Sir Dydimus' invitation was a little vague as to where to meet: “Start where it all began." A little prying, research, and luck lead you to The Pig’s Paunch, a run-down building with a faded sign of a large pig standing on its hind legs, arms folded above a corpulent belly. Inside, the air is thick with the scents of human sweat, stale tobacco, and leftover food. In the center of the room, surrounded by inebriates sleeping off their revelries, a familiar elven man stands next to a large round table.
“Welcome! Welcome, my students! Please, have a seat!” With that, Kreighton Shaine, the Pathfinder Society’s Master of Scrolls, sits down at the table before looking about the tavern with a sense of reverent wonder. Can you believe it? It all started here years ago—well, over four hundred of them at least. Under this very roof the Pathfinder Society was born. But today! Today you will begin your Confirmation! Master Farabellus, Master Zey, and I all agree you each have shown your worth and dedication to the Society, so there’s no better time to see if you can handle becoming full field operatives. I believe you all know Sir Dydimus,” he says as he motions for an dashing halfling man to approach. Atop his head he wears a large feathered cap and a glinting rapier is strapped to his side. Shaine continues, saying, “Dydimus here will be leading you on your Confirmation. He was one of my bravest pupils and will no doubt be an invaluable resource on your journey, for he discovered the caves you are about to explore during one of his own early explorations.”
Sir Dydimus gives the assembled party a sweeping bow before hopping up from the floor, to the a chair, to the top of the table. In his most dramatic voice he address the party, “Be warned, aspiring Pathfinders! Six months ago, while I was mapping cave entrances in the foothills of the Kortos Mounts, when I witnessed a lone gillman entering a concealed cave. This mysterious event happened again exactly one month later as my exploration stretched on. I was going to enter the caves myself but was summoned back to the City to complete a number of important missions for Venture Captain Ambros Valsin. The mystery of those caves haunts me to this day though. What horrible monstrosities dwell in them? what evil rituals do the Gillmen preform there? Why do they call them the Caves of Death!?!”
Master Shaine hops to his feet and give the Halfling a reprimanding look. [b]No one calls them that! You just made the name up to make it sound dangerous. the elf smiles at Dydimus and then turns back to the party, Initiates, for your Confirmation, you will travel to these caves to explore and document its many passages. Additionally, and most importantly, you are to learn what the gillmen are actually doing in there. Oh, and you need to come back alive as well. He adds the last part as he gives Dydimus a wink. With the briefing over Sir Dydimus jumps off the table and dashes out the door yelling something about needing more apple biscuits for the journey.
Kreighton Shaine, chuckles to himself as he watches the halfling leave. So do you have any questions?
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A tall, lean human male dressed in scale armor carries a finely-crafted polearm, his long black cloak trailing behind him. In fact, all his clothing is black. Oddly, chains drape his torso and arms, but do not seem to impede his movement.
He squints at Dydimus as if in bright sunlight despite the typical lighting of the room.
His eyes appear to mask a much older soul than his forty or so years might suggest.
He nods at his new companions, and seems to have caught the gist of the interplay between Master Shaine and Dydimus.
"These sound like caves most perilous. I am confident it will require every bit of wit and gallantry we can muster just to survive their horrors. Under your guidance, I am sure we will succeed," the man says to the halfling.
"I am Telos, by the way. Telos Phane."
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A curmudgeonly dwarf with a deep, gravelly voice steps forward.
"Well, I would be happy to go with ye. But I've got a couple of conditions. Foist, I can't abide by no dwarves. As long as we ain't got no dwarves in the expedition, everything should be OK. And second, there cain't be no dwarves! Praise Desna!"
"It's a damn shame you ain't no elf, Dydimus. Elves would make the best wilderness guides, seeing as how we has a affinity for all things natural-like. Even though you's a member of a lesser race, have you ever considered turning to Desna for salvation?"
"So, can we get more elves in on this expedition? That would be a fine way to ensure our success."
"And why do we need to know more about gillmen anyhow? They ain't no elves! Why'd they be worth our attention? Disgusting!"
"Praise Desna!"
Master Shaine looks worriedly at the Dwarf for a moment. He seems a little relieved when the silence is broken by Lucrezia, Ah yes well I guess strictly speaking if he said "No Dwarves" you could have one. Since Dwarves is the plural of Dwarf and he didn't say no Dwarfs... at a loss of what else to say he looks pleadingly around at the other members of the part.
Sir Dydimus seems infuriated by the comments and stands there shaking in anger for a second before marching across the table and up to the Dwarf. You better stow that attitude Pathfinder! You are here to do three things EXPLORE, REPORT and COOPERATE! If you can't handle that maybe you should go pack your bags and head home! Now the master of Scrolls has given you a mission and elves or no elves, dwarves or no dwarves you need to see it though! YOU GOT THAT PATHFINDER!
Tentatively Shaine puts a hand on the Halfling's shoulder and pulls him away from the dwarf. Um.. that is enough I think Dydimus.
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No dwarves? Do you mean no dwarves other than you? If you mean no dwarves, then you can't go, because I don't know if you noticed or not, but you are a dwarf.
Uncle Hubbub starts to shake with anger "Now you listen here, missy. I ain't no damn dwarf and I never will be!" "I'll thank you not to point out my rare skin condition! It's bad enough that I'm coised as I am to look this way, so far removed from my true elven heritage. Praise Desna!"
You are here to do three things EXPLORE, REPORT and COOPERATE!
"Oh, I ain't got no problems explorin', reportin', or cooperatin'. You doesn't has ta git your lesser-race self all up in a tizzy. I'm just sayin' that: 1) It's kind of pointless since gillmen ain't no elves, and 2) We could do this much better faster if an elf was leading us! Ain't that right, Master Shaine? Praise Desna!"
Ah yes well I guess strictly speaking if he said "No Dwarves" you could have one.
"Well, all I can say is thank Desna we ain't even got one stanky, smelly, nasty, foul-mouthed, uncouth dwarf in this here expedition! I can't stands their beards! Always doin' 'em up in those dumb-ass braids or just layin' 'em out there all nasty and wildly tangled and all that mess. Praise Desna!"
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Alek glances around at his fellow Pathfinders, not recognizing any of them, save for the infamous Sir Dydimus. He scratches his wolf, Cinderpaw, behind the ear while the companion gnaws on a bone. When Dydimus makes his return, Alek swipes one of the apple biscuits precariously stacked in the halfling's hands. "Why thank you, Sir Dydimus! You are the most gracious of guides in bringing myself and Cindew some biscuits." He break off half, offering it to Cinderpaw while he munches on the rest, listening to his companions introduce themselves.
Alek scrunches up his face a little as the dwarf prattles on strangely about the excellence of elves and his apparent dislike for his own kind. "Aleksander Stormcrow, but just call me Alek." The tall young man of obviously mixed blood, the Ulfen ancestry is readily apparent, but the slight bronzing of his skin speaks of Taldan blood. He nudges Cinderpaw with his boot, eliciting a playful growl from the wolf, who continues to gnaw on his bone. "That's Cinderpaw down there, close friend of mine."
Well I don't know about that. The master of Scrolls replies, kind of embarassed at the dwarf's behavior. But um.. as a elf I am asking... um... ordering, you to complete the mission so I guess you should listen to me.. he offers meekly.
relieved and something else to focus on he turns to Telos, I believe there is one more expected to join this adventure.
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Is Uncle Hubbub beardless?
No really, Hubbub, you are a dwarf. You are far too short to be an Elf. Plus, your voice is too deep. Elves usually have much more melodic voices. Your voice, not so much. Unless you think sandpaper is melodic.
Stops and looks quizzically at Uncle Hubbub, Wait, is this a joke?
The Master of Scrolls drops his head into his hands. Yes this is definitely a joke, the whole thing has to be a joke, please let it all be a joke... he mutters to himself.
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I get it. Desna, Goddess of Dreams. You're dreaming, aren't you?
Clearly enjoying this, You know how much you would have had to bend down/kneel/stoop in order to look me straight in the eye if you were an elf? Much more than a dwarf has to. Are you just short for your age?
Turns her back on him and walks away, going to get another apple biscuit, Dwarf.
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Alek listens to Hubbub with a shocked look on his face, his mouth hanging open for a few minutes... Suddenly he breaks into raucous laughter laughter, nearly choking on a bite of apple biscuit as he pounds his fist on the tabletop. After a moment, the young man wipes the tears from his eyes.
Still chuckling and smiling, he puts his arm in between Hubbub and Lucrezia. "My little dear, perhaps we ought to leave the dwaf---" he catches himself. "The good elf to his opinions of his umm... ancestry." Alek strokes his own goatee. "Though I must say, that is quite the thickest beard I've ever seen on an elf."
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Steam is practically visible from Hubbub's ears. "How dare you malign my true elven heritage!" He raises his elven curve blade.
"Explore, report, . Explore, report, . Explore, report, ." He says to himself as he closes his eyes and lowers his blade.
"Think of yourself in the great outdoors, among the trees, and under the stars..." He is clearly trying to meditate and center himself.
"Ahhhh... Praise... Desna... !" He exhales with relief.
"Don't let this lesser being hold sway over you. It's not her fault she's an ignant not-elf." He's starting to get worked up again.
His eyes open and he yells, "Praise Desna!" His eyes appear severly bloodshot. A vein clearly throbs in his forehead. He grinds his teeth and the sound of them cracking is very, very loud.
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"Yes. The mission! By blade and my bow are ever at the ready. Like any good, true elf would be! Even though we're not being led by an elf, we'll probably still succeed. Sloppily. Poorly. But, by the grace of the Starsong, we'll succeed. At least we'll be outside for part of this expedition. Praise Desna!"
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Telos looks with concern at the ranger.
Okaaay. Time to change the subject before things get out of hand.
"The weapon you wield is surely that of the elves, is it not? I understand that only the master elvish craftsmen are capable of bending steel into such a thin yet sturdy curve. Is that not the case?
The Master of Scrolls is now softly weeping into his hands. What has the society fallen too... he mutters between stifled sobs.
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"Why, yes. That's strangely perceptive for your lesser eyes to notice. See how the blade is supple, yet strong. Just like the lithe arms of a beautiful pale elf." He seems to melt a little. "Dancin' all dexy-like under the pale light of the stars..." Big sigh. "Praise Desna!" The last bit comes out with barely the volume of a whisper.
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The Master of Scrolls is now softly weeping into his hands. What has the society fallen too... he mutters between stifled sobs.
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Moving up to the group, casting his eyes from the dwarf to the gnome, then back to the masters, a deeply tanned-skin half-elf finds a lull in the speaking to talk.
I can see this will be an interesting journey. Not only seeking out the mystery of these Gillmen and the cave, but with such.... unique companions.
I am Iraldi, originally from the Mwangi range.
Iraldi's adventurer's clothing looks a little worn but still servicable, his lamellar armor scuffed, but his light crossbow seems remarkably well kept.
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"Well, look at ye. Seems like either yer mommy or yer daddy had a bad night." Hubbub shakes his head at the gunslinger. "But, as a half-elf, I guess we can expect ye ta be half-right half the time." "But, don't you worry. Stick with me and we'll give rise to your superior elven heritage. Praise Desna!" Hubbub then launches into a song about the Ritual of Stardust.
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Sir Dydimus slumps his shoulders and stops trying to console the Master of Scrolls. He turns around and levels his glare at the gnome. His voice starts out slow and even but increases in tempo and volume as he continues, We are going into the Kortos mountains to explore a mysterious cave that I discovered. We are going to head out first thing tomorrow morning from Westgate. We are going to going to work together as a team to overcome any and all obstacles we come across. Sir Dydimus is 'tall' a top the table seemingly forgetting about the chaos that is the party and is starting to get excited again about the adventure. The begins to looks around the table as he speaks, doing his very best to rally those assembled. We are going into the Great Unknown! We are going to face untold dangers! We are going to discover Wondrous Treasures of bygone ages! We are going investigate the Greatest Mysteries of our Time! We are going to EXPLORE, REPORT, AND COOPERATE, BECAUSE WE ARE He raises, what he thinks is his sword but is actually an apple biscuit, dramatically in the air and looks out onto the 'Horizon of Discovery', a spider web in the rafters of the dirty inn.
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"That be Uncle Hubbub ta ye, missy!" Hubbub squares his shoulders. "It's my duty, as a clergyman of Desna, to spread the verses of The Starsong to all of my superior elven brothers and sisters wherever they may be. The Song of the Spheres spent her time in the earliest days of creation building the heavens. She's changed little since those earlier days, and she and her followers (like yours truly) delight in exploring the world. Everywhere I go, every elf I meet is my family. Ain't that right, Master Shaine." The dwarf claps a hand on Shaine's shoulder, perhaps a bit too hard, and boisterously cries out, ""
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You are not my uncle. We are not related.
"Oh, I thank the Moon and the Stars for that every day of my charmed life, don't you know! Why, I think I might not be able ta live with myself if I didn't have an elven heritage as pure as the driven snow. How the rest of all y'all can bear an existence without long lifespans, graceful physiques, long ears, and skin as smooth as still water is beyond me. Somethimes I think that the lesser races were allowed to exist for the sole purpose of further accentuating the perfection of elvenkind. Praise Desna!"
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Staring at the dwarf/elf, Iraldi can't help but smile slightly.
I would not know about that good sir, but I do know that I am proud of both sides. Just as you are proud of yours.
Iraldi turns to Dydimus, to ask a question.
So, is there anything that we should be preparing ourselves for? Particular terrain or monsters that might need forethought to safely bypass?
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An elf comes running, or in this case stumbling at a fast pace, in through the door. Hunched over at the waste trying to catch his breath he stands up breathing deeply and then immediately goes back into the hunched position raising a finger asking for a moment for he has something to say.
A few moments pass and then he looks at Master Shaine and says Sorry, I am late. I just couldn't gather my things in time. He looks over the straps and fasteners of his armor for a quick moment, adjusting it with his hands as what could be dangerous vials clink with every tug of the oversized armor.
He looks at the rest of his companions for a brief moment. You can't quite get the feeling if he is socially awkward or holds you in disdain.
Aha! An excellent question Iraldi! The Krotos Mountains are filled will all sorts of nasty and vile creatures. Stories hold that the area the cave is in is home to centaurs, harpies, minotaurs, giants, and of course Dragons! As far as the caves themselves I would imagine ever more dangerous and disgusting creatures like oozes, ghouls, dwarves, ogres, and of course Dragons! answers the halfling excitedly.
Seeing the Alchemist enter Dydimus stops short and seems scared for a moment. Looking back and forth between the new arrival and 'Uncle' Hubub, he seems at a loss of what to do. OK! he blurts out loudly and nervously, Looks like everyone is here! So see you all tomorrow at Westgate! And he dashes out the door again.
Seeing Sir Dydimus leave and realizing that an 'True' elf has just joined the party The Master of Scrolls looks around panicked for a second before retrieving a scroll from a case at his side. With a couple works of arcane might and odd gestures he disappears with a sharp 'POP" like a cork out of the top of a bottle.
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"Finally! Another example of the absolute poifection that is elvenkind!" The dwarf beams at Aravanshiel Ithaeur. "I'm rightly pleased ta meet'cha. With two-and-a-half elves on this mission, we're sure ta succeed where lesser races would be doomed ta failure."
Shaking his head, Hubbub continues, "Poor, pathetic lesser races. They're so far beneath us that I don't even feel sorry for them, sometimes." In an aside to the alchemist he adds, "Try not to hold their inferiority against them. Explore, report, cooperate and all that."
Sir Dydimus meets you bright and early at Westgate striking a dramatic pose with a brand new hat and a full backpack slung over his shoulder. Greetings! What a beautiful morning to start our adventure! Now it will take us a couple days to get there, everyone one have plenty of food? Great! Now As we are going to explore the 'Caves of Death!' you'll all want to record your heroics! So in honor of your Confirmation I have secured you these! He holds up a number of cheap journals. Your very own Chronicles!
After handing out the journals, he adjusts his backpack and calls to the party, Onward to Adventure!
The journey is uneventful, besides the drama caused by the party. The party travels along a well used path through the Cairnlands and Sir Dydimus points out historic ruined siege towers including The Fallen Fortress, the Red Redoubt, and Asad’s Keep. Spending the night on the edge of the forest the marks the foothills of the Kortos Mountains proves safe and none of the watches are disturbed. As they move deeper into the foothills on the second day, Sir Dydimus pulls out a silver wayfinder with the Glyph of the Open Road etched on the cover, opening it you can see his Initials etched into the inside cover. Smiling he holds it up for everyone to see, Isn't she beautiful. I received this after I successfully completed my Confirmation. Should we be successful on our journey, you will get your own as well. He snaps the lid shut and point off to the horizon, We’re moving off the trail now. We need to head northwest past those large rock out cropping in the distance. We should be at the cave by a little past noon.
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Telos, mentally weary from the incessant observations about elves the last few days, looks eager to enter the cave. The human squints noticeably in the sunlight and draws the hood of his cloak over his head.
Finally, some action!
"That is a nice wayfinder, Sir Dydimus. It seems like a great tool. I am eager to obtain my own," he adds.
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Iraldi, waits near the gate for the others to make it. When offered the journal he graciously accepts the book.
I am sure we will find some valuable information to put in the chronicles.
During the hike, Iraldi seems to be at home in the wilderness, moving through the trees and brush easily.
So my fellow Pathfinders, what can you do? I myself am quiet the hand at range, prefer it actually. He pats the crossbow on his back, though you do see a pair of daggers at his side and one hand covered in leather and metal reinforced glove.