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The half-orc - thin, almost scrawny for one of his kind - doesn't look up from his book as he enters the room. Just inside the doorway, he stops, apparently oblivious to his surroundings. After almost a minute, he seems to reach a stopping point, lays a scrap of cloth across the page as a bookmark, and snaps the book closed. He looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he notices the tengu.
He has visible scars on his cheeks, running down his neck and under his clothes (an inexpensive but practical traveler's outfit). He wears no armor, but has a dagger and a billy club, along with a couple of pouches, on his belt. Although his clothes and other gear appear well-worn, he has a Pathfinder standard backpack that looks as though it has never left the Grand Lodge.
"Good morning, madam. I assume you are also waiting for Master Zey? My name is Garduk.” He has a distinctly northern accent, and speaks with a rhythm more suited to Skald than to Taldane. "I am a student of the arcane arts, although” - he grimaces in what might be an unsuccessful attempt at a rueful smile - “I have been told that I am not a very good one.”
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Kulga, a heavily muscled dwarf warrior with a sourly aloof expression, looks dubiously at Garduk. Oh good. A bad wizard. How useful. At least we won't be fighting over the glory. As she speaks of glory she unconsciously fidgets with the hem of her threadbare noble's outfit; she wears no matching signet ring or other jewelry of note.
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Garduk takes in the dwarf's armor and obvious strength.
A dwarf with muscles where her brains ought to be, he thinks. Good. She can go first, and I'll still be able to see - and shoot - over her head.
Garduk sticks out a callused hand. "I'm Garduk. Nice to meet you. You're here in answer to Master Zey's call, too?"
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Kamda bursts into the room, and takes up a spot against the wall, dropping his backpack and his shield to the floor beside him. His dragon hide breastplate is decorated with a motif of the five kings mountains, with a dragon flying above them, and a solitary dwarf warrior facing it in battle.
His shield bears his family crest, a dragon's skill set against a mountain, and is made of fine steel, radiating a slight magical aura. The edge of the waraxe on his back almost glows with a crimson hue, the fire forged steel holding heat, prepared for battle. The haft is worn, speaking of countless battles as it was passed from generation to generation.
Bandoliers full of countless vials and flasks cross his chest, and belt pouches bulge with more adventuring items.
Perhaps the most striking feature, though, is tattoo on the right side of his face in Ulfen tradition. In bright red and deep black, the holy symbol of Torag takes up his entire right cheek, stopping just under his eye and ending at his temple. He eyes the gathered pathfinders, and grins.
Ach, another mission fer you lot too, eh? This'un 'll be a cinch, what with Zey plannin' it. We got Torag on our side too, so ye ain't got a thing ta worry 'bout. Me axe'll be sayin' hi ta whatever be wantin' ta hurt ye.
He grins boisterously, and let's out a great laugh.
I be Kamda Stoneheart, o' tha Stoneheart clan o' tha Five Kings Mountains. Pleasure ta make yer aquaintance.
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Garduk sighs, marks his place, and closes his book. He looks up at the new arrival, and starts to roll his eyes at the sight of another armored, muscle-bound dwarf. When he notices the Ulfen-style tattoo, however, he straightens up, appearing to be genuinely interested in the paladin.
"Hilsener, stipendiat reisende fra Nord! Har du noen nyheter av de Land av de Linnorm Konger?"
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A look of respect flashes across Kulga's face as she looks upon the impressive dwarf and his family's crest, followed quickly by a hungry envy as she sees the clearly worn haft of his ancestral weapon.
Well met Master Stoneheart. I am Kulga Gruenakslag. My blood runs thick with the legacy of kings and heroes. May Torag and the Oathkeeper guard our hearts and minds against the rust of this world.
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Kamda grins at the half orc and replies in Skald.
When he sees Kulga look enviously at his axe, his voice takes on a soft tone, and he speaks in their native tongue.
He smiles at his allies.
Glad ta see we be makin' friends already. Whatever this mission is, I think we'll be alright.
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A medium armored Oread walks into the room, his face grey and stone like, with holy symbols of Adabar decorated all across, weapons, shields, armour, the like. He moves terribly slow, but he is not encumbered in any sense, just really slow. "Erm, am I in the right place?" He ask around the room as he wonders what's happening.
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Garduk was about to continue his conversation with the paladin, but at the tengu's words, he turns to her and nods, slowly.
That's right. My old master always said I was the worst student he had ever had, and I have no reason to doubt him on that point. Just your bad luck I'm the only arcane magic-user in the party. Feel free to pass on your complaints to Master Zey when he arrives, although I'm sure if someone better were available, they would be here already.
To Oret, he says, I expect so. I'm Garduk. Nice to meet you.
He returns to his book.
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Kamda replies to the tengu.
Bah! With tha amount o' trainin' it takes ta master tha' magic mumbo jumbo, any o' 'em's fine by me! I ain't seen a dwarf yet what's got tha patience fer all tha' studyin', so there's tha'. Have some respect fer 'im.
To Garduk, he smiles and says.
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Garduk shrugs, then nods. Without looking up from his book, he says:
Looking to Oret, in Terran:
To the tengu, in Common:
Might a very bad student ask your name, madam? And what your role on the team will be? Are you one of the healers Master Kamda suggests might be part of the party?
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"Well that's a surprise, It's not everyday you see someone with the knowledge of my mother tongue. It looks then like I'm in the same position as the rest of you."
Oret turns to the group, "Greetings, I'm Oret, a humble knight of Adabar. Please to make your acquaintances." Soon he shuffles slowly to an available seat to wait patiently for the host.
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Bokkah flashes her symbol of Lamashtu then spins her kukris in her claws. "No, I don't suppose I am one of those healers. I am Bokkah and I help ensure the Exchange's business is never interrupted."
Looking around at the rather brutish crew, she continues, "Although maybe I am the healer on this particular team. Zey has some crazy plans sometimes."
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As Stonegrin enters, the last of the team, he doesn't even get time for a proper introduction before Aram Zey enters the room. Almost as if he knew the exact moment the team was complete. He wears the normal disappointed expression on his face as he surveys the assembled team.
Join hands. He says as he quickly pulls a piece of parchment from his robes.
In the next instant there's a flash of light and you all feel a stomach-churning shift, the cool, saline air of Absalom collapses into the stifling, wet heat of the Garundi coast. Within moments, sweat begins to ooze from your pores as the fetid stink of the local climate envelopes you like a damp blanket.
The scroll in Aram Zey’s hands crumbles into dust, its magic spent. The Pathfinder Society’s Master of Spells removes his hat and begins fanning himself. All right Pathfinders, welcome to the blistering hole that is the Mwangi Expanse. Any of you who bother to keep up with your Chronicles know that the Society has an archaeological expedition working in the Terwa Uplands, about 80 miles northwest of our position. Of course, I doubt if more than half of you read anything but dirty poetry. Then glancing at everyone again, Perhaps not, nevertheless allow me to sum up: the Azlant Ridge site shouldn’t be there. There are no known Azlanti sights in the Mwangi Expanse, but here we are. It may be the best-preserved evidence that the Azlanti at least visited the Mwangi Expanse.
A servant of Angazhan called Ruthazek the Silverback King claims the site, too. His troops have laid siege to it and our people are starving, dying from disease, and running low on ammunition and personnel, which is where you come in.
Zey points north through the treeline, to where a ragtag city of boardwalks and wooden buildings straddles a swampy, red river delta. Your first stop is Bloodcove. He chokes out the word as if it insulted his mother. The Azlant Ridge site needs supplies, and Bloodcove is the nearest trade port. They need 2 tons of food and clean water, five crates of arrows and crossbow bolts, and clean dressings for wounds. House Cartahegn is your best choice as the Society works with them occasionally. We already arranged payment to a caravan leader named Raimondo Scevola several weeks ago. Make contact with him to carry everything north. Also, look for a man named Senzer somewhere in town. He was an alchemist funneling potions and information to our team in the Uplands, but he went silent a month ago. You need to find out why and get that stream of potions flowing again.
Don’t think this will be a simple trip to the market. Bloodcove is a pit founded by pirates and run by criminals—scum with no sense of achievement or appreciation for arcane advancement. Even worse, it’s a stronghold of the Aspis Consortium, which loves nothing more than perverting and profiting from Pathfinder discoveries like Azlant Ridge.
Keep your heads down and do nothing to attract suspicion; perhaps adopt a disguise. Normally I don’t give a damn if you heroic types kick in doors, make asses of yourselves, and die, but more than your lives rests on your shoulders now. If you fail and the Azlant Ridge site receives no backup, it will surely fall.
Aram hands over a coin pouch. As I said, we arranged payment for your caravan some time ago. This should cover the cost of supplies. If you dip into your own resources and manage to survive, the Society will attempt to reimburse you. Once you deal with that business, head northwest.
He presents a sealed scrollcase and an ornate, golden key on a leather thong. Guard these with your lives. The key’s exact purpose eludes me, but the symbol it bears is repeated on a doorway at Azlant Ridge. The scrollcase contains a map to the dig site. My magics secure the case, though, and it will explode violently if opened within five miles of Bloodcove.
Ask your questions now. I return to Absalom the moment I believe you capable of getting to Bloodcove.
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Garduk's hand shoots into the air. Without waiting for Master Zey to acknowledge him, he launches into a rapid-fire series of questions.
"What have the archeologists found at the dig site? Are there really artifacts of old Azlant? What are they like? Can you describe Raimondo Scevola and Senzer for us, so we know we've found the right people? Who is the Society's main contact with House Cartahegn? What do you know about the soldiers maintaining the siege? Who is Angazhan? Is the Silverback King named after a gorilla? Are we supposed to be siege-breakers or just smugglers? How are we to get back to Absalom when we have completed the mission?"
Garduk pauses for breath, which gives Master Zey time to respond or one of the other members of the team a chance to speak up.
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As Garduk fires questions Aram Zey rolls his eyes before replying in his usual terse, acerbic manner. He completely ignores the first 3 questions.
I don't know much about Scevola, other than he's a Varisian. Senzer's an Osirion half-elf, as I just said, he serves us as an alchemist and a valuable source of information and potions for our operations in this region. I believe his shop lies somewhere along the Widow’s Walk. It doesn't bode well that he went silent, so take care in dealing with him.
Zey wipes sweat from his brow, House Cartahegn is as reputable as it gets in Bloodcove and for that reason it's a busy place, all the time. I suspect a fair deal can be reached with any of their agents.
Angazhan is the Ravener King, the Demon Lord of Apes and Jungles. The Silverback King is a gorilla, some sort of hyper-intelligent one, and worshiper of Angazhan. He rules the inland city of Usaro and claims the Mwangi Expanse and all its contents. He’s uncivilized and violent, from what we hear, unwilling to negotiate with us. He rules over a race of sentient ape-men, but they keep a healthy distance from Bloodcove. If you make it that far I would suggest smuggling in if you can, if not use force.
As far getting back to Absalom, just worry about getting in and out of Bloodcove for now. If you manage to make it to the Ridge, rest assured there is a plan to get you back to the civilized world.
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Bokkah is speechless. The strange half-orc just rattled off more questions than she could have ever thought of. Rather than ask anything, she just picks up the key and slings the thong over her neck, tucking the key safely away in her clothing. Then she puts the mapcase in her pack.
Finally she stands up straight and says, "I have dealt with the Aspis already and I am not thrilled to hear about their involvement. But it's not often one gets to visit a gorilla city. Don't worry- we will see the supplies safely to Azlant Ridge."
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Garduk does not fail to notice that Zey neglected to answer the really important questions, or the one about how they were supposed to get home.
He mutters to himself, "Oh, fine. He's Osirian. That's great. I wanted to learn Osiriani, but no, the old bastard insisted on Abyssal. Because who wouldn't want to talk to demons? And don't even think about learning Elvish. At least I can practice my Varisian with the caravan leader. I wonder what language hyper-intelligent gorilla warriors speak..."
While he talks to himself, Garduk kicks a small rock, checks his pouches and weapons, stashes the book he was reading in a side pocket on his pack, tightens the shoulder straps on the pack, and watches Bokkah stow the map case and key. He considers the trap Zey says he placed on the case.
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At the mention of the Aspis, Zey weighs in, The Aspis Consortium runs every crooked or disreputable business practice you can imagine. They strip the history and majesty from anything they encounter and auction it off to the highest bidder. Here in Bloodcove, they shape the law to suit their crimes. From here, they murder, enslave, and pillage their way through the Mwangi Expanse’s interior, stealing away ancient artifacts and knowledge that by all rights belong to the Pathfinder Society.
After another disappointed look, Zey adds It goes without saying you should work out a cover story, your bound to draw attention at some point and you should all know 'why' your in Bloodcove.
Well supplies won't get to Azlant Ridge while we stand here sweating.
With that the Master of Spells casts a spell and in the next instant he's gone.
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Garduk nods at Kulga's plan. "I think you're right to keep it simple. But I doubt anyone would mistake me for a sellsword," he says, waving his hands in front of himself so as to emphasize his lack of armor, weapons, and muscle. He takes a breath, lets it out nervously. "Maybe I should be a runaway apprentice, looking for a new position? It would give me a reason to ask around about the alchemist, and would explain why I might seem evasive or if my story has holes."
Uncertain, he looks to the other members of the team, all of whom are more experienced than he is. Turning last to Bokkah, he asks, "I don't suppose deception is part of your goddess's portfolio, is it? If it is, do you have any suggestions? I don't know much about Torag or Abadar, but I have trouble imagining their warriors as masters of disguise." He turns back to the three intimidating dwarves and the immovable oread. "No offense intended."
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Kamda huffs.
I ain't changin' a damned thing about meself! I ain't disguisin' nothin'
The dwarf paladin spits on the ground, and puts his hands on his hips.
I ain't got no wayfinder yet, but if I did, I'd wear tha damned thing on me forehead! I ain't lyin' to no Aspis scum! If they got a problem wit me tryin' ta save some people what need savin', then I'll let 'em talk ta me axe!
The dwarf sputters a bit more, and then sighs.
What in tha blazes did Zey send me here fer? He knows I can't be lyin and sneakin'. Torag ain't likin' it.
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"We sometimes wear masks, but they are clearly Lamashtan." She shakes her head. "We need a cover story which will account for all us together. I think that Kulga has it right: we use our real identities as much as possible. We are a group of treasure hunters who have come to the Expanse to seek our fortune. We just don't include the parts about working for the Society or aiming for the Ridge."
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"None taken, I wear my symbol with pride." He replies to the half orc, considering his position for a bit, he replies favrouably to Bokkah's suggestion. "Treasure hunters seem as good as a cover, I too for one, prefer we not go the routes of scammers and liars. My last mission was searching for Sevenfinger's tomb, now we could make sure of that story, as he was a very famous pirate."
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Garduk nods with more than a little relief at not having to get through Bloodcove on his own. He mutters a few words and wiggles his fingers for a few seconds, and stains from jungle moss and tree sap spread across his previously clean clothes and brand-new backpack. He casts his spell twice more, checks the results, then looks up at the group. "I thought it would be better to look as though I had actually been out in the jungle, rather than like I just dropped in out of nowhere."
He waves in the direction of the town. "Should we get started?"
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Kamda grunts unhappily.
Torag ain't gonna be happy abou' this, but it be tha only way ta help these people. Gah! Why can't I ever be sent onna mission where I get ta whack skeletons and evil things tha' I ain't gotta hide meself from?
He hefts his pack and his shield, and mutters again.
Well, let's be gettin there then. Ain't no sense in waitin. I ain't lyin to no one though. If they ask what I am, I'm tellin' em. Torag be demandin' it.
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Garduk scowls as the stench of Bloodcove wafts past them on the fetid breeze. "One thing about even the worst northern towns: they don't smell half this bad." He shakes his head to clear it. "Should we start with House Cartahegn? I would think it would take some time to assemble two tons of materiel. But I could also see an argument for contacting the caravan leader first, so we know what arrangements to make for delivery (or pick up) of the goods."
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Garduk nods at Oret's last comment. "This is my first mission for the Society, so I don't know how things are usually done, but I'm pretty sure Master Zey said that the caravan had been arranged, but as for assembling the supplies, House Cartahegn would be our best 'choice,' and that we could start with any of their agents. That sounded to me as though the Society has not even contacted them about what might be needed. But I hope you're right, because things will go much faster if you are. Do you think we should start with the caravan leader, then?"
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Garduk considers the party for a moment - three dwarves, and oread, and a tengu, none of whom appear to be more than five feet tall. I stick out of this group like a big green thumb, he thinks. I doubt we'll have any trouble drawing attention to ourselves.
"I could go either way, but I think we need to be clear about at least having a cover story. We don't want to draw any more enemies to Azlant Ridge, and" - he looks to the paladins and Abadaran in particular - "Master Zey ordered us to come up with a cover story."
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Kamda grumbles.
I still ain't lyin. If they ask me, I'm tellin tha truth and if they got a problem, I'll beat em good.
The dwarf steels himself and shrugs his pack and his shield into a more comfortable position and jerks his head in the direction of Bloodcove.
Well, we best be off. Ain't no sense in sayin' tha same stuff over an over.
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Kamda grumbles.
I still ain't lyin. If they ask me, I'm tellin tha truth and if they got a problem, I'll beat em good.The dwarf steels himself and shrugs his pack and his shield into a more comfortable position and jerks his head in the direction of Bloodcove.
Well, we best be off. Ain't no sense in sayin' tha same stuff over an over.
Garduk opens his mouth to continue the discussion, then closes it. During his journey south to Absalom, Garduck traveled with a family of Varisians for a time; the elderly matriarch used to say "Might as well argue with a dwarf" whenever Garduk complained about something that he couldn't possibly change, such as the terrain or the weather. Then she’d say, “The river doesn’t argue with the stone, boy. But give the river long enough, and it will wear it down to make a canyon. Now stop complaining and put on more water for tea while we wait out the storm.” Truth be told, most of her wise sayings ended with some variation on telling Garduk to shut up and make her some tea.
He thinks to himself, Maybe this is just how real Pathfinders do it. Orders from the top are all well and good, but the agents in the field have to make their own decisions. These people seem to know what they’re doing, and they’ve all got a lot more experience than I have. With a mental shrug, he decides to go along with the group for now. But if Kamda even hints at giving our real destination to someone we don’t trust completely, I’m going to have to do something to stop him. Maybe a distraction, like pretending to faint. Or I could “accidentally” shoot the person he’s talking to with one of my acid jets, although that might cause a completely different set of problems.
Garduk checks the side pocket on his pack once more to make certain that his book is secure. "I suppose I’m ready. Or as ready as I can be, considering that we are about to march into an entire town of cutthroats, thieves, and enemy agents. Shall we?”