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You have all been gathered to Sothis, a familiar place for some of you. After quick introductions, Venture-Captain Balentiir shutters off the windows in his second-story office overlooking the lodge’s tranquil gardens and seats himself behind his writing desk before raising his hand for silence.
He nods and introduces a thin, aging Garundi man in an ornately bejeweled and feathered turban. "This is Amenopheus, the Sapphire Sage. I trust most of you know of him already. If you don’t, know that he has served both the Ruby Prince and the Pathfinder Society for many years, uncovering vast troves of lore from Ancient Osirion and mentoring some of our finest agents. He recently approached my colleagues and me with a request for assistance, and the Society has agreed to step up and aid its ally. The arrangement is, in fact, rather mutually beneficial." He nods to Amenopheus, signaling the elder man to speak.
[b]"Faithful servants of the past, I bid you greetings," the wizened sage says with a shallow bow. "Our esteemed ruler, the Ruby Prince, recently released me from his service, which has freed me to learn more about a little-known organization to which I belong: the Jeweled Sages, protectors of Osirion’s history and chroniclers of its past glories. Quite by accident, I found myself initiated into this group, and have long believed myself to be its sole surviving member. Each sage in the group possesses a unique jewel—a priceless artifact that contains memories of Osirion’s golden age.” He pauses as if considering how to express his thoughts “For many years, I have sought news of any other members of the Jeweled Sages. My agents recently learned of the Diamond Sage, whom they traced to the city of Eto in the Osirian Desert. At the same time, I received word from a reliable source that several other jewels in the vicinity. I ask that you travel to Eto, negotiate with my contact in the city for his assistance, and then use what you learn to find the Diamond Sage and these lost jewels."
Venture-Captain Balentiir frowns and adds, "This contact has tried to remain anonymous, but we suspect he is none other than Grandmaster Torch. If you’ve heard of him—or worse, met him—you may know trading favors is his signature. Regardless of Torch’s past treacheries, we need you to deal with him fairly for the information. There is a caravan leaving for Eto in a few hours, so don’t delay."
"If you have any questions or grievances, now is the time for them."
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Prothero listens closely to the sage's explanation, one hand unconsciously stroking his carefully groomed beard. He is is older than many Pathfinders of his rank and dressed simply, in faded grey robes, his only extravagance a beautiful bow of black wood extending over his right shoulder. His coloring – the bronzed skin and brown hair – indicate his Taldan birth, and his neatly trimmed beard marks him as being of the noble blood of that land. But his calm, focused demeanor is very different from the typical scheming, simpering attendee of the court of Grand Prince Stavian III, and it is clear he has left that life behind.
"I am new to the Society, and have spent my service to it in the jungles of Mwangi, so I know nothing of Grandmaster Torch," Prothero states plainly. "But if he is a trader in favors, what have we to offer him in exchange for this information we seek?"
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Standing near the back of the room is one of the Pahmet dwarves, dressed in traditional robes and wearing the holy symbol of Nethys.
There's probably a favour or secret that he would want. Even if we do bring along something to pay him off with, we should find out what his price is first - otherwise we may find ourselves over paying.
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A man of Cheliax listens quietly, not sure of what to make of these Jeweled Sages or the Torch fella. Hey, I wasn't brought on to talk to people. I had quite enough of that kinda stuff on the last escapade I endured. Darvik simply shakes his head at the thought of the "escapade". We'll be travelling by land, I hope?
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Venture-Captain Balentiir sighs heavily, either at Prothero's ignorance or because of the subject matter. "Torch is a charming devil to be sure. He always plays one side of a deal against the other, and usually ends up ahead. You’ll recognize him by his burn scars. He suffered some injury that never seems to heal. Whatever you do, never fully trust him." He seems to be withholding details, though it is unlikely he will state more on the matter.
To Darvik's hesitation, Balentiir adds, "No no, the caravan will travel by land. There are not very many means to travel by sea within Osirion. Fret not, as Torch will likely have you do something rather than simply share the information, as the good dwarf states."
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A tall Varasian man enters the room. "My sincerest apologies at my delay. The Professor is somewhat unavailable at this time, and despite his deepest reservations, I decided to make the journey in his place. The old fool never could keep his appointments anyway."
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Teric Cain. I hope this little venture will be beneficial to all of us."
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After what feels like days waiting for your erstwhile sixth companion, you decide to head on without them, meeting up with the caravan that will escort you to Eto.
The caravan moves quickly across the desert of Osirion, the sweltering heat hardly bearable even in your desert gear. Beyond that, the journey is uneventful. As you progress, the immense rock walls that ring Eto rise from the horizon like a shimmering mirage that gradually sharpens into focus. The city sits inside an elevated crater with sheer, weathered sides broken only in two places by heavily guarded gates. Long lines of caravans wait in a meandering queue awaiting entrance as officials search their cargos for contraband and calculate taxes. Water sellers, food vendors, and guides march up and down the lines peddling their wares and services to the visitors.
Your caravan leader turns to you to explain. "Eto is fairly strict about imports and exports, though they only truly care about Osirion artifacts. You don't have anything to worry about, though, right?"
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Teric shakes his head. "Nothing at all, though I would be interested in seeing these artifacts. Perhaps we will have a chance." He wipes sweat off his brow.
"I don't think these Varasian clothes will do very well in this heat. I feel like I'm melting. I may need to get something more...local." He tries to find a stall to buy some of the local loose fitting robes.
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Although the journey is long and hot, Prothero can't help but compare it to his recent experience in the Mwangi Expanse, commenting, "Well, at least it's a dry heat, won't rot my bowstrings so fast. And there aren't swarms of mosquitoes and maddened ape creatures. And we're heading to a city, rather than out of a small town into the trackless jungle. All in all, an improvment."
In response to the caravan leader's question, he echoes Teric's response, "No, I've got nothing they'd be interested in."
Continuing to follow Teric's line of thinking, Prothero says, "I think that's wise, getting some clothing more suited to the clime. Perhaps I could join you in a bit of shopping?"
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Before you departed Sothis, Amenopheus pulled a weathered stone from his robes and struck it once against the wall to break the stone into two crystalline geode halves. He handed one piece to the group, instructing you, "If you find one of the jewels of my order or the person known as the Diamond Sage, I ask that you contact me. Concentrate on the stone and
speak a message of a few dozen words. I will hear you and respond with further instructions. It will only work once, so keep it safe."
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"Does that mean you'd like to talk your way past the guards with the sage's broken stone, Defah?" asks Prothero. "I've no talent for lying," he continues, "which is why I left the Taldan court behind. Perhaps Teric would be best suited to keep a straight face while we tell the guards we have nothing to declare. He has struck me as a fairly convincing speaker as we've made our journey here."
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Borax's Endure Elements extract allowed him to ignore the temperature. He seemed to smirk at the plight of the others and it made Borax seem an unlikable man. The investigator relied on the aid of his cane as he walked along.
Responding to the chittering of the others,
"I could attempt to deceive the guards if the matter required it. But I will most likely need assistance. We might be better off trying to hide it, but that is not my area of expertise."
There was something about Borax's mannerism that made it feel he was talking down to you.
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The caravan driver turns to Borax. "Don't be startin' trouble that you can't finish. All's it'll be is likely a check in your packs, but if you don't have anything they're lookin' for, you have nothing to fear!" Somehow he has remained chirpy and cheerful the entire way to Eto.
As you rapidly approach the front of the line, two guards call for a halt and look to everyone in turn. "Welcome to Eto," a third man calls, rather bored sounding. "All Osiriani artifacts are to be tagged and taxed by order of the Ruby Prince."
The caravan driver waves all friendly-like saying, "Just my usual goods today. And a few travelers to boot!"
At the mention, the customs agent eyes everyone further. "Travelers, eh? Seems like an intriguing bunch. What is it you do on your travels?"
He seems to have no regard for the line of merchants and travelers behind you as they try to move around to one of the other customs agents at this entrance.
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Prothero tries to mimic the caravanner's cheerful demeanor, saying the to customs agent, "I mostly try to stay out of Taldor, and I'd say I'm having quite a bit of success at that today. But seriously, I learn new things, take on the occasional odd job when I'm short of cash, and sometimes transport goods from one city to another for sale, though today I'm just traveling as a paying customer with the caravan. Anything unique to Eto that might fetch a good price in Absalom or Almas?"
When he finishes speaking, Prothero can't help but raise a self-satisfied eyebrow, thinking to himself, Pulled that off rather well, I must say. Perhaps I've learned a bit in my travels, and should return to court to impress all those who mocked me as they rose past me in the ranks...
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At Borax's words, Prothero looks quite affronted, and raises a hand, one finger extended, as if about to reprimand his fellow Pathfinder. He's just insulted my homeland! He pauses, however. Ah, we're tricking the guard...he's playing along...no wonder I fared so poorly at court, if I can't even keep track of the hand of cards right in front of me. He lowers his hand as unobtrusively as he can, hoping he hasn't spoiled their ruse.
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The caravan driver covers his face a little.
The custom's officer meanwhile cocks an eyebrow. "Travelers from afar who are obviously looking for trade goods, and you expect me to believe you do not have Osiriani artifacts? Well, if you don't, I suppose you won't mind if I have a look through your packs?"
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The custom's agent turns fully to the dwarf, bolstering his height the best he can. "Any follower of Pahmet would understand the heritage of our land Osirion and respect for the orders of the leaders which rule us. Why? Is there something which I should be suspicious of with you, you who is claiming religious immunity?" He is definitely trying to create a spectacle yet is failing miserably as everyone else goes on their way around your group. "Will ye submit or shall we do this by force?"
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A thought occurs to Prothero, one crafty enough for the clever Taldan courtier he once thought he'd become - Teric's got the stone, and I don't have anything to worry about getting caught with, so I've got to make it as easy for him as I can...in fact, if we can all distract the guard, Teric will have a much easier time of it.
"I don't see what the trouble is, but I'll submit to your search!" he cries out loudly, even eagerly, stepping directly in front of the customs agent, dropping his backpack to the ground and beginning to scatter the contents about while naming them, "Whetstone, whistle, oh, that's where that went, would have been mighty handy when I got lost in the swamps...Oh now look, my string and my thread are all tangled together. Here, sir, can you hold one end of this blue thread, just like that? Now I'll pull on the string, like this...oh bother, I don't think we'll ever get it undone, here I'll just stuff the whole knotted mess in this mug, I'll never find the needle to go with that thread in here anyway...what was it you were looking for, artifacts of some kind?"