A Pathfinder Society Scenario for characters of 3rd to 7th level (Tier 3–7).
All-out war has erupted on the long-contested border between the crusader nation of Mendev and the demon-infested Worldwound. With the magical defenses that once held the demons at bay failing, defense of the region now falls to small patrols of mobile soldiers to resupply, reinforce, and communicate between the border's many fortresses and outposts. With so much at stake, the Pathfinder Society has enlisted many of its agents to assist in the war effort, both to protect its own interests and to prevent the onrushing tide of demonic attackers from plunging the entire Inner Sea region into chaos. On one such wardstone patrol, however, the party may find itself facing an enemy of an entirely different nature.
Written by Alex Greenshields.
Faction Stories to be progressed: Cheliax, Silver Crusade, Sczarni. Starting location is Nerosyan, calling VC is Jorsal of Lauterbury.
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“Oh, Stlone. You’re a sly one! Want to go another round with me, do you?”
Strong hands have ripped the covers off Luisila’s sleeping form. In the early morning cool, the half-elf arches her back and rolls over, enjoying that pleasant, drowsy state of mind. She opens her eyes purring “What you got for me, baby?” as a bucket of ice cold water is thrown over her naked body.
*Gasping* she jerks to a sitting position, instantly recognising the compact, plain-faced female scurrying for the dorm room exit. The mousey-haired intruder pauses in the doorway, before addressing the priestess in a bright, respectful voice.
“ ‘Morning, Lady Fangwood! The VC asked me to wake you, quickest way I knew how! ‘Fraid I can’t stop to chat. I’m heading off on a hush-hush mission! Can’t tell you where – it’s a secret. See you when I get back from Xer – it’s on the Glass River, in Razmir! KTHXBY!”
Luisila reaches for her whip – but the girl has already gone.
I can always hope she gets carried off by a spider swarm. *sigh* Better go and see what the Venture-Captain wants.
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A middle-aged man walks in, swinging a shiny silver Morningstar. "Yes, this should do," he notes to himself. Looking up, he sees that only Luisila has arrived.
"Well met, Lady Luisila! How have you fared since our last - and I guess it was our first - assignment together. Sad business with the dissolution of the Lantern Lodge."
A wolf quietly follows Desmond into the room and stretches himself out in the corner and promptly dozing off.
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A thin man with a vacant expression wanders into the room. His skin is pale and his hair is white with blue streaks. His outfit is bedecked with feathers and behind him stalks a bird nearly as big as he is. He simply stands there, his pale face smiling and his eyes staring off to nowhere. After nearly a minute he realizes there are other people in the room.
"Why hello! I don't believe we've met. My name is. . ." the sylph is distracted for a few seconds by a butterfly lolling past the window, "Súrë.
He pauses for a moment, smiling, as if proud of himself for remembering this key piece of information. "And who are you folks? You have travelled together, I guess?"
While everyone introduces themselves Súrë has a glazed look as if he does not fully understand the language everyone is speaking.
"Squawk!" the giant bird interjects.
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Varg walks into the room with an intimidating glare on his face. He is all of 6 and one half feet with a deadly Axe and Longhammer, both sheathed across his back. His eyes light up noticeably when he sees Luisila and Desmond.
Hey there, mates. It seems we are back at it again. What's the deal with this mission. Hopefully, I will be able t'wet my Axe.
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Luisila breezes into the room, smiles and bumps derrières with Varg before checking out the be-feathered stranger.
As he stands there with a blank expression on his face, she waves her hand rapidly in front of his eyes. Once he acknowledges her presence, she points at herself and says, “Luisila. What’s your name?”
Upon hearing his reply, Súrë? Really? Sure it is … Then she spies Desmond.
Luisila hurries over to give the ranger a hug, before pinching both of his cheeks like a favorite aunt.
“Oh, I’ve missed though chubby, wubby cheeks! Oh, yes I have, yes I have!”
“What’s this I hear about you and some vertically challenged Battle Herald, Desmond? You’d better not break my heart!”
“Oh, and where’s the brains of the partnership? There he is! Hi, Sahrek!”
Luisila kneels down to give the wolf a hug around the neck and a scratch under the chin.
“How are you, boy? Des hasn’t been embarrassing you in public too often I trust?”
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A tall, fair haired knight of with obvious elven heritage enters.
Under his red cloak, he wears a new suit of platemail along with a shield bearing the crest of Iomedae. His longsword is well kept and shows signs of recent battles.
"Well, I see I have found everyone again. By the Inheritor, I would swear you all were trying to avoid me for some reason. Fortunately, I know you all too well to give it a second thought. Lady Luisila, always a pleasure to see you. Where is your sister?" Omrax says with a bow and slightest of grins.
"Ah Sir Varg, good to see you, my brother at arms. And who have we here? I am Omrax at your service."
He bows to Desmond and Súrë.
As he turns to see Bazresh, he nearly reaches for his sword...but then relaxes.
• I will be temperate in my actions and moderate in my
behavior. I will strive to emulate Iomedae's perfection.
"And you Sir, I do not believe I have had the honor to meet."
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The tall man of obvious Infernal heritage, turns toward Omrax. He wears a polished breastplate with a holy symbol of Sarenrae displayed prominently upon his chest. Greetings Sir Omrax. His gave turns to encompass everyone assembled. I am called Bazresh Izzakesh, though most just call me Baz. It is an honor to meet all of you and I look forward to accomplishing this mission with you all. Sarenrae smiles upon us, I know it.
He adjusts the scimitar at his hip, while running a long-nailed thumb down the sinew string of a longbow across his shoulder. It would appear that some of you have adventured together before, I hope to live up to any expectations you may have.
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Desmond rubs the feeling back into his cheeks. Hands like a vise - interesting! He shrugs off the cleric's insinuation. "Luisila, you know better than anyone how people talk - especially dwarven monks. Purity of mind my..."
But he breaks out in a grin. "Omrax - I am not sure if we have met, but I know we seem to travel in similar circles. Good to team up with you and Varg."
Desmond takes a further look around the room and his eyes settle on the beast of a man. "So, Baz - right? Never worked with a teefling before. I wouldn't worry about living up to any expectations. After my last assignment, I'll just be happy to stay living."
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“Desmond Aesculus! I’m surprised at you! Casting aspersions on poor Shan, when he’s not here to defend himself.”
“Lady Luisila, always a pleasure to see you. Where is your sister?"
Luisila bobs to the shining knight with a genuine smile.
“I’m not certain where Zynep is right now, Omrax. If I had to wager, I would say she’s somewhere wreaking havoc. I do know she plans to take a well-deserved break soon, visiting the homeland of her Varisian forbears.”
Sarenrae smiles upon us ...
Well, yes … assuming She has just returned from a tryst with the Savored Sting!
“Welcome, Good Bazresh! Luisila at your service. From your bearing and demeanor, I gather you are a veteran. I trust your last mission was a success?”
Mendev’s Pathfinder lodge in the capital city of Nerosyan is housed within Starrise Spire, a defensive tower in the outer wall whose pinnacle glows with celestial light that shines out like a beacon, simultaneously giving comfort to Nerosyan’s defenders and acting as a warning to any who might wish the city harm.
"Excuse my interruption, but I presume this is everyone?" Venture-Captain Jorsal of Lauterbury states, entering the meeting room. He calls the meeting to move to a covered balcony overlooking the city. A middle-aged Mwangi man with greying hair, he closes the door to the spire’s interior and takes a seat in one of the set-up camp chairs, gesturing for his guests to do the same. “We Pathfinders of Mendev,” he states, making a sweeping hand gesture that encompasses everyone present, “have our own agendas, but these must sometimes give way to the greater need: the protection of this land and its people from the horrors that dwell in the Worldwound."
"We are here by the grace of her majesty, Queen Galfrey of Mendev. Without her support, we would surely be run out of town by Hulrun’s more fervent followers. Our agreement with her states that all Pathfinders are required to volunteer some of their time in the defense of the realm. As relative newcomers, I’ve recommended you to take part in a minor military mission under the command of a veteran crusader named Sir Ilivan of Erages." The Mwangi man looks out towards the city, as if not adressing anyone in specfic. "Although he is not a Pathfinder, you would be wise to follow his advice, as he has been fighting the Abyssal spawn longer than some of you have been alive. I expect you will give him the respect he deserves."
Shortly thereafter, there is a knock at the door, which Venture-Captain Jorsal stands to open. The heavy, wooden door's opening reveals a tall half-elven man clad in heavy plate armor, wearing a red tabard typical of the Mendevian Crusaders, and carrying a cavalry helmet in his left hand. He gives a professional nod to Jorsal before striding to the front of the group, surveying everyone with poorly disguised disappointment.
"Pathfinders," he barks in quick staccato without further preamble, "our mission is simple. The recent attacks on the wardstones have compromised our defenses, and the enemy presses its advantage. We have received word of attacks on Fort Portolmaeus to the north, but the crusader leadership suspects that other parts of the line may have been breached as well." He begins to pace back and forth, keeping eye contact with someone at all times and continuing to bear his disappointment. "We will proceed to Fort Portolmaeus tomorrow morning on horseback to assess the damage, using the passphrase ‘That the Black Prince might be redeemed’ to permit us entry. On the way there, we will scout for enemy movements and other signs of demon activity. Once we have completed our assessment, we are to return to Nerosyan and you will be relieved of your obligations to the Crown. Do you have any questions?"
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Súrë stares out the window during the briefing by VC Jorsal. He is unfazed when the half-elf enters the room and simply gives him a glance before returning to his cloud-gazing. When the man is finished speaking, Súrë turns to him with a look of surprise on his face. "Oh, hello! My name is Súrë. Who are you? Where are we going?"
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Luisila notes that the symbol on the man’s tabard appears to match Omrax’s holy symbol of the Inheritor.
Do I know anything about this man’s reputation in the church of Iomedae?
What about the significance of the name ‘Black Prince?’
Luisila tries to ask intelligent questions to help lift the crusader’s attitude to the party.
“Excuse me, Sir Ilivan, are you supplying the horses? How long is the patrol likely to last? Will we need to bring our own food? What is the climate like? Is it very cold during the day or night? Should we bring our own portable shelter?”
“I am very much looking forward to dispatching a few demons back from whence they came.”
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Bazresh stands as Sir Ilivan finishes speaking. His hand absently goes to his holy symbol as he begins to speak. We will do our utmost to assist you Sir Ilivan. I give you my word, under the guiding eyes of the Dawnflower, that we will do our utmost to eradicate any twisted mockery of life we encounter. Sarenrae will prove to be an make ally in this endeavor, I assure you. He glances at the party assembled. I have yet to accompany this group before, by my senses tell me that you have a worthyassemblage in front of you. We will do all we can to further to mission of the Silver Crusade, you have my word.
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This must be one of the crusaders Kuaril spoke about. Guess I could chat him up.
surveying everyone with poorly disguised disappointment...keeping eye contact with someone at all times and continuing to bear his disappointment.
Hmm, may need to get on his good side first.
Desmond shifts on his feet, trying to appear attentive to Sir Ilivan. "Do we know of the demons' numbers? When they attack, do they leave their casualties, or do they make off with the dead?"
While nervously cracking the knuckles of his fingers, Desmond inadvertently makes a rude hand gesture in the direction of Sir Ilivan. Upon realizing what he had done, Desmond immediately puts his hands at his side.
To make Sir Ilivan friendlier, you'll need to talk with him in length, though the rolls can carry.
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@GM: You don't need to respond to Súrë when he does that. Also, you can't take 10 on aiding.
Sir Ilivan gives Sure a glare and speaks with the same anger. "I'm Sir Ilivan of Erages, and you're going to be following me into the Abyss to do your duty to the world."
He then looks to Luisila to answer her inquiries. "Since the last major attack, the demonic armies have retreated into the Worldwound’s interior. We will most likely face minor demons sent to test the current efficacy of the wardstones. Expect dretches, brimoraks, and possibly schirs." He begins to pace again, breaking eye contact with the fellow half-elf. "I recommend everyone buy a cold iron weapon and cold weather outfit, as it drops below freezing at night in this part of Avistan. Being those close to the Worldwound, however, unravels the the very fabric of existence and can cause prolonged days or nights, random weather patters, or worse."
Jorsal notes a different inquiry. "The Mendevian Crown has granted each of you use of a light, noncombat trained horse, a saddle, bit and bridle, and saddlebags filled with two days of feed."
Ilivan chimes back in on the inquiry of demons and how to deal with them. "Find a demon or anyone who's a threat to the nation, run them through, I'd say. They're a menace to society. If you're trying to figure out their tactics, it will be on-the-fly. They're crafty, but usually unorganized. To say with any certainty how they'd act in a given situation is, at best, an educated guess."
Ilivan speaks up as he turns for the door. "Well, we leave in an hour. Be ready at the northern gates."
Jorsal speaks up before he leaves. "Bazresh here was present for the initial invasion; I can attest his courage." With that comment, Ilivan nods at the tiefling and takes his leave. Jorsal continues with one unanswered question's answer. "The trip should be one day in, and one day back, given no complications. If there are any run-ins that take more of your time, there are still some pastures in which your mounts can graze. Any rations you wish to have will be of your own pay and volition."
Unless any further questions are presented, he shows you off to the market quarter , leaving you to gather information or buy stuff, and what have you. Just before it, however, Jorsal adds one more notation. "Remember; Ilivan may be the commanding officer on this venture, but you are not soldiers. If you have any qualms about how anything is handled, please voice them. Words held only in the mind and not spoken with the heart can bring no good, and we need every bit of goodness we can get."
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Súrë pipes up, "Cold iron? I've got that!" he motions to a set of shortspears.
"What was that about bad weather? I know about weather!" the flighty sylph ignores the knight and venture captain and goes over to the window, leaning backwards out of it staring up at the sky.
to predict the weather.
Also, Súrë has Resist Storm which gives him +4 saves against weather effects and spells in case I forget.
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After spending a good five minutes with his head out the window, during which time Ilivan has left, Súrë stands back up straight. "I don't know, weather looks pretty clear, you guys." The druid looks around the room, confused. "Hey, where'd that guy go?"
Súrë then smiles broadly and walks up to Luisila. "Hi, my name is Súrë. I don't think we've met before. This is my pet bird."
"Squawk!" confirms the large avian companion.
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The party gathers up at the northernmost gate, ready for travels. Upon everyone's arrival, he wordlessly turns his horse outward and waves you all to follow in a single motion of his hand. Sir Ilivan is now outfitted with a fine-looking lance, a study-looking horse, a number of potions, and other general traveler's gear. He continues to wear his fullplate, sans helmet.
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Desmond preps his horse and takes the opportunity to chat upside Ilvian.
"Sir Ilvian, for how long have you been fighting these demons? Is crusading like this a family tradition, or did you do something else before these troubles came from the worldwound?"
The ranger gives his wolf a pat, then turns back to his train of thought. "You've got some fine gear there. Are you able to keep your men well-supplied? I know a supplier that can outfit your men in whatever you may need. Would you mind letting me know who is the best person to ask about bringing in some business?"
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Omrax waits for Desmond to finish before seeking a word with the commander. "Sir, Ilvian, sir. The Inheritor will guide our swords on this righteous mission. We have fought from hobgoblin witches, to constructs to sentient plants to demons and cultists as a team. I would give my life for them. You have my solemn oath we will not fail, Sir. "
Omrax finishes with a proper military salute.
plus assists and any circumstances for fellow Iomedian?
• I will have faith in the Inheritor. I will channel her
strength through my body. I will shine in her legion,
and I will not tarnish her glory through base actions.
• I am the first into battle, and the last to leave it.
.
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“Omrax, I’m going to go and find out the word on the street about our Lord Commander. Now before you say anything, I think it best I go alone. Your obvious … might and power could frighten off some of the more … timid souls, who might otherwise divulge some good goss to someone a… bit more like them. OK?”
“Now, I’ll be fine. I have our Bazresh’s reputation as a defender of the city to carry as my shield. What say you ask him to help you choose a street vendor that does good mulled wine, and I’ll meet up with you there in a couple of hours?”
♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝♘♝
Later at a dubious drinking establishment, popular with Low Templars from Galt …
“Oh, Jean-Clod, you’re a hard target to track down! Yes, I know you’re a lover not a street fighter, but to avoid sudden death, how about you spill what you know about Sir Ilivan?”
♞ The half-elven soldier was a smuggler on Lake Encarthan before joining the Mendevian Crusades, a fact he is not ashamed to admit.
♞ Sir Ilivan rose from the ranks of the enlisted to become an officer and was knighted by Queen Galfrey.
♞ The knight hails from the half-elven settlement of Erages in Kyonin, where he had to endure prejudice and segregation throughout his youth. He later joined Kyonin’s military, but ultimately left his homeland after being discharged from this military for striking an elven officer.
♞ Sir Ilivan has become increasingly distant in the past few years due to the horrors endured by all soldiers who fight in the Mendevian Crusades. His most devastating experience involved killing a number of fellow soldiers while he was demonically possessed.
♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝♞♝
Luisila will arrive a little early at the northernmost gate hoping to catch Sir Ilvian before the others arrive.
She will approach the man shyly, as if there’s something she needs to confide to her commander before the others arrive.
“Although, I like to make an early start, that’s not the real reason I’m here. All of my companions, to a man are stand-out agents – well, Des may be a bit slow – and I love them all like brothers.”
“In truth, I may be the weakest link. I was not much more than an ordained escort in Absalom, before I joined the Pathfinder Society. As a mixed blood novice of Calistria, I was treated poorly by my ‘full-blooded’ elven superiors at the Pleasure Salon. Indeed High Priestess Dyriana of Avenstar had such a poor opinion of my outlook in the church organization, that she ‘strongly encouraged’ me to join the Pathfinder Society.”
Luisila’s countenance brightens a bit. “But as a Pathfinder, nobody cared if I was a bastard or dolly girl. I have gathered a respectable amount of fame for my time in service, the church elevated me from vicar to dean recently, and I have been invited to claim a baronetcy in Nirmathis by Forest Marshall Gavirk himself.”
“No, what really worries me is what I might have to do if one of our front line warriors succumbs to foul sorcery and turns on rest of the party. Will I have the strength and courage to do the right thing …”
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And for Jean, it was Tuesday.
@Luisila: Ilivan shows up roughly 5 to 10 minutes early. He listens with an interest that seems out-of-character for him (from what you've seen so far.) "And faith has brought you this far? Respectable." He stares into the distance for a moment to take in all that the half-elf said. He looks back to Luisila. "While I have no desire to garner a reputation of browbeating Pathfinders into Her faith, I have to say that your choices will do you little good in the afterlife. Far too close to those the demons revere. I can always appreciate seeing one rise from the dredges of racism, though. Again, respectable."
---How long, and suppliers?
@Desmond: "I've been on the path of the broken warrior for at least thirty years now, though only now do I feel I've become pennant for what I've done." Ilivan shakes his head, as if to rid himself of some thought. "Hardly relevant. You asked of our suppliers. Mendev has a steady flow of cold iron, but I fear not that it will fail us. Mendev will pull through; It always has, and it always will."
---The journey continues down the empty dirt path with nary a single other traveler on the road.
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Súrë tries to pay attention as the others speak with Sir Ilivan but occasionally gets distracted by interested clouds and flying insects. On the journey down the lonely road he occasionally gets off of his horse without warning to leap to the side of the road and examine an interesting plant or insect. "Wow, look at this one! I've never seen a bug like this-OW! It bit me!" Súrë returns to his horse sucking his finger and remains quiet for some time.
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Before meeting up with the group, Bazresh finds his way to the market and makes a few purchases. Afterwards, he rejoins the party and rides along in the middle of group while others speak to Sir Ilivan. When there is a point when Ilinvan is riding alone, Baz spurs his horse into a canter and rides up next to the man, matching his horses pace.
How fare you today Sir Ilivan? I just wanted to take a moment to speak with you if you don't mind. I want to state again, my unwavering faith in the Silver Crusade and our mission. I will perform to the utmost of my abilities under the watchful gaze of Sarenrae. Baz's hand moves to his holy symbol as he forms he next thought. I want you to know that you have my utmost respect as a leader of the armies against this oncoming darkness. Though it is my mission to enlighten wayward people to light of the Dawnflower, I am not so blind in my faith to understand that Iomedae will always be worshipped first, as she should. I proffer that when times are at their darkest, the guiding light of Sarenrae could be a welcome partner to the Inheritor.
Bazresh pauses in his thoughts, staring at the horizon somberly. As Venture-Captain Jorsal stated, I was at the siege. My part was small and my sacrifice minimal compared to the sacrifices other gave.... Baz swallows hard before continuing. I am not ashamed to admit to you, who I am sure saw more terrible things than I, that in between missions when my mind is idle, that when I close my eyes, I see and hear them...the wounded and dying I mean. The carnage, the fires, the screams. It was all so terrible. I have found myself tempted to drown out those images, but Sarenrae has lifted me up and kept me true. My point is that I want to stop these corrupted beings, stop the death and destruction. I would gladly give my life if it would end this madness that is the Worldwound. Baz finishes his thoughts and rides along quietly, listening the Sir Ilivan's reply.
As the two men finish speaking, Baz lets his horse slow, falling behind the knight. Right before getting out of earshot, the tiefling speaks once more. Sir Ilivan, though you do not look to Sarenrae for strength...know that the goddess of redemption is there....
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Luisila smiles THAT vacant **oooh, you’re such a clever, interesting man** smile at Sir Ilvian’s drivel, but catches her right hand moving in the direction of her scorpion whip in time to prevent her subconscious from jeopardizing the mission.
It can wait.
She excuses herself politely at the end of their conversation and drops back to ride with Omrax and Bazresh.
She *rolls her eyes* behind the commander’s back before mouthing to the holy warriors: Your turn.
The priestess keeps a sharp lookout for any threats.
waiting for his reply, Paragraph 3
Ilivan speaks without turning his head to his more talkative, outsider companion. "You and I both. You were a part of the siege. Everyone there saw either tragedy or their demise. The many unfortunate souls saw both." Ilivan takes a pause of his own before continuing. "I'd wager that every soldier back in the Nerosyan that would say the exact same thing, too." He takes a short, but still notable, pause once again. "Bazresh Izzakesh, this is what real war truly is. I would say 'never forget the faces you saw that day,' but it would be a moot point. You can't. You won't. War isn't some game of wordplay and politics like nations tend to make it out to be. What you saw that day was war."
redemption closing quote
Again, the half-elf speaks without meeting the tiefling's gaze. "There are many kind of redemption, though the opportunities are few and far between in a wasteland like this. If your desert goddess is what you take solace, far be it for me to say otherwise. I've found my redemption at the end of a sword, and it's the end I never expected to be at."
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"SIR ILIVAN! WAIT! STOP!" Súrë announces as he speeds ahead to catch up with the half-elf crusader.
As the party halts, Súrë points to a small speck flying about off to the side of the road. "A butterfly! I haven't seen a single butterfly since I arrived in. . . wherever we are now. Isn't that amazing how something so pure and beautiful can persist in a wasteland such as this?"
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Ilivan shakes his head, as if to rid himself of some thought. Plus, what Luisila shared...
Desmond, when he gets the chance, tries to gently press Sir Ilivan for some more information on his past, in light with what Luisila shared with him.
"I can see that you've seen your share of war and battle. While I grew up as a humble farm-boy, since joining the Pathfinders, I've had some experience with battle - though not on the scale that you've had, I'm sure."
"I made the mistake one time of facing off with demons ill-prepared. Neither myself, nor my companions at the time carried any cold-iron weaponry with us. We didn't know what to expect - the Society tells where to go, and we go there. None of us had faced a demon before...of the four of us, I'm the only one that's been given a chance to face one again. My three comrades fell in that forsaken house."
The ranger grows a bit silent, remembering that dark day. "Since that day, I've died once - and was lucky enough to have been brought back. I do not take this task lightly, Sir Ilivan. Demons need to be killed - ain't no bargaining with 'em."
But Sir Ilivan thinks the ranger is just blowing smoke...
Súrë's words seem to do little to his outward disposition, though he does give a moment's pause to wait for the sylph to either begin moving or remount his horse again.
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As Desmond continues his story, Ilivan's face sours a little towards the middle. "Then I can only hope you're ready this time. This place is a constant battlefield; you'd be well-off to be armed and ready at all times." In a leader-like tone, he punctuates his response. "We all have our darker connections and less-than-legitimate allies, but as long as they're helping fight the good fight, they're as good as any."