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To all players:
You have found yourselves up in the region of Lastwall, and around the town of Vigil, where you have all been summoned to meet with the Lord of Vigil, some by the promise of gold and some, freedom. When you meet him, some of you are surprised to learn he is a dwarf, as dwarves are uncommon in this part of Golarion.
Ibram
Leesa
He says to all of you:
"Word has come down from sources in the area that there has been several unusual deaths and reports of strange undead over the last few weeks. One of my other smaller squads lead by a paladin of Iomedae entered the area 2 weeks ago they were to have reported back about this area two days ago via a sending. As yet I have heard nothing. I am sending you guys into find out what happened to them and to locate Ashlyn, the paladin I mentioned before. Her or her corpse as may be the case The last sending I got a week ago mentioned that they had a lead and that they were traveling in this region to someplace called Barovia. I looked into our libraries at the War College and there was only vague references to a minor noble family called the Von Zarovich, it didn't mention whether they were vassals of the Whispering Tyrant, however there seems to be reports of evil magics and the like tied to this family. Be cautious and wary. And may the strength of the Brotherhood that stands the Lastwall be with you."
He provides a charcoal drawing of Ashlyn for you to keep, in order to recognize her or her body.
"I will provide each of you 1,000 gp for the safe return of her or her body, also if you can get to the bottom of what is happening there.
Any questions?"
Knowing a mission was on tap, Kaztor had taken the previous evening to polish his armor into gleaming perfection. It would be awhile before he had the luxury to do this task again.
He woke up, grabbed his gear and prepared to meet the Captain. After a simple breakfast of dried meat and bread, he took a few quiet moments to prepare.
The dwarf pulled on his silver holy symbol of Torag and made sure it was displayed prominently. As compared to the shine of his armor and his symbol, his long red beard was quite a contrast.
After arriving at the designated site, he nodded a greeting to the Captain and listened carefully to the mission. Von Zarovich, he thought to himself...that name was vaguely familiar.
Know. History
Know. Nobility
Know. Religion
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Katzor
They passed through rows upon rows of steel doors, twisting corridors and deep staircases that were so completely alike that the courier lost track of where he was. And then they stopped in front of one of the doors marked only by the single guard standing watch right next to it. Upon reading the letter, the guard nodded grimly and set about opening the door's many and complex locks.
...
Great metal bars shifted agonizingly slowly, as old but sturdy locks were one by one released. Light streamed in from a growing crack, and glassy eyes blinked, unused to the light after having been in darkness for so many days.
But there was a faint smile playing on his lips, as if he already knew what was coming.
Ibram dressed well for the occasion, trimming his overgrown beard and hair down to something more managable. His old dress uniform, rings and sigils that once spoke of his status, proudly displayed. No armor or weapon in sight, he refused the shoddy standard issues offered to him in haste. He sent for his own armor, stolen away by his loyal soldiers on the eve of his..arrest.
He remained standing during the course of the briefing, so still that when he did finally move, every eye was on him.
"Keep your money." Ibram stated plainly. "Freedom is enough for me."
Kaztor watched the large human refuse a seat during the briefing. He had heard the rumors--everyone had heard--about the crimes Ibram had been accused of in the past.
The warrior was clearly skilled in battle, but Kaztor resolved to keep an eye on his behavior, and ensure nothing untoward happened. Torture wouldn't be tolerated on this mission.
Leesa shudders. She remembers what happened on that dreadful night all those years ago. "Keep your money. If we can find her, hopefully unharmed, brining her back to family is that least I can do. Having to grow up without family and all alone is no life to have to bear with."
Knowledge (Local) check:
(to see if she can recall anything important)
Knowledge (Geography) check:
(to see if she can think of where a good hiding place for a frightened young girl to be)
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Leesa shudders. She remembers what happened on that dreadful night all those years ago. "Keep your money. If we can find her, hopefully unharmed, brining her back to family is that least I can do. Having to grow up without family and all alone is no life to have to bear with."
Knowledge (Local) check: 1d20+10
(to see if she can recall anything important)Knowledge (Geography) check: 1d20+7
(to see if she can think of where a good hiding place for a frightened young girl to be)
Captain Alfrik looks at you with an odd look on his face. "Well I certainly hope you will return Ashlyn to us, but as far as we know, the Lightbringers is her family. Although we have had reports of missing villagers, we would appreciate it if you could locate them as well." You realize the Lightbringers is a special force of undead hunters, that are stationed here to combat the undead menaces from the Whispering Tyrant's domain.
"A thousand gold? Zirul can help" he says simply, as he nods to the Lord.
Kaz couldn't help but stare at the one introduced as Zirul. He had heard of those who were descended of powerful creatures, and it was very obvious to the cleric of Zirul's descent--the intermingled red scales that were too prevalent to hide meant red dragon. Guess he wants to add to his hoard, the dwarf thought.
A war criminal and a relative of a red wyrm, he thought to himself...just what kind of group was this anyway. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and began listening to the Captain again.
"So, go to Barovia, find the girl. Then what? What if she's dead?" Zirul says with a curl in the corner of his lip, revealing, only for a moment, an inadvertent smile.
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Captain Alfrik looks at Zirul with a grim look on his face. "At this point, I truly believe she is dead. However I cannot answer for sure if she is or not. Divinations cast on this matter are...unclear."
His gaze turns more heated and his words come out like sparks on a hot forge. "That is why I am paying you handsomely for this task, which includes the recovery of her body, intact if at all possible."
His gaze meets each of you in return, and then he returns back to the group.
"Any other questions?"
Ibram's brow wrinkles with guarded distaste at the sight of the assembled group, civilians and mercenaries the lot of them. This was a far cry from the disciplined battalions he once commanded. And the mission itself reeks of suspicion.
"Why send us?" He voices out. "Why not send trained scouts or better yet, another paladin? I am sure the paladin orders would not hesitate to save one of their own, if they know."
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Alfrik stares at Ibram for a few seconds before answering him in a quiet voice, "Are these the same questions you asked of those who found themselves in your tender care?"
Turning away from Ibram, he addresses the rest of the assembled group, "To answer your comrade's question, you are all considered well trained, and capable folks, each with their own talents, and also quite frankly, expendable. Our other members of the order are scattered in patrols, and cannot reach here in time to rescue Ashlyn, on the small chance she is alive."
After finishing that speech, an aid comes to him and whispers something in his ear. Alfrik listens for a moment, and then says to you "Ahh good, your 'guide' has arrived. This is a member of the Pathfinder Society, or so he claims."
You all turn to see a gnome walk in. He has reddish white hair, and bronze skin an unusual combination for a gnome. He nods at the captain, and turns his eyes towards each of you in turn, studying you. Alfrik speaks, "This is Nish Al'blen, he has been selected to guide you and assist you in anyway you need. He will also answer whatever questions you have."
Alfrik turns to leave, and says,"You each have mounts provided to you along with a weeks supplies. They will be ready and waiting for you in the morning. With that, I bid all of you good luck and farewell."
Lees turns to others,
Leesa heads back to her temporary residence, eats a luxurious meal downs it with the finest brandy and calls it a night.
Alfrik stares at Ibram for a few seconds before answering him in a quiet voice, "Are these the same questions you asked of those who found themselves in your tender care?"
"Normally I wouldn't have to ask, Lord Alfrik." Ibram smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
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Alfrik walks over to you after finishing talking to the rest of the group and replies in a harsh whisper, glaring at you the whole time, "I give you another chance to redeem yourself, and you throw it back in my face! Keep in mind you would be talking with those you 'questioned', explaining your actions to their spirits if it weren't for me."
He turns and stalks away, just before leaving, he turns back to you and says, "May Torag have mercy on your soul."
Ibram decides not to provoke the Lord of Vigil further, though a shade of a smirk forms on his lips at Alfrik's parting words.
"Until tomorrow then." He tells the others, before heading out.
Hey guys.
I'm sorry but my internet connection is broken, so i can't post from home, and i only have limited options from work.
I just wanted to let you know that i might be out for some days, but i'm still with you.
Kaz approaches the gnome who has been tasked with leading the group. "How did you draw this mission, friend? Lose a bet?"
The gmone turns to the burly dwarf, and smiles. "Nope, I volunteered for this mission. To be honest with you, I think Lord Alfrick was just looking for any excuse to get rid of me."
"Sleep, yes.. good idea. Meet in the morning for breakfast? Maybe we talk then." He says simply, nodding to his new companions before leaving.
The gmone turns to the burly dwarf, and smiles. "Nope, I volunteered for this mission. To be honest with you, I think Lord Alfrick was just looking for any excuse to get rid of me."
"Looks like the test of the group might fall into that category as well," the dwarf replies, looking at the rag tag group assembled. "Well, at least they look like they've good strong sword arms."
Nish replies good naturedly to the dwarf, "Hey don't mind that Alfrik guy, he definitely has a pick shoved up his a**, he is really concerned about that paladin lady. We should get some rest, we have a weeks journey to get to the village"
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The next day dawns bright with a sunny sky, although it is chilly, the winds have died down, and it is very pleasant.
All of you ride out of Vigil, led by the diminutive gnome Pathfinder and you enjoy the pleasant weather, if not each other’s company. The journey is uneventful, although the closer you get to Barovia, each of you gradually gets a sense of…unease…even Leesa, who has traveled this road before has never run across this feeling before.
Despite these strange feelings, you are not molested by any monsters. Your stays in the various villages and campsites along the road are likewise uneventful.
Finally, you see the Weary Horse Inn, which is the last stop along the road leading to Barovia, which is only another days travel away. Night is falling so all of you prepare to stop for the evening….
Dismounting from his steed, Kaz looks around at the group. "Last stop before Barovia. Better have a good time tonight, because it seems the mission really starts tomorrow."
Perception check as he enters the area of the inn.
Knowledge History check on the Inn.
Ibram looked around for any observers before knocking. It was an old house, barely a shack near the slums of Vigil. The door opened a crack, and a bloodshot eye and part of a crooked mouth looked at him for a moment. The door was closed, locks were heard opened, and the door was opened just wide enough for Ibram to step through.
"It's true then?" The man asked, when Ibram was inside.
"Freedom with a price." Ibram replies.
"None of us thought he had enough strings to pull to get you out."
"And apparently he did, even if it was to send me on this mission. Which is far better than what the rest of you could do. Though I have little time for small talk. I hear you have my gear."
"Yes, yes." The man answers hurriedly. "Stole it away when we heard of your arrest, you're welcome." He pushes the bed to the other side of the wall and throws back a few rags hiding an almost unnoticeable trap door beneath. He pulls it open, and drags two handed a large falchion that he barely manages to lift.
"A few of the guys wanted to hold on to it while you were gone. None of them could wield it like you though. The rest is in there, along with a few hundred gold pieces we managed to collect."
"How many remain loyal?"
"Most."
"Good. Once this is over, be ready."
"Of course sir."
Ibram looks at the inn and frowns. The entire journey had been perfectly uneventful, but he felt the annoying itch of anticipation the entire time. He felt something amiss, that same feeling he had about the mission magnified tenfold. The Pathfinder saying this was the last inn before Barovia did not help matters at all.
No matter. It should be over soon enough.
"I wonder how the food is. Been a disappointing day. Very uneventful. Let's hope tomorrow brings more excitement."
"Simple way to answer that...let's go see what's on tonight's menu," Kaz replies to the group, knowing his meals for the next few nights would probably consist of nothing but cold rations.
"You eat. I'll ask around about our little paladin, and these Von Zavorich nobles. Nicely of course." He adds with a smirk.
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With the dying of daylight, a fog creeps across the land, clutching everything in its clammy grasp. Inside the Weary Horse Inn, though, the fire is warm enough, and if the few patrons are sullen and stare at you a little boldly, at least the food and drink are good.
For an inn’s common room, it’s quiet. It holds no more than a handful of customers. They keep their voices low, and even the clink of their mugs seems subdued as the fog gathers outside. When the door swings open, every head turns to see who has arrived.
This new arrival loudly stamps the mud off his boots in the doorway, then strides confidently over, throwing a letter down on the table in front of you.
”The village of Barovia is in need of heroes,” he says in a thick accent. ”You’ll do as well as any.” Without another word, he turns to leave.
"Hold on, stranger. Want to talk with us about this letter before leaving?" the dwarf asked, before attempting to open the missive.
First, Zirul is noting the reactions of the patrons of his obvious lineage, as he's walking in. Then, he proceeds to order something to eat along with some wine if they have any, ale if they don't.
To the stranger he says, "Why don't you stay a bit, have a meal, converse?"
Zirul will grab the letter and read it.
Ibram looks up long enough to see the stranger drop the letter on the table before returning his attentions to the bartender. The others can deal with whatever that was for now.
"Are you sure you haven't seen this woman?" Ibram insisted, showing the charcoal drawing of the paladin to the man. If this goes any longer, he might have to get forceful. Or try some of the other people in the bar.
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Zirul opens the letter, which he notices is sealed with wax, and affixed with a seal of Barovia.
The text is in Common, although in an archaic dialect. Its contents read as follows:
Barovia. The worms creep beneath our floors and our streets, they feast on the flesh of our dead. High in the castle, the once lord is no longer, the new lord is not yet, without form, void. All is void and vanity.
Ireena, Ireena, Ireena! Long have I kept you at my side, long will I keep you close to my heart! Save my Ireena!
I am the Burgomaster. The Master! Koylan am I! Soon the worms will feast on me.
Come! Do not tarry!'
"This letter gives me the creeps. But they seem to need help immediately. That being said, who's up for a night ride?" Zirul smiles as he asks.
Looking at the strange note, Kaztor calls Ibram over to the remainder of the group. "Check this strange message from a Koylen. Do you think you could ask your friend about him or this Ireena?" nodding his head toward the bartender he had seen Ibram conversing with earlier.
Ibram snatches the note from the dwarf's hands and took a once over look at it. "I do hope you aren't considering acting on this. We have a mission of our own, in case you have forgotten." He states blandly.
Moving back towards the bartender, he asks once again. "The man that came in. This Ireena. Know anything about them?"