Chapter 2: City of Trade

Sprawling across a valley of blazing-hot sand, is one of the most incredible and wondrous cities in all of Golarion: the great desert metropolis of Katapesh, the City of Trade. Katapesh is a city of organized chaos where cash is king and commerce is the highest god.

Katapesh overlooks a vast ocean from a sandy promontory above a series of black, glass-like cliffs. Beneath the cliffs, a flat stretch of ground extends to the sea. Katapesh is surrounded by 40-foot-high sandstone walls, topped by ramparts and interspersed with crenelated towers.

As you travel towards the lower entrance to the city, you pass through the Sprawl. The Sprawl is mainly a residential area where laborers have settled outside the city walls. Fishermen, carpenters, masons, chandlers, brick layers, and thatchers make up the majority of the populace here.

The gnomes speak to the armed and armored guards at the gates, warriors who wear colorful tabards and veils over the lower parts of their faces. After a bit, the guards open the gate and allow you access to the city proper.

Once inside, the gnome caravan leader turns to you. "This is where we depart, friends. We are grateful for your assistance. We wish you luck on your next steps!"

Asking the guards about getting an audience with the Pactmasters elicits laughs. "Nobody sees the Pactmasters! Not nobody, not no how!" one quips.

After a bit, they explain that the Pactmasters rarely involve themselves in the day-to-day operations of the city. That is handled by their human liaison, who is known as the Pactbroker. Even getting an audience with him will prove difficult, but perhaps if you were to perform some task to benefit him, he may be willing to make time for you. They suggest speaking with some of the clerks at the Pactbroker's office to find out if there's something you might be able to do.

You spend a few hours asking around the Twilight Gate district about the Pactbroker. You learn his name is Hashim ibn Sayyid. Ibn Sayyid has a reputation for upholding the Pactmasters’ judgments and enacting their laws, whatever his personal feelings. Some suspect ibn Sayyid has a personal agenda that will someday come to light, but for now he enjoys a stable and respected position.

From his readings, Eugene remembers that here in Twilight Gate is the local headquarters of a world-spanning organization of explorers called the Pathfinder Society. The Pathfinders are well-traveled and well-learned in many subjects, including magical knowledge. If you are unable to secure an audience with the Pactmasters, they might be a good alternate source of information about what has happened to you.

This section of the city is a mixture of ancient and modern architecture and the site of many ruins, several of which seem to be tourist attractions, based on the number of people wandering about and marveling at their construction. Nestled among cyclopean ruins and other ancient marvels is an elegant three-tiered building that serves as the Pathfinder Society lodge in Katapesh.

Two hulking constructs stand guard outside of the gates. These looming humanoid figures are made of rune-etched metal and polished stone, with crystalline eyes that glow with blue light. They glare down at you, but perhaps sensing that you do not pose a threat, they let you inside the lodge. Inside is a small lobby area, a pleasant dusky-skinned man stands behind a desk. "Greetings, travelers. Are you fellow Society members?" he inquires.

"Another world, is it?" the clerk asks with a raised eyebrow. "Well, that's certainly an intriguing story. Wait here a moment."

The man ducks into the building proper. After several minutes, he returns with a beckoning gesture. "The Venture-Captain wishes to speak with you. Follow me, please."

Inside the lodge, you can see a dozen or so people dressed like adventurers. Some are relaxing with drinks in hand, others are poring over maps and tomes in a large library. The clerk leads you into an office adorned with numerous art objects and curios. Behind the desk is a woman with gently pointed ears like Michel's. She greets you and bids you to have a seat in one of several chairs arranged before her desk.

"I am Venture-Captain Aurora Steelbloom," she says. "My clerk tells me you claim to have been brought here from another world? I'll admit that you've piqued my curiosity. Please, tell me more."

Aurora nods. "Yes, actually. This isn't the first time something like this has happened," she says. "The Pathfinder Chronicles contain a few tales of visitors who have come to Golarion from other places, be they different planets or even completely different planes of existence. It's rare, but not unheard of. Can you tell me more about your world of origin?"

Aurora's eyebrows lift when she sees Michel's phone. "Fascinating. This looks like one of the technological wonders that have been unearthed in Numeria." Seeing your blank expressions, she elaborates. "Numeria is a land far to the north and east of here. Millenia ago, what we believe was a starfaring craft from another distant planet crashed into the wastes there. Ever since then, the natives and explorers have uncovered items and beings with far greater technology than anything we have yet to develop on Golarion."

She looks to Eugene. "Most visitors who come here via their own power also possess the means to return to their worlds and planes of origin. But your situation seems to be different than that. Something else brought you here. I think by first determining what that was and the purpose of your arrival here may be the first steps in figuring out how to get you back to your homes. It sounds like an adventure-in-the-making worthy of the Chronicles!"

"An archway an obelisk? Intriguing," Aurora says. "If you can tell me where it is, I'll send a team of agents to investigate it further. Maybe we can learn some clues as to its origin and purpose. And as a means of repayment, I do believe we have some tasks around the city that you can help us with."

She sifts through some papers on her desk, eventually pulling forth a piece of parchment emblazoned with the emblem of a golden set of scales. "Ah, here we are. This is a promissory note from the bank of Abadar. There's a merchant in the Nighstalls by the name of Palhuna Murqual. He's recently acquired a collection that the Pathfinder Society is interested in purchasing: the Monadistic Archive, a collection of scrolls from the Jistkan Imperium. The note should cover his asking price, but Murqual is crafty and may bargain for more. I can’t pay more gold than I already have offered, but if you can find other means of appeasing Murqual, I encourage you to do so. Do you have any questions?"

"Palhuna Murqual is known as one of the preeminent vendors of local antiquities, both magical and mundane. He's had some recent legal troubles lately, though, and rumor is he's looking for agents to get a few things done. You may be able to leverage that to your advantage."

---

Finding Murqual’s shop is easy enough. A few inquiries lead you to the Lower City of Katapesh, the largest and most densely populated section of the city. The Lower City contains the city’s sprawling docks and possibly the world’s largest bazaar—a collection of kiosks, tents, huts, carts, or simply rugs on open spaces of ground displaying a few odds and ends. The Lower City Bazaar stretches the entire length of the city, and nearly anything can be bought or sold there.

His establishment defies the stereotype for a shop in the infamous Nightstalls. It boasts a permanent location, instead of one that could be broken down and moved with ease. It is quite lavishly appointed, rather than being a shadowy, smoky hovel, and the air smells of vanilla and cardamom rather than incense. Inside, deep carpeting covers the floor. All sorts of curios and knickknacks adorn the shelves around the shop. A slim young man stands behind the counter, holding a ledger.

He gives you a slight bow as you enter. "Welcome. I am Palhuna Murqual. Have you come for business, or would you just like to browse?"

Murqual happily shows you some of his wares, including an elaborate clockwork owl, a glass orb that appears to have a miniature electric storm trapped within it, and a gleaming scimitar with a blade seemingly made of solid gold. All of the items, unfortunately, cost much more than you can afford at this point in time.

"Now, what is this business you have come to speak of?" Murqual asks curiously once the tour is complete.

"Ah, so you here on the behalf of the Pathfinder Society," Murqual says with a knowing nod. "I assume they sent you with an offer?"

When shown the promissory note, the merchant nods appreciatively. "Not bad. But I have already received another offer for the item well exceeding this one. While I respect the Pathfinder Society, to sell to you would seem favoritism. And I’m not inclined to favor one customer over another—without there being an equal favor, in return..."

Murqual hesitates a moment before replying. "I have two tasks for you, actually. First, I have some special goods being delivered by problematic dealers. They are kholos. I've had dealings with this tribe before. They tend to ‘forget’ the agreed upon price. You’ll be carrying some additional funds—I regard it as a standard tax when dealing with them—but beyond that, I expect you to convince them that they’re not getting any extra.

"Second, a recent acquisition of mine has some unpleasant protective magic that I need dealt with. It is a mask that allows its wearer to frighten those who would threaten them. Unfortunately, it has a minor fiend bound to it as a guardian. I would have you eradicate the fiend. Somewhere away from the shop, of course. Maybe not on the streets, either—we don’t want any passerby victims. There’s a flat-roofed warehouse nearby. It should suffice.

"Complete both tasks, and I will sell you the Archive."

"I'm not entirely sure what kind of fiend it is, but it has the stink of Abaddon about it. Given the origins of the mask, I believe it’s a creature called a div. They are weak to holy weapons and those made of cold iron. As it so happens, I do have a cold iron rapier here in my shop. I'll let you use it, and if you defeat the fiend, the blade is yours to keep, as well."

Murqual sets you up with a small donkey-pulled cart before you depart his shop. Most of its contents consist of trade goods, bolts of cloth, and several casks of liquor. In addition, he gives you two sacks containing 100 gp each as additional "payment" if the kholos prove recalcitrant.

By night, the streets of the Twilight Gate district are mostly empty. The courtyard surrounding the Ruined Monastery, a popular tourist attraction by day, is even more deserted than the surrounding streets. Shadows lie thick underneath these crumbling walls.

A pair of the hyena-headed kholos wait for you in the plaza. Behind them in the gloom is a small crate. They snarl at you in disdain before one of them, a larger female, steps forward. "You are not the normal humans that Murqual usually sends. Who are you?"

The kholos grumble and complain as they inspect what you've brought. ("These linens are mothridden." "There’s only one donkey?" "Do they expect the tribe to starve?") Eventually, the female turns to you again. "This stuff is not worth the cost of what Murqual wants. We are going to need more compensation."

Rone's persuasive words seem to pierce the kholos' bluster. The female snorts. "Fine. It is begrudgingly, but we will accept the trade." They hand over the crates of goods they have procured for Murqual. Once they have their payment, the pair swiftly departs.

Murqual’s directions lead to a rickety iron ladder in an alleyway that climbs the side of a long, low warehouse. The roof is canted at a slight enough angle that it might as well be flat. Several other rooftops are adjacent, at more or less equal height, forming an L-shaped superstructure.

The mask itself is made from crimson-and-white lacquer, and Murqual has given you its command word: "chalifan." Speaking the command word causes it to exhale a white-and-red cloud of smoke. A trio of foggy shapes spiral out of the growing cloud, hovering in the air around you. Each shape resolves itself into a creature that resembles a disembodied and bestial head covered in lashing hair and curling horns! The things snarl as they prepare to attack.