It is a warm, clear night in late Arodus. Pawlingsley steps out his front door with a full stomach and two small glasses of port. He takes a deep, satisfied breath, and wrinkles his nose, as a gentle breeze comes from the west, bringing with it the foul stench of the Fogfen.
He walks around to the rear of his humble home, and trundles over to Wrin Sivinxi, already seated in one of her low chairs, with the back at an oblique angle perfect for gazing at the stars. Pawlingsley hands her a glass of port, and sits next to her.
They are odd friends, she a tall tiefling with mild claustrophobia, he a diminutive gnome with a long heritage of living deep underground. But her love for, and some would say obsession with, the stars is infectious, and he has overcome his little bit of agoraphobia to enjoy gazing into and contemplating the cosmos almost as much as she.
After staring at the stars for a moment, Pawlingsley turns his head and notices that Wrin is not gazing at the stars, but instead is looking off to the northwest, with a deeply concerned look in her pupilless eyes. “What worries you so tonight, friend?” He inquires.
“For the past three nights, the stars have portended deeply troubling events. Worse yet, I have perceived a haunting light emanating from the top of the Gauntlight. Can you see it?”
Pawlingsley squints his eyes and glares out at the lighthouse about a mile outside of town, strangely well inland of the docks. He sees nothing. “I cannot. Though I know your eyes can often see the unseen, especially with regard to the occult.”
She takes a small sip of her port, and a long pause. “I would not ask this of you, my friend, if I did not think it were of vital importance to the whole of Otari, and that you were up to the task.” She takes another sip. “Do you think perhaps the Family Elliverick might be willing to head to the Gauntlight and investigate tomorrow?”
Pawlingsley takes his own draught of the port. “Friend, if you are that concerned, I do not know how I can refuse. I will discuss it with them this evening.”
They go at dawn.