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Act I
An autumn chill filled the Pathfinder Society’s chapter house in Almas as Venture-Captain Brackett briefed you. Normally brash and outgoing, the hatchet-faced veteran’s face instead wore an expression of guarded concern. “I need you to venture into the Aspodell Mountains between Cheliax and Andoran; a dwarven prospector there seeks a lost dwarven site and we want in on his expedition. The prospector’s name is Torvic and he’s obsessively searched for years, hoping to find the hidden galleries of his ancestor, the dwarven craftsman Barek Triongger.”
At this point, the chapter’s librarian Wystorn Telfyr stepped forward and from a small wooden case, he produced several tattered scrolls and a gleaming, strangely phosphorescent pearl. “We recently acquired these from a man called Beggar. They describe the Gallery of Wonders built by Barek Triongger during the death throes of the dwarven Empire of Tar Khadurrm.” Picking up the strangely-glowing pearl, the librarian continued, “These pearls are only found in the deepest of the Darklands’ seas. While not especially valuable, a cache of these would be a rare find. Divinations revealed that Barek apparently used this one as a key. We could claim substantial favors from the dwarves of Emperor’s Peak should we discover what it’s a key for.”
Venture-Captain Brackett took over. “I’m wagering that Beggar stole these items, as the likelihood of a wandering vagabond possessing legally acquired dwarven heirlooms seems small. Looking through these documents and comparing them to Pathfinder Chronicles on the matter, it’s clear that this Torvic is onto something.” Brackett cocked a thumb toward Telfyr. “Our librarian was able to glean some information from Beggar about where he acquired these items and was also able to divine a likely location where the dwarf might be holed up. Find him and make an alliance with him; hopefully, he’ll want his pearl back and will show you the way to the Gallery of Wonders.”
Almost 250 years ago, the dwarven Empire of Tar Khadurrm tore itself apart. In the tragic final chapters of a millennium-long tragedy, internal conflicts destroyed a once-great realm. Thousands fled their empire’s turmoil. Among these exiles, the master craftsman Barek Triongger may have been the most famous. Secretive keeper of techniques known in no other land, Barek refused to bow before any other dwarf. Instead of fleeing to some dwarven hold, the renowned craftsman planned his own hall, a well-hidden workshop and gallery. Deep beneath the Aspodell Mountains, the skillful chisels of his apprentices excavated a hidden Gallery of Wonders filled with masterpieces of dwarven artistry. Barek’s dream lasted 20 years before the wondrous gallery was abandoned after toxic mold infested the complex’s air vents, triggering violent madness. A handful of survivors returned to dwarven lands, whispering of madness and murder. The amazing gallery was lost, becoming another legend of the dwarves’ fallen empire.
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"So Torvic might be hiding something? Maybe he's trying to send us to the wrong places instead of the galleries?"
"That is indeed a priceless pearl, we will need both to find its use and to convince the dwarf to grant us access to the place, so we cannot give it to him before finding the use. After that's done the pearl will be given to Torvic?
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To the party, he adds:
"Nice to meet you all. I'm Falksat, a skilled, but inexperienced, Pathfinder."
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A young human woman with Chelaxian features listens carefully to the briefing while feeding some seeds to a raven on her shoulder. Her gaze rests a few moments afterwards on the pearl.
"Charmed, I'm sure." She replies with nonchalance to Falksat's introduction, "Rowanna..." She then tilts her head towards the bird, "And Morrey."
Her attention returns to Venture-Captain and the librarian, "How did the Society cross paths with this Beggar in the first place? I take it that's not his birth name."
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Cesare smiles, a broad and friendly gesture. "Cesare Andistore," he says in a distinct but perfectly enunciated Taldan accent. "I'm very pleased to meet you. I'm something of a jack-of-all-trades, myself. I do a little of this, a little of that." He adds a gallant bow for Rowanna.
He rubs his chin, considering the terrifying stories he's heard (and told) about the Vaults of Orv.
"Is there something in particular the Society wants from the Gallery of Wonders?" he asks Brackett.
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A dour looking dwarf, with red hear receding fast on top, and a large metal-studded club leaning against the wall beside him, merely watches events and listens as others introduce themselves. He stays silent at first before offering in oddly accented common, "They call me Little Foot." There is a note of chagrin as he says it, scowling the whole time.
He glances at the scrolls as they are produced, then noticing they are written in dwarvish runes, starts reading them quietly to himself while touching them as little as possible. As he reads, he seems to grow more attentive to what he sees until apparently finished, he snorts and looks up
"Taken down by mold?" He says incredulously to no one in particular. "That ain't a story they'll be telling in the mead halls, that's for sure."
Noticing the looks on the others' faces, he grumbles something unintelligible, before reading the text for those that don't know the language.
After he's done, he asks of Brackett, "This Torvic, he know you..." he coughs, "'want in'? Most dwarves wouldn't take to well to folks horning in on their claims, especially if he's been working it this long by himself. Or we jumping it?"
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Venture-Captain Brackett responds to each of the Pathfinders in turn. To Falksat, "Torvic has gone to ground somewhere - we normally hear from him periodically. He has not been heard from in several weeks - but the appearance of this pearl indicates that he, or someone like him, is close to the Galleries."
To Rowanna, "Beggar is an occasional source of information. There may be some sage of esoterica that has documented Beggar's origins and history, but I have never encountered them. We will trade with him for information and artifacts in need of preservation, and he will move on to whatever his next passing interest might be."
To Cesare, "The Society wants what it always wants - to research, document, and preserve the wondrous and exotic. In this case, the Society also has some more parochial interest in establishing positive relations with the dwarves of Emperor’s Peak. The Galleries have been lost for centuries, and little is known of their condition, beyond the fact that they were once a wonder of craftsmanship. We also have not approached the dwarves of Emperor's Peak in any particulars."
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A slender elven male in a travelling outfit stands to attention. On his waist is a bulging pouch. He has a watertight, slim bag slung over his shoulder.
err, Venture Captain? I think there has been a misunderstanding. My name is Fearanduil and I was led to believe you needed my support at the lodge. Not that I was required to go into the wilderness with slight pause, looks disdainful these people.
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Another Dwarf walks up. He’s clad in chainmail and a warhammer is slung on his back. He’s got rich brown hair hanging in dreadlocks and a full beard like most dwarves. You can see a sturdy chain with the symbol of Torag and a golden amulet shaped like a shield showing from under his beard.
He looks over Littlefoot's shoulder as they both read the rune. "Eh. Barek Triongger, master craftsman bar none, and his Gallery of Wonders. Legends in Dwarven lore. This also talks about a place called 'Candlestone Caverns'. Find the Gallery of Wonders and the Society's standing would go up sharply with any Dwarven clan."
"Well, I'm in. Just for a chance to see the Gallery would be worth it. Torean Spellbane, one of Torag's Hammers. I protect people from evil spellcasters." He chuckles.
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Falksat smiles to the Elf scholar, and makes no attempt to treat him with courtesy:
"'These people' do not need you, Elf. Feel free to stay and leave the Vault filled with knowledge and treasure for the rest of us..."
"The dangerous mold sounds dangerous, if it is still there. We should all get some protection."
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"Faeranduil, we need an arcanist to help pursue this, one with several languages and a breadth of academic knowledge. And we need that person on scene. You're it, and those are your orders."
"Little Foot, Torvic is aware of our interest - he has been touching base with us regularly. This expedition is specifically because he has not checked in recently. That is not to say that Torvic wouldn't prefer an exclusive claim to these wonders. And it is possible that he has attempted to 'go solo' at the last minute."
Telfyr peers at Little Foot, "The portents and scrying we have performed leads us to believe that Torvic is currently approximately four days' hike from Piren's Bluff - which itself is several weeks overland travel from here."
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Great, this will probably end up as another underground mission. Zarta must really hate me.
Rowanna sighs with minor annoyance "If the elf doesn't want to come along, I'm sure my skills are more than adequate to serve as the group's arcanist. Whatever that means."
"In any case, we should get started. This Gallery of Wonders isn't going to find itself."
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"Well, suppose we're in for quite a hike then." He says, frowning slightly. "Mountains this time of year are always nice!" He adds, though whether he's being serious or sarcastic is hard to tell.
"Oh... we taking the pearl and scrolls with us?" He asks, as he prepares to head out. "If it is a key, we might need all of it to get in."
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Understood Venture Captain, I will need to purchase some equipment though, I assume the shops in Almas can provide for the items that I need. The caravan sure seems to be the most convenient way to travel.
To Falksat
I know we have to cooperate, but that does not say that I have to like you
To Rowanna
What I want is obviously not important. The Venture Captain has made it clear what my orders are. It is good to know that there is another arcanist on the team. That should give us something to discuss during the traveling
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As you all go about your procurement and settling your affairs before heading out, notes are quietly but firmly delivered to each of you.
O Most Delectable of Servants,
While in the Aspodell Mountains, you may encounter a woman named Lyrehawk among the dwarf Torvic’s allies. Once a lieutenant in Westcrown’s Dottari guards, she turned against her homeland to live among the renegades of the wilderness. Your task is simple. Deliver the enclosed message—a note from the man Lyrehawk once loved. Discover whether the traitor still feels any love for the fool who once betrayed her. If so, our land can again profit from her knowledge. Assure her that her betrayal will be forgiven should she return to her nation’s service.
Additionally, your task will bring you near the Candlestone Caverns. Their fae inhabitants are known to produce exotic medicinal agents and toxins. Please acquire any information that you can about these unusual materials. Fail me not or your next whipping will be short.
Paracountess Zarta Dralneen
Servant of the Empire,
My missive shall be brief: the Grand Prince’s physician requires a sampling of the peculiar glowing moss occasionally found in the mountainous regions bordering Cheliax and Andoran. Have no fear—I am assured that the moss’s legendary acidic flesh-eating abilities are over-exaggerated.
In recent trade negotiations, Andoren nationalists have repeatedly maligned Taldor’s benevolent ruler. Enclosed, you will find a journal mentioning Chelish military forces massing on the Andoran border and their supposed invasion plans. Place this journal where Andorens will find it—such as on a trade route in the Aspodell Mountains—and let’s hope the Andorens think their enemies dropped it by chance. No one maligns Grand Prince Stavian III.
For the Emperor!
Baron Jacquo Dalsine
Our Brother,
We had a long standing agreement with a pixie in the same area as your missing dwarf—our pixie contact is also missing. It’s possible they are related. Should you find him, he’ll likely still be wearing the iron scimitar necklace I gifted to him when I bought his services last year. Should he be alive, convince him to contact me. Should he be dead, return his corpse to Almas where one of our contacts will recover him.
One more thing: the Aspodell Mountains harbor an enemy of our land, an escaped slave guilty of cold-blooded murder. He supposedly still carries the ivory-hilted blades he used to slaughter an entire family of Scarzi merchants. Bring me something that belongs to him—other hands will fashion a magical vengeance suited for his villainy.
Kind Regards,
Il Dolce
Loyal Lodge Member,
While in the Aspodell Mountains, your journey should bring you in contact with the dwarven prospector Torvic Scrathmane. Our scholars believe he possesses ancient tablets once belonging to the fallen dwarven clans of Tar Khadurrm. Encourage him to allow you to return these items to the dwarven clans of Emperor’s Peak, a gesture sure to encourage stronger ties between the dwarves and the Pathfinders.
Be advised that several merchants have recently vanished from caravans traveling Aspodell Pass. It is possible that these disappearances are part of some new Chelish plot of conquest. While you are in the area, determine what has happened and whether Cheliax had a hand in these events.
Sincerely,
Grand Master of the Decemverate
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The journey from Almas up into the Aspodell Mountains is uneventful, save for dismal frigid rains. In the plains, the dreary autumn weather carries
promises of a harsh winter, but the mountain weather is much worse. Telfyr’s divinations placed Torvic’s location in a cave about four days’ hike from Piren’s Bluff in northwestern Andoran.
After enduring weeks of relentless mountain wind and sleeting rain, clambering past jagged stone faces and slogging through ice-crusted mud, our heroes finally reach the valley holding Torvic’s encampment. Gnarled conifers surround the mountain trail, their fallen needles carpeting
the rocky valley.
Faeranduil -
Little Foot -
Torean -
Rowanna -
Falksat -
Cesare -
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Little Foot seemed to weather the weather fairly well over the past few weeks, seemingly not put out by it at all.
The last four days on foot, since leaving Piren's Bluff, he's taken the lead when he can, scouting small distances ahead when needed (though some might suspect its just his way of avoiding having to interact with anyone). Other then occasionally trying to slip food to Rowanna's raven when he thinks she's not looking, he's not the most sociable sort.
Scowling down into the valley from beneath his poncho's hood, he looks for signs of the camp they are searching for, but notices nothing untowards.
He glances back at the others for a moment. "I'll lead." He offers, before starting to work his way down, bringing his weapon to hand as he does so.
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Falksat will force himself to speak with the merchants in the caravan about trivial stuff to begin with, but moves to the subjects of their merchandise and the rumors about the safety of the region and whatever appears to be relevant. He counts them and takes mental notes about their defensive capabilities.
Later on the trip, he asks to talk with his partners.
"Fellow Pathfinders. We are all together in this mission, and although I don't have the right to ask for your help, I will tell you this so you would not be surprised by what may happen. Several merchants have recently vanished from caravans traveling through Aspodell Pass. That means, basically, that we could be attacked. We are not sure about what is happening, so I was ordered to investigate it. That's it, so if you see anything amiss please tell me."
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Once the group reaches the encampment, Rowanna addresses her familiar, "Now Morrey, you'll want to stay back from any action. We can't be letting you get hurt, now we can we?" She scrutinizes the bird then observes, "You're getting a little plump for all the flying you've been doing. I hope you haven't been raiding anyone's rations."
"No mistress! I'll stay back, understood." He looks over at Theo for a long moment before flying into a tree to hide.
Rowanna then responds to Falksat's request, "I have no issues helping with any errands you might have been given, as long as you return any favors in kind."
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During their voyage, Cesare keeps the Pathfinders entertained with tales of of the Inner Sea and beyond. He is a good story-teller, and has a fascinatingly broad if not overly deep storehouse of random knowledge.
He also absorbs other people's stories like a thirsty sponge, often interrupting tales to make sure he's got one point or another just right.
When not telling stories or listening to them, he lapses into morose silences for long stretches.
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The wagoneers and traders of the caravan have heard some lurid rumors regarding the safety and surety of the Aspodell Pass. It seems that our heroes have more concrete and reliable information than the caravaneers. The caravaneers are somewhat to understand that there are not actually any flesh-scouring bands of Yeti flaying all of the travelers through the pass.
The credibility of our heroes' information is bolstered, and communications with the caravaneers eased by Cesare's tales and histories. Cesare does pick up a number of stories from these traders and travelers, however the threads of truth buried within them are worn and stretched with time, distance, and vivid imaginations.
At Piren's Bluff, the caravaneers continue on their long route with warm feelings and heartfelt best wishes for the safety of our heroes.
Through four days of miserable, cold, wet weather, the band of adventurers makes their way over treacherous mountain trails, through grasping brambles, and across steep defiles. Nights are cold and wet, and maintaining a campfire is a challenge.
In the end, however, our heroes view the site of the valley holding Torvic’s encampment. Gnarled conifers surround the mountain trail, their fallen needles carpeting the rocky valley. Preliminary exploration of the camp shows little unexpected - a lean-to lined with a tarp. A stone-lined fire pit, days cold. Bones scattered in a midden downwind of camp.
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Torean points up the hill. "Here. There's a trail up to that cave." He walks a few paces up the trail and squints at the mouth of the cave.
"Smoke and sounds of fighting! Also, something else, but it's odd. We should go check it out." The dwarf begins walking resolutely up the hill not even glancing back to see if anyone is joining him.