THRAKDUR
You chase the fleeing Ganod through the crowd, shoving aside officials here and there and raising shouts of mayhem; at the edge of the crowd, two Imperial guards - not knowing what you're doing - manage to bar your way, but they also stop Ganod long enough for you to grab him - but he slips out of his cloak and escapes. Damn. Still, some fast talking and some commands from the new but grumpy Imperial Inquisitor and you're free to go, with the cloak. Maybe someone will recognise it?
(You gain: Cloak worn by Ganod? A weathered thing, though thankfully not patchwork. The material is unfamiliar to your eyes.)
---
DEKEN
After rescuing Thrakdur from some minor mishap with the guards - some old friend he saw or something, he'll tell you more later - you mingle casually with the crowd, hoping to get a lay of the land. It doesn't seem that the locals are too happy with the Imperium's decision: no-one says anything to your face, but you hear mutterings and whispers of this being another power play, an insult to the Chuunian Kingdoms. Still, the Collegiate delegation in attendence is cordial enough; perhaps you'll have an opportunity to demonstrate publically the benefits of regulation?
---
EIN
Was the mirror like this before you started drinking? You're not entirely certain. Still, it doesn't seem harmful... at present. Better keep an eye on it.
---
SERRICK
A river passes through Haven, carefully tendered, vaguely unnatural, bridged and dammed and crafted to appear natural - but a river, nonetheless. The animals that live within it whisper bubbly secrets in your ear, and you think you might have some idea of how to speak if you ever have the opportunity to meet some Merfolk.
By the way, Serrick, I just noticed I've completely forgotten about a core part of the druid: Druid shape forms always have a 'tell' of sorts so that they can always be identified. For instance, a distinctive pattern, or always having ram horns, or bright blue eyes with no pupils, or something. What's yours?
---
WAYMORE
Basso grins and places the purse in your hand. "Jonathan might not like you, but I don't think he liked Bleakwood much either," he says. "Thanks for the help. I'd lie low were I you, though; seems too many know your name these days."
(Gain 50 coin and you are now notorious in the Xingchu Underworld.)
---
---
Five days later, you find yourselves all summoned to the Admiral's chambers. Arthur's lictors greet you all and hustle you within, where Arthur is pacing back and forth, the Admiral watching the harbour.
"I have been recalled," says Arthur curtly. "Well, I was always to be recalled, but this is somewhat earlier than I had imagined..."
"Magister," the Admiral says, inclining her head towards Deken. "I hate to distract you from your... task so early, but this is an urgent matter. Magister Rykert here was to act on our behalf, but bereft of his magical expertise, we can turn only to you and your companions."
The situation is thus: An contested Imperial Outpost to the North, in a only recently pacified area, has been experiencing strange weather phenomenon; ice storms in summer, weeks of rain, sunlight concentrated in particular spots for days at a time. The area (Thrakdur, what is its name? It's close to the Steppes, but much more heavily forested) is, if not on the verge of revolt, rather close; the weather is not only inconveniencing local roads, but ruining harvests and fouling milk and all that other stuff. To add to all of this, a mysterious figure - some folk hero or the other - is attacking Imperial tax collectors and other less-well guarded figures of Imperium alike.
"It's a charged situation and one I would not send freelancers on," says the Admiral, "But an Imperial agent... if not Inquisitor... is a different matter. Though, to be honest," she sighs, "I'm not certain if you would address or inflame the situation at present."
What do you do?