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You are part of a small group of Pathfinders that has been directed to take a ship from Absalom to Sedeq in the nation of Qadira, where, after a lot of negotiating, the Pathfinder Society has been permitted to open up a lodge. You've heard some rumors that something has gone amiss with this lodge opening, and you feel like there must be something to those rumors when Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin directs you to sail to Sedeq.
The Venture-Captain has left you a sealed message, not to be opened until you are near your arrival in Sedeq, adding to the mystery. For the time being, you have only your imagination - and that of your fellow Pathfinders - to go on.
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Speckled fur of mottled grey on white, one of your desert riding companions is a handsome kholo carrying a very large, nasty looking lash and a complement of full-figured throwing axes strapped to her belt. Her clothes plain, sufficient, and layered enough to release body heat in the hot temperate climate, she has brought a couple extra canteens of water, perpetually panting with her mouth open to disperse yet more heat, and aggressively hydrating.
"Though I know not magic, I am a warrior, and my Vow is my power. I will ensure that each of you makes it to our destinations safe" Drawn to the strangely sweet smell of her breath, you find conversation with Beezhul along the way to be pleasant to the senses, even if her tone is more-often-than-not a touch overserious.
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"Name's Brimly," a short, pudgy halfling says along the trip. He wears lattice armor and wields a frying pan in each hand. "Name's starting with 'B' are best names." He says this last part as if obvious.
Eyeing the Kholo's weapons, Brimly says, "Try frying pans. Cook what you kill. Kill. Cook. Kill. Cook." He punctuates each "cook" and "kill" with a downward swing of a frying pan through the air.
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Brimly blinks one eye at a time. "Cooking's best. Can't season without cookin'. You'll see once we get to the killin' time. Whip up a camp stew with the parts."
He produces something from his pack--a stick or a frog leg, hard to tell--and starts to chew on it. "Got a code though. No cookin' things that talk, or pets. Y'know, civilized-like."
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He was there all along, standing in the shadows, observing the group as they make conversations, judging their strengths, and perhaps even their weaknesses before he steps slightly out into the light.
Dressed in a grey outfit, with an axe along his hip, the half-orc grunts to make his presence known before speaking. "Kelumur..."
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He was there all along!?
~) Ever Ready
Beezhul startles "Ho Whoa!" back-peddling her legs and reflexively reaching for her weapon until she spots the axe at his side rather than brandished. She relaxes "Um. Beezhul" she returns. She almost asks a polite question like "where'd you learn to hide in plain sight?" but then decides against it. Didn't really look like he wanted to talk.
Returning to the food conversation, our jumpy hero wonders for only a moment, then seems to arrive at classifying herself as 'civilized' "Well, I mean, if you cook all the seasoning out of your food, I guess it makes sense to put it back in. But like. Why would you go to all the trouble!?" she scratches her head.
As you approach Sedeq, the port city in Qadira, you reach the point where you were instructed to open your orders. Inside is this message from Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin:
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
Recall Knowledge opportunity: Genie binding in Qadira
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Beezhul had never been a binder of anything, excpet perhaps to her word. You know, doing the best she can to keep her promises. She begins to worry about the Pathfinders she never met who went missing - silently swears to do her best to find them and bring them back alive.
There was a chance people had been talking about genie-binding and whatnot around the bazaars and street fairs - she had often gone to look at the shiny trinkets on display.
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Brimly blinks. "What's a genie? Like them folk that come outta bottles? So you could be drinkin' something fresh and out pops a floaty person?"
Brimly inspects the canteen he'd been drinking as if it were a snake about to strike him.
"They were some of the first beings to possess free will, at the beginning of all things," replies Sabrael, the dark-skinned elf who walks calmly behind the others with the aid of a smooth wooden stave. His robes flutter in the wind as the boat draws ever nearer to the Pathfinders' destination. "They are creatures of living elements, and they once wandered all the Universe and called no gods 'Master'."
He smiles broadly at Brimly, flashing a mouthful of perfect white teeth, and adds, "I suppose, if they wished, they could will themselves into a bottle for you. But many of them are far more likely to demand your obedience, or slay you with spell or steel. Genie binding is no simple feat."
The curious elf bows his head genially. "I am Sabrael of Sothis, my friends. I greet you warmly. I have not crossed paths with a genie in my many years, but I have read many tales about them."
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Brimly does not have any particular knowledge about genie binding in Qadira.
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"The high-born here in Sedeq like to have genies on hand" Beezhul shrugs, reporting what she heard someone say - perhaps she overheard a squabble about pricing and subsequent arguments - in any case "Like, if you can Bind a genie, basically it shows that you are Wealthy and Powerful" not realizing what 'and' means "Or Both!"
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"The high-born here in Sedeq like to have genies on hand" Beezhul shrugs, reporting what she heard someone say - perhaps she overheard a squabble about pricing and subsequent arguments - in any case "Like, if you can Bind a genie, basically it shows that you are Wealthy and Powerful" not realizing what 'and' means "Or Both!"
"One does indeed often beget the other," Sabrael says with a chuckle. "Binding a genie is no simple task, certainly, but commanding it thereafter is a contest of wills. These creatures can be crafty and cunning, or their wrath like an all-powerful storm." The elf taps his chin thoughtfully. "Or both!"
"In any case, I am no friend of slavers or slave-keepers myself," he says to Xavier with a nod. "But let us certainly hope, for the sake of your peace, that things do not get..."
He waves his hand once, vaguely, in reply, and laughs warmly.
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Brimly shrugs. He says, "They tie up floaty peoples' hands with rope? Seems like it wouldn't work as much."
Finished with the stick--or frog leg--he'd been biting, he rummages through his pack and produces another one. "Got some stew left over in my pack still, if anyone wants a bowl. I call it 'pack stew'."
As the Pathfinders contemplate and discuss their thoughts on the idea of genies or other creatures being bound, they are steadily making their way through the streets of Sedeq towards the soon-to-open lodge. It is a noisy city, a different kind of noise from somewhere like Absalom, and a different climate too. It's warm here, even by the water, and the lodge is out on the outskirts of the city inland and not exactly by the water.
With Venture-Captain Valsin's orders in mind, you cross through the bustling city and make your way to the outskirts, where you know the soon-to-be opened Pathfinder Lodge is located.
What you find is a narrow road, at the end of which stands the imposing building of the lodge. It is as if someone forgot this place as soon as they built it. All around you are signs of a space that has not been maintained. The surrounding gardens are choked by weeds. Impressive sculptures stand in the middle of fountains that have dried up. Even the cobblestone path leading to the entrance of this lodge is hardly visible because of all the grass growing up through the cracks in the stones.
Ahead of you is a massive brass door, which stands partly opened. It looks as if this door has never fully closed, because the weight of the metal is simply too much for the hinges to bear. The exteriors of the windows are caked with dust and grime. There is plainly no one coming out to welcome you.
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With grace, Beezhul sneaks up to the brass door, slams her back against it, crawls a few inches on tippy-toes laterally, then peeks through the open crack, her hands full of axes, ready to defend herself against what is on the other side.
Which is most likely: nothing. Which, if that be the case, she declares "All clear!"
Xavier, Bloody Whispers, and Kelumur take a look around the outside of the lodge in search of anything that might explain this odd circumstance. Scraping some of the dust off of the windows, you see the interior of the lodge is full of furniture that was elegant and is now headed in the direction of decay, perhaps because of exposure to elements from that big door that never closes. There is a visible layer of dust covering everything inside the lodge as well. Nothing pings as magical on the exterior of the building. Those who are taking a quick search conclude that the answer, whatever it is, must be inside.
Beezhul bravely leads the group in through the partially open door, pushing it a bit farther open so everyone can fit into the lodge easily.
From all around you, a voice thunders:
“Do not enter as uninvited guests, lest I must assume you are thieves or scoundrels.”
With these words, 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. Within the orb, you see six figures sleeping on comfortable pillows. Even at this distance and through this small window, you can tell these figures have the look of Pathfinders.
“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.
Not waiting for any acknowledgement of this situation, Safa moves on to the list of demands. “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, the trinket they mentioned.
“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.”
These demands made, Safa looks at each of you in turn, waiting to see how you will respond.
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Beezhul startles!
Thieves and Scoundrels!
Recovering her wits, she stutters the rest of the scare off "Tbth... Tbh... That looks like the Pathfinders we are tasked with the rescue of? But. Why are they sleeping? Is it a magical sleep?"
Then, this Safa person lists her demands while our hero takes mental note:
1) Bring ruin to the "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 a (silly) trinket
2) Acquire a brass stopper, a silver chain, and a cold iron container from the Overmarket and seek Raha Shul so to discover the purpose of these objects
3) Punish the hobgoblins of the Iron Ring for defiance. Slay Tadrun, the captain of the Swift Huntress. 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 burn the ship.
Beezhul's memory all but spent, she looks at the djinni, then at Kelamur, then expresses grave concern "You are asking me to kill to save others. No!" She turns around to leave. Safa will have to find actual thieves and scoundrels to commit murders and arson!
"Hmmmm." Kelumur grunts, as his hand moves to draw his hatchet but pauses at the moment just before gripping the handle. "And who are you....friend? And who is the one that commands you?"
The djinni turns to regard Kelumur. "I am a djinni bound to serve a cruel genie binder. I cannot reveal his identity to you, or act directly against his stated commands." Safa pauses for a few moments, then the smile returns. "Directly."
Recovering her wits, she stutters the rest of the scare off "Tbth... Tbh... That looks like the Pathfinders we are tasked with the rescue of? But. Why are they sleeping? Is it a magical sleep?" ...
Beezhul's memory all but spent, she looks at the djinni, then at Kelamur, then expresses grave concern "You are asking me to kill to save others. No!" She turns around to leave. Safa will have to find actual thieves and scoundrels to commit murders and arson!
Safa leans forward towards Beezhul, far beyond what any bipedal being could manage while staying balanced upright. The djinni, of course, merely has the idea of legs as part of the swirling energy in its lower half. "Your other Pathfinders are in my domain, unaware of the passage of time. I have done them no harm, and I intend to free them once the tasks are complete. I am not prohibited from doing this."
At Beezhul's refusal to accept this task, Safa's tone turns more serious. As the kholo moves to exit, Safa whirls around to block the doorway. "It is noble for you to feel this way. However, you may not refuse the task to slay Tadrun. My binder demands it, and if you do not, I may be forced to unleash my full power upon you. Then, you will join these others here." They gesture to their orb where the other Pathfinders are obliviously trapped.
"The Iron Ring is a hobgoblin organization of cruel corsairs," they continue. "They refused to trade with my binder, and he wishes to see them punished. Upon their ship are recent captives who I am certain he intends to sell away into some kind of servitude. My binder cares not for them, but I hope you will share my desire to see them freed. True, punishing Tadrun may serve my binder's aims, but hopefully this extra objective to scatter them and scuttle their ship is in line with your sense of justice?"
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Brimly blinks, then shrugs. "Well I never had a mission briefing from a floaty person before, that's a new one. I ain't one for spoiling feasts, mind you, and killin' for no reason, but are they bad folk? Folk that take slaves sound bad to me.
"Oh one more question, does your master person know we're talking to you? Can he see us, hear us?" "Floaty Safa, is there a way to free you in these little quests we got?"
"Oh one more question, does your master person know we're talking to you? Can he see us, hear us?" "Floaty Safa, is there a way to free you in these little quests we got?"
Safa chuckles at Brimly's question about whether their master is listening in. "My binder is an arrogant, foolish man, like so many are. No, he is not listening to us. He does not think he needs to. He believes that his careless commands are sufficient to get what he wants. He will get some, oh yes, but he will not get all. If you help me thwart him."
With a rueful smile, they float over towards Bloody Whispers, nodding back at Brimly, who also asked about freeing them from their bonds. "I have heard good things about Pathfinders before today, and it is clear from your desire to free me that those things are true. There is no way for you to free me from these bonds. That is beyond the power you have. I am touched by your concern. I have not felt this in..."
They shake their head, returning to the task at hand. "Of course, I can tell you more about these people." They provide some more information about those who Bloody Whiskers asked about.
Safa answers with disgust about Azam ibn Bashemi. "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!"
The djinni arches an eyebrow as they think of Raha Shul. "How should I describe her? Let's just say that she is a merchant in the Overmarket. Learn what you can of the true purpose of these items from Raha Shul, and do the right thing with them. I will say again that I have only been commanded to have you acquire the items." They smile their cunning smile again. "It is embarrassing to have been bound by such a foolish man."
Lastly, as to Zoha, they explain, "Zoha is a human with more than a touch of undine blood. He is a smuggler who has ways to move unseen across the sea. I am told he has helped many as he follows the ways of Sarenrae. He should be near the docks. He can help you board the Iron Ring’s ship."
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Beezhul struggles against the implied threat of an almighty being ironically bound to what claim she makes as "fools" - and with her last shred of obstinance, takes a wild gambit, pronouncing with as much authority as her frame can muster:
"Safa! I Wish myself Free from your Demands!" and rubs her belly.
Will it work!?
The djinni responds with melancholic laughter to Beezhul's attempt to wish away their bindings. "It only works like that in the stories, but again I thank you. I had forgotten the possibility of the kindness of strangers."
Xavier does some thinking about the possibility of an underground network that might be of aid to accomplish these objectives. He does not know of any off-hand, but perhaps once he gets out into this bustling city, the tell-tale signs of under-the-table activity might present themselves to him and he will have a chance to take advantage then.
Safa replies to Xavier, "If I had any way to assist you with an introduction, I would. However," they trail off and then, in the blink of an eye, they disappear from sight. Their voice comes to you from seemingly anywhere in the air around you. "This condition does not give many chances to make new friends. What I know about those I have mentioned to you is from observing them unseen. None of them would even know me if you told them my name."
This demonstration complete, Safa reappears in front of your group. "You have until sundown to complete these tasks in any order you choose. Then, return to the lodge. Remember what I have told you. I am on your side as much as my binding allows."
**
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Beezhul, wanting to avoid murdering in cold blood, nods quickly, tongue-sticking out of her mouth.
Her tummy grumbles.
She secretly plots her escape! Scoffing at the blatant hypocrisy of a bound genie trying to bind her to his own will - compounded by the audacity to complain about bondage!
"Okay, we will ruin Azam ibn Bashemi's party. But if you think I'm going to kill Tadrun and burn down the Swift Huntress for you, you got the wrong kholo!"
Hands upon her hips, she stands triumphantly defiant!!!
Safa looks at the defiant Beezhul with amusement, then a thoughtful expression crosses their face. "Hmm, I wonder..." The djinni floats around the room as if testing the boundaries of their bonds. "You may be in luck, brave kholo. It seems that my binder was a fool yet again, for he merely commanded that you defeat Tadrun for him, and only later, after he had completed his command, did he imply he would like for Tadrun to be killed."
They peer in at the kholo again. "So you know, burning the Iron Ring's ship, that one is not for him. That is for me. I would like for those slavers to receive a dramatic message to discourage any who follow in their wake."
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Sabrael, who has been quietly listening all the while to the genie and his companions - often with a soft, slight smile - nods gently and taps the haft of his staff upon the stone floor.
"My friends, my faith in you and the Pathfinders has been repaid ten-fold this day. It is well and good that you do not seek to do the bidding of this genial being's wicked master. Let our actions, then, be guided by the wisdom of Nethys this day - the wisdom to know when it is proper to be clever and kind, and when it is proper to be swift and without mercy."
He frowns slightly. "But let us take great care. The Pathfinders' influence in this nation is tenuous; they have only just been granted the right of a Lodge in Sedeq. If it were to become known that the Pathfinders had a hand in disrupting the tolerated practice of Qadiran slavery, or humiliated a noble, the consequences will not be borne by us alone."
Sabrael brushes away a lock of long dark hair from his eyes and looks to Safa, bowing his head deeply. "Honorable Safa, it is a gift to have met you. Before this day, I had read tales only of genies' wrath and cunning. It pleases me beyond words to know that a noble heart, a kind heart, can also dwell within your people. I will keep this lesson with me always - and as we work to disrupt your cruel master's bidding."
The priest of the All-Seeing Eye nods to Kelumur. "Let us go, then, and ruin a feast. For even nobles ought be humbled, now and then, just as we all will be humbled at our End."
Not far from the abandoned-before-it-opened Pathfinder Lodge, the feast hosted by Azam ibn Bashemi is taking place. It is not hard to locate. A substantial crowd is heading towards the area and gathered around it, with music and laughter ringing out far beyond the immediate area of this feast.
The party is taking place in middle of a sprawling public park, colorful tents surround a wide area filled with expensive pillows. You are able to gently nudge your way through the crowd to get a good view of this central area, just in time for a middle-aged Qadiran man with jet-black hair smiles widely as he raises his hands. 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,” he continues, his voice again loud and boisterous. Azam claps his hands, and the barren soil shifts and twists until water rushes in to create a perfect oasis between the tall palm trees. Many people in the assembled crowd applaud at the transformation.
“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.” With this declaration, he sits down on a large pillow behind him to prepare for his tale-telling.
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Kelumur grunts, turns to the party and whispers. "This tale will take no less than two hours. This would be the perfect opportunity."
Train in the art of stealth and hiding, the rogue looks for opportunities to remain secretive and cause of disruption by conveniently replacing things, or making them go missing. But obvious objects so that it causes multiple scenes.
Towards the edge of the area where Azam is speaking, Beezhul drops into the oasis and starts making a scene. There's murmuring from the back of the crowd as people turn to gawk at the kholo. Azam notices that he's lost the audience's attention. He tries to play it off, smiling and putting out his hands smoothly after the Wanderer finds himself in a bit of peril. "But that part of the tale will have to wait a few minutes while we refresh ourselves," he says.
With perhaps a little extra haste, Azam leaves his central seating area, leaving behind his oud as he goes to investigate the source of the noise. However, by the time he gets to the oasis, Beezhul has made herself scarce.
Kelumur senses his moment as Azam leaves. He could sneak up there while the crowd has turned to see where Azam is going and swipe the oud right off the pillow where the host has casually left it.
Brimly contemplates whether there's a space in this crowd for him to do a little demonstration on the proper technique for frying up monster parts.
Bloody Whispers takes a lap of the feast before committing to a location. The leshy overhears some excited chatter between two feast-goers. "Have you heard that the Twisting Embers are here? Azam owns their contract!" the first one asks. Her friend looks around conspiratorially, then replies, "I heard they're looking for a way to break the deal."
Directed helpfully towards a tent where these Twisted Embers are preparing, Bloody Whispers discovers that this is a troupe of ifrits. The leader introduces herself as Abina. Sizing up the leshy quickly, she asks, "Can I trust you to ruin our show?"