Two weeks ago, Osprey showed up at the Grand Lodge in Absalom, his features shadowed by the long cowl of his heavy leather cloak, his unmistakable voice a sullen whisper of both mystery and urgency.
“A grim shadow creeps over Absalom, one that threatens all of us. We know not its source or even its purpose, and need answers to secrets only known to the dead. Your task is one of great importance and urgency. You must retrieve the bones of the ancient mystic Amao from his cairn and bring them to me so our seers can contact his spirit. We need to contact him before these dark forces track his spirit down in the worlds beyond and devour him. Take extra care on this mission, for the Aspis Consortium also dearly desires these bones and their secrets. Amao’s bones rest in a cairn atop a mountain. Go to Cania’s Drop, a small waystation high in the Fog Peaks along the border of Southern Galt. There you will meet with an ex-Pathfinder named Rysam Aklon who will provide you with equipment and directions to Amao’s cairn. You shall hear from me again once you complete your mission, but for now may the gods speed you on your way.”
Now, here in the foothills of a wintery southern Galt, bitter winds blister skin and numbness settles in to exposed extremeties. While Absalom isn’t known for its sunshine, at least its foggy shores are more favorable than the bonebrittling cold of the Fog Peaks. Before you lies your destination, a mountain waystation run by exiles and recluses.
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A well built man in elegantly embroidered clothing, Volkard is a somewhat vain man with naturally curly, shoulder length black hair and a fair complexion.
Ah yes, dear old Galt. I had almost forgotten how much I dislike this place.
Shrugging his pack across his shoulders, Volkard continues his ambling discussion. At least this time I am not buried underground or trying to sneak into Tar Baphon's private demesne. I still have nightmare's about undead snakes. Why is it always undead snakes.
"I feel like I've been here before...well, onward and upward, shall we?" Merisiel is fairly well known around the lodge, so seeing her taking part in a quest such as this is fairly common place.
She insists on taking a slight lead, keeping hidden in the wind and fog.
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"You and me both, Master Tyrion," sighs the woman behind him as she trudges along, shivering despite her furs. This is not her idea of a climate conducive to... anything.
There is a hawk on her shoulder, that vacillates between staying there huddling against her for warmth-- the hawk seems to share his mistress's idea of this being miserable weather-- and occasionally stretching his wings to fly up above the group and peer ahead. Each time, though, the hawk quickly tires of fighting the chill winds, and hurries back down to the shoulder of Sharna al-Subaiyyat.
"Do you want to crawl inside my pack, you nuisance? At least you'd be warm," Sharna mutters. The hawk shrieks its unhappiness in answer.
Sharna doesn't know a damned thing about Galt, probably. Or the man whose bones they seek.
Sharna is a woman clad head to toe in robes such as the desert tribes favor, even if at the moment they are supplemented by heavy furs. All that is visible of her person is a strip of sun-dark skin and heavily kohled eyes.
"There will always be a more pleasant place to reside, my companions. I just hate to think what would be more unpleasant."
Merisial thinks a little about a few rumors she may have heard regarding Galt or Osprey. It'll get her mind off of the cold nipping at her ears, even under her winter cloak.
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Less pleasant? The city of Xin-Grafar, on the Isle of Terror, comes to mind. At least here the sky is not shrouded by negative energy storms day and night.
They send my sister to weddings or as a diplomat. Me? This is first time I've every had a mission with sunshine and was not being chased by either hordes of rotting dead or golems.
With my luck, Amao will turn out to be a lich.
The druid Osprey is a member of the Pathfinder Society, although he tends to work outside of the organization's standard hierarchical framework. He gets his name from his habit of wildshaping into dark-eyed raptors.
The enigmatic Pathfinder is rumored to be writing a secret report that he guards jealously; only bits of it have been fed to the Decemvirate. Osprey is known to be an expert on the Kortos Consortium and their activities in Diobel and Absalom.
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"Sharna al-Subaiyyat," Sharna says with a sort-of-bow to Markavious, because it's hard to bow while walking. "And my feathered friend here is Ra. I also dabble in the arcane arts, though I can claim no specialty such as you have."
Markavious returns the bow A pleasure to make your aquaitance Sharna and Ra. I too have a special friend[b/].
He reaches in his front pocket and a brightly colored scorpion crawls on his hand. [b]This is Elanesadriel He is a bit tired right now as he is mostly nocturnalMarkavious looks at Ra Now don't you be getting any funny ideas about snacking He says smiling.
Merisiel chuckles a little as the two masters of the arcane arts show off their animals.
"If nothing else, those two will most definitely be entertaining to watch, even if this trip is all for nothing."
She then turns to Markavious and speaks to him in Elven.
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Sharna sighs at Tyrion's grumpy suggestion, but leaves further dialogue for now-- because, truth to tell, she's a little out of breath from tromping uphill in the cold, anyway.
When they come within a hundred feet of the waystation, Sharna comes to a stop and rubs discreetly at her ribs and the side-stitch she's developing. She also draws out an intricately-etched stick of metal from her pack and lightly touches Ra with it.
"Ra, if you would be so good as to investigate ahead? Thank you-- what? Oh, alright, I will find something hot for you to eat after. No, I don't know if they have rabbit. --just go fly around the building, will you," the Thuvian woman sighs.
With a little shriek, the bird leaves her shoulder and swoops towards the waystation ahead.
The small hawk circles the building a few times, fifty feet up in the air, scanning the building with keen hawk eyes before it wings its way back to Sharna and the others, and tells her what it saw in a series of caws and shrieks that she seems to understand.
You find a small cabin at the waystation, just before sunset, after spotting a wisp of chimney smoke. Outside the cabin are rows of sleeping sled dogs, curled up together in the deep snow. The few strangers out in the cold eye you with a mixture of nervousness and naked fear. As you approach the cabin, you’re immediately approached by a burly man with a shock of wild curly black hair, with strong, rough features that jut through his scraggly, unshorn beard. With ebon eyes gleaming beneath a low-sloped brow, and a demeanor burning bitter as the highland winds, he introduces himself as Rysam Aklon.
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"Ra sees nothing amiss," Sharna informs the others, and proceeds to trudge forward.
When the big man introduces himself, Sharna gives him a bow, her empty hands raised to her shoulders' level.
"Greetings and well met, Master Aklon. I am called Sharna al-Subaiyyat, and a mutual acquaintance has suggested that myself and my colleagues look to you as our guide to where we may... find our path, as it were. Has the Society already compensated you for your troubles, or may I do so?" she asks politely.
She has no idea whether, as an ex-Pathfinder, he left the Society on amicable terms or not... so, it's always better to smooth any possible hard feelings with gifts... such as a few pieces of gold... at least, in her opinion.
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"Ugh finally some warmth. Well met. We are grateful with your hospitality and will repay you with great stories and news from the outside. Why it was only a week ago I slew a mighty black dragon in Absolom when a great many dragons attacked the city. They brought goblins with them Imagine that, dragons and goblins working side by side." Tyrion chatters away while walking inside assuming the guy there walks with him.
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Rysam snorts at Sharna's remark, "Sweet-cheeks, I believe you are misinformed. I'm not going with you up that blasted mountain. I'm just here to make sure you have what you need and know where you're going. Speaking of..." He fetches a map from the unknowable depths of his grubby coat. It depicts a trail called Qi-Oamatok in the ancient's tongue, but is known colloquially as the Dragon. The trail will lead you strait to the cairn among the snowy peaks. In addition to the map, Rysam equips you with 3 dogsleds, warm furs, 12 days rations and 6 pickaxes.
At Tyrion's mention of black dragons attacking Absalom, he merely grumbles and says, "I knew it was for the best that I left that gods-damned city..."
Almost as an afterthought he adds, "Oh! I should probably tell you that The Dragon bisects wild lands sacred to clans of primitive beastmen that roam the high snowy peaks. I'd do my best to avoid them if I were you."
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The dwarf shows up a little late, dressed warmly in the attire he bought to escort goblins across the world in an adventure that led to a sharp falling out between him and the Grand Lodge. His calloused hands and enchanted well made bow along with many quivers of different colored arrows shows he is an archer and takes his craft seriously. No other weapons beside a lesser longbow adorn him. His beard is trimmed neatly as well as the rest of him and he is dressed in a cloak with decorations from Tian lands.
He is munching on a sandwich and the pungent smell of Varisian spices fill the chill air. The sandwich is wrapped in wax paper to keep the ample juices from getting on his hands.
He claps Rysam on the shoulder: "Where were you when I was doing work with goblins and had no equipment. That expedition was the biggest cluster F*&&^ and a tribute to how the Pathinder bosses can really get their heads up their a$$e$. They should make you a Venture Captain."
He looks around and pulls out two wands clearly labeled healing and mage armor and hands them to whomever will take them.
"I stick to the front and hit things with my bow. I once brought one of those flying creatures that shoots things with his tail down by myself. Now dragons may be a bit of a tougher shot."
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Markavious walks through the snows easily, now wearing a more muted greyish green traveling outfit. He listens quietly to the conversation.
As Volkard so eloquently spoke, Beastmen are no concern
Jory if you wish I will hold your mage armor wand, although I can cast that spell 3 times a day to save on your charges and since you like to be in the front I have additional protection for you
Merisiel shakes the snow off her coat as she enters the lodge, enjoying the warmth it brings. She passes on taking the wands. "If I am in danger, I will find a way out of it."
She gives a bow to Rysam. "Greetings, and thank you for the equipment. I do hope it isn't too much trouble."
While listening to Rysam's instructions, Merisiel thinks back on what she has heard about Rysam and his association with the Grand Lodge.
After hearing the what the actual journey will entail, she turns to her travel companions to work on a plan for the trip.
"So how shall we do this? There are three sleds, and six of us, so two people per sled? Someone with ranged abilites in each sled should we need to make a run for it? We should have someone who is skilled in travel and navigation in the lead."
A thought crosses her mind. "When should we depart? I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a hot meal and a place to rest my feet."
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Sharna politely ignores what she views as the crudeness of northerners. Instead, she offers Rysam a bow of thanks for the supplies he has offered, and follows the others inside.
"You have provided us with enough food for two days' travel," she observes. "May I take it to mean that the path is one day's trip up, and one day's descent, as well?"
At Merisiel's words, she nods. "Also, someone must guide the dogs, yes? I am unfamiliar with these snow-dogs; Master Aklon, might you share the commands that one gives to the hounds?
"As for our departure time: I should think we would want to travel with the most daylight available to us, so setting out as soon as the sun is visible."
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Markavious moves into the lodge giving Rysam the slightest of bows. Trying hard to ignore his crude comments but not surprised by the humans gruff demeanor.
Dogsledding...Well this should be interesting, Do any of you possess some skill with this, I myself have never had need to learn this having spent most of my life in the warmer climes
I agree with Marisiel on her arrangements for the sled
Rysam sighs, "If you wish to you can stay here for the night. It might not be the lavishest of places, but it beats sleeping outside."
He turns to Sharna, "Steering the dogs is fairly simple: shout mush and give them a good whipping if you want to go faster. Shout break and stop whipping them to make them go slower. Finally to turn, just give the reins a good tugging."
A flash of concentration crosses over Rysam's face, "Well, there's avalanches, rockfalls, crevasses... If the beastmen won't try and kill you the terrain sure as hell will."
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"Sounds like fun... Any other creatures we should be aware of? No dragons I hope, hahaha."
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He shrugs and continues, "Can't say that I've heard of any other creatures up there. It's the beastmen who are our greatest concern."
After chatting a bit back and forth with Rysam, Tyrion concludes that, despite his gruff exterior, he is an decent man, and visibly relieved that he can help you, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, or perhaps an old debt has been repaid.
Sighing, Merisiel takes off her coat and approaches the bar. "I say we make for the peak at first light. We just got here, and I know a good drink will help me get some sleep."
Merisiel sits at the bar, ushering over the barkeeper. "Pint of your house brew. I'm thirsty."
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Tywin will talk with all the locals and use detect evil as well. You never know. Since we are chasing Aspis there might be one here. So Tywin will ask the other people some questions which might give them away. However he tries to sneak those questions in with others so that the folks arent alarmed or know what information Tyrion is after.
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Sharna agrees to the proposed plan to spend the night here-- she's in no rush to throw herself back out into the cold, it's true.
She settles in with a bowl of whatever hot stew is being served, fishing out bits of meat to offer to Ra, and relaxes near the fire, listening intently to the discussions around her.
When there is a lull in the conversation, Sharna asks one of the locals, "I beg pardon, but why is the path called 'The Dragon'? It seems like that might hold a story..."
Merisiel enjoys the surprisingly good ale the have at the cabin.
The dwarves don't weasel out any Aspis agents, even though Tyrion detects some faint evil auras among the shadier locals.
Sharna gets one of the drunker locals to tell her about the Dragon, *Hic* "You zee, the ancients cjalled it Winding Serpent, but we alls just chall it the Dragon, see? No reason for fanshy words, right?"
After the drunk passed out, she is hard pressed to recall any useful bits of information about the local countryside (or at least no more than you already know).
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Sharna smiles politely (not that it is seen, with her veil) at the explanation.
"It's true that concision is a virtue," she murmurs, as the man faceplants into his ale. She nurses her own drink more calmly, and after a while murmurs to the other agents, "I think I will stay up a few more hours, sitting in the common room. Merisiel, may I wake you when I go to sleep? It is possible we might have Aspis agents coming to use this waystation as well, after all... or some other unforeseen trouble."
As night closes in, you head to bed, keeping a rotating watch just in case.
Dawn breaks, and you hear the eager barking of the dogs outside, straining at their leashes, ready to go.