Phil's PFS Game (Inactive)

Game Master electricjokecascade

An amusing series of mishaps both deadly and enlightening that our Pathfinder Society members shall stumble through.


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The Exchange

Male Human Alchemist 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 17 (15 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Fort: 3 Ref: 7 Will: 1 | Active conditions: Mutagen; No Armor

"My trade master always said that the scorpion should not give advice on flying to the ant. I don't know anything about . . . whatever Mexus is talking about, so I'm not going to give my opinion on it. I've told you what we came here for, and that's all I'll say on the matter. Otherwise, I'll sit hear drinking your fine brew and wait until we are ready to give last rites to our departed friend."


Becher looks from one to the other, and then frowns and down at his hands. Deep in thought, his eyes dart from one side to the other, and finally he sighs.

"In truth, I'm divided. I am happy to honor my father, and partner with the Pathfinder Society. But seeing the death recently, the violence, and hearing Lord Mexus' opinion on what more may come, I don't... I don't know if I have the stomach to face more of the same."

He looks up, face weary. "If allying with this Lord Blelor means peace and quiet for Railford, if it means I can focus exclusively on working on my spirits, if it means I never have to face another siege or feel the weight of the dead on my conscience, then I will sign the deed over."

He nods, becoming more decisive as he takes to the idea. "Thank you, my friends. Please know that for as long as I live, one muddy corner of Taldor will always be your home."

So saying, he cracks open the small chest he had originally carried from the Barrel Aging caves, and draws forth a deed. The bottom of the page is unsigned. Clearly Kretchmoor had hoped to capture it before Becher could make himself the official owner.

"Here," he says, handing the deed to Lord Mexus. "Take this to your friend. As long as I am allowed to own this distillery until my death, I am satisfied with his being the town's guardian."

Standing, he groans and stretches. "Now if you will excuse me, I have a tour to give my friend Fahim here." At this he gives a genuine smile. "I believe several of my innovations may impress you, good sir."

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

Mexus takes the deed reverently, with a somber nod, ”Thank you, my friend. I truly believe that what you have done will be in the best benefit of the town. There is no surer sign of a worthy leader than one that sacrifices his own pride and advancement in favor of protecting his people. And I hope that your future is decidedly happier and more serene than the last few days have been. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe that Sir Gisborne and I are going to take care of the arrangements to honor our fallen comrade.

Silver Crusade

Human Fighter (Tactician) 1 | HP: 10/11 | AC: 18 (12 T, 16 F), CMD: 16 | F: 3, R: 2, W: 0 | Percep +0 | Conditions: none | Tall and strong, sober-faced, white and gold linens, chain shirt, longsword, heavy wooden shield

After splitting into pairs, Honus leads Mexus back to the room where his belongings were placed during recuperation. He draws forth a linen wrapped package from his pack which has been tied in twine, and proceeds to undress it.

"I think this should do."

Honus uncovers an engraved metal box, finely crafted and leafed in gold. On its front face, just above the latch, is a blank naming plate. He rubs his thumb across and stares at it mournfully. After a moment, he looks up at Mexus and gives a grim nod of approval. Without further words, he stands, box clasped between both hands, and walks out to pyre.

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

Mexus nods in approval at Honus's suggested urn, "That will be very fitting for her."

Mexus accompanies Honus outside and, in silence, helps to build the pyre, though Honus is far more practiced at gathering suitable wood and setting it alight than Mexus.

When Alahazra's remains are finally set ablaze, Mexus stands next to Honus in somber silence as he contemplates the events that led to this morose outcome. After a few minutes, Mexus mutters a short incantation, and white motes of light gather in the smoke above Alahazra's form and shape the rising soot and embers into a surprisingly accurate rendering of the blind prophetess.

Mexus stands there staring into the blind eyes of the Alahazra's smokey form, and after another moment of contemplation, he mutters, "I'm sorry I failed you, Alahazra. I won't let it happen again. ... I can only hope that you have found happiness on whatever plane to which your soul has transubstantiated." With that, a single tear rolls down Mexus's cheek.

He then remains silent until the fire burns itself out. At which point, Mexus uses a simple incantation to solemnly separate Alahazra's ashes and bone remnants from bits of charcoal and soot, so that her remains can be placed into the precious box Honus provided.

The Exchange

Male Human Alchemist 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 17 (15 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Fort: 3 Ref: 7 Will: 1 | Active conditions: Mutagen; No Armor

Fahim tours the distillery with Beecher, giving all the appropriate "oohs" and "ahhhs" of someone who is very impressed with the facility he is touring. In fact, as a brewer, Fahim is genuinely interested in Beecher's unique brewing methods, and his appreciation is genuine in that regard. When the tour finishes in the still room, Fahim turns to face Beecher.

"This is truly an impressive distillery you have here. I can see why it has been so sought after by others. In fact, as a merchant myself, I can see a potential for your techniques that goes beyond the boarders of Talador. With your machines, and some ingenuity, whole new markets could be opened up beyond the refinement of spirits. Think about it. Perfumes made from the finest Andoran blossoms! Extracts from the exotic spices of the Padasha Empire! And that's just the beginning!"

Fahim beams with the potential possibilities, hoping his enthusiasm spreads to Beecher.

"And the best part is, you would have to do almost nothing to profit from it. I will drum up the investors. All you would need to do is show them how to make the machines and operate them. You'll make an easy profit to help your distillery and town, and get the added reputation that the "Railford Refinement Process" will be used around the world. I know this is all happening a bit fast, but what better way to make sure no one will try to take your distillery than getting people to invest in its continued success? What do you say?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24 to persuade Beecher to build The Exchange Faction some of his devices and teach them how to use them.


Becher's eyes light up as Fahim speaks on, visions of wealth and success dancing before his eyes like the hundred and one golden djinn of Saladin the Reckless.

"I say that sounds like a wonderful venture, my friend!" He shakes Fahim's hand and nods several times. "I'm in!"

Outside a faint rain begins to fall, the same dogged mist that has fallen on the countryside these past few days. It seems into Alahazra's funeral pyre smoke, slicing at it, making it a ragged. The embers hiss and sizzle, and then the smoke disappears altogether.

Beyond where Mexus and Honus stand, heads bowed, the town of Railford slowly begins to put itself back together. Villagers and whores can be see patching up the inn. Blood has been washed away from the building walls, and the rain promises to sluice it from the mud.

Slowly this town will rebuild itself.

That it has a chance, the small group knows, is purely due to their efforts, tenacity, and sacrifices.

And that's a wrap! Congratulations, you have successfully completed Decline of Glory! XP and final gold amounts coming soon.

The Exchange

Male Human Alchemist 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 17 (15 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Fort: 3 Ref: 7 Will: 1 | Active conditions: Mutagen; No Armor

Fahim's Day Job Check

Craft (Alchemy): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19

Day Job Check Rewards:

DC Result . . . GP Award
5....................1 gp
10..................5 gp
15.................10 gp
20.................20 gp
25.................50 gp
30.................75 gp
35................100 gp
40................150 gp

Silver Crusade

Human Fighter (Tactician) 1 | HP: 10/11 | AC: 18 (12 T, 16 F), CMD: 16 | F: 3, R: 2, W: 0 | Percep +0 | Conditions: none | Tall and strong, sober-faced, white and gold linens, chain shirt, longsword, heavy wooden shield

Day job: Archeologist.

Knowledge, Engineering: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

DC 10......GP Award: 5 gp


Bidding farewell to Railford, your group makes the long and arduous trek back to Oppara, the decadent capital of Taldor where after one uneventful night your board a galleon bound for glittering Absalom. The Inner Seas are calm, the weather glorious, and the short ride across the azure waters is indescribably luxurious after the eternal slogging through the mires around Railford.

Your stay in Absalom is brief; you but report your success and are immediately given your next assignment: to deliver a missive and a mysterious locked box of ivory to the Society Lodge in the land of the Linnorn Kings, far, far away to the north. The Venture Captain smiles without humor at your groans, and bids you depart that very next morning.

The Diamond Spray is a smartly outfitted ship, with sleek lines and a gruff dwarf for a captain. He brooks no nonsense but promises to get you to Kalsgard in under two weeks.

Soon the sails are creaking, the sailors are yelling and hauling on ropes, and the Diamond Spray pulls away from the bustling Absalom docks and slides out of the port. You hug the Andoran coast to the north, putting in at Almas and then Ostenso, and the continue west as Cheliax passes by. The captain braves a storm as he passes the Straits of Corentyn, and after a harrowing hour the Diamond Spray slips free and out into the great Arcadian Ocean.

Choosing to avoid the shortcut through the Hellmouth Gulf, the captain circumvents the islands and looks visibly relieved when the land of the demons is behind him. Finally abandoning the coast, the captain sets a course due north, and soon all land slips from view.

For five days the Diamond Spray tacks with the wind, heading, the captain informs you, directly for Magnimar, the City of Monuments. Halfway there, while sailing over untold fathoms, a mighty kraken attacks the ship.

The assault is brief and deadly.

Seven crew members are plucked from the deck, and it is only through the ingenuity of the group that the beast is so quickly driven away.

The Diamond Spray limps into Magnimar’s port, where the captain spends two days hiring new crew. Offloading their spices and other trade goods, they load up on crates, and soon the ship takes the coastal waters once more.

Following the outermost islands of the Varisian Gulf, the captain shares with you the tale of the Thassalonian Empire, whose destruction created the vast expanse of water cradled within the islands known as the Gulf. He swears that once as a young sailor, over a hundred and seventy five years ago, he heard bells tolling within the deeps. In dark tones he speaks of the haunted, submerged ruins that exist still beneath the waves, and turns away with a shudder.

The northern coast of Varisia is bleak and mountainous, and the captain makes no more stops. Passing between large islands from the Ironbound Isles, the captain announces that they have entered the waters of the land of the Linnorn Kings, and that two more days should bring them to Kalsgard.

He’s true to his word. Giving wide berth to a distant roaring sound he identifies as the Devil’s Drain, he guides the ship around a massive promontory then into a bay which gradually narrows to the mighty mouth of the Iceflow River, just a few hundred miles south of the polar glaciers which shroud the Crown of the World. The weather grows increasingly bitter cold and the ocean takes on the appearance of hammered iron. The skies lower low and leaden, and the wind tears into you, driving the spray into your faces like needlepoints. Two cities glower at each other across the water; Kalsgard and Iceferry.
It’s with some relief that your journey finally ends as you step off the gang plank and onto solid ground. For an hour the land seems to sway beneath your feet, but soon your sea legs wear off.

Kalsgard began as a small village, but has grown over time - which it has had in plenty. An Ulfen saga relates the tale of King Ulvass, who set sail from Kalsgard on an epic journey to discover the mythical western continent of Arcadia. Ulvass' fleet set sail a full five centuries before Aroden raised the Starstone from the oceans and founded the City of Absalom. In the five thousand years since, the port city grew rich as the base for Ulfen raiders preying upon the southern coasts of Avistan, and today is a walled metropolis of over 70,000 souls and the Land of the Linnorm Kings' de facto capital.

The Society Lodge a narrow peaked building resembling a long house. There you deliver your letter and locked box safely, and after a few hours warming your bones before a roaring fire and enjoying slow roasted ox on pewter platters, you are summoned by the Venture Captain into his study.

“Close the door,” Ambrus Valsin murmurs as the team gathers in his office, his breath condensing in the frigid air of his office. “Let me start by saying, this mission is not for dissemination among other members of the Society.” The Venture Captain gives everyone a serious look in turn before continuing.
“This mission is not an investigation, just a simple, straightforward assignment, but that makes it no less important.”

“I will need you to cross over into the nation of Irrisen to the east. You’re to head north and rendezvous with another team who have captured some—” Valsin pauses for a heartbeat before continuing. “—persons of interest. We have reason to believe that these individuals have information on the Shadow Lodge cells that are refusing to reconcile with the Society under Grandmaster Torch’s leadership.”

Valsin’s expression becomes particularly grim at that point. “If these rogue cells are outright refusing amnesty, then they represent a clear threat to all of us. I need you to take charge of these captives and get them out of Irrisen safely and quietly. Once you’re clear of Irrisen, a larger extraction team will take custody of them and bring them in for questioning. Of course, we will cover the expense of your travel in full, and provide maps to lead you to the meeting point in Irrisen. Because of the nature of the mission and Irrisen itself, you’ll be meeting the other team in the field, away from what passes for civilization up there. The team you’ll be getting the prisoners from will show you the best route out of Irrisen, and the castellan of Trollheim has agreed to grant you passage through his lands. You are responsible for avoiding unexpected trouble between the handoff and Trollheim. You’ll be joined by a new member of the Society. This will be his first mission, but I am confident he will be an asset.”

Valsin gestures for the team to depart, but pauses, staring at his fireplace for a moment before adding, “Wait. You need to know this. Your prisoners will be goblins. The Shadow Lodge separatists made extensive use of the sadistic creatures as soldiers and servants, and as much as you may want to throttle them, please remember that we need them alive.”

The Exchange

Male Human Alchemist 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 17 (15 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Fort: 3 Ref: 7 Will: 1 | Active conditions: Mutagen; No Armor

Fahim nods confidently as he takes all of this in. His bushy eyebrow arches at the mention of goblins, but otherwise he maintains his composure.

I swear, why can't anyone get into trouble in a desert, or a nice beach somewhere. We just came from a cold, wet swamp, and now we are marching into a cold, wet forest. Oh how I long for the days of serene extra-planar spaces controlled by religious fanatics. The temple of Korada may have been a bit stuffy, but it wasn't cold or wet, I'll give it that.

Still, did not the Fabled Abdula spent countless nights trapped in the icy palace of Valefor, the djinn of purloined breath, before he could steal its bejeweled ring of many keys and escape? Cold makes a man hearty, and there is much profit to be found where other men dare not tread.

Without fail, and with a predictability that would put a water clock to shame, Fahim flashes his award winning grin at Valsin.

"Then alive you shall have them! Are you expecting this . . . cargo to amenable to transport? Or should we plan to strap it down while in transit?"


Valsin hesitates, as if deciding against his first impulse, and then sighs. "My diplomacy with goblins has usually been dealt at the end of a sword. However, in Irrisen goblins are considered citizens. As are all monsters. Trolls, wargs, and so forth. If you're to get through without undue attention, then strapping down your charges might cause more trouble for you than it's worth."

Valsin gives you an apologetic shrug. "These particular goblins are used to taking orders from the Shadow Lodge. As such, they shouldn't prove too intractable if you're able to maintain a modicum of their goodwill. I'm sure the team currently holding them will have more information for you on this particular topic."

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

Mexus, who has seemed unusually quiet for most of the trip thus far, finally pipes up. ”Sir Valsin, for those of us that are unfamiliar with traveling in this part of the world, would you be kind enough to provide some estimation of the amount of time you expect it to take for us to complete each leg of the mission that you have outlines, so that we can properly apportion rations and other supplies between us. Additionally, it has been my experience that a little bit of specific knowledge about the local in which one is operating can mean the difference between life and death. Any information you could provide us about the particular indigenous threats or the environmental obstacles that we are likely to encounter may prove invaluable.”


Valsin nods to Mexus, his expression approving.

"Good questions." Valsin smooths out a map for all to see. "From Kalsgard to Trollheim should take you about five days by horse, provided for you and to be left at the river crossing. Then you'll have to cross the Iceflow and head into Irrisen by foot. It should take about three days to meet with the infiltrators and their goblin charges. Here's a map of the meeting place." Valsin smooths out a small map.

"It’s a three and a half day journey from your rendezvous point to the extraction point outside Trollheim, but the extraction team will remain in place for an additional day in case you’re delayed. The infiltrators within Irrisen will recommend your best route to reach Trollheim unimpeded, given their knowledge of recent activity within Irrisen. Just remember, don’t look for trouble.”

Valsin sits back. "As for environmental concerns, well. It's going to be damn cold. Bitterly cold. You'll need to equip yourselves with the best cold weather gear in Kalsgard. The Lodge will pay for that. Be prepared to move fast once you have your charges - you won't have time to forage. The infiltrators should be able to provide you with food for the goblins. Also, you'll have to be on the lookout for blizzards. Do any of you have experience in the wilderness up here?"

Anybody with Survival 5+ can qualify has having the relevant experience.

"As you no doubt know, Irrisen and the Linnorn Kings are at war. Their borders are hotly contested, which will mean crossing in and back out will require careful subterfuge. Don't alarm the locals on the Irrisen side. Most of them want nothing to do with trouble, given how harsh their rulers are, but they won't hesitate to defend themselves or call for aid if you prove troublesome."


When Danny is ready, he can post his character entering the room, at which point Valsin will introduce him.

Silver Crusade

Human Fighter (Tactician) 1 | HP: 10/11 | AC: 18 (12 T, 16 F), CMD: 16 | F: 3, R: 2, W: 0 | Percep +0 | Conditions: none | Tall and strong, sober-faced, white and gold linens, chain shirt, longsword, heavy wooden shield

Honus stands at full attention, thick muscular arms crossed over the white and gold chasuble layered atop his chain shirt. He listens intently, eyelids heavy over his dark brown eyes and lips flat-lined and sealed. This is not the face of enthusiasm, but it is the face you have become accustomed to seeing him wear.

Knowledge (geography), Irrisen: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
Knowledge (history), Irrisen: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

Maps and funding will be incredibly beneficial. Why we weren't supplied with these during our last mission is beyond me. Just another example of how the Society "values" its members. In truth, I'm surprised to hear that we are receiving either for this mission.

Knowledge (geography), Trollheim: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
Knowledge (history), Trollheim: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

Knowledge (nobility), castellan of Trollheim: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

Honus presses his finger forward to pause conversation.

"I'm sorry. Wait. You mentioned several times that these goblins are prisoners, even if we cannot transport them as such. The question as to whether they are amenable to leaving is still unanswered. Are they looking to escape an oppression by the Shadow Lodge, attempting to flee from it and find refuge through the Pathfinder Society, or are we stealing them away without consent?"

Silver Crusade

Human Fighter (Tactician) 1 | HP: 10/11 | AC: 18 (12 T, 16 F), CMD: 16 | F: 3, R: 2, W: 0 | Percep +0 | Conditions: none | Tall and strong, sober-faced, white and gold linens, chain shirt, longsword, heavy wooden shield

Honus towers over the maps and scrutinizes them closely.

"What about the Iceflow River? Could it carry us to Trollheim?"


Honus' Irrisen History check:

The history of Irrisen as a nation begins in 3313 AR - before this, the lands that now make up Irrisen belonged to the Lands of the Linnorm Kings. The winter of 3313 AR was particularly cold and harsh, even by the standards of the north. The first warning the men of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings received of Baba Yaga's fell intent was when her armies of cold fey and blue skinned ice trolls marched down from the Crown of the World. Led by Baba Yaga herself, the queen of witches was all but unstoppable, killing any who resisted her and enslaving the rest. It took her less than a month to claim the lands that she wanted, that would become Irrisen. Strangely enough, almost as soon as she had conquered Irrisen, Baba Yaga seemed to lose interest in it. Instead she installed one of her daughters as the reigning monarch. Shortly afterwards, Baba Yaga returned to her life roaming the myriad planes as her whims desired. After a hundred years, she returned and placed a new daughter in charge of Irrisen. This pattern has repeated itself every century with Baba Yaga returning to place a new daughter on the throne and take the previous monarch with her to travel the planes.

Honus Trollheim Geography/History check:

The city of Trollheim was built to repel the forces of Baba Yaga, which it managed to do with the help of the fey from the Grungir Forest. Built on the easternmost edges the Lands of the Linnorm Kings, hard against its border to Irrisen, it has no current king and is ruled by a castellan, Freyr Darkwine.

The streets are intentionally confusing, its walls heavily armed, and its people are battle-ready, fierce, and wary of strangers. It has outgrown its walls several times. This has contributed to the chaotic nature of its streets, as several neighborhoods are walled off completely, seemingly isolated from the rest. Most of Trollheim's trade flows up and down the Iceflow, the fastest and easiest connection with Kalsgard. They city's merchants even engage in hesitant trade with Irrisen, although such ventures are highly regulated and scrutinized for sabotage and other treacheries. Trollheim has many stockyards, tanneries, and textile mills, and the scrubland near the city is heavily grazed by sheep.

A military unit known as the Blackravens are sent out on a regular basis to hunt ice trolls and other minions of the Witch Queen, and to defend the Ulfen lands from her malign forces.

Valris listens to Honus' questions with fierce focus, but is forced to shrug in response. "Are the goblins willing to travel into the Land of the Linnorm Kings? Possibly. Who can guess the state of a goblin's mind at any given moment? All I know is that they have proved willing enough up until this moment. What their current relationship to the Shadow Lodge is beyond me. You'll have to ask Ragna Lightstep, the leader of the infiltrators, when you get there."

Valris then leans over to study the map at Honus' second question. "No. The Iceflow flows toward Kalsgard."

Liberty's Edge

Male Elf Rogue 1 | HP: 8/8 | AC: 16 (14 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Active conditions: none

The door opens as a man slips through, closing behind him with barely a sound. He glances quickly between the individuals already gathered in the room, as he exhales heavily, his breath hangs in a cloud in the cold air. As he draws back his hood, his elven ears pop out from underneath it, slightly too big for his head, even by elven standards, and his blond hair sits in a messy mop on his head. At about 5'10", you'd think he was short for an elf, and you'd be right. Congratulations. He adjusts his belt, which hangs a bit lopsided, heavy to the shortsword sheathed on his left hip. Nothing about him seems to fit quite right. He stands just inside the door, looking to Valsin with a nod.

"Sorry if I'm late."

He scratches the back of his head.

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

The tiefling clad in heavy and expensive robes inclines his horned head toward the new comer, saying, "Creosa. Ta's quel tanya lle yanwaya lye."

Elvish Translation:
"Welcome. It's good that you could join us."


Valsin stands, extending his hand to Zaiharahel, gesturing for him to come forward and join the group gathered around the table on which the two maps are spread.

"Glad you could join us, Zaiharahel. Gentlemen, this is your new companion for the next few weeks. I'll catch you up on what you've missed, and then you can take some time getting to know each other today before heading out first thing tomorrow morning."

Valsin reviews the situation for Zaiharahel's benefit, and then looks around to see if there are any more questions.

Silver Crusade

Human Fighter (Tactician) 1 | HP: 10/11 | AC: 18 (12 T, 16 F), CMD: 16 | F: 3, R: 2, W: 0 | Percep +0 | Conditions: none | Tall and strong, sober-faced, white and gold linens, chain shirt, longsword, heavy wooden shield

Honus carefully eyes the awkward Elven stranger, scanning him up and down for weapons or telltale signs of his potential. Seeing nothing more than a common short sword does not put his mind at ease. Rather than a continuance of being rude, he turns his gaze back to the maps as the new fourth member of their group steps into their circle.

Well, I was going to ask more about this stranger before we met him, but I guess it's too late for that now. Hesitation-- one of my many personal demons.

At the thought of demons, Honus drifts in thought back to the undead which massacred Railford, killed Alahazra, and nearly killed him as well. He quickly snaps back to the present to make an urgent request, and his voice cracks as he does so.

"AM-brus," He clears his throat and turns red at the ears, "With the amount of danger that will surround us at every turn, a means of magical healing would likely be our most favored ally. Is there anything you can provide in that regard? What of these other supplies that you spoke of, such as the cold weather gear and provisions? Where can we find those?"

As a side note, Honus commissions another ornate metal box to replace one when it finds use. He never travels without one, nor without his collection of reports.

Honus looks over the maps one last time, searching for indications of any specialty gear they may need. Ice picks, snow shoes, climbing gear, etc.
Survival: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18


Valsin shakes his head. "I cannot provide you with magical healing, but will ensure that you're properly provisioned. We'll provide you with outfits that include a wool coat, a linen shirt, wool cap, heavy cloak, thick pants, and boots."

This outfit grants a +5 circumstance bonus on Fortitude saving throws against exposure to cold weather.

"I'll also make sure your provisions are awaiting you first thing tomorrow morning. Enough to get you to the infiltrators, who will provide you with rations to get you back to the extraction group."

Honus survival check:

It doesn't look like you're going over any mountainous terrain, thus removing the need for climbing gear and ice picks. Snow shoes might be useful, but probably won't be needed this far south from the glaciers, while buying extra furs (12gp) for yourself could grant small bonuses to Fortitude saving throws against exposure to cold weather.

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

Mexus contemplates the situation with care while the tip of his tail curls and uncurls at irregular intervals. He is clearly intrigued by the nature of this task.

As a momentary pause in the conversation unfolds as no one else poses a question, Mexus asks Valsin, "Is there anything that we should know about the Infiltration team? I assume that we can recognize them by the accompanying goblin party, but it would be nice if we knew for who exactly we were looking to be assured that we weren't walking into a Shadow Lodge trap rather than the expected rendezvous. And is there an established means by which we can identify ourselves to the infiltration team to confirm that we are the specified extraction team that they are expecting?"


Valsin responds. "Ragna Lightstep leads the infiltration team. She's a highly competent ranger, one of our very best, and her team has been working deep within Irrisen territory for months. They're about seven strong, composed of druids and rangers. She's expecting you, and will recognize you based on your stated affiliations and these orders your are to give her."

At this Valsin pulls out a scroll tube with a waxen seal, which he extends to Mexus.

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

Mexus carefully accepts the scroll tube, and reflexively hands it to his tail, which in turn wraps around the scroll tube. In a smooth and fluid movement, Mexus unshoulders his pack, opens the top flap, takes the scroll tube from his tail, and funnels the scroll tube into his pack, where it comes to rests with several others.

As Mexus resecures the straps holding the top flap of his pack down, he responds to Valsin, "I think that answers the last of my questions. Unless anyone else has further concerns, or you think that there is something else which you can impart that will help us complete our mission, I believe that we can retire to one of the alcoves in the Lodge to become better acquainted with the newest member of our team."

With that, Mexus looks about to make sure that the others don't have additional questions.

Liberty's Edge

Male Elf Rogue 1 | HP: 8/8 | AC: 16 (14 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Active conditions: none

Zaiharahel's eyes follow the tube into Mexus's pack. He shakes his head as he pulls his hood back up over his ears. "No concerns from me. The only thing that would make this more fun would be a tropical climate. And instead of goblins... not... goblins." He opens the door, leaving it open behind him as he slips back out into the lodge proper to reconvene with the group.

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

As he rises to leave, Mexus mutters under his breath, ”If wishes were imenteshes, we’d all be twisted and warped …”

The Exchange

Male Human Alchemist 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 17 (15 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Fort: 3 Ref: 7 Will: 1 | Active conditions: Mutagen; No Armor
Zaiharahel Voldunel wrote:
"The only thing that would make this more fun would be a tropical climate."

"Truer words were never spoken. Let's gather and discuss our shared affinity for warmer weather."

Fahim waddles out behind Mexus, wistfully thinking of the scorching heat of Qadira's sun baked deserts.

Silver Crusade

Human Fighter (Tactician) 1 | HP: 10/11 | AC: 18 (12 T, 16 F), CMD: 16 | F: 3, R: 2, W: 0 | Percep +0 | Conditions: none | Tall and strong, sober-faced, white and gold linens, chain shirt, longsword, heavy wooden shield

As the others file out, Honus gathers and rolls the maps from the table, inserts them into the case from which they came, and makes one final request as he tucks the case under his arm.

"This talk of warmer weather has got me thinking. The thick winter clothes you will be providing will be good, but as you can tell, none of us are accustomed to this climate. An extra fur for each of us would be appreciated. Do you think you can make that happen?"

Once he has his answer, Honus thanks the Venture Captain and follows the rest out the door.

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

The group of intrepid Pathfinders makes their way to a secluded or at least unoccupied corner of the longhouse-styled lodge, complete with an ancient-looking long wooden table, a pair of matching benches, and, perhaps most importantly, a large lit fireplace with a rustic, but very functional stone hearth, adorned with the mounted head and antlers of a dire stag. As they each sit or stand by the fire, adjust their gear, and whatnot, Mexus remains standing and turns his back to the greater lodge, as he faces the other members of the assembled party. His long and ornate flowing robes, the fine-looking dagger at his hip, and the bejeweled signet ring on his left hand clearly mark him as an individual of some style and wealth, and hint at his noble birth. Contrasting drastically with the conventional idealized visage of a noble are the long pearlescent horns that begin at the bridge of his nose, which curl to follow his brow ridge, and eventually slope up past his temples to rest half a foot or so above his ears. And the prehensile, always moving tail that seems to curl and twitch at irregular intervals also seems to detract slightly from a traditional idea of how nobility should look.

After everyone seems to make themselves reasonably comfortable and the fidgeting stops, Mexus speaks with an obvious focus on the elf. ”I am Lord Mexus Navarion, of the House Navarion of the Taldan Empire.” His tone is austere with a slight hint of self-importance, but a fanged grin cracks across his face and the smile seems genuine as its warmth bleeds into his eyes. ”… of course, up here, that means almost as much as malephant dung on a bariaur’s hoof. I’m a wizard of the Society, and my specialty is the translocation of objects, energies, and beings. If you are unfamiliar with my heritage, I am a half-demon, which is also commonly referred to as a tiefling. If you have questions or concerns about that, I think it’s best to get them out of the way now, as we are, in all likelihood, about to place our lives in each other’s hands. If not, then I’m sure our other team members would like to introduce themselves, and answer any questions that you have about them as well.”


Honus Diplomacy roll: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Valsin hesitates, clearly loathe to spend more than he had planned, but the glint in Honus' eye causes him to sag in his chair. "Furs? Four sets? I'll see what I can do. Yes, all right. This mission is of sufficient importance that we can't have you succumbing to hypothermia a few miles from the extraction team. Yes."

He gives Honus a firm nod, and then turns away.

The Exchange

Male Human Alchemist 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 17 (15 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Fort: 3 Ref: 7 Will: 1 | Active conditions: Mutagen; No Armor

Once Mexus finishes his introduction, Fahim shifts around on his bench to face Zaiharahel. This simple act turns into a task to rival one of the Fabled Abdula's ten great undertakings due to Fahim's girth and overloaded satchel. The portly merchant flashes Zaiharahel his famous smile, which helps Zaiharahel look past Fahim's crumb laden beard and overpowering scent of jasmin designed to hide the acrid smell of chemicals.

"Thank you for breaking the ice, Mexus. Although, in this part of the world, I don't see much else to break. My name is Fahim Al-Khabyyr, and I am a merchant and adventurer, but I seem to be doing more of the latter these days than the former. If danger comes up, I throw bombs at it until it stops moving, or one of us gets too close to do so safely. Otherwise, I'm mostly here to provide uplifting conversation and cheerful company."

Fahim takes a drink from a mug of beer he got from somewhere and smiles at the compliments he gave himself.

"The real hero of our group, however, is Honus, our knight in shining armor. While I will not lie and say that our last adventure did not have any losses, we would surely all be dead if not for Honus' blade, which swung true. He alone felled 3 foul ghuls, and almost killed the fourth and final one all by himself. I am pleased he has continued with our group after our harrowing adventures in Railford.”

That should cheer him up some. He has been understandably dour since Alahazra's death. Best he remembers the good he did, and not the bad he could not stop.

Silver Crusade

Human Fighter (Tactician) 1 | HP: 10/11 | AC: 18 (12 T, 16 F), CMD: 16 | F: 3, R: 2, W: 0 | Percep +0 | Conditions: none | Tall and strong, sober-faced, white and gold linens, chain shirt, longsword, heavy wooden shield

Honus takes a seat opposite Zaiharahel, straddling the bench and resting his elbow upon the table. His brow peaks as Mexus skips the lengthy introductions, and nods and grins as the Tiefling presents himself earnestly.

Nice. Perhaps our last adventure has given him a bit of humility. Mexus really is an impressive person when he's not trying to tell you how impressive his lineage is.

His nods blossom into a smile as Fahim begins his own introductions.

Uplifting and cheerful, indeed!

Suddenly, the light turns upon the knight in shining armor, catching him flat-footed and burning his cheeks with the heat of the moment. His eyes turn soft and glassy, and Honus cannot help but to bristle and squirm from a mix of pride and humility.

"Well, I - just - did - what anyone..."

His head bobs and shakes as he tries to find the words, but they seem lost amidst the numerous pauses of his speech pattern. He scratches at his forehead and looks at the table before finally finding the almond eyes of the Elf, Zaiharahel.

"Hi there. I'm Honus."

Honus is a young man, in his early twenties, with dark circles below his eyes and a shadow wrapped across his chin from their previous weeks of travel. His limp brown hair clusters in sweat, and he runs his hands through it every so often to keep it from plastering over his forehead. As he does, it's easy to notice the over-sized muscles that are typically found in the arms of a swordsman. The longsword at his hip and oaken shield on his back are clear indication of his training as well, but Fahim's words speak clearest as to his level of skill.

Liberty's Edge

Male Elf Rogue 1 | HP: 8/8 | AC: 16 (14 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Active conditions: none

Zaiharahel nods to each of the adventurers as they introduce themselves, sitting on the bench next to his overstuffed rucksack and longbow leaning up against the edge of the table.

As Honus finishes his long-winded introduction, he grins wryly, raising an eyebrow. "...And man of many words, you are, Honus. Well met. I look forward to your blade saving us all many, many times. Hopefully *every* time." He nods, then gestures to the other members of the group.

He glances to Mexus. "Mexus... I've never met a demon before, so I can say that I've never met a demon I didn't like. So if you're anything like them, I'm sure we'll get along just fine, regardless of which house you hail from."

He looks to Fahim. "...And Fahim. I suppose that it won't be too much longer that I can safely say that I've never played with explosives, but I never did put much of an emphasis on 'safe', anyway. However, I've been unexploded for most of my adult life, and I hope I can count on you to keep it that way."

"I, as you may remember, am Zaiharahel. As you may or may not have guessed, I come from lands well south of this place, and while I enjoy the cold from time to time, I have a feeling that we're in for something of a frosty treat here. I hope each of you brought extra warm undergarments, because I did not. I am a mild-mannered sculptor by trade, and my skills with a knife know no match. They saw I had a bow, and also some arrows, and so here I am."


Outside a cold wind is picking up, gusting against the boarding house and moaning like a damned soul. Dusk has fallen, and through the narrow windows the gorgeous heavens can seen, a thousand thousand stars pinpricking the night over Kalsgard with such beauty and brightness that you've never seen.


With the introductions done, the realization that it's going to be a long next couple of weeks sink in, along with the fact that this may be your last night in comfortable beds. You each remove yourselves to your bunks, and bed down under piles of warm furs.

The next morning you rouse yourselves before dawn, and in the darkness fumble your way into your cold weather clothing. Each of you also finds a thick fur cloak draped over the bottom of your bed; these are thick and soft and delightfully warm.

The combined Fort bonus the cold weather clothing and furs provide you is +7.

Outside the stablemaster has four horses already saddled. Dawn is just breaking as you mount up, the horses eyeing you warily, their breath steaming in the pale gray light. Their hooves are the size of dinner plates, and they shy and sidestep as you mount.

The groom hands each of you your reins and steps back, and without further ado you head out, single file, through the quiet streets of Kalsgrad and beyond, into the wilderness of the Land of the Linnorm Kings. The road is harsh rock covered with an inch of snow, and the snowy wastes of extend into the distance while the Rimeflow glitters as it rushes past to your left.

The first few hours are shockingly cold. The warmth of the cold weather gear and the furs - which at first within the longhouse had seemed even stifling - quickly leaches away, and soon the cold begins to pry into your warm cocoons with icy daggers.

Hour 1:
Fort Save DC 15 Fahim: 1d20 + 3 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 3 + 7 = 18
Fort Save DC 15 Mexus: 1d20 + 1 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 1 + 7 = 24
Fort Save DC 15 Honus: 1d20 + 3 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 3 + 7 = 26
Fort Save DC 15 Zahairahel: 1d20 + 0 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 0 + 7 = 10

Hour 2:
Fort Save DC 16 Fahim: 1d20 + 3 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 3 + 7 = 16
Fort Save DC 16 Mexus: 1d20 + 1 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 1 + 7 = 12
Fort Save DC 16 Honus: 1d20 + 3 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 3 + 7 = 14
Fort Save DC 16 Zahairahel: 1d20 + 0 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 0 + 7 = 25

By mid-morning, the cold is already beginning to take its toll on Mexus and Zaiharahel. Angry red blotches are growing on exposed skin, and their teeth chatter at regular intervals.

Mexus & Zaiharahel:

Non-lethal damage: 1d6 ⇒ 4 plus fatigued.

Hour 3:
Fort Save DC 17 Fahim: 1d20 + 3 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 3 + 7 = 11
Fort Save DC 17 Mexus: 1d20 + 1 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 1 + 7 = 22
Fort Save DC 17 Honus: 1d20 + 3 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 3 + 7 = 25
Fort Save DC 17 Zahairahel: 1d20 + 0 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 0 + 7 = 19

Hour 4:
Fort Save DC 18 Fahim: 1d20 + 3 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 3 + 7 = 18
Fort Save DC 18 Mexus: 1d20 + 1 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 1 + 7 = 21
Fort Save DC 18 Honus: 1d20 + 3 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 3 + 7 = 12
Fort Save DC 18 Zahairahel: 1d20 + 0 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 0 + 7 = 18

Fahim & Honus:

Non-lethal damage: 1d6 ⇒ 1 plus fatigued.

Honus:
At these temperatures, you will be making Fort saves hourly, with the DC increasing by 1 each hour. Your cold weather gear gives +5 to these saves. If you slow down to half your normal speed, you can also make a Survival check to give people a +2 bonus to these Fort saves (DC 15 + 1/person you are granting the bonus to). Those who are already fatigued will remain that way until they can warm up - usually inside, or at least in a sheltered area with a fire. There are numerous spots you will be able to put in and warm up along the way, but once crossing into Irrisen, you will be on your own in terms of warmth.

By midday, even with the sun rising high overhead (though this far north it's never quite directly above), the whole party is feeling distinctly uncomfortable, exhausted by the constant shivering and fighting off the cold. The Rimeflow rushes past unceasingly to your left, and up ahead about two hundred feet away you can make out a small trapper's hut to the side of the path.

Perception Fahim: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Perception Mexus: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
Perception Honus: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (13) + 0 = 13
Perception Zahairahel: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (6) + 0 = 6

Fahim:

No smoke rises from the the narrow chimney, and snow has built up before the front door's edge, indicating that it hasn't been opened in at least a couple of days.

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

While not particularly happy about the weather, Mexus seems relatively unperturbed by the cold.

Resist Cold: 5

With the trapper's hut in view, Mexus steers his horse in its direction, and calls out to the assembled adventures, "Let's see if we can stop there to take a break to warm ourselves and eat."

As they approach the trapper's hut, Mexus looks it over for signs of recent habitation, or any sign of danger.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21


Mexus:
No smoke rises from the the narrow chimney, and snow has built up before the front door's edge, indicating that it hasn't been opened in at least a couple of days.

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

Looking over the trapper's hut, Mexus says, "I would be surprised if anyone is here. However, it may still be worth checking to see if a trapper's lodge is in fact trapped before we clear away the snow drift at the door and venture in to make a fire."

After a brief pause, Mexus looks to the elf and says, "Zaiharahel, lotesse amin yela lle 'Hel' ten' ai? Uma lle curu panya taina tar vene kurwa pand-neuma elein?"

Common Translation of Elvish:
"Zaiharahel, may I call you 'Hel' for short? Anyway, does your skill set extend beyond dish crafting to include trap finding?"

Silver Crusade

Human Fighter (Tactician) 1 | HP: 10/11 | AC: 18 (12 T, 16 F), CMD: 16 | F: 3, R: 2, W: 0 | Percep +0 | Conditions: none | Tall and strong, sober-faced, white and gold linens, chain shirt, longsword, heavy wooden shield

Honus has the Endurance feat, so +4 to saves v. cold, but would have still failed his DC18 save.

It feels like the entire day has gone by, but the sun says otherwise. Can it really only be midday? We'll never reach the infiltration team if we can't even make it through a single day of travel. We need a better plan. Or maybe we just need soup. That little lodge has a chimney. We can build a fire to warm ourselves for an hour or so, get a hot lunch in our bellies, then push onward.

Honus looks toward the sky when Mexus makes his suggestion to stop, then opens his mouth to speak. When a thick roll of steam escapes off his tongue, he anxiously considers cupping his hands around it and sucking it back in to not lose the little stores of warmth he has left. His hands twitch at the idea, but nothing more.

"Good thinking, Mexus. We should definitely stop for a bit. I can check our maps to make sure we're on the right path, and cross check the latitude and elevation to get a better sense of the weather patterns."

The Exchange

Male Human Alchemist 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 17 (15 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Fort: 3 Ref: 7 Will: 1 | Active conditions: Mutagen; No Armor

"Smart thinking about hidden dangers as well, Mexus. After that encounter with the rock slide, I am willing to suffer in this cold a bit longer to allow us a moment of caution."

Better to be cold a moment longer than have Honus suffer a near fatal wound. Again. From a trap. Hmmm, our dear friend does seem to get fatally wounded quite a bit.

Liberty's Edge

Male Elf Rogue 1 | HP: 8/8 | AC: 16 (14 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Active conditions: none

Zaiharahel chuckles. "Ta's il- vee' quel vee' "hey, lle!" nan' ta will uma. il-Tel'Quessir tend rusv-ta. amin lond't utue y' neuma amin il-sprien-aya am'. One way or another."

Zaiharahel moves carefully towards the door, lightly poking in the snow with his shortsword for traps outside the threshold, then moving in to check the door itself.

ELVISHNESS:
"It's not as good as "hey, you!" but it will do. Non-Elves tend to mispronounce it. I haven't found a trap I couldn't spring yet!"

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

Mexus smiles at Zaiharahel's witty retort and keeps a careful watch on their surroundings while the thie ... er ... um ... sculptor takes a look around the trapper's lodge for snares and the like.


Examining the old door, Zaiharahel sees that it latches from within, is unlatched, and that there doesn't seem to be a trap of any kind.

That he can see.

Turning he indicates as much to the others, who approach and tie the horses to a post in the back to keep them out of sight. The inside of the hut is barren, with only a small fireplace providing much interest, but some generous soul had left stacked cordwood which quickly lights and burns with a blue tinge.

Food is heated, and those that crowd around the fire soon begin to feel respite from the morning's chill. The numbness leaves their fingers and toes, which is instead replaced by tingling and itching as the circulation picks up again. Hot food warms you within, and after an hour the worst of the effects have disipated.

You are no longer fatigued.

Once the time comes to resume your journey, you kill the fire and head back out into the blinding whitness. The cold is shocking, but you find as you mount your steeds that your body's seem to have acclimated to the environment. While still frigid, you no longer actively suffer as you follow the road along the Rimeflow.

You stop for the night in another trapper's hut, sharing the space with a lone Ulfen man, a trapper named Bjorn, who says little and spends his time skinning the various small furry animals which hang from his clothing. A good night's sleep in the relative warmth removes all cold effects (your non-lethal damage all heals overnight.) The sun hangs in the sky late into the evening, and even at midnight the northern horizon still shines with the soft glow perpetual twilight. The clear sky sparkles with stars, and a hint of aurora wraps a greenish curtain across the night.

The morning dawns bright and clear. Bjorn has already left, taking the animal skins but leaving a large pile of entrails and bones steaming in the snow.

Now that you are acclimatized, your cold-weather gear should provide complete protection against this level of cold. The temperature drops at night, so you'll need either a hut or a campfire to avoid Fort saves.

The second day of travel proceeds much more smoothly than the first, and you make up the lost distance easily. On your right is the mighty Rimeflow River, swiftly flowing with the occasional chunk of ice floating downstream. You see the occasional traveler or trapper, most of whom are friendly enough, stopping to share news or a meal.

Late on the second day you come to the confluence of the Rimeflow and the Thundering Rivers, and encounter a semi-permanent camp of travelers, traders, and adventurers. You pass the night in relative warmth and security, and learn a little of the border war that has long plagued the area. The Witch Queen of Irissen constantly harasses the Ulfens here, and they are always on watch for the day when an invasion of witches and evil humanoids pours over the border. There is great hatred of anything from Irissen, including creatures like goblins.

On the third day, well-rested, you follow the river's curve to the north. About midday you see the city of Trollheim across the river, and take the ferry to that city. (You have the opportunity to buy additional supplies at this time if you wish.) Alas, spending the night here will put you behind, and so you turn your back on the warm inns and taverns of the city and strike out north.

The fourth day leads you to the forks where the Iceflow River gushes into the Rimeflow, bringing chunks of ice from its glacial source farther north. The temperature drops, and you have your first taste of snow as you travel. (Not cold enough to change the Fort save situation, though... yet.) Now navigating using your map, you begin the search for the rendezvous point. The land is largely bare, save for infrequent stands of evergreen trees, covered with newfallen snow.

It is near time to stop for the night when from a nearby copse of woods, you hear a whispered challenge, first in Ulfen, and then in the common tongue of Taldane. "Friend of Freyr Darkwine, or of the Witch Queen?" The sound is accompanied by the faint creaking of bowstrings stretching.

Perception Fahim: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Perception Honus: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (1) + 0 = 1
Perception Mexus: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7
Perception Zaiharahel: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

Zaiharahel:

You can see at least 2 figures at the edge of the trees, wearing camoflagued cloaks and with longbows drawn and aimed at your group.

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

Mexus's eyes go wide in surprise, and his tail whips like a snake trying to escape its attachment to his butt for all of half a second.

Freyr Darkwine? Why do I know that name?

Knowledge Roll:
Knowledge:Nobility: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22

That's right, he's the Castellan of Trollheim!

The careful calm of a seasoned noble sets in, and Mexus forces himself to relax. He responds to the questions in a careful and measured tone, and he takes care to keep his hands clearly visible, and making no further sudden moves. "We are simple merchants from Absalom, moving through this land for business and trade. We are unaligned in your conflict with Elvanna, though, if given our preference, we would see Darkwine prevail. We have no desire for conflict with your patrol, and bid you to let us pass unharmed so that we find a place to make camp for the night before continuing on in the morning."

Bluff: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24


GM rolls:
Sense Motive DC 14: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8

"Merchants, are you?" The voice sounds skeptical, but ultimately willing to believe the lie. "You're far from the trade routes. And without merchandise. Are you lost?"

There's a moment's hesitation. "Or looking for goods to transport south to Trollheim?" This last is asked almost reluctantly, as if the speaker, in believing Mexus' lie, doesn't feel it's worth the asking.

The Exchange

Male Human Alchemist 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 17 (15 Tch, 12 Fl) | CMD: 14 | Fort: 3 Ref: 7 Will: 1 | Active conditions: Mutagen; No Armor

So we're going with lying then. So be it. Mexus is one hell of a bluffer. Even I believe we are simple merchants. Note to self: never play Satrap in the Center with Mexus. For that matter, never play Solitaire anywhere close him. Nothing to do now but wait to see how this plays out.

Mysterious Voice wrote:
There's a moment's hesitation. "Or looking for goods to transport south to Trollheim?" This last is asked almost reluctantly, as if the speaker, in believing Mexus' lie, doesn't feel it's worth the asking.

Hmmmm, these may be the contacts we have been looking for. We are in the right spot, after all. Best to handle this delicately.

Fahim looks around and, unable to locate the source of the voice, speaking in its general direction.

"As merchants we are always looking for a good deal on anything that will have value to Society, especially if its just a matter of transporting the goods from here to Trollheim. Though as you can see, we are without horses. Would these goods happen to come with transportation of their own?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21 to show the voice we are not a threat, and subtly show we are willing to confirm that each group is the one the other is looking for.

Sovereign Court

Tiefling, Wizard (Conjurer) 1 | HP: 7/7 | AC: 12 (16 with Armor Cast) (12 (16) Tch, 10 (14) Fl) | CMD: 12 (16) | F: 1, R: 2, W: 3 | Init: +2 | Perc: +1, SM: +2 | Active conditions: Generally a bad, bad man

Mexus rolls his eyes as Fahim speaks, but otherwise remains silent.

He just can't keep his fat mouth shut. If these aren't our contacts, they'll almost certainly know that we're up to something now. He's as subtle as a mist mephit on your doorstep.


At Fahim's words, two cloaked men step out of the forest, their bows leveled at you. From their garb they appear to be Ulfen rangers. A tall woman steps out from behind them, looks you over, and nods to the archers. They relax their bowstrings as the woman steps forward.

"I am Ragna Lightfoot. Let's dispense with the half truths and outright lies. We've been waiting for you. Follow." She leads you around the copse of woods and to a small clearing, where a number of other humanoids are gathered. Four Ulfen warriors are in the process of packing up their campsite, while sitting on a log sit four sullen goblins in a row.

"I'm glad you are here... I've had about enough of our 'guests'," she states flatly. "Come, I will introduce you."

She leads you over to the row of goblins. They are not restrained, and wear only cold-weather gear with no armor or weapons visible. "We found it was easier to give them their freedom," Sverrir whispers as you approach the group. "Less escape attempts that way. These goblins are used to working for humans, and so one boss is as good as another to them."

"This is Kella," Ragna begins, indicating the largest goblin, a female with a number of small skulls hanging from her clothing. "She seems to be the leader, if I can use the term. Next is Ankleknocker, Corpselicker, and that's Dunghurler at the end." Each goblin looks at your group, their faces falling with the realization that they are even further outnumbered now.

"Here's a map. I've marked recent enemy activity here, and here. Your best bet is to cross the river at the village of Harvest's End... there's a ferry there. Don't cross over into friendly territory until you get near Trollheim - we have assurances from the Black Ravens who guard the area that you'll be allowed to pass unmolested. If you cross the river farther north, well... it's unlikely our citizens will allow live goblins to pass through our lands."

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