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Andoran, Almas
On one of the first warm days of spring Venture Captain Brackett has assembled a new team in one of the planning rooms of the lodge that was once the Grand Cathedral of Aroden. He gestures to seats around a central table and calls the meeting to order. Patches of colored light cast by the stained glass windows illuminate the table and Brackett at its head.
"Alright boys," the hawk faced man nods to Alie, "and lady- an opportunity has just presented itself and I need to assemble a team and get them up to Falcon's Hollow as soon as possible. Little sparrow showed up yesterday and started following me all over town." He snorts and shakes his head, "Took half the day before I realized it had a tiny little note wrapped around its leg. Faerie queens. Can't expect 'em to do anything the normal way."
"Don't know if any of you would have heard of Syntira- nymph Queen of Darkmoon Wood up north? That's the woods around Falcon's Hollow. Well- according to her note the fey up there have been hit by plague and its sweeping through their woods wiping out her Court. They are desperate for some help to find a cure. I'm not gonna lie- humanitarian aid is not really our business here, but there are a couple of things in play that might make this worth our while."
"As fey go, Syntira seems decent enough. For a long time now she has been working to improve relations between her Court and the settlers at Falcon's Hollow. That has more or less been a one sided affair. The Lumber Consortium would just as soon see the fey dead. Easier to log it out that way. Bunch of short sided fools if you ask me. They don't have the sense to realize Syntira is the only thing keeping the fey of the Darkmoon Vale in check. I don't know if its true, but I've heard a faerie queen can't die from something like disease, but it could leave her changed- twisted. We can't afford to have that happen. The majority of the lumber here in Almas comes from Darkmoon Vale. Keeping things under control will be worth a certain amount of favor trading here in town. Besides that- I think we all know how hard it is to earn anything approaching trust among the fey. This could be our chance to cultivate a powerful ally and learn about some of the most elusive beings here in Andoran. Their magical nature... the First World they claim to have come from... there are possibilities to break new ground here."
"I spoke with Telfyr, our librarian here, and he thinks the disease may originate from a cursed relic known as Isandrea's Basin that has been rumored to be hidden deep in Darkmoon Wood. If this theory proves accurate, I want you to obtain the basin and bring it to me for study. If it really is the basin, this thing has lain dormant for decades. I imagine an external force must have figured out how to harness the artifact's power. If so, it is probably under heavy guard. Be prepared."
"One Lumber Consortium logging camp in particular has been particularly... aggressive" he says the word with distaste, "toward the resident fey over the last year. Both Syntira and I believe this would be the place to start your investigation." He slides a folded map and a set of tickets across the table towards you. "This map ought to get you to the cutyard and we're sending you by riverboat this time. They'll drop you right in Falcon's Hollow. Don't expect too much there. This is a company settlement. Not enough people and those who are there are too poor to afford the kind of gear professionals might want. Stock up here in Almas, but the boat leaves at dawn tomorrow. The disease sounds like it's spreading fast. We need to stop this before it gets out of hand or we don't have any leverage or favors left to call in and the assignment is a bust. Get in, identify the disease, find Syntira and aid her any way you can. Got it?"
Dotting...
Dot fu...
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"If Falcon's Hollow is a company settlement, not only will we not be able to buy any equipment, I'd bet we will be hindered by the populace as well...if they were to know our true purpose. Anyone have a plan on a cover story that might get us in, without being hanged by the lumberjacks? We could always come up with a cover story on the ship, though. Of course, I've never been on the water before, so if some of us were to be seasick that might make planning more difficult." The words come out very quickly, and slightly hard to understand for those who have not met the pretty female gnome before.
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Wadi, who is quite used to the speech patterns of Alie, lets her finish talking, and then responds, "Well, we could certainly devise something en route while we are on the way to Falcons's Hallow. I suppose I could handle a boat journey, but I prefer not taking a dip, if at all possible. We should definitely stock up here as well, I think getting some extra healing and antiplague vials would be wise, what do you think?"
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Aldred sits quietly for the moment, listening intently to Venture Captain Brackett’s words and getting his measure of his fellow Pathfinders.
There is a camaraderie of sorts evident between several of the assembled adventurers, and the words of the dark haired gnome and the short, intense looking man indicate a certain experience with this sort of thing.
Aldred holds his tongue for now, not wanting to seem inexperienced, although the blunt truth is that he is – newly graduated from the Society’s training and on his first true mission as a Pathfinder. Apparently he’s been assigned to this mission given his Andoran heritage – though in truth he’s never been to Darkmoon Vale, nor dealt with the Lumber Consortium ... family lore has it that there is some fey heritage in the bloodline on his mother’s side, but that’s little more than rumour and family gossip or maybe even humans getting elves confused with fey, and Aldred is not convinced that it will help him here even if it is true.
It seems that this mission may require some deft diplomacy, which is perhaps another reason the bard has been included on the roster – he does have a way with words, despite his current hesitation to speak – and if he’s honest with himself, nervousness.
His fellow Pathfinders will see that Aldred is a tall, pale skinned, dark haired man, the blood of elves evident in his attractive features, pointed ears and slim build. He wears a long, dark coat over light armour, and a sword hangs (a little awkwardly) at his belt. Propped beside his chair is a Wiscrani mandolin (a slightly larger instrument than the traditional Taldan version, bearing eight strings rather than six).
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Fog sits quietly, waiting for the others to finish speaking. He is a dwarf of average build, with bright ginger hair, and beard. In the right light, it would appear his head was aflame. He is wearing gleaming armour, even in this friendly environment, and has a bright shining symbol of Sarenrae in the midst of the scales.
When he does speak, his voice is quiet, but gruff, and sounds as though he is trying to keep it quieter than it normally would be. "Curing folk would make My lady happy, reward, favours or no. If the lumber company decide they want to get in the way of that, well" he draws a long functional, although not very elaborate scimitar, "There are ways o' dealing with that."
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While listening to Venture Captain Brackett discuss the new assignment, Kayluss surveys the new additions to the group, relived to see that he will not be the only one in the group who knows how to use a blade. As his thoughts begin to wonder he is pulled back to the task at hand when he hears the party's destination, at the mention of Falcon's Hollow he utters a curse under his breath. Having been there once before Kayluss had hoped to never see that pit of a town again.
There are a couple of notable ruins in the area around Falcon's Hollow so adventures are somewhat common in town so I don't imagine us having too much of a problem, but a cover story couldn't hurt especially if we have to deal with the "lumber thugs".
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Brackett listens to Alie then takes a second to sort out what she just said. "I don't expect the townspeople will give you too much of a problem. Mostly we're talking about average people willing to work their way through hardship to start over, the occasional prospector or explorer looking to strike it rich, heretics fleeing persecution from the Church. They recruit a lot of their camp from families who lost everything to war. I wouldn't expect them to go out of their way to help you, but I doubt they are much to worry about."
"The lumber bosses on the other hand... I can't imagine they would be so bold as to openly attack our field agents, but they'd be willing to make sure you didn't find whatever you were looking for if they thought it was to their advantage. Course, if it turns out Isandrea's Basin is active and they have it... Well- all bets are off then. Be careful. Magistrate Harg, little halfling fella, runs the town, but according to our records he's a company puppet with Boss Kreed making him dance. Neither of them mingle too much so I don't figure you'll run into them. Sheriff Baleson is an honest man, but steer clear of Boss Teedum. 'Payday' he goes by. Company head cracker."
When Fog begins to draw his scimitar, Brackett cuts him off, "Listen, we are definitely NOT looking for a bloodbath here. The Consortium has near 200 mercenaries on payroll. Most of them guard the cutyards, but there are plenty back at the Hollow any time. We're looking for a little finesse here, but we put together the best team we could on short notice to handle this situation. If it comes to the point that you need to draw that against the Lumber Consortium, I suggest you get the hell out of town. Get to Syntira and see what you can do on her end." He stops to think for a moment, "In fact, I'm going to have the boat drop you off away from the Hollow a little closer to the cutyard. That way Payday and his men don't have a chance to head you off if they were inclined to do so. You can head into town or not after you have an idea whether they were involved in the plague."
"Any questions?"
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Sekhemre is saddened when he sees the fate of the Grand Cathedral in Almas.
"Ah, my departed Lord Aroden, how quickly the humans forget you in a short span of but one hundred years. Still, at least your cathedral remains consecrated to the collection and storage of knowledge; a fitting epitaph, I think..."
As the Venture Captain outlines the mission, Sekhemre shakes himself from his reverie.
"A new disease to study? That certainly sounds... interesting..."
He smiles at Alie, Wadi, and Kayluss.
"It is good to see the three of you again; would that it could be under happier circumstances!"
He nods at Wadi's suggestion.
"Stocking-up would probably be wise."
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"If we want to avoid bloodshed, we should look into some less forceful means of restraining the citizenry if necessary. Maybe we should buy something like thunderstones, tanglefoot bags, and perhaps a couple of bags of caltrops to cover any retreat that might be necessary. We could slow them down while we kept our scimitars sheathed," smiling at the dwarf she did not recognize.
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Wadi smiles at the pretty gnome, glad to be working with her again. "Wow you make it sound like we are going to the heart of the Cheliax Empire's capital city, instead of a bunch of lumberers." He considers this for a moment, and continues, "Seeing as we only have a limited amount of funds, we need to be careful how we use them. Caltrops would be the best way to discourage pursuit, if need be."
He turns to the Venture Captain Brackett, and asks, "Do you know of any friendly citizens in Falcon's Hallow who would be sympathetic to the cause of the fey?"
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The pale half-elf clears his throat, stands, and nods to the Venture Captain and his fellow Pathfinders before speaking, his voice soft but melodious.
“We are travelling at the Nymph Queen’s invitation – can we then expect a warm welcome from the local fey, or has the situation deteriorated enough that this may prove unlikely? Also, does the society have any details of this plague – and whether it affects humanoids or just the fair folk? Should we take precautions against contracting the disease?”
Aldred waits politely for a response, silently hoping that the questions were reasonable, and not the sort of thing that Pathfinder field agents should be expected to figure out for themselves. He is acutely conscious that he has not yet had a chance to introduce himself to the others here, but figures that this briefing is not the time or place – plenty of time to get to know each other on the journey up-river.
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When Fog begins to draw his scimitar, Brackett cuts him off, "Listen, we are definitely NOT looking for a bloodbath here. The Consortium has near 200 mercenaries on payroll. Most of them guard the cutyards, but there are plenty back at the Hollow any time. We're looking for a little finesse here, but we put together the best team we could on short notice to handle this situation. If it comes to the point that you need to draw that against the Lumber Consortium, I suggest you get the hell out of town. Get to Syntira and see what you can do on her end." He stops to think for a moment, "In fact, I'm going to have the boat drop you off away from the Hollow a little closer to the cutyard. That way Payday and his men don't have a chance to head you off if they were inclined to do...
Fog grins a broken toothed grin, "No breaking heads that will cause the society trouble. Got it."
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Kayluss gives a quizical look at Sek's overy eager interst at the disease but it shifts to a freindly smile at the alchemist's greating. At Alie's suggestions he nods I'd be willing to toss in a few coins for some of that stuff, Sekherme would you be able to whip those up if we payed for the material?
Kayluss jumps a little as the half-elf, who he had forgotten was even there stands and asks his questions.
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Brackett leans back and laughs at Fog's amendment, "You get the idea. I think you'll do just fine. No, we don't have a point of contact there. Too far out in the sticks. I figure you'll suss things out quick enough."
"As far as the Queen's welcome goes, they never would have contacted us if they weren't desperate. Just make sure they don't mistake you for loggers."
"Telfyr reckons the outbreak is palepox. High fever, then the white sores. Start out around the mouth and soon enough they're everywhere. Person just withers up and dies in a few days. The Fair Folk are extremely vulnerable for some reason, but it can and has jumped over to other races in the past. It isn't much kinder to us. Maybe a little alchemy or magic might do something to ward it off."
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"Kayluss, I would be more than happy to produce some anti-plague shots for you, but unfortunately, perfection takes time; I doubt that I would be able to make enough before we arrived at our destination."
He then smiles.
"Of course, I can still direct you to a supplier or two I know of who should have some in stock..."
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The basin is said to have been crafted by a dryad in the days when humans first ventured into the fey territory of Darkmoon Vale. Isandrea created the cursed birch basin to wipe the humans out of the Valley. The curse turned on her though and in the end was more deadly to the fey than mortals. The birch basin is carved with intricate detail and has a sculpture of a naked woman rising from the center. The jar she holds continually fills the basin with crystal clear water. Anyone unlucky enough to drink the water quickly falls victim the palepox.
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Thinking about the basin, Alie recalls a factoid she once heard concerning abou it. "Everyone, about Isandrea's basin: The basin is said to have been crafted by a dryad in the days when humans first ventured into the fey territory of Darkmoon Vale. Isandrea created the cursed birch basin to wipe the humans out of the Valley. The curse turned on her though and in the end was more deadly to the fey than mortals. The birch basin is carved with intricate detail and has a sculpture of a naked woman rising from the center. The jar she holds continually fills the basin with crystal clear water. Anyone unlucky enough to drink the water quickly falls victim the palepox. So let's not toast heach other from it, if we find it."
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"Hmmm, I have heard Palepox hasn't been seen in the last twenty five years or so. Back then one of the Consortium scouts had come home with it and both he and his wife died within a week. No one was permitted to tend to them and their shack was burned to the ground before it could spread. So perhaps this scout had found the basin at that time."
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Kayluss, Fog, & Aldred:
Sometime later that evening each of you in turn drop by a local blacksmith who is your appointed contact with Colson Maldris and the Eagle Knights. After you manage to work into conversation the phrase to identify yourself, he nods and slides a note folded and sealed with signet of Maldris across his well worn counter while rattling off prices and new stock.
The Note
Alie:
Early before dawn the next morning a familiar halfling knocks at the door and offers to attend Alie as she readies for the trip. Neatly tucked inside the towel she has brought is a folded and sealed note from the Baron.
The Note
Wadi:
The Note
Sekhemre:
The note
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Just before dawn the next morning the team assembles at the river docks in the chill half-light of mid spring. Almas is uncharacteristically peaceful at such an early hour, streets empty save a stray cat or dog here or there and those few headed to set up the fish and farmer's markets. The smell of fresh bread and sweets drift out of river front bakery- the only lit building on the strip.
The riverboat's Captain welcomes you aboard and those of you who might have had grander ideas about the boat are quickly disappointed. It is one long narrow open deck with barrels of tradegoods lashed together down the center. There is a very small cabin in the rear which is both the captain's quarters and a makeshift kitchen. More barrels are lashed together in the Captain's quarters. The eight man crew are transporting flour, sugar, iron ingots, whiskey, and other valuable trade goods to the remote community up the river and would be returning with furs, and darkwood lumber. As it was the small boat offered little in the way of comfort, but you were lucky to be traveling in the spring with the southern winds. Most of the year this same trip of four days was an arduous twenty day journey powered by rowing, poling, and sometimes dragging the boat by lines from ashore.
The first couple of nights the crew anchors the boat and some of them make camp with you on land while the others sleep on mats on the deck. As you get further from civilization, they opt to drop anchor in the river and sleep crowded on the deck. The Captain sleeps onboard regardless. The trip passes more or less without incident and early the fifth morning they drop you all on the bank at a rocky outcropping marked on your map. Fulch's cutyard should be about an hours walk from here.
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The morning light is severely muted under the ancient canopy, and an eerie mist blankets the damp forest floor. The path eventually opens on a rough man made clearing and you realize with some alarm that an unnatural hush has settled on the forest. No birds sing. No squirrels scamper around the branches above. Thick darkwood stumps cover the ground and the scent of sawdust lingers in the air.
Two rows of tents line a central path strewn with abandoned axes, saws, chains, and coils of rope. Moving into the oddly silent cutyard a terrified scream shatters the silence, and it quickly becomes a chorus of mens' startled screams and shouts. From the far side of the camp you can clearly hear canvas ripping and the men's screams quickly rise into panic.
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“My name is Aldred,” the pale half-elf introduces himself once the briefing is complete. “I grew up here in Andoran, perhaps part of the reason I was assigned to this mission.”
“I have heard a little of Syntira and the fey of Darkmoon Vale. The dryad queen has lived in the region for a very long time – when the Dwarf nations that preceded human settlement in the area were first established, Syntira was already there. It is said she’s a direct emissary of the lords of the First World. She certainly preaches diplomacy with her neighbours, but not all of the fey in the area are so civil, and they may not be as welcoming to us … and perhaps with good reason from their point of view. The headmaster of this cutyard we are heading to, a man named Fuchs, has a kill-on-site policy when it comes to the fair folk. He sounds like a charming fellow.” The last is added with more than a hint of sarcasm.
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Aldred starts at the sound of the screams. His first instinct is to rush into the clearing to see how he can help – but he has no illusions about his skills if it comes to a fight, and instead moves in quietly, slipping his sword from his scabbard as he goes, trying to remain unseen himself while seeing what help he can be; unfortuantely he doesn't account for the bark chips and broken twigs scattered around the cutyard, and his movement is not near as stealthy as he had hoped.
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Tent flaps fly open and loggers pour out nearly trampling each other in their haste to get out. They break into a run down the center path, but when they see those of you on the path or near it they freeze uncertain and veer off through the stumps.
Those of you closer to the center of the clearing can't help but smell the rot of death lingering around the cutyard.