Jol covers a large area as if it were several large towns grown together. Its people seem to be a hardy folk accustomed to harsh conditions and unruly barbarians and pathfinders that are both.
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Davoliznakamushka seems unusually comfortable in the northern clime. Exhausted from days of riding from south, he buys a haunch of meat for is riding dog and heads to the local mead-hall.
He strolls in the door and announces the party.
He whispers to the party. "I'm explaining to the party we're looking for giants. Have a drink."
He spends 5 gp on mead (at 5 cp a round ~ 100 drinks)
The Ulfen pick up the gnome and halfling upon their shoulders as they parade their generous benefactors around the hall. They toast in their named, sharing mead and meat with the canines in equal quantity. Unfortunately no one seems to know much about any giantess. The only talk of her is possibly about how she would look, unclothed with much lewd gesturing. Though there is talk about the unusual weather. Normally the wind comes out of the north this time of year, but these days it seems to be flowing from the south and the east. Also there are stories of the wind blowing from two different directions three days ago. The real useful information the two vertically challenged party members gather is that there is a sage who lives in the hills just outside Jol.
The two short-folk wisely drunk-ride their way out of Jol without telling anyone else where they were going. The sage's home is a small log cabin with a thatched roof. The smell of freshly baked bread greets the two drunks.
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Between tales from his Mistress and having seen her suitors firsthand, Brom knew a good deal about the Northerner's love for merriment. The hulking Orc remains silent as he drinks and eats his fill, enough to fulfill social obligations but well within his capacity to maintain his senses. When Davo departs, Brom follows. His Mistress wouldn't be pleased if such an important patron came to harm under his watch.
When one of the trio eventually knock on the door, a tall thin man answers the door. He is not what one could consider a looker, with his overlarge features—ears, chin, and nose. But there is a sense of warmness from a man who voluntarily lives the life of a hermit. He blinks his eyes a bit at the sight of a drunk gnome, drunk halfling and a drunk half-orc. "Can I help you?"
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"Certainly my good sir. We've heard you were a local authority in matters for giants and weather; well, the person we heard it from was hiccup slightly inebriated to it was a bit unclear on which one you were the expert on. Nevertheless, you are the expert. We are from regions far south, and have come to engage your faculties of lore, in particular regarding the activities of certain warlike giants who may have been facilitating tribes to engage in targeted tactical attacks against a cloud giant sage to the South. I hope that I have ennumerated enough details for you."
The drunk gnome manages to get all of his words out in a 20 second rush. He stops and stares expectantly at the sage.
"Please, come inside." He says welcoming you into his house, a homey place crammed with books, scrolls, and manuscripts. "Would you like some tea? Or something to eat? I just finished baking a loaf of bread."
"I don't know much about them, but I can do some research for you if you wish. It will take a few days though."
"Thedan Nammas." He heads to his pantry and brings back a pot of tea and some cups for those partaking. Once he pours the tea, he retrieves freshly sliced bread as well. "Well like I mentioned I know little about giant attacks. I've been researching this strange weather lately. Very intriguing."
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Davo brightens. "Well, the particular giantess we seek is called the *hiccup* Storm Queen. One must assume that the namesake taken by the creature is not an idle title, but rather indicative if some inherent or acquired power related to the manipulation or creation of weather cells. Indeed, if one were to assume we lived in some sort of narrative driven artificial universe, one might think your weather research and our quest was manufactured artifically by external agents to collide. But of course, such thoughts are nothing but a philosopher's diversion. Let us praise lady Desna for these coincidences. Have you ascertained a position for the source of the weather, or do you have any additional useful bits of lore regarding its behavoir *hiccup*"
"That does sound a bit absurd. But I believe that the strange weather is linked to a sort of ritual keyed to a mysterious jewel called the orb beyond. The orb beyond is a large gem from another world tied metaphysically to the spirits of those who have died wrongly but whose names are now forgotten by all remaining alive. Called the Pale Ones, these are the hungry, angry spirits of those who cannot be avenged, but forever seek vengeance. The orb slips from world to world of its own volition, enabling the creation of doorways through which the Pale Ones can travel. To use it, one need not be a spellcaster. However, the orb beyond is drawn only to those who seek revenge. The ritual in question, tears a hole in the world. It is a process without finesse, and it must be done in a locale with some significance to the creator. I believes that because the weather is being disrupted, the hole is high in the sky. However, I do not know if this is linked to this Storm Queen."
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Dora, having finished her bread and tea and sneaking some of Davo's while he is talking...looks around for more to eat until she hears the bit about clouds.
"I always wanted to go to a cloud castle. I have heard stories of rainbow colored pegasai flying to and from such places, and well that always sounded so wonderful...oh sorry, I think I got carried away in the moment. So about this orb...is it said to be sentient? Are there creatures that follow or seek to control it? "
"The orb itself is not sentient as far as I know. Well in the meantime I can do some research. Maybe come back in two days and I should have something."
"Thedan. I don't know of anyone with a magic carpet available or the other two. I believe there may be some Linnorm up north but they are not friendly."
So you head back to Jol....
The next day, a bizarre storm comes out of nowhere. Dark clouds gather rapidly and fill the sky. Amid fierce winds and frequently lightning strikes, it begins to rain—but what falls isn’t water. What falls from the sky is a strange reddish gelatinous goo that comes down in fist-sized clumps. It’s soft enough that it doesn’t inflict any real damage, although people struck by the goo report feeling a little ill—they tell of immediate muscle aches and a general feeling of sluggishness. After just 30 seconds or so, the rain turns to real water.
You notice that the 'red rain' is slowly moving across the streets and coming together to form larger clumps of goo.
All the oozes creep forward or start engulfing a helpless civilian.