Captain Weathers sighs and thinks for a moment. "...a nuanced way of thinking about it."
"Problem IS..." She pushes herself away from the wall and turns to face you. "...the Council of Speakers doesn't like that sort of thing. So, no matter what their reasons for working with the Razmir cult, they're all going to be punished equally."
"I knew some of the guardsmen mentioned in those ledgers personally. Or, at least, I thought I did."
Adriana frowns at the mention of the Council of Speakers,"That is why I hate government work. They don't respect the individual. I doubt they will give you and your boss the freedom the investigate it yourselves."
Adriana sighs and gives her a warm supporting hug.
The captain returns your hug. "I know."
"It's just..." She sighs again. "...it's just a shock, being an upstanding member of the force for so long, only to learn that I might be one of the only upstanding members of the force."
Adriana gives her a smile and thinks Did I just got stung in the heart?
She runs a hand through her hair and asks,"What do you need right now? Knock off early and we can forget the realities of our lives? Or do you want me to all inquisitor on these sell outs?"
Lyra Weathers looks you right in the eyes. "...I think at least one of us has earned an early day off."
"Lets go inform your boss. Maybe two days. I need....extra discipline."
If the others check her inn door there is a 'Do not Disturb' sign outside of it.
Unless they go back to her place..than they get a note saying be back in a day or two....maybe three.
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A couple of days pass...
---------------------
Wealday, 17th of Neth, 4700 AR
Today a blustery wind is howling through the streets, carrying with it fallen leaves and the smell of lakewater. The skies are partly cloudy.
---------------------
After a nice breakfast, you suit up in your armour and prepare to face the day anew. The cult of Razmir may have been driven out of Tamran for now, but its leadership are still at large--and the Isle of Terror out on Lake Encarthan is where they have gone.
As you step out of the inn, with the sun shining on your o-yoroi's fox mask, you notice a very familiar face walking down the street... with her beautiful grey cat ears and tail, her lovely red hair and her full-figured profile, there's no mistaking your beloved wife for anyone else.
---------------------
Your ship pulls up onto the docks of Tamran with the breeze flowing past you, managing to catch the vessel's reefed sail and causing its flag to flap violently. The air smells much cleaner than what you experienced on the Isle--and decidedly much less dangerous.
The capital of Nirmanthas doesn't seem to have changed much... at least, not at first glance. As you disembark from the ship and start to make your way into the city, you notice that most of the townsfolk are going about their business with more of a spring in their step than usual. You overhear a few interesting things as you walk about...
"I still can't believe those Razmirans were raided!"
"It's about time the bloody rangers got off their asses and did something useful--"
"--something should've been done long before now!"
"Will they come back?"
"Cayden willing, they won't--"
Well. It sounds like the cult you were pursuing was rather violently uprooted since you left.
As you walk down a side street, you notice a halfling dressed in what looks like a far-eastern style suit of plate mail armour--with a metallic fox mask. Curiously, she also has a pair of fox ears and a fluffy fox tail.
Much has changed since last Shyla has seen Vixie.
The bakers' daughter was small, soft, meek; her apron was always stained, and though she had dreams of serving in the town guard of Kassen, the clumsy little thing was, most likely, going to get it out of her system after Kassen's little Festival of the Everflame.
Still, the squeal she makes is unmistakable, and the little fox-halfling totters at a rapid pace toward Shyla (relatively, anyway, given her short legs), her samurai armor painted like layer cake.
Despite all the differences, it is hard to imagine she could be anyone else.
"M-Miss Shylaaaaa!!!"
Shyla eyed the strange halfling curiously, then quickly took a step backwards as the chubby legs bolt towards her. She recognized the voice instantly, though it took recognizing the scent of her to be certain this was indeed her Vixie, very far from home and looking much more martial than when she'd left.
"Vixie?! What on Galerion are you doing all the way out here?
She studied the vixen carefully,looking for any signs of injury in spite of the wagging tail.
"Are you okay? It's been ages I know- and a bit of a wild goose chase if I'm honest. It's been...never mind. I'm so happy I found you but...how, why? Are you here all by yourself?
Shyla removed Vixie's helmet to get a better look at her. She went about trying to brush her fingers through her tangle of hair, giving up on it for the time being. The small excited face beamed up at her and she couldn't resist giving her a very passionate smooch.
Vixie giggles in giddy glee as her helmet is pulled off (though it doesn't come off the first time, and Shyla has to tug the strap off of the little halfling's chin). When Vixie finally feels Shyla's lips upon her own, she gives a muffled squeak of delight, shivering from head to toe.
Gasping for breath, she does her best to answer Shyla's question.
"I-I'm okay, M-Miss! I-I... u-uhm, okay, s-so! Y-you know the F-Festival of the Everflame? Th-they picked me! A-and M-Miss Adriana--"
"--and M-Mister Khalaban--"
"--a-and Mister Max--"
"--and M-Mister Bertrand!"
"S-so us and our sh-sheep-- we g-got some sheep, b-by the way!-- w-went to the Crypt and s-some bad men had stolen some s-stuff from the C-Crypt b-but M-Mister Kassen and his h-husband f-from the s-stories were there and they were dead b-but they asked us to get their s-stuff back and s-so we found the masks and they were j-just like the one you s-sent me! S-so we followed them here and e-earlier this week we figured out where th-they lived and I b-beat up one of their l-leader people w-while everyone else took a n-nice rest!"
"I-it's been r-really scary actually and I s-scream a lot but everyone s-says I've been h-helpful!"
"O-oh, and we left the sheep w-with my moms! Th-they can f-fight wolves s-so I-I think th-they're really s-strong sheep."
Adriana watches the reunion of the lovers with a slight bemused look on her face. Thinking Ah love how silly...Sigh I wish Captain Weathers was here..I really have it bad. Well I hope she doesn't mind a open relationship. I am not a one woman type woman...or am I?
Adriana mind going off in odd directions.
While Adriana has been handling personal matters, and the rest of the team has been preparing for the trip, Max has been at a bit of a loose end, trying to find alchemists or apothecaries, not asking a LOT of questions but it was of brief note.
The rest of their time, though, they've been kind of filling the role that the cultists were doing in town -- not the illegal drugs/slavery/etc thing but the 'good works' and trying to find folks to heal and/or patch up.
The little dragon doesn't expect any money or payment from this -- they're just trying to improve everyone's lives a little bit, and maybe spread Dad's name around some.
Khalaban spent a bit of his time preparing for the travel to come. He sought out a Haunt Detector given the rumours of undead, and some Soul Candles for much the same reason. The undead were deadly enough when you could spot them, let alone when they snuck up, so spotting them soon was essential.
He also hunted down additional food, mostly in the form of simple travel rations, travel cake and wandermeal he could use as a base for meals, along with some herbs, spices and basics like dried meat and waxed cheese. Stuff that would travel well. He still had plenty, but adding was never a bad idea.
What he mostly did, however, was get a tattoo. A large sleeve that covered his left shoulder and ran down his arm, chronicling what had happened since leaving home. Khalaban had decided that this was all worth leaving a memory of, even if it was only on his skin one day.
And then, he went to party.
Shyla waited patiently for Vixie to finish her tale before asking follow up questions.
"So you're sure you're okay? I'm glad you have people to help you but I feel awful I wasn't there when you needed help. I left to try to keep our villages safe, and no one can be when such evil nonsense is spreading so close to home. I wish I could say it's all over now, but I think we have a long way to go...and...do your parents have ROOM for sheep? I..."
Shyla trailed off, a bit overwhelmed thinking about how much she just wanted to go home, but knowing what she knew, it felt cowardly not to keep up the fight- besides, it would reach them eventually anyway- cults had that habit.
"Let's go get a drink, eh? I need some shade and an old fashioned."
She grasped for her wife's hand and looked to see which somewhat decent pub was closest.
Vixie opens up her mouth to respond, but doesn’t want to interrupt Shyla. Eventually she simply settles on a nod and a smile; her little hand reaches up to fit into her wife’s, and she follows along to the nearest watering hole.
The two of you run off to the Forest's Bounty. The drinking hall's common room is busy with patrons at breakfast today.
It isn't hard to find the Forest Bounty. The large, timber feasting hall is situated under a pair of large oak trees whose upper boughs form a natural archway. Glowing orange lanterns can be seen in the hall's open windows.
...
Khalaban swings the doors open to reveal the interior of the Forest Bounty: a wide, communal hall, open at both the front and back, filled with wooden tables and benches. Dozens of people gather here, eating, drinking, and laughing. One table of patrons even carries on with a bawdy song that seems to have most of the folk smiling.
The large man approaches the counter along the wall to speak with the vendor there--a halfling man with wide, blond sideburns and proudly full muttonchops. His apron is stained with bits of food and grease, and he marches about behind the bar with alacrity. Peeking behind the bar reveals that there's a raised platform for him to walk around and take orders on.
Shyla has been here before; she discussed the cult with a man in a bearskin cloak, and apparently talked herself up a bit as someone who could figure out the root of the problem.
Vixie grins from ear to ear—or she would, had her ears not recently migrated to the top of her head instead of the sides.
”Th-the food here is s-so good, Miss!” she squeaks as she leads her wife toward an empty table.
”W-we were all g-going to meet here around l-lunchtime anyway, s-so y-you can meet everybody!”
Khalaban returned for lunch, reconsidering the wisdom of having a tattoo and wearing heavy armour. Full plate wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world at the best of times, if not the terrible burden some thought it was, but the tattoo, while well padded, was tender.
The bulky Kineticist saw Vixie and the other woman head toward the table, and moved to join then. "Good afternoon, Vixie. Has your time been productive?" He nodded to the other woman respectfully. "Madam."
'Mister' Max enters the Forest's Bounty along with a dwarven shaman who appears to have vast wordly experience and a tiny cute lizard that keeps wandering all over her.
"Thank you for understanding, Miss Geltl. Most soft-skins don't understand what I'm looking for and it's hard to explain. I didn't know there were less expensive options, and I think I can aff-"
The dwarf waves the kobold off. "No, I'll get lunch. The Society has paid well for my last expedition and I know you're saving up for something... important."
The smoldragon straightens up somewhat and then their eyes alight upon the rest of the team.
"Oh, hey! Hi Vixie, Khala, Adriana!" they offer excitedly to people then glance to the catperson near Vixie. "Is that your mate, Vixie?" is offered as a sudden realizattion that they don't know them.
Almost as an afterthought, but before the dwarf next to them can clear their throat and make the situation a bit uncomfortable Max smiles toothily and excitedly. "This is Shardra Geltl! She's an explorer and a loremaster and she's helping me with a spiritual problem I've run into on my travels and it was just luck that we ran into each other here in Tamran and..."
The dwarf pats the kobold on the shoulder in a polite yet distanced fashion. "Hardly a loremaster like some would believe, but I hear that the bunch of you have been up to some antics here that'd make for a great saga or even inclusion into the Pathfinder Chronicles?" she offers with a courteous tone.
As Khalaban enters, and asks how Vixie's been spending her time, she gives a delighted, open-mouthed smile, bouncing in her seat and pointing at the catfolk woman beside her.
"M-Miss Shyla's here!!!" she squeaks, before she has a chance to introduce herself.
"Is that your mate, Vixie?"
Vixie's nods are fierce enough to create small winds-- especially with her ears flapping and her mess of hair swishing-- and her tail wagging bruises a server's leg (for which each of you likely expect her to apologize profusely, as is her tendency... but she is too distracted to even notice).
"Th-this is Miss Sh-Shyla! Uhm, M-Miss, th-this is M-Mister Khalaban and M-Mister Max."
As a memory enters her head, she grins up at Shyla.
"I-I was a-almost eaten by a f-frog~!" she chimes.
She is not sure what to make of the shaman, but offers a seated bow. "P-pleased to meet you, M-Miss!"
She has no idea what a Pathfinder is.
Shardra gives Vixie a little nod. "A pleasure."
"Now, Maxilla here has informed me that you were all planning to venture out to the Isle of Terror at some point?"
"Tomorrow, I believe, is the plan," Khalaban nodded his agreement. "We have a lead suggesting the items we seek are there."
"If you've run into any information on the Isle that'd be handy for the team to know. I'll be honest, between the matter we were discussing earlier and helping out others in town I've kind of completely lost track of where we are at and anything we could know in advance might mean the difference between success, failure, or even survival?" Maxilla offers thoughtfully.
Shyla notices Vixie's compatriots filing in as she sips a fish stew that she'd ordered. She flashes a toothy grin at the group, bemused that her wife was hanging out with a literal boar and a kobold. She certainly found interesting friends.
Shyla inclined her head in return of the greetings. "Well hello, I'm Shyla of Clan Moondew. It's a pleasure to meet you all and my wife tells me you've all been busy...I'm glad I'm not the only one after the bastards. Do have any..." she'd begin, until more shuffled in with the distinct impression business was being discussed, so she shut up and listened, as it seemed there were indeed leads as to the whereabouts of the cult, and she listened intently.
"I purchased some supplies, but all we really know is that they moved the items from Kassen's tomb to this island." At least, that was all Khalaban recalled. It had been a fun night.
"Our pardon, lady. It is lovely to finally meet Vixie's wife. She has spoken of you on occasion." Khalaban nodded his head again. "Apologies for the interruption, but it sounded you like you also have some business with this 'church' of Razmir?"
Adriana quietly ponders how Shyla's inclusion will effect the nights sleeping arrangement. She has been cast aside for one's true love before...silliness. She does have needs though....*looking at her other companions*. Max is a no...there is no attraction there. Khalaban... mmm. Maybe. Not her usual type but beggars can't be choosers. She will just close her eyes and think of...*Adriana flushes*
Just a second ago I was thinking it silly
"If you've run into any information on the Isle that'd be handy for the team to know. I'll be honest, between the matter we were discussing earlier and helping out others in town I've kind of completely lost track of where we are at and anything we could know in advance might mean the difference between success, failure, or even survival?"
Shardra's expression darkens. "The Isle of Terror..."
"My Pathfinder team only traveled there once." She shakes her head. "It lives up to its name, certainly. Not all of us made it back..."
"Well, to start with, the weather on the Isle is deadly enough by itself. Storms of raw necrotic energy plague the island, and get stronger the further inland you go. Some of the beasts there even thrive off of them. If you find yourself in the middle of such a storm, seek shelter immediately."
"The island is also prone to hurricane-force gales blowing down from the three mountains at its centre. They're strong enough to knock over trees, cause floods, and blow chunks of debris about. They only last for a few minutes at a time, but they can blow people away in that time, so be wary."
"Then there's the locals." Shardra waves down a waiter for a refill on her drink. "The Isle of Terror changes those who are born there. The negative energies of the place warp wildlife into more corrupted and terrifying forms--wolves, trolls, frogs, even the trees themselves..." Shardra shudders.
"Well," Khalaban said after a moment. "That is not exactly thrilling to hear, but we shall have to deal with it. I wonder what possible business the cult could have in such a place?"
"You'd have to ask them yourselves, I suspect." Shardra takes the drink that comes for her and sips from it.
"U-uhm..."
Vixie looks down at the grain of the table, her thumb playing along a groove. She's not sure if this is a good question or not.
"A-are the c-cult people okay? I-I mean, th-they're going to this i-island a-and everything, t-too, s-so... d-does that mean th-they have a w-way that's... n-not dangerous?"
"What sort of equipment did your team have with, did you have any extra gear for dealing with the Island? Any suggestions on things we could bring to improve our chances?" Max inquires after a few moments of awkward silence.
Shardra sniffs. "Regarding gear, you'll want to bring lots of rope--the Isle has several spots where quicksand and tar pits have formed, so of one of you falls in the others can more effectively help you."
"The last time I was there, we ran into a couple of trolls that had been altered by the island. Alchemist's fire or acid will be necessary to bring them down. Also, the island has a far too healthy centipede population that likes to swarm intruders, so any measures you can take to deal with swarms will need to be taken."
"One more thing: don't drink the water there. It's pure poison and will rot you from the inside out."
"As to the cult?" She looks at Vixie. "Well, there's always a chance some of them have died to the island's hazards. You'll at least have information they don't."
Adriana kind realize she is missing a important conversation and kind of looks a little lost.
Focus Adriana, Focus.
Khalaban nodded slightly. "I'll make sure to go out and get more rope, to be safe. Perhaps some climbing equipment too? And perhaps we can compensate for the water with divine magic?" He looked over at Maxilla and Adriana, and noted that she didn't seem quite...present for the conversation. He looked quizzical, but tried not to bring attention to the issue. If she had something she wished to speak on then she would.
"Climbing equipment wouldn't go amiss, no." Shardra shakes her head.
"Wish I listened to Kitterix when he brought that up..."
"Climbing kits for us all," Khalaban agreed firmly.
Adriana thinks for a moment and says"I can prepare create Water."
Once the plan has been made, the party sets out to the docks. The Isle of Terror awaits!
----------------
It's easy enough to find a ship willing to take you out to the island--it appears that the goodwill you garnered from rooting out the Cult of Razmir has done much to convince anyone having doubts about going there to take you along. You board the small trading vessel known as The Trident and soon, you're off across the open waters of Lake Encarthan.
The sailing is slow going, at first--the first day on the water is met with winds blowing in the opposite direction of the island. When the second day arrives, the winds right themselves and the Trident is sped along--and the waters turn stormy and wild. The Trident is tossed about the waves, almost like a cork, but the sailing acumen of captain and crew are up to the task of keeping the ship afloat.
As the third day dawns, the storm clouds recede, and the overcast Isle of Terror looms on the horizon. Black clouds gather about the island's three peaks as the ship sails to the western edge of the island.
"We'll hold here for ten days. Once you're done with whatever you came here for, light two signal fires on the shore so we'll know to come and get ya." The captain says as the party is lowered in a rowboat. After a lot of rowing, the party finally reaches the shore.
On the shore are the ruins of an ancient stone fort, its wind-scarred ramparts and crumbling flagstones all but overgrown with ivy. Anything organic that could have survived the test of time--wood, rope, flesh--has long since been worn away by the island's forces of nature.
Khalaban nodded, making sure he had his set of tinder and flint securely in a pocket before hoping out of the vessel. He did not want to risk having to swim out to try and find them, as he wasn't a great swimmer.
Perhaps not shockingly the first thing he did was scan the area for threats, given how many people had told him that this place was extremely dangerous. He did not wish to be ambushed at the very start of this task.
Looking around, you see at least five twisted lupine forms in the treeline beyond the fort. They're watching the party intently.
Pointing up towards the ruins, Khalaban murmured, "Company already," pointing out the possibly once wolves. Alas, they had no sheep to help defeat these ones.
A search of the landing leads the party to a pair of shallow graves filled with two dead Razmir cultists, their throats having been savaged by several sets of jaws and their iron masks looking to have been thoroughly chewed on. A further investigation reveals a series of tracks leading into the island's interior--and from the looks of things, those who made them made no effort to hide their movement. The tracks are humanoid in origin.
No doubt these tracks belonged to the cult of Razmir. The party sets out to follow them, the shadows cast by the blight-stricken trees looming all around them...
------------------------
The party treks through what feels like a few miles of rolling hills and razor-sharp undergrowth, with a cold wind whistling along behind them and intruding upon them with its icy breath. Dozens of fallen leaves kick up in the wind's wake, spiralling around for moments before being caught and flung up into the open air, or off to the north towards the burgeoning expanse of blight-stricken trees. The sun climbs higher into the sky as the party moves, but the harsh black clouds on the horizon creep ever closer to it, threatening to block it out with each passing hour.
Eventually, the party stumbles across what looks like a large, pitch-black lake of foul-smelling water, with black mist creeping across its centre and drifting northward with the breeze towards a large cliff face. The tracks the party is following seem to decrease in number here, but they continue eastward before eventually turning to the northeast.
Before the party can continue too far, there's a rustling in the undergrowth--and it's accompanied by a frightened whimper.
"H-hello?" A small, timid voice asks.
Khalaban's ears perked up, and looked around for the source of the voice. "Yes? We're here, are you in trouble?" He eyed the black water with distaste - if anything was in there they would have to be very cautious it wasn't a trap, he wasn't sure a mortal could live in such tainted water long.
Khalaban looks around--and almost immediately, he spots the source of the tiny voice. Hiding in a patch of long grass is a small, purple-scaled kobold, dressed in battered studded leathers and peering at the group with wide green eyes.
"Y-you're not with of them, are you?" The kobold asks, looking between Khalaban and Maxilla. "D-did Shardra send you?"
"Hi! Did you come to the island with Shardra? She mentioned a team but also said the island was very dangerous and we shouldn't trust our senses. When you say 'with of them', do you mean the Masked Ones? And what's your name?" Maxilla offers conversationally while also watching the area skeptically -- there wasn't a mention of local kobold tribes or clans that Max can recall.
"Yes, I came here with Shardra as part of a Pathfinder team, but we got separated. And yes, I'm referring to those weirdos in the iron masks." The voice says before its owner takes a couple of tentative steps out of the undergrowth.
"M-my name's Kitterix."
"Greetings, Kitterix. Have you been stuck on the island for long?" It seemed unlikely that she would live that long without some kind of support, unless she was a lot more powerful than she appeared - or lying. Khalaban tried to get a sense of what was going on here.
"Um..." Kitterix starts counting on his fingers, then stops. "...what year is it?"
"4700," Khalaban replied slowly. She seemed to be honest, but surely not knowing what year it was meant she'd been here a terrifying amount of time. Was there a way to check for undead?