|
Bright and early, (and a little too early at that), you are awoken by a loud pounding at your door, followed by a shy voice calling your name from the other side. Hardly even waiting to make sure you have heard them, the Pathfinder in-training scuttles off, hoping to avoid your ire. Jut before hand, she calls out to you, "Master Pathfinder. . . You. . . You are needed at the Tapestry. . ."
Gathering your gear and making at least a half-hearted attempt to clean up before heading out, you make your way to one of the hidden basement chambers below the Absalom Pathfinder Society’s Grand Lodge, but rather than finding an assembled group of fellow agents, you instead simply find a note:
If you are awake at this hour and reading this after being wrested from a great dream, well, you know what to do here. . . as you glance up at the massive Tapestry. It is nearly 10’x10’ (just over 3m x 3m), and depicts a world map, but not one any cartographer on Golarion (or at least not one outside the Society) has ever seen. No, this tapestry, the Hao Jin Tapestry is an artifact of an ancient period where a powerful sorcerer locked away various lands and peoples within it’s magical borders to keep them safe, and for who-knows-how-long, they have existed in relative safety from the outside world. Some years back, in a clandestine tournament in a far off land, the Society emerged victorious, and won the tapestry and it’s secrets.
Unfortunately, they where not the only ones after that prize, and once the Aspis Consortium was caught cheating, the Hao Jin Tapesty was ripped from their grasp. But that was not enough to stop them from trying to plunder it, and so they did, through some sort of magical back door, until the Society eventually discovered it, finally sending a handful of specialized agents to recast the epic spell that had created the artifact originally and removing all the backdoors into it forever. Since then, the Tapestry has served as a specialized teleportation beacon, not only allowing the Society to travel into the many lands hidden away within, but also to travel to select places throughout Golarion as well.
The note continues, . . . You are needed in the Mwangi Expanse. Report in to Venture-Captain
Nieford Sharrowsmith where you will recive more details and meet your team. Oh, and you are already late. . .
P.S.: If you bothered to read this, then I must wonder why you are still here. I did mention you where already late, yes?
P.S.S.: . . . I see you are still here?!?!?! Maybe we,. . . chose poorly?
Rolling your eyes, you recall that sometimes you really hate the Venture-Captains. Placing one finger on the Tapestry, you begin to think of Sharrowsmith’s Emports, a minor trading company more than half way across the globe that serves as a front for one of the Pathfinder Lodges in the Mwangi Expense. As you place a finger from your other hand on the Tapestry, you suddenly vanish, traveling the pathways of magic until you suddenly get knocked from the road, jostled to the ground, once again back in the real <material plane> world. The first thing you notice is the damnable heat and humidity, far different from the rather cold and rainy Absalom, then it’s the strange bush in front of you. Standing and quickly checking that all of your possessions made the trip with you, , you step from the brush to see you have arrived at your destination, and are not alone.
Other agents have likewise just recently arrived, some you know, if by reputation alone, while others you may not be familiar with, all standing before a small shop, , with a large, sun-bleached sign that reads: Sharrowsmith’s Exports.
|
A dwarf with messy brown hair (including his beard) and wearing spiked armor, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and carrying a heavy metal helmet under his arm and his traveling gear strapped to his back enters and blinks a few times.
"..I be tha first tha arrive? ..Tha be new..I wonder if there will be more people joinin'myself on this expedition..I know I be good, but I ain't be this good.."
Caith then continues to read the rest of the note clutched in one of his hands
"..Maybe they took the time to read tha rest of this here note before headin'out?"
Caith then turns around and notices there are others present after all
"Greetings, I be called Caith. Caith Skullcrusher. Sometimes me own Skull, mostly the skulls of others though. Who might yee all be?"
|
A tall, wiry man with a shock of brown hair slouches nearby. He carries a pair a short swords made in the style favored by gladiators. His clothes are rumpled, but clean.
"I am Darius Marel. Loyal son of Taldor, and skilled clandestine operatve. I can fight, scout, and pick locks when needed. I tend to do best when working with another warrior."
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
|
Standing to the side is a heavily bearded human wearing leather armor covered in many pouches and bottles.
He puffs on a pipe as he listens to the report. He has a long spear propped against the wall and a dagger at his belt.
"Roderick Xim here. I have spent the past month in the far north in frigid icy conditions. Anything has to be better or at least warmer.
|
From his bed Nicolae throws one of his boots at the pathfinder trainee but misses as he scuttles off. The notes dont do anything to improve his mood. Cursed overestimted rug. There must be a bathroom somewhere that could put it to "good" use.
After the magic ride the varisian dusts off his cloths and enters the shop.
|
A varisian human, dressed in full plate enters the room with a smilig. Hi guys, I´m Garret, says shaken the hands of them, a Desna follower and faithfull pathfinder.
It looks we´re going to travel to Mwangi Expanse, which is great because I´ll never been there, but we´ll missing part of the travel due to the hurry.
Well, if we are in a hurry we should start learning how to work with the rest of us. I´m not bad at fighting, but my best abilities are in keep all of you as healthy as posible. And as a cleric, I´m learned in religion, mine and others
|
|
With basic introductions, , out of the way, you begin to head inside to find out what’s really going on.
Inside is only lightly less bloody hot than outside in the direct sunlight, but at least it’s something. From what you can gather it’s a few hours later in the morning for everyone else than it is back home in your comfy bed, (where you probably have a bit of “companionship” as well), but you are somewhat used to this.
The reputable merchant and ally of the Society paces one of the back rooms of Sharrowsmith’s Exports, a walled trade compound on the northern edge of Nantambu in the Mwangi Expanse. “I wish I had more to offer,” Allahe apologizes before even presenting what information she has. “Nieford Sharrowsmith never truly retired from being a Pathfinder, even after he started this business. I think, in his mind, he was still the young adventurer that hiked through jungles and fought off troglodyte tribes. Sharrowsmith’s attitude changed over the last few months,. . . I think he was concerned for his legacy and how history would remember him. Would it be for his discoveries or for the export business that dominated his later years? The answer, I fear, was unpalatable.”
She begins pacing for a moment one more before catching herself, “It was no surprise when he packed up and left on an expedition. But that was months ago, and neither the Society nor I have heard from him since. Sharrowsmith has never left for this long without leaving some word as to his status or sending rather demanding missives about business decisions while he was waist-deep in some jungle bog. When my own contacts failed to turn up any useful information, I had no recourse but to go through his private notes.” Allahe motions to the mess of documents scattered about the office.
“What caught my eye was this translated rubbing. It appears to be the most recent piece of a very large puzzle Sharrowsmith was researching and indicated that he may be somewhere in the Bandu Hills. Traders from Fort Bandu have confirmed that he paid the garrison a visit, but that’s where my trail ran cold. Something happened out there, and , Fort Bandu’s commander, refuses to correspond with me on the matter despite knowing how close Nieford and I are. All I received in response was that Nieford had ‘done enough damage for one lifetime,’ and that if I wanted to discuss the matter further I would need to go to Fort Bandu in person.” Exasperatedly, Allahe runs a hand across her forehead and turns her distant stare out the window. “I cannot shutter the business and travel hundreds of miles on the off chance that the praetor can help; the company would fall apart. I’m hoping that you will be able to go in my stead, speak with the praetor personally to learn what has befallen Sharrowsmith and help him return.”
The Bandu Hills remain rich in gold, silver, and gems, despite several centuries of colonial mining. Prospectors arrive from throughout the Inner Sea region to seek their fortune. The local Mwangi tribes often retaliate violently.
|
|
Roderick thinks for a bit before responding
"I only recall a bit of the local history from lessons years ago.
The Bandu Hills remain rich in gold, silver, and gems, despite several centuries of colonial mining. Prospectors arrive from throughout the Inner Sea region to seek their fortune. The local Mwangi tribes often retaliate violently.."
|
|
Darius thinks about the situation.
"It gets fearfully hot in the Bandu Hills. Bad enough to be fatal at times. Fort Bandu is the only settlement gor miles."
"As to the mining, most of it is controlled by the Deeptreasure Mining Co. One of their former rivals now deals more in shipping."
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
|
Interesting information Roderick, but I can´t wonder about what kind of adventure thought Sharrowsmith he was going on. Then garret turns to Allahe, do you have any idea?
"The kinds you pathfinders tend to favor. As a Venture-Captian, I'm certain he was knowledgeable on much more than this," indicating the pile of paperwork in the corner and then once again the rubbing she has set for you to look at, "but I am not privy to it, I'm afraid."
More specifically about the rubbing, "Honestly, I know little about it. This was near the top of the pile of his work desk, and some of the notes I found seemed to indicate he was last studying it heavily. Sharrowsmith’s notes say the rubbing was made by miners in the Bandu Hills over sixty years ago, and the rubbing found its way to him through auctions he frequented. Whatever he read there, it lit a fire under him.”
"I know that a few ships plan on heading that way tomorrow, so if there are no other questions, I highly suggest you use the time to make any preparations you may need, look around town for further supplies, and then find a place to rest. I'll make the arrangements, and send someone to wake you before they sail out."
|
|
As promised, you are able to find a few basic supplies and get some rest before heading out. Early the next morning, Aya wakens you with a knock at your door, informing you that the others are getting ready, and that she has gotten you passage on a boat that is set to leave in 2 hours. Offering a simple breakfast before heading out, you have plenty of time to get ready before departing.
The trip is uneventful, but does follow closely the basic instructions you where given, bringing you close to the boarder between the Mwangi Expanse and the lands of Sarvaga.
The fort is a small frontier settlement surrounded by high stone walls located on the northern edge of Sargava. Within the fort’s walls, dozens of mining companies maintain outposts out of pavilion tents, hiring laborers and purchasing necessary supplies brought in by merchants from the north, south, and west. The fort holds a garrison of somewhere between 100 to 150 soldiers that struggle to maintain a balance of defense of the frontier and protection for the miners and traders within its walls.
When you arrive in Fort Bandu the atmosphere is noticeably tense. Cold stares and accusing looks greet anyone openly identifiable as a Pathfinder, or are easily identified as such. Merchants refuse to open their stalls to such visitors and lay blame on the Pathfinder Society for the “troubles of late,” though these traders are fairly tight-lipped in sharing details. When you ask to speak with the Praetor
Sylien, a group of soldiers surrounds you, not suddenly, but it's pretty clear that they are weary of your presence.
"Follow us." they say, less a request than a command, before taking you to a modest and utilitarian space comprised of several tables and a handful of half-stocked bookshelves. A war table featuring a map of the Bandu Hills region sits prominently in the center of the room, and three tall windows nearby let in a great deal of natural light.
For all the power of his position, Praetor Sylien is like a caged lion—unable to use what strength he has left directly due to Fort Bandu’s dependence on his leadership. The gray in his once coal black hair belies the passing of his youth and the creases in his sun-beaten face tell a story of a lifetime of hard work and little rest. He carries himself with the pride and stature of a man half his age with seemingly infinite patience.
Praetor Sylien is in mid-conversation with a lanky Garundi man in fine attire. Their conversation stops abruptly, and the praetor’s guest disdainful glares at the latest arrivals. “Pathfinders." he grumbles, followed by something under his breath you can't make out, "I shouldn’t be surprised. Only your organization would have the gall to so brazenly show its face when you’ve already caused so much damage.”
“Pathfinders,” the praetor’s voice lacks the contempt of his guest, as if trying to subtly apologize for his tone. “This is Amersanus Valacosti of the Aspis Consortium. We’ve been discussing the troubles Fort Bandu has faced of late. Troubles caused by your organization. I was unwilling to disclose the details to Mistress Allahe by courier, but now that you have arrived, I feel it pertinent to explain the nature of Fort Bandu’s… misgivings. Venture-Captain Sharrowsmith came through here some months ago, gathering supplies and information before setting off on an expedition into the hills. There, he roused the local kobold tribes and angered them enough that they now actively raid our settlements and mining operations."
“Amersanus Valacosti and I were discussing how the Aspis Consortium may be able to help repair the damage your Society has inflicted on the people of Fort Bandu. Now that you’ve arrived, perhaps we can have a more balanced mediation. Your Pathfinder Society has a damaged reputation in the Bandu Hills, so I ask you state your business and why you think I should allow you to even so much as stay within the Fort’s walls. I will only entertain questions regarding Sharrowsmith once I’m assured that providing you information will not further endanger my charges. ”
Please give me a Survival, Know: Geography, Local, or Nature roll, as well as how that might help to calm whatever the current situation is down.
|
|
I can use the wand Caith, and even I can cast that spell on up to three of you every day, but I will prefer to stay with only one cast to reserve some spells in case they´re needed
Once the group arrives at the fort
Garret let´s the most versed in the region do the talking opening his mouth only to point his companions usefulness: As you see we had a native in our group, this will help to meet in peace with the kobold tribes and search why are they raiding the fort, and what to do to stop them
|
|
Valacosti grows increasingly incensed, “Bah! Sharrowsmith professed an intimate understanding of the region and its delicate balance of power as well, and behold the results: dozens dead, dozens more missing, kobolds attacking our mining operations, and people living in fear of the next raid. Praetor, with all due respect, you cannot allow these Pathfinders to exacerbate an already delicate situation. There is good reason that their organization is called by another name the world over. Perhaps you have heard of it, "Murder-hobo
s", Praetor?”
The Praetor does not respond, his expression like a statue, weighing your fate without offering a clue as to what h is thinking, before finally issuing the next challenge, "Sharrowsmith was a well-read and knowledgeable man, yet he disappeared in these jungles and caused damage we’re only beginning to feel the impact of thanks to the local kobold tribes. How is your expedition different? Do you have the necessary strength to survive in this environment where so many others cannot? Show me that those weapons and spellbooks you carry are not just for show."
|
|
Roderick takes great exception to the term "murder hobo"
"More often than not, it is the Pathfinders that are cleaning up the mess left behind by the Aspis.
I suspect this will end up being the case here as well.
But to answer your question, Lord Praetor, we are not novice adventurers.
We have seasoned with several combat missions or the successful unraveling
of the magical or divine artifacts left by the Azlanti and Thassilonian civilizions.
We seek understanding of the power, not just the power for power's sake as some do."
This last statement comes with a slightest sneer at Valacosti and is followed with description of some of the greater magics Roderick has heard rumors or hints during his studies.
"I am fluent in both Azlanti and Thassilonian if you have any further questions of powerful relics."
|
|
And, as you know, weapons and magic it´s not the only thing you need to survive. Knowledges are very valuable when facing with unexpected events. I can tell you a lot about kobold religion, myths, rituals and spiritual beliefs.
And having the proper respect to other races beliefs helps to avoid unwanted harm and sometimes to find common points in negotiations.
|
|
"Why sir, our martial [/i]elan[i] is incomparable! Why we can dance circles around our foes!"
He draws his swords and begins a display of tumbling: twists, ducks, and rolls desigmed to weave through combat safely.
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
|
The Praetor seems rather impressed with some of your displays of the mastery of the body or the arcane arts, but clearly the Aspis agent is much less so, and has gone from trying to subtly slinging insults to now sizing you up as a larger threat to whatever plans he has that he had initially suspected, and for the moment at least, is not saying as much.
"Interesting. You might just be able to survive a week here. But, physical threats are not the only dangers one is likely to face, and knowing just where you stand, and just what sort of leverage will work best is just as important as the size of your sword arm or the magic in you blood. My final challenge is one of subtlety, wisdom, and influence. Show me you have what it takes to survive in the civilized jungle. Or to capture a prize without violence, wither through word or subterfuge."
Visibly frustrated, Valacosti appeals one last time to Sylien. “Praetor. I implore you, send these Pathfinders back from where they came from. This is neither the place nor the time for their presence. For the sake of the people of Fort Bandu, do not let them worsen this situation.” With reluctance, the praetor acknowledges you with a slow nod. Then, after a brief glance to Valacosti, he appears ready to make his decision, agreeing to share the intelligence his scouts have acquired about Sharrowsmith’s likely whereabouts.
Just before he begins, Aspis Agent Valacosti says his final underhanded comments, a last ditch effort to change the situation. “Most unfortunate,” Valacosti observes with disappointment that gives way to menacing resolve. “I believe you are making a grave mistake by placing any faith in these glorified tomb robbers, Praetor. Once they fail, remember that the Aspis Consortium has extended a generous offer of aid in this troubling time. One can only hope that this Pathfinder experiment does not exacerbate the situation further and necessitate our renegotiating the terms.” He then stands, brushing off his robes as if to brush off some filth from your proximity, then excuses himself, stating he has other matters that he needs to tend to.
|
|
With a reserved sigh, the praetor relents. “As the Pathfinders are responsible for getting us into this mess, I see it fitting that we give them the chance to remedy the situation. I’m putting my faith in you, and the lives of the people in Fort Bandu. I pray that you don’t betray that trust, for the consequences could be quite dire for all who call this home. But, I see something in you, and you do have my blessing. Additionally, I have an odd feeling about you, and so,. . .” he tosses a potion to each of you, "hopefully this will help you on your journey."
<1 potion of Endure Elements each>
"To my knowledge, Pathfinder Sharrowsmith’s last known location was at a Gold Crown Mining operation, approximately 20 miles from here." Pointing at a large map on one of the tables, he shows you a general area, and also notes a rough estimate the route he may have travelled.
"It's possible that you may be able to locate others here in the Fort that might know more, but I imagine that they might be difficult to find and time consuming. Otherwise, I suggest that you make your way to the operation there." Afterwards he explains that that is al he knows, and politely releases you from his chambers to return to his work.
Continuing to follow the trail, you begin off on the 2 day trek to the location of the Golden Crown Mining operation. The journey is so far, uneventful, but they where not kidding about the heat. The temperature in the Bandu Hills during daytime hovers around 90° F and increases to 110° F by mid-day, but at night the temperature in the Bandu Hills drops to approximately 70° F.
|
|
Nicolae does not sympatize with the Praetor's plight, he has nothing to do with some oldman's fooly or this backwater town and does not care to be tasked to solve all these people's problems. But he does need to find the fool so he keeps his moth shut, even at the insults throw by the consortium's agent. Yet his blood turns to ice and he will not easily forget the slight. But the magic potion does improve his mood.
By the end of the day the varisian is very tired.
|
|
I don´t really need the potion, so I´ll be glad if someone pick it from my hands and use it. I also can cast the same spell of one of you, so don´t risk to be affected by this weather and tell me who needs it more
Having worked has a guard in a jungle for some time, Garret knows it´s better to look for paths were the air moves, albeit if only a little, and not much humidity. But he also knows his ability to find this kingd of paths is not great, so he tries to suggest the route taking in account the people more used to the wilds.
|
|
"Well, of you're offering Garret, my own luck has been rather poor where illness is concerned lately. The Society keeps sending me off to these blasted backwaters, and I end up paying the priests to remove disease from my body! If you'd rather save your magic, I'll down my potion, maybe save yours for tomorrow?"
|
|
The 20-mile journey to the Gold Crown mining operation in the Bandu Hills takes you across mostly level terrain following a well-worn trail into arid and rocky hills. The mining camp is located in an isolated gorge in the shadow of sheer basalt cliffs.
Hexagonal basalt columns scarred by mining tools line the walls of the gorge. The floor of the gorge is a patchwork of scrub grass and leafless vegetation flattened by frequent traffic. Wooden scaffolding, mining equipment, and trampled tents lie abandoned across the camp. Corpses of laborers rent limb from limb lay amidst the camp’s wreckage, and dried blood darkens the rocks. Several banners depicting a golden crown adorn the scaffolding.
Suddenly you spot motion, as a decaying creature begins to rush at you, traveling on all fours, though it can clearly walk upright. From behind it, one of the half-eaten miners begins to twitch, then it stands, a pale, dead look it it's eyes, then begins to lumber towards you.
---------------------------------------------------
Round 1
Darius () & Nicolae ()
-------------------------------------------------
Undead 1 (), Undead 2 (), & Undead 3 ()
-------------------------------------------------
Roderick (), Caith (), Garret (), & Kylar ()
|
|
Darius rushes forward, drawing his sword and cutting his target down in a single swoop. As it falls to the ground, it's putrid, necrotic flesh bursts into a strange cloud all around Darius. Nicolae hurls a javelin, digging deep, but not enough to return the abomination to it's rest, and as it hits, it too issues forth some foul cloud of undead corruption.
Seeing such an easy target, both of the remaining creatures take to all fours and rush at Darius. Both latch on with their powerful jaws both literally ripping bits of his flesh as and also sending him to the ground. As they do, the one that had just been hurt begins to slowly heal some of it's injuries, before looking at the rest of the group, "mmoooorrrreeee. . ."
Round 1
Darius (-12) & Nicolae ()
-------------------------------------------------
Undead 2 (+5) & Undead 3 (-7)
-------------------------------------------------
Roderick (), Caith (), Garret (), & Kylar ()