As the group (minus one) finishes introducing themselves the door bursts open and Hamshanks pounds into the meeting room. For a moment the ruckus from outside in the main room can be heard, but then Hamshanks slams the door shut with a bang that echoes in your ears. Ignoring all pretense of pleasantries, the Venture-Captain walks around to the head of the table, shoving aside the chair placed there. He leans on the wooden surface with clenched fists, “Never time to do it right, is there? Gorum see us through this, then.” He grunts loudly and levels his glare at the entire room.
“I hope you lot aren't drunk, because I've got a lot to say and no time to repeat it. Ever been to Qadira? Religion is almost a fad down there, with new cults springing up like weeds and getting crushed just as quickly. It has been that way for centuries." One large hand comes up to scratch the stubbley beard covering his chin.
“But some make a mark—on Qadira or in the Chronicles. Three centuries ago, the archdevil Moloch, preaching surrender to the desert heat, suddenly became all the rage. Qadirans walked into the desert to die just as if the heat was their paradise. The most devout of them sought out the hidden Citadel of Flame, where a fearsome bull-headed idol of Moloch judged them. The worthy were sent to Malebolge, the sixth layer of Hell. No surprise that Sarenrae’s priests launched a mighty crusade to demolish the citadel. But after two weeks, a great sandstorm swallowed the entire expedition—and, it seemed, the citadel and its idol. Nothing more was heard from either." The Venture-Captain glares again at everyone, as if to make sure they were still listening well, though it would be easier to fall asleep to the sound of fighting dogs than to this man.
“Until ten days ago, that is. Sandstorms regularly scour the Qadiran highlands, and this time they emptied an entire valley of dunes. Poking out of that valley, visible only to those soaring above—such as a flying Pathfinder wizard—was the lofty spire of a fortress: the Citadel of Flame, presumably."
Hamshanks straightens up and gestures to the assembled Pathfinders. “Hopefully we are the first to learn about its reappearance and we need to act fast. The Decemvirate doesn’t expect any trouble, so they’re sending you. But I do expect trouble—who knows what’s infesting that citadel? Get in there fast and find that idol—it could be the key to the entire cult. It’s likely statue-sized, maybe as big as me, and should have a bull’s head on it. And for Gorum’s sake be careful.”
With that, Hamshanks crosses his arms and glares at the group with a raised eyebrow. Obviously if anyone wants to ask a question, they better do it quick, for it seems like the Venture-Captain has plenty of better places to be.