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"Maybe we should talk with Nigel?" suggest Prisim.
"As the guards have stopped attacking, presumably he'll be back soon to see what state the place is in."
Then she asks "Umm how can you be the first daughter for generations? At least with us gnomes, we need daughters to, well, have the next generation."
Medda shoots Anok a scolding glare before explaining. “An evening’s child is one who realizes and expresses their true identity later in life. I am an evening’s daughter because when I was born, my tribe mistook me for a male child. My connection to our ancestral spirits has helped me transform in body, not just soul. As you are strangers, I would rather leave it at that.” Anok pales to a rosy hue before muttering an apology: “I misspoke, Medda. I forget that few are as open as I am about one’s past lives.”
Medda nods to her companions who begin to gather their things. As she turns her back, the chandelier crashes to the floor. Atop the wreckage a Devil appears!
none
- Bold May Act!
Garrett
Prisim
Devil
Sieran
Urktar
Devonalia
Samildanach
he growls at his sudden blindness
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The crowd of guards, onlookers, and concerned citizens outside the Blakros Museum quiets as Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin approaches a woman clad in furs exiting the museum. "My Pathfinder agents tell me that you are Medda of the Twinhorn following, is that correct?"
"Yes, I speak for the following." Medda glares at Nigel Aldain, "I have come to reclaim what is rightfully ours. His agents stole our most sacred relic after we refused to sell it. We have traveled through dangerous lands to claim it back, and still he refused—"
"My agents claim they bought it," Nigel protests. "I’m not going to just give it to you because you stomp into my office demanding priceless artifacts."
Valsin interjects, "Nigel, let us listen to her story and decide how to proceed. Medda, tell us about this relic. Why is it so important to you?"
Medda takes a deep breath. "Over 900 years ago, a powerful warrior named Ivvora came into our camp. She spoke of an angel named Vildeis who guided her hunt for a great dark evil she called Eshimka. Several of our scouts had recently disappeared, later found ripped into pieces. The elders insisted that we help banish this evil and ensure the safety of our following. They laid a trap for the evil spirit, luring it to our sacred standing stones on the winter solstice. There, Ivvora and the great dark evil, Eshimka, fought a mighty battle that raged for hours. Just as the night was darkest, Ivvora dealt Eshimka a telling blow, digging her dagger deep into its flesh. The creature tried to escape, but it only snapped off the blade and then collapsed on the center stone. The elders finished their ritual and destroyed it completely.
"Ivvora rested with us for the winter before departing to eradicate more evil from the world, but not before leaving us the hilt of her weapon." Medda withdraws a bundle of bloody cloth from her bag, then unwraps it to reveal a small hilt with a bloody fragment of black metal. "She told us to bring the hilt back to the standing stones every year at the winter solstice to keep evil away. We’ve had to travel for so long to retrieve the hilt, I’m afraid we won’t make it back in time for the solstice. Please, let me leave now."
Ambrus Valsin contemplates Medda’s story for a moment, then nods, his brow furrowed. "Nigel, you should send for the Blakros agents who ‘obtained’ the hilt and hear what they have to say. Medda, I’m going to send as many Pathfinder agents as you deem necessary to travel with you and your following. I want to ensure we return this relic to its proper place." Nigel starts to protest, but Valsin cuts him off. "Nigel, you wanted my help; you are getting it. I’m helping you fix a mistake your agents made. As for your museum," Valsin takes a moment to survey the heavily damaged museum, "I’m told most of the damage was done by your own security, not Medda and her following.
"Pathfinders, prepare to head north to the Realm of the Mammoth Lords."
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Medda and Ambrus Valsin discuss long into the night how the Society might help the Twinhorn following. By the morning they have concluded that while teleportation magic might take the Kellids and Pathfinders as far as Lastwall, Medda insists that Ivvora’s hilt has lost some of its spiritual strength since being stolen. She believes the only way to restore its power is to walk the same path that Ivvora took into the Twinhorn’s land after the Shining Crusade—and that path leads straight through the Hold of Belkzen, an unforgiving land controlled by orcs!
Society mages gather to transport small groups at a time to Lastwall, and from there, the convoy of Kellids, Pathfinders, and supply wagons set off north. For all their brutal reputation, the orcs have become somewhat more welcoming of caravans at the urging of Grask Uldeth, one of the strongest orc chieftains and the ruler of the de facto capital Urgir. Those who stop at the Table of Ralock can purchase safe passage in the form of special tokens from tribal representatives. It remains to be seen whether the Pathfinders can secure enough.
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Listening to Medda's explanation, Samildanach scowls slightly at Prisim before they are gladly interrupted by Valsin and Nigel's appearance. As the tale continues, the Half-orc can't help but roll his eyes, so much for a simple meal and a bit of a test! Taking the time to rest and clean his gear, the Pirate is up early and ready to be transported to Belkzen.
"Ahh the famous Orc-Lands, well I always wanted to see it once, let us hope it won't be so short eh?" he laughs, drawing shield and Trident preparing himself for the journey ahead.
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"My goodness but this is a Shelyn deserted land. These folk would so benefit from some of her teaching. Starting with the importance of bathing!"
The little gnome can't help but feel rather overwhelmed by the hoard of massive creatures, any one of which would be able to pick her up and break her like a china doll.
Urgir, capital of Belkzen, land of the orcs, is a dusty city composed of a discordant combination of crumbling dwarven architecture and rickety shelters. Medda has asked that everyone try and obtain tribal tokens, which allow safe passage through Belkzen and protection from the orc tribes. She has purchased as many tribal tokens as she can with gold but still needs more to have enough for her following warriors and the Pathfinders.
The first Orc the party learns of is Blenta of the Storm-Screamers of Rull. Found in the beast pits, Blenta is trying to train a particularly independent gorthek.
Prisim quickly realizes Blenta will be inpressed by helping with her gorthek. Prisim's assistance is successful and Blenta grants you a tribal token.
The next Orc you find is Borbus of the Cleft Hand. Bored with Urgir, Borbus is looking for some quality entertainment that isn’t just violence.
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Seiran seeing that the Orc is looking for another form of entertainment decides to try his best at performing an unfinished song he started but has yet to finish.
A ballad and a surprisingly deep baritone about a traveller seeking acceptance from his own true love only to discover that she has long passed on.
Borbus is impressed with Seiran and grants you his Tribel token... with a small smile even.
The next Orc you find is Bukog of the Steel Eaters. Though the Steel Eaters are supposed to be the best metalsmiths in all the clans, Bukog is having trouble impressing his peers.
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"I don't know how to make swords, but I do know a thing or two about making traps. Perhaps you could impress your fellow metal smiths with some of these designs.." suggests Prisim.
Although from her badly bruised fingers and the glare of the orc, she perhaps realises that he thinks her traps are more dangerous to the setter than the victim.
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Urktar leans in close to his fellow adventurers. "Bert says you don't actually have to do something well in order to make others believe that you've done well. A well-told story or lie could go a long way to help his reputation." The group is then treated to yet another smile from Urktar that is more disturbing than reassuring, despite his best efforts. "Waitaminute, Bert! Does that mean you didn't shatter that adamantine weapon for Riptide? How else did you get that notch?"
Bukog is extremely unimpressed with Prisim... he is in the process of tossing her out of town when Sieran gets his attention. Bukog is extremely impressed with the half-orc's analysis of the aerated Kukri and thanks him for the idea... and hands a tribal token over.
The next Orc leader you find is Gekgaro of the Broken Spine tribe. Sent by his Broken Spine brethren to Urgir to trade for maps and supplies, Gekgaro is having a difficult time finding a hospitable place for his tribe to camp for the winter.
with Prisim's aid, Urktar is able to provide enough helpful advice to win Gekgaro's tribal token and thanks.
The next Orc the party comes accross is the Graffa of the Burning Suns. Always looking to improve herself, Graffa is training on an obstacle course of her own design. She knows that competition brings out the best in her and is looking for someone to race.
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Having traveled for more than a week through the harsh lands of Belkzen, the Twinhorn warriors grow excited as they come within a few days’ travel of their homeland.
As the sun dips behind the Smokespur mountains, the sound of drums start to echo off the rocky canyon walls, starting slowly at first, but quickly increasing in pace. Medda turns from her lead position in the caravan and shouts “Look out! Ambush!”
The drumming continues as a boulder hurtles from the mountain and lands on the lead wagon, sending splinters flying in all directions. Clouds of dust billow off the mountainside as dozens of orcs surge from the foothills and chant to the beat of the drums. Arrows and boulders begin to rain from the slopes.
Medda calls out, “Pathfinders, someone is willing to risk Uldeth’s ire by attacking us! I need some of you to meet their vanguard, others to guard the caravan, and a third group to take out their archers.”
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Bidding the Orc city farewell, Samildanach begins the unforgiving march towards their destination with eyes pierced and ears open. Suddenly they are peppered with arrows and boulders, the largest of which smashing the lead wagon, which he happened to be near. Growling at the assault, for theseOrcs must be even more savage than normal, Samildanach raises his shield to protect himself from the arrows as he rushes to his companions, his deep voice ahouting clear of the commotion with practiced ease.
"My friends, I suggest we lead an assault, though whether we climb to deal with archers or rush to meet their Vanguard I know not." the Half-Orc says levelly, "Where too?"
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Prisim too renews her mage armor.
"Lead on. The Silver Crusade will not be daunted!" calls out the brightly coloured gnome. She shoots rays of rainbow light from her hands as she joins in the charge.
The small gnome seems somehow more vibrant and alive than normal, as if her presence was bolstered by something else.
She quickly asks "Does anyone want to be made ogre size for this battle? If we are facing them head on it may be helpful..."
The party prepares for battle.
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"A small gal like me can easily make the two of you big." smiles Prisim.
"Celestial blessings of biggedness" she shouts loudly, tapping Urktar with her delicate little hand. The orc blood starts to grow... Then a moment later she steps back and says "Ahh.. Blazing Holy Enlargments!" as he gives Sam a friendly slap and he too starts to grow.
A mass of orcs and their monstrous allies charges down the foothills. Remnants of an ancient dwarven outpost provide cover and an obstacle in their path; it is the most defensible position from which to confront the enemy vanguard.
Urktar - Enlarge, Heroism
Samildanach - Enlarge, Stoneskin
Seiran - Shield
- Bold May Act!
Sam
Orc Sergeant
Sieran
Devonalia
Urktar
Garrett
Coyotes
Prisim
Orcs
The Orc Sergeant pulls a potion and drinks it while the party surverys their options.
Urktar - Enlarge, Heroism
Samildanach - Enlarge, Barkskin
Seiran - Shield
- Bold May Act!
Orc Sergeant
Sam
Sieran
Devonalia
Urktar
Garrett
Coyotes
Prisim
Orcs