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A 6,3 ft towering man with long, thick hair and beard stands in the room. Dressed in simple, coarse clothes over a green dragonhide armor, he looks like someone who has always lived in forests or in remote countryside. Carrying several weapons - spears, longbow, scimitar, greataxe - he seems like quite a capable fighter. A man of few words, he simply introduces himself as Beromir.
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Why, how wonderful! That lady I seranaded last night was quite right - this is the place to find opportunities for daring deeds and flashing steel!
Well meet compadres, I am Sirir Wilm Tsalion. Here to prove my mettle and ascend the dizzying steps of fame and renown. I look forward to our onward journey together - may it bring wealth and prestige to every man jack of us.
The plucky halfling wears strange hexagonal armour, a deep red cloak and hefts a large axe across his shoulders. He's all smiles and has a confident and assured manner.
So, who amongst us excels in what fields? Do we have the front, middle and back lines covered?
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Late to the gathering, a hooded figure in a black cloak steps out of the shadows. You can tell that he is humanoid, but bears the talons of a bird of prey instead of feet, and has several exotic blades on belts.
With a deep eastern bow, he addresses the group with a cackle.
"Caw...Waki...Waki Huro am I. Great honor it is to serve with you hairy, I mean humanoids. Third mission this mine is. "
You find yourself summoned to the office of Venture-Captain Brackett. With a thump, the VC sets a rounded granite stone on his desk. The stone is polished smooth and veined with shallow carvings reminiscent of constellations. “This is a lorestone, from the depths of the Verduran Forest. It’s rumored to hold all of the secrets of the druids of that ancient wood. Just over two years ago, a group of Pathfinders recovered this stone for us. We’re not much closer to cracking its secrets than we were on the day those agents put it into our hands, but we have gleaned one interesting bit of knowledge.
“The lorestone tells of a lengthy ritual using an artifact called the Atavistic Splinter, a piece of charred bark touched by Gozreh himself. The ritual transforms humanoids into bestial creatures with preternatural resilience. We could use something with this kind of power for the upcoming Ruby Phoenix Tournament in Goka, so we need you to recover the Atavistic Splinter for us.
“We believe the artifact is near the gnome town of Wispil, deep in the Verduran Forest. A Pathfinder operative there—a gnome herbalist named Falbin—was investigating increased lycanthrope activity south of Wispil. Falbin discovered that a sinister cabal of druids in a compound called Briar Henge is using the Atavistic Splinter to perform the ritual, probably to drive out the local loggers, but he couldn’t recover the Atavistic Splinter from the druids by himself.
“Go to Wispil and contact Falbin there. He will provide you with directions to Briar Henge and recent intelligence regarding the situation around Wispil. Then use this information to infiltrate Briar Henge and acquire the Atavistic Splinter.”
Brackett sets a steady gaze on you, but will answer any questions you may have.
creatures made of thorns.
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"I'm Graxzos, called Grax by m'friends, probably called Graxzos by you lot," the dwarf says sunnily to the others before turning back to the Venture-Captain who summoned them.
"Druids gone awry, eh? Can't say as I'm surprised--where I come from, too much time in the wilderness's liable to cook anyone's brain." He spits into a corner. "And were types too...better get meself some o' them silvered bullets. Any particular dangers we should be on the look out for, 'side crazy hillbillies and nasty beastmen? Any political spots to avoid or cursed 'abitations to delve into?"
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Great, so we have the beardy Human axe and nature guy, gruff the Dwarf gun-guy, the gruffer Human sword guy, the slightly spooky bird ninja guy and the super spooky lizardy mage guy! I love hanging out with adventuring types!
Wilm listens intently to the briefing, as the captain speaks you see him gulp occasionally.
Ok, got it, go to the place, talk to the guy, find out what's happening, kill things, get the goodies. Sounds easy enough
Looking around, a almost hesitant look plays across his face.
So, fellows and employer. I am new to the business of facing Lycanthropes, but have heard the tales. To be able to fully contribute to this endeavour I am going to need some additional equipment. Would any of you fine fellows, or employer be able to spot me say 50gp to avail myself of the necessary? More would be even better, but I imagine that might be taking the proverbial biscuit. It would certainly be to the good of the expedition!
That winning smile, such a nice way with words, who wouldn't want to help such a charming halfing...
Brackett is nonplussed at the mysterious ninja's unusual syntax, 'Takes all kinds in this Society'. He nods his head and answers the question, "It's a piece of charred bark about two feet long, ten inches wide, and an inch thick."
"Any other questions?"
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Wilm beams with pleasure at the clink of coins exchanging hands. Thanks fellows, let me assure you that the loans will be repaid in full and prove worth making on the field of battle!
Thinking more on what the venture captain said. So, this splinter group, ha-ha, get it? Do we know what the 'normal' druids will make of us showing up, killing them and taking this artifact - and do we need to conceal our pathfinder status or worry about causing some kind of political situation?
Come to think of it Beromir, will you be able to help us get in undercover like - what you being a druid too...
Brackett shrugs his shoulders at Beromir's questions. "We don't know the numbers. If you find that we've sent you to deal with a problem that is too much for you, feel free to send word you require aid. We imagine that there may be some cooperation with fey - at least, it makes sense that they are, though we don't know for sure."
He then turns to the hairy dwarf, "Kill what needs to be killed. This is something that needs to be stopped before things get out of hand. And don't worry about what these druids will think. If they're involved with the ritual, they must be stopped. You don't need to kill them if you choose not to, but this ritual must not be completed."
“The ritual robs the subjects of their wits but imbues them with physical power. That’s really all we know. Despite their bestial appearance, these animal-men aren’t lycanthropes. Falbin will know more. He's in Wispil and shouldn't be hard to find, as we've sent word this morning letting him know of your arrival.”
[b]“But you must hurry. The ritual takes several weeks. But as it will take almost two weeks to get to Wispil from here, you’d better hurry on your way. If these druids finish the ritual, they might take the Atavistic Splinter away to some better-hidden location.”
He sits back down behind his desk. "Now, I don't think I can provide you with any more information. Good luck, Pathfinders."
With that you are excused.
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Journies to far off lands! Terrible rituals to be averted, ancient cults to be confronted - such is the making of tales of fame and renown! Thank you venture captain, we shall not disappoint.
Wilm is all excitement and anticipation.
thanks compadres for the cash advance, I certainly need some bits to face these monsters, anyone else wanting to hit the shops? Where and when shall we reconvene?
Wilm spends an enjoyable few hours chatting and milling around the arms districts whilst making his purchases.
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Graxzos chuckles over the halfling's enthusiasm. "Such is the makin' of lots and lots of cash, some from the Society--I expect," he says, fixing Venture-Captain Brackett with a steely glare, "and some from the sale o' the wondrous treasures we'll no doubt be able to, uh, liberate from these wacko druids and their messed-up pets. I got some shoppin' t'do meself...meet y'all at the boat."
When you next see Graxzos, the dwarf is sitting in a corner of the boat, his goggles are pulled down over his eyes and he's perched on a barrel in the corner of the boat that's to bear everyone away from Absalom. Any attempts at conversation are met with a muttered, "Go 'way, 'm busy," as the dwarf tinkers with several lumps of metal--one clearly silver--and some strange, bad-smelling chemicals in front of him. He seems to have added another strange drinking horn to his belt...
20 silver bullets: 50 gp
11 regular bullets: 1 gp, 1 sp
15 doses black powder: 1 gp
Second powder horn: 3 gp
4 doses of silver weapon blanch: 20 gp
TOTAL: 75 gp, 1 sp
Wispil is a bustling town built on a small scale—although humans and elves walk the streets, most buildings are built to accommodate the gnomes who live and work in Wispil. The scent of fresh-cut lumber wafts through the town. Falbin’s home is not difficult to find. It is situated on the south edge of the town, with a large garden spreading out behind it. Most of the garden is obscured by high growth, but the sound of a violent argument carries into the street. Although it is not yet dark, firelight glimmers from within the garden walls.
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Graxzos strides cheerfully through the gnome-sized town, goggles up now that he's not working, and much more personable than he was on the boat. He sniffs. "Damn lot of trees in this yer part o' the world! That's a strange, new scent t'me, I'll tell ya that much." He looks around curiously as the group makes its way through the town to the south, drinking everything in. "How in the name o' Cayden do you see anythin', livin' up here?"
When he hears the argument from the garden, Graxzos's face turns grim, and he slides his goggles down over his eyes. Looking about, he tries to locate a gate or similar, and if he can find a spot to do so, he attempts to peer into the garden, or, failing that, listen to make out the details of the conversation.
"What d'ya reckon? Make ourselves known?" he whispers, loading his pistol. "Could be a domestic dispute, or somethin' worse..."
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Having enjoyed the boat ride, and (probably) unsuccessfully tried to get his compatriots talking more, Wilm bounces off the boat and struts down the streets - astride his Wolf Maximilian.
What ho!
Hi there!
How fares thee?
When they arrive at the Gnomes home he becomes more serious. (whipser) Though small in stature, I'm not really the sneaking type. It's good we've got spooky bird guy with us... That said, should some of us look for the back door?
If at least one other of the team wants to go round the back then he does that. (keeping a wide distance so not sneaking.) If no one wants to do that then he waits at the door - axe ready.
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Kelsier tries to listen in on the conversation as well.
He nods at the Halfling's suggestion and follows him around to the back of the house.
-Posted with Wayfinder
As you draw closer to the house, you cannot help but notice that the flickering light that you had spotted is being produced by three fires that have been started in the garden.
At the far end, a gnome is cowering beneath a statue. Three rough-looking men, each with two silvered short swords drawn, stop their yelling as you approach.
"You think these fellas will protect you, Falbin?"
Their demeanor suggests that hostilities are about to commence.
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Waki will continue sneaking, moving into the garden and keeping low. Trying to get on the other side of one of the thugs.
as he doubles his movement (half for sneak) for 30' east.
He walks smack into a cornstalk and turns back to the party...holding a finger up to his beak in a shhhh fashion.
Helps it does if you look at me not while sneak I try."
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"Hoy! No need to go rough-housin' here!" Graxzos bellows as he strides forward, cocking his pistol and squinting at the thug in the garden. "We need to talk to the gnome! Go on about your business and we'll not bother ye anymore!"
The report from his pistol echoes through the garden. "Anymore than that," he says grimly. "G'wan, get outta here!"