The captain proposes a handful of suggestions, citing various known Society contacts in the region and eventually everyone settles on a trip to the small town of Kassen in Nirmathas. With the anchor hoisted and the sails furled, the journey south begins.
It takes several days before the ship docks at Kassen, and luckily there's no river drakes, crocodiles, sea hags, ghosts, Razmirans or worse to impede the Pathfinders' journey.
The captain winks and nods as you disembark before calling down to Ugnoth.
"Bracket says there's a contact for you all at the Seven Silvers. Cygar Anravis. Likely he'll have the skinny on what's going on here."
The small village boasts a population of just under a thousand citizens and seems to be busy readying itself for its harvest festival.
You all can sense trepidation in the locals as you walk from the docks into the town's main square. Men elbow women and point in your general direction. Children stop playing for moments to watch and eye your weapons and armor before running off between buildings.
The clank of a blacksmith's anvil can be heard ringing out as you all stand in the long shadow cast by the relatively comfortable looking two-story inn.
The smell of food beckons you all forward.
|
Alaric seems pleased to be in the saddle again, his Taldan banner unfurling in the breeze as he takes the rear guard. As a slack-jawed farmboy stares his way, he lifts his visor and winks in return. "Smell that, lads? That's fresh country air and a well cooked meal. Say goodbye to dwarf-bread, mosquitoes and horse$hit, it's the smell of a warm hearth and clean feather beds for us tonight."
He sweeps from the saddle, clapping Ramli companionably on the shoulder as he steers his horse toward the smithy. "Go ahead, I'll catch up." he says, pausing, and flicking a silver shield in the sorcerer's direction. He smiles. "First round's on me."
____________
Alaric removes his helm, mopping his brow in the sweltering heat of the smithy, setting it down on a nearby bench as he strides toward the man at the anvil. He knows that a warm forge is a favorite place for gossip, and as a bastard he has always prided himself on not looking down on the common folk. He waits expectantly for the man to m'lord him before speaking. "Well met to you. A fine little town you have here." he says with a warm smile. He introduces himself and asks the man's name in return, inquiring about any troubles in the region as he has his horse reshod.
|
Sad Rock, full of coins from yet another successful mission with the Packminders, follows Sir Alaric to the smithy.
"Sad come too. Maybe buy new armor," Sad says, looking down at his own ratty lamellar crap. Parts of it have rusted, other sections are stained with river drake brainjuice and some of the gaps stuffed with scone crumbs.
"Sad need new armor. Maybe something fancy, like not made of wood. Also, need help making club hold skull on top. Falls down too much." Sad holds up his club, it's clear that the skull's wrappings would fall off the club after a few practice swings, let alone a combat.
With a whoosh of steam, the blacksmith, presumable Renet, drops a pair of tongs into a water-filled metal bucket. He reaches for a cloth and begins to dry his massive sweat-soaked forearms as he approaches you all with a warm smile.
Still, the sounds of a smithy can be heard outside off in the distance.
"Aye, Kassen's a fine place, lad. I'm Renet."
After introductions are made and Alaric makes mention of wishing his horse reshod, Renet engages the knight in some small talk.
"Kassen's a fine place. It's true we've had a little trouble as of late. Usually every few years, we make a big production out of a ceremony for some newly forged young adults."
Renet continues to examine each hoof in turn while he chats.
"Seems we misjudged the danger in the woods, though. Holgast just returned an hour or so ago and said he found two of the kids chewed up by something - bears or wolves or something wild."
After inspecting the fourth hoof, Renet returns to his counter and begins to look in a few wooden crates behind it.
"Might be a chance for some work for a knight like you. Wisslo doesn't have that many seasoned warriors as we don't get a lot of trouble up in these parts."
Renet gives Sad Rock a nod after appraising the items on his counter.
"Afraid I can't give you nothing for this club, here. I could probably find a dozen better in a morning out back in the woods. Ain't seen armor like this leather before, but I can see some of the local militia possibly wanting something like this for the hot summers. How's thirty gold suit ya?"
The fair maiden, no older than her late teens, blushes at Ugnoth's mention of her being both "fair" and a "maiden", nearly dropping the mug of everflowing mead into the northerner's lap.
An older man, presumably the innkeeper spots her near disaster and calls out, "careful Asina - take your time! I'm sure Lirin will be fine!"
Biting her lip that her near mistake almost showered Ugnoth, she carefully sets several mugs onto your table, bows slightly and returns to the kitchens.
The older man, setting a cleaned mug back behind the counter, whips the rag he's holding and tucks a corner into his apron before advancing to your table.
"Strangers, eh? I'm Trelvar, and that lass there's my daughter, Asina. Consider those on me this morning. You three bear the countenance of an adventuring sort, and I heard you were looking for Cygar? He's locked up in his room tighter than a sardine in a can. Not the most social sort, which is why I guess Wisslo hasn't come asking him for help, given the circumstances..."
After some prodding, Trelvar continues.
"Aye, Holgast - he's the town wizard - found his apprentice and another lad in the woods early this morning. Y'see, it's something of a *thing* we do here in Kassen every few years. Send our some of our youths out into the woods for a few nights as a sort of rites of passage..."
Frowning, Trelvar shakes his head.
"We've been doing it for decades since the town was started by Ekat Kassen, what was it? Something like two hundred years ago, now. Basically a handful of folks picked by the mayor head out to the old place where Kassen - the original one that is - is buried. They light a lantern from the 'everflame' there, and bring it back."
Trelvar nods to a number of crates and barrels stacked against his front window.
"When the kids return, we have a big autumn celebration in their honor for being brave and making it on their own. That there's possibly my best batch of autumn cider I've ever made. Holgast found two of the four kids savagely mauled this morning and hoofed it back to town to inform Wisslo. He and his boys are likely arming themselves as we speak to go out on some sort of wild bear hunt. There's certain trouble brewing - you surely tasted it as you walked into town this morning..."
Trelvar might be able to hide his occasional glances at Damvorak and Ramli's staves, but his gaze lingers on Ugnoth's earthbreaker clearly.
"Perhaps you two wizards and your, uh, guardian here, might be just what the town needs today - just like Ol' Deadeye himself heard our collective prayers..."
|
|
"Afraid I can't give you nothing for this club, here. I could probably find a dozen better in a morning out back in the woods. Ain't seen armor like this leather before, but I can see some of the local militia possibly wanting something like this for the hot summers. How's thirty gold suit ya?"
Sad Rock's mood darkens as the man insults his favorite club, the same club that beat back the Aphid Consultants in the Frozen Carpet, the same club that slew the wolf-tree-men in the big hedge, and the same club that beat up the Lady of Silver Mask and Denier of Scones. His mood worsens as the man's offer for the armor is similarly insulting.
"Sad not want gold suit! Sad want armor!"
Sad, displeased, politely excuses himself to go to the other armorer to get the things he needs.
|
Ramli's visage darkens at the innkeepers words, his next words lacking the man's trademark boisterous humor.
"Normally, I'd say something about helping out in exchange for a cup of that there fine cider, but children being hurt, or worse, is no laughing matter. If you need help, this is one wizard who'll be happy to offer his services with spell or staff to gain a measure of vengeance."
|
|
Alaric shrugs apologetically as Sad lopes dejectedly out of the smithy. "... gloomier creature than I've ever met. He's a little simple, but he means well." he hands the reins of his horse to the blacksmith, hitching him to a nearby post as he strokes his muzzle soothingly.
"I should make sure he finds his way back to the inn. Here are a few silvers for your trouble, Mister Renet. We'll see to these creatures, never you worry."
With that he makes his way onto the street, surprised to see the others leaving the inn so soon. "Hail, friends!" he shouts, striding into their midst and placing a steel-clad fist on each of their shoulders, leaning in and murmuring. "There's talk of creatures in the woods. Sounds like a chance for a spot of glory, eh boys? ...Sad's gone sulking up to the smithy. What's say we collect him and speak with this Holgast, eh?"
|
|
Sad (and probably Alaric in tow) goes to the other smithy to buy the things he needs. He seems much happier afterwards and even forgives the jerksmith for being jerky.
"Time to eat food now?" Sad asks upon entering and joining the group.
After ordering food, Sad explains about jerksmith: "...and he want sell me gold suit and not armor."
|
|
Damvorak munches on some food as he listens to the barkeep and then chats with the others.
"Sounds like maybe a bear or some-such has moved in near this flame of theirs. Let's finish our repast and go resolve it so their young ones can complete their right of passage unhindered."
Damvorak takes another bite and long pull from his flagon. He eats a little more quickly, looking forward to the quick hunt, and subsequent good will of the village.
Maybe I can get that armorsmith to make my new breastplate when we're done. Might get a good discount too for all our 'hard' work. hehehe.
Sad Rock's second visit to a smithy proves more fortuitous as he steps into Braggar's Shop, which seems to be stocked with high quality, masterwork weapons and even a handful of exotic suits of armor. After haggling with the dwarf, who seems reluctant to discuss anything besides an outrageous price for his work, Sad seems content to part with his shiny new club and dragonhide armor.
Trelvar, the inn-keeper nods to the two wizards and warrior in his midst, adding one final suggestion before they step back into the street.
"I'd talk to Wisslo if I were you lot, since he'd be in charge of whatever the guards are doing next."
|
|
Alaric scratches his meager beard, his elven heritage not lending itself to the Taldan fashions, and folds his arms. "We've been riding for hours. What's say we meet them here over some cakes and ale?" he says, rubbing his hands together with delight. "You boy! I've a few silvers for you if you run a message to Wisslo and Holgast..."
The young boy catches Alaric's silver and nods at the knight.
"Right away, sir! I'll go tell him!"
As you return back into the interior of the inn, Trelvar is a bit surprised to see you return so soon.
"Ah, change your mind lads? Decide to talk to your fellow upstairs first?"
Gesturing to his daughter and then the stairs, Trelvar adds, "Asina, dear, go see if you can summon that recluse from his room. Tell him the rest of his flock's been shepherded into town."
With a curt nod, the young girl disappears while Trelvar cleans off the very same table you occupied not a few minutes earlier.
A minute later, Asina returns, flush-faced and breathlessly she informs you all, "Okay, he said he's coming!"
After about a minute, your attention turns to the dull thunk of a man descending the wooden stairs into the common room. As he finally comes into view, you recognize a scarred man in a hooded green cloak drawn over his chain shirt.
His eyes narrow as he studies you all for a moment, and the scowl he wears never leaves his face
"Pathfinders..."
His voice is deep and husky and perhaps a bit overly dramatic.
"It's good that you've come, there is business for our Society here."
Almost like a bat, he seems to glide from a few stairs up across the room next to your table. Shaking your heads and rubbing your eyes, you realize he merely walked over, but somehow it seemed more theatrical than simply a man walking across a room.
Cygar gets right to the point.
"We need to start a lodge in Nirmathas. I've been scouting Kassen and Tamriel. But we need to show the locals we're good folks, and not the murderous hobos that the damned Aspis keep painting us as."
His eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of Sad Rock's club, Ugnoth's earthbreaker and Alaric's flail.
"You'll probably do. For now."
|
|
"Murder-hobos?" Alaric chuckles, incredulously. He looks around to the group, an orc, a savage, a Qadiran, Sir Rocks-For-Brains and a penniless bastard. His shoulders sag a little. "... on second thought, perhaps you'd better sit. I've sent a message to the militia captain and the wizard that we're willing to look into their little monster problem."
He snatches up his mug and claps the table in agreement with Ugnoth. "Aye! Let's hear it." the knight bellows, excitement in his voice. "Is it orcs from Belkzen? A clan of ogres? The Owlbear of Fangwood?"
Cygar eyes widen and he wears a look of shock at Ugnoth's poignant reply. His eyes bulge even further as he contemplates Sad's offer and apparent willingness to execute it (literally).
"I... err, well if we establish a lodge in Nirmathas, it will be different! Much different! I can't say I've worked much in the south with these others you speak of, but there are interesting delves all throughout the Fangwood that I'm sure we'd all find mutually interesting."
Cygar looks off to the distance as he collects his thoughts, their course briefly diverted by the Shoanti.
"And I'm not one of those venture captains - just a point of contact. I'll try to forget that note of sarcasm and focus on describing our various opp--"
The door to the inn swings open and the child that Alaric commissioned earlier seems to have returned.
He wears a sheepish look as he moves slowly up to the table and tries to avoid eye contact with Alaric.
"Mister, mister... I, uh. Captain Wisslo said that - and he made me repeat this a few times so that I'd 'get it right' - any adventurer worth bringing in on what's happening would do him the proper respect of coming to him rather than sending an errand boy to bring him to the inn."
The boy looks about ready to melt into the wooden floor as he continues.
"And, umm, Mister Holgath was already with the captain at the greathall just across the street there, sir..."
"And..."
The young lad hesitates, apparently worried that any future information from him may further displease the knight.
"They found the other two youths. I overheard that they weren't killed by no wolves nor bears, but rather something about the unliving."
The boy bites his lower lip.
"Mister, what's that even mean? The unliving?"
|
|
Ramli scowls.
"I fear the new lodge will have to wait, though maybe the other task will serve your purposes, Master Cygar. I believe we need to go find out what happened to these children and see what we can do about it."
His usually jovial face is grim as he gets up, swirling his cape back behind him and using his quarterstaff as a walking stick as he leaves the inn to find Wisslo and Holgath.
|
|
Alaric stands up, kneeling by the boy's side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Don't you worry child. No bag of bones is any match for a knight of the Empire. Run along now, there's a good lad..."
He sets his jaw as he turns to the others, a look of annoyance on his face. "Nirmathi upstart..." he snorts. "I say we head into those woods right now and don't give them the satisfaction. Cygar, where is this Crypt, you spoke of? We'll see how damned proud he is when he sees what the Pathfinders can do."
Cygar agrees that helping the townsfolk is a solid strategy to earning their support for future Pathfinders, and as the rest of you stand, excuses himself to return to the apparent solitude of his room.
After a short trek across the main market area, you all find yourselves standing in a semi-circle with Holgast, Captain Wisslo and Mayor Uptal.
Captain Wisslo is the first to speak.
"So, here's the adventurers everyone's already talking about!"
The aged captain's words are paced and you all immediately get the impression that he's a serious, regimented man.
The mayor clasps his hands together and his eyes beam as he takes in the sight of you all. He seems to be quite eager and pleased to have you here.
"Oh! Adventurers! How grand! This is just what we need captain to help us deal with whatever dangers lurk beyond the Fangwood. And your men can stay here and defend the city in case - ah, in case they decide to come here?"
Holgast seems to be so old and weather, it's a marvel he's still alive. He takes a puff from his pipe and narrows his eyes at Ramli and Damvorak.
"They do look a tad more seasoned that my apprentice Torius, may Pharasma watch over the poor boy's soul. It's a shame that I didn't get to employ my usual challenge on the lads and lasses this season, but what am I thinking? These poor folks probably don't even have full grasp of what's going on."
Wisslo holds up his hand to speak and as everyone looks to him, he relates recent events.
"Every four years or so, the town picks a handful of local youths to go on a sort of 'adventure' out to an old crypt where our founders are buried. It's about two days or so south of Kassen on the far side of Serpent Gorge."
"We make a big production out of it - it's essentially our harvest festival. A few regulars volunteer and head out to the crypt ahead of the youths and set sorts of 'traps' for them to overcome. Nothing too dangerous. Pits filled with pillows and the like. The real aim is for the kids to light a lantern at the 'Everflame' - it's a continuously burning flame in the crypt - and bring it back to the town. The folks here have a superstition that as long as we bring back a bit of the Everflame, we'll have a mild winter and a good year to follow."
Frowning, Wisslo ensures everyone is caught up.
"Well, seems something's happened this season. Holgast here was headed out to surprise the kids this morning with a bit of illusion magic or something. He found their camp still warm and signs of a struggle along with blood."
Holgast jumps in, "Aye. I usually make it a bit exciting for the kids. Conjure an illusion of a pair of orcs. One with an eyepatch, one with a broken tusk. Something to challenge the apprentice I've taken on. Not this year it seems, something else was unfortunately a challenge he wasn't equipped to overcome. So, as Wisslo says, I found two of the bodies looking like they were savaged by some sort of wild animal. Wolves if I had to place a bet on it. Not normally a problem for us as the rangers keep the population thinned."
"I gave it about 30 minutes of searching before I headed back to town to let Wisslo know. Within an hour or so, Olmira returned - she's one of the rangers - and said she had found the others - killed by something that clearly wasn't a wolf. She said he smelled the signs of the unliving about their wounds. They were further along, out by Gray Lake. She mentioned she was going to head back out and see what she could find."
Holgast pauses for a breath while giving others the opportunity to add questions of their own.
With a somber look, the three Kassen leaders guide you across the street into the town's lone temple. Within, you take note of various small shrines dedicated to a number of Golarion's deities - Erastil, Gozreh, Gorum, Shelyn and Torag.
A surprisingly youthful priest greets the three men and the five of you and introduces himself as Father Rantal Prasst before leading you to an interior chamber where the four bodies are draped with cloth.
Prasst pulls back the first and gestures to the savaged legs of a young boy.
"Iben was a good lad, always made it to weekly service. If you look here, here and here, you can clearly see the telltale sign of bites. My money's on wolves, big ones. If it was a bear, we'd have seen some other evidence likely of the beast's claws digging into the flesh, and we didn't see that. The good news is these bites aren't infected."
Holgast respectfully puts away his pipe and adds more thoughts.
"I'm certain if I hadn't arrived when I had, then likely both Iben and Torius would've been the beasts next meal."
Wisslo conveniently unfurls a small hand-drawn map of Kassen and the surrounding region.
"We found the first two at their camp here around the Broken Glade. The others were found on the western shores of Gray Lake here."
Lifting his finger, he proceeds to roll the map back up and offers it to you all.
"So, what do you lot think? Some wolves, some undead. We can offer some gold to retain your services this week as official members of the Kassen militia. I'll have my hands full making sure the town is safe and need experienced warriors to venture out and ensure this problem is nipped in the bud before it turns worse."
Mayor Uptal smiles broadly at your acceptance, but after a moment he wears a worried expression.
"Oh, I'm forgetting something, what was it..."
Glancing about the room, his worry turns to relief as he spots an old, beaten lantern on a side table.
"Ah yes! The lantern of course!"
Rushing over to it, he picks it up and brushes away some dried, splattered blood before presenting it to Ramli.
"My dear fellow. We have a few locals that would have been preparing the old crypt for the four deceased here. Would you be so kind as to check up on them if they are still there? They'd usually camp down by Kassen's crypt near the Everflame and be the first to congratulate the teens on their success. They departed with a big wagon of pillows, blankets, prizes and such about two days ago. Roldare, his sister Dimira and a couple volunteers whose names I can't place at the moment... feel free to use any of the items they brought along if they may help you."
Mayor Uptal gestures at the lantern.
"And - while you're there, perhaps you could light this lantern and bring it back? I think what we need to best remember the fallen is do our best to still hold a proper Everflame celebration in their honor."
|
|
"We're not murdering any hobos, Rock," Ramli informs the simple Oread, "but we'll be happy to take the lamp and do our best to light it. I'll admit, though, I'm more worried about the monsters than the flame at the moment."
"What say you all, my friends? I think we should head to Gray Lake first, see what this Olmira's found and make sure the lovely lass doesn't need any help."
Nothing like a good woodswoman. I'm sure she's as fair as any nymph or dryad out there.
|
|
Alaric coolly greets the captain as he swaggers into the square, setting his jaw in silence throughout the exchange. At the mention of the slaughtered youths though he speaks. "The lad I spoke with... Sharp boy. Spirited. He's been raised in good hands." Alaric says, somberly. "I'm sorry about your boys. The gods will be kind to them."
Turning on his heel, Alaric makes for the inn once more. "Sad! How would you like to squire for me? Help me strap into my armour and you're welcome to the last of the river-drake jerky."
|
|
"Sad! How would you like to squire for me? Help me strap into my armour and you're welcome to the last of the river-drake jerky."
Sad looks at Sir Alaric and smiles glumly, indicating a willingness to help.
"Yes, Sad be good in choir. Sad has nice singing voice," Sad goes to help Sir Alaric with his armor, unsure how it will help with the singing.
When finished, he begins to clear his throat while holding out his hand for the remaining drake jerky.
With their agreement secure, the five Pathfinders make final preparation before beginning their trek southward into the Fangwood. The townsfolks of Kassen are only too eager to provide enough foodstuffs and provisions for the next week, despite it only being a two-day trip to the crypt.
Holgast joins the party for the first two hours or so until the narrow path winds through the raking claws of the trees, now bereft of their leaves. Here, a fallen tree blocks the path and Holgast leads you over to where you all can spot the tracks of several boots which the wizard believes belonged to the now deceased youths of Kassen.
"Here's where I was going to play a trick on my apprentice, but sadly when I arrived it was already too late."
With an arcane gesture, Holgast conjures a pair of orcs that appear off the trail menacing with a greataxe and a falchion.
"It was really a test for the boy, to see how well he payed attention."
With another gesture, the orcs grown and snarl and advance, but with each footstep forward they begin fade back into nothingness.
Holgast continues to lead you all back along a side trail until you spot a scene where the boot prints of the locals mingle with tracks of wild beasts on the blood-stained ground.
"And here's where I found the first two."
Glancing up at the sky, the old wizard frowns.
"I've probably just enough time to make it back to town before nightfall. If the five of you continue on that trail there to the south, you'll make a spot just on the north shore of Gray Lake as night falls. I believe that's where Olmira found the others."
With a final puff from his pipe, the old wizard smiles and turns and departs back to the north.
After exploring the glade, you all feel convinced that the wild beasts assailing the youths were likely no more than starving, feral wolves. After tightening your backs and pausing for a snack, you resume following the trail southward.
As the sun sets in the west, a cold wind begins to rattle through the leafless forest and there has been no civilization in sight for many hours. The night sky is unfortunately cloudy, which means the moon above provides little light for searching for more signs of the travelers before you.
|
|
"A sad place to die," Ramli mutters as he looks around. Casting a quick cantrip, a few balls of light being swirling lazily around, shedding light enough to see by.
"What about here? Looks like a good spot for a campsite," he says, pointing to a patch of three-leafed vines, the green tinged with a hint of red.
|
|
Sad runs over to stop Ramli from camping where he wants to camp.
"No Rumknee!!! Not eat leaves of 3! They are used for spice stews, but not good for sleeping!"
"Yeah, Sad help find place to sleep. Wanted to find murder hobo wolves to eat; maybe tomorrow," Sad grumbles, still sad that he was never asked to sing in the choir.
Survival to camp
|
|
Damvorack walks along the path, observing the signs of the boys, slaughtered by hungry wolves.
Sad way to die. as he thinks of his own near death experiences.
He aids the others in preparing the makeshift camp.
vs DC 10 to aid
He lends his light spell here and there to help brighten the proceedings. He also has 60' darkvision to see where his light doesn't shine.
"I'll take third watch, Ramli you take first. That way we have someone at each watch who can create light of some sort."
- - -
In the morning he prays fervently to Nethys for the power to overcome their enemies this day. He munches some of his food as he prepares to face the day.