Despite the fact that you haven’t even graduated the Pathfinder academy yet, you have been summoned to a lower-level meeting room in Skyreach by none other than Ambrose Valsin himself! What he has in store for you, no one knows!
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A thin but muscular man in dark breastplate enters the room and looks around. A tattered red robe lies draped aver the armor showing little bits of the dark metal here and there. A thick wooden shield lies strapped around is back. "Looks like I am the first one here." He says to himself in a thick Chelaxian accent. He waits for some of the others before going in to meet with Ambrose Valsin.
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Tall, muscular, and hairless skin the color of obsidian--based on what can be seen of his arms and legs between the shell motif steel splints and walrus leather that comprise his armor--Isurus appears to be a warrior. His bare feet fall quietly on the floor, but the trident over his shoulder bangs against his armor and telegraphed his approach long before he arrived at the antechamber. He carries the twin to the trident on his back in his left hand like a walking staff. His face is covered in a damp, dark crimson shemagh hoods his head and covers his neck. A faint blue glow emerges suddenly from within the hood and phosphorescent blue spots pulse and strobe periodically from his hands and feet, along his limbs, and toward his trunk.
"Hello," he says with an obvious accent. The smell of blood and sea water radiates from him as he draws closer.
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In her long flowing blue & yellow brocade robes, Kyra comes striding down the corridor, after Alaric Salisfer and Isurus, that she knows from the meetings with Eando Kline's faction.
She thinks that, of course it will be the Vigilant Seal that is called upon for anything important!
But she does wonder what necessitates summoning non-graduates, and if her teacher, Sorrina Westyr, will also be there?
She touches her enameled silver pendant as she comes up to the two that are waiting outside the door.
Bowing deep before each of them:
"Greetings. May the Everlight illuminate this meeting. I am Kyra."
She glances at them, looking for symbols or signs of their religion...
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A dark-haired woman arrives just as the group is exchanging greetings. Her ears have the typical tilt of half-elven heritage, and she's dressed in clothing of a sensible design, but exceedingly fine, with embroidery heavy on the lapels and sleeves of a jacket cut for adventuring.
"Charmed." She flourishes a quarter bow and continues, "Samna Tranth, I don't believe we've met."
She idly snaps open a fan and begins pensively fanning herself, "I don't suppose this is a private graduation ceremony. What do you think the old fellow wants from us?"
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A square-jawed man with a thick neck stomps into the room after Kyra. He wears patchwork scalemail and has thickly scarred hands and a sneer on his face. "You lot know a man named Valsin? Magistrate told me that the sod secured my release, though who knows why. Must be desperate if he's looking for help from the prison yard." The man cracks a couple knuckles on this right hand. "Or maybe he just knows where to find some muscle that won't snitch when the hammer comes down."
He chuckles, looking around the others. He stretches his neck to one side and it pops audibly.
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Isurus pauses in consideration long enough that Samna has time to enter and bow before he responds to Kyra's introduction. The same pattern of bioluminescence flashes and strobes across his exposed skin before he responds. "I am Isurus of the azarketi."
The large man stands his ground as the boisterous felon stomps into the room. The rusty smell of blood grows stronger for a moment and the inexplicable sound of water splashing violently teases from the edge of hearing. His luminescent spots also flash a different pattern of yellow and red. "Yes," he answers Jaxon but refrains from expounding.
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Before looking at Jaxon Richter, and eyeing him warily:
"Greetings! So, you are a prison guard?"
"Oh, dearie, if only." He gives her a wink. "Name's Jaxon. I spent the last two years locked up in the Merchant's Quarter." He spits on the ground even though they are inside. "A small time crew hired me on for some muscle and when it all went sideways, I was left holding the way out for them. But you know, even crooks got some respect for the guy who doesn't just run out on his mates. I got hired to give them a way out, and not a one of them got touched by the guard!" He laughs.
He suddenly notices the glow of patches of Isurus' skin. "Whoa. You, uh. You light up. Azarketi? What's that?"
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Isurus pauses while looking at Jaxon. His chest rises and falls in a breathless sigh. "Surface dwellers often know us as Low Azlanti," he answers, voice accented like those of New Thasilon, and then pauses again just long enough to wonder if he has finished his answer. "Or gillmen." The lights illuminate a faint and pale white in a single strobe moving from trunk to hands and feet. He pushes the damp hood off of his bald head revealing a pair of violet eyes and fine features of the Azlanti. "So the Pathfinder Society does grow its family from all sorts of people."
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A small rustle of feathers sounds from outside of the open room that's quickly followed up with a small knock. After a second a curious bird head pops in, it gives the room a quirk of their head as they take in the scene. After a moment it disappears for a second as she finally walks into the room.
A short 5-foot something, the tengu is dressed in a cloak of molted fledgling feathers bleached to a white, with a few red ones interspersed. On her head is a rather jaunty looking hat. Her feathers flex excitedly as she wrinkles her eyes in the tengu equivalent of a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you all! This is going to be exciting! Getting called to do something before we even graduate!"
She rustles something out from under her cloak pulling out a package wrapped in paper and string. "Sorry for being a little late, these tarts took longer than I expected to cool... I sometimes forget that I'm not in the Rimethirst Mountains anymore. Anyways, my mother sent some preserved frostberries which are hard to get here." She unwraps the package and reveals a bundle of pastries with a pale white-blue jam in the middle.
She makes her way around the room with a handshake, pastry and a " Dyner Inazuma, and you are?" for everyone.
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In all the excitement and rustling a small almost finch sized bird wakes up from the hood of Dyner's cloak. It gives a big yawn, surprising for one with a tiny beak and then flits up into a nice cozy spot on Dyner's hat.
Seeing him move, it's clear why the little one would have been hard to spot, in addition to the inspiration for Dyner's cloak, the white and speckled red of the bird is exactly the same.
As he settles into his new perch he takes in everyone in the room and immediately seems to take a disliking to them. He glowers at who ever proves to be the closest with a look that can't help but give the impression he's plotiing how to murder the recipient. Which might actually be threatening if he wasn't the size of a softball and positively fluffy.
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Kyra eyes Jaxon:
"If I may ask, you were tried, convicted... and released lawfully? You are not an escapee of some sort, are you?"
Looking at Isurus' colors, and then eyes and fine features, she smiles:
"I had yet to meet one from below the waves. Greetings!"
Kyra bows to the new arrival:
"Well met, Dyner Inazuma, I am Kyra and-- oh, thank you!"
She takes a pastry, and happily tastes it.
Glancing up at the small bird, she offers it some crumbs.
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Towering over the tengu, the azarketi looks down at the bird roosting on Dyner's hat with an inscrutable expression. He hesitates before taking the offered hand--anticipating the reflexive pull away--and then grips the tengu's clawed hand with his own webbed, cold, and damp hand that comes with the sensation of tiny teeth pricking at one's palm.
"Thank you for the gift," the azarketi says with a green and blue strobe of the phosphorescent spots on his face before taking one of the pastries. "I am Isurus."
"To answer your question" Comes a booming voice from the other end of the hall. "Yes, I did secure Mr. Richter's release legally." The owner of the voice is a tall, fabulusly mustachioed man whom all of you recognize as Ambrose Valsin (if only from the paintings of him throughout the grand lodge.)
"Well, technically a Senior Pathfinder, an Abdaran Cleric named Ben, dotted the 'i's and crossed the 't's. But he did so at my behest. Seems the magistrate was a tad . . . overzelous in charging Mr. Richter and may have forgotten one or two obscure maximum sentencing laws on the books."
He then turns to Isurus and in passable Alghollthu does the culturally appropriate greeting to him (bowing or salute or whatever.) Probably the best rendition Isurus has seen done by a human. "Isurus, an honor to finally meet you. I'm glad our pathfinder family has expanded to include Azarketi."
"And to the rest of you, also welcome. Well, I've jabbered on long enough, so I'll keep the rest of this brief. Seems some of our field agents have been reporting . . . problems recently that stem from a lack of training. Seems some of our swords graduates never attended a single scrolls class, or our spells graduates never cross trained with swords! We have reports of pathfinders attacking first and not using their heads, and some people being completely unprepared for combat when it IS necessary. To that end we are initiating some cross-training before we are allowing graduations now.
“You’ll want to go see each of the deans at your convenience. In case you’ve forgotten, that would be: Kreighton Shaine, the Master of Scrolls; Sorrina Westyr, the Master of Spells; and Marcos Farabellus, the Master of Swords. I place you in their capable hands, and may fortune be with you all.” With his delivery complete, Valsin makes way for the exit.
“Oh... yes, you’ll find the deans in their respective offices. If
you don’t know where those are, then just ask around.”
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Isurus smiles and nods his head at Ambrus' greeting. "We of the deep where the sun does not reach have customs even more difficult for others to replicate than the mistborn on Kortos, but I genuinely appreciate the attempt to make me feel welcome," he says and replicates the blue inward strobing of his luminescent spots that he displayed when greeting Alaric and Kyra.
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Once the Venture-Captain departs, he turns back to the others. "I will follow the lead of those familiar with the land. I fear that I may be a hinderance in most endeavors designed for surface dwellers."
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Kyra raises an eyebrow at being "also welcomed", but bows deep before Master Valsin.
She moves up to put a hand on Jaxon's shoulder:
"'Tis good that you are on the path of redemption! Congratulations!"
Glancing at Alaric:
"All must be done, and all shall be done, so I am fine starting wherever. I will follow your lead."
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Jaxon just stares at Kyra for a moment. "Yeah, good for me!"
He smirks and turns back to Ambrose Valsin. "Well, if you got me out, then you're the boss. I ain't never worked for no Pathfinder gang before, but first time for everything right? But, uh, you want me to just take some classes? Sure, boss. Maybe I can drop some street knowledge on these kiddos. Show them what it might take to get things done out there. And how to watch each other's backs. That there is the key. You make sure no one messes with your crew and you punish anyone who tries. Hard. Next time they maybe let you walk through. After a few lessons like that, word gets around. Trust me."
Jaxon nods to Alaric. "Lead the way, hoss."
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Glancing up at the small bird, she offers it some crumbs.
Tarragon looks at the offered finger and crumbs with distrust, but slowly reaches forward and nibbles them off the finger. After a second the intense hatred in his eyes dials down an intensity.
However, as Isurus takes Dyner's claws hlin his hand, the bird glowers deeper and you swear he'd pull a knife if he could.
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Dyner bobs a bow back at Kyra and watches her familiar as best she can, making sure he doesn't make a nuisance of himself. "That's little Tarragon, he's mostly harmless, just protective. Feeding him is a great way to build trust!"
She gives Isurus's hand a shake her feathers puffing up at the odd sensation of tiny teeth on her claws. Subtly wiping the hand to quell the feeling she gives the Aza... Azake... Isurus a happy eye wrinkle. Pleasure to meet you too!"
Dyner perches on a seat as Valsin comes in, intent on the man as she pecks at a pastry of her own. She nods at the mentions of not having cross training and how some people haven't been quite prepared. She'd almost been killed once or twice, especially by another Pathfinder (admittedly not in her right mind at the time). "More training is always good! One of the deadliest things back home was hunting demons underprepared."
She sits, nibbling at the pastry listening to the back and forth on where to go and then how to get there. She pipes up at the mention of getting around. "I know where the kitchens are! And my classroom and the best route between the two... But not much else."
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"I mainly know the whereabouts of Sorrina Westyr, but, I must add that technically, she is not the Master of Spells, Aram Zey is.
Sorrina is just filling in while Zey is taking a leave of absence, or on sabbatical, or... something.
It is unclear what he is up to, but what is clear is that Zey will be back at some point, and will resume his post when he does."
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Jaxon takes a pastry from Dyner, looking a bit surprised. He wasn't used to people just giving out free food. "Uh, hey, thanks. I'm Jaxon, like I said. Cute little bird you have there too, Dyner. Here you go, Tarragon..." He takes his finger and smears it with the jam before holding it out for the little bird. The big man is oddly patient and gentle as he tries to feed the little finch.
He speaks without looking at the others as he is watching Tarragon. "So, she's a substitute? I don't know much about spells. Kinda out of my expertise, but seems like it would come in handy in a pinch. Sometimes you need a surprise up your sleeve."
As the party wanders around they find an middle-aged elf in red robes walking towards them. He seems to have the energy and demeanor of a much younger elf, though he occasionally stops and winces at a phantom pain in his body.
"Are you the new students sent for cross training!? Excellent, excellent, I was hoping to catch you before you got to my office. I'm master of Scrolls, Kryton Shaine, and we aren't headed to my office. Come, follow me!"
He hurries the six of you along and outside of skyreach tower and then outside the grounds of the grand lodge itself to a large open-top coach that is waiting at the entrance. He takes a seat next to the driver though turns around to face the rest of you who have to cram into the bed of the coach.
"Sorry I didn't spring for a nicer coach," he apologizes. "But this was the only one I could find that seats seven plus the driver. Anyway we’re off to a facility in Absalom that the Society rents out and uses for training purposes. The location was formerly the domicile of a conjurer with some rather unpleasant plans. That got all sorted out, of course, but it’s still conducive to summoning magic!”
As Shaine continues his explanation by going into detailed history of the building’s previous owners and their relatives, the carriages come to a halt outside an abandoned locksmith’s shop in the Coins district of Absalom. Shaine exits the carriage and quickly unlocks the front door, gesturing to a dusty glass‑fronted cabinet in the main room, which opens to reveal a descending staircase.
The Master of Scrolls steps briskly down the stairwell into a worked stone dungeon. Ambient light comes from two glowing patterns on the floor, but Shaine doesn’t pause for these curiosities. After a short trip northeast and down another flight of stairs, he halts in a long chamber containing more of the glowing circles. Two circles rest at either end, with others in nooks along the northern wall. The circles come in five colors; red, blue, green, yellow, and violet, with each of the five nooks featuring a different color.
“This whole dungeon is really an interesting place, and it’s worth exploring in full sometime, but that’s not what this trial is about. No, I’m not interested in seeing you untangle traps and unlock doors. This isn’t about what you can do or your physical skills. You see, I'm receiving reports of field agents just attacking anyone and anything they see. Many so-called monsters you find out in the wild are sentient creatures and can speak, we at the Pathfinder Society are interested in making friends. After all, who would you rather do business with, some friendly guys who know how to defend themselves or dangerous ne'er-do-wells who will attack without a moment's notice?
"To that end, I’m grading you on what you know. Each of the northern circles is a two‑way teleportation device. Four of them, all but the green one in the center, are currently active. Stepping inside an active circle brings you to a matching circle elsewhere in this dungeon, and waiting in the vicinity of each of these is a summoned creature. Four creatures, of four different types. Each of them has an amulet you have
to retrieve for me. But this isn’t just a bruteforce test of forcing them to hand it over! No, no. This is the Trial of Scrolls, and we do
things with more... finesse.
"So, I will give you a clue. You will find the corresponding creature and then try to get that creature to hand over the amulet WITHOUT VIOLENCE if possible. The creatures have been instructed not to just hand over the amulet, and they won't tell you what kind of creature they are. Bring me the amulet of the right creature, and you get a point. Bring me the amulet of the wrong creature and you loose points. Once you bring me an amulet I'll give you the next clue. Any questions?"
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"Remember, any creature who is sentient can make their own choices. There are stories of angels turning from the light or fiends turning from the darkness, and even if that is not the case, temporary . . . unsavory alliances have been known to do more good than harm. Oh, and I just turned off the green circle. It doesn't work right now, we didn't need it."
Shaine clears his throat and recites a line he has obviously memorized.
"“A being of law and order has one of my amulets. It’s one of the least of the inevitables, aeons bound tightly by rules and constraints.”
He then gestures to the teleport pads. "Yes, I've tested them many times, they are safe. Well, hop to it! Find the right creature, get their amulet, and return here for the next clue."
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Samna baulks at the idea of splitting up. She never studied very hard in her Scrolls classes, and can't tell an aeon from a b-on.
"Oh, I think it's best if we stick together. We have a lot to teach each other, after all. Blue portal first? It brings out your eyes, Jaxon."
Samna nudges the ex-con playfully in the ribs.
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Dyner perks up from her spot in the back of the room. "How about groups of two or three? Last time I went exploring places together the group nearly killed each other.... Mind you the wailing spirits that confused everyone didn't help." She wanders over to the blue portal and takes a curious look at it. She glances up at Tarragon and asks, "Tarragon, Mind testing this for us? Oh and if there is any stick or mud let us know, please. Apparently Jaxon wants one?"
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Tarragon rouses from his pastry crumb and jam induced coma, happy that two of the loathsome being his master insists on being around were kind enough to feed him. He gives a small shake and streches before he flits down Dyner's arm. He stops there a moment and raises a claw to his eyes before pointing it at Isurus first and then Alaric, Samna, Kreighton in order, clearly saying 'I'm watching you. Touch her, you die!'
He then hops down and into the blue portal.
The bird disappears for a long second or two, then returns aparantly unharmed. Through the emotive link Dyner gets that Tarragon felt this was beneath his abilities. It jumps up onto her shoulders and seems to make some sort of hushed cooing sound into Dyner's ear.
Seconds later Kyra strides in.
She immediatly finds herself in another chamber with a Blue circle behind her. Ahead of her is a creature roughly the size of a moderately sized book. It is humanoid, with curly horns, a lovely purple swirling pattern and bat wings, and seems to be impatiently stamping its foot on an alter, but does wear an amulet around it's neck like some sort of giant pendant.
It stamps its feet repeatedly on the alter on which it sits and seems annoyed. "Well?! Is it time for me to go?! This is HUMILIATING! At least you can talk, as opposed to that mute bird! I hope you can talk anyway!"
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Kyra's one hand goes to her scimitar, the other to the angelic ankh, the symbol of her Goddess--
--and, without answering the creature, she spins around and rushes onto the circle, hoping it will transport her back.
"Of course! It had to be me, that entered the chamber of a quasit, a demon-fiend the Abyss!
Being unsure of how it will react, and wishing to be rid of what I see as a threat... I believe it better someone else initiate discussions!"
Kyra teleports back just fine.
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Dyner holds up a hand an moves to stop Kyra from going into the blue portal for just a second as she waits for Tarragon to get back. "Hold on let's make sure that Tarragon is safe first."
As soon as the bird is back Dyner gives Kyra the go ahead. She seems to fluff up in embarrassment at the muffled noises from Tarragon, but gives him a pat on the head and part of a pastry as he angrily huffs back into the hood.
"Seems that the portals are safe there's something behind it, we should make sure Kyra is okay."
Dyner then steps into the portal herself.
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--Kyra waits, as Dyner wishes, for Tarragon to return, before stepping into the portal.
On the other side, as she turns around and is about to return, she sees Dyner appear:
"Let us leave, let us leave...", she says, pointing at the evil creature.
And she hops back through the portal.
Back with the others, she shares her information.
"Agreed, this is not the one we need to deal with first."