You each recieved a summons to the Grand Lodge, where Ambrus Valsin dispatches you to the village of Nantambu, in the Mwangi Expanse to investigate rumors of a Venture Captain's disappearance. By the end of the day, you are on a ship bound for Garund....
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 woman of breathtaking beauty shakes her head sadly.
"The answer, I fear, was unpalatable, so 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.”
With a sigh, she hands over the translation of the rubbing.
After you read over the paper, Aya asks if you have any questions...
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Without as much as an introduction the elf speaks. Thanks to the rocky terrain and bright sun, the daytime temperature of the Bandu Hills can sometimes reaches lethal extremes. We'll need to prepare for the heat. Fort Bandu is the only major settlement for miles, and serves to protect the prospectors in the region.
Nivik continues. The Bandu Hills remain rich in gold, silver, and gems, despite several centuries of colonial mining. Prospectors arrive from throughout the Inner Sea region to seek their fortune. The local Mwangi tribes often retaliate violently, keep that in mind as we travel in case we are seen as these prospectors. The only other thing I know that might be useful is that most of the larger mining operations belong to the Deeptreasure Mining Company, which has dominated the local industry for nearly three centuries. Their onetime competitors, the Gold Crown Company, are now better known for shipping and export services.
Nivik then looks at the group as if he expects someone else to share their knowledge.
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Before the briefing begins, a spindly-legged grippli enters the room, walking bow-legged with his thumbs tucked into his belt, which is ornamented with a very large and very shiny belt buckle. He touches his webbed fingers to the tip of his Stetson and nods his head as he says, "Ma'ams" by way of introduction to the ladies in the room.
"Folks call me Chochok, which is fittin' seein' as that's m'name."
"The elf here has got the gist of it but we need to plan for more than just the Bandu tribes; there'll be ghouls and groups of kobolds, goblins, and hobgoblins along the way too. Not to mention festrogs—horrific flesh-eating undead that walk upright but run on all fours. Nasty buggers."
"And Mount Nakyk: well, that's one of the highest points in the Bandu Hills. It was known several centuries ago for its gold, as the elf implied."
Chochok hitches up his belt dramatically and says, "Ayup, it seems like we've got our work ahead of us. What can you tell us about this Pray-Tor fella?"
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A young elven lady with long, silver hair and bright blue eyes quietly sits in the corner. Her eyes widen with each description of the horrors she is expected to face, but then the silvery flecks in her eyes seem to turn to steel. As you look closer, you can make out faint tattoos on her face and arms.
Monsters and undead, extreme heat and likely exhaustion. I can do this.
"I am afraid I have no knowledge of the situation to add, and my last mission was in the snow! But I will endeavor to be useful where I can."
Aya nods to Antonella and says. "I have not heard of any Apsis activity in the area. I can provide a map to Fort Bandu. Fort Bandu, 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.”
Pausing, she thinks for a moment and says. "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.”
Aya smiles thinly and her jaw sets slightly. "Perhaps you did not know. Sharrowsmith is "my" partner in the import business. In reality, I run the business, while he uses it as a base of operations. In short, no, "we" cannot provide you with "assisstance". In fact, Sharrowsmiths running off like this has impacted "our" profits enough as it is."
Setting off for Fort Bandu, the party starts the journey south. The route involves traveling by boat down the Vanji River, then switching to canoes to paddle up the Little Vanji and Dzimmi Rivers. Finally, you wind through several of the lower Bandu Hills through a pass to Fort Bandu. Though strenuous, the trip is uneventful.
The fort is a small frontier settlement surrounded by high stone walls located on the northern edge of Sargava. Within the fort’s walls, dozens of mining companies maintain outposts out of pavilion tents, hiring laborers and purchasing necessary supplies brought in by merchants from the north, south, and west. The fort holds a garrison of 150 soldiers that struggle to maintain a balance of defense of the frontier and protection for the miners and traders within its walls.
When you arrive and enter the fort, the atmosphere is noticeably tense.
Without so much as a repsonse, a member of the garrison motions for you to follow and escorts you to the praetor’s office, a modest and utilitarian space comprised of several tables and a handful of half-stocked bookshelves. A war table featuring a map of the Bandu Hills region sits prominently in the center of the room, and three tall windows nearby let in a great deal of natural light.
Praetor Sylien is in mid-conversation with a lanky Garundi man in fine attire. Their conversation stops abruptly, and the praetor’s guest disdainfully glares at the party. “Pathfinders. I shouldn’t
be surprised. Only your organization would have the gall to so brazenly show its face when you’ve already caused so much damage.” He says, bristling.
“Pathfinders,” the praetor’s voice lacks the contempt of his guest, as if trying to subtly apologize for his tone. “This is Amersanus Valacosti of the Aspis Consortium. We’ve been discussing the troubles Fort Bandu has faced of late—troubles caused by your organization. I was unwilling to disclose the details to Mistress Allahe by courier, but now that you have arrived, I feel it pertinent to explain the nature of Fort Bandu’s… misgivings. Venture-Captain Sharrowsmith came through here some months ago, gathering supplies and information before setting off on an expedition into the hills. There, he roused the local kobold tribes and angered them enough that they now actively raid our settlements and mining operations." He says, he jaw clenching.
“Amersanus Valacosti and I were discussing how the Aspis Consortium may be able to help repair the damage your Society has inflicted on the people of Fort Bandu. Now that you’ve arrived, perhaps we can have a more balanced mediation. Your Pathfinder Society has a damaged reputation in the Bandu Hills, so I ask you state your business and why you think I should allow you to even so much as stay within the fort’s walls. What knowledge do you have of this land and its people that could prevent this situation from deteriorating further? I will only entertain questions regarding Sharrowsmith once I’m assured that providing you information will not further endanger my charges.”
Ignoring Nivik, Praetor nods to Antonella. "That is fine, but it doesn't really answer my question. What knowledge do you have of this land and its people that could prevent this situation from deteriorating further?"
At first, Sylien seems to question the party's knowldge of the area, but as everyone begins to chime in, he eventually nods, satisfied.
Valacosti grows increasingly incensed as the party explains your case. “Sharrowsmith professed an intimate understanding of the region and its delicate balance of power as well, and behold the results: dozens dead, dozens more missing, kobolds attacking our mining operations, and people living in fear of the next raid. Praetor, with all due respect, you cannot allow these Pathfinders to exacerbate an already delicate situation.”
The praetor remains patient. “Amersanus makes a good point. Sharrowsmith was a well-read and knowledgeable man, yet he disappeared in these jungles and caused damage we’re only beginning to feel the impact of thanks to the local kobold tribes. How is your expedition different? Do you have the necessary strength to survive in this environment where so many others cannot? Show me that those weapons and spellbooks you carry are not just for show.”
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Grim motions to his large bastard sword.. "It takes space to handle a weapon like that.. If we were outside I could show Valacosti here the finer workings of it, but alas we are not and im afraid I would damage your office at the least.. Perhaps Nivik here can work some magic.." He says as he claps the elf on the shoulder..
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I'm here to help complete a mission, not audition my skills for your judgment! However, understanding that the party needs to prove their worth, Nivik explains his knowledge of the arcane and demonstrates as such with his spellbook or by the use of his wands by casting Mage Armor on himself (as now is as good a time to do it).
The Praetor nods, obviously impressed. “Is this supposed to make an impression?” Valacosti is quick to dismiss the display of power. “If you think this situation can be solved at the point of a sword or by brandishing some hedge wizardry, you’re as ignorant as your predecessor. These Pathfinders will rush headlong into the jungle and slaughter the kobold tribe, creating a power vacuum among the other tribes and only worsen this disaster!”
Again, the praetor tries to remain impartial, though it is clear his patience is waning. “Once more I find myself seeing reason in Valacosti’ words. Strength of arms is all well and good, but this is a situation that also requires a certain amount of finesse. How do I know I trust you to handle this situation with a level head and a delicate touch when necessary?”
Sifvery, who has remained quiet until now, casts Truestrike on herself, knocks an arrow, and picks a hard to hit target, such as snuffing out a candle (something requiring 35 AC, for instance).
[dice=Arrow]1d20+25
"How's that?"