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Qillion Jones is a gruff-looking, square-jawed brute. He usually wears a bandana to cover his short cropped, messy, sandy-colored hair, and is usually wearing an eyepatch (although it occasionally switches eyes). Decked mostly in leather, carrying two whips and a cutlass, he looks like someone you would expect to be enforcing rules aboard a pirate ship.
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Tall, lithe, Shonne is standing off along the periphery of the area quietly observing what transpires.
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A dwarf with an intense gaze looks up at the middle-aged man.
"Who ye callin' young, lad?" he quips.
The dwarf carries a fine warhammer and bears medium armor, as well as the holy symbol of a dwarven deity around his neck.
"Though we're all young compared ta Dranngvit, I suppose. Io Hammerhand, at yer service."
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Fresh off your induction into the Society and the completion of their basic training within the organization, you find themselves in the office of Ambrus Valsin, the venture-captain in charge of daily operations in and around the Grand Lodge. The efficient and straightforward chamberlain greets you curtly and motions for you to sit before jumping straight into their assignment.
“All right, Pathfinders! Listen up. I know you are new recruits eager to make names for yourselves in the organization, but first we need to make sure you are up to snuff and won’t get yourself killed out there. I have a number of small assignments for you and your team, and it would be best if you could finish them before the day’s end. “Every day we get some doe-eyed hopeful or some sniveling bootlicker willing to do anything to join up with the Pathfinders. Most of them are good kids, but not all of them have the salt to make it in a world like this. It’s rough out there and I’m not just talking about the ruins, tombs, and wilderness Pathfinders find themselves in on missions. We’ve got people who look down their noses at us, folks who think we squander our resources, and agents who want to take everything we have collected. This wealth of knowledge and these items of lore make us the most powerful organization on the planet. That said, since we are fractured and widespread, it’s difficult for that power to light on anything for too long. For every friend of the Society, there are two enemies.
“Your first mission, to test your mettle and loyalties, sends you to meet a few people important to the Society living here in Absalom. These are other venture-captains or close allies of our organization, so follow their orders as you would mine. I’ve prepared a list of things I want you to do. They’re not arranged in any particular order of importance, but I want them all completed as quickly as possible. Only report to me once you complete them all. Included in the envelope you hold in your hands is the list, complete with the name of your contact, and directions to the meeting location.”
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The Venture Captain gives a detailed explanation on where to find all four of your locations.
At once you head out to the docks.
This creepy shop contains myriad odds and ends, most bereft of any discernible use. A number of malformed creatures and creature parts bob in jars on a long, prominent shelf, a tiny fetal devil centered in this macabre lineup. The shopkeeper, a greasy-haired Varisian with a thin mustache, shouts from behind the cluttered counter:
“Ah yes, I see the Pathfinders have arrived. I’m glad Ambrus was able to lend a few of his new recruits to help me. Please come in and let me tell you what I need.”
Looking around as if to be absolutely certain no customers are browsing the aisles of knock-off Thuvian burial urns or supposed Azlanti porcelain, he begins again.
“Well met. I am Guaril Karela. A friend of mine has a warehouse near here and he received a parcel on behalf of me and some of my associates, but there’s a problem. See, Master Gelbane had to leave town in a hurry and our shipment is still waiting at his warehouse.
Rumor is he ended up in trouble with the law and the place was seized. I heard tell from someone down at the docks that some creep
was snooping around his warehouse just the other night, so I want to make sure nothing of mine was taken. He keeps all kinds of things,
from beer to nails, in that old pelican, but every now and then he stores something really special. This is one of those cases.
“There’s a big crate marked with three crows arranged in a triangle. Inside that crate is a smaller container with a few books and papers in it. That’s the only parcel I’m interested in, and as far as I’m concerned, you can help yourself to the rest of the crate. Honestly, anything else you want in the place too. I’m sure that once things get sorted out, the city will seize most everything else anyway.
“My associates and I often work with the Pathfinders when it comes to special relics and documents, getting them in and out of ports and across borders where the authorities ask too many questions. Most people don’t realize what they have and frankly many don’t deserve to have it, so sometimes we help take the goods off their hands. If things work out well and you get this done, I’d be glad to talk with you more and help you out with any future endeavors, as long as you help me out too. I’m good at returning favors, trust me.”
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Yes, It is called the Pelican Warehouse.
The man tilts his head from side to side making his sneer and thin mustache look like animated clock hands.
He explains explicitly where the warehouse is located.
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Called Pelican Warehouses, these buildings perch at the end of piers, allowing a ship to load and unload farther out from the busier docks.
Many of them either accommodate smaller vessels that are in a hurry or larger ships unable to find an open dock. Rare these days the Pelican docks lie in disrepair, withered by storms and salt, and every year it seems another one falls into the harbor. An increased tax on this type of property keeps many owners from rebuilding and some have even relinquished the titles allowing them to fall into the hands of squatters and smugglers or even the bay itself.
Smugglers have been known to use small boats to slip underneath the warehouses, sawing holes in the floor and prying boards off at night to sneak in to loot the place or just drop a crate into their boat and row away in the darkness.
The pier that you are directed to sits on a stretch 100 feet from the boardwalk and the docks proper, standing 15 feet above the water. The planks on the pier are sturdy but weathered. A few local fisherman and some kids sit along the pier casting nets and bobbing lines into the murky waters below.
The building looks abandoned and in disrepair. The windows are dark and dirty. A small boat bobs in the waters below, tethered to the pier by a stout, salt crusted rope. Perched on the end of a long pier fifteen feet
above the water, the warehouse appears to struggle against its own roof, threatening to sag into the bay below. No light shines from the building’s windows and only the movement of gulls and pelicans stirs the scene.
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"Be cautious. Both paths are likely barred by lock, trap, or both." Shonne speaks for the first time her Kyonin accent Fran's from FFXII.
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Torriki easily unlocks the front door any swings it open wide.
Darkness fills the warehouse, the ambient light from outside blocked by a filthy, oily film on the structure’s few windows. Darting illumination comes from light reflecting off the water through a splintered hole in the floor. Throughout the warehouse, crates, boxes, and barrels lean against each other in vaguely sorted stacks. A lingering smell indicates some of the contents are certainly spoiled.
Perched in the middle of the hole, teetering on split planks, sits a large crate stamped with three crows arranged in a triangle—the very crate you have come to find. Handholds cut into the stout wooden crate ring the rim. Other barrels, boxes, and crates sit stacked along the walls of the warehouse. Just inside the door sits a handful of crates and kegs of beer. Most of these smaller crates and barrels contain foodstuffs in various states of freshness. Some crates reek of rot. Stacks of simple coffins sit against the east wall.A crane, used for loading and unloading boats, clings to a rail running the length of the warehouse, hanging 5 feet below the high ceiling, and can slide out to extend past the loading doors along the west wall.
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"let's have someone underneath in the boat just in case. Then the rest work together on the crane. Let's go secure the crate first."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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[b]"well let's make sure the place is clear, then we'll have Quill ion provide back up underneath.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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While digging through you packs and contemplating a plan on how to get this crate from it's precarious position you hear a screeching sound coming from the north wall. Peering into the darkness it seems that all of the noise has awakened three dire rats who seem to be irritated at your intrusion.
Torriki
Qillian
Shonne
Io
Omar
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Dire Rats
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Rudolph