A new era is beginning for the Pathfinder Society, with new recruits and new factions all excited to build connections and embark on grand adventures. The PCs are among these recruits invited to attend a welcoming party where they can meet both the old guard as well as the up-and-coming leaders. But the party's not all talk; the PCs learn of four exciting escapades in Absalom, through which they can kick off their adventuring careers!
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The city of Absalom on the Isle of Kortos is considered by some to be the city at the center of the world. For much of its history, Absalom has been a hotbed of political intrigue and maneuvering power mongers, yet the past several decades have been especially dire. A combination of the primarch Lord Gyr's permissive policies, struggles for control of the city by foreign agents, and the inscrutable motives of the Pathfinder Society’s masked Decemvirate has fostered no end of scheming and plots. For the Society, the so-called Shadow War was especially influential, marking a time when international factions recruited Pathfinders to engage in espionage, sabotage, and even worse in service to these disparate patrons. In time, factions undermined the very camaraderie that united the Society. In response to this turmoil, the Society’s factions evolved from advocating national interests to ideological ones. While this evolution brought the Shadow War to an end, it still left numerous outside forces attempting to pull and shape the Pathfinder Society’s operations according to their own agendas.
But times are changing. Lord Gyr mysteriously vanished some time ago and rumor has it that even the Decemvirate has purged its most toxic leaders. Meanwhile, the Society’s penchant for involvement in international affairs has claimed the lives of thousands of agents in recent years. While many of the deadliest missions were launched with noble intentions, such as joining the fight against the Whispering Tyrant, the Society can no longer afford to commit so many agents to external objectives. As the Society strives to recover from its losses, a new generation of factions has arisen. Rather than stand apart from the Society and represent outside interests, each instead exists within the Society and promotes particular Pathfinder ideals.
The most recent set of initiates and recruits have passed their confirmation tests; a cause for celebration - not only to toast these new Pathfinders but also because this is a rare moment of jubilation following several years of hardship. More informally, this event also recognizes a changing of the guard as old familiar faces have moved on to new pursuits, leaving new ones to take up the mantle as faction leaders.
Invitations have been delivered and all is ready for the big event.
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It seems as though the entire Grand Lodge has the air of a celebration. The great gates are flung wide, and the phoenix trees lining the entryway are in full flame. The halls of the main tower of Skyreach, normally somber and reserved, echo with the sound of voices and music. The great ballroom is decked for a celebration, with colorful banners and bunting along the walls, tables replete with food and drink, and a jovial cacophony of conversation rising from Pathfinders of all ancestries, nations, and backgrounds.
Each of you have your invitations tucked safely away in your pockets; though the exact wording of those invitations varies slightly. Those of you who are brand new initiates received one invitation, while those of you with a little field experience under your belts received another.
After a quick scan of the room, it’s obvious that many of the attendees have gathered in small groups here and there. A half-orc woman in an iconic ship captain’s hat stands near the punch bowl, handing cups to anyone who passes within reach, and a dark-skinned half-elf leads a small group of new agents around the room, introducing them to other attendees. Several senior agents stand in quiet conferral with a dark-haired Taldan man with a distinctive chin strap beard, while a scholarly dwarf tells a rousing tale to a growing audience.
A familiar blond halfling woman bounces over, bubbling with excitement. Janira Gavix, Head Initiate of the Pathfinder Society, grins. "Oh, I’m so glad you made it! After all, the celebration is for you. Have you gotten drinks? Snacks? Be sure to spend some time getting to know everyone - it’s best to be on good terms with the movers and shakers in the Society, that’s how you learn about the latest opportunities. I’ll be here if you need me to help you with anyone’s names or to make an introduction. Just let me know how I can help!" Janira gestures everyone forward into the room, beaming all the while.
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A messenger knocks on the door, and Fae bounces up to answer it. She takes the missive, bows, and runs off to the kitchen to deliver it.
Swayaah pokes the chicken with one of her talons and nods. She serves herself the biggest plate and two smaller ones for the picky eaters. Fae sits down at the table and slides the letter to Swayaah's spot before picking away at her food. The Beast calms down, remembers where the fork is, and starts nibbling away.
"Dinner is ready." Swayaah sits down, and starts tearing into her chicken. Just like dad used to make 'em. She is halfway through her meal when she finally notices the letter. She drinks a tall glass of water and reads the letter, checking the seal. "Glyph of the Open Road... ooo, another mission. It's been too long since the last one... And it's a party, too! Nice." She looks up from her letter and notices Fae shrinking back in her chair while the Beast grins. "I have a plus one..."
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Swayaah approaches the Grand Lodge. She's easy to notice due to her magenta skin tones, batlike wings emerging from her shoulders and razor sharp claws. Also her favorite hat and beige overcoat that covers her leather armor and backup weapons. She presents her grease-stained letter to the front door and walks in.
"Hey, how's it going?... Boom! Haven't seen you in years!... Oh yeah, I got over the freezing cold real fast..." Swayaah says hello to some familiar faces before bumping into the always energetic Janira.
"Hey Janira. Remember me? Swayaah Maeleranti? Good to know rumors of your death were greatly overexaggerated. No way would a minotaur kill you!" She does her polite party laugh while the middle aged redhead woman stifles a chuckle. "Oh, right... I brought my plus one with me. This is Salera... my mom. She promised to be on her best behavior. Which means she won't talk unless spoken to. Right mom?"
Salera rolls her eyes, huffs and finally grins.
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"...least they could have done was send the note with magic..." A tall elf with a crown of white hair stands in the foyer muttering to himself. His spotless white tunic and pants are covered by a fathomless black robe decorated with white embroidery that winds itself into spirals, strange runic forms, and even what look like half-formed words. A face cast in silver hangs around his neck, one side polished to a brilliant sheen while the other side is covered in tarnish and grime.
"Even a message cantrip would have worked," he grumbles, voice growing louder in frustration. "Teleport object, dimension door, dream message... I would have even welcomed an animal messenger! But this!?" He looks disdainfully at the envelope sitting harmlessly on the table nearby. "This is an insult! The mundanity!"
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The half-elf woman stands alone on the docks watching the activity with a keen eye. Big freighters head in and out of Absalom’s port bound for all points of the Inner Sea and beyond while smaller ships come and go from nearby countries like Andoran and Qadira. Meanwhile, service boats ply back and forth between the moorings and the docks ferrying crews, passengers, and supplies. The air tastes of salt and seaweed, exactly as Jirelle likes it.
City at the Center of the World, they call it. A little arrogant if you ask me, but I guess it is the busiest port this side of Casmaron.
She sighs a little wistfully as one ship in particular rounds the jetties outbound. Its sails billowing in the newfound wind is the last that Jirelle sees of The First Daughter, the ship that had been her home for the last year. Until…. Jirelle chooses not to dwell on the circumstances that led her to leaving, and instead turns her back to the sea, just like they turned their backs on …. Damn it! No! It wasn’t their choice. Not entirely. Even so…
Her angry musing is interrupted by a young man with a Glyph of the Open Road embroidered on his tunic. ”Excuse me, miss. I was told to find a certain Society Initiate here. Can I ask your name before I deliver the message?”
”Jirelle,” she barks at the courier. ”Sorry, you caught me at a bad time,” she quickly apologizes as she sees his reaction. She repeats her name more politely, to which he nods, smiles tightly, and hands her a letter.
Huh. A party. Yeah, I could use a drink, she considers as she neatly folds the letter into her belt. Or ten.
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”Oh, hey Janira,” Jirelle greets their halfling tutor, relieved to see at least one familiar face. ”I was wondering when the Society would reach out.”
She extends her had in greeting as Swayaah joins their conversation, and introduces herself to Salera, also. ”Do you two work together as a team?” she inquires of the tiefling. But as Swayaah begins to answer, Jirelle’s attention is caught by a half-orc woman sea captain at the drinks table, and she completely fails to hear anything Swayaah says.
”Janira, who is that?” she whispers in awe.
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White-haired and amber-eyed, Pawero strides down the path between the phoenix trees to the Skyreach. As most elves, he stands above the other races, lithe, just shy of lanky. His expression is flat and shifts little upon taking in the party being thrown in honor of the newest graduates.
"Thank you, Janira," he says in a flat voice that starkly juxtaposes the following comment. "I should find the food and beverages. It is a party, after all." One might have a hard time imagining someone any less excited to be here while still not actually dour about it.
"You all are also new agents?" he asks of the other Pathfinders standing near the entrance with a clinical or academic flatness of one merely collecting information.
The bandolier strapped over his dark leather clothing holds several vials, tiny aromatic sacks, and several accoutrements of a barber surgeon.
An older man squints against the glare of the afternoon sun, shielding his eyes from the brightness as he looks over the parchment again. Finally getting his bearings he hurries over to where the festivities are taking place.
"Sorry I am late, did I miss anything?" He glances at the newcomers before Jirelle makes here appearance. Hallo Jirelle! Nice to see you again, has been a while!"
Nodding in greetings to the other Pathfinders he smiles to each of them, "Greetings fellow travellers, I am Ezren, semi-retired but always willing to lend a hand by sharing my experiences with you."
He is dressed in a well worn traveler's outfit which could clearly use some mending and carrying a soiled backpack over one shoulder. A stout walking stick supports his frame. Clearly under dressed for the occasion.
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"Oh! Well, Salera usually stays home but I got to get her out, or she'll drive them insane." Swayaah breaks her gaze from Jirelle to glare at her mother, who simply points at Jirelle. Swayaah turns and realizes she's not important anymore.
"Oh hey, there. I'm Swayaah. Good to meet you." Swayaah carefully offers to shake hands. "Nice party, eh? I've been around for a while but I had to skip my initiation party. So this is my proxy." She smiles.
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"Why can't I take 'im inside? He'd never 'urt a thing!" A stout little man in hide armor holds the lead rope of a perfectly calm pony, staring lovingly at him as it swishes its tail around the doorman's face.
"Raffey loves parties and he's my guest.. and I've got an invitation!" He sticks the letter in the doorman's hand and taps his bare, hairy foot, a lot like a halfling's foot. Do they really make halflings that big? Just as he thinks he's about to make some headway Raffey seals the deal Plop, plop, plop! on the doorstep.
"Well, guess Raffey is having some tummy problems for now, you can take him to the stables I GUESS." He hands off the rope and struts his way into the party, making a beeline at the food table. Don't worry my Queen, I won't eat til I puke this time! Well, its possible... He thinks to himself, uncrossing his fingers and smiling at the array of food.
A seven foot stout pole bangs against numerous guests as he bumps his way through the crowd and into the middle of the red meat table "Now that's what Bubba's talkin' 'bout!" A pork chop in one hand and a steak in the other he nods and mumbles greetings to everyone.
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Breaking out of her single-minded focus on the half-orc lady ship captain, Jirelle turns back to the group forming around Janira.
"Sorry," she says with a shy smile. "Just missing the sea. Spent the last year aboard The First Daughter out of Eleder." Talking about something familiar (albeit with its own load of unspoken baggage) helps her relax. "How about you all? Where do you hail from?"
"And who's Gorm?" she asks Pawero.
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Bubba looks up from his mouthful of roasted pork chop "Huh? Oh." He chokes down the morsel and wipes his mouth on a ragged sleeve, still holding a snack in each hand.
"Name's Bubba Ho-tep, from the great empire of Osirian!" He reaches out a fist/chop bump in greeting. Yes Queen Mother, I won't mention the giant desert there now. He smiles, offering up a similar fist/chop bumb to the other initiates around the table before finishing off the tasty treats with lots of lip smacking and teeth picking.
"So these parties happen lots of times? Sure beats luggin' boxes n pots of grain all day." He grabs up a handful of table cloth and cleans his hands a bit as his eyes hunt up his stomach's next victim. "Grand Archive, what's that?" He adds in, doing his best to keep the conversation going.
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"Me? Oh yeah. Dad's a Varisian priest of Calistria. Big, red poofy hair. Also very gullible. Very, very gullible. But charming. Mom's... uh, conflicted." Swayaah holds back being too blunt, it's gotten her in trouble before. Salera pulls up a chair, sits and leans back.
"Anyway. Mom and Dad loved each other very much, and then Mom fled, and then I was born, and then I met Dad and we were happy." Swayaah counts off events with her fingers. "I'm looking for Dad now. Maybe he's stuck in a timeless dimension. Maybe he's stuck in stone. Maybe he's an immortal guardian. Or... maybe he's dead. I dunno. That's the big mystery I gotta solve." She takes off her hat to fan herself and make sure her silver horns didn't pierce her hat.
"Enough of my life story, what about you?"
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"We're working to restore and grow the libraries of the Society. The preservation techniques were surprisingly lacking, I have been told," he answers Bubba, alternating his attention downward toward the halfling and toward any other person in the room. "Stories have longer lifespans than those who played a part in them, but even stories pass away if not carefully tended."
Even as you begin to chat with your fellow agents a few of you also idly scan the room to see who else might be in attendance.
Pawero is quick to spot Gorm Greathammer, leader of the Grand Archive and the scholarly dwarf telling tales over in the corner. Gorm is well-known for being impressed by knowledge in all its forms, holding an especial fondness for tales and jokes that bring knowledge to life. Other agents have remarked that conversations with Gorm are often more akin to spending time with a lively, fun uncle rather than a stuffy sage.
A number of people seem to be taking time to chat with Gorm, one of whom Pawero recognizes as the mysterious lizardfolk Urwal and leader of the minor faction known as the Verdant Wheel. He recalls that the Verdant Wheel takes an interest in experiencing and documenting natural wonders of all sorts.
In response to Jirelle's question Swayaah takes a closer look at the lady half-orc by the punchbowl and remembers that this is Calisro Benarry, leader of the new Horizon Hunters faction and former captain of the Grinning Pixie. (Also, faction leader most likely to be mistaken for a pirate). From what Swayaah has heard, Benarry's leadership often boils down to pointing out blank spots on the map to her agents.
Swayaah notes that Benarry seems to be enjoying a conversation with Sorrina Westyr, an oread woman with slate-gray skin and silvery white hair. The tiefling recalls that Sorrina is the Pathfinder's Society current Master of Spells.
After managing to tear her eyes away from Calisro Benarry for a moment, Jirelle's gaze settles on the dark-haired Taldan man. His is a face that she hasn't met personally but has seen sketches of - Eando Kline, once a Pathfinder and now returned to the fold as leader of the Vigilant Seal. Word has it that he's the least friendly of the new leaders, but one that also puts a great deal of faith in the judgement of the rank-and-file agents under his command.
Among the senior agents engaged in conversation with Kline, Jirelle immediately recognizes tall, tan Ambrus Valsin, Steward of the Grand Lodge and responsible for overseeing the lodge's daily operations as well as missions within Absalom itself.
Last but certainly not least, Maldlethu is able to point out the dark-skinned half-elf woman lingering near the entrance as Fola Barun, leader of the Envoy's Alliance. Friendly but driven, Fola Barun has recently dedicated herself to growing and nurturing the Pathfinder Society, and she’s been a strong supporter of the recent drive to bring in new members.
Fola seems to be idly chatting with an elven male sporting long, blonde hair. Maldlethu feels like he ought to know who this is but can't quite put his finger on it, at least not until Ezren helpfully points out that it's Kreighton Shane, well-known for his intelligence and serious, reserved demeanor.
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"It's nice to meet you Salera," Janira smiles as she shakes the woman's hand. "Even more so to see the whole family getting in on the action! Are you thinking of a career change? The Pathfinder Society is always looking for new initiates," she winks.
In response to Jirelle, she glances over at the half-orc and chuckles. "Well, Swayaah beat me to it but that's Calisro Benarry. Wait, you joined the Horizon Hunters didn't you? Then you definitely should go talk to her!"
The halfling watches for a few moments more as you engage each other in conversation, her smile widening.
"Seems as though you're already making some connections. It's just as important to make connections with your fellow agents as it is with the leadership, you know."
She glances around, pausing for a moment to wave at a face in the crowd. "But don't let me keep you. Mingle and have fun and remember, if you need an 'in' with someone just find me and let me know, okay? Enjoy the party!"
And with that, the halfling bounds off to chat up some of the other partygoers, leaving you to converse among yourselves as well as with the leadership, both new and old.
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Ezren shrugs at the elf investigator. "Yeah stories need to be preserved...least that is what I was taught. Let's see what Calistro has to share." He ambles on after Pawero.
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Jirelle nods at Janira's advise about talking to Calisro, though she's still a little unsure about meeting such an awe-inspiring woman. But with the rest of the team at her back, she squares her shoulders and walks right up to the pirate faction leader.
"Cap'n Benarry, it's a pleasure and an honor," she says in greeting as she puts her hand out. "Jirelle. I'm a new Agent, just ashore, and joined your Horizon Hunters."
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"Master Westyr," Pawero says woodenly with a formal bow. "Your Pathfinder Journal on the path of Aucturn's Tear and its relationship to the elemental lord's prison was quite interesting. Do you foresee additional cosmic phenomenon in the coming decades?" His words imply interest in the subject, but his tone would be hard pressed to be more flat.
Opting to approach the Horizon Hunters leader first, you all begin meandering over to the punch bowl. As you do, you seem to have caught Calisro in the middle of relating a story to Sorrina.
"Yeah, but you know that Valsin was already drunk when I got there-oh, hello!"
The half-orc turns to greet the group as everyone ambles up, her gaze settling on Jirelle as the half-elf takes the initiative to say hello. "Always a pleasure to meet new agents," Benarry replies, clasping Jirelle's hand in a firm, but not bone-crushing, handshake. "Especially when they're one of mine," she adds with a grin. Beckoning to the rest of you she adds, "Come on, don't be shy! Ah Sorrina, remember when we were initiates ourselves? Seems so long ago, doesn't it?"
Calisro begins handing out cups and spooning punch out of the bowl into each one. "Jirelle already knows this but in the Horizon Hunters we carry on the proud tradition of ascending the highest peaks, plumbing the darkest depths, and seeing what lies over the next hill. We're all about exploration and bringing back tales of our exploits!" She looks dubiously at the punch she's pouring, and then whispers, "Do you want me to spice up that beverage?" She pulls out her hip flask, and wiggles it meaningfully over your fruit punch.
"Yes, it does. Sometimes I miss those days," the oread woman agrees with a nod, seemingly turning a blind eye to Calisro's offer to spice up your drinks. "Hello to you, Swayaah. The 'magic school'," Sorrina's lips quirk as though trying not to laugh, "proceeds apace. Always plenty that needs to be done and plenty to teach. Especially now that we have so many new recruits who don't know the first thing about how to properly wield magic or defend against it..." Sorrina sighs, her brows furrowing with worry.
"Hey girl, if anyone can teach them what's what about magic and how to handle themselves, it's you!" Calisro is quick to remark, giving the oread a hearty slap on the shoulder.
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"Psh, do I?" Swayaah keeps her cup of punch near Captain Calisro's flask of special punch.
Turning back to Westyr, Swayaah notes the woman and her mannerisms, noting the magic school comment hit a nerve.
"Now most magic kind of flies right overhead. Mom tells me I should look into her side of the family to learn some more about it. But I know a little bit about divine magic. About the sources of power. How gods give and revoke favor from mortals."
Swayaah rambles on for a bit about divine magic. Salera almost reveals her pride before yawning it off.
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Bubba smiles a bit but keeps mostly eating and less conversing, this doesn't change all that much as they make their way over to the woman with the funny hat. He nods with a grunt, holding out a cup for some special 'sauce' from the VC, listening intently on just what the 'Horizon Hunters' do. "So you guys like to explore the world? Sign me up!" He drops the well gnawed chop bone and offers up a handshake "I'm Bubba Ho-tep, son of the great Queen Mother, protector of the great kingdom of Osirian."
Don't worry Mother, I'll still make time to visit even if I'm exploring the world.
Seeing a look of interest from Westyr and wanting more time to join up with these fancy explorers and their neat hats, Bubba switches into his native tongues to talk about the great queen mother.
"Isis, the Queen of Miracles, she's great. All of us laborers loved her. Many of the temples looked down on us as little more than slaves, but she.. she spoke with us with respect!"
He crosses his hands over his chest and smiles.
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Pawero frowns--the first sign of affect the elf has demonstrated tonight--when Bubba begins to speak about Isis in the halfling's native language. He counters with a firm but gentle energy in his words, "Other than respect, which should be granted you by your fellow mortals, what has the Queen of Miracles done for you? Directly? And what does she demand of you in return for her respect? I have seen only discord sewn by the gods in the guise of defending one virtue or another. In Rahadoum, the Laws instruct us to be independent of the whims of deities and take care of our fellow mortals ourselves."
He is more than willing to debate the value of self-reliance over dependence upon divine powers.
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Jirelle extends her cup toward Calisro's proffered flask. "If the Cap'n's offering the good grog, then aye, ma'am," she says slipping a little too easily back into the speech of a sailor. Cause Besmara knows I could use it after what those bilge-rats on the Daughter did.
Realizing how she sounded, she smiles self-consciously, mentally adjusts back to land-lubber-normal, and turns to the oread. "Honestly, Master Westyr, I'm one of those 'who don't know the first thing about how to defend against' magic. Though I planned to study mostly with the Swords, I could probably use some training from your school, too."
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"Of course they need to know about magic!" maldlethu's voice is almost too loud for the fancy party, but not quite enough to draw unwanted attention. "Magic is in all things, after all, and all things are within magic. This was the truth that drove Nethys to madness - and godhood!"
"Honestly, Master Westyr, I'm one of those 'who don't know the first thing about how to defend against' magic..."
"And you, child - it is not too late for you to experience the wonders of magic yourself, you know. The potential lies inside all of us, and we have only to unlock it before it consumes us."
"Master Westyr," Pawero says woodenly with a formal bow. "Your Pathfinder Journal on the path of Aucturn's Tear and its relationship to the elemental lord's prison was quite interesting. Do you foresee additional cosmic phenomenon in the coming decades?"
"Hrm? Ah yes, thank you," Sorrina replies a bit distractedly. "No, I don't expect we'll see another cosmic phenomenon of that sort in our lifetimes or perhaps not ever...that was a truly unique case, as you recall."
Though Sorrina is by no means waving off Pawero's question, it's clear that she still has other concerns on her mind. However, as the conversation naturally shifts to matters of the divine and the nature of magic itself, her worries seem to fall away.
"Ah, but what if your fellow mortals fail you? How many people fall through the cracks in this world, forgotten in the shadows?" she inquires. "It is true that not all gods are warm and loving and some ask a high price indeed for their favor. Yet your companion speaks of Isis, the Queen of Miracles. She loves those who revere her name and asks of them to do the very same that you espouse - care for the sick and use magic to help others."
The Master of Spells glances to Jirelle and Swayaah, potential students in their own right, and smiles. "Perhaps helping those who need instruction in the magical arts also counts, after a fashion. Please don't think I find doing so a burden; it isn't. More that...ah, well, you're here to enjoy the party, not listen to concerns that shouldn't be yours to carry. We will carry on and do the best that we can, as we always have."
Sorrina turns back to Pawero. "Now, back to what you were speaking of regarding self-reliance..."
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As the Master of Spells dives into conversation with Pawero, Calisro nods with approval. "She doesn't like to talk about it much but I know her responsibilities weigh her down sometimes. It's important to her that initiates enter the field as prepared as possible. But that was a smooth bit of subject-changing there, especially by your, uh...companion, there," she remarks, gesturing at Pawero.
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small, unmarked hip flask and slips it into Jirelle's hand. "Here, token of my appreciation. A little pick-me-up for when you really need to get back on your feet."
It's a Minor Healing Potion.
"Say...while I've got you here, especially you two," Calisro adds, nodding at Jirelle and Bubba, "here's a little nugget of information that might interest you...if you're feeling bold."
The half-orc gets a mischievous look in her eye. "So, there's this old run-down mansion out in the Precipice Quarter that's been there for years. Rumor has it...that's it haunted."
She pauses for a moment for dramatic effect.
"But haunted or not, it's been marked for demolition soon. But if someone were to go out there and stay the night before they knock it down, it'd give them a good idea of what it's like to camp out in potentially unfriendly territory. Not to mention I bet it'd make for a reeeeally good story..." Calisro whistles innocently.
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"That is a failing of society, then, and should be corrected as they have in Rahadoum," Pawero counters and carries on as an excellent academic distraction for the pirates to talk of more interesting things. "It is not worth the strife that worship demands. What about those who do not revere her name? What about those who follow Set? Even if the goddess herself does not ask for their downfall, it has happened frequently enough that mortals have used a god or goddess as an excuse for war."
If not moved along by an outside force, his social inertia could leave him here all night (or at least until he found an excuse to escape the growing throng of people).
Ezren had been quietly listening to the exchange between the Master of Spells and Pawero with a look of interest on his face. Clearly philosophical discussions appealed to him. "Think you paint things with an overly broad brush there Mister Pawero. Everyone is different, as the gods have created us to explore our differences, not have us wall ourselves off from the gods themselves. A society may try but I have seen such attempts are doomed from the start. The spark of divinity lies in us all, whether it be arcane, divine, or from nature itself!"
Hearing the talk of a haunted mansion Ezren rolls his eyes here, "Probably nothing more than a smuggler's ring, or perhaps a poltergeist or three..." muttering under his breath.
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"And you, my child..."
'My child'? Who does he think.... Oh, wait, Jirelle stops herself to look more closely at the elf. Damn. He's oooold. Fine, I'll give the geezer a break. This time, she thinks with an indulging smile.
Turning her attention back to the lady pirate, Jirelle takes a sip of her "enhanced" punch. "Whoo, Cap'n. A few more of these, and I'm gonna need that other little pick-m-up by first bells."
She pockets the Capn's gift, suspecting what it might be, but planning to ask one of her teammates to confirm that for her later.
"Thank you for that, and we'll make sure to check out the "haunted house." But we should probably let you get back to Master Westyr and serving punch. If we don't peel him away, my friend'll stick to her like a bad barnacle for the night."
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Ah, I see what gets his motor runnin'. Swayaah giggles and focuses on the Captain's story. "Now a haunted house. There's a good mystery to solve. We hop in, find out the weather just makes it creak like it's haunted, then we come back."
"Or..." she grins "It IS haunted and we get to beat up some ghosts. No one complains when I beat up ghosts."
"Hey, Pawero! You wanna speak to Gorm Greathammer? Prince, third in line to the throne of Kraggodan, diplomat, and the leader of the Grand Archive? Let's get over there before he goes back home." Swayaah verbally nudges the elf.
"Alright yeah I can see that," Calisro laughs as Jirelle remarks on the immovable object that is Pawero. "And besides, we don't need to hog all their time either - do we Sorrina?" She gives the oread a friendly nudge with her elbow. "Especially since I see Janira over there giving us the stink-eye, haha! Enjoy the rest of the party, folks, and be sure to let me know how your little overnight trip turns out," she adds with one final wink as you bid the pair farewell and head over to speak with Gorm Greathammer next.
As you approach, you see that Gorm appears to be listening intently to Urwal and scribbling something down in a notepad as he does. "Alright, so tell me again how ye broke into Shane's office?"
"Oh, well, that's easy. I used my claws to pick the lock on the door," the lizardfolk replies, staring down at them almost as though they're as much of a curiosity to him as they would be to any random stranger. "He was very surprised to find me there, you know. All I wanted to do was drop off some reports and then I noticed just how messy his desk and papers were, so I thought I would organize them while I was there..."
Gorm nods, scribbling on his notepad. "Uh huh, uh huh...claws...as...lockpicks. Might be a good alternative to regular lockpicks, hmm...just disguise 'em as a bit o' jewelry or scrimshaw..."
"...and then Master Shane said that he thought it was funny but that maybe I shouldn't just break into offices when no one is home because not everyone would like it. He specifically mentioned Ambrus Valsin and Zarta Dralneen, you know, when he said that. I don't see why they would be upset though because I'm only trying to help and it's silly to just wait around until they come back if I can just let myself into their offices and drop off my reports and things..." Urwal rambles on.
Getting a word in edgewise here might be difficult...but you remember Pawero's words about Urwal's interest in natural wonders...
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“Urwal! Have you learned more about the magic of the fey?” Maldlethu’s voice rises with excitement as he speaks, and his thin arms move animatedly to emphasize his words. “It is said that magic infuses their very bodies, perhaps even powering their immortal lifespans. Imagine existing in such a blessed state!”
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Swayaah and Salera both smirk as Urwal mentions Dralneen's privacy. Swayaah wonders about how much she can talk about some of her clients when the other elf starts talking about fey.
"Immortality? Massively overrated." Swayaah shrugs.
"Besides, the world is gonna claim you again at some point. Magical infusion or not, there's always someone bigger on the food chain. From the tiny mushrooms to the giants living in the clouds, if old age doesn't get you, a bigger predator will."
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Bubba looks at Pawero and raises a slightly confused eyebrow at the discussion of Isis and his overall godless stance. "Different strokes fer different folks I guess. Isis and her faithful were good to me, my buddies, and my family. That's good enough for me." Its clear he doesn't have the education to get into a philosophical debate and his mind is made up on the subject.
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"Haunted house eh? That sounds like a good place to start!"
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Pawero stands near Gorm, awkwardly awaiting an opportunity to introduce himself while being unwilling to interrupt as he appears intent on taking notes during his conversation with the iruxi. He looks back and forth between Gorm and Urwal as they carry on their exchange. Once his companions distract Urwal, he makes move. "Good evening, Gorm. My name is Pawero. I hew close to the goals of the Grand Archive, and I appreciate the opportunity to work with the Pathfinder Society. Having finished my training within the Society, I am eager for my next assignment." One would be forgiven for being uncertain if the monotone with which his feelings are expressed were dry sarcasm, at least if none had witnessed his last several minutes at the party. It is simply him.
"Hmm? Oh, hello," Urwal replies as Maldlethu and Swayaah both swoop in to attempt a distraction. "Yes, magic powers many things so it makes sense that it might even help to power the lifespans of certain creatures," he agrees. "Well, I mean to help in a way that's different from what something like a lich would do with necromancy...because that isn't natural at all..."
He trails off in thought for a moment before suddenly blinking and nodding at Swayaah. "Oh yes, survival of the fittest isn't just for animals but for every living thing - when left in more of a natural state, of course. And if nothing else, time comes for us all."
Urwal almost seems on the verge of forgetting what he was originally talking about entirely but Jirelle helpfully directs his attention back to it when she mentions her fingernails. "Oh, no, you don't have claws so it wouldn't work," he remarks, giving the young half-elf a sympathetic pat on the arm. "Fingernails are too brittle, even if you let them grow out. But I'm sure they would look very nice if you let them grow out."
He looks back to Gorm. "You should write that down - no fingernails."
"Aye! No...fingernails..." Gorm repeats before Pawero manages to get his attention, at least somewhat. "Hrm? Ah! Welcome to the Grand Archive laddie," the dwarf replies, his expression being a little less focused and a little more open and friendly. "We're glad to have ye aboard, the more the merrier! But, eh...no need to look so serious, you know! A body can learn and have some fun doing it, eh?"
He gives Pawero what's clearly meant to be a friendly nudge in the ribs with his elbow.
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"I am having fun. Why do people keep saying that?" he murmurs to himself, just as woodenly.
The amber-eyed elf drops eye contact with Gorm and inserts himself into the conversation with peculiar iruxi. "Have you been to the drylands of northern Garund, Urwal? I found the fauna interestingly diverse--no so much as the Storval plateau with its cinder cats and ember snakes, but interesting nonetheless." The juxtaposition of his academic tone and the word "interesting" is notable and yet he is quite willing to talk in great detail about the adaptive differences in the animals found in the respective regions.
"Oh, it is very hot," Urwal remarks absently to Bubba, his attention now more focused on Pawero. "The Garundi drylands can also be quite hot, but it's truly amazing the number of creatures that prefer to call such a place home. Sphinxes, giant solifugids, all many of scorpion big and small, camels..."
Urwal prattles on, distracted from his great dissertation about the merits of claws as lockpicks.
"Heh. Give him any topic about the natural world and he'll run with it," Gorm chuckles. "But I think we'd gone about as far as we could go with the claws so my thanks for giving me an exit," he adds, lowering his voice.
"Ahem! So you said you're looking forward to your next assignment?" he continues, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he gazes at Pawero and the rest of you. "In that case, mebbe I've got just the thing. I'd like you to head over to the Petals District, when you get the chance. Word has it that there's a scholar at the College of Mysteries that's been working on something right dangerous. I don't know all the specifics but at least part of it is apparently based on some nameless scrolls from Nidal."
"Now, I don't need the original scrolls or anything - considering where they're from they're probably written on human skin or the like - but if you could acquire copies then I'd be mighty appreciative." Here, Gorm reaches into his pocket and pulls out three scrolls. "Never hurts to be prepared, especially when danger is the name of the game - even dangerous research. I always carry a few spare scrolls. Take one, if you think you might could use it."
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Once the magic types finish choosing their scroll of choice, Swayaah finishes the chit chat with Gorm and scans the party for more important guests. "I have a million questions to ask Gorm and the Captain later on. Too many mysteries need solving."
"Uh-huh... Flower Girl and Mister Always-Armed." Swayaah notes Fola and Eando. "Let's talk to Eando first and squeeze marching orders out of him."