During your stay at the Grand Lodge in Absalom you've been invited to an audience in the Venture-Captain's office. The door is closed when you arrive, no sound come from the room.
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Gathered with you is a finely stylized elf, with well-kept hair flowing a short length down his back and facial hair. He has sharp features and a stern look, complete with eyes that seem to expectantly pierce through you and into your soul.
His attire is as utilitarian as one would expect for Society agents, but he still wears it cleanly. You get the feeling this guy doesn't generally get too dirty.
Great, they're not in right now. It would be nice if these invites were a little more specific on timing... the elf grumbles.
As they wait, he decided to get to know the others.
So, how long have all of you been with the Society? What's your specialty? As for me, I'm Darzus and I dabble in... dreams.
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An half elf dressed in a simple green suit enters the hall. Despite her common robe, her presence is quite extravagant. Iridescent, yet dark purple hair interwine around a childish face. Her round, green eyes exmine the enviroment, as if they're trying to breathe it up, in one single glance. Her look finally falls on the elf, and she appears to take a little time to observe him before answering.
It's a pleasure to meet you, Darzus. Dreams are...
Her voice trembles a bit and her glance darkens.
A very fascinating subject. I serve here just in recent times, and my matters are herbs and, uhm...magic.
She does not seem sure about the last assumption.
As she gets nearer you can notice a little sign on her forehead, like a glimpse of an arcane light, or the lines of a tattoo just clearer of her amber skin.
What about the rest of you?
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Joining the group is a young half-elf that gives a smirk as he looks around, before he lowers his hood to reveal striking red hair and emerald eyes. His cloak is forest green and he carries a exquisite long bow and a club.
"Well met. I am Teraren. I specialize in the bow and I have dabbled into some magic to enhance my bow."
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A rhytmic clicking noise can be heard from the corner of the room. A shy woman is fidgeting with what appears as a flintlock pistol, out of boredom and maybe with a grain of anxiety.
She is wearing a burgundy colored leather jacket made for cold, and a very utilitarian pair of heavy trousers. Big boots and a utility belt complete the look.
You can only tell she's an Half-Elf by her pale face, pointed ears and lack of the usual elven grace. Her dark hairs cover half of her face. She doesn't like to be on the spotlight.
It's not often that you see so many half-elves for a single job. I'm Asurielle, but everyone calls me Asu. Do as you please. I'll keep your back covered on this job, just don't stay on my line-of-sight.
She says this while looking at her pistol. She rises her volume and glances at Darzus:
Darzus, right? Please don't aim your armor-piercing eyes at me, or I'll need a ballistic protection.
You can see her smile, the slight grin partially covered by her hairs. She stops fidgeting and looks at the other party members, remaining in silence and waiting.
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There is a kobold with black and red scales sitting in the room. He is dressed in Chelish livery that clearly once belonged to a halfing; the outfit is too baggy for the wiry reptilian while the sleeves and pants legs are too short for his gangly limbs. For those that follow fashion, they would also know that the outfit is about four seasons out of style. He has conjured a ball of greenish liquid which he juggles back and forth between his hands as he observes the other adventurers come in.
"Huh...I thought I'd be going on an all kobold expedition again but this looks like the half-elf room. By the way, are you all related or something?"
He points at Darzus and says, "Are you their dad, taking your little whelps out on their first mission? I've heard you mammal types like to do things like that. No offense, but you guys have it easy. Life's a little different for us; the second I cracked out of my egg I was told I needed to find a job and my own place to live. Also, did I mention I grew up in a sewer?" the kobold prattles before realizing that he never introduced himself.
"My name is Maddox. Mordant is a nickname, but Maddox is my official name. But you can call me Mordy too, if you'd like. By Shelyn's beard, you can call me whatever you feel like. Whatever it is I can guarantee that I've been called worse and I'm not brave enough to do anything about it anyhow. You know, I think I'll stick with you folks. It feels like they wouldn't send such a sophisticated and dare I say, prepossessing group of dilettantes on an obvious suicide mission. So if anyone comes in here asking for me; I'll be hiding behind Teraren, since he seems to be the biggest one here."
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Darzus, right? Please don't aim your armor-piercing eyes at me, or I'll need a ballistic protection.
Ha! They do not pierce armor. Only souls and dreams. I suppose that can be dangerous as well.
He looks around the group and observes I see a lot of green eyes in addition to many half-elves. I was not aware there were criteria such as these.
He smirks lightly at this joke. This quickly disappears as he's taken aback by Mordant's statement.
Their... dad?!? My no. I don't have any children. Pretty sure not... He trails off into a mumble.
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A sizable human man dressed in a peasant's frock and apron, leans against the wall for support. A bandolier, holding a few tin mugs and several flasks, is slung over his shoulder. A rapier dangles loosely from his belt. A leather band around his neck waves through the handle of a small, wooden tankard, instantly identifying his chosen deity.
"Do you all have to speak so loudly?" inquires the man, one of his meaty hands resting on his temple. He heaves a deep sigh from his chest and says, "As for what I 'dabble in'--well, to be honest, I ain't one for 'dabbling' at all. I tend to get more than just my hands or feet wet. I prefer a full on 'dousing'!"
"The name's Moe. Have a last name too, but 'fraid it ain't worth too much, no more," he adds with a smile. "By Cayden, can't say my first name is worth all that much either, but its what I've got."
The doors to the Venture-Captain's study opens, and a man in his forties with a fine mustache politely gestures you to get inside. There are four chairs in front of the desk, looks like two of you will have to stand up.
In his usual terse manner, Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin requested an audience in his office. He wasted no words once the last invitee had closed the door.
Some of you may know a novice named Derris Jerval. Last night I gave him an important message to deliver to an associate of the Society, a Varisian businessman in the Docks named Guaril Karela. I received word this afternoon that the package never arrived. I need you to look into it.
My initial inquiries lead me to believe Jerval entered the sewers mere yards from the Grand Lodge’s walls. I’m worried for his safety down there and annoyed that he wasn’t able to get the message to Karela. I need you to go after him. If he’s well, slap some sense into him and ensure he delivers the message. If he’s been injured or gotten himself killed, recover the message and make sure it gets to Guaril Karela at the Pickled Imp, a curiosity shop located in the Docks—and get it there soon. I’m counting on you, Pathfinders.
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Maddox leans against an end table with his elbow, tipping the vase on it over. The kobold manages to catch it and gingerly sets it back while casually asking "Did you tell Jerval to go to the Pickled Imp through the sewers? I'm just asking because in my experience you surface dwellers usually prefer doing your traveling above ground."
Derris Jerval isn't one that really pops out from the crowd: young, lean, brown hair, hazel eyes, average height, white skin. I think he's Taldan, he's from Andoran if I'm not mistaken.
I didn't tell the boy to use the sewers to bring the parcel to its destination, but I'm sure he heard from other Pathfinders that the Society uses the tunnels beneath the city to move quicker and draw less attention on them.
Valsin takes a sip from a glass cup on his desk, I guess the boy wanted to impress me and show he had what it needs to travel the sewers and get my pack to Karela in no time. Foolish thinking.
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Huh. But it's not a requirement? I mean, aside from finding this "Jerval," we won't be expected to use the sewers generally? I mean, come on, eww!
He looks around at the others to see how they're reacting.
Do we generally expected to be impeded in our home city of Absalom, when delivering a simple message?
Th elf shrugs and gets back to real questions.
Well, do you have another copy of the message in case the worst has happened and we can't locate it or the boy?
I expect you will pursue any lead to find this missing Pathfinder and the parcel I entrusted him, and since as I've already told you that Jerval has been seen entering the sewers I think your best bet is follow his steps down there. The Venture-Captain seems a bit frustrated by Darzus' attitude. And no, there is no copy of the parcel, otherwise I would have entrusted it to one fo you and sent them to Karela while the others search for Jerval.
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The sewers...I've seen worst places in dreams.
Mumbles the girl, her voice high just enough to be heard from the elf beside her. She seems anything but annoyed to be sent in such a place. The tone of her voice almost assumes a kind of zinger directed to him.
After that quick action, she finally addresses to the Venture-Captain. She makes a quick. yet polite curtsy, and speaks more loudly.
Everything's clear to me, Sir.
Shall we finally go?
She appears a little nervous to stay in the room more than the necessary.
The young fool probably used the nearest entrance to the sewers, which is the one behind the Grand Lodge. Start from there, get the boy and the parcel, and bring that pack to Karela. Now go, don't waste any time.
The entrance to the sewers sits in a shadowy alley behind the Lodge, you find it pretty quickly. The manhole seems to have been used recently, but knowing that Pathfinders—and probably other people too—use the underground tunnels to move quickly throughout the city and deal in not-so-legal businesses that's not a big surprise. Once underground you find yourself in a pretty stinky, pretty damp, pretty dark tunnel.
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Oh well, I've been to worse places.
Asurielle whispers, kicking away a lump that once could have been a fishing net, probably used to haul something illegal.
As per habit, her right hand gently slides along the gun's handle, ready to draw.
Damn, I hope this humidity doesn't cause any problems with the primer... it would be awkward to misfire on the first shot. But hey, the rookie might just have tripped over a curb! No time for paranoia.
A slimy droplet falls on her left forearm.
Gross!
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The sewers...I've seen worst places in dreams.
Darzus shoots the sorceress a quick smirk, appreciating the specifics of her jab.
"Hey, I was raised in the sewers of Absalom! That's my neighborhood you're talking about. I don't go around disparaging whatever wretched little huts or tree houses you grew up in!" Maddox says irritably.
Yes yes, I look forward to the grandeur of the huts down below. The elf sighs. He knows once they're down below he'll be the least comfortable and struggle the hardest to be useful.
He steels himself as they enter, forcing himself to breath heavily and take it all in.
Oh, if the boy is asleep or unconscious when we find him... let me try something. Lead the way!
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"Ahh, smell that refreshing air! Turnips must be in season!" the kobold exclaims upon entering the sewers.
Maddox starts to look uncomfortable as he realizes that he is being pushed to the front of the group. "Hey guys...I'm not really much of a hand to hand kind of adventurer and to be frank with you, I'm not terribly good at spotting traps either. Maybe one of you folks in armor, or I don't know...one of the many elves and half-elves that are supposedly famous for their keen senses could consider joining me up in the point position? Just a suggestion, I guess."
A set of muddy bootprints that match Jerval’s lead through the winding tunnels, following a small rivulet of stagnant runoff in a solid stone passage. The flow ends at the intersection with a perpendicular tunnel filled with a mass of filthy water and mud. The footprints continue in the mud to the east.
Maddox scouts ahead for the group, but as soon he steps forward the floor disappears under his feet.
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As his ally suddenly disappears from sight, Moe checks his eyes. With the kobold still not there, he moves ahead cautiously and keeping his eyes on his footing.
When he spots the kobold in the pit, he tries reaching down and offering a hand.
"I hope you aren't hurt too badly. Nothing a good drink couldn't fix, I'm sure," he says, before adding, "You may have seen the size of the rats they have down here, though, perhaps, you should have trained your eyes more on the ground."
Maddox falls into the pit, hitting the bottom with his hunkers.
Suddenly something moves in the shadows of the tunnels, and before anyone can react bullets start flying in the air.
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"Ow! Something just hit me!" Moe cries out. Moe looks around to see if he can spot the source of the bullets.
Itentionally searching for stimulus is a move action.
Not spotting anything, he looks again.
The dimly lit tunnels are seemingly empty, only shadows move in the dark, but you can't tell if they're shadows of rats, monsters, or what else.
Teraren and Darzus spot two lizard-like creatures in the dim lit tunnels, each wielding a sling and a shield.
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Ah! I see them now down this passageway. They are some sort of lizardlings with slings. Does anyone know a language that such a creature would speak?
Now that he sees them the elf starts to shield his face, as he gets the visceral feeling that an errant sling stone could chip a tooth or bloody his nose at any moment.
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Carefully assesting the situation, Asurielle traverses the open trapdoor and goes on the opposite side of where Darzus and Teraren are.
You two! Hold your side and try to not get hit! I'll cover the other tunnel, someone help our lizard friend!
After reaching the new position, she tries to see into the other tunnel to check for more contacts. She gets ready for action, gun in hand, holding position and observing the darkness ahead, looking for movement.
While she looks around, she yells at the dark:
We are not here to fight, but we will respond with force if provoked again! Gosh, I hope these lizardfolks speak common... I don't want to start blasting in such a narrow passage!
The lizard-like creatures keep attacking the party with their slings.
Araal and Maddox up.
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"Bloody trap in the sewers! The kid ran into in kobold territory!"
Maddox looks up and sees that the pit is too high and the walls are likely too smooth for him to climb up. He fishes out his wand of infernal healing and taps his sprained ankle.
"Someone lower a rope!" he shouts up at his allies. Then he shouts in Draconic,
One of the reptiloid shouts something in the same language used by Maddox.
Draconic:
Darzus
Asurielle
Teraren
Moe
Red
Yellow
Green
Blue
Maddox
Araal