The sun baked down overhead as the gentle sound of water sluicing by tried to fool the travelers into thinking that they were simply traveling down a calm river in their homelands. Far from it though, eyes moved steadily along the shoreline and across the water, always alert and never resting on anything for more than a minute.
It was easy to want to get lost in the wild beauty of the Expanse but that was the first and last mistake many tourists made to these lands. As if to punctuate that point, a load roar followed by an equally loud squeal of pain suddenly echoed from somewhere in the dense greenery that hugged the shoreline up to the water’s edge.
Yet still the smooth motion of the canoes as they glided along allowed the mind to drift, to remember how you ended up here in the middle of the jungle.
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You all recognized each other, if not by sight then certainly by reputation. Strong willed individuals, each capable and daring in your own right. You all answered the same call, although your reasons might be vastly different for doing so. So here you were, waiting in a lush suite of rooms for your benefactor and patron.
After a moment the door to the parlor opened and a young man came in followed by a statuesque woman in red leather. The man looked at you all quite excitedly as he pushed his glasses back up on to his nose, his finger leaving behind a smudge of ink on the bridge of his nose. Well dressed and clean, this man had scholar written all over him and as he sat, you could practically smell the dust puff off of him from hours spent in a library.
The woman in red moved behind him and took up a position behind his chair, arms crossed beneath a rather impressive chest. Yet none of you could take your eyes from her face despite this. It wasn’t the beauty of her eyes or the appeal of her looks, but the cold, raw determination behind them. There wasn’t a weapon about her yet it was clearl that this woman was a merciless, hardened killer. The way she moved, the manner in which she held herself behind the scholar; not quite relaxing, looking like she was just on the edge of violence and only needed a small breeze to push her to it.
Patting her leg off-handedly, the spectacled man spoke, his voice exactly as you expect, slightly nasal in pitch. Don’t mind Selinda. She’s just overly cautious. Rightly so, in these dangerous lands of course. My name is Philos Sacrin. Doubtless you’re all eager to get to business.
He leans forward and looks at each of you in turn. I put out the word looking for adventurous types such as yourselves because I am looking to expand my fields of study to the wonders and treasures of the Mwangi Expanse. What I study is everything. History, nature, magic, and other such wonders as few only imagine. The Expanse holds these things and more. However I am not what you would call a field man myself. Thus I am looking for able bodied souls such as yourselves to brave the wilds for me.
Philos sits back in his seat, his clearly rehearsed speech finished. Of course you all have your various reasons for wanting to take part in this but I imagine the gold is what you’re looking towards most. There will be plenty of it for those whom make the cut, if you do. For now consider this a … trial period. I would like for you to find the Golden Idol of Poztequlias for me. This will be no small task I ask but should you prove capable, you will have earned a spot in my employ and all the privilege that entails.
Philos jumps up suddenly and begins to hustle towards the door. There’s so much to do and so little time. Of course isn’t that always the case. Selinda will be in touch and ensure you have the necessary details to begin your trek. And with that he exits the room, leaving you there to ponder your thoughts.
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A loud commotion startles you out of your reverie. At the far edge of the river there is a thunderous sound as the water at the river’s edge churns. The struggle lasts but moments and the current has already pulled you further down the river when you see the scaled coils of an enormous snake rotate slowly out of the water. Just before you pass around a bend in the river, you can see a head the size of a man come out of the water and stare silently after you before its jaws unhinge and it begins to eat its meal.
Suddenly the task ahead of you seems all the more real and the weight of the gold in your pouches suddenly doesn’t seem as important as it had when you left.
A raspy cough punctuates the the wild sounds of the jungle as the pale, dark-haired man at the back of one of the canoes slides his books back into a small satchel at his feet. His features are both severe and exotic, with a bright emerald eyes peering out from a chiseled face. His ears swoop back sharply, tapering to fine points, though this man is no elf. The pronounced widow's peak on his head accentuates his most prominent feature - a set of small black horns.
He has said little for the bulk of the trip, instead spending his time pouring over notes and incomplete maps of the Expanse. His voice is deep and gravelly, his words careful and deliberate.
"And what privileges does your patronage provide?"
"And what privileges does your patronage provide?"
The tall half-orc sits silently in his canoe. His eyes are restless and they constantly scan the jungle. The snake comes as no surprise to him, only cold confirmation of just how deep in the jungle they are now.
The old shaman spoke of creatures such as that. And worse. If the hold hag was right about the snake what else was she right about?
"This deep into the expanse for a mysterious idol. Fortunately the terms made no mention of any other treasure, of which there will be plenty no doubt."
The half-orc strokes the handle of the axe from which is name derives. It is never far from his sight and always wickedly sharp, it's edge made of supernaturally sharp metal, honed by dwarf craftsmen and enchanted with magic.
Alexander looks on the spectacle of the snake with detached interest. Another creature sent on its path towards oblivion. From in front of the half-orc Alexander turns around and in a deep baritone says, All manner of things will be in the jungle I expect. This idol is just a means to an end. He returns to staring through heavy lidded eyes at the scenery around him. You have all noticed during the past days that Alexander tends to have an expression as if he is half-asleep most of the time but the look is misleading as he misses very little and sees deeper than most. He holds an otherworldy air to him that is the result of his strange heritage.
Sitting at the front of his canoe enjoying this little raft ride down on this beautiful country's rivers, a spry halfling in a linen vest and calf length pants rest with his back against the side of the boat. A brown derby sporting a cockatrice tail feather rest over his face. Smoke gently drifts out of his scrimshaw pipe as he polishes an ornate device of peculiar make. Not moving to look at the commotion in the river as it was not near enough to warrant concern, but close enough to warrant him flipping switch on the side of his device.
His pistol, as you've heard him call it, breaks open and he slides a paper tube into each of the barrels. Flipping it back together he, Regi slips the gun back into its holster and continues puffing on his pipe. "Beautiful place, this country. Dangerous, but beautiful. Been here a long time, friend, and it always has so much more to give...or take if ya can find it." Tipping the derby back a bit he glances back and adds with a smile,"And I plan on taking it all. Even the silliest pieces of junk you find in some of the tombs here you can sell to the rubes new to the colonies for half their cash. Sucker born every minute and most of 'em come here from Cheliax lookin' to get there mitts on their piece of the colonial pie, hahaha." With that he leans back again relaxing against the hull his hand on the gently resting on the grip of his fine double-barreled pistol.
Mahlturis offers a derisive snort as he looks up from his notes.
"Like so many, you overlook to real wealth of the Expanse. It's not the land that the Chelaxians covet so jealously, nor the baubles you hope to tow out of some nameless ruin." He shuts his book and extends one hand towards the banks of the river, indicating the thick foliage of the jungle. "You realize, do you not, that these verdant depths once housed an empire as old as Azlant? Do you understand how little is known of its founder? Knowledge is glitters more brightly than any gem, and secrets cut deeper than any sword, my eager little looter. If you truly wish to profit from this venture, than look to the history of these ruins, not their gold."
He adjusts his position, waving his pet Raven off its perch on his staff. "Nicodemus," he rasps, "If you would be so kind as to fly ahead a few hundred yards? I wouldn't mind know what the depths of the jungle hold for us."
Finnian turns at Mahlturis's comment. He gives him a speculative look as he continues to fan himself.
"I have to agree with Mahlturis somewhat. I too am more interested in the knowledge that can be gleaned from the interior. Although, I do not believe that our goals are quite the same." He says with a slight smile.
"Although, to be honest, The gold is pretty important too. Mahlturis, how do you expect to search for that knowledge if you can't fund the expeditions?"
He then looks over to Reginald, "You must show me your weapon sometime. I have never had much use for ranged weaponry, but the implications of those fascinate me. From what little I've heard, they will probably change the more common styles of combat in Avistan and more heavily favor my style."
Grutsnick stretches within the confines of the canoe. His chainmail rustles in the sunlight coming through the overhanging branches. He quietly bites into a mango from the tree they found yesterday during their camp.
"Riches, knowledge, you're talking about the same thing. Power. You think our employer cares about an idol? No, he wants power, and he thinks this idol will give it to him, simple as that."
Grutsnick flexes and gives a feral grin to the others in their canoes.
"My tribe values the power that comes from bone and muscle, a good axe in your hand and the wind in your favor. Their dreams are small. We will crush the defenders around this idol and bring it back to Philos, and he will reward us with power."
Knowing his type he will reward us with a blade in the back, but they know that as well.
Grutsnick hits the mark with the motivations of Philos but power is the motivation of all living creatures. The power over their own life, power over others, power over the natural world, power over magic and knowledge. All are as dust in the end though for the power we wield is an illusion we tell ourselves about to feel secure in our lives. When not a one of us is ever secure, not even the gods are secure. An excellent example of that is Aroden. Alexander's deep voice reverberates around the river. He still has the heavy lidded expression on his face but you see an almost fanatical gleam when he mentions dust and the security of all things.
"And that is precisely why we must seize control of our own destinies. What did waiting upon certainty earn Cheliax? Nothing less than the corruption of the greatest empire Avistan has seen in thousands of years. They placed their trust in fate, and they are now the most spectacular failed experiment of this millennium - prey to their own stifled ambitions. You're right in one thing, Alexander. Nothing is certain except for the unknown, but to forsake all our goals, to shy from the pursuit of greatness because of it? In doing so you surrender to abstracts just as the people of the last age surrendered to guarantees."
"Looks like we got ourselves a passel of philosophers, Reggie," Barker called from the front of his own canoe, where he sat with his polished darkwood and bronze crossbow on his lap. Tipping back the wide-brimmed hat that shaded his face, he grinned at the halfling. "Everyone goes into the jungle looking for something. What matters is who makes it out again."
Pale blue eyes flicked from one of his companions to another, as though taking their measure, though he'd had plenty of time to have done that already on their journey. "I guess I might as well chime in. One thing more important than power out here, though if you like, you can think of it as a derivative. Life outweighs treasure of any sort, I think we'll all agree." He broke into a sudden grin, his teeth gleaming white in the shade. "Life and death. It's always on the line out here. Makes the gamble more interesting."
Mahlturis simply shakes his head. "There are things worth dying for."
Barker tilted his head, watching Mahlturis with interest. "So the bards say. You think power is one of those things?"
"It all depends on who you ask," the tieflings responds as he casually observes the foliage. "For me, I'm inclined to say no. But perhaps this place will prove me wrong."
Grutsnick shakes his head.
"Philosophizers the lot of you. The only things I want dying for power on this trip are whatever stands between us and it."
"I hope not," Barker said with a grin to Mahlturis. "I don't want to be hauling any bodies back with us. Gambling your life is one thing; giving it away is another. I'm with Grutsnick on that one."
As a surprise to everyone the trip down the river, after the snake that is, passes rather uneventfully. Which for the Expanse is an event in itself.
The sun has passed it zenith and it is a few hours before sunset when Nicodemus comes flapping back up to the boats, much as he has been since Mahlturis sent him off earlier in the day. Mahlturis leans his head close to the bird's and after a moment nods his head. It appears that we've reached our first crossroads of sorts.
The canoes pass a bend in the river and ahead you see the same thing you've seen for the last few days, the wide river surrounded by jungle on both sides. It's only once you're right on top of it that you notice the stone obelisk just off the bank of the river. Leaning out over the water, it appears like nothing more than a fallen log, ready to collapse into the river. Upon closer inspection, you can easily see that it is simply the overgrown jungle folliage that gives it that appearance.
Paddling the canoes to shore you all disembark, stretching sore muscles and legs. As you prepare to head inland, the porters begin lashing oars to boat sides with practiced motions. It is only minutes before the porters stand ready behind you, the canoes hoisted to shoulders ready to portage them through the thick jungle. Barefoot and lightly clothed, these men seem well practiced in the art of accompanying adventurers to the Expanse.
According to the notes you received, the next marker you are looking for is roughly 3 days travel due east from here.
Mahlturis leans his head close to the bird's and after a moment nods his head. It appears that we've reached our first crossroads of sorts.
"Lead the way Barker, I will assist you."
Finnian checks his load expertly and prepares for the overland trek.
"If you need assistance, I have spent a lot of time on the road."He looks around at the jungle,"Though my experience in jungles is limited."
As he finishes his preparations, he draws his blade. The light shimmers along the watermarked steel and the wavy patterns reflect rainbow patterns on the ground. He then asks Grutsnick,"Do you prefer the front or do you want to trail?"
"Do you prefer the front or do you want to trail?"
Alexander will prefer the middle where he can use his channels to greatest effect.
"I am effective from the front or the rear Finnian, but I prefer to meet my foes head on. If we've room for 2 I'll take the front, otherwise the rear suits me fine."
Grutsnick shoulders his own pack and checks his straps and fastenings for the march ahead.
Barker consulted with Grutsnick (and Finnian?) quietly as they looked for a path. Adjusting his hat, Barker lifted his crossbow and nodded his head in the direction they would go.
"On towards greater glory, eh fellows? Stay together, and don't lose sight of the man ahead." His passage through the foliage was near-silent, and he kept a wary eye out for trouble.
Barker leading the way, you begin to push into the jungle. And push you must. There is no easy way into the wilds. There is no path, there's hardly even game trails, the vegetation is so thick and pervasive.
Insects buzz around you, finding uncovered pieces of skin and biting. The bites are nothing serious, at least not from these particular insects but they do annoy you and irritate the skin.
After a few hours the light begins to fade, made all the more obvious by the thick canopy of trees overhead. Quicker than you would expect, the land goes dark and the sounds of the night start their song.
Positioning the canoes into a rough triangle, point-to-point, the porters build a small fire in the center and then huddle together, most instantly asleep from the long day of travel. The light from the flames pushes back the darkness but only just, seeming to only reach the edge of the canoe barrier, like a wall of light.
As you all settle in, the sounds of the jungle grow stronger and if anything it seems louder now than it was during the day. The night air hardly loses any of the heat or humidity from the day and the fire's heat feels unnecessary, more comforting for the light than anything else.
"I think we should do three watches, 3 hours each. 2 on and 4 sleeping, that should give us all enough time to rest and still be aware of what's going on. Unless someone objects I will take the middle watch, since I have no magics to refresh and night vision."
This deep into the Expanse we must be alert at all times. Predators may be attracted to that fire.
Barker spent the evening lovingly oiling and polishing his heavy crossbow, then whetting his fine steel machete, and jawing with anyone who wanted to talk, though he didn't speak much with the porters.
He slept in his armor, seeming comfortable enough, with his hat down over his eyes and his hands clasped on his chest.
On his watch, Barker kept his eyes turned from the firelight, staring into the pitch black jungle. He couldn't see much, but his ears searched for the soft sound of a plant moving where it shouldn't, a sudden silence from the night song, anything that didn't belong.
"Well Finnian, if you were were interested in this bit of modern marveldom strapped to my hip, then what better time than on watch to give ya a good look at it.", Reginald says, offering to take the first watch with the duelist. "And if by what I know of that little pig sticker on your side is true, then firearms are likely to be your cup of tea one day,especially these little guys.",he finishes patting the gun on his thigh.
Pulling a little rhomboid gem from his vest pocket and tossing it in the air,Regi simply says, "Light.", and the gem sticks in place hovering in a lazy orbit around his head casting about much light as a torch. "Little buggers come in handy in the darker parts of the world." After checking his cartridge case and other effects were in place for duty, he snuffs the stone and prepares for his watch. "Gonna slip into the shadows cast by the fire. Bein' a little guy can be advantageous if ya use it right, but when ya don't it makes you a snack, haha. I'll be within a couple of feet at any given time, Fin."
That arrangement seems satisfactory Grutsnick. I will take the first watch.
Mahlturis and Grutsnick settle back, the light of the fire casting shadows across the canoes and your sleeping companions. An hour passes quietly and it seems like the night will be an uneventful one. Letting out a contented sigh Grutsnick leaned back, resting his head on the back of a canoe briefly.
It was then that he noticed the 2 large spiders silently descending from the trees above, the red hourglasses on their abdomens glowing in the firelight.
Round 1 Init 22
Spiders, above us!
Waking with a start at the giant orc's call, Regi rolls to his feet drawing Equalizer with lightining speed. "Took them girls a bit longer to come a knocking than I thought it would." Pointing a finger at the nearest spider and dropping his thumb like a hammer, Reginald shouts "BOOM!" causing an intense burst of light in front of the creature's face. "Let's see ya close all eight of them eyes, darlin'."
Alexander wakes with a snarl, the sweet oblivion of sleep shattered back into the waking world by these spiders. Not having near enough time to dress in his armor, Alexander calls on his celestial heritage to summon a globe of brilliant daylight. Illuminating the clearing for everyone and hopefully causing the dark loving spiders some small amount of discomfort. He will deal with them more forcefully in a moment.
Going from a sound sleep to on his feet with his crossbow in his hands in an instant, Barker loaded it, snapped it up to his shoulder, took aim and fired in one smooth motion.
As the spiders descend, they fire globs of sticky webbing down at Grutsnick and Mahlturis, attempting to halt their struggles and devour them at their leasure.
1d20+12;1d12+8
As he wakes to shouts, Finnian's hand automatically grasps the hilt of his sword. Rising, he draws his blade in one smooth motion and then stands in a defensive posture.
Mahlturis growls as he takes a step back from the spider. With the tip of his staff, he quickly traces a pentagram in the dirt before him, muttering some unintelligible words. His whispers suddenly ends in a forceful shout and the rune takes on a reddish glow as the air begins to ripple with heat. The scent of burning sulfur licks everyone's nose as a churning mound of flesh appears with a gurgling roar and arranges itself into a vaguely humanoid shape. Mahlturis raps out a short command in the Infernal tongue, and the creature falls upon the spider with stumpy and scrabbling claws.