Absalom. The biggest city in the world, it's the heart of all trade and most religion across at least two continents, as well as home of world-spanning organizations like the Pathfinder Society. People from all around the world can be found in the city, no matter their ancestry. Here, unlike anywhere else in the world, it would not be considered any stranger to see a hobgoblin and a leshy arguing over the latest in Taldori Royal fashion than it would be seeing two humans doing the same.
It is also the most coveted of cities. Since it was first founded by the now-dead god Aroden some 4719 years ago — an event use as the starting point of the modern calendar — the city-state has been besieged more than 100 times. Most often these invasions were led by those seeking access to the Starstone, the artifact that granted Aroden (and a handful of others, since) godhood, which sits in the middle of the city in a cathedral designed by Aroden to test any who would wish to become a god.
Two of these sieges have happened in the last few years. Three years ago, there was an invasion of demonic fleshwarped constructs that is notable only because it resulted in the end of the practice of slavery in the city, as all slaves were granted freedom in exchange for joining the defence of the city. Lord Gyr, the city's Primarch, vanished around the same time, leading to whispers that someone wanted him out of the way, either to implement the new law or to oppose it. The Grand Council has yet to choose a successor, with the former captain of the city's First Guard serving as acting Primarch for the time being.
Most recently, the Lich known as The Whispering Tyrant besieged the city only two months ago in the most dangerous siege since before the city had walls. He was barely defeated, but not destroyed, and many suspect he will return eventually. There is a buzz of tension in the air as people worry that the next invasion may be successful.
As you go about your business, each of you is approached by a messenger, who pushes a tiny roll of parchment into your hands. "Pleasant day," is all he says.
On the parchment reads the following message:
Meet me at The Crimson Coin, in the foreign quarter, at sunset. Show the bartender this note.
A Potential Employer
--
Aeral, the Elven Bard, had just finished up telling a story to a small group of young Halflings and Gnomes at a small park in the Foreign Quarter when the messenger approached. She responds "And to you." before reading the note. The note intrigues Aeral, and - sensing that this could be an interesting story in the making - resolves to meet this 'potential employer'. The rest of the day is spent on a mix of errands, storytelling, and a foray into the Docks district to pick up news from sailors.
The elven noble took the offered message with a pleasant smile and a coin for the messenger. Upon reading the note Elisdrel’s expression became one of curiosity, “A new job?” It had been over a month since he had a task being the diplomatic face for a local merchant. Things had soured and he was almost out of coin. This change of luck something he needed.
With the note being his entry, the elf could only guess he was being hired by reputation rather than by face. The day was spent learning what he could about the tavern before creating a magical disguise when it was time to enter.
A youthful halfling makes his way down one of the many bustling streets in The Coins district, struggling a bit under the weight of a large basket full of freshly picked berries. As Dipp's hands are quite occupied the messenger is likely forced to leave the little roll of parchment in his basket, among the berries. "Oh uh, thanks. And you too!" He manages to respond before the courier scurries off.
Dipp quickly finds an alley to slink into, set down his burden and read the message, muttering under his breath as he does. "The Crimson Coin huh? Sounds a bit sketchy but..." Dipp shrugs, tucks the note into his pocket and goes about his business.
The berries were meant for a little bakery in The Coins run by Dipp's parents. After making the delivery he spends most of the day helping out around the bakery. An hour or so before sunset he leaves the bakery, apologizing to his parents for not being able to help close up and making his way toward the Foreign Quarter and the Crimson Coin!
The Crimson Coin is a typical tavern in most respects — alarge, open mead-room, a balcony running around a second floor with rooms for rent by the hour, and a large fire pit and long serving bar — except for the middle of the room. There is a deep earthen pit in the center of the mead hall, roped off to protect drunkards from falling in too often, where there seems to be two armoured women competing in gladiatorial combat. The crowd is cheering them on, while off to one side there is a private area where an enormously fat man is watching the competition with great interest.
Over by the bar, a half-orc in gleaming armour watches the fight with obvious distaste, while a little goblin in similar armour is passing a note to the bartender. The bartender nods, indicating one of the rooms upstairs, and both of them go to make their way up the stairs.
Aeral enters, taking in the area - it's not her first time here, of course, though she comes here just to pick up stories. The fights draw most of the attention here, not wandering Bards. She walks up to the bartender at a steady pace, just after the Half-Orc and Goblin depart "Good evening." She puts the note down and then slides it over to the bartender, before adding "A glass of wine, if you would be so kind." and then turns to look at the fight - not exactly the sort of entertainment Aeral typically enjoys, but it is something to watch.
The stench assaulted the elf as he entered into the room. The scent was one of blood and sweat from the combat within the pit. Taking a shallow breath, the odor of the patrons within assailed his senses as well, along with the ale spilled upon the floor from the constant cheering. As he moved within the room, he gauged the various patrons, pausing long enough to take several moments to assess the sparing match continued cheering on one combatant. Approaching the bar, he offered the woman’s words before letting out a small laugh trusting that his magical disguise of a half elf citizen had taken hold.
“A glass of wine, my da used to make jokes like that too. High class elf and all, queen of the tavern eh?”
Leaning against the bar he gestured to the bartender, “An ale for myself and my lady friend.” As he spoke, he would place a few coins on the bar while adding, “Looking for a friend as well might be with one of the ladies of the hour.” Sliding the paper slightly under the coins, while retaining it within his hand.
Dipp shuffles his way inside, his ratty and many pocked greatcoat still dusted with flour from his work earlier in the day. He immediately halts in the entrance-way. That's right, the Crimson Coin was one of these sorts of bars. He falters for a moment, thinking about just turning around and going to back the way where he came.
Instead, another patron entered the bar nearly trips over him and he's shoved inside. The decision made for him he begins to trundle his way over to the bar proper, finding himself transfixed by the fight currently in progress as he goes. He's so focused on the fight that he thunks his head into one of the unoccupied stools.
"Ow ow ow." He rubs at his head and mutters something to himself about being a clumsy fool before leaping up onto the bar-stool that happens to be adjacent to the pair of elves. He offers them a cheery little nod before waving to the bartender.
"I'm uh, actually here on some sorta business." He says once he has the bartenders attention. "Probably best to stay sober, oh uh but there is this." He adds, unfolding the scrap of paper from his pocket and sliding it onto the counter.
The bartender looks at each of their notes as if checking coupons. Nodding, he points to a room upstairs, without actually saying anything.
When you arrive in the room, you find the half-orc speaking to a powerful looking human enclosed befitting a nobleman, while the goblin sits on a chair swinging his legs like a small child. The man is on a chair in front of curtained windows, and there are a number of other comfortable looking chairs in a semi circle around him.
"… my own mission, but I give you my word that my squire will serve you ably as long as your mission is noble. The Waybringer is with him, and he won't let you down."
The man nods, shaking the half-orc's hand, "Of course, thank you." As the half-orc leaves with a friendly nod to each of you and a wave to the goblin, the human smiles to you all and says, "Ah, welcome! You're all here. Excellent. Please, sit down. I'd like each of you to introduce yourselves, so I can be sure each of you are who the messages were intended to reach. You were all chosen because my people say that none of you are in the employ of Cheliax and can be trusted, so please do not lie and give me false names or other false details."
[color=blue]"Hi! I'm Zar, I'm one of Apsu's Champions!"[/color] says the goblin excitedly but with a friendly tone so strange among goblins, still swinging his feet. [color=blue]"But I'm not a Paladin, so I can be sneaky if I gotta be."[/color]
Aeral finished the glass of wine in the tavern below, just shaking her head at the half-elf, before she went up to the room. Upon entering the room, she takes a seat. "I am Aeral Zhelen, storyteller, servant of Desna, and a relatively new arrival to this city.". She looks over to Zar, a look of mild amusement on her face, "Hello, Zar. Nice to meet you. If you don't mind, I would love to hear the story of what brought you to the service of Apsu after this meeting is over.
The Half Elf would slowly shake his head watching everything which was occurring, “You speak of what you desire, but it was you who called us was it not? Perhaps it might be better for you to begin with who you are and why you called us here.” His gaze following after the half-orc hoping to place him. As he spoke he moves closer to the chairs appraising the human more closely.
Dipp enters the room with a wave before fixing a weary eye on the goblin, but is quickly disarmed by his cheerful demeanor, and hops into one of the free chairs. He smiles and nods to both Zar and Aeral as the introduce themselves, then quirls an eyebrow at the half-elf when he fails to do so.
"Well, uh -I- aint got nothin' to hide. I'm Dipp Evergrain and I guess you could call me a druid if you were so inclined. Suppose I just try to do my part lookin after all the plants and animals who call this city home."
He looks down at himself, then tries to brush away some of the flour still clinging to his tattered brown greatcoat.
"Oh uh, and I help out at my folk's bakery from time to time, nice ta' meet you all."
Zar smiles happily to Aerol and nods emphatically, [color=blue] "Okay! After." [/color]
The man nods to each of the introductions, "A pleasure to meet you." Then looks to the half-elf and nods a little, "An understandable caution. My name is Goodman Hugen. I'm the First Harbourmaster and a member of the High Council. I need… How shall I put this? I need independent and deniable investigators to investigate a potential threat to the city." He smiles — though it doesn't reach his eyes — and says, "The last mercenaries I tried to hire turned out to be Chelish agents, so I'm sure you can understand my caution. I'll tell you the rest, once I'm sure my notes didn't go astray."
“So, you need someone you can pretend you did not hire if things go badly and those you praise if things go well.” The Half-Elf shakes his head, “I do not enjoy being seen as disposable.” A small smile plays upon his lips, “So I am assuming the need is great and they reward will be even greater.” A small bow is given as the illusion fades the elf’s gaze remaining upon the human, “Elisdriel at your service.”
Goodman Hugen smiles at that introduction, and says, "A pleasure to meet you. You are, indeed, who I was expecting. And yes, if you're successful, the reward will, indeed, be great. I have access to a number of magical items I can offer, in addition to the usual mercenary fees for dangerous assignments."
Twisting a stone on his ring, he drops the zone of truth, and then sits down himself. "As you may or may not know, many of the noble houses in the city have loyalties that extend to the outside world. It's generally an open secret, everybody knows about it but nobody talks about it. None of the houses have more than one Council seat, and even put together they are outnumbered by the rest of the Council, so the balance is maintained."
"House Tevineg is the house I am most concerned with at the moment. With the election of a new Primarch approaching, Scion Lady Xansippe has begun some power plays. A number of members on both the high and low councils have begun to vote with her on an alarming number of proposals, and her voting block continues to grow. Faster than is natural."
He smiles thinly, and says, "I want to know how she's controlling them, or information that I can use to sway them back. I, personally, do not want to see the city conquered by the devil-worshiping slavers in Cheliax. But, if we don't do something soon, that might just happen."
He pauses, now, and says, "Before I go on, any questions so far?"
"That's a big risk yer askin' us to saddle for ya," Korso strokes his long mustache as he draws himself out of one of the room's corners where he'd been silently watching the exchange. With a glance at the others to make sure none of them wear guard colors, he adds, "I've broken into some of the bigger manor houses 'fore. But what yer askin' is a great deal bigger in scope. You'd be daft to think our fee wouldn't match, wouldn't ya?"
Korso leans back against the window frame. "Still, I've no love for them devil-lovers. Not in this city."
The young man, with eyes that betray his elvish looks, has been very quiet for now, looking a bit out of his depth here. But he agrees with Korso about he devils. "Devilry in the council, is bad, that it would return slavery to the city even worse." A glint of terror passes through his eyes for a second, fading as he continues. "I don't mind some danger, stopping or stomping trouble in the docks for pay is my trade, mostly stopping thievery. No offense meant." Silas makes a slight nod toward Korso while wondering if he seemed a bit familiar. "But ... this is politics, I haven't been to the Ascendant Court since Moth-" Silas breaks off then continues, " - for a long time. I don't think I'd fit in well, except as a guard or other servant."
Silas follows up, "Oh and I'm Silas Zan, mercenary and well now, since about a month ago ... I'm called by Cayden Cailean to work his will in the world; I guess you could say I'm an accidental priest now." Silas says the last as though he can't believe it himself.
From the back of the room, Wyl speaks up “I too have no love of devils Mr. Hugen.” Moving forward to take a seat “What I do love is coin” taking a sip from his drink. “and danger.” Looking around the room, eyeing Korso then speaking to Mr. Hugen “What happened to the first group you hired?”
"Wyl's right," Korso does a small double take as he realizes that one of his childhood friends also answered the call.
And that he owes the halfling.
A lot.
"We'll have ta know what happened to yer last group o'spies n' cutthroats 'fore it all went sour. Can't be watchin' our back while tryin' to do yer work."
“I am guessing either killed or turned the other side.” Elisdriel said shaking his head his hands moving to clasp behind his back, “Sadly it seems I for one have no choice. I have no desire for the alternative.”
“Foiling a Chelish plot is worth any risk,” opines the woman who introduced herself as Iandra Thistlerun earlier. Hoarse-voiced and a little burly of build, she has short dark hair and fairish skin bearing its goodly share of minor nicks and scars. “Throwing their machinations right back in their faces, preferably with interest, is the only way to make the bastards understand we want no part of their blasted empire.” Having said her piece she looks sorely tempted to emphasise her words by spitting on the floor, but somehow she manages to rein herself in.
Shifting in her chair and grimacing slightly as it creaks beneath her armoured weight, Iandra glances at the half-elf called Silas when he mentions his divine calling. “Funny how that works, isn’t it?” she says with a small, good-natured smirk. “He’s really the sort of god who finds you, not the other way around.”
She turns back to Goodman Hagen. “You said you’re looking for deniable investigators. How deniable precisely are we talking?”
Goodman Hugen smiles, and says, "The team I tried to hire before will not be an issue. They aren't dead, but I assure you they will not escape, as they want to stay that way. It seems Cheliax is not very forgiving of betrayal, even if it's magically induced."
He looks back to Iandra and says, "Completely. Only the bartender here will know you're working for me, and he will be your point of contact. If you get into any kind of trouble, I will not be able to help you unless I do so completely anonymously, which is unlikely in the best of circumstances. You will, of course, be compensated accordingly."
"Now, as to your methods. That's up to you. My suggestion would be, you could try to earn your way to a position of trust with one of the Houses or council members involved, though I would warn that House Tevineg itself has ample magical defences against spies. House Ahnkamen would likely be a better target, as they were known to despise Cheliax until very recently, but have recently started voting with Tevineg."
"Alternatively, there are a handful of members of the low council who have been influenced that might be vulnerable to robbery to look for the information, which I can recommend if that is the approach you wish to take it is riskier, however. I have another private room reserved if you would like to discuss it among yourselves before coming to a decision."
Turning his gaze to the others the elf states, “Then shall we be off to the other rooms to discuss our skills and determine how we might best proceed?” as the group makes their response, he uses the time to appraise them closely as if judging each of their worth.
Silas nods in response to Iandra, saying, "Yes, so I've been told, I only hope I can live up to his expectations. A priest of the Drunken God, mother would be so mad..."
After Goodman's Hugen's briefing, Silas agrees with the mysterious Elf's suggestion, "I think that wise we need to know something about each other if we are to work together. Once we leave here, if we accept, we can only depend on each other."
Once everyone is settled in the new private room, Silas opens with, "I said, what I can do, mostly earlier; I can fight, have a bit of healing skill, some spells, mostly doing with healing and minor tricks. Some have told me that I am good at listening to people and persuading them. Oh! And uncommonly, I can see in total darkness... mother was the kind of Elf with that sort of vision. Since I've lived most of my life on the docks, I suspect that is how the First Harbormaster came to hear of me."
Silas pauses a moment then says, "I feel that this -more than a job- must be taken, I think I see my patron's hand in this for me." Silas fiddles for a moment with his cheap emblem of a tankard. "But I'm not one to pressure anyone to take such risks. Very risky, risks. Who will join me? Oh pardon me that was too soon, please all speak your mind."
Korso leans leisurely in the new room and cleans between his teeth with a pick.
"I'm a second story man n' thug, as it were. Ain't as good at the first as some, n' decent 'nuff at the other." He gives a nod to Wyl, knowing the strengths of his friend, but not willing to reveal what Wyl might not want revealed.
"Anyway, if the money's right, I'm game. Just don' know how much good I'll do 'round the fancy-types."
The halfling nods sipping his drink "Yes, it’s good to know who has your back when the job goes south."
Once we are left alone in the new room " The names Wyl and while I don’t have anything as fancy as spells and magic I do have a way with getting into and out of places I shouldn’t be in…" raising his mug to Korso “If the coins good, I say we take Mr. Hugen job...it sounds fun"
Iandra just nods when Goodman Hugen reveals the group will be on their own should push come to shove, not truly having expected a different answer.
“Just…don’t overthink it,” she advises Silas on the subject of his faith once they’ve temporarily taken their leave of their prospective employer. “I won’t claim to be an authority on the subject, but does Cayden Cailean really strike you as the kind of god who has it all worked out ahead of time? And if he doesn’t, why should you?”
In the private room afforded the group, she looks at everybody else in turn. “I grew up a slave labourer in Cheliax,” Iandra bluntly admits, “and no one lasts long there without picking up a bunch of skills. Me, I’ve learnt to deal with people by talking to ‘em, sneaking around ‘em…or sticking ‘em good,” she adds, patting the rapier thrust through her belt. “Probably best at that last part, to be honest, even if there weren’t many opportunities for it in Cheliax.” The woman suddenly grins. “And, yeah, I can call on some divine magic courtesy of the Lucky Drunk too. It’s not much, but it might come in handy.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Anyway, like I said earlier, getting to take the fight to those Chelish scum is all the reason I need to sign up for this. The money’s just a bonus.”
Having followed the group into the room, the elf makes himself comfortable sitting in a chair his gaze moving over his companions, measuring them as they speak.
“I am Elisdriel a minor enough of a noble that I have not apparently been sought to be bribed with power. I have on occasion worked with various people, make the proper introductions, handle things in a quite discreet way. I am not one for combat and I may know one or two parlor tricks, but I am really just another pretty face that does a great deal of talking.”
Letting out a heavy sigh while brushing a hand through his hair the noble continued, “It seems we really have one decent option in this affair does it not?”
Wyl looks over to Elisdriel and jokingly says while offering his hand "My lord, I would like to take this opportunity to offer my deepest condolences on their offense." Looking around the room and in a more serious tone "I'm sure the devil lovers will soon regret their oversight, to be sure."
Earlier, Silas smiles at Iandra and replies, "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."
In the tavern room, Silas frowns a bit, looking puzzled at Elisdriel, "Begging your pardon, mi'lord, but I am ... sure I do not follow your thoughts. An approach to the greatfolk might work with your status and skills, and we could be in your service. Or we could go the less law-abiding route and try to get evidence that way. I not sure what we would find though, the kind of conspirators I would deal with could not write anything down and I guess noble one would know better than to do so. Still I'm not versed in intrigue or in being unseen so I have little idea of what useful task I can do."
"Wha'if, an' this is jus' me spitballin', Wha' if we present as a haughty noble n' his loyal- but a bit below decks- retinue lookin' for work in a new city. We could be tryin' to get allies in th'city n' be a bit of a boon for anyone lookin' to do nefarious intrigue."
Korso looks to Elisdriel in hopes he understands the big thug before glancing at Wyl to translate.
Zar, the little goblin Champion, has been quiet since they moved to the new room. But, he grins, and says to Korso, "Good idea!"
Then he gets a thoughtful look, "He said he can't help if we get in trouble. Maybe it should be secret that one of us is in the group. I can hang back, prepare help if you need it or do other stuff to help. Like maybe set up a hideout, just in case?"
As if in explanation for not wanting to go with them, he adds, sheepishly, "I'm a bad bad liar. But I'm good at helping."
“That could work,” she says in response to Korso’s proposal. “Being associated with a known quantity means having half a foot in the door already. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if we got asked to prove our worth first somehow.” She frowns. “If so, it better not be anything too distasteful.”
Iandra nods at Zar’s point. “It’s important to have a safehouse of some sort. Any of you locals got some suggestions? Ideas who to talk to about that sort of thing? I’m not from around here.”
Sitting in his chair the elf noble listened to the words spoken. A small nod given as he listened to Silas and Korso answering the cleric first, “If we were to steal a communication, what recourse do you believe shall be taken? Those we oppose would seek us out. I know not how well they are connected, but at the very least they could use the law as tools to oppose us as well. A risk which may not pay off as we may gather anything.”
A small smile plays upon his lips, “But Korso’s suggestion is one I believe, being in the midst of the nest of vipers. As the give us tasks we will know what they are up to, who they are connected with. We shall have constant information. The largest risk is our hearts. We will be tempted to truly join them. I pray that the servants of the righteous." His gaze moves between Korso, Iandra, and Zar, “Might keep us focused on our task.”
Sasha responds to Elisdriel, "I kinda thought that was what I said. As to stealing a communication the idea is not to be noticed. Best if it was merely read and returned so not to be missed. I gather our uhm, more illicit friends, are skilled in such."
"Pretending to be in service to the wicked is a option of course. If these conspirators check on us, they may check where we come from, some of docksiders know me, I follow the Divine Drunk, very few know of my recent boon. Still many followers are mercenaries, and if as Iandra says, tasks are not too distasteful, I could be just a bit greedy."
"Hmm, I hadn't thought of betrayal within us; I admit to looking for the better side of people. I guess the question is, for those who's loyalty is bought with coin; are you honest mercenaries? Do you stay bought? I certainly encourage all to stay on the good side, but a better argument is do you want devil law in this city? Hellknights are not known for going easy on criminals after all."
There is a knock on the door, and the bartender pokes his head in. "I'm afraid Goodman Hugen was called away for an emergency meeting of the Grand Council. But he asked me to tell you that if you do wish to impress Lady Neferpatra, she has been searching for the remains of one of her soldiers that were killed during the fight with the Lich. A cousin of hers, I believe. She might be grateful if you can recover it, and we have a good idea where it is."
Setting down a small pile of papers on the room's table, he adds, "He had less information on other council members involved, so you may need to find your own way to approach them, but here is a list of the ones he was most sure was being influenced, and information on that lost soldier."
"You only need to let me know if you decide not to take part, or if you need any other information. Otherwise, it's best to just go about your plans."
He gives them a few moments in case they want to ask him something, then departs again.
--
The council members most likely involved:
- Scion Lady Neferpatra of House Ahnkamen, First Lady of Laws (High Council)
- Scion Lady Darchana of House Madinani, Archdean of the Arcanamirium (Low Council)
- Lord Druld Shieldfall, Master of the Smith's Guild (Low Council)
Silas inquires, "Pardon me, but exactly what do this titles mean, what are their duties? Do we know anything about their friends, foes, or those that are both in some ways? Anything else that may be useful that I don't know enough to ask?" Silas shrugs, "That last is unfair to ask but I know little of greatfolk matters."
Iandra raises an eyebrow at Elisdriel. “I’d hope anyone who got invited here was vetted enough to make sure it’d take more than some dirty work to get them turning their coat.” She snorts. “But, sure, I s’pose some divine guidance won’t hurt.”
She considers the bartender’s suggestion, then shrugs and looks at the others. “We could do worse for starters,” she says. “Ingratiating ourselves with one of the highborn without having to do anything questionable? Sounds like a pretty good opportunity to me.”
Even so, Iandra takes a few moments to think about the names on the list, and tries to recall whether any of them are known to have had dealings with the underworld at some point.
As he rose to his feet the elf would respond to Isandra’s words offering a small shrug of his shoulders, ”Even as we would seek deception and our enemies would hope to have us properly looked into before we put an end to their plans? Even so our patron has stated the first group was Chelish agents and even if that were not so power may corrupt.”
He falls silent once more as the Barkeeper enters into the room nodding in agreement to her words his gaze moving to see the list of names in case, he might recall anything which may prove useful.
"Lady Darchana, we believe, once had a romantic interest, but that didn't happen because of Lady Neferpatra's interference. We haven't been able to find out who that romantic interest was, but rumour has it that it was Scion Lady Xansippe. All we know for sure is that they publicly dislike each other even though they serve on the same committees. Lady Neferpatra is in charge of all law enforcement in the city, and also heads the committee in charge of making laws. Lady Darchana serves on the criers committee, but mostly she focuses leading her magic school. Lord Druld really doesn't have much interest in government, except in representing the interests of the local blacksmiths. Until recently, when he's started voting with Lady Xansippe."
"I'm afraid that's all the information I have for you."
“Point is,” she tells the elven noble, “if someone’s rotten enough to turn on their comrades in the first place, even the gods can’t do much about it. In my experience, anyway. Gotta have something to work with, yeah?”
Iandra considers the scuttlebutt offered on the ladies and lord. “Foiled romance, huh? That’s something worth keeping in mind. I’m sure Darchana would love to get back at Neferpatra for that one.” She looks at her new allies. “For the time being, though, my vote is for finding that cousin of Neferpatra’s.”
Silas nods, "Either we trust each other or we fail before we begin." He shrugs. [b]"So yes the finding the fate of her cousin is a good start." Silas frowns, "Hmmm, fighting a lich? Body missing? That's an unsettling combination. We should take special care with this, how should we begin, if all are in agreement?"
Since it seems that you come to a decision, the bartender says, "The soldier was killed while fighting in one of the watch towers near the edge of the Grasp, which is the area where the undead army was defeated. It's a few hours ride from the city. Even if he was raised again, he's almost certainly still trapped within the tower. He wore a distinctive gold pendant, with an engraved cat head emblem. You should be able to recognize him. Good luck."
The elf nods his head agreement to the words spoken by Silas not wishing to echo that he to is more than willing to seek out the missing cousin, “At the very least if he is an undead monster, he is not a poor one.” From his expression his attempt at humor a stretch even for his own tastes.
“Let’s get to it,” Iandra agrees, her chair almost groaning with relief as she pushes herself to her feet.
“Actually…” she then says with a look at the others, “could anyone spot me a gold piece? If we’re gonna be tussling with the living dead, I’d like to bring a weapon that’s less pointy and more, uh, clubby.”
Silas shrugs and says, "Good ... lack of point there. To spare not much but I can live for a few weeks on some remaining silvers, here is my life saving such as it is." Silas spots Iandra a gold piece, the only one he has.
“Cheers, friend,” she says, giving Silas a grin. “I’ll pay you back first opportunity I get.”
The notes from the bartender lead you towards one of the towers on the edge of the Tyrant's Grasp, the area of undead activity that surrounds the place where the Lich was recently defeated.
Once you're outside the walls of the city, civilization seems to disappear and all that's left is a barren war-torn landscape known as the Cairnlands. There's only just barely enough hilliness to the landscape that vision is limited while seeming not to be, giving the illusion of a flat plane with only various siege castles sticking out of it here and there.