Welcome Aboard. Please dot and delete and I'll have some more information up soon.
Whether by land or sea, your journey to the Qadiran port of Sedeq has been long, hot and tedious. You and your fellow Pathfinders would love to spend a relaxing night in the new Pathfinder lodge recently begun here in Sedeq, but that may be premature, because Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin from the Grand Lodge in Absalom has asked you five to discover why the Pathfinders he sent to set up the lodge have stopped reporting in.
His instructions read as follows:
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Field agents,
After the defeat of Corvius Vayn, a cruel genie binder, the Society was granted permission to open a new lodge in Sedeq. A group of Pathfinders was sent to prepare the new lodge for opening but has disappeared without a trace.
All we know is the building stands abandoned. I am sending you to discover the reason for this unusual silence. The lodge is an important step toward expanding the Society’s presence in Qadira. Much work has gone into securing this unprecedented opportunity for the Society—we hope a lodge in Sedeq might allow us to oppose Qadira’s ongoing practice of genie binding more directly. The fate of all those bound to serve cruel aristocrats and genie binders in Sedeq may depend on your success, as the government has threatened to shut down our lodge if it remains abandoned.
Go to the lodge, discover the fate of your colleagues, and rescue them if necessary. Hopefully, you can find them in time so they can prepare for the lodge’s upcoming grand opening. I eagerly await your report.
—Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin, Grand Lodge of Absalom
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The GM rolls dice behind the screen...
You know something about genie binding in Qadira. Genies are particularly prized by the nobility of Sedeq. Wish-granting genies, from bottled djinn to amber-encased shaitans, command an exorbitant price in Qadira’s markets. Binding these incredibly powerful creatures is a sign of great power in Qadira.
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And now you stand before the erstwhile lodge:
The imposing lodge stands, quiet and forgotten, at the end of a narrow road. The gardens surrounding it are choked by weeds, and the impressive fountains have long dried up. A cobblestone path leading to the entrance is barely visible through tall grass growing in the cracks in the path.
A massive brass door stands partially open, its hinges unable to hold the weight of the metal.
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A lithe, young elven woman with a fur-lined cloak, heavier than one expects in these parts, approaches. She has a pack over one shoulder and a longbow over the other and they both drop down in a fluid motion as she discards the thick coat, as if squarely completing the transition from a much colder place. Underneath is nondescript hide and breeches of earthy tones. Her complexion is overly pale, even for an elf. Most interestingly, an intricate pattern of tattoos can now be seen reaching from her forearms to just where her hands meet her wrists. Sleeves hide where they begin. Her blond hair is always tied back and out of her way.
She moves very deliberately and swiftly, while her at-rest stance is of someone about to break into a sprint. She's always "on her toes."
So... here we are. Genies are particularly prized by the nobility of Sedeq. Wish-granting genies, from bottled djinn to amber-encased shaitans, command an exorbitant price in Qadira’s markets. Binding these incredibly powerful creatures is a sign of great power in Qadira. I'm going to guess they're willing to fight to maintain these practices and had something to do with the disappearance of our colleagues.
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The rugged goblin seems at home in the wilderness, and seems excited at the sight of grass and weeds, having spent way too much of the journey in hot and dusty areas. His pet bear, Gracie, also seems to perk up a bit, sniffing around in the grass.
Deerslicer draws his hunter's bow in caution, ready for anything, as he begins searching the area for tracks or signs of when someone was last through here.
Gracie sniffs around and will alert Deerslicer to anything of interest. She is still a small, young bear, and looks almost comical in the slightly-oversized light leather barding that covers the more vulnerable portions of her body.
Examining the overgrown path reveals no recent tracks. Deerslicer feels confident that nothing larger than a cat has walked this path in weeks or even longer.
Easing onto the creaking front porch, Purrlock Holmes peers into the lodge through the open front door. The front parlor is filled with formerly elegant furniture, now decaying. A thick, undisturbed layer of dust covers everything, giving the rooms a muted appearance.
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Deerslicer frowns. "How long ago d'ese other Pathfinders come here? Me think maybe they never even show up at all." He motions for Gracie to follow him into the building and starts looking around. Once inside the room, he again looks around for any tracks or signs that anyone has been inside the building.
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Deerslicer frowns. "How long ago d'ese other Pathfinders come here? Me think maybe they never even show up at all."
"Hallow Orevine. And I'm not sure, I wouldn't discount the possibility but it feels unlikely all of them would just desert it. And if they were caught before arriving we likely would've been as well."
They step in, attempting despite their height to position themselves between their allies and any potential dangers. Their heavy mechanical footsteps echo through the first room.
As you enter the room, you feel an unlikely breeze kick up, spinning tiny tornadoes of dust spinning off the furniture. A voice, rich with tinkling musical overtones, sounds from everywhere around you.
"Do not enter as uninvited guests, lest I must assume you are thieves or scoundrels.”
Strong winds coalesce in the form of an elegantly dressed djinni wearing multicolored silks. Their azure skin is draped with jewelry of gold and bright lapis lazuli that jingles briefly as the winds dissipate. Along the djinni’s arms, the thin gold jewelry is elegant, but its purpose is clear: these are chains of gold, but chains, nonetheless.
“I am Safa, and I bring you a chance to save those who came before you and reclaim your lodge.”
Safa extends their hand to create a translucent orb. Six figures, obviously Pathfinders, sleeping on comfortable pillows are visible within.
“He who has bound me demands you complete three tasks in exchange for your friends. Fail, and your friends shall share my fate, becoming bound to the one who commands me,” they say, joylessly, before dismissing the orb.
“First, he wishes you to bring ruin to his rival: Azam ibn Bashemi, a historian seeking patronage from the illustrious Avisha al-Isman of the Satrapian Guard. Sabotage his feast in the nearby parks, and replace his gift for Avisha with this trinket, and his humiliation is assured—but try not to draw attention to yourselves.” The djinni reveals a small toy soldier.
“Second, he demands you acquire a brass stopper, a silver chain, and a cold iron container from the Overmarket. He asked me to ensure you acquire these objects, so acquire them you must.” They pause with a cunning smile. “What you do with them once you acquire them is not my concern, but I urge you to seek Raha Shul so that the purpose of these objects may become clear and you can make the right choice.”
Safa creates a small glass orb filled with moving smoke resembling a brewing storm. “This valuable bauble may help you in your trades, but a kind heart or a sharp wit may help you more."
“Lastly, he demands that you punish the hobgoblins of the Iron Ring for defying his will. Slay Tadrun, the captain of the Swift Huntress.”
Safa pauses, and lowers their voice to a whisper, which somehow is as clear in the mind as their normal voice is in the air. “There are those on board the ship I hope you can free from imprisonment. Find Zoha, an undine walking in Sarenrae’s light, and ask for his help to board the ship, which is undergoing repairs. Free the ship’s captives, and prove that the Pathfinder Society has sympathy for those sharing my fate. Then—once they are free—burn the ship.”
Safa speaks once more in their normal voice. “It is just after sunrise now. You have until sundown to complete these tasks in whatever order you choose. Then return to the lodge. I am sure you have questions, and I shall try to answer.” The djinni whispers once more, “After all, I am on your side.”
The first and last tasks make Endra nervous. With hesitance, she finally speaks up to ask
What has Azam ibn Bashemi done to earn your captor's ire?
Safa shrugs. "They are rivals for the same sort of noxious power. Azem is a Qadiran traditionalist of the worst sort—one who espouses imperialism and subjugation of others. Even though it furthers my binder’s agenda, I’ll take satisfaction in you bringing humiliation to Azam. Just try not to let the blame fall on you!”
"You sayin' da Swift Huntress an' d'ese hobgoblins be slavers? Well, me no like d'at, so I say we take care o' d'em first."
He looks at the glass orb filled with smoke. "D'at a bomb or somet'in?"
The genie shakes their head. "It is only a small curiosity, but valuable. Its
warmth brings comfort, and the smoke twists depending on the mood of those who hold it. Use it to aid in your trades in the Overmarket as you seek the brass stopper, silver chain, and cold iron container."Purrlock pulls out his notepad again and scribbles more notes.
Purrlock growls in annoyance. "What have our Pathfinders done that we need to become merr-cenarries for some unknown entity?!"
"He who commands me needs no reasons to endanger the innocent if by doing so he can expand his power."
"Agreed. I don't like this situation, but if whoever it is is strong enough to bind a djinni...""You sayin' da Swift Huntress an' d'ese hobgoblins be slavers? Well, me no like d'at, so I say we take care o' d'em first."
"Just so," says Safa with a pained smile. "Have you any other questions?"
"Okay, so where d'ese places at? You lead us d'ere? Me not from 'round here."
Safa smiles. "They are not hard to find. If you do not know the city, ask as you go."
In the middle of a sprawling public park, colorful tents surround a wide area filled with expensive pillows. A middle-aged Qadiran man with jet-black hair smiles widely as he raises his hands, and the crowd’s
murmur ends.
“Friends, I trust you have enjoyed the day’s festivities thus far! What a feast we have in store for you yet! I, Azam, am not one to boast, but the marvels you will see pale only to those created by Sulesh the Great and his army of genies,” the man says.
“Our past is filled with stories that speak of our might and bravery. But where has that might gone? Who trembles at the sound of Qadiran steps approaching their borders? Too long we have been complacent.”
He sighs, shaking his head as he retrieves a small stone from his elegant robe.
“But now is the time for celebration and marvel,” his voice again loud and boisterous. Azam claps his hands, and the barren soil twists and shifts until water rushes in to create a perfect oasis between the tall palm trees.
Azam speaks one last time before sitting on a large pillow.
“Delight in the festivities. Endless refreshments and wonderful performances are yours to enjoy as we await the arrival of the illustrious Avisha al-Isman, who shall honor us with her presence soon. I hope she finds my gift to be a worthy symbol of her great accomplishments,” Azam says, patting a small ornate chest sitting on a pillow next to him. “And if you are of keen intellect and refined taste, sit with me for a traditional rendition of the great epic, The Tale of Al‑Yazan the Wanderer, so that we shall remember the history of the empire as we hope for its future.”
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Deerslicer has Gracie stay back a bit on the outskirts of the tents, since she is not as sneaky as he is. He also makes sure his onyx panther talisman is firmly on his armor, just in case.
He moves stealthily through the crowd, relatively easy because he's so small. He looks around in some of the tents, to see if there's anything of interest.
As he hears Azam speak and identify himself, he surveys the man and tries to size him up.
To the other Pathfinders, he says, "Okay, d'at chest is right next to him. We need some kind o' noise or somet'in to get him away from it. Any ideas? Maybe someone a storyteller who can get in on this Tale he tellin'?" He glances around. "Where be a bard when you need one?"
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"Best suggestion would be see if there's anything in the tents that could cause a commotion if disrupted. I'd say Gracie could cause a distraction, but I'd worry about her getting captured, and if bears aren't native to this area it'd be suspicious."
"I wonder if we could get him to make a mistake in telling the epic..."
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The Tale of Al-Yazan the Wanderer is a 2-hour epic that speaks of war and imperialistic aims. I wonder if we could get some other attendees to join in, in a disruptive way that would be hard to trace back to us. Maybe some have the energy for some over-zealous audience participation.
She looks at others expectantly. It's her best idea for now.
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Alanossë ponders a moment before speaking. ”I’m a fair archer; Deerslicer, any way you could sneak over to the chest and put some oil on it unseen, perhaps with a distraction? I could fire a fiery arrow from cover and try to light the chest on fire, if we think it’ll burn…
“Otherwise, in tandem with Hallow’s idea, I could try firing some fiery arrows from afar to light up some tents…provided we can target some empty tents as we want no casualties…”
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Deerslicer says to Alanosse, "Me like how you t'inkin, but we supposed to swap present for little toy soldier. How we do d'at if da chest on fire? No, me t'ink burnininating da chest not da best idea right now. Maybe we burninate Azam or da pillow, an' grab da chest and swap it in commotion?"
Considering a moment, he says, "Oooh, or we could steal da rock he use to make da oasis and turn off oasis. D'at be a good distraction, maybe." He glances around. "But no magic throwers here, so maybe not work."
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Deerslicer says to Alanosse, "Me like how you t'inkin, but we supposed to swap present for little toy soldier. How we do d'at if da chest on fire? No, me t'ink burnininating da chest not da best idea right now. Maybe we burninate Azam or da pillow, an' grab da chest and swap it in commotion?"
Considering a moment, he says, "Oooh, or we could steal da rock he use to make da oasis and turn off oasis. D'at be a good distraction, maybe." He glances around. "But no magic throwers here, so maybe not work."
"That could work. I've modded my exoskeleton to have some magical capabilities, but nothing that could work for that." Gears whir in their suit as they think.
So...? Anyone wanna do something...?
I understand. I was hoping to find out what the other characters are doing, because there's a lot going and the tents are just part of it.
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In one tent, you spy all kinds of chilled refreshments for the guests, kept cold by an elemental creature chained beneath the table. In front of another tent you see a group of humanoid tumblers and acrobats, all burning with living flame. In front of yet another tent you see a corral in which stands an impressive camel, tethered to a stake and dressed in the livery of the Satrap's Cavalry.
A large crowd gathers at each of these places, as well as in front of Azam for his poetry recital. Still others wander the grassy lawn, observing the marvelous magical oasis.