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A pallid, smooth-scaled figure joins the gathering of Pathfinders. Her yellow eyes squint in the bright light of the day, and her pink forked tongue tastes the occasional breeze. She is dressed in the blue and white vestments of Pharasma, and she wears a matching holy symbol around her neck.
"Greetings, wanderers. My name is Sesska, acolyte of the Gray Lady."
She opens a satchel on her belt and withdraws a half dozen small black roses. They look freshly picked and meticulously dethorned. One by one, she offers each of you a single rose, and gently places any remaining ones back in her pouch.
She bows elegantly, "May the whippoorwills guide our journey... and sing our praises, should we not return."
As she returns to an upright posture you just barely catch a glimpse of a bandolier of black knives hidden beneath her baggy clothing.
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A muscular half-orc nods in greeting. He is shorter than others of his kind, being a few inches under six feet in height, but also more compact and agile.
He bears the arms and armor of Tien.
Politely, he responds to Sesska. "I am Helm Akodo. I am confident we will complete this mission with honor."
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The basement of the Grand Lodge is completely silent, other than the echoing footsteps of a few over-eager scholars. The note was simple, “Meet me in storage room 34c at dawn. Bring coffee.” At the end of a long hallway, a door stands ajar and the smell of sulfur, saltpeter, and other chemicals wafts from it. Venture Captain Michael Schwartz peers out from behind a maddeningly intricate series of glass tubes and beakers, and wipes a bit of soot off his face.
“Ah, good, good, glad you all managed to find my ‘office’. Sorry for the mess, I’m in the middle of prepping extracts.” His gravelly voice echoes down the empty hallway. He motions for you to approach before continuing.
“Tell me, how many of you have heard of a town called Kassen?” Without waiting for an answer, he emerges from behind the alchemy lab, holding a stack of parchment. “Apparently it’s a minor village in northern Nirmathas, purely agrarian, mostly isolated, and completely uninteresting.” He grins. “Except, of course, for the one thing that’s interesting about it.”
“The town is less than two days travel from the resting place of the hero Kassen, a crypt that no one outside the village has set foot in since its creation. The locals call it the Crypt of the Everflame, named for a unique magical flame that was lit to honor the fallen hero. During the harvest they often send their best and brightest, in this case you, to retrieve the flame as a sort of coming of age ceremony.”
He shrugs and cracks a smile. “Maybe they think it makes the crops grow bigger, I don’t know, and the Society doesn’t particularly care.”
“The flame is ultimately irrelevant, it just provides us with an in. Three months ago, one of our contacts reported seeing a small band of heavily armed individuals passing through the town, heading in the direction of the crypt. They’re what the Society cares about. Though of course, I should not need to tell you that the townsfolk hold it in great regard,, so best not to mention anything is amiss.”
He pauses for a moment to take a swig of his steaming mug, swallowing the bitter drink with a grimace.
“Your mission is to go to Kassen, participate in their ceremony, and enter the crypt. Once there, make note of anything historically significant, discover what the grave robbers were after, and retrieve the flame. It should go without saying, but avoid damaging the crypt or offending the locals, we’re guests in Kassen, and would like to be invited back in the future. Remember, the most important thing is to watch each others’ backs, and get out alive. The boat leaves in six hours, but do you have any questions?”
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The bookish halfling grins excitedly, barely able to contain her eager anticipation for a new adventure. She listens intently, silently mouthing back to herself the venture captain's words as he says them. 'Kassen... Everflame... six hours...'
Almost as soon as the VC pauses for questions, Zinnia blurts out a torrent of words. "Right, so we're going to 'retrieve the flame'. Ooo, that sounds exciting! But, does that mean we're going to have to remove some kind of artifact like a magic lamp or perhaps a brazer or some such from the crypt? Is this 'flame' easily portable? Or do we just need to ignite something like an ordinary torch from the original magical flame itself and bring that back to Kassen? Or do we need to bring it all the way back here, because that's a long way and I don't really have that many torches. Do any of you?" she asks, looking around at her fellow assembled Pathfinders.
Her eyes are wide -- or perhaps it is her glasses which make them appear so -- as she scans the faces of those around her.
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The Venture captain slowly shakes their head at the inquisitive halfling's tirade of questions, obviously it is too early for the Venture Captain as he takes another sip of coffee.
"The villagers have a ritual with the flame, usually it is an honour for those coming of age, however there are not many younglings this year amd so we have been asked to get the flame. The Mayor will tell you more about it I am sure. Just remember to be polite when he does so."
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Again the Venture Captain shrugs, another sip of the bitter coffee making him grimace.
"You misunderstand, there are not enough children of age to take up the task at present, but the ritual must be fulfilled."
He messes with some paperwork on his deak and pauses to check on the concotions bubbling away.
"From what I know it was founded by Ekat Kassen, a warrior in service to Lastwall who got into politics as he aged as one does. He founded the Town in the Fangwood forest, Kassen’s Hold, as ii became known and the place was successful for years, before an old comrade of Kassen’s, a man named Asar, raised an army against him. The two fought for years, before finally killing each other. Again, the mayor should tell you more.
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A tall Garundi male, his face weather-beaten, but his eyes full of life, dappled as they are with flecks of gold, thoughtfully interjects:
"Agreed. Rituals from the past need to be continued, else each successive generation will remember less and less of their past, until the Old Ways become naught but the faintest echo of a zephyr, in the face of the great tempest that is the present. I, too, will willingly participate in this endeavour."
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Completely oblivious to the fact that Horus probably had no intention of sparking abstract debate regarding the social significance of rituals, Zinnia nods softly before raising a delicate hand in mild objection. "However, some rituals are quite barbaric and, while fascinating, are best left in the past, don't you think? This one, anyway, seems harmless enough. So let's get to it! I'm ready to head for the boat right now. Shall we?"
Unfortunately, Zinnia's enthusiasm belies her actual level of preparedness, which is dismal. Aside from a whip and a sling at her belt, she apparently has not other gear of which to speak.
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The Venture Captain stares blankly at Horus for a moment as his tired brain digests the profound Philosophy, before shaking his head in wonder. It was obviously too early for the Alchemist to enter into such verbal sparring and he sighs as he notes his cup is empty.
"Well, I would sort out any supplies you might think of now as Kassen is a bit of a backwater. I doubt they have anyyhing truly wondorous there, but if you find any reaganta they can always help. I expect a full report on the Crypt on your return."
With that, The Venture Captain goes back to his experiments, messing with dials and making notes on parchment. You now have a few hours to prepare for the boat.
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"Yes. Keeping this culture alive and thriving is most definitely important. I shall be there to help in whatever way I can."
Rygel is a small, frog-like man (grippli), wearing a grey doctors coat with many pockets. In the front, top pocket sticks out a wooden carving, a symbol to some god.
"Sounds like a bit of a journey, though. I do hope we have a sense of humour amonget us, I do jump at a good joke", he smiles at each person, hoping for some recognition of the terrible pun.
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The hours in Absalom pass by uneventful as you enjoy the time to grab a bite of breakfast in the Grand Lodge's Canteen. Getting to know each other of a hot porridge, you see Agents new and established preparing for their own missions. With time to purchase any gear you feel is needed for you task, you arrive at the docks with plenty of time to spare.
The harbour-master takes your relevant documents and leads you the Sea Sprite, a three masted galley suited more for battle than escort but the Captain greets you warmly. Your journey again is uneventful and soon you find yourself walking into the small town of Kassen's hold.
Talk soon starts to pass through the townsfolk upon your arrival, the simple folk remarking upon the exotic nature of the group. It is not long till you are approached by a large man with a blonde beard, who clearly has at least a self inflated view of himself. With a grin and a booming voice he greets you.
"Welcome Travellers! Might I be so bold as to enquire if you are of the Society?" his words are warm but you see there is a bit of theatrics for the townsfolk's benefit. "I am Mayor Uptal a pleasure"
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The Mayor beams as his suspicions prove correct and he gives a sweeping courtly bow in return, pleased you are keeping to his theatrics. With a clap of his hands he smiles and beckons you to follow him into Kassen. Assuming you do so you find that Kassen is a fairly large settlement, obviously a product of their years of initial prosperity. A sturdy wall rings the village except for where it meets the river, with Kassen being split over both shores.
Still amiling the Mayor leads you into the towns meeting place, a sizable hall which seems to have his own home upstairs. A long table is set up with a rather unspectacular, but filling meal.
"Come, sit and eat!" he declares, a few others joining you from the village, quite possibly the town elders. "The society told me it was sending the finest of their recruits and I must say already I am impressed! Your trial will start tomorrow so for today you are welcome to rest and enjoy our town. Is there anything we can do for you?"
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Zinnia beams back at the smiling mayor, happily taking in the sights and sounds -- and smells, once invited to eat - of her new surroundings. She sits quickly and immediately begins tasting a bite of everything offered.
She follows up her fellow Pathfinders with questions of her own. "Yes, especially regarding this 'flame'. What is it? And how exactly do we 'retrieve' it?"
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The Mayor and the council begin to eat, all but the Mayor filling their plates with a modest share. After a few mouthfuls and a swallow of wine the Mayor begins to talk, his face serious.
"Tomorrow is the 4th day of Neth, This is the day, in the year 4535, when Ekat Kassen and his men set out from town to find Asar’s camp and deal with the vile mercenary once and for all." He explains solemnly, taking a pause for dramatic effect.
"Asar and his band had raided the Town for months, as their leader falsely claimed that Ekat had cheated him. Ekat and Asar were comrades in arms before Ekat was given rights to settle Kassen and they went their separate ways."
With the background set, the Mayor takes a moment to eat some more and wash it down with wine.
" Finally, the townsfolk managed to locate Asar’s camp in an ancient crypt deep in the forest, and Ekat himself went out to deal with his old companion. The battle was terribly bloody, with only a few townsfolk coming back to tell the tale. In the end, Asar was slain and his mercenaries scattered, but Ekat suffered a mortal wound. He died 2 days later, on the 11th day of Neth, 4535. In honour of his sacrifice, Ekat was buried in that old Crypt where the battle was waged. interring his bones in a place of honor, above the simple sarcophagi used to inter Asar, his mercenaries, and the townsfolk that lost their lives in the bitter struggle. They placed an eternal flame above Kassen’s final resting place, so that all who visited might find warmth in the wilderness."
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The Mayor nods to the Halfling's questions, swallowing his latest bite of meal. The Councilman with him are quiet and thoughtful as if studying you.
"Every year on the 4th a delegation from the village travel to the Crypt, light a specialist lantern and bring the flame back here to Kassen. This light is representative of our resilience in the face of life's trials."
Unless further questions are asked, the Mayor bids you rest, opening the Town hall for your use.
"The Journey will be two days and will begin tomorrow at Noone." he explains. "This is all part of the ritual you see and that is as important as the flame itself. We will provide provisions for your travel, you should not need much but keep your wits about you, there are wolves in the woods."
Bidding you farewell, the Mayor and the council take their leave, giving you a bit of time to enjoy the town before you take to your beds for the night.
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After the group is alone, Sesska voices her concerns.
"This may be pure innocence. The townsfolk may be so steeped in their traditions that they're willing to accept anyone to perform this ritual, no matter their origins."
"Or the mayor might know something else, and we'll simply discover it with time. I suspect no malevolence, otherwise he would not have reached out to such a global and public organization. Whatever the case, this site is valuable to the Society. We should Explore to the best of our ability."
Sesska removes her clerical vestments before settling in for the evening, revealing that underneath this whole time was a form-fitting black suit and a bandolier of knives.
Ceromoniously she places her knives on the ground in a spiral while performing several asanas and chanting hymns to Pharasma in draconic .
She is quiet and quick, showing her skill and practice in the matter, and in practically no time she completes her obeisances and is fast asleep.
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Zinnia is glad to hear that the town will provide supplies. Once again, she's forgotten to provide them for herself. . .
"So, I guess it's time to rest up," she says to her companions, though she really doesn't feel tired. She's too excited about the chance to explore the crypt. Nevertheless, she beds down for the night and tries to quiet her whirling thoughts long enough to get some sleep.
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The night passes uneventful as you rest in the beds provided at the Town hall, awaiting the beginning of your journey tomorrow. Breakfast is provided for you all as you awake but none of the council join you this time. Spending the morning tending to your own gear or in prayer is you want, you await the midday bells...
The bells atop the Temple of Erastil toll their midday song, echoing throughout the quiet town of Kassen. As the peals begin to fade, the first of the townsfolk make their way into the square, dressed in black, as if attending a funeral. They slowly fill the square, moving quietly across the cold, hard ground, their eyes downcast and mournful. After a few moments, a murmur passes through the crowd as it slowly parts to let Mayor Uptal through.
He leads the way with a tarnished silver lantern. Behind him, an old pony drags a cart laden with backpacks and supplies. Once he reaches the center of the crowd, Mayor Uptal stops and calls out to the assembled townsfolk.
“Once again the winter winds blow through the Fangwood, marking the end of another harvest. There are wolves in the woods, howling at our walls, and serpents in our shadows, waiting to strike. Just as it was one hundred and seventy-four years ago, when Kassen himself left these walls to protect us, so it is today. Where are the heroes? Where are the brave folk that will venture out to Kassen’s tomb and retrieve the flame to keep this community safe for another winter?”
At this point he pauses and it is obvious that it is your time to join him on the stage. The crowd look at you still sombre despite your aid. The Mayor solemnly presents you with the tarnished lantern, bidding you take care of their town relic and gestures to the cart.
The mayor once again speaks to the townsfolk. “I present to you the brave heroes who will follow in Kassen’s footsteps to retrieve the Everflame! Some of them may not return, but I say to you that their sacrifice shall not be forgotten. Go, brave heroes, and do not return until you have the eternal fire.”
With that, the mayor points to the south, the direction of Kassen’s tomb. The townsfolk begin waving goodbye with cold, solemn looks on most of their faces.
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The ritual complete there is nothing left but to leave the village and head on towards Kassen's crypt and retrieve a piece of the Everflame. Rummaging through the packs you find that you each have a sixth of the map, meaning you have to work together to make your way there.Two hours in to your journey you hear voices ahead.
The narrow path winds through the raking claws of the trees, now bereft of their leaves, which crunch loudly underfoot. Up ahead, a fallen tree trunk blocks the path. Suddenly a trio of snarling humanoids leaps up from behind the log, all greenish skin and fearsome tusks, bellowing vulgar challenges.
Rygel
Orc 3
Zinnia
Sesska
Pioni
Helm
Horus
Orc 2
Orc 1
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Rygel darts up and holds their crossbow, unfortunately the string had become damp on the journey, causing the bolt to slam harmlessly into the tree trunk. In response, the orc wearing the remnants of a red tunic gives a roar and charges forwards. Attacking Horus with a vicious Axe!
for
Rygel
Orc 3
Zinnia
Sesska
Pioni
Helm
Horus
Orc 2
Orc 1
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Horus strikes back at the Orc indignantly but their Morningstar fails to connect with the snarling creature. Pioni likewise has no success. Darting forwards, Sesska's first strike hits home, causing the Orc to cry out in pain and stagger back.
Rygel
Orc 3 -6 (Staggered)
Zinnia
Sesska
Pioni
Helm
Horus
Orc 2
Orc 1
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Zinnia had been enjoying the stroll, her imagination stoked by their performance of the role of local heroes. fortunately, her senses are sharp, so even when her mind wanders her reactions do not suffer.
"It's orcs!" Zinnia exclaims. "Ooo, they're so nasty and mean and gross. They'll skin us for sure, and eat our livers, if we don't defend ourselves!"
She draws the whip from her belt and lets it uncoil loosely, even as she stands her ground and continues to orate excitedly. "Or they might take us alive so they can make us their slaves. They're cruel masters, and quite uncivil."
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With a deep breath, Helm slices the orc across the chest causing the already injured creature to collapse with a cry of pain. Growling in response, the fallen Orc's comrades roar a warcry and charge you, one striking for Sesska and the other for the pintsized Pioni!
for
Rygel
Zinnia
Sesska
Pioni 6/11
Helm
Horus
Orc 2
Orc 1