You arrive at the docks of Greengold on a ship delivering relief supplies from the city of Absalom. You've escorted the shipment and accompanied Kreighton Shaine on the journey.
As he leads you to disembark and walk down the Sunfish Pier, he welcomes you to reintroduce themselves. He explains that the Pathfinder Society has rented out the inn and tavern named The Warmouth as a temporary lodge and that's where you're headed.
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The gangplank creaks under the weight of two very different figures: a bouncing goblin in a soot-stained apron and a towering, metal knight carrying a rather large number of crates like it’s a casual hobby.
Bork squints up the pier, then down at the boards beneath his boots.
“Smells less like the sea, more like opportunity,” he says cheerfully, though he’s already tinkering with a loose nail as he walks. “You think they’ve got workbenches at this Warmouth place? Or at least decent nails?”
The construct behind him answers in a low, even rumble.
“I DO NOT REQUIRE BENCHES. ONLY DUTY.”
Bork waves a hand. “Right, right, duty, honor, clanking. But, look... if they have a forge, we’re stopping. Sir Good-Longshanks Armor Pants here can carry the rest of my stuff to the inn.”
He looks up at Kreighton Shaine and grins. “Name’s Bork Von Clankstein, Pathfinder, inventor, and founder of the Order of Things That Probably Shouldn’t Work But Somehow Do. This here is my associate, Sir Goodshanks. He hits things. Nobly.”
The goblin thumps his chest once, then gestures proudly at the metal knight as they march toward The Warmouth, the rhythmic clank-clank-clank following like an anthem. A squeaky anthem, but an anthem none the less.
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Scripio jumps up onto a series of crates as the deckhands yell at him to get down. "I'm on a boat! I'm on a boat! Everybody look at me!
'Cause I'm sailing on a boat!" His whip cracks in the air repeatedly, causing the dockworkers to duck down.
The goblin jumps down from the crates and races down the gangplank, still cracking his whip in the air. He doesn't even stop as he passes Kreighton Shaine. "Byyyye elf man!" The goblin races into the city, hopefully making his way to the The Warmouth.
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Achurius rubs his head at the thought of TWO goblins in the same mission as he. He fondly remembers the days when they were rarely seen in the halls of the Grand Lodge.
"Well, pleased to meet you all," he says politely in spite of his feelings.
"It's nice to visit an elven city. Fare more civilized than your usual city."
As the conversation continues, Kreighton Shaine leads everyone into an inn and tavern named The Warmouth and up to the balcony overlooking the rest of the tavern. The balcony is decorated in three distinctive styles: orderly to the left, chaotic to the right, and a blend where the two sides meet in the middle, like a paint pallet where black and white was mixed to get gray.
“Pathfinders,” declares Kreighton, “we gather here to assist the people of Greengold in the rebuilding of their city after the recent fungal depredations. To your left is Head of Procurement Immaculate-Weaving-Under- Moonlight Nairaba, to your right is head of Supplies Kitsch, and in the middle stands the Venture-Captain of Kyonin, Viore Ciobanu, who should have more current information on the local political
landscape.”[b]
The lanky elf painter in question fidgets, adjusting his glasses before nodding. [b]“After investing in the town and assisting with the rebuild—which the heads of Supplies and Procurement have been exceedingly helpful in executing—the city of Greengold has given us permission to build a lodge. However, the local leadership may limit what functions that the Lodge is permitted depending on their opinions of the Society. We have sponsored a Faire of Remembrance where we can negotiate with the relevant town leaders to determine what they will allow. We need you, Pathfinders, to see if you can influence the leadership of Greengold to give them a better impression of the society at the Faire.“
Viore looks to the assembled agents. “Any questions?”
to change his campaign strategy and look for new supporters.
And the Society is trying to leverage this opportunity to create much deeper ties into Kyonin, using it as a base to monitor the Whispering Tyrant, and leverage it into a seat as part of the Encarthan Alliance.
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Bork hops up onto the nearest chair, mostly because it helps him see over the table... but partly for emphasis.
“Booooring! Longshanks cities all BOOORING! You all too polite to say truths!” he declares, waving his wrench like a scepter. “Elven cities have walls so clean you can see your own reflection judging you. Dwarven cities? They make stairs just to prove they hate goblins!”
He crosses his arms, nodding once. “That’s why I bring my own city wherever I go.” He thumps the side plating of Sir Good-Longshanks Armor Pants, who emits a low metallic hum that could almost be agreement.
“We’ll build bridges, fix forges, or blow up fungus if it helps the Society look good. Just point us at the problem!”
Then, grinning at Kreighton Shaine: “Also, important question! Do Faires of Remembrance have snacks? Because I negotiate best with a full stomach. Sir GoodShanks here is also an accomplished stand-up comedian... at least that is what he tells me.”
Sir Good-Longshanks Armor Pants stands perfectly still for a long, awkward moment. Then, in that hollow, noble baritone, he speaks:
“A dwarf, an elf, and a goblin walk into a bar. I walked into the wall beside it. Structural integrity confirmed.”
He pauses. The silence stretches. Somewhere, a glass breaks.
Then his head tilts slightly toward Bork.
“…THAT WAS HUMOR.”
The goblin’s laughter follows immediately... loud, cackling, and utterly unhelpful to maintaining any sense of decorum.
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"There are cookies?" Scripio hops up to stand on a chair and looks at the table. He's quite disappointed to see the lack of cookies, but then he suddenly yells, "WAIT!" For a long moment, everyone looks at him.
The goblin continues to look around for cookies while he speaks."There's someone named Talwivir. Mayor Selwyn doesn't like him. Maybe because Talwivir wants his job. And he is talking about making Greengold green again, like with the Garden of Remembrance. So the Mayor is looking for other support." The goblin hardly seems to even register what he's saying, but then gives a salute to Bork and the Order of Things That Probably Shouldn’t Work But Somehow Do.
"We expect you only to speak to the different leaders and use your powers of persuasion on them. Though, if they ask you for any reasonable favors, I leave it to your discretion as to whether you should do them or not," Shaine, says.
"As far as the leadership goes, there are four main people for you that you need to convince," Viore says.
The three local Agents begin to give you a breakdown of those people.
Kitsch squeaks excitedly. “Dalamian is the representative of Queen Telandia Edasseril and the queen’s cousin. She is a Royal Knight and led the initial negotiations that formed the Encarthan Alliance. She’s had a good opinion of Pathfinders so far.
“Shalelu Andosana is a famous adventurer, wanderer, and a warden of
the wilderness. She protected Sandpoint in Varisia for many years, then crossed the Spine of the world and visited Tian Xia. After she returned to Avistan, she spent several years assisting Sheila Heidmarch and the Magnimar Lodge. She made her way to Kyonin just in time for the Whispering Way debacle, and during the Spore War she served as the logistics officer for the heroes that slew Treerazer. She is very friendly toward the Society.”
Nairaba explains “Nalora is Greengold’s religious leader and a Luminary Companion of Calistria. They are concerned about the length of time it is taking to rebuild the temple and are neutral on the issue of the Lodge.”
Kitsch looks dour. “Selwyn Vanaidori is the current mayor of Greengold. He has an election coming up soon, and is concerned about keeping his position despite the disasters that have befallen the city. He is strangely resistant to the idea of the lodge being built here.”
"Any other questions or preparations before we head to the Faire?" Kreighton asks.
Nairaba explains “Talwivir is the head of Greengold’s City Planning. He rose to prominence after the Spore War. He was a gardener who helped identify the Jaharlu spore in Greengold, and was promoted due to his efforts. He will welcome anyone who supports his vision for Greengold.”
Once you have finished your questions, you proceed to the Faire of Remembrance, accompanied by your superior officers.
Kreighton and the rest of the leadership accompany their agents through the city, on the way to the Founder’s Square, where the Faire of Remembrance will be held. The city of Greengold is a study in contrasts, with almost wild tree growth mixed in with damaged homes and businesses.
As the group approaches the square, Kreighton Shane says “The Society has invested a great deal in the restoration of Greengold, and we are willing to invest more. Helping those that were discomfited by the recent attacks is a worthy cause, yet the Society hopes for more. We have an opportunity to gain more prominence and access in Greengold and in Kyonin.”
Venture-Captain Ciobanu nods. “That is where you come in. We need you to go throughout the faire, interact with some of the power players here and make a good impression. The influence that you gather will assist with the final negotiations.“
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Achurius sighs with contentment as he takes in the natural focus of the city and groans as he spots the damaged buildings and trees.
"It is sooo good to see a proper city again, one that is part of nature and in harmony with its surroundings."
Achurius hunts down Shalelu and gushes over the natural design of the city, restating the societies commitment to help rebuild, pointing out various trees and bushes and what would probably help them recover and thrive.
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Norbwald rolls their chair up to mayor Vanaidori. "Ahh Mr. Mayor. Chin up there. I know things have been tough recently but that's when we need our biggest smiles. Come share a drink with me, and then put on a smile. The people have lost many things, but I don't want to see you lose hope."
Norbwald offers a sip of his beverage to the Mayor.
The Pathfinders scatter throughout the Faire of Remembrance.
Achurius finds Shalelu in the Gardens of Remembrance (area 1 on the map on slide 3. Shalelu is on slide 5.))
The Gardens of Remembrance looks like a wild area at first, but there’s a subtle order to where everything is placed. In the center, a massive tree has been grown in such a way that it looks as if names have been carved on the trunk. The names are those that were lost in the Spore War from Greengold, and it looks like they have started adding additional names of those that were lost in the past wars with Treerazer.
Shalelu is a rugged-looking female elf with a wild blond ponytail and sharp blue eyes. She dresses in heavy studded leathers and a warm cloak and is never without her trusty bow.
It turns out that she is already a supporter of the Pathfinder Society and, is more than happy to chat with him about nature and both how it can be renewed here and leveraged to protect Greengold.
Norbwald and Scripio find the Mayor - a rare human holding a position of authority in Kyonin, Selwyn has long, wavy brown hair and a mature, dusky dace with a warm smile. He always dresses in green and gold, to better associate himself with the city - in the Damaged Temple of Calistria (area 2 on the map on slide 3. Selwyn is on slide 5.)
The once magnificent temple to Calistria is in the process of being rebuilt. Large tents in front allow the clergy of Calistria to minister to the faithful.
Selwyn is admiring the architecture here.
"Yes, quite a few things going with the rebuilding and all, but I know that I can help Greengold return to its former glory and surpass it," he replies to Norbwald.
"Yes...well, it is an unfortunate part of the job that you have to keep convincing people that you're worthy of the job," he says to Scripio.
The dwarf waits to know how the different people can be handle with.
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It turns out that she is already a supporter of the Pathfinder Society and, is more than happy to chat with him about nature and both how it can be renewed here and leveraged to protect Greengold.
He tries to turn the conversation towards the objectors and what their problem is and what, if anything, she can tell him about them.
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Bork approaches the half-repaired temple, staring up at the scaffolding that seems to lean more out of stubbornness than stability. A goblin grin spreads across his face. “Now this,” he says admiringly, “this is good craftsmanship. Nothing falling, nothing exploding... yet. Must be the blessing of the Lady of… uh… trickery.”
He stops a respectful distance from Nalora, his hands clasped behind his back like a student trying to behave. “You must be the one keeping this all from collapsing. Bork von Clankstein, Order of Things That Probably Shouldn’t Work But Somehow Do. We specialize in projects that are... divinely inefficient until they suddenly aren’t.” Sir Good-Longshanks Armor Pants bows stiffly beside him, one arm squeaking slightly as it moves.
“I was hoping to hear how the rebuild is going. Rumor is that it has been… slow. I know a thing or two about getting stubborn structures to cooperate.”
Sir Goodshanks immediately cuts in "WHO ARE YOU CALLING STUBBORN!"
Ignoring the construct, Bork leans in with a smile. “I am always happy to apply a little goblin ingenuity, just say the word!”
Wizel manages to sway Shalelu even more to their cause.
Bork learns nothing about the Mayor.
Scripio learns that the skills that will influence the mayor in ascending order of difficulty are: Labor Lore (how to organize workers), Crafting (help to rebuild the city), Deception, Intimidation, and Diplomacy. He does NOT want to discuss the upcoming elections but talk of the Aspsis Consortium makes him nervous and easier to influence.
"I am here to oversee the reconstruction efforts. It's of vital importance to the city that we rebuild and get things back to normal," he replies to Fireflash.
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Achurius will approach Nalora and discuss religious matters.
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reroll!!!
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"Wars are such a waste aren't they. It is a pity they cannot seem to keep their violences restricted to secular targets, but there you have it. Tell me about your temple and what needs to be done. The Pathfinder Society often takes interest in projects like that and might offer support."
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Norbwald, wanting to make sure to offer his drink around, he walks his chair over to Dalamian.
Offering up his drink Norbwald politely notes "As long as its not forbidden" to give the knight a polite out if desired.
Either way Norbwald takes a swig of his own beverage after giving Dalamian a shot.
"Please, tell me your opinions of these proceedings. So many times have those with valor are forgotten when it comes times for politics. What details might we be missing, that we should be paying attention to."
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Bork squints up at a cracked archway, running a calloused thumb along one of the support beams. “You’ve got good structure here. Bit too clean in the joints though... that’s where stress builds. Sometimes a little unevenness helps hold things together.”
He nods politely toward Selwyn. “You’re the one coordinating all this, right? I’m Bork von Clankstein. I’ve spent plenty of time patching up buildings after explosions. Some planned, some less so. If you want the work to last, you’ve got to balance quality with speed or else you just rebuild the same wall every few months.”
He glances around at the scaffolding, then adds absently, “At least you’re not buying lumber from the Aspis Consortium. Their planks look fine until the first rainstorm, then your whole roof flexes and warps...”
Sir Good-Longshanks gives a stiff nod beside him, as if seconding the point.
“Anyway, looks like you’re doing fine work here. Maybe I could help get the crews better organized-show them a few tricks to cut waste and keep morale up.”
Achurius and Scripio find Nalora, a striking nonbinary elf with golden eyes and dark, wavy hair, dressed in revealing yellow silks and carrying a thorn-covered staff that emits a pale-yellow glow, not in the damaged temple but in the Laughing Gale Feasthall (3), enjoying drinks with a mix of elves and Ulfen humans.
When the Ulfen delegation saw that the Laughing Gale Tavern was destroyed during the attack, they bought the property and rebuilt it in the style of an Ulfen feasthall. Citizens of the town can be found celebrating with alcohol and minor feats of strength.
"Why, darling, your offer is so kind," Nalora says to Achurius. "But this is no time to talk of the temple or religion at all. Sit down, have a drink and we can talk of business later."
"You see? Now this little man, knows how to talk to someone," they say as Scripio chimes in. "I'm quite fond of a properly used whip, actually."
Scripio learns that they can be influenced by the following skills in ascending order of difficulty: Calistria Lore, Alcohol Lore, Performance, Deception, Acrobatics, Diplomacy. They will ignore anyone who tries to coerce them but are pleased when people they flirt with flirt back.
Norbwald finds Dalamian at Founder's Square (4). A marble statue of an elven man, wearing gleaming silver chain mail while holding aloft a slender sword in one hand and a bow in the other, is currently propped up by scaffolding. It seems to have been broken during the attack on Greengold, and is being restored. A podium has been erected in front of the statue, someone is addressing the crowd from there.
Dalamian is a pale-skinned female elf with purple eyes, her blond hair adorned with silver beads and her forehead crested with an elegant tattoo.
"No, thank you," she waves the flask away preemptively, though her arched eyebrow raises further at his question.
"You Pathfinders' assistance has been valuable but what matters now is strengthening the Encarthan Alliance to make sure that what happened here at Greengold does not happen again and to retake more of our lands," she replies to Norbwald's question.
"Yes! Yes! That's just what this city needs. Good building material, good processes, good morale. We can rebuild, as good or better. We just have to have a plan," Selwyn replies to Bork and Wizel.
"No, but I fear that they are going to grow too influential here," Selwyn replies.
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The goblin can barely contain his excitement to show Nalora his whip. He thinks back to the Galtean with the tight pants who first showed him how much fun whips could be and let him train with him on the stage.
Scripio dances to a clear spot. "Ok, Pretty lady, let me show you how my whip can move!"
"My whip crack brings all the boys to the yard,
And they're like, it's better than yours,
Darn right it's better than yours,
I can whip you, but I have to charge!"
He grins at Nalora with that last line, and then licks his finger and touches his bottom with a "Pssshh" sound.
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Achurius tries to remember if and how the society helped defend the city (I assume the mentioned assistance was military but I'd like to make sure).
I'm hoping to find out if the society participated and do some name dropping when talking to Dalamian if they did. I'm going to assume she was involved in the defense and is a military woman.
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Bork watches Scripio’s whip dance with wide eyes, nodding with deep approval. “Now that’s how you get attention...”
Bork leans casually against the bar, trying his best to match the poise of the elf. It lasts all of three seconds before he grins up at Nalora.
“Lady Nalora, I couldn’t help but notice the way you… manage a room. That kind of presence takes real balance, grace, and… torque.”
He gestures toward the towering construct beside him. “Now, I’m not much for dancing myself, but Sir Good-Longshanks here- he’s the strong, silent type. Follows every command to the letter. Doesn’t argue, doesn’t tire, doesn’t quit...”
The goblin gives a proud nod. “Some might even say he’s got… remarkable stamina. Built to last through the long haul, if you catch my meaning.”
Sir Good-Longshanks stands perfectly still, the faint creak of metal the only sound as if even he knows better than to interrupt.
“Anyway,” Bork says, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “if you ever need help balancing the load around here, the Order of Things That Probably Shouldn’t Work But Somehow Do is always at your service.”
Sir Good-Longshanks straightens, the faint click of realignment echoing through the room. He looks to Bork for confirmation, then to Nalora.
“AS REQUESTED, I SHALL DISPLAY… STAMINA.”
He drops into a deep squat. Then another. And another. The rhythm is painfully precise, each motion accompanied by the quiet grind of gears and the faint hiss of vented steam.
Maintain form. Engage balance subroutine. Resist wobble.
Beside him, Bork starts counting. By the time he reaches twenty, the knight shows no sign of slowing.
“I CAN CONTINUE UNTIL THE NEXT SOLSTICE” he reports solemnly, voice carrying through clicks of his hydraulics.
Nalora watches Scripio clear the floor with expectant joy. They are not disappointed as the goblin catches a beat and comes up with lyrics only a goblin could think of, yet which are also entertaining.
They clap enthusiastically though many of the other patrons just watch him in confusion. "Bravo, my little bravo! Very impressive," they say.
They are clearly less impressed and simply confused by Bork and Sir Good-Longshanks' demonstration. "Um...yes...very nice. I can see where that could be...useful?"
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Norbwald moves on from Dalamian and goes to talk to Nalora instead.
Ahh, Dalamian. Please try a sip of this, I find it does a good job keeping the edge off."
Norbwald offers them a swig of his beverage.
Following up "Given the beauty and knowledge contained among the followers of Calistra, I'm surprised you aren't more excited about the potential of a Pathfinder Lodge. They are always full os stressed agents in need of your famous relaxation services, as well as young agents desperate for even snippets of information and more than willing to accomplish all manner of favors in return for such."