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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.
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First to arrive is Nemesis Melek, a striking woman with golden eyes and red-black hair exceptionally reminiscent of fire, and wearing tight leather clothes and a gilded breastplate with a black sunburst-shaped shield at her back and a more humble sword at her side, as well as a carved emblem of scorched wood on a the end of a rope thong: the unholy symbol of Ymeri, Elemental Lord of Fire.
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"Hail, Priestess," emerging from the brush, Gwyllgi gives a slight bow. Assessing both her Wayfinder and her unholy symbol, he gives thanks to Erastil for his patience and tolerance.
"My name is C.A. Gwyllgi," touching the stem of his darkwood pipe to his chest.
After introductions, he lights his pipe with a fire striker shaped like an ouroboros. He surrounds his head in a constant swirl of fragrant tobacco smoke while leaning on his walking stick and waiting for the others.
Old Shuck is tall for a halfling and like many of his hin it is difficult to guess his age, but his eyes and the way he wears his armor suggest experience. He wears a modest canvas hunting frock, leather breeches, and practical hunting boots with a drab studded jack strapped in such a way to allow free movement. His pipe and walking stick are constant fixtures and he is armed only with a pair of daggers at his waist. He wears a large rabbit's foot on his belt for luck.
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Approaching the group is a tall Lizard man. He is wearing a breastplate and across his back is a Greataxe that seems to have been taken from a giant.
"Hi friend I am Thoril the Slayer."
He says to the Aasimar. As he is walking up he notices all the little people.
" Oh my why are all these children here and why is this one smoking.... Oh wait you must be those short people, what are they called... Hobys... no thats not it.... Hobo.... no no... Hobbit yes thats it a Hobbit. Well welcome my little friends. If any of you want a lift as we walk just ask."
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A brawny looking, well sculpted Dwarf walks infront of the shop, his hair and his beard braided to match. "Oi, what do we have 'ere? I've never met one of you lot before."He says looking at the strange lizard man."Name is Tholand, I see you carry that large axe, compensating for something are we?"He then erupts in an obnoxious laughter. Oh, pardon me lass, didn't see you and your boy there. He laughs and carries on for another 5 min, and eventually stops to wipe his eyes.
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"I'm more a hobo than a hobbit my friend," he smiles slightly. "We halflings, or Hin, are are an unobtrusive but very ancient people, more numerous formerly than we are today; for we love peace and quiet and good tilled earth: a well-ordered and well-farmed countryside is our favorite haunt. New to you as we have been to many others, great and small, but the world is wide my friend. We will not be the last new thing you find this day."
"I, for one, am glad to have you. Every great story begins with a snake," he pauses a long time in thought looking down at his ouroborus, "or ends with a bear. When whisky and mischief are involved, every great story includes a bear."
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"Aye lad, them be some strong words indeed." Tholand then begins his daily routine practicing his martial arts, and when its not perfect immediately does push-ups.
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While still practicing his form he transitions to mimicking movement of a dragon and controlled breathing." Sad to say I never knew mi Da or Ma, had it not been for Master Choi...."he pauses for a moment and continues."I be known as Warmane now."
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Another halfling, with sandy hair hanging from under his wide-brimmed hat and a friendly smile on his little face, approaches the hut. He walks with a wonderfully crafted staff, but his spry steps show that it is less to help him walk and more to keep it within easy access, as astute observers will notice a special sling attached to the top of it--a weapon. Following the halfling are a mule, carrying a few larger adventuring items, and a small guard dog. A small thrush appears to have its nest in his hat, and one or two rats occasionally peak out from under his coat.
"Hail! and well met, fellow Pathfinders. My name is Peribras Sandlock. I was a thief-catcher in Absalom until I decided that there are just too many things in the world I haven't seen yet!"
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A few minutes later a gnome appears, muttering to himself something about his shop. His blue hair is set in a pompadour, under which sits a pair of smoked goggles. With the exception of a dagger and a sling, he appears relatively unarmed, although a pair of wands hang from his belt. His explorer outfit looks weathered and is stained in various places with grease spots. "The name is Van, good to meet you cats. I hope we can make this quick, I'm leaving a lot of work behind to be here."
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"Nice to meet you Old Shuck, Nemesis, and Van. I look forward to working with all of you." He looks at the Dwarf and Nagaji "And you would be..."
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"I am Thoril the Slayer. It is nice to meat you little one. Are you a Hobbit or a Hobo? And What is the tiny one with crazy hair? He looks like a Hobo Hobbit man and a frail elf decided to have a child."
Having never seen a gnome before either he is a little indifferent about how they look and what they are.
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Tholand finishes up his routine and proceeds to meet the new arrivals."Never seen so many little'uns before name is Tholand Warmane nice to meet you lads."
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Somewhere in the background you can hear a light hearted melody, accompanied by a trilling thrush. The door swings open and in steps a tall well built and muscled man with bright red skin, short horns and a thick black pony tail. He's wearing unusual looking armour covering his torso with well cut dark green trousers and sleeves.
He casually swings a longish baton with material wrapped around it and a small thrush flutters to rest on his shoulders.
Well met fellows! My name is Shar-Lyn, I count myself to be in good fortune to be embarking on this journey with you all. My life would have been lost if not for the Society and now I am happy to be an envoy of it's good work, whilst living a life of adventure and excitement along the way. Take what happened just now, here we are in the middle of the Jungle! Who knows what will happen next?
Looking around and taking in the others gathered here.
So, you are obviously the muscle. He whistles appraisingly whilst eyes flutter to Thorils axe...
And you must be the divine and arcane representatives. nodding to the gnome and the emberkin.
How's about the rest of you fine folks? For myself I am contented to wander the high ways and byways with a song on my lips, a sword in my hand and good companions at either side, fighting together to help the Society make this a better world.
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"What? Little man? Err..."he grumbles for a bit then someone catches his eye."by asmodeus's bottom! What are yuu?" having never seen a Tiefling either he's slightly thrown off.
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Peribras assesses the Tiefling for a few moments. He glances at the Nagaji. It takes all kinds.
"I am Peribras Sandlock, one of Absalom's finer thief-catchers if I say so myself. I can knock people on the head with these bullets" He pats a pouch of sling bullets at his side "from no small distance away, and I'm experienced in a variety of different skills that I've found useful in my career as a Pathfinder so far. I've taken down back-stabbing pirates, conniving merchants, thronging zombies, an angry minotaur, and a possessed woman...
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"I am sorry to hear that. Your life must have been a painful one since that time."
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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." as she grabs on of the sheets to show you.
"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.
Most of the larger mining operations belong to the Deeptreasure Mining Company, which has dominated the local industry for nearly three centuries. Their one-time competitors, the Gold Crown Company, are now better known for shipping and export services.
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When I'm old and addle-brained, will the society send rescue missions after me?
Peribras raises his eyebrows. Traveling through the lethal heat of the Bandu hill-tribe territory, goblins, hobgobolins, kobolds, ghouls, and desperate competing prospectors over every other hill... He grins. Sounds like quite an adventure! Or a right miserable time. Either way I guess we're bound to find out.
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What a fine array of talent we have here! I am sure we will leap into the pages of legends.
Shar-Lyn seems genuinely and truly enthusiastic, no hint of sarcasm in his voice. He pays close attention to the mission briefing.
I can imagine how he must have felt, a life lived for the society, wanting to leave a lasting memory. May i be so lucky when my time comes.
Shar-Lyn strokes his finely shaved goatee as he tries to bring forward the references and locations as they're mentioned.
I'm afraid I don't know about these places you speak of. I suppose the immediate question is how are we to travel these hundreds of miles you wish to send us?
He smiles at Peribras.
That's the spirit. Adventure awaits!
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"So we must bargain with this commander of a fortress, who goes by the title of Praetor and is upset enough to hold a distinguished Pathfinder hostage...or worse. How promising." Nemesis' words are soaked in sarcasm. "As I said, I'm from Korvosa, and grew dissatisfied with it for a reason. I know how stubborn and self-important people like this can be. Perhaps we'll enjoy some great stroke of luck - we ARE Pathfinders, and the improbable is our stock in trade, and someone like our Mr. Sharrowsmith does not get where he has without the spark of providence...still," She grasps the hilt of her sword. "We should all prepare fire and steel."
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"There's a lot of gold and minerals out there in those hills, but those local cats ain't too hot on outsiders digging for it." Van explains after a moment of thought. "What sort of dangers can we expect out there Venture-Chief? Sounds like Peribras thinks we need to be able to stay cool."
After a moment, he snaps his fingers as he remembers another question, "What sort of research is this Sharrowsmith into? Also, what information can you tell us about this Praetor Sylien and Fort Bandu?"
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"Yes Van, this region is full of tension. The Bandu hills are known for their incredible heat. The ground is dry and the sun is hot. They are named for the sometimes hostile Bandu tribes. Neither the Bandu nor the Mwangi take kindly to the influx of prospectors.
A great deal of valuable metals his beneath these hills. The highest one, Mount Nakyuk, had incredibly rich gold veins under it a few centuries ago--right famous gold veins, they were. The Deeptreasure Mining Company dominates the region's mining industry now. They have for three centuries now, in fact. They had a competitor once, the Gold Crown Company, but they mostly just do shipping and exports now.
Anyway, the hostile locals are the reason Fort Bandu exists. It's an effort to protect the prospectors.
What a touchy, touchy situation. The whole thing ready to go up in flames at the slightest spark and our enterprising Pathfinder friend goes missing right in the middle of it.
Say, what nation is responsible for that Fort?"
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Shar-Lyn listens to the others:
Nemesis, I agree that the rich can hold unlawful dominion over the common folk, but it seems in this case you maybe are assuming too much - you say this Praetor is holding Sharrowsmith hostage, we don't know that. Although there is obviously some problem - afterall that's why we're here. Shar-Lyn speaks simply and confidently bypassing the cynicism.
He whistles softly at Peribras' words.
Truly you are well informed my friend, I am most impressed with your knowledge. It may serve us well to be aware of the political situation we are walking into.
Turning back to their host.
Looking at all these pieces of paper, notes and such like, why, out of all of this does this piece. Indicating the Dwarven rubbings Particularly draw your attention? Is this an area he always had an interest in, or is it just that he turned up at the Fort, and thats the connection...
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Nemesis gives the cheery and generous-souled Tiefling a sidelong glance. Aren't we a pair?
"'The rich' are fools - I'm more concerned, certainly in this case, by the prefecture and military sorts, who are generally stupid, but less fool. It's a terrible combination that makes them especially difficult to reason with, especially when they rest with their backs against higher orders given by people who are very often conveniently remote and oblivious."
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Nemesis barely manages to avoid completely cracking up in response to Gwyllgi's claim.
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