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Meredith feels the last month or so went right by. She never found that boys's mother, but he felt at home helping her at the farm. He was really good at card games and seemed to beat her every time. It wasn't until Denair began talking about the marked cards she got a little suspicious. Still, she hoped the church would be able to take care of him. At least Denair would stop glowering whenever maple syrup was involved.
Whenever Denair was around, two red rosebuds sprouted from her scalp. At first it felt irritating but she got used to it. Denair kept trying to explain that it meant she was waking up but Meredith always lost focus. More fey stuff.
Meredith was able to conjure an invisible force that obeyed her every command, and the farm owner was sad to see her and her three-person workforce go. Money was tight and he effectively paid Meredith for the work of three laborers.
But Pathfinder Society waits for no one, and her summons were clear: head down to the meeting place, pronto. She signed her name at the front desk, went to the meeting area and was already late.
"Sorry! Denair got distracted again. I'm Meredith Ulmari. Denair's right behind me. She likes to hide a lot, but I'm sure you'll notice her. Tree bark for legs and arms, furry torso and a fox head with roses for hair."
Sure enough, Denair knew how to scuttle through the room to look like a pile of lumber next to some furs.
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"I know, Kenra. Off again on another adventure. I promise I'll bring something back for you, something... special." Willem winks at his Squire and puts a finger to her chin and lifts it up. "Now, Destrier here is going to need a friend while I'm gone, yes?" He smiles, pats the girl on her shoulder and turns away, checking that his armor is in place and the sword at his side is secured.
He strides into the meeting room as if he owned it, looking at everyone in attendance already.
He nods at the woman Meredith. "A pleasure to be sure, though this Denair seems well versed in the shadowy arts..." He extends his hand. "Ser Willem Targerion, as you please."
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Hmpf. Who does this guy think he is? Calm down, woman.
Meredith smirks. "Well, I've never met a knight before. There's always a first. Denair, come on and say hi. I know you're in here somewhere."
Meredith scans the room, eventually running her hands through the animal furs on the wall. As she reaches one of them, a fox head shuffles from the fur and a pair of wooden legs kick out from underneath. "Oh come on. You didn't even try!" The fey stands up and walks toward Ser Willem.
"Night, huh? Weird title. I'd take Day anytime." She extends a branch with five fine twigs serving as digits. "I'm Denair. I hang out with the Boss."
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The man who wanders up looks to be half-dead. Or at least, he looks like he SHOULD be half-dead, because a large portion of his visible skin is rotting away. His eyes, however, are large and wide and clearly alive, if perpetually perplexed. The rest of him looks normal and average: height, weight, hair color. "That is a very strange creature. Am I really seeing him or is he not here like the worms that eat the flesh of the living?" His tone is monotone, with very little to distinguish between one thought and the next but you think he's not joking...
"Is- he talking to me? Shouldn't he see a priest or something?" Denair pretends to whisper in Meredith's ear.
"No, I"m right here. And worms are carrion critters. They don't eat living creatures. Okay, maybe the really big ones do..."
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"Jann Ulfenssen. I don't think these worms conform to the usual expectations. They come from Elsewhere, you know, where the great old ones wait in their dreaming death and all the elder gods wait for the stars to come right again. Except sometimes they come out early and devour a memory here or there. Or a person. Except when those worms eat you, it's like you never existed to begin with. Right now you might be mourning for loved ones you don't even remember. Nice to meet you." He adds as an after thought.
"I don't think you should shake my hand. Pieces fall off, you see."
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The waves pitch and heave the Hellstorm's Kiss as the vessel passes the southwestern tip of Mediogalti Island on its month-long voyage from Absalom to Sargava. The ship's captain, a haggard old sea-dog by the name of O∂ørn the Drowned, calls out curses on his crew for imagined laziness and incompetence as the wind and waves of a squall broken off of the edge of the Eye of Abendego batter the ship.
Below decks, a small group of adventurers gathers in the ship's galley, obeying the captain's none-too-gently-put command to "Stay the hell outta me an' my crew's way!"
The two weeks since their departure have been quiet for the most part, as the ship sailed west along the Inner Sea, then through the Arch of Aroden to pass into the Arcadian Ocean, where the ship turned southward as it coasted along Rahadoum's western shores before heading further out to sea to avoid the worst of the Eye. Now all they would have to do is pass the sea of swirly twirly gum drops the cut-throat, pirate-infested waters west of the Shackles and make their way into Sargava's Desperation Bay. The trip would not be easy, but at least the Pathfinders onboard would have plenty of time to get to know one another.
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Farshaya sways gently in the impromptu hammock slung within his nook of the cargo hold, hands locked behind his head and one foot hanging lazily off to the side. His soft boot grazes the floor. "Well, if dat fellah been drowned, I say he doin' pretty good t'be captainin' a ship! A good sign, I say! Maybe we all be lucky to do so well after slippin' 'neath dem waves. Course, I ain't aimin' t'find out."
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"I'm sure he'll pull us through," Lai puts in. The ship's call girl lies in a hammock as well, for a change-- the floor mat she usually sleeps on, while easier to earn gold from the sailors with, is much less comfortable without someone sharing it. These past two weeks have provided her with quite a windfall-- she's had no shortage of company during the voyage, even though she's never spent a day of her life in a brothel. She's had as much to do as anyone else, but at night she happily takes the gold of whichever lonely sailor wants to spend it. Her cheap silks are in disarray (nobody cares in a storm, she thinks) and her striking orange hair sways as she does.
Even though these Pathfinders would no doubt welcome the extra hand, as always Lai has so far kept her own Society membership a secret. One never knows when such might come in handy. "This is my first voyage with him, but he's gotten us this far."
It's just like how that kid played cards with the Boss! Cool! Maybe I can show her my box of stuff one day.
Eventually interest dies down and most of the Society members stay in the room. Denair goes back to sneaking around the ship, watching the sun while on deck, hanging her arms over the sides so she can absorb some moisture, and trying to understand all of this "sailing" stuff the crew does.
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Willem catches himself staring at the fiery haired woman and shakes his head clear. . There was something about her that told him she was no mere ship's wench. She hadn't introduced herself as a Society Member, but her keen eyes and the fact she kept subconsciously patting something in a waistband under her silks told him there was more to her. He hadn't been one of her clients on this voyage, nor did he plan to be, but he was curious as to her actual role with them.
"Well, let's just hope the rest of the journey goes as smooth as it has so far.", he says when Lai notices him looking. "After my trip to Tamran, I'm hoping for a cake walk."
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Meredith continues writing in her journal, writing down notes next to drawings of various animals and plants. A different handwriting has strange words next to each, as Denair has her own terminology for them. Meredith has some instinctive idea of what each one means, but it's clear Denair knows a lot.
Laiashi seemed nice. Denair seemed to quietly observe her more than anyone else. She said the Ifrit reminded her of Frankie, but Meredith never made the connection.
Something about Jann's response made Meredith chuckle. "Good thing our patties don't walk after we cook them. Then again, some people like their hamburgers really raw!" She laughs, caught up in her own joke.
The ship finally passes through the storm after a night of rough sailing. The Pathfinders continued their conversations into the evening, though some of them soon found themselves otherwise occupied as the captain allowed some of his men to retire to their rest. A short human sailor approached Laiashi as he came down from the decks and, after a discreet conversation, was led away by the young ifrit.
Soon after, the captain himself came down the stairs into the lower decks, his bad leg thumping loudly on each step as he descended. He entered the galley where the remaining Pathfinders had positioned themselves and takes a seat at the head of the long table running the length of the compartment. "Well," he growled, "Looks like Besmara has decided to spare us another night, and even did us a favor." He pulls a thick clay flask from a pocket on his rain-soaked coat and, popping the cork, takes a long draught of its contents. "We're further south than we mighta been without the winds and the currents stirred up in the storm. With all the ground we made tonight, we might make it to the mouth of the Vanji by week's end. O' course, from there you lot will be getting help from the locals to get ya up river to Nantambu." He takes another quick drink form his flask, then puts the cork back in place and stands. "Best get ready for a long, hot trip from there. Don't know if any o' ya have been to these parts before, but the Expanse and the parts there abouts'll boil ya alive if ya aren't ready for it." On that happy note, he turns and leaves the galley, heading for his quarters and leaving you to begin preparing yourselves for your final approach.
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"Huh, I'm not used to hot climates, but I'll figure it out." Meredith thanks the captain for her work.
Denair, meanwhile, spends her days checking the ship crew. She eventually gets the guts to ask Laiashi about how she hides all of her stuff like that. Oh! And also if she can pick locks. Denair did learn a thing or two from a heavy boy a few months ago about using tools to open locks.
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Poor guy, Laiashi thinks the next morning when the short sailor goes above-deck at the sounding of the morning bell. All that talking, I've learned more about his life than I ever wanted to. At least he's gentle with me.
(if Denair asks in the presence of others)
"Afraid I don't know what you're talking about, little one," Laiashi says casually. "In my line of work, it's pretty hard to hide anything, if you understand me. Though maybe you don't... How old are you?"
(if Denair asks in private)
Lai readily shows the little fey how to use one's body and clothing to hide small objects-- inside a boot, under a wrist, between the breasts. "These little knives are easy to hide," she tells her. "And at night, when I might wind up wearing nothing at all, I keep one under the mat-- you never know when someone will do something stupid." She also explains the process of picking a lock, showing her the tools of doing so, but admitting that it's not a skill she's had to use often.
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"How old am I?" Denair hasn't been asked that question in a while, and some of her tails ripple.
"Well, I was around for maybe 150, 170 years before the Boss recruited me. By then I got poisoned and had to bond with B- I mean, Meredith. Then I'd guess 5 years after that." She ponders. "Oh, maybe I'll just come back later. You're busy now." Denair gallops off to places unknown.
Eventually Denair asks Laiashi in private and gets more information. "Cool! Maybe I can hide stuff in my fur. Then I don't have to ask the Boss to carry my tool box for me. Thanks!"
"I guess... if you ever want to know about fish or something I could talk a bit about it. The Boss is always asking me to identify animals and plants for her. Well, time to crawl along the wood again. See ya!"
Denair lays her body flat against the wall and crouches so it looks like a fox pelt is crawling along the wall, into shadow and out of sight.
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Saritirnen had done his best to keep some distance from the others. Being surrounded by the sea with no land had been a new experience for Saritirnen and The Many. The rough waters at times made his stomach sometimes turn upside down forcing him to spill the meager contents of his stomach overboard. It had taken a week before he finally started to get his 'sea legs' and even then using his spear to lean on had still been tricky with the boot continuously rocking as it chopped through the waves.
He could feel the humidity rise in the air as the continued southward. While the heat was manageable he could already tell that this trip would be a taxing one.
While he stood leaning against the starboard bow of the ship he let his body relax as the voices of The Many occupied his mind.
'Where does he take us? Why do we head away from our lands?'
'The woman and the tree sprite they head this way as well. Where is her child?'
'This vessel it brings us to places we have not seen before.
'The one who is also gifted. There is something tainted about him.'
On and on their voices whispered in his mind. They spoke not to him but to the others rarely engaging him but always he heard them. While he had grown used to it he wished there were times they would be quieter like when he had first began to hear them.
One day I will learn to quiet their voices I hope. Until that day he did his best to ignore what he could for the sake of his sanity.
Several more days come and go, and the remainder of your journey is largely uneventful. You eventually reach the shores of the Mwangi Expanse, where you disembark from the Hellstorm's Kiss in favor of some smaller shipping barges upon some locals pole you up the Vanji River to Nantambu. As soon as the barge pulls into the town's bustling and lively harbor, you are whisked off of the docks and up to a trade compound.
After several minutes of introductions and preliminary discussion, the reputable merchant and ally of the Society Aya Allahe paces one of the back rooms of Sharrowsmith’s Exports, a walled trade compound on the northern edge of Nantambu in the Mwangi Expanse.
“I wish I had more to offer,” Allahe apologizes before even presenting what information she has. “Nieford Sharrowsmith never truly retired from being a Pathfinder, even after he started this business. I think, in his mind, he was still the young adventurer that hiked through jungles and fought off troglodyte tribes. Sharrowsmith’s attitude changed over the last few months—I think he was concerned for his legacy and how history would remember him. Would it be for his discoveries or for the export business that dominated his later years? The answer, I fear, was unpalatable.
“It was no surprise when he packed up and left on an expedition. But that was months ago, and neither the Society nor I have heard from him since. Sharrowsmith has never left for this long without leaving some word as to his status or sending rather demanding missives about business decisions while he was waist-deep in some jungle bog. When my own contacts failed to turn up any useful information, I had no recourse but to go through his private notes.” Allahe motions to the mess of documents scattered about the office.
“What caught my eye was this translated rubbing. It appears to be the most recent piece of a very large puzzle Sharrowsmith was researching and indicated that he may be somewhere in the Bandu Hills. Traders from Fort Bandu have confirmed that he paid the garrison a visit, but that’s where my trail ran cold. Something happened out there, and Praetor Sylien—Fort Bandu’s commander—refuses to correspond with me on the matter despite knowing how close Nieford and I are. All I received in response was that Nieford had ‘done enough damage for one lifetime,’ and that if I wanted to discuss the matter further I would need to go to Fort Bandu in person.”
Exasperatedly, Allahe runs a hand across her forehead and turns her distant stare out the window. “I cannot shutter the business and travel hundreds of miles on the off chance that the praetor can help; the company would fall apart. I’m hoping that you will be able to go in my stead, speak with the praetor personally to learn what has befallen Sharrowsmith and help him return.”
Allahe strides over to her document-strewn desk and plucks a document from the top of the pile. She hands the document to you and gives you time to read it over, adding only an explanation of what you’re looking at, ”Apparently, that’s a translation of some rubbing taken from dwarven ruins deep in the jungle. I don’t know much about it, or about what Nieford was up to, but I’ll be glad to answer any questions you might have.”
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Ser Willem listens intently as the woman speaks. When she is finished, he strokes his chin in thought. "Perhaps the man simply did not want to be found. Nonetheless, we will endeavor to find him. Will we be given some form of transportation to this fort, or will we have to find our own way? I have a horse, but the others may not be so fortunate."
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Meredith is glad to be off the ship. Denair spent half the time describing what plants, birds and fish she saw in explicit detail, and the other half describing the odd behaviors of the sailors. Explaining their actions was exhausting and kind of annoying. Her first step onto the landmass feels like she wandered from one person's home to another- a different kind of comfort.
Aya Allahe describes the mission, and Meredith raises a curious eyebrow. "Feels like he may have bitten off more than he can chew- it's a figure of speech." She preemptively answers Denair's question. "He's probably stuck somewhere, and we'll help him out."
"Praetor Sylien- what should we know? Likes, dislikes? Sounds like he disagreed with whatever Sharrowsmith did."
Meredith takes this opportunity to purchase 2 vials of antitoxin and 50 feet of rope before they leave.
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Laiashi leaves the boat with the others when they reach the Mwangi shores, telling the crew, "Here's my stop!" without giving any further details. Any raised eyebrows from the other Pathfinders, regarding why she accompanies them, elicit a hushed admission from the redhead. "I'm a Pathfinder as well. Just didn't want to be treated like one; I've heard we aren't welcome everywhere."
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"I'm sure we can figure out what we need. Will you show us how to get to Fort Bandu?" she asks Aya.
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Perhaps the man simply did not want to be found. Nonetheless, we will endeavor to find him."
“In his youth, he did often travel alone, just to get away. With his bad back, though, he needs teamsters to carry equipment and scribes to help with field research. But it’s quite out of character for Sharrowsmith to embark without staff. I think he felt like he had something to prove.”
"Will we be given some form of transportation to this fort, or will we have to find our own way? I have a horse, but the others may not be so fortunate."
"Will you show us how to get to Fort Bandu?"
"Your Society has already paid for your transportation. You will travel back down the Vanji by boat, then switch to canoes to navigate the Little Vanji and Dzinni rivers. I am sure the locals where the rivers meet will find a way to accommodate your horse, Ser. The rivers will carry you to Fort Bandu, in the Bandu Hills."
"“More importantly, you should know that the Hills are a dangerous place. This is true of much of the Expanse, but the Bandu Hills have a dozen ways to kill before accounting for living creatures: heat, dehydration, landslides, poisonous plants, carnivorous plants, and so on. Unfortunately, the place is sick with riches like diamonds, gold, and silver—an embarrassment of wealth that only attracts more dangerous occupants. I am surprised that Sharrowsmith didn’t settle down there, to be honest.”
""Praetor Sylien- what should we know? Likes, dislikes? Sounds like he disagreed with whatever Sharrowsmith did."
“I know him only by reputation. The grandson of an old elven explorer, he’s served the garrison for decades, though I hear he’s mostly retired now. My business associates say he is a fair and very pragmatic man, one who respects hard facts and truth. His being dismissive of my request sounds uncharacteristic.”
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Saritirnen was last to leave the boat almost wishing he could have stayed on it awhile longer. For the grief that it supplied him with on those first nights he had grown to love looking at the endless expanse of the sea. Even the voices of The Many had teetered off to a low whisper, but as soon as he set foot upon the Mwangi soil the voices had begun to speak louder and louder giving him a slight headache.
Upon meeting their contact he nods politely and as usual finds a place off to the side and listens to woman speak.
'Dwarven ruins within this side of the world?'
'What would make the dwarves leave their home?
'They are greedy. No doubt this man who went in search of the ruins is greedy as well'
He rubs his legs hoping to restore some circulation back to the feeble things. "If he feels time is his enemy than heading off to prove himself the better is acceptable for you short-lived ones. How long will it take to reach this Fort Bandu?"
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Farshaya scrambled up to the deck and bounded over the side even before the boat was secured to its mooring, dragging his backpack behind him. He stretched his arms and legs and performed a little dance on the pier, hollering out something like a victory howl toward the port town. He turned to look back at the others, catching Laiashi's confession. "Woop!" he yelled with a grin. "Well c'mon then, lover-girl. Let's see if you're so talented off dat boat!"
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Farshaya whistles softly when Aya appears. I hope she goin' wit' us whatever mission we got.
"Boss man Sharrowsmith done fall in some quicksand, sound like. Wouldn't be surprised t'find naught in dem jungle. But we go, we go." Farshaya nods his head rhytmically to some silent song, finding it difficult to sit still for very long. "What kin' predators's lurkin' out there? Big cats, stampedes, men? I bet dem bugs's real thick, too."
"What kin' predators's lurkin' out there? Big cats, stampedes, men? I bet dem bugs's real thick, too."
Aya notes Farshaya's glance and gives him a slight smile in return, but she remains business-like, given the circumstances. "Yes. All of that...and darker things."
points in the Bandu Hills is Mount Nakyuk, famed for the veins of gold under it several centuries ago.
confused accounts of ghoul like creatures that scholars call festrogs—horrific flesh-eating
undead that walk upright but run on all fours.
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"We should prepare enough water. The temperature here will rise and from what I have overheard there lie no other settlement within miles between here and Fort Bandu.
Given that there lies a dwarven ruins close by Fort Bandu the lands must be rich in materials bringing those who will look to rob from the lands. I can only imagine that the tribesmen will look to protect their land."
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"I don't need gems or gold. Kinda worthless if you ask me." Meredith shrugs and refills her waterskin. "Sounds like I should find something to protect us from the sun."
Meredith takes the opportunity to purchase some equipment. She haggles with one of the tradesmen for a used wand of endure elements.
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Lai nods at Saritirnen. "I've heard that too, about the bandits. I've also heard it's pretty much all Deeptreasure Mining these days." She shrugs. "For what it's worth." She double checks the small pouch at her waist, her only (visible) gear, for supplies.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Denair steps off the ship and onto land. The moisture is almost overwhelming. The constant heat is a bit annoying as well, like it's constantly high noon.
Denair spends her time scrambling under stalls, in shadows, and hiding in places she shouldn't be in. She spends her time just observing the behaviors of the tradesmen, and their obsession with metal and jewels.
Once she hears the mission, Denair claps. "Yay, we're going on a trip!"
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Ser Willem listens intently to everyone as they describe the area they are going to. He had swum in sewers, fought in forests and delved in dungeons, but journeying through the jungle was new to him. Farshaya's mention of gigantic bugs did little to help. He wasn't afraid, but the idea of those things getting under his armor and the mud dirtying it.. he sighed, a little loudly, as he thought about poor Kenra having to clean it out. "Can't say I have much knowledge of these parts, but I'm sure any bandits we encounter will be easily swayed by our sheer words or if necessary, our show of superior force."