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Lunaea is feeding many small slips of paper to Nightsong, who cocks her head and reacts a little differently after each one. While chattering on to Brodey about all the new things she's learned in the library, she suddenly stops, having caught a glimpse of... something... different about his sword.
She gets up and looks more closely at it. This sword looks... I'm not sure, enhanced somehow. Sharper. Stronger. Your grandmother would be proud. She touches it with her finger and a drop of blood instantly wells up.
Stepping back to get a better look at him, And you... both faster and more alert somehow, even stronger. That monk training must have been something else.
Carefully avoiding getting any blood on the scrolls, she goes back to her ritual. We've both changed, that's for sure. I wonder what my parents would think if they knew.
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Lunaea returns Tyraneus' greeting with warmth and openness. Well, now it appears we have the sun, moon, and stars in the party. She smiles and explains the reference to Lunaea and Brodey's patrons.
She is a little more outgoing and radiant than usual, very happy that all ended as well as it did and still feeling a bit of Suliana's spirit inside her banishing any ill effects of her near-death experience with the Dragon. She has traded her winter robes for tropical garb of a layered, lightweight material, shimmering in subdued colors of silver and grey.
With a flash of light and a stomach-churning shift, the cool, saline air of Absalom collapses into the stifling, wet heat of the Garundi coast. Within moments, sweat begins to ooze from your pores as the fetid stink of the local climate envelopes you like a damp blanket.
The scroll in Aram Zey’s hands crumbles into dust, its magic spent. The Pathfinder Society’s Master of Spells removes his hat and begins fanning himself. “All right Pathfinders, welcome to the blistering hole that is the Mwangi Expanse. Any of you who bother to keep up with your Chronicles know that the Society has an archaelogical expedition working in the Terwa Uplands, about 80 miles northwest of our position. Of course, I doubt if more than half of you read anything but dirty poetry, so allow me to sum up: the Azlant Ridge site shouldn’t be there. There are no known Azlanti sights in the Mwangi Expanse, but here we are. It may be the best-preserved evidence that the Azlanti at least visited the Mwangi Expanse. A servant of Angazhan called Ruthazek the Silverback King claims the site, too. His troops have laid siege to it and our people are starving, dying from disease, and running low on ammunition and personnel, which is where you come in.”
Zey points north through the treeline, to where a ragtag city of boardwalks and wooden buildings straddles a swampy, red river delta. “Your first stop is Bloodcove.” He chokes out the word as if it insulted his mother. “The Azlant Ridge site needs supplies, and Bloodcove is the nearest trade port. They need 2 tons of food and clean water, five crates of arrows and crossbow bolts, and clean dressings for wounds. House Cartahegn is your best choice as the Society works with them occasionally. We already arranged payment to a caravan leader named Raimondo Scevola several weeks ago. Make contact with him to carry everything north. Also, look for a man named Senzer somewhere in town. He was an alchemist funneling potions and information to our team in the Uplands, but he went silent a month ago. You need to find out why and get that stream of potions flowing again.
“Don’t think this will be a simple trip to the market. Bloodcove is a pit founded by pirates and run by criminals—scum with no sense of achievement or appreciation for arcane advancement. Even worse, it’s a stronghold of the Aspis Consortium, which loves nothing more than perverting and profiting from Pathfinder discoveries like Azlant Ridge. Keep your heads down and do nothing to attract suspicion; perhaps adopt a disguise. Normally I don’t give a damn if you heroic types kick in doors, make asses of yourselves, and die, but more than your lives rests on your shoulders now. If you fail and the Azlant Ridge site receives no backup, it will surely fall.”
Aram hands over a coin pouch. “As I said, we arranged payment for your caravan some time ago. This should cover the cost of supplies. If you dip into your own resources and manage to survive, the Society will attempt to reimburse you.
“Once you deal with that business, head northwest.” He presents a sealed scrollcase and an ornate, golden key on a leather thong. “Guard these with your lives. The key’s exact purpose eludes me, but the symbol it bears is repeated on a doorway at Azlant Ridge. The scrollcase contains a map to the dig site. My magics secure the case, though, and it will explode violently if opened within five miles of Bloodcove.
“Ask your questions now. I return to Absalom the moment I believe you capable of getting to Bloodcove.”
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Lunaea digs to the bottom of her pack and draws out a plain brown cloak. Normally I would never wear this... color, but... she shrugs, tears the bottoms of her lower garments into rags, and smudges her face, hands, backpack, and the bottom of her robes with reddish-brown dirt. With her silver hair hidden beneath the hood of the cloak, she looks like a travel-weary waif. It can't be any worse than that bog we trudged through.
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I don't think I can easily disguise myself as anything but what I am. On the other hand bodyguards would seem in keeping with whatever story we're likely to come up with, so it shouldn't attract much comment. The quality of my equipment is another matter
Brodey gets some clothing a few sizes too large, pads them so he looks like somebody doing a poor job of pretending to be fat instead of concealing armor under clothing and does something similar with his cloak, to attempt to "conceal" his flail and greatsword. It is very obvious that he is armed and armored, but the quality of his armament is difficult to see.
He looks a bit sadly at his darkwood, silvered lucern hammer.
I'm afraid this can't really be easily hidden.
Brodey will find some place to conceal it until we make contact with the caravan, where either he can operate more openly or at least pretend it is some kind of trade good. Until then he'll make do with more concealable weapons, maybe buy a longspear or something else with reach but inexpensive in Bloodcove.
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Given how many weapons we've got between us Mercenaries seem like a better bet. It isn't that far from reality, except that our coin is knowledge and secrets rather than silver and gold. That disguise will mostly mean that Master Tyraneus conceals his patron's symbol while Lunaea tries to come across as less nice...harder. I'll try to act more brutish, Anara less like a scholar and more like her blade and bow are her main interest.
Senzer serves us as an alchemist and a valuable source of information and potions for our operations in this region. I believe his shop lies somewhere along the Widow’s Walk. Share as little as possible with him; everyone in the town has some stinking agenda. But he already knows of our local operations and the location of the dig site.
The Aspis Consortium runs every crooked or disreputable business practice you can imagine. They strip the history and majesty from anything they encounter and auction it off to the highest bidder. Here in Bloodcove, they shape the law to suit their crimes. From here, they murder, enslave, and pillage their way through the Mwangi Expanse’s interior, stealing away ancient artifacts and knowledge that by all rights belong to the Pathfinder Society. Aram explains.
Brodey knows quite a bit about local movers and shakers:
The local elite elect a Grand Admiral, who rules Bloodcove for life. The Admiral enforces a strict hands- off economic policy and very little else. Fiercely competitive trading houses wield the genuine power behind Bloodcove politics, with the Aspis Consortium currently dominating the political and economic scene. House Cartahegn fiercely opposes its rivals in the Consortium, and makes an acceptable fair- weather friend in this area.
Lunaea manages to one-up that knowledge with the following bit of information: The trading houses brutally crush any criminal organizations that interfere with their business. As a result, most of Bloodcove’s criminal activity revolves around exports (such as the drug trade) or else focuses on the poorer citizens. The local guard only investigates crimes if well paid for the service, leaving most of the city subject to vigilante law.
She also knows a thing or two about the town, its culture and its economy:
Bloodcove lies on the western edge of the Mwangi Expanse. The local culture blends Cheliax with The Shackles and native Mwangi traditions. Bloodcove sits on the headwaters of the Vanji River. Much of the wealth from the jungle interior flows through it, making the dingy city surprisingly wealthy. Retired Shackles pirates founded Bloodcove to enjoy their ill-gotten fortunes. As a free trade port, the only laws genuinely enforced are those that keep trade flowing.
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Tyraneus positions all of his weapons so that they are very visible.
This way it looks as if we are more threatening as mercenaries. He says as he shrugs his shoulders. I have always followed the route of Sarenrae since my family was taken by the worldwound. I was swept off to the chapel as a young lad so can't say I know what a mercenary looks like exactly.
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Lunaea adopts a Goth look, not too difficult with her pale skin and silver hair - all it takes is some heavy black eye makeup, blood red lipstick, and black streaks in her hair. Her curved silver dagger and multiple wands are handy at her side and clearly visible underneath a translucent layer of her silvery robes, though carefully knotted to her belt so as not easily detached by street thieves.
She adds a little silver jewelry that she normally reserves for parties - long dangly earrings with curved lunar designs - one with a black onyx stone and the other with a pale silvery moonstone.
This is more fun than being a road-weary waif...
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Brodey just puts his gear back into its normal state. As a rule he tries to appear obviously dangerous, as the easiest attack to stop is the one that never happens.
Let me handle attempts to hire us
Brodey stands up straight, looks directly into Tyraneus's eyes and growls
We wuz ALREADY paid double!
Brodey looks a bit sheepish.
Ok I'll practice that a bit. It sounded better when the Guild Foreman taught us to say it. Seriously though, we just make it clear we're already doing a job. In a place like this, nobody's going to ask for details. EVERYBODY is doing shady or at least private dealings.
Aram Zey still stands waiting, impatiently, annoyed by the heat and the mosquitoes. It seems you have a chance of survival then. Remember, stay clear of the consortium and don't give away that you're pathfinders.
If the adventurers have no more further questions, he teleports off.
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Brodey adjusts his clothing to allow for free flow of air
Brodey then stands near Lunaea but does indeed take point. The two of them no longer seem to need to look at each other to avoid getting in the way. He is perfectly happy to have Tyraneus stay within reach of his pole-arm's protection as well.
All alone now, the party sees a huge Mangrove tree towering in the distance. That - as the pathfinders know from lore - is bloodcove. The entire city is built around the trunk of the tree, on planks and boardwalks, since the tree is partially standing in the water of the Vanji river, pouring into the fever sea. One look at the water of the Vanji river is sufficient to know where the name of the city comes from: the colour is a deep red.
The party enters the city through the gates at the base of the tree trunk, looking decidedly like mercenaries.
The city of Bloodcove is a wondrous place - a stretching mess of boardwalks and passages, waterways and docks. All walks of life can be spotted on its sordid streets, beggars swatting flies in the humid air, traders, mercenaries whatnot. The adventurers hardly seem out of place here, even though Tyraneus has some trouble looking tough.
Senzer shop is at the far end of town, and a few simple inquiries enable the party to pin down the location.
A small bell rings as the door opens into Rulkep Tonics. Colorful bottles and bags of powder decorate the shelves, while curious, twisted roots and larger bottles lie securely beneath a glass countertop. Several disinterested customers mill about, eyeing newcomers suspiciously before pointedly examining the shelves once again. A gaunt, half-elven man steps out from a doorway behind the countertop, his dusky skin gleaming slightly from perspiration. He smiles crookedly from behind the counter. “Welcome to Rulkep Tonics, friends. What can I do for you today?”
The shopkeep eyes the other customers uneasily for a moment before his expression shifts distinctly to fear. Silently but clearly, he mouths a single word: “Help.”
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Something's going on here. Lets take a closer look at those "customers"
Brodey scans for weapons on the other customers and tries to move between the shopkeeper and all of the other patrons. If the environment is too crowded or ceiling too low for his pole-arm he'll lean it against something to free his hands.
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Lunaea picks up on the man's fear and while Brodey is looking for signs of foul play, tries to give the shopkeeper an opportunity. She tries to flash him a reassuring glance while hardening her voice to fit her disguise.
Yeah, we came across an interesting... item while doing a job. Seeing as how we're not exactly equipped with an alchemist, we thought you might be able to help us identify it. In private, please, she says, demandingly. There's a bit of coin in it for you if it's worth anything.
Brodey scans the customers, and finds them quite heavily armed - even by bloodcove standards. Each of them is wearing studded leather armour, and carries a sap and a scimitar. They also didn't check their crossbows at the door.
The shopkeeper looks uncomfortable, but does seem to understand Lunaea. He answers Of course, miss. Unfortunately, I cannot leave the shop with these - an ever so brief pause - customers around.
The 'customer' closest to the counter looks up and starts eyeing the party.
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Brodey leans his guisarme against the wall south of him, then moves between the two thugs and the shopkeeper, casually equipping his shield as he moves (but still not drawing a weapon).
Oh, I don't think these gentlemen would cause any trouble while I'm on watch. I don't usually do guard work for free, but as my contract includes the business she's wanting to do(indicates Lunaea) I think keeping your shop safe from potential thieves or vandals is included in the price.
Brodey gives a grin at the three "customers"
A-Course if I'm wrong, well, it's been a bit since I got a decent workout. I could use the exercise. I'm sure I can manage to cover any breakage with the possessions of the would-be thieves.
When Brodey mentions possessions his eyes flick to the crossbows and scimitars of the other "customers", as they're worth good coin. He makes sure the high quality of his armor/weapons AND the hard use of his battered shield are very visible.
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Right behind Anub'arak is another woman, also an elf - though this one is pure blooded.
Wearing a travel stained foresters cloak, she has her longbow slung over her shoulder. Under her cloak she wears sweat stained leather armour, and a longsword hangs easily within reach.
"The insects will still be around when your perfume wears off. Just get used to them. They need to eat too."
As she walks through the town, the tall and skinny elf snarls at any who come too close to either her or Anub.
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Brodey's gaze flicks over the newcomers, at first wondering if they might be reinforcements for the bad guys..their armor and weapons are only a little better...then he sees the backpacks stuffed with gear that they universally wear and grins, still not bothering to draw his flail.
Pathfinders, no question.
Brodey makes eye contact with the three "customers".
Last chance to find somewhere else to be. Looks like the rest of my squad is done shopping and are ready to get some "exercise"