Venture-Captain Calisro Benarry invites the Pathfinder agents to meet her at the helm of the Glorious Payoff, where she navigates the vessel down the Garundi coast. This crew has been traveling together for several days now and have had ample time to get acquainted.
So, before we begin, why don't you introduce yourselves?
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The Vishkanya isn't in his best form on a ship as he does prefer to walk on the ground. His splint mail is not the best clothes to wear on a ship anyway. His shield and his machete show further his warrior's tendency. During the presentations he says:
Nicccce to meet you. My name'sssss Riddle of Nowhere. Coming from Jalmeray and wandering where the missionssss lead me. Let'ssss ssssee if we will reveal ssssome new magical mysssteries during thissss journey.
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"It looks like a toad..."
The first, and last, words our future brave hero would hear from her male progenitor, who not without some biological statistical backing, had reason to believe the human baby - born with an odd color, a stubby tail, and warts all over - was not rightfully his by paternal rite.
Truth is, "tainted" blood can easily manifest qualities - even unusual qualities - in non-repeating generations, casting credulity over the declinement of hereditary belonging. Some demon creeping between supposed lovers, leaving it's corrupted seed in a cold nest to fester the bond it's presence had interrupted. Or so the dark fantasy crawls through the mind like some stinging shadow.
"Rospo" or not - as the Chelaxian Mythos calls the namesake taken by a powerful race of the Outer Rifts - Hezrioux had grown up always liking her name, and in her home of Westcrown, has always enjoyed the company of the other children that were like her, even as she had never come to know her father, whom too, she had heard her mother describe him as a "man of words" - an axiom that would blossom in the very depths of her being, and resonate at her soul's core, to ignite a burning passion for literature, history, cosmology, and religion.
An apple not fallen far, perhaps.
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Herkemer is a blond haired halfling wearing worn leather armor. His hair is shoulder length, but usually tied back in a thin queue on his head. He sports a rapier and handful of daggers on his person. He seems a bit wide-eyed at the vastness of the sea, and the view of the verdant coastland to the south.
"Hello all, my name is Herkemer Halfshanks. Herk to my friends. Just left my first mission, it started on a boat near Garund also, in Merab specifically. Had a tussle with some angry sports fans. Damn glad to meet you, and see what this mission is all about."
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"Hezru" the tiefling woman pronounces her name phonetically.
Tall and broad, but bespectacled with thin wires supporting small reading lenses, there is a bit of an erudite air that hangs about the confident posture our runic hero poses in her standing gait. Strapped to her torso, a breastplate emblazoned with intricate lines in an old language - a similar pattern circumscribing every inch of the large club secured to her back.
She steps between the company rogues, unafraid to let them flank her "I am new to the Society, but have read up enough to know that our aims are shared. You might not be surprised to discover that those who sail the high seas often possess a wide array of bits of powerful knowledge. The synthesis of which might be a greater sum than it's parts. I myself am no sailor, but my ambition is that the knowledge I have accumulated over my time shall suffice as Protection over our band"
During the several-days voyage, she helps with the manual labor by day, and burns through many candles by night, a collection of manuscripts and journals feeding her voracious appetite for the written word. Each morning, she focuses her energies in a short series of rites that refresh the soft lustre of dweomercraft etched into her greatclub that reads: Sun-Marssyl
Sun-, Diacritic Rune of Preservation
Usage: drawn on a rune
This spiraling diacritic channels the magic of a rune outwards, then back to the same location, allowing a rune to reconstitute itself. After the base rune is invoked, the rune automatically Traces itself back upon the same target.
Special: You can have only one copy of sun-, diacritic rune of preservation applied at a given time, and once you invoke it, you cannot Etch or Trace it again for 10 minutes.
Marssyl, Rune of Impact
Usage: drawn on a bludgeoning weapon or unarmed Strike
This rune magnifies force many times over as it passes through the rune’s concentric rings. The weapon deals 1 bludgeoning splash damage per weapon damage die. If the weapon is a melee weapon, the rune-bearer is immune to this splash damage.
Invocation: The weapon vibrates as power concentrates within it. The next successful Strike made with the weapon before the end of its wielder’s next turn deals an additional die of damage and the target must succeed at a Fortitude save against your class DC or be pushed 10 feet in a straight line backwards, or 20 feet on a critical failure.
A cloaked young woman approaches, but something seems very "off" about her. Every time you try to assess the details of her appearance the colors seem to shift from your expectations. On focusing (perhaps after a double take) you notice that her being seems not entirely substantial. Her form seems... spectral.
Despite that, she seems overly enthusiastic.
Hey everyone! I'm Lidya. I was a Pathfinder agent until...
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Soon after a frustrated looking tiefling, tall with ruby-red skin and milky opaque eyes strides up from behind remarking
Please don't get into your whole story Lidya.
After exhaling he looks around at the group.
I'm Morthos, her brother. And I am a Pathfinder agent.
During their time aboard the ship, the two seem to fuss over chores alot, but they both seem determined to contribute!
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The tattooed and bald Vudrani man introduced himself simply but cordially to the other Pathfinders. "Call me Zisiro; I'm here to help."
He is not particularly loquacious for a Pathfinder though he is always smiling. He can usually be found in random places helping the sailors with manual labor on the Glorious Payoff, which he navigates nimbly. When he moves, it is with frenetic energy: leaping down the last two steps, sliding down a ladder instead of climbing down, or swinging from one place to another on the mast nets.
As a splash of salt crashes over the bow of the Glorious Payoff, Calisro Benarry deftly steers her ship through a hidden channel, carefully navigating through the barely visible rock and coral that protrude slightly from the water’s surface. Behind the Payoff, a slightly smaller ship—the Sea Sparkle—follows, making every effort to follow Benarry’s course as closely as possible. Off the port hull, the deep green of the Garundi coast is illuminated by the late afternoon sun.
“See those gulls?” Benarry shouts over the flapping of the sails, “that’s the sandbar we’ll be dropping you off at. Barely sticks up over the waves, but the seabirds flock over it to feast on crab.
“As I explained earlier, Vidrian—you might have known it as Sargava not that long ago—needs explorers to chart the trade routes to the south that they couldn’t use back when it was ruled by Cheliax. Simple enough bit of adventuring, but the new nation’s been having trouble with the Free Captains of late. Turns out when Vidrian broke free of Cheliax, the locals stopped paying the pirates protection money, and now they’re the number-one plunder target in the Shackles. What’s more, the pirates have set up a blockade preventing our ships from making it down to Vidrian to assist.
“Thankfully, we’ve got someone on the inside. Stella Fane, a Free Captain with ties to the Firebrands and the Pirate Council, has been in contact with the Society. She and members of the Society’s leadership have put together a fairly clever plan to help the Society’s ships pass through the pirate blockades unharmed. The Wind and the Waves willing, the Payoff and the Sparkle can sail to Vidrian, no problem. While we’re doing that, I’ve arranged transport for you to Port Peril to meet with Fane and get her to sign this contract making the whole thing official—she may be a pirate, but she’s the kind that holds to her word. You’ll need to avoid drawing too much attention until after the deal is done. Once she’s signed the contract her friends in the Pirate Council will ratify it and there won’t be much the lesser captains can do. Be careful. Anyone looking to put a stop to this need only ensure that contract never gets signed.
"Any questions?"
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"And what does she look like? I mean, how will we know its her?" pipes in Herkemer. It was protecting a book and an author last time, now its locating a pirate queen and getting her a piece of paper. The missions of a Pathfinder agent were apparently without end. Herkemer knows a little about the underworld dealings in Absalom and other nearby places, but he wracks his brain looking for any information about pirates, Free Captains, Firebrands, or the Pirate Council as these all seem like unfamiliar terms to him.
"Yes, yes, that's sorted. Can't guarantee you won't get your feet wet, but the sea's calm enough at the moment anyway. We have a contact coming to pick you up, a freediver named Hlar. She's going to pick you up along her route, so you may be with her for a while, too. Your meeting isn't until this evening. Fane will probably want to meet you on the town somewhere, and Hlar should be able to help you find her. When you do see her... you won't miss her. She's... a lot.
"She’s a recent figure on the Shackles scene, as is her ship, the Risen Albatross. Word is, the Chelaxians bought her crew out from under her and tossed her overboard at sea. Some say she died and it’s her ghost sailing the waters and sinking slaver boats and Chelaxian ships left and right. I don’t believe it myself—never heard of a ghost that could put away as much rum as she’s been known to, that’s for sure.”
"Fantastic!" Benarry beams, "Off you go, then. Ah--no. I'm afraid that, as you can see from the fact that there's a sandbar, the sea floor rises here. Too shallow to get any closer, but that means you'll barely have to swim. Go ahead and dive in, it's all planned out!"
The party waits on the sandbar long enough to get dry, and then again long enough to get wet once more as the rising tide leaves them standing in a few inches of water.
There isn't much to do there but wait, though both Morthos and Riddle catch sight of a wooden crate barely protruding from the sandbar.
It's shut pretty tightly...
Eventually a small boat appears, sailed by an elderly diver, Hlar (female dwarf). The woman beckons the Pathfinders aboard, shifting around sacks of shellfish and crab traps to make room in the cramped vessel. Over the next few hours, Hlar sails her boat in a meandering path to shore along the submerged rock formations, every now and then jumping overboard and freediving for several minutes before reemerging with an oyster, sea urchin, or squid. If a Pathfinder offers to assist her magically with a spell such as air bubble, she gruffly declines, finding the advantage “takes the sport out of it.” When the wind dies down along the way, she rows the boat instead, passing one of the Pathfinders a spare oar and mentioning that since Benarry made her come out of her way to get them, the least they can do is help get everyone to shore.
Hlar’s boat arrives in Port Peril around sunset. As the Pathfinders drift into Crescent Harbor, sailors disembarking for shore leave remain clearly visible, singing rowdily as they work. Hlar soon lands at a smaller dock to unload her catch and gestures at Fane’s ship in one of the docks—the Risen Albatross. The diver notes that Stella Fane’s penchant for riotous nights on the town once she’s returned to port are well known, but confesses that she doesn’t know “where the kids go these days” and that the harbormaster, Tsojmin Kreidoros (male dwarf), would probably have a better idea of where he saw Fane head after her ship docked and unloaded.
Thankfully, the bald bureaucrat is close by, checking off tasks written in a ledger
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Athletics:
Athletics:
The Vishkanya tries to open the crate without success.
Well you can try to open it as well. If needed we can take it with ussss like thissss.
During the journey of Hlar's boat, Riddle is surprised by acting of the dwarf.
Once arrived at Port Peril, he thanks Hlar for her help and waits to go with his companions to meet the harbor master.
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Seeing the others struggle with the lid of the crate, Herkemer does not bother as brute force is not his forte. When the skiff arrives he clambers in trying his best to dry his shoes out in the wind and sun.
When the harbormaster is pointed out, Herkemer approaches with his best smile. "Excuse me sir, I know you are quite busy, but could you point out where the captain of the Risen Albatross went? She is apparently hard to miss, you know Captain Stella Fane?"
When Zisiro flips the crate, there is a sound of broken glass. When Tirx gets it open, he finds that all of the broken bottles have had their contents thoroughly mixed with each other, sea water, and sand.
"Of course I know her," answers Kreidoros, "but where she went is her business. I can hardly give that kind of information out." He conspicuously jostles his coin purse. "Not for free anyway," he finishes, looking at nobody in particular.
The dwarf looks up at the vishkanya. "Hm. Yes, I'm sure. There's a... uh.. processing fee for such requests. Five gold, you understand."
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”Unreasonably high” she intercedes between Morthos and the Kriedoros, blocking the exchange of cash ”We will do without your costly information, good sir” not the intimidating sort, her tone is matter-of-fact.
Turning to her party ”Easy enough to comb the downtown, no?” used to being underestimated, she casually walks past the dwarf, half-expecting him to stop her!
Searching for popular bars is certainly an option, and passersby can probably direct the party towards several.
The Pathfinders should be able to find Captain Fane that way, though they may be late for their meeting...
The sailors are more than willing to point the party towards all of their favorite bars, including The Watchtower, Last Catch, and Rivanti's Bar.
They don't have any idea which one might currently be hosting Stella Fane, however. One of them, probably!
After attempting several bars, the party finds Last Catch. Turning around toward the harbor, the Pathfinders can clearly see that one of the docks leads out to a small islet. Walking down the dock, they find themselves at an open-air tavern with a large open space facing the sea. Several fishing boats have docked directly at the restaurant, unloading both ingredients and customers. Many of the patrons appear to be amphibious or otherwise from aquatic ancestries, and a few enjoy their drinks while bobbing up and down in the water off the pier. In a corner, Stella Fane polishes off an absolutely massive plate of what looks to be fried octopus.
When she spots the party, Stella says, “Ah, you’re just in time!" though they note several empty drinks at her table, "Like little baby cleaner fish, not knowing that the shark might decide it wants a meal more than sparkling teeth. Let’s see what we’re dealing with. But first, a toast!”
To begin the night, Stella Fane orders a round of drinks and raises her cup in a toast “to calmer seas” before throwing it back.
This drink—a potent combination of ghost pepper, ginger, and bitter herbs, all steeped for days in seawater—is a Port Peril “specialty” often imbibed as a dare or for losing a bet.
"There y'are then, no intoxicants in that. Drink up with me!"
Ooh! Octopus! Can I have some?
Fane pushes a few remaining tidbits of octopus towards Lidya.
"Oh, come on," she cajoles Morthos and Hezrioux, waving their drinks towards them, "You're no fun."
Tirx sputters on the drink, which is powerful, pungent, and has an aftertaste not unlike very old tar. Fane laughs at him good-naturedly. "Yes, that's what everyone says the first time they try it. Chhfhackcofcof. But it grows on you. Unless you wash it off properly."
She raises an eyebrow at Riddle, apparently impressed. "Why, the cheapest grog money can buy. I've spared every expense for this meeting, I assure you."
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”Fun, of course, is not why we are here. But you already knew that. And holding the reins to our little carriage, with your jurisprudence at keeping you operating costs low - spirits of special caveat notwithstanding - might be well appreciated by those of even less patience than we” snark with snark like fire with fire ”I could almost say that I am looking forward to the next preceeding”
Standing her ground as their contact openly chides them with clever language. Where Hezrioux comes from, the devil-tongued verge on being a common encounter.
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"That's generous, but I have reason to keep my inhibitions in check," Zisiro says with a smile. He chuckles when Fane downs the drink she offered him herself.
The Vudrani man raises an eyebrow as Fane calls the barmaid over and offers him an alternative. "That sounds interesting." His expression is the most strained it has ever been to maintain a polite smile as he listens to the ingredients. However, he downs the concoction as quickly as any sailor downs rum once the mug arrives.
Fane gives Herkemer a hearty thumbs-up. She seems to have been sincere about respecting those who don't wish to consume alcohol, at least, and is equally enthusiastic when Zisiro drinks the brine without choking.
"Well well. Some of you Pathfinders seem impressive. Let's see that contract then, assuming the lady hasn't swallowed it."
She focuses on the document for at least several seconds before flopping back dramatically in her chair. "Boring! Let's play a game so I can keep my brain engaged long enough to suffer through this."
Looking around the bar, her eyes light up when she sees the dart board is free. "Darts!"
She takes her place at a line on the floor in front of the dartboard and challenges the Pathfinders to beat her. "Who wants to take the first shot? You go ahead while I read this."
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His head still clear, Morthos walks up to the line and accepts a dart from Stella.
Here's where the clarity of not imbibing should pay off... but he doesn't want to overplay his confidence.
While his arm swings in a throwing motion, it is really his occult magical energies that propel and aim the dart.