Your boots squash with fetid water as you plod through the Puddles. A thick fog hangs in the air, seeming almost to caress the flesh with an unnatural chill. As you stand outside the Soggy Piper in a foot and a half of brackish brine, you try to recall what was so damned important to demand your presence in the half-flooded slum during Absalom’s rainy season. You remember your meeting at the Lodge just a few hours earlier with your Venture-Captain, Adril Hestram.
A bear of a man with only a few teeth remaining in his head, he motioned you into the meeting hall with a casual wave of his grizzled hand. The human captain outweighs most of Absalom’s half-orcs, and though a layer of beefy blubber coats his frame, those of you who have tangled with him in the Lodge sparring ring know that beneath this thin veneer of fat lies nothing but solid, steely sinew. Adril’s wild beard wags to the ponderous shake of his massive head as he examines a scrap of ancient
parchment on the table before raising his eyes to greet your gaze and speaking:
“Come in then, friends, and thank you for answering my summons so swiftly. The society is in need. An old and quite penniless historian, a bespectacled wag-beard by the name of Yargos Gill has recently made a discovery in an old archive that we have a great interest in obtaining: an ancient codebook, left behind in the wake of one of Taldor’s many failed attempts at invasion. This several-hundred-year-old text would prove an excellent addition to our collection, and must be preserved.
“Yargos makes his home in ‘The Puddles,’ Absalom’s poorest district, suffering from a well-known reputation as a haven for lowlifes. Following an earthquake ten years ago, parts of the Puddles now rest below sea level, resulting in frequent and untimely flooding. Those who can afford not to live there—don’t.
“The district is the stomping ground of pimps, harlots, addicts, knifers, and hoards of unseemly derelicts. It’s never been a kind place, but recent reports reveal some new nameless terror on her waterlogged streets. Several persons claim to have seen cloaked, skeletal-like figures marching through an unnatural fog. Ill tidings indeed. Tracking down Yargos is now a priority—--lest some yellow-toothed thug cut him down, or one of these strange wraiths carry him beyond the pale. Find
him, fellow Pathfinders, and find the codebook. Your exploits will be recorded in the Chronicles if you succeed.”
The memory fades as a fresh deluge of cold seawater rounds a bend in the lane and assaults your knees. After searching for Yargos at his favorite eatery, the Soggy Piper, you learned you just missed him. According to the Piper’s staff, a gang of dangerous young tattooed toughs arrived ahead of you. They grabbed Yargos and several of his friends from their dinner table and dragged them to a nearby cliff at the edge of the
Puddle District. The watch was called, but they will arrive too late, as they often do in the Puddles, when they bother to venture there at all.
It is early evening, the first Wealday of the month of Desnus, an old man is about to face some awful fate at the sea cliff known as Torsen’s Maw, and you are no closer to finding the codebook Adril sent you for.
That very morning you received a missive from your superiors:
Andoran Faction Handout
Fellow Free Citizen,
Warm greetings on this cold Desnu morn. This city’s chill and squalor does not agree with me, and each day I see the Council bow
to slavers and oppressors, my heart sickens. We must do better, we can do better. It all begins with you, my friend.
We have become interested in a man named Yargos Gill. Although he’s not much to look at, Yargos is an important voice
of the common man in Absalom’s underclass. He is well educated, but he prefers to live among the downtrodden in that
wasteland called the Puddles District. He’s also more virtuous than most give him credit for. The Eagle Knights of Andoran
have identified Yargos as important to Absalom’s future destiny as a free and independent state of the people. If you find Yargos,
above all, make sure you keep him alive. Please do your best to aid him thereafter, and secretly pass along the message that the
Eagle Knights will be there for him when he needs them. Purport yourself well and do nothing to besmirch our reputation as
beacons of freedom. One day Yargos will be vitally important to the future of Absalom. We wish you to gain his trust so as best
to aid him in his cause.
Many thanks for your assistance in this matter. As always, I am in your debt.
Sincerely,
Captain Colson Maldris
Cheliax Faction Handout
Her Majestrix’s Most Loyal Servant,
Asmodeus’s dark blessings upon you. Your service to his smoking altar does you great honor and advances the glory of Cheliax. Your
devotion has not gone unnoticed, and I must say I am intrigued by you. I have a task of dire import—I have chosen to entrust it to you.
Her Majestrix’s interest is piqued concerning the reports of strange undead roaming Absalom’s notorious slum—the Puddles
District. Early reports suggest that these strange mist-walkers are animated not by necromancy alone, but by the power of oaths given
during their former lives. Our diabolic patrons decree these strange undead merit further study, in case this knowledge leads to a
new source of power over mortal souls. Your mission is to obtain an intact skull of one of these undead assassins and secret it back to
Cheliax. You must also uncover just what was the oath that these undead killers took.
If you succeed, a slew of fresh souls will be tied to Asmodeus’s great purpose. As always, keep your mission in utmost confidence—tell
no one. Your service to the Dark One is best done in whispers and shadows. Report back to me when it is done, and I shall reward you,
perhaps with an invitation to my next exclusive party... or better yet, a private audience in the boudoir. I think I might enjoy that.
Achingly Yours,
Paracountess Zarta Dralneen
Osirion Faction Handout
Honored Subject of the Ruby Prince,
I trust this correspondence finds you well. As always, you have the gratitude of my ancestors and myself for your continued
service to Sothis. Dark times are upon this city, and undead walk the streets in the misty hours of the night. Worse, a spectre
from our past also rears its head.
Centuries ago, Osirion’s food supply was plagued by a horrible poison called Gut Wither, a war-manufactured toxin brought over
from Qadira to further weaken Osiron’s delicate agricultural base. To protect the populace, the then ruling sultans waged a lengthy
campaign to ensure that Gut Wither was stamped out and the secrets of its creation were destroyed. Our seers have advised that
whoever these undead, mist-walking assassins within Absalom are, they somehow have obtained a chest containing a small supply
of Gut Wither, perhaps left over from a forgotten age. I’m asking ask you to track down their supply and bring us a vial of this terrible
concoction. The famine days cannot return to our gloried land.
In All Sincerity,
Amenopheus, The Sapphire Sage
Qadiran Faction Handout
Servant of the Satrap,
Trade is such a fickle thing. It is like the tenacious relations of a man and woman: they touch, caress, and hope to form a lasting bond
borne out of a single night drunk on passion. Absalom is the best lover Katheer has known in a long while. Trade with the city keeps the
flow of gold into our Satrap’s coffers strong and steady. Sadly, a recent development jeopardizes this most profitable relationship.
Our agents suspect that the appearance of strange undead skulking through the mists of the Puddle District in Absalom bear
relation to an incident called the “Silent Tide,” a failed Taldan invasion plan. While the Silent Tide is Taldor’s embarrassing debacle,
the secret truth is that our satrapy also made a tidy profit off of the entire episode by supplying weapons to an outfit called Black
Echelon, the Taldan saboteurs hidden inside the city. At the time, this seemed a wise and profitable venture, paving the way for trade
with our often-enemies to the North.
It would be best if our part in this invasion stays buried. Given Qadira’s renewed economic interests in Absalom, it would be
embarrassing, to say the least, to be revealed as a historic enemy of the city. With your help, this embarrassment will remain Taldor’s
alone. Cover up the evidence of our involvement. If these specters still carry weapons from our lands, be sure to destroy as many
as you can. Do not draw attention to yourself by recklessly destroying them all. If you can make them all disappear,
quietly, that will serve our needs as well. As always, you will be compensated; the Satrap showers the loyal with gold.
Kind Regards,
Pasha Muhlia Al-Jakri
Taldor Faction Handout
Agent of the Empire,
Your rarified services are once again required. I shall not bore you with obfuscation or frivolity. We have acted against Absalom
on myriad occasions and failed with each passing stroke. Apparently this new terror of undead in that ever so deplorable Puddles
District is a remnant of one of our more infamous disappointments.
The undead’s weaponry, distinctive curved sickles, match the sickles once used by Black Echelon. Black Echelon was the rather
ostentatious name of our hidden agents and saboteurs ordered to attack Absalom from within its walls as part of the “Silent Tide,”
an embarrassing and ill-conceived invasion plan we hatched several centuries ago. In advance of the failed attack, we hid a secret
cache of magic wands somewhere within the heart of Absalom for Black Echelon’s use when the time was right. As the Silent Tide
turned out to be an utter boondoggle, the wand cache was never claimed. We believe Absalom’s authorities never uncovered the
cache and the valuable wands remain hidden, their location now lost to time.
With this return of Black Echelon from beyond the pale, we are calling upon you to keep an eye out for any clues as to the
whereabouts of the wand cache. Relay your findings back to us so that we can send a second team to recover the wands. It is believed
that a map to the wand cache was hidden on the last page of a codebook that contained the secret signals to direct the Silent Tide
invasion. If you can find the book, steal or copy the last page and bring it to me.
Do so and you shall be suitably rewarded.
My Sincere Gratitude,
Baron Jacquo Dalsine
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Quioxti stared down at the cold salt water pooled around his knees, "Bah, now I remember why I've never set foot in this wretched part of the city. These socks are ruined. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to come by good Chelaxian silk?" With a disheartened sigh he looked up, taking in their surroundings. Unconciously, his hand fiddled with the hilt of the sword that easily hung at his hip.
Finally, he turned to his partners, "So, any of you good folk know where this Torsen's Maw is? The sooner we can find this bookkeeper, the sooner we can dry out. And the sooner they can start writting our names in the Chronicles!"
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He looked behind the group as a loud crash issued forth from within the Soppy Piper. "I think a little friendly banter between mates is the least of our worries around here," he remarked, "We're just as likely to get a shiv in our backsides from a random knifer as we are to find poor Yargos." Turning to face the others, he found that they had already struck off in a direction he hoped was taking them to Torsen's Maw. Unwilling to be left behind in this forsaken district, he began splashing through the water as he rushed to catch up.
You manage to track the sage up a cliff. Six brash young toughs covered with tattoos of vicious, snarling dogs are prodding four terrified older men off the edge of the cliff into the sea. The prisoners are shackled together in a line with heavy chains, which shall surely drag them to the sea floor in short order should they tumble from the cliff’s edge into the churning waters below.
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Gregor to go.
Quioxti, could you help me with this ecuation?
Attack + 6 = 1 (bab) + 2 (dex) + 1 (masterwork) + 1 (weapon focus) + 1 (???)
[ooc]No problem. ??? = trait. My heirloom trait grants me a +1 trait bonus to attacks when I'm using that specific sword. I do not receive that bonus when using any other Aldori dueling swords though. Also, the threat on those swords are 19-20/x3, so if someone managed to walk into that attack, it should be a 18-point crit (assuming we're just multiplying the damage).[\ooc]
The thug in charge of throw the hostages down the cliff took the initiative, trying to kick the first hostage. If that hostage falls down the cliff, the rest would follow him, because all of them are chained together. But, when he was going to perform his action, he felt a curved elven blade through his chest. When Torillan took the blade of, the thug felt to the ground.
The rest of the thugs begins to war cry. The two nearest engaged with the elf. But Torillan was ready for it and dodged the two blows of the spiked gauntlet without problem.
Another two of them engaged with Quioxti. The duellist parried the blows and killed one of the thugs with a graceful movement of his weapon.
The last one goes for the girl, but Gregor intercepted him with his rage and his warhammer prepared. The mighty blow of the dwarf left the thug set-in the ground, without breath.
Torillan fights the two thugs with graceful elven blows and hurting one of them in an arm. The wind that flows up the cliff seems to be dancing with the elf in his battle.
The other thug perturbs the elf "dance" with a little cut in his skin.
But that cut is avenged by the arrow that impales his chest and throw the thug down the cliff screaming. The four chained men could see how they would end if those heroes hasn't showed up in the last moment.
Quioxti dodges the blow of his rival, and make a maneuver that end with a cut in the dirty face of the thug.
The two remaining scum sees his comrades dead and flees as fast as they can.
-Iomedae blesses you all! -the old man talking seems to be Yargos, the sage you were looking for- You have save us, but at the same time you have save all Absalom too!
The other three men ask you desperately to remove his chains.
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As a second victim falls to the swordsman's blade, Quiotxi turns to face a fresh opponent. He's surprised and somewhat disappointed to see the backsides of the last of the ruffians. "Aw," he murmurs to himself as he sheathes his sword.
Turning to the chained men Quiotxi drops his pack at their feet and begins to rummage through it. "I like a good compliment as much as the next mate - and you were in a spot of trouble," he says to the man matching Yargos's description as he extracts a set of lockpicks, "but lets no over do it. Those thugs weren't much more than unskilled goons. A disappointment really. Now then, lets see what I can do about these chains." He leans in closer to examine the lock.
Disable Device:
You set them free with the key you find between the corpses.
-Thank you, my friend. But... how did you know we were in troubles?
The old man helps the others to get rid of the chains.
You have used the key to set free the four old men. Yargos tell his friends to return to their homes, and the three old men flee the places.
-My name is Yargos Gill. I'm a historian. -he removes a few dust from his clothing- Tell me, who are you? Who sent you? I couldn't believe that you save us by chance. Could I?
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"Ah, Mister Gill," Quioxti addresses him with a flourish, "Your rescue is by no more chance than that of your brief imprisonment I suppose. We are Pathfinders, quested to located you on behalf of our Venture Captain so that we might learn more of a certain discover you seem to have made recently."
Putting his arm around Yargos's shoulder, he steers the man away from the cliff area, "Perhaps we can discuss this matter some place a little more...hospitable?"
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"I say we find a nice tavern with a dark corner to talk, and maybe some wine...wine would be good..."
Silana then turns to the rest of her group of Pathfinders and smiles broadly.
"You know, this is getting to be more fun than I originally thought it would be, all the fighting and intrigue. I think I may grow to love this job!"
Silana looks around, a quizzical look on her face.
"May I lay claim to the Chains? You never know when a good chain will come in handy!"
Later, in a dark and dirty tavern...
-A great danger menaces our beloved Absalom, my friends. We can't stay here any longer... -the waitress, a girl of a beauty not according with the place he works in, brings the drinks to the table and interrupts the old historian- Eh... thank you, my lady. Well, as I have told you, there is a big danger trying to devour Absalom. [b] -the old man is visibly worried- [b]Eight hundreds years ago, an immense Taldorian fleet was located at night around the city of Absalom. They were waiting for some signals from the city. Signals made by the infiltrators. Those infiltrators had to destroy the alarm systems of Absalom from inside the city and alert the fleet to begin the attack.
He drunk some milk from his jar and continued with the story.
-However, the infiltrators were discovered and slain, and the fleet was destroyed by the port defenses. But the menace wasn't finished with this actions. The crews and the infiltrators was wearing some enchanted stones called Binding Word. That magical device forces the user to end his task no matter what. Do you know what this mean? -the old man's voice was desperate- They are still waiting!
He calmed down a bit in his chair.
-I know all of this because I read it in the book I found. A codebook that tells what signals are the invaders waiting for. And the one who possesses the codebook, posses power over the invader fleet. A fleet with an undead crew. And... the worst new is... I haven't the book. Those thugs trying to kill me were the War Hounders, the new recruits of Nessian. Nessian is a smuggler king in this part of Absalom. And he knew about the fleet and the codebook. He send his men to stole the book and kill the witnesses.
-So, my friends, we have to end this now! There is no time to loose! The signals could be performed right now! -he ends his jar of milk and gets up.
Yargos stares puzzled at the elf.
-Boy, did the waitress steal all your attention? -he sits again- I have told you! Nessian's men stole the book and wanted to kill us,the witnesses. -he gets up again- Come on, sons! There is no time to loose!
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"I'm looking forward to meeting this Nessian character, I'm thinking I'm going to have to have a few sharp and pointy words with him at a distance of around 60 feet or so."
Silana drains her wine, and wipes her mouth very unlady like.
"Do you at least know what the first signal is? I mean any clues would be worth their weight in gold. You must have read the codebook at least once, didn't you?"
Silana quickly counts her arrows, making sure she has enough for the adventure she is likely to soon be journeying on.
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Quioxti flashes a smile, accompanied with a wink, at the waitress as she sets their drinks on the table. He holds his mug for a long moment as he watches the attractive girl move off to gather the empty tankards of another table. Finally he takes a long draw from the vessel.
Suddenly he looks about the table as Yargos and his fellow Pathfinders begin clamoring to their feet. "Hey, where's everyone going? Didn't we just get here?" Yargos is halfway to the door as Quioxti downs the rest of his mug in three large gulps and stands up. He tosses another wink in the waitress's direction as she turns to watch her customers leave. "So a stolen code book, huh?" he says to no one in particular as he follows towards the egress, "I suppose we need to be stealing it back then."
"Lead the way!" Quioxti calls to Yargos, although the old man gives no indication as to having heard him.
Yargos freeze just after open the door. He is staring at some place in the horizon. He is pale and his face shows horror.
-The... the first signal... -then he looks at you while pointing something in that direction- Look over there! It has began!
You can see a red light flashing in a distinctive pattern from the top of a distant building, deep in the city.
-Nessian! He’s signaling Black Echelon—the undead! Six flashes of red—I remember that signal... By the gods! That’s the granary! Nessian has sent those monsters to poison the granary! C’mon! I don’t know how, but we’ve got to stop them—we’re the only ones who know what’s happening.
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Quioxti comes to a stop behind Yargos and bends his neck to look out the door and in the direction the man is pointing. At first he sees nothing. A moment later, sure enough, a beacon of red flashes rythmically from across the city.
"Where's the granary from here? Perhaps we should head towards the beacon and keep them from sending more signals. I'm not sure I want to be running all over this city putting out fires."
Quioxti looks at his companions for input when he notices that most of the tavern patrons are now looking in their direction. With a gentle shove, he nudges Yargos out onto the street and ushers the others to follow. As the last one out, Quioxti turns to the crowd, "We're off to save the day!" With a wave of his hat and a final wink towards the barmaid, he pulls the door shut as he backs out of the establishment.
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"Well, off we go, point the way, and please give me warning if I need to shoot something, range is easy, its point blank that's hard."
Silana laces up her boots and readies herself toward the door, looking dubiously at Quioxti.
"I'm tempted to buy you a mirror, Quioxti, maybe the virtues of more of the women folk would be safer if they had your reflection to compete with for your affections"
Silana laughs heartily, making herself feel more at ease and relaxed, lowering the tension she was feeling.
As you approach, you find an eerie cold fog has suddenly descended on the adjoining streets and alley ways. When you arrive at the massive granary, you find the three guards posted to protect the food depot are already dead.
-No... they are already in... -he looks at you with a desperate glance in his old eyes, then, he continues in whispers- If they poison the granary, Absalom will face massive starvation in the coming months.
The massive door of the granary, just in front of you, has been already forced open.
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Doors forced open, wood splinters littering the floor, Silana draws her bow, readies an arrow and peers into the granary.
"I've got your backs," Silana says quietly, her voice little more than a whisper. "Shall we enter?"
Silana awaits her comrades movement before moving in herself, allowing people with more proficiency in close combat the opportunity to shine, and letting her acquire targets easier, without fear of close combat.
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Quioxti quietly pulls his sword from its scabbard. With a nod of acknowldgement, he takes a position near the left side of the entrance. Without a word, he peers into the depth of the granary.
Perception:
Following Gregor's lead, he steps inside, the point of his blade leading the way. He tries to keep his steps light, listening for signs of intruders while masking his own presence.
Stealth:
Before you enter the big destroyed door, Yargos stops you.
-I'll wait you here. I'm too old for this. And I don't know what will you find inside this building. The invaders was humans, but now... I really don't know what they are. And remember, don't let them use the poison. Is a poison called Gut Wither. It's deadly, believe me.
You enter the main door of the granary. Torillan notices a bloody trail in the floor leading to one of the two big doors, the one which is opened already.
The granary is lighted up by the oil lamps that's located in the walls, so humans doesn't have any problem to see here.