rotten cabbages. In all, it turns out to be a fine afternoon of celebration.
Following the performance, a large stage is wheeled in to the west side of the Irorium. The stage is covered with a large curtain. Beneath is a scaled set of a ruin and in the center stands a bizarre, cage-like structure of weathered metal covered with strange runes and other ornate etchings. A man who fits the description of the Pathfinder known as Charvion Eater-of-Bones stands next to the cage.
"Good evening, friends! On this auspicious night I present to you an incredible spectacle, the type of which you have never seen before. From the darkest jungles of Mwangi, I have procured an ancient device, an artifact capable of ripping through the very cloth of our reality!"
Charvion touches something on the cage, and it falls open, slowly unfolding like a blossoming flower. He steps inside, and the cage begins to close around him, crackling with swirling tendrils of mystic, silvery ether. In an ominous and unearthly voice he bellows, "I am now fused to the ethereal plane—the realm of ghosts! Ask me what you will, and the dead shall answer through me! But be wary of what you seek, for you may not like the answers."
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Though he has no interest in the opinions of the dead, he listens curiously to what others ask and, of course, the responses.
Silgil casts his clairvoyance/clairaudience spell to get a front row view. Well, more like a back row view as he sets his spell up to be to the side and somewhat behind the act, alternately closing his eyes and using the spell and opening them to see what everyone else is seeing.
Note: This is not a long spell and only lasts 7 minutes so it may very well expire before something happens. In addition, the dang thing takes 10 minutes to cast so unless something happens in the 10-17 minute window the exercise is pointless. When/if he finishes casting he vows under his breath
"If anything happens, I'll be ready."
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Khellek more or less enjoys the afternoon of the play. That doesn't stop him pointing out historical inaccuracies... by the dozen. But seeing so many hundreds of people enthusiastically engaging in history touches the elderly scholar in an unusual way.
When the device is wheeled out, he takes of his glasses to polish them again. "This must be what Osprey was talking about. Oh... it unfolds. How interesting. But connecting to the ethereal realm in such a large crowd.. oh my, this could go *quite* wrong."
He calls out in a loud voice. "What happened to the soul of Voradni Voon’s ?"
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"I am now fused to the ethereal plane—the realm of ghosts! Ask me what you will, and the dead shall answer through me! But be wary of what you seek, for you may not like the answers."
Bella thinks hard for a moment about what she should ask. Thinking of a question, she calls out to Charvion,
"Will I ever find true love with another person!?!"She glances about, somewhat embarrassed.
"I'm sure I'm not going to be the only one seeking an answer to that question." she reassures herself.