The bustling city of Absalom sprawled before them, its ancient streets filled with merchants, travelers, and seekers of fortune. The party—Otto, Snax, and Nitro—stood amidst the chaos, their next destination clear: the Temple of Pharasma in the Ascendant Court. In their possession was a necklace, a token from Rhustyne, who promised them payment in exchange for its delivery.
Before setting off, the group reminisced about their past explorations through the city—the Coins, Westgate, and the many other districts they had visited. Each street of Absalom whispered secrets of a rich history, and their curiosity to uncover it all lingered in the air.
As they made their way to the temple, a pitiful wailing reached their ears. Slumped on a stone stoop, a man sobbed uncontrollably, his form hunched over in despair.
Otto, ever the opportunist, sent his feline companion, Motto, to investigate. The cat rubbed against the man’s legs, prompting a weak, tearful smile as he reached down to scratch its head.
"Who are you?" the man sniffled, barely holding back another sob.
"Otto," the adventurer responded. "What’s got you so down, friend?"
Through hiccupped words, the man—Vertix—explained his plight. He had been an apprentice whitesmith, working under Jarma at a shop called The Dwarven Anvil. But the business was moving to Otari, and Jarma had dismissed him, claiming there was no place for him there. Now jobless and without purpose, he wallowed in self-pity.
"Show us what you can do," Nitro challenged. "If you're any good, maybe we can put in a word for you."
Vertix hesitated before revealing a simple but well-crafted silver chain. His work was decent, though far from masterful. The group humored him, suggesting he fashion something even better and bring it to them the next day. Leaving Vertix with a sloshing mug of ale and a renewed, if drunken, determination, they resumed their journey.
Arriving in the Ascendant Court, the group was met with a sight of divine grandeur. Before them loomed the Starstone Cathedral, a place of legend, where only a few had ever succeeded in the Test of the Starstone, ascending to godhood.
Their guide through the city, who knew its history well, spoke of the four deities who had passed the trial:
The court was filled with hopefuls seeking divine favor, relic merchants hawking "blessed trinkets", and somber memorials to the failed aspirants, those who had attempted the test and perished in the chasm below.
Pausing briefly to take in the significance of the place, the party moved on, making their way to the Temple of Pharasma.
The Lady of Graves Cathedral was in a state of decay. Its roof leaked, its pews lay in ruin, and the once-proud halls of Pharasma’s worship now seemed abandoned by all but a few devoted clerics.
A frazzled woman, Neryl, swept the floors, startled when the group approached.
"Hey there, mate!" Snacks bellowed, sending the woman into a startled jump.
Recovering, Neryl eyed them warily. "Can I… help you?"
Otto produced Rhustyne’s necklace, holding it aloft. "We’re here to collect payment."
Neryl’s brow furrowed. "Payment? For what?"
They explained, though suspicion crept into their minds. Neryl seemed completely unaware of Rhustyne’s existence. To confirm their story, she hurried off to consult her superiors.
Moments later, Abbess Adapex, the temple’s leader, emerged. A woman of poise and authority, she studied the group carefully before turning her gaze to the necklace.
"You say this belonged to Rhustyne?" she asked.
Otto nodded. "She gave it to us for payment. She said you'd know what it was worth."
A moment of silence. Then, the abbess smiled faintly. "Rhustyne… yes. I know her name. Though she has been dead for centuries."
The revelation was met with raised eyebrows and exchanged glances.
"Her writings are foundational to this church," Adapex continued. "This necklace was her divine focus, an artifact of great sentimental value to us."
Otto, ever the keen observer, watched the abbess carefully. Was she lying? Did she covet the artifact for reasons beyond sentiment? Yet, her words rang true—there was no deception in her voice.
"I will offer you 270 gold pieces for it," she said firmly. "It is all we can afford."
The party retreated into a crab-fab-conflab huddle, debating their course of action.
"She’s telling the truth," Otto admitted. "It’s valuable to the church, but it’s no lost relic of power."
Nitro scowled. "Still feels like we could get more for it. Maybe a pawn shop?"
Snacks smirked. "Or we could just bleed the temple dry."
They weighed their options. Could they sell it elsewhere? Possibly. But they trusted the abbess, and—surprisingly—even Snacks had a moment of hesitation at robbing a struggling temple.
Otto sighed. "Fine. 270 gold, and we call it even....Well, one more thing. I think if you add a little plaque here thanking the Sooties, that might help make up the difference from our usual fee."
Otto also suggested the use of a whitesmith they knew to create the plaque, Vertix.
The deal was struck. The Temple of Pharasma reclaimed a piece of its history, and the adventurers walked away richer—and perhaps a little wiser.
As they left, Nitro glanced back at the crumbling structure, a slight frown on her face. Maybe, just maybe, they had done the right thing.
The soots approached Vertix with a job offer from the Temple of Pharasma. They found out that he actually owns a house, which was surprising. The Soots explained the job to Vertix, and prodded for some additional info about The Dwarven Anvil. The soots found that she has some amazing tools and was taught the craft by extremely talented smiths. Not getting much info, the Soots departed...
Their next destination? The Goblin King’s Court—and a meeting with Margaret.