We will begin on February 10, 2026.
You begin in a tavern! How fitting and nostalgic.
You are all playing cards, incidentally. In the backroom of the Grog Pit in Absalom.
First one to post gets to decide what card game it is. Osprey requested your presence here, but hadn't arrived yet, so you took it upon yourselves to pass the time.
Suddenly the backroom door shuts and the game’s mysterious host appears—the enigmatic Osprey, an agent of the Pathfinder Society with unclear objectives likely known only to the Decemvirate. Two strangers accompany the lean-featured Chelaxian—a tall man wearing dark robes and a black mask that conceals his face, and a grizzled, prune-skinned gnome, with a slight facial palsy. With his typically cordial but informal manner, Osprey requests everyone be seated, and offers all a mug of Absalom’s worst grog.
“My fellow Pathfinders, I appreciate you making yourselves available on such short notice. I trust the accommodations here are sour enough to keep others from our business. As usual, I prefer to get right to the point.”
Osprey slams a large sack down on the table, a high-pitched yelp bursting from within the bundle as he does so. He quickly reaches into the sack and drags out a tiny pestilent-looking creature by the throat. He beats its head against the table a few more times, and yells, “Settle down before I get careless and snap your damn neck!” Then he pins it down against the table, where it flounders weakly, a bony clump of glinting scales, hollow-eyes, and leathery wings. With his hands still locked on the creature’s throat, he raises his eyes, looks across the table and says, “So, what do you know about demons?”
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Tere peers at his down cards and frowns at the five cards displayed face-up in front of him, as if willing them to change. I hope Osprey gets here soon...I haven't gotten anything better than a two-card Onion all night.
When Osprey enters, the elf hurriedly gathers his cards and piles them on the deck. "Sorry we can't finish the hand. I, I don't know much about demons, but I'll bet Khellek does!" He looks expectantly at the bard, ready for the lecture to come.
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Doodle wasn’t good at cards, and was barely paying attention when Osprey finally arrived.
”I don’t know much about demons except they are usually quite naughty. But you shouldn’t be hurting the little guy, Mister Osprey. I don’t like seeing it suffer,” Doodle says defending the little demon from any torture.
Osprey glares at Doodlevain, not pleased at being called out like that.
"They get it," he growls, nodding at Grog and Lasaraleen.
"Yes. A demon. Evil incarnate. And you," he snarls at the Quasit, "are going to tell us everything you have been plotting or I will rip your wings off and shove them down your throat."
He takes a breath and calms down a bit.
"My apologies for my lack of manners. I must proceed with introductions. This gnome here is Xersus Abergris, expert demonologist and historian.
And my other esteemed guest... please give him your complete attention."
The cloaked man steps forward and addresses the PCs in an eerily dry monotone.
"I represent the Decemvirate.
I’ve come to oversee these proceedings as they are of personal interest to me.
Osprey and Xersus shall speak on my behalf, unless I find it necessary to intervene.
As far as you are all concerned, you have never seen me.
Do I make myself clear?"
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Lasaraleen nods in agreement but then furrows her brow in conflict .
”Um… “
Just as she is about to say something she sees Doodle and Tere with serious faces then catching herself
”right…Sounds good. Transparent.“
Turning back to the gnome
”Greetings Xersus. Is your research like from personal experiences or like from books?“
The masked figure nods at Tere and Lasaraleen and makes no further comment.
Xersus the gnome responds to the cleric of Sarenrae.
"Both, to tell the truth. Most often books, or personal interviews for second-hand information, but I have some direct first-hand experience as well such as with this quasit.
You see, one of the problems with demons is their complete lack of organization. We sages have very little to work from when investigating and cataloging them. Devils of course, keep lengthy records, but with these things," he pauses to disdainfully poke the quasit, "these things couldn’t tell you the name of their own mother. This makes the job of studying and cataloging them very important.
Many years ago, I used to work with a cleric and expert demonologist named Baldimar Trud. Trud was also a revered cleric of Cayden Cailean, and guided all of his research to assist in the fight against these Abyssal brutes. Still, the church had few available funds for his elaborate studies, and thus he sought out and received funds from other investors, including significant patronage from the Society. Over the course of several years, he built a research laboratory and compiled an extensive archive. Unfortunately, we have seen none of his work since he died before revealing its location. After Cayden’s Hall burned down the last time, I thought his works gone forever.
Though a few days ago, I came upon this little fellow going through my personal notes. Notes concerning my old friend Baldimar. I don’t believe this is a coincidence and strongly believe this fellow shall soon tell us why he was in my possessions. After that, I’m sure Osprey has a plan for you."
Osprey looks to you. "If you want to try a more... civilized... way of getting the demon to talk, have at it. If that doesn't work, there's always my way." He sneers the word 'civilized', suggesting that he does not hold the concept in very high regard.
Osprey maintains his grip on the quasit, his fingers hooked like raptor talons. He does not appear to be inflicting pain on it at the moment, just holding it in place.
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Doodle waits for Lara to take the lead, as she remembers her friend was very persuasive. She chimes in and tries to help as best she can.
”Please little quasit, tell us what you know. I’m afraid Mr. osprey and the others might be extra mean if you don’t. I don’t see any need for anyone to suffer here…”
Aid another diplomacy
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Continuing the good cops part, Lasaraleen piles on
”Thats like totally right! It would better to tell us nicely who sent you and why you are here. We are more likely to treat you better than our colleagues over there. But you know if you like suffering rather than cooperating, some that’s up to you to decide.o“ she smiles back to the critter and then Doodle
"Well..." thinks the quasit, "maybe we can make a deal. What will you give me for the information?
How about... a baby? A nice chubby one. Halfling is best."
The quasit licks its lips with a forked tongue, looking hopefully at Lasaraleen.
"Or what else might you give me?
The soul of that stupid greenskin?"
"My freedom, after I tell you everything I know?
The steaming entrails of any one enemy that I name?"
The demon seems to consider its odds. He looks up and down Grog's height, then over at Doodle. He looks to Tere, then his eyes rest on Lasaraleen's holy symbol.
It's common knowledge that Sarenrae's mercy has its limits, especially when it comes to fiends. This might be what tips the fiend over into cooperation.
He looks up at Osprey, who is still pinning the demon to the table. Then he starts writhing and screaming.
"Ahh! The pain! The pain! Stop, stop! I'll tell you everything!"
Opsrey looks confused for a second.
The quasit quiets down.
"But let it be said that I withstood unimaginable tortures, even for a demon, and only broke after this one" - he nods at Osprey - "inflicted pain even beyond that found in the Abyss. They'll have a place for you when you die, mortal."
Osprey just stares at the quasit.
"So, then. After long years of freedom, I heard the voice of my old master, Graz’ith Ur Maurgith. I am bound to him for all eternity. The voice came from somewhere within Cayden's Hall. I learned that the Caydenites had a demonologist who died years ago, and also that he had worked with this wrinkly gnome. So I tried to find out what the wrinkly gnome knew of Cayden's Hall."
Xersus interjects, "Baldimar's laboratory and archive! It must still exist. Had he captured and bound this demon? But it would have to be hidden. And maybe the rebuilding since the last fire has covered it up... can we find it?"
Osprey responds. "They will. Pathfinders, you are to go to Cayden's Hall and investigate. I would suggest that you first find High Priestess Saphira and ask what she knows. Should you PCs find anything, you would do well to contact me immediately, especially if you get in over your heads."
Faction Missions, if you care. These do not affect the Prestige anymore (there's a different condition for that), but they may give some information or be interesting RP. Do them or not as you choose.
I require your assistance with two personal matters. My spies report that you are investigating the secret life of Baldimar Trud. I suspect that his real name was Baldimar Doystevan, the third son of Alcritus Doystevan, a famed and wealthy progenitor of many of today’s senators. Find proof of Baldimar’s noble birth and use this information to claim his lost property for his family.
Of equal importance, I request you present High Priestess Saphira with a formal written apology on behalf my good friend Count Tristoff. I believe they had issues over soured business dealings involving several shipments of wine. He’d greatly like to make financial amends and renegotiate a new contract with her.
For Taldor!
Baron Jacquo Dalsine
My informants briefed me on your task, and your time at Cayden’s Hall can aid our nation greatly. Arnaud Deschamp claims to have the ear of the Emperor of Taldor himself. He’s been performing at Cayden’s Hall for weeks and is in Absalom after having been run out of Almas by the local constabulary for theft, fraud, and some indiscretions with a merchant’s daughters. Convey to him without violence that his actions in Almas will not go unpunished and Eagle Knights are on their way to collect him from the hall. Hopefully he’ll return to Oppara and Absalom will be rid of his filth.
Additionally, where there are demons, there are charms. Should you find anyone to be under the influence of demonic possession and acting against their nature, do your best to keep your compatriots from killing him. You need not save them all, but at least save one. We could use the favor of the church of Cayden Cailean.
Many Thanks,
Captain Colson Maldris
Overheard pillow talk indicates that you are seeking the fabled archives of that wretched demonologist Baldimar Trud. Like many exceptionally boring Pathfinders, Trud was a prolific note taker, so I suspect he documented everything. Find any documentation concerning his involvement with our agents before any of your non-Chelish allies—they are all lies and should be destroyed before they can be used against us. Furthermore, should these persistent rumors of Baldimar having trapped a demon be true, bring me a drawing of the wards used to contain the creature so that I might explore the possibility of dealing with some of Cheliax’s humanoid “demons” in much the same way.
Paracountess Zarta Dralneen
"Yes. Calling to me from this realm, somewhere in Cayden's Hall."
"As a mortal? That was a very long time ago," laughs the quasit. "His soul has since become a Hezrou. Bound for all eternity, yes, so I am. Unless he were to be killed."
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Khellek has been sitting silently by a fireplace, watching the demon interact with the rest of the group. Listening and taking "boring" notes. However as the discussion turns to the demons "master" he becomes interested.
"Interesting. Hezrou are traditionally more of a brute than a smart demon. Something I would expect an especially viscous thug or torturer to turn into, not a wizard. Tell us more of your master little demon."
"Er, if you're bonded to him, does that give him any idea where you are, who you're talking to, or what you're telling us?"
"Maybe," sneers the quasit. "Maybe I am just sending you to free him from his imprisonment by blundering around as you foolish mortals do."
”Like that is a phenomenal story but how or where do we find him…this voice or whatever it is? Do we just go to Cayden's Hall and find him at the bar?
Something tells me it is not going to be that easy peasy or you would have done it already.“
"As I said," interjects Xersus, "it is most likely in Baldimar's secret laboratory and archive, hidden somewhere in Cayden's Hall. You must go there and ask High Priestess Saphira what she knows."
"Interesting. Hezrou are traditionally more of a brute than a smart demon. Something I would expect an especially viscous thug or torturer to turn into, not a wizard. Tell us more of your master little demon."
The quasit replies, "Oh, he has been a demon for thousands of years, much longer than he was a mortal spellcaster. And he wasn't always a Hezrou. Perhaps someday he will be a more powerful demon. He's still smarter than he looks. But these past few centuries he has quite enjoyed the visceral pleasure of ripping inferior beings limbs from limb."
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"Just checking." huffs the old man.
He peers over his glasses at the team. "Yes... yes... I do think I've seem most of you before. Waiting to turn in your history papers late most likely. Why, when you have been around as many years as I have, faces begin to blur a bit."
He takes off his glasses and absently polishes them, almost as if he were unaware that what he just said had multiple interpretations. Putting them on again he peers again, this time at Tere. "Ahh yes, Mr Montefeltro. Now would be the time for you to remind me that you have been around even longer than me. Yes, yes..." he mutters in a distracted fashion.
Cayden’s Hall is a massive, open fest hall of rough-hewn timbers. The latter have been replaced many times over the years thanks to their predecessors being burnt to cinders when the large, celebratory bonfires often burning within the wooden structure mixed badly with the very large and very inebriated crowds frequenting the establishment.
Through open doors you can see that an antechamber serves as the Hall’s main entrance. It consists of a long hallway flanked on either side by rows of barstools facing parallel oaken bars that run the length of the hall. Massive kegs set into the walls behind the bar allow clergy members to quickly address the needs of their patrons and petitioners.
About half the taproom’s stools already seat drunken revelers at the long oaken bars. The boisterous patrons hoist their tankards, raising slurred toasts and praises amid the tall tales of wild adventure.
A pair of temple guards stand at the front door.
"Are you here to join the revels? Or have you other business at Cayden's Hall?"
"Is there any reason that we shouldn't identify ourselves as Pathfinders?"
Are you asking anyone in particular?
Osprey, Xersus, or the quasit? Or the other PCs?
The mysterious cloaked figure slipped away when the briefing concluded.
"I never like sharing more of the Society's business with outsiders than I need to, but the faithful of Cayden Cailean are not hostile to our work. Mostly decent types.
Use your best judgement.
If you choose to lie to them, make it a very good one and don't get caught out. Wouldn't want to Society to develop a reputation for deceit. And, nothing draws attention to a subject like an attempt to cover it up."
"Business with whom? Are they expecting you?"
The guards are not rude, but they do seem to expect an answer.
Is anybody wearing a Wayfinder openly?
"Henril, can you go see if that is okay?"
One guard dispatches the other to go check with the High Priestess.
"He'll just be a minute."
The guard walks off through the crowd.