It begins.
Gus never meant to be a hero.
He meant to be a shepherd, but sheep hated him with a burning passion. After nearly being mauled by a herd he was demoted to goatherd.
And the goats LOVED him. And he loved the goats. But not in a carnal fashion. At least not often.
Over the next five years he spent most of his time with the goats, living in lean-to's or small shacks in moonlit fields, eating what he caught (mostly quail) or what he could fish (mostly trout) or what he could gather (mostly dandelions.) But he learned about nature. And goats. And he became attached to one of the goats, a fierce fellow he creatively named Goat.
Gus grew to be a man. A shaggy, ill-mannered man. Who reeked of goats. Women tended to avoid him. Children tended to throw things at him. But the goats? The goats loved him. And their's was the only opinion that mattered.
And then came the lucky day. While moving to a new pasture, Gus came across a body. The man was dead, having been devoured by one of the local monsters that frequently tried to steal his goats. But what the man left behind was magical. A beautifully made morningstar, good for whacking things with. A wooden shield of a fine darkwood, good for hiding behind. A magical bead that turned into a campfire! And oh so many jewels. With his new fortune he had a set of beautiful goatskin armor made, with a matching goat horn helm. Gus the Goat was born!
And then everything went downhill...
For being on the Isle of Kortos, the port city of Diobel is a relatively quiet one. Every day, day after day, business goes on as usual - fishers fish, merchants hawk, blacksmiths hammer, sailors sail...it goes on and on. Everything interesting about the Isle was long thought to have been discovered - it was the headquarters of the Pathfinder Society, after all, and they love to uncover mysteries. But maybe it was that they left themselves something to discover, or maybe a magical ward decayed and fell apart, or maybe something new got built below the city, because one day a few weeks ago, a mage apprentice has accidentally dropped his glasses of magic detection between a few boards on the docks, and was ironically trying to detect them when he discovered a massive wave of magic emanating from beneath the city.
After retrieving his glasses, he went back topside to tell his master, and the master told his colleagues, and eventually word reached the Grand Lodge in Absalom. It wasn't long before a relatively novice Pathfinder - the Diobel native Cruril, a charming and intelligent halfling that had left some five years prior to join the Cyphermages - was send to investigate.
Well, it's been four days since Cruril went down there, and nothing has been heard from him at all. Concerned that something dangerous got found beneath the city, the Lord Mayor has decided to convene a council - any threats must quickly be exterminated. Beyond that, Cruril was...beloved, in some circles, and there is a reward for his safe return.
There is also a smaller reward for the retrieval of his corpse and possessions.
The meeting to determine volunteers for the potentially dangerous task is this evening - detractors have made fun of it, stating that they don't want to wander in the sewers looking for a halfling that probably fell down a hole that's too deep for him to reach out of, but him family, most notably his sister, desperately wish for Cruril's return.
The goatish looking fellow in the goatskin armor with his pet goat stands alone, mainly because everyone he stood next to made gagging sounds and moved swiftly away. He waits, one hand on his morningstar, the other on his goat, who chews at a tapestry that obviously was much more valuable just a few moments before. He mutters to the goat as he stands, "Ah reckon Ah met Cruril once. Short feller. Didn't much care for the way 'e looked at me. But if'n his people wanna pay fer some'un ta go find him, Ah reckon we can. Been a might bored since them owlbears et the herd. Yep."
A dark mass seems to gallop into town, flitting by the people on the outlying edges of the town. These people caught glimpses of dark hair, a wet nose, metal spikes, and green armor. When she finally slows in front of Diobel's Pathfinder Society lodge, the guards see a young halfling woman leap off the back of a pitch-black riding dog. Her leaf armor is the only part of her garb that isn't black, save the purplish sheen of her billowing cloak. Her face portrays well the fury building within her, and the morningstar in her hand punctuates that attitude. Strutting up to one of them, she says, with the calm of a disappointed mother, "With whom do I speak about the quest to recover Cruril?"
While most of the crowd stands apart from the man with his goat due to the smell, G'mork stands apart to keep himself under control. It wasn't likely that his body would betray him and devour the animal, but there were more important things going on and it could not be left to chance. Even from several feet away, G'mork could smell its flesh. The lack of fear in its scent made the idea even more appealing. It assumed that it was safe, that beasts couldn't hurt it here. G'mork's mouth opened and his tongue rolled out as he began quietly panting, imagining tearing its flesh while it screamed.
Quickly shaking his head, he stepped further away towards an Elf, trying to disguse himself as being a "pet", but people moved even more rapidly away from than they had the man with the goat. G'mork showed zero reaction to this, and simply sat down, keeping his ears perked, but otherwise giving the appearance as just a large, yet docile dog. Curious to see who else would volunteer before he tagged along.
Dwynra stomps up to the guard on the right in such a way as would be intimidating if she were more than 2'11" tall. Smashing her mace into the wall between the man's legs, she speaks again, "Did I stutter?! With whom do I speak!?" With that her shadow on the ground begins to grow, and her eyes grow darker. This is intimidating.
The guard jumps back a bit at her mace blow, and replies, "Um, yes, the Lord Mayor is holding a meeting in the Town Hall about his recovery...asking for volunteers!" He steps forward, gingerly, and points down the street. "That way! Two streets down, take a right, and go another one street. You can't miss it, it's a big, white building."
Overhearing the directions, Gus nods slowly, whistles for Sheep and begins ambling toward the Town Hall.
"See now, was that so hard?" Dwynra asks sarcastically before clicking her fingers to call Rebus, her riding dog, to her side. Hoisting herself up on his back, she says "Git!" And the dog gallops down the steps and off two streets down. Rebus rounds the right turn like he's flying and then up to the steps of Town Hall. "He wasn't kidding," the sorceress says, eyeing the magnificent white building. She heads inside, subconsciously deciding to remain aback her trusty dog most likely because she feels intimidated by the size of the building. She seeks out the Lord Mayor, asking questions of those she sees in the entryway or the foyer beyond.
Down at the docks, Ellie's busy once again at the start of her day, loading her work sack with post and parcels for delivery, while placing heavier items such as imported furniture and bags of meat/fish for the local stores, butchers and fishmongers.
Always keeping her hood up, looking down and saying very little as she goes about her business, the young girl never really gives too much away about her character, and others often mistake her for a young transport boy, what with the role she's in and all.
Hear ye, Hear ye! Local and beloved Pathfinder, Cruril, goes missing!
This was something Ellie heard all morning. It seemed to be of a certain importance as many local paper boys read out the same headline over and over again.
Cruril? I wonder if ol' Betsy knows who this is? It couldn't hurt to inquire after work.
After several trips back and fourth from the docks, Ellie heads down some of the back alleys as usual and enters the back door of the home she stays in. Closing the door behind her and pulling back her hood, Old Betsy is seen, having a cup of tea by the fire.
Heya! It's just me! I've finished my work for the day now! said the girl, hanging her hooded cloak up on the clothes stand before making herself a quick bite to eat.
Sitting down in an armchair next to the old lady, Ellie spoke I was out on my usual shift earlier when I heard the same story from the loczl paper boys, being read over and over again. "local and beloved Pathfinder, Cruril, goes missing". Does the name mean anything to you? I've not heard it before.
Now knowing exactly where to go, the trio heads to the pillored white house that is the Town Hall. Once each of them pulls open the large wooden double doors in front, they see that the room inside is already pretty crowded - about a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty people are crowded into the meeting room, with the mayor at the head of the room.
Lord Avid is already in the middle of his speech when the first of the three enters the meeting hall.
"- last seen in the main part of the sewers, obviously, but from what I understand of the information given by the Pathfinder Society, there was an additional section of caverns discovered down there. Cruril must have broken his way into the additional cavern-system, and gotten lost in there. Not only have we lost Cruril, but we've had reports of strange flying creatures and new predators stalking our sewers and our docks. We've already had those discovered killed, and we had the hole plugged, but that's only a partial solution."
"I'd like to call upon our community. I haven't seen an experienced monster-hunter around these parts for a while now, and we can't afford to wait - I'm offering a hundred and fifty gold apiece, as well as the eternal gratitude and adoration of my office, to each person who volunteers to go beneath the docks and discover Cruril's fate. Alive or dead, if you bring proof of what happened to him, you'll have your reward."
The old lady that adopted Ellie looks up from her cup and smiles widely at Ellie, the deep cracks in her skin showing. After settling Ellie in to a comfortable chair beside the fire as well, and handing her a hot cup to warm her hands and belly, she answers, "Cruril? He's an adventurer, isn't he? From around here, left to find fame and fortune? I know his sister. Nice little lady, she is."
Hearing the words "Alive or dead" sends a chill through Dwynra's very soul. She shakes her head vigorously, No! she thinks, He's still alive, he's got to be. And I've got to go find him. "I volunteer!" She shouts from atop Rebus' saddle. The less eager around her clear the way as she and Rebus respectfully approach the Mayor.
Gus chews on his stalk of wheat thoughtfully. Except you can see no thoughts in his eyes. The Goat bleats and steps forward, and Gus shrugs. "Ah reckon if you need some'un to find the li'l guy, Goat and me'll help. Yep. Don't much mind sewers. Never saw the problem with a little odor."
The halfling perched on her riding dog was a curiosity to G'mork. The scent that comes off her is of a different kind of fear than the rest. While most of the people in attendance were concerned of what these new creatures might mean for their town, her worry lie elsewhere. 'It is rather like the Pathfinder Society to stir up trouble in people's lives.' the wolf thinks. 'But that isn't her motivation either.'
For a moment, G'mork considers that perhaps she was a slave to the beast below her, but a quick look in the dog's eyes was enough to convince G'mork that it held no more intelligence than the bleating goat, or its bleating shepherd for that matter.
Uncertain of what her stake in it might be, G'mork knows that he would have to stick close. Whatever the boy may have found, it may well have been better off buried. Letting his tongue loll out passively, G'mork trots after them to the front, and sits down, doing his best to appear docile beside the other ignorant animals.
Dwynra nods to the pleasant shepherd, and regards the bright-eyed wolf-creature with passive confusion. "Will no one else come forward?" she cries, looking at the room full of what she hopes aren't simply hypocritical attention seekers.
Dwynra's ardent plea is met with silence and an awkward amount of cowardice from the many people around them. Beside Dwynra, a tired old man coughs, "We have better things to do, I think, than look for some lost halfling. Condolences and all, and good luck to you and yours - but I've got a job to do. Unlike some."
The Mayor waits a few moments before nodding and accepting the three volunteers up onto the stage, giving them all a short speech and a warning of the potential dangers inherent in an unknown, magically-enhanced zone. And then he sends them away. "There will be a dockhand waiting for you down in the sewers, to show the direction you should be going in."
Dwynra scoffs at the man, "Clearly you have no family, or you would understand that saving a lost soul is far more important than any monetary endeavor."
On the way to the sewers the sorceress entertainer turns to goat herder and thanks him, vocally this time, "Thank you so much for volunteering, my name is Dwynra, what is yours? And is this your...er...wolf?" She says indicating .
"Ah'm Gus. This's Goat. Ah dunno nothin' bout that dog thar."
Dwynra's brow furrows as she looks back at the odd wolf. She walks beside him, his head almost reaching her own and says, uneasily, "Did you come of your own volition, friend?" Feeling left out, Rebus, Dwynra's riding dog nudges her in the elbow. "Not now Rebus," she says dismissively.
The party members talk as they head down the boulevard to the docks, and are soon met by the promised dockhand once they reach the briny boards of the dock district. The dockhand is a boy, probably no older than 15, with a burn mark covering up part of his scalp where there is no hair, wearing a slightly damp tunic and some threadbare trousers, as well as a pair of thick sandals. "Hi there!" he says to the party, "I suppose y'all are the people the Mayor sent over, yeah? I wish I was as brave as y'all...could really use the money." He mumbles a bit more before he jumps back up and looks at them. "I'll just take you to the part of the sewers where Cruril headed in, yeah?"
He eyes G'mork uneasily, just once, and avoids looking at the worg for the rest of the conversation and the tour as well.
The docks are set into a cliff face that rises about twenty feet from the water to the plateau where the city of Diobel rests, and some portions of cliff have got tunnels where people can go in, and where drippling lines of filthy sludge drip into the water of the bay. The dockhand leads you down a boardwalk that goes right to the cliff face, and then steps into one of the tunnels, his feet getting wet with dirty water and his sandals splooshing and squeaking with the water. The beckons the party in and begins to walk forward, stooping a bit in the tunnel that's only about five feet high. He leads the party for about a minute in the tunnel, turning only one corner at a split and leading the party to a large break in the tunnel. The metal pipe is broken in a large section (not a comfortable throughway for a Medium creature, but a possible one), its edges jagged where somebody probably took a big hammer and broke through it. Beyond is a natural stone cavern, extending in both directions and curving gently away from the pipe in both directions. "The halfling Pathfinder headed that way, folks. Ain't nobody else been in there since. No one knows what's out there."
The wolf looks up at Dwyrna, seeming to grin. "It is worry that brings me along. Apologies for not introducing myself during the meeting - but the fewer who know I'm here, the better. I am called G'mork." Having already ruled the Shepherd as not being a potential threat, he regards the Halfling more curiously. "What brings you down this path?"
If G'mork cares at all that his gaze is being avoided, he doesn't show it. He remains silent through the tour, but takes in the environment as much as he can, sniffing along the path trying to pick up a scent. Upon seeing the broken metal pipe, he lets out a low growl, and his stern gaze moves around the cavern suspiciously.
"Cruril," she said, choking down her feelings, "is my brother, and I intend to see him returned home." She continues the rest of the way in silence
Dwynra is relieved by the boy's pleasantness. When he mentions "being brave like [them]," she replies, "You don't have to be brave to live an adventure, and you don't have to adventure to make money."
Dwynra leads Rebus down and through the tunnels, and when they approach the fissure, her heart races. "So which way did he go, do you know?" she asks. While waiting for an answer she pulls a torch and a flint & steel from her saddlebags and studies the opening for danger.
Gus murmurs something in a low voice that sounds remarkably like a goat bleating and the head of his morningstar glows with faint light. He holds it up and moves cautiously forward, Goat at his heel, bleating softly.
"Ah don't. Ah wasn't here when he hopped in, ah just was the one who knew where the openin' was."
Dwynra doesn't see any spooky scary skeletons from here, or any other threatening creatures, but she does see a very faint light apparently coming from down the stone passageway in both directions.
Seeing nothing of consequence, she heads in, and checks the ground around the opening to see if she can tell which way Cruril went.
The floor is stone and leaves no tracks to follow. It's impossible to tell which way Cruril went with such a casual inquiry as Dwynra's.
Dwyra, seeing G`mork sniffing the ground, pulls an old vest of Cruril's out of her saddlebags and says to him, "Here, this might help. I got it from my brother's house, it still smells like him."
With Cruril's vest, G'mork is able to get a whiff of Cruril's scent and follow it down the right passageway.
The passageway curves lightly to the left as the party walks, and about a quarter-circle forward the passageway branches off to the left, going straight inward. Down this passageway it's possible to see two more caverns running parallel to the one that the party found at first, curving slightly, as well as a big stone door about forty feet ahead. The door has a lightly glowing rune on it and is slightly ajar. A lit chamber is beyond, blue light shining out from within.
The scent proceeds down the passageway and towards the door.
Keeping his snout towards the ground, G'mork leads the group through the passageways. "Curiously large area to have never been discovered until recently." He growls softly. "This way." He continues towards the lit room, curious about what may be beyond it.
Gus suddenly stops and peers back toward the way they've came. "Did som'un forget they have a toy soldier? Cause there's some sort o' tiny metal man follerin' us back there."
"A what?!" Dwynra says, bewildered. Looking behind her, she sees what the goatherd is talking about. "Would you look at that..." suspicious of the newcomer, the show-sorceress casts a spell in Halfling. Her eyes go black and she stares intently at the toy to determine whether its animation is magical.
Once word of being spotted rings out, Vladimir stops dead in his tracks, practicing his best inanimate impression. It tends to come easy when one doesn't need to breathe or even blink.
The construct does not detect as being magical, and as soon as Gus and Dwynra spot it, it freezes dead. It stands completely stock-still, an arm still mid-swing in what would have been its stride.
With her eyes returning to their normal dark brown, with visible whites, she approaches the now motionless metallic marvel. "Curious, not a whiff of magic around it..." she says to herself. Addressing the doll, she asks, "Can you understand me, little one?"
Gus looks hard at the halfling, shakes his head, then walks over and picks up the child's toy. "If'n it ain't respondin', Ah ken give it to Goat fer a treat." He starts to offer it to the tender mercies of Goat, who bleats happily.
Vladimir has faced pets before, and has learned that big dogs tend to be a problem. Goats, that's a new one. He decides to give it a moment and see how bad it could be. If it can't bypass his natural defenses, he may just be able to go along with them and not blow his cover.
The doll just stands there, unflinching, prepared to go limp when picked up.
"It was walking when we saw it. If it's alive and not hostile, feeding it to your goat might be a dire mistake." She moves to stand between Gus and his goat; not threateningly, just to protect the doll. Rebus lowers his head and sniffs intently trying to make a better assessment of the situation.
Gus shrugs. "If'n its alive and it ain't talkin', Ah got no time ta mess wit' it." He tosses the doll to the halfling and continues down the path.
Dwynra catches the doll, holding it up. Seeing that it doesn't intend to interact with them either because it can't or because it won't, she approaches Rebus, letting him sniff it and get used to it before putting it in one of the saddlebags. I don't know about this thing, she thinks, but I'd rather know where it is, one way or the other.
While walking down the passageway, Gus notices that the pathways to the right and left of the new fork are all the same, all parallel, all slightly curving. It might appear that this strange, runed door lay at the center of a trio of natural concentric circles.
Reaching the runed door, it's clearer to see and hear beyond. The rune itself looks like a pair of cursive "L"s, situated perpendicular to each other, but with both ends of the horizontal "L" being open.
Gus can also hear light electric crackling coming from with the chamber and see electric blue glowing coming from within.
Approaching the doorway, Dwynra casts Detect Magic not only to see the power of the door's aura, but also to see if there's less obvious magic around it (i.e. wards and the like).
"Ain't no expert in traps 'n such, least not like this." He peers into the chamber as much as he can and inspects things.
G'mork dismisses the doll as little more then a play thing. "Probably left by whoever build this place." He mutters softly. "I expect there will be many things here which are strange to us." When Dwyrna puts it into her bag, he gives as much of a shrug as a quadrupet is actually capable of, and continues moving forward. Following behind Gus (and nudging the goat out of the way) G'mork does his best to peer into the blue-lit chamber as well.