Starting thread for the campaign!
The reputable merchant and ally of the Society Aya Allahe 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."
"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 Praetor Sylien—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.”
Hakime nods and smiles warmly at Allahe. "Of course, Ma'am, I'd be happy to go, well, as one of many, who will represent you to the praetor in this matter. I hope we may be able to find Sharrowsmith and make sure he returns home safely."
Shasta picks up a piece of paper from the pile and peruses it casually before putting it back down. "What sort of stuff did this guy usually go after? Relics? Lost Cities? Erotic art?"
Allahe smiles. "I am not aware of any erotic art, but I might be mistaken of course. Nieford was mostly interested in the things your society seems to value: relics, items with power and things lost to antiquity."
Shasta quickly tries to recall information about the region, but comes up blank. "Before we go, you guys sell vermin repellant and maybe a potion of remove disease?" Shasta slaps yet another bug on her neck. "This jungle's gonna get on my nerves," she mutters.
"We don't but you can likely find someone in town who does.", answers Allahe.
Wyeth eyes Shasta with something approaching surprise. Benson didn't mention she was the delicate flower sort., he ponders
"Vermin repellent won't work on the apes, Miss Lux. Based on my experience," he says, pausing to cut a glance at certain others, "they're a wee bit more troublesome than bitey-bugs."
Turning to the merchant he asks, "If this praetor's as persnickety as you imply, is he likely to even talk with us?"
At Wyeth's remark, Shasta replies, "I'm not so sure of that. If I wore the smelly stuff into a bar, I'll bet a lot of the apes there would leave me alone. I'm more worried about the creepy crawlies supposed to infest these jungles: scorpions, spiders, centipedes, biting ants, bats, the like. Apes, whether in the jungle or a bar, I can handle with my sword or my whip, not to mention some spells. Plus music has charms to sooth the savage beast, doncha know?"
To Allahe, she asks for a description of Harrowsmith, so the party will recognize him if they find find him, asking about if the Venture Captain owned a wayfinder or if there were any other distinguishing features. She also asks if the Praetor has a grudge against the Society.
Allahe answers both as best she can. To Wyeth, she comments, "I know Praetor Sylien only by reputation. The grandson of an old elven explorer, he’s served the garrison for decades, though I hear he’s mostly retired now. My business associates say he is a fair and very pragmatic man, one who respects hard facts and truth. His being dismissive of my request sounds uncharacteristic. Therefore I believe he will talk with you if you turn up at the fort. I never heard that he has issues with any organization."
Turning to Shasta she continues "Sharrowsmith is slowly turning into old age, he is approximately 5 foot tall and of average human build. I believe his origins are Taldan, but we never discussed that. He has a wayfinder and always carries that around. In addition to that his sword is engraved with the Glyph of the Open Road.
Be wary when entering the Bandu hills, it’s a dangerous place. This is true of much of the Expanse, but the Bandu Hills have a dozen ways to kill before accounting for living creatures: heat, dehydration, landslides, poisonous plants, carnivorous plants, and so on.
Unfortunately, the place is sick with riches like diamonds, gold, and silver—an embarrassment of wealth that only attracts more dangerous occupants. I am surprised that Sharrowsmith didn’t settle down there, to be honest.”
At this point, the party plans for purchasing gear for the expedition: water, a wand of endure elements, perhaps some vermin repellent and potions of remove disease.
While Hakime, Wyeth, and Shasta plan, the remaining party members arrive...
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A well dressed Half-Orc steps into the meeting. He wears a set of noble clothes complete with jewelry. On his back is a great axe and in his hand is a staff carved to look like two snakes intertwined, one black the other white. I don't know why they sent the guy with the 100g suit to go stomping through the jungle, where are the Taldan opera mission, come on!" He looks around the room at his fellow Pathfinders, "Well I suppose it can't be helped, my name is Gob and my axe and spells are at your disposal."
@Gob The skills for additional information are Knowledge (Local), Knowledge (Geography) and Profession (Miner or Merchant).
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Wyeth studies the snappily-dressed orcish fellow. "Magic and an axe... an intriguing combination. Classy staff. Wyeth," he says, jerking his head back slightly to indicate himself.
To Zadim's comment he remarks, "Skills for traveling in the bush will be quite useful where we're going. Have you any knowledge of the Mwangi Expanse? My homelands border it, but I've never been there. Still, I've... 'met' some of the inhabitants. It wasn't pretty." A look of distaste briefly crosses his face.
His gaze roves over everyone. "Quite a change from the previous field teams. This will be... interesting."
He adds a muttered afterthought. "In a good way, I hope."
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Shasta stops fiddling and waves her bow in a welcome and gives him a smile. "I hope you are familiar with the dangerous plants and beasties of the bush. I'm a city girl and only know what I've heard in tales and songs."
Later she asks people to share what languages they know. She says she knows Varisian, Tien, Celestial, Vudrani, and Goblin.
If nobody speaks the predominant language of the natives of the region, she wonders if we should hire an interpreter.
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Wyeth shrugs. "Just the obvious ones," he says, momentarily pulling off his possum-skeleton helm to reveal subtly-pointed ears. "Elven and the common tongue, that's it for me."
"The only Mwangi I know is 'ali' which I think means 'edible' or 'meant to be eaten' -- something along those lines. And that," he says as he settles his helm back in place, "only because my folks used to spin tales of Mzali, which they said means 'devoured palace'... more or less."
"In short, if a bunch of natives start pointing at us and shouting 'ali,' I'll know to yell 'Run!'," he says with a chuckle. "That's the extent of my utility as a translator, unless we come across jungle elves."
"Welcome Zadim and Gob.", greets Allahe. "Now there is one more, another half-orc who is to arrive. Then you should be ready to make your preparations."
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Wyeth looks at the half-orc with new respect. "Impressive, sir. And you as well, Miss Lux."
Perhaps feeling a bit outclassed, Wyeth digs a whetstone out of his pack, settles onto a tabletop in the corner, and begins honing his dagger.
Gob did his homework before he arrived.
Common threats in the Bandu Hills include hostile tribes, ghouls, and groups of kobolds, goblins, and hobgoblins. The highest point of the area is Mount Nakyuk, famed for the veins of gold under it several centuries ago.
One particular monstrosity that is more prevalent in the area than others is the festrog, horrific flesh-eating undead that walk upright but run on all fours.
The Hills are still rich gold, silver, and gems despite the centuries of mining. Although prospectors arrive throughout the Inner Sea to seek their fortune, the local Mwangi tribes often retaliate violently.
The Deeptreasure organization is always on the lookout for independent miners to bully away from prospective claims. A representative in Fort Bandu also pay a bounty for information regarding unoccupied (or ill-defended) claims.
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Marduk had been quiet, observing the conversations.
All that talk of apes, he'd seen them in a museum and plenty of them on his last mission.
Too much monkey business to my taste. I reckon my mentor would say the same.
Aside from Marduk's cestus and whip, , a sword now hangs strapped across his back.
@ Wyeth;
"Well, for once us half-kin aren't the minority in a group, huhu."
After that was done, he walks up to the other half-orc and extends his hand.
"Greetings, i'm Marduk."
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Gob shakes Marduk's hand. "Good to see the usual embodiment of the half-orc race. I do say you are rather well spoken then most of more physical specimen. Gob shares what he knows about the area. "So it looks like we have a good chance of running into some undead and some hostile natives. I'm not to worried about the goblins and kobolds though."
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Wyeth chuckles softly over the rhythmic *shing* of steel against stone. "We mongrels will have to show these delicate purebreds" -- the briefest glance at Shasta -- "how it's done, eh, Marduk?"
Then he looks up at the newcomer half-kin with a wide grin. "Said purely in jest, Mister Gob. Marduk and I have worked several assignments together and, for better or worse, that informs our wit."
"Though not as intensely as when Saitama's about," he adds with a laugh. "And you know, that Benson was starting to pick up some bad habits as well," he adds with a grin at Marduk.
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"We mongrels will have to show these delicate purebreds" -- the briefest glance at Shasta -- "how it's done, eh, Marduk?"
*Modest smirk*
I do say you are rather well spoken then most of more physical specimen.
"It depends on the environment. I grew up at a temple in the Vudra peninsula. Decent humans were scarce, prejudice and all, save for the monks in the temple and of course there wa-"
Marduk snaps back to keeping his mouth shut, as he realizes he was wandering off for a second.
Seeing the sudden curling smile on Marduk's face, something or someone fond in his memory was about to be spoken of.
"And you know, that Benson was starting to pick up some bad habits as well,"
"True, sleeping on the job, for instance."
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Wyeth chuckles softly over the rhythmic *shing* of steel against stone. "We mongrels will have to show these delicate purebreds" -- the briefest glance at Shasta -- "how it's done, eh, Marduk?"
At Wyeth's 'delicate purebreds' remark, Shasta gives an ill-mannered snort of amusement. "My father was Tian and my mother Varisian, so in many human's eyes, I'm as much a half-breed as you all. Fortunately my mother was connected to the Sczarni family, which meant most kids were careful to bully me when no one was watching and then mostly harmless jabs at my slanted eyes or brown skin. Once I learned to cast spells, most of that stopped." This seems to evoke a memory and she giggles and goes back to her fiddling.
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Hello to all those who came late to the party. I am Hakime ... as for languages I speak only common and the speech of the abyss. I doubt the latter will be of much use in the jungle. However, I can detect undead when I concentrate on them, so that may come in handy if we might encounter such. I... and my trusty bow... are at your service."
"It seems you are all acquainted, I trust you have no more questions, then?", Allahe asks. If not, she wishes you Desna's blessing on your travels and departs, leaving you to gather your supplies.
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Shasta will get a mule (or whatever is a typical pack animal for the area that is not too expensive) so people can get extra waterskins and rations without becoming encumbered. She doesn't have handle animal skill (nor does anyone else, so far as I could tell), so if that would create problems getting the animal to move, she won't buy one, but I think usually it's not needed just to get an animal to move with the group.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The party, mule and all, head down the Vanji River on their journey to Fort Bandu. Afterwards, travel by canoe is required until the party finally reaches the lower Bandu Hills. Another half-day's journey finally takes you to Fort Bandu.
The fort is a small settlement surrounded by high stone walls. Within, dozens of mining companies have outposts of pavilion tents filed with supplies and those wishing to find work. The largest building is a garrison along the north end of the walls.
The atmosphere is tense; as you make your way through the settlement, whispers of troubles of late catch your ears although further details are beyond passive listening.
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Over days required for the trip to the fort, Shasta has taken the measure of each member of the group and feels she is by far the most persuasive and diplomatic of the team. She volunteers to speak for the group. Feeling that to be forewarned is to be forearmed is as true in negotiations as in battles, she stops at whatever passes for the local watering hole, buys some expensive brandy (or whatever is the finest they have to offer) and tries to talk up the proprietor to get info on the situation with Sharrowsmith and Praetor.
"Thank you for the brandy. I shall look forward to getting some more food for our venture into the bush. We're on the trail of a bloke name of Sharrowsmith. He was supposed to have been this way some time ago, but he's gone scarce and the garrison commander seems miffed about something, so we had to schlepp all the way from Nantambu just to find out more. Can you tell us anything about his last visit and what might be eating the commander?"
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Wyeth's gaze roves over the settlement and the numerous tents. "Not exactly what I expected when a 'fort' was mentioned," he comments to Marduk.
He elbow-nudges the monk and gestures in Shasta's direction as she heads out. "Well there's one benefit of having a delicate flower along," he allows. "Surely a very welcome sight around here, and more likely than us to get information flowing. I just hope we won't have to rescue her from some overly-insistent frontier type."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Shasta spies a sole vendor, an enterprising Ustalavian man, who seems to actually be running a business catering to those living at the Fort, offering simple home meals and beverages at his stall. "Velcome, velcome! Vhat can I get the pretty lady?" After asking for the beverage, he shakes his head. "All I vhat is jungle mead; hard enough to get good potatoes for stews to waste it on vodka and other liquors."
Accepting the drink , the man, Gustav Ingenwalt, seems friendlier than the others who seem to be sullen about any topic other than business. Upon Shasta asking about Sharrowsmith, he immediately spits on the ground. "Bah, that Sharrowsmith! He darn neah ruined things, causin' vis trouble. No good follows that man."
Seeing the angered Gustav, Shasta starts playing her violin, which at the very least catches him off guard, somewhat disrupting his rage thinking about Sharrowsmith. "Music to soothe the savage beast, 'eh?", he answers.
"You mean Praetor Sylien? You can find him at the garrison, trying to figure out vhat to do about the damned kobolds Sharrowsmith sent over here!", Gustav again spitting on the ground.
In a happier mood almost instantly, he reacts to the new customer. "Velcome! Vhat can I get you, traveler?"
"Yes, dem fargin' kobolds!", Gustav spitting on the ground again as he has to mention the missing Venture-Captain's name. "That bastage Sharrowsmith, he sent dem kobolds here and they've been raiding our caravans and attacking the mining camps."
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Shasta tries to remember some Ustalav melodies, but can only think of Varisian dances. She fiddles out a chipper melody before asking, "Pity that Sharrowmith sent the kobolds. We'll have to talk to the commander about that. What makes you think the kobolds were sent by Sharrowsmith?" As an afterthought, she spits.
"Beats me, the Praetor vould know more.", answers Gustav, spitting on the ground twice during Shasta's question.
The party heads to the garrison, looking to meet with the Praetor. A pair of guards, armed with scimitars and crossbows and bearing thick leather armor step in front of the party.
"Please state your business.", of them asks tersely.
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Sharrowsmith doesn't seem the sort to sic kobolds on this settlement. He was concerned to find some great relic. So if he has anything to do with the kobolds, I doubt it is as simple as these folks want to assume. It's nice to have a scapegoat, someone you can spit and cuss about, but more likely he just inadvertantly set something in motion, perhaps driving the kobolds out of a ruin they had called home and so they began to attack the human settlements, looking for new shelter or to get revenge. In any case, let's find out what Praetor thinks he knows and then investigate for ourselves.