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"I've not been there myself, but they say it's a barren and harsh land, populated by barbaric tribes and scavengers of every sort. Something fell from the sky a long time ago, technology far beyond the sort we have here. Now the Technic League rules the place, technomancers monopolizing the power for themselves, from what I hear."
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'Technical what? Dancer with power, is that what he said?' Realizing that he had some shopping to do before they left ting finishes his stein of plumb wine, tipping his conical helmet, "I's will see's you's blokes in tha mornin' I's got's a bow ordered, 'at I should be a fetchin' wroight."
Ting leaves the drinking establishment and heads to the bowers shop where he had been speaking to the elven proprietor, just that morning. Purchasing the long bow and several durable arrows he then heads to the temple to purchase potions for curing. Once he is done he heads back to the pathfinders lodge to spend the night.
At 11:00 AM, you rendevouz with the lad at the stables.
As Absalom is on an island, you 1st take a boat to the mainland.
Thereafter, a coach stands ready, and the coach driver puts any of your luggage, should you choose so, on the top, before closing the door and clacking the reigns.
It takes you several days before you arrive at Scrapwall.
Tales have it, that Scrapwall is a remnant of a large craft crashing, scattering its remains 3 miles wide.
Many fortune seekers, scavengers and adventurers come and go.
Your coach stops at a small settlement, consisting of a chapel, several dwellings, something possibly a simple merchant post, and a small building what must be passing for an inn.
You see the main residents here are ratfolk, along with a few rugged looking humans.
The lad leads you to the chapel.
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'Odd place.' Lulling his tongue in a Tengu smile, ting turns to Drexel, "You's bloody well forgot's ta warn's us 'at it's homes ta ratty-loike folks, wroight."
He nods towards the chapel, "Well we's goin' in er what?" Looking around carefully and reaching in his pocket feeling the vial of gaseous form before he step in, he breaths a sigh and opens the door, looking inside.
The hand holds for the chapel doors are gear shaped, and brass in color.
The lad pulls them open.
"Follow me."
What you see inside is beyond your expectations.
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The tumultuous sound of gears grinding upon metal issues forth from a constantly chuming, grinding wall of gears. Only two large gears remain motionless.
There is an altar up ahead, decorated with gears, metal and the symbol of a Bronze feminine mask with a forehead rune in the shape of a gear.
Brigh, patron goddess of intricate craft and invention, her worshipers include inventors, but also include craftsmen such as clockmakers or toymakers.
It is as if you were standing within a giant hour piece.
In the distance, an elven woman sits on a bench, reading a book.
Tucked away in several niches, stand humanoid figures, made of brass and metal.
Lad: "Mistress Lanalei, i have returned with the agents of the society organization."
She looks up, and closes the book before standing up.
"Would you close up please, she asks of the lad, who nods and motions you to follow her.
She gestures you to have a seat.
"Glad you could come. I am Dinvaya Lanalei. I take it you had a safe travel?"
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Drexel is in awe, and spends several moments admiring the complicated clockworks, and noticing the brass figurines.
A temple of Brigh, I take it...
He then shakes his head, and approaches the elf, bowing slightly.
"Well met, I am Drexel Santangelo. Our journey was without incident, thank you."
He takes a seat.
"So, Ms. Lanalei, what can the Pathfinder Society do for you?"
"Well, mister Santangelo, i reckon from your arrival, you know of the basics. But i'm glad to be able to convey it in more detail."
Everyone seated or standing, she sits down as well.
"Scrapwall is a long stretching area. Given the sheer size, it can be divided in zones, as several scavenger gangs hold turf in various sections of Scrapwall, such as the Steel Hawks and The Smilers."
"Small settlements like this one, do trade with some of the Kellid tribes, and on occasion, Scrapwall's other groups. And while some of those are on occassion in conflict over territory, they hold nothing on the biggest player in Scrapwall."
She pauses momentarily.
"The biggest one, The Lords of Rust, are the biggest and most ruthless gang Scrapwall has ever seen. Moderately organized, they have raided trade caravans as of late, and making territory grabs. Now, this is still some distance from our settlement, but the raids are cutting down the arrival of regular customers. I'm talking food supplies, raw materials, weapons to replace the ones lost in conflict."
"I am aware your organization has been trying to secure access for studies, and that some of the groups who occupy those specific locations, have been less than open to them. Us more neutral settlements are on more peaceful terms with the groups than they are with each other. As such, i offer to promote your reputation with the groups we have contact with, in return for bringing down The Lords of Rust. Respect and reputation are two very important things here in Scrapwall."
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Following the boy with the interesting eye in the temple, Ting looks around his attention drawn to anything shiny. As they meet the elvish lady, he nods politely, standing on one leg as the mammals talk.
Shifting feet standing on the other leg, ting reaches under his conical helmet and scratches his head, asking, "Does you's want's us ta bloody well eliminates 'es Rusty fella's er just embarrass 'em? You know's, brings 'em down a bloody peg er two."
He shrugs a shoulder, his other claw still tucked in his pouch, wrapped around the vial of 'gaseous form.' "Not 'at I's mind's either ways, wroight?"
"I'm strongly inclined to say that force is the only language they will understand. From what i have heard, a merchant wanted to cut a deal, in exchange for them not ransacking his home.
They thrashed him and his shop, taking off with all supplies he had at that time. Those not hidden underground, at least."
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"Is there any particular threat they like to employ, that I might better prepare myself for it? I like to have a bit more of a strategy than 'hit it with your sword until it falls down,' though there is no denying the efficacy thus far of that particular stratagem." Carr already doesn't like these people, and is becoming more and more prepared to injure them.
"They employ brute force, mostly. Intimidation, humiliation and....one more infamous, pitting prisoners in arena matches. Their ranks are said to consist of mostly orcs, half-orcs and ratkin. The more vicious kind of them, the ones you see out here are survivors, not fighters."
"Forbid no. Still, in a way you can compare it as such.
There is a handful of leaders, key figures more, if you wish. I heard mention of an orcish woman of martial prowess, a two headed woman the size of a dire bear, and a red skinned "female thing".
They also follow an entity called Hellion. I'm not familiar with that one, but given they have a priestess in their ranks, it must be one of some form of divinity, as the priestess was said able calling upon divine energies."
"That said, said priestess has not been seen for a while now, so perhaps that is a good omen."
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"I've yet to meet a female thing which wasn't instantly swooning in my presence, so I'm sure this will be remarkably easy!" Carr in a revisionist history states, as there have been several times that this wasn't the case. "No matter, nothing we can't handle. When do we strike?"
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Shifting from one foot back to the other, Ting looks from Carr to their host, and leaning over to his friend nods toward the elvish female. "You's mammals is tough ta tell's sometimes, but ain't she's a female? Is 'at what you's calls swoonin'? Cause it mean's sometin, differnt where's I's is from, wroight."
turning back to thier host, "Tha zone they's is in, how far's is it an' what's tha easiest way's ta get's 'air? tha sooner we's is finished tha sooner we's is back, wroignt"
He then nods towards the boy with the fancy eye and asks, "How's do's I get someone's ta do's 'at wit me beak? It ain't been wroight since I's was a bator back's in Oppara an' got whacked by's a badger"
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Carr chuckles. "Friend Ting, I have not turned on my charms! It would hardly do to have our contact enamored with me, it would preclude my participation in the mission!" He grins. "And besides, she must maintain her professional composure, it wouldn't do to betray her obvious feelings for me in such a public setting." Never one to let the facts impede his self-image was Carr.
She holds up her palm in a vertical manner.
"Worry not, i am not interested in children."
Tha zone they's is in, how far's is it an' what's tha easiest way's ta get's 'air? tha sooner we's is finished tha sooner we's is back, wroignt"
"It is about 2,5 miles north from here. You'd get through The Smilers' territory, and then a surprisingly uninhabited, barren part. It's said there is a wreckage somewhere in that part, yet unexplored. The groups have been too busy in their own turf, it's surprising it's not yet picked clean. That, or the Lords of Rust's roving scavengers hunting for food keep them cautiously away.
Who knows, you might get lucky if you find it indeed unsearched."
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"A child? My lady, you wound me! I am timeless and immortal, and in fact an angel. Though for you, I could be aught you wished." He winks. "That is for another time, however, as for now we have people to slay, or subdue, or seduce, or... I suppose I could come up with other actions beginning with S, but time waits for no man or angel. Yet."
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Mylvwara appears in a blink of arcane energy, she has a book open in her hands and barely looks up as she arrives, "Hello, hello, sorry I'm late. Don't worry, I've been following with a scrying pool. I had to finish an inventory which I had promised to an older wizard who helped me add to my spellbook. He offered to whisk me here in return for the delay."
She pauses for a second and takes in the room, "Oh, my..."
Then her eyes settle on the elf, "መልካም, ብሬጅ ካህን."
"Have you any maps of the region, we will need to know the lay of the land?"
She nods in kind to Mylvwara's greeting.
"Greetings, young lady."
"No physical ones, i don't go out much. One of the junk dealers outside will most likely have a better one."
She gets up to take a piece of paper and makes a rough sketch.
"From the latest i've heard, it's something along these lines..."
The lower region of Scrapwall is where she marks the current settlement to be, with a few loose stripes to mark an order of groups' territory, as well as two small [Neutral] dots, indicating similar dwellings to current one.
A small part is set aside for the unoccupied zone she mentioned before.
The upper region of Scrapwall is marked as Lords of Rust territory.
"On foot, as far as i know. There are no horses in Scrapwall, nor flying animals large enough to be used as mounts. Would there be such animals, i'd fear their raids would be more frequent."
"I don't know their numbers, but they are said to be sufficiently enough to do more than one raid at the same time.
I have no idea how they fare with food, but i'd speculate it probably comes from hunting in the unoccupied zone or raiding nearby lands."
She calls for the lad.
"What was the rumor on the last conflict?"
Lad: "They arrived in a large group, with one or two speaking to the duped individuals. Though the ratfolk who saw it mentioned it was less talking and more intimidation, preceeding the ransacking."
She shakes her head.
"No trading partners were ever seen."
The lad had exited the chapel shortly, and now returns.
"Mistress, word has come in, that another supply wagon has been raided. "
She nods at him, then looks back at you.
"Time is of the essence."
An idea seems to come to her.
"You know, you might even be able to infiltrate their base of operations. Their arena is not exclusively for prisoners to fight. It's said they also invite any who catch their attention, those people of combat reputation that is, to prove it in the arena, and become part of their gang."
Lad: "That may work. I could work on spreading a rumor a band of traveling daredevils is passing through Scrapwall, beating the toughest members of the Steel Hawks. It would prevent them from outright attacking you on sight."
She nods.
"Go ahead with it.", and the lad heads out.
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After your talk with Dinvaya Lanalei, you leave the chapel with the rough map, and are on your way north.
While passing, you obviously can't help but notice the huge sized metal debris, that the crashed craft left in and on the ground.
You come across a small number of dwellings, both small and a large one.
A duo of Ratfolk and a rugged looking human look from their metal barricade as you move by. An emblem of a large grinning face on its door.
Most likely The Smilers' main base, going by what you were told...and the map's indication too.
#1 "Say, those fit the description of the ones who're supposed to have given a beatdown on the Steel Hawks.
#2 [b]"Hehe, they do. Serves the Steel Hawks just fine, arrogant pricks."
(both laugh)
Eventually, as you have left rough civilization behind, you arrive at an area that looks utterly deserted. Barren ground is decorated by an occasional body and small metal debris. 10 minutes further, the canyon's air turns misty, up to where you can't quite see beyond 5ft. Carefully going ahead, you come upon a small ravine, which is scaled within your capabilities.
What you find there, is intriguing to say the least. A craft, partially covered in rubble. It is somewhat tilted downwards from aft to stern from the crash. You estimate it to be 100ft wide and about the same in length, probably 12 to 15ft high, rubble excluded.
A doorway on its right side stands ajar with no light coming from within. The ceiling seems to be 8 feet high.
For the immediate 10x10 ft corridor:
The air is unnaturally cold in this empty atrium. Metal doorways yawn to the north and south, and the slanted floor is strewn with strange bits of rubble and twisted lengths of metal.
The ceiling is badly damaged here, its gray metal shell shattered in numerous places, exposing coils of rusty, mold-covered cables and wires.
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Ting reaches under his conical helmet and scratches his head, "Tha arena part sounds loike a bloody good idea wroight."
Once the conversation was over, ting peeks over the map holders shoulder, nodding, "So's 'at's tha way's we's is going wroight." and heads off in the general direction. Keeping a quick pace he's to busy keeping any eye out for trouble to notice what the 'people' nearby are whispering.
"Well you's don't eye-ball's 'at every day do ya's?" Amazed by the sight of the craft, noticing the partially open door leading to a dark abyss, ting takes his ioun torch out of his pouch and starts it spinning about his helmet, then drawing his bastard sword, he carefully approaches the door checking for traps or other tell-tale signs. He then steps into the space ship.
Shivering enough that it shakes his tail feathers, "You's would tink 'is big of an organization could's afford heat." stepping into the small room, he again inspects the doors looking for traps and such.
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Carr casts a spell of light and places the charge on his belt buckle, that he might be able to see forward without it getting particularly in his eyes, also that he might block it with his shield if need be. "The cold does not bother me so, but there is an eerie quality to this chill. Perhaps the lady Brallenera and I should be in front?"
Drexel and Ting take a look for traps,
a delayed hazard goes off, impaling the party for 20d20, everyone dies but nothing seems to be off here.
As Ting nods for safe passage, Brallenera and Carr take the lead into the wreckage. Peering around the corner, the hallway narrows into a 5ft wide corridor, with 3 doors in sight.
The ones to the left and the right are open, and a very faint stream of light carries through a seam of the door ahead. From the left, a faint sound of metal scraping upon metal is heard.
You haven't heard of Hellion before.
Though, if Hellion provides divine spells to their followers, perhaps he/she/it could be a powerful outsider.
The existence of Empyreal Lords and powerful fiends or devils, are an example of the latter.