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Cornelia quietly eats her biscuits with a smile as the eccentric Sir Dydimus goes on his tangent about doppelgangers and apple biscuits. She nods her agreement with purchasing a wand to assist with the heat, at which point she notices something... "Hotspur, I noticed that you have not touched the biscuits, nor the cider. Are you not tempted by the delicious smells?" She grins and winks at Ethendril...
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Ethendril smiles at Olga's bravado.
"I don't recall you not keeping up last time, nor do I recall being old...at least, not quite yet."
Turning back to the subject of their mission, Ethendril looks lost in thought for a moment.
"I have some old friends that I might look up before we head out...they may have some information that will prove useful," the paladin says.
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Cornelia and Ethendril know/find out:
- 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.
- Most of the larger mining operations belong to the Deeptreasure Mining Company, which has dominated the local industry for nearly three centuries. Their one-time competitors, the Gold Crown Company, are now better known for shipping and export services.
- Deeptreasure agents are always on the lookout for independent miners, whom they bully away from promising claims. A Deeptreasure representative in Fort Bandu is offering a bounty for information regarding any promising unoccupied (or ill-defended) mines.
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"Hotspur, I noticed that you have not touched the biscuits, nor the cider. Are you not tempted by the delicious smells?"
"Yes, delicious, hrmmm. Unfortunately, I ate just before I got here," she says loudly enough to almost drown out the rumbling of her empty stomach.
And then after listening to the information gathered, Hotspur has renewed fire in her eyes. "A bunch of bully colonialists subjugating the locals and exploiting the area's natural resource to satiate the never-ending hunger of the capitalist beast?! Good thing I stocked up on extra ammo."
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Sorry Guys! calls Sir Didimus when he returns, I was going to ask around about the place with the stuff and whatnot but I saw these boots and I just had to have them! Aren't they awesome! And they perfectly match my hat!
The boots definitely match his jaunty cap and even are adorned with blue feather, identical the his hat.
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After returning from obtaining information, Ethendril says "I believe I have obtained all the information I can. It would probably be best that we head out at once," he adds.
The looks at his companions as they admire Sir Dydimus' new boots. "The boots are dashing, as is the wearer," the paladin says kindly.
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Nothing else? Then let's move on...
You 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.
Previous knowledge checks let you know that 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 soldiers that struggle to maintain a balance of defense of the frontier and protection for the miners and traders within its walls.
As you arrive in Fort Bandu the atmosphere is noticeably tense. Cold stares and accusing looks greet you.
The garrison guards demand that you state your business. You explain the situation and mention Aya Allahe's name. At that, a member of the guard escorts you to Praetor Sylien's office. It's 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.
On the way to the praetor's office, merchants refuse to open their stalls to you and lay blame on the Pathfinder Society for the “troubles of late.” These traders are fairly tight-lipped, too.
The Preator is gray haired and has weather beaten features. He carries himself with the pride and stature of a man half his age with seemingly infinite patience.
Praetor Sylien is in mid-conversation with a lanky Garundi man in fine attire. Their conversation stops abruptly, and the praetor’s guest disdainful glares at the latest arrivals. “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.”
“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.
“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.”
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Greeting I am Sir Dydimus of Eastgate, the halfling says with his customary bow, making sure to show off his new boots, Honorable Praetor, and Agent Valacosti, it is greatly disturbing to me and my companions that such hardships have befallen you due to the actions of one of our fellow Pathfinders. We were dispatched here to locate Venture-Captain Sharrowsmith and bring him home, but hearing your plight we also offer our services in rectifying this most egregious situation. Whether you wish to end this Kobold problem with decisive victory in honorable combat or though peaceful negotiations we are at your service. Sir Dydimus gives his audience another bow.
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Cornelia frowns at the rather rude reception they receive at Fort Bandu. She keeps her eyes on everyone as they are escorted into the Praetor's office. She listens intently as Fort Bandu's plight is laid out before them. While listening her gaze passes over Valacosti and the maps laid out around the room. Her hand rests upon Sir Dydimus' shoulder as he introduces himself and offers their services to Praetor Sylien. "My lords." She offers a polite, courtly curtsy. "I am Cornelia of House d'Malheur. Firstly, let me apologize profusely for the hardships that you and your people have suffered on the Society's account. I am with the good Sir Dydimus in pledging my services to help aid your people in whatever way we can. Please, I implore you. Allow us to remedy this dire situation."
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Ethendril bows deeply; he seems at ease in the halls of nobility and diplomats.
"I am Ethendril of house h'Caramore, and a paladin of Iomedae. You have inquired as to our mission here, and have correctly guessed that our primary task is to seek after one of our own. Nevertheless, I pledge my every effort to protect this settlement, and if a Pathfinder has inadvertently kicked up a hornet's nest, I assure you that we will remedy this situation."
The earnestness in the paladin's eyes makes it clear that the paladin will see this through to the end.
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Hotspur listens gravely to Praetor Sylien's words. Her suspicious mind immediately casts the Aspis Consortium and Amersanus Valacosti in the role of the true mastermind behind these Kobold attacks. She has found her false flag operation in which Sharrowsmith is, no doubt, an unwitting pawn.
At the same time, she recognizes that the Aspis agent has subterfuge, fear, anger and time on his side, making it impossible to just wander in off the street and call him out. She considers her options, and decides the safest course of action is to begin planting the seeds of truth in a speech...
"Proud defenders of Fort Bandu, listen to my words! It is true that we came in search of Sharrowsmith, but what we have found are friends in dire need.
Aye, 'friends' -- and I do not use the word lightly. How many years has Fort Bandu stood against the encroaching wilds? How long have you provided the lone bulwark and shield to the huddled masses looking to make a new life for themselves in this beknighted land?
How long too has Sharrowsmith come amongst you and returned with new trade, new information, new prosperity?" Hotspur crosses her fingers behind her back and hopes they were on good terms with Sharrowsmith at one point.
"How long have the Pathfinders supported the brave men and women of this redoubt? Should it be a question that we come now in Bandu's time of need?" She waves off an imaginary objection. "True! True! We come searching for a friend -- but have we not found friends?! Are our goals not the same?
What has gone wrong, let us right! That is friendship. If Sharrowsmith is indeed responsible, let us make amends."
She casts a meaningful glance at Amersanus Valacosti. "But it strikes me as strange, that -- for the first time in a lifetime, that Sharrowsmith would endanger his friends at Fort Bandu. Strange that after a lifetime of exploring this land, supporting its people, and furthering the cause of knowledge that suddenly WHEN HE IS NOT HERE TO DEFEND HIMSELF AGAINST THE CHARGES... Suddenly, we hear Sharrowsmith is causing harm to the people he held so dear.
Is that the work of old friends? Or, the words of new friends? Are these the words of trusted and true allies who have lived, fought and bled for Bandu, or are they the poison words of new friends who, serpent-like, whisper in the ears of men to sow strife and division for their own gain?"
Hotspur shakes her head sadly. "No, my comrades. No! The unique friendship between the stalwarts of Bandu and the Pathfinders will remain unbreached, unexploited, unassailed -- like the unbreakable walls of this fort itself, so shall the bond between us remain unimpeachable.
The Pathfinders are here to help you. Our goals our the same. Our history in this place is the same! Let us work together in the friendship based on our shared values and sacrifice. We will get to the bottom of this. We will seek the very root of the evil that besets beautiful Bandu and we shall tear that base weed out of the garden. Noble heroes of Fort Bandu, you have heard our words -- now watch us prove them WITH ACTION!"
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Given her companions' eloquent expressions, Olga decides not to add anything further.
Valacosti grows increasingly incensed as the Pathfinders explain their 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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Hotspur shrugs at the challenge and turns on her heel. As she walks out of the tent, she says loudly enough so everyone nearby can hear: "A demonstration of force, is it?"
She slows as she passes a box of carpentry tools and picks up a hammer and a fat-headed nail. "My father was a builder. Nothing special. No castles or palaces, just houses and the odd inn."
She kicks an X in the packed earth and then paces about 30' to the nearest wooden post. "One thing he told me that I've never forgotten was this -- 'Darlin'' he said, 'When a man only has a hammer...'" She waves the hammer in the air for emphasis, "'Then everything looks like a nail.'"
With a few gentle taps, she drives the nail about halfway into the post. She examines her work and nods contentedly.
"The thing about force is that once you start resorting to the hammer first -- well, everything turns into a nail." Hotspur walks back to the X and slides her musket strap off her shoulder down her arm.
"Anyone can use hammer." She pulls a cartridge from her bandolier and pops it behind her ear. "The key thing is knowing when not to."
She throws the hammer high into the air , then snaps the musket strap, sending the gun spinning into her arms . With blinding speed she snatches the cartridge from behind her ear and rams it home -- anyone familiar with firearms will realize that she has loaded it as quickly as humanly possible for a gun of that size.
Hotspur pivots and fires on the wide nail-head from 30 feet and attempts to drive it fully into the post.
The hammer hits the ground.
She turns from the post without looking to see if she hit her mark and says, "Me? I'm more of a scientific instrument."
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HA! HA! Well done Hotspur! Sir Dydimus says applauding the show as much as possible to try and draw a larger crowd. He quickly finds a crate of large post or something on which climb up so everyone can see and hear him.
My honorable Praetor, Venture-Captain Sharrowsmith is as skilled as any Pathfinder past or present but he belonged to an older school of though with in the society. He believed that one, well trained agent, was enough for any mission. We on the other hand are students of the "new school" of thinking that emphasizes the importance of a well round group of specialists. Each one of us here has our own unique skill set that complements the skills of others in the group.
As my companion Hotspur has just demonstrated she is an expert at ranged combat! Sir Ethendril is a powerful fighter, skilled in the use of his greatsword to take down dangerous foes win melee combat! From the harsh lands of Osirion Olga brings divine magic and an giant ax to the group, providing additional combat support to our brave knight! The exceptionally well read Mistress Cornelia d'Malheur is the brains of this operation, versed in matters of arcana, dungeoneering, local customs, the planes and matters of religion. She also is our scout and trap-springer, having faced and disabled a countless number of deadly traps already in her tenure as a pathfinder.
As leader of this expedition I, SIR DYDIMUS of Eastgate, am the glue that holds this team together. With my expert combat training, both melee and ranged, I can step in to help out where needed. My ability to use arcane magic to heal my allies and hinder our foes complements Olga's magic very nicely. My keen eyes and powerful intellect are a near match for Cornelia, allowing me to aid her in scouting and research.
We will succeeded where Sharrowsmith was unable because... WE ARE THE RIGHT TEAM FOR THE JOB!
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Ethendril nods in satisfaction as his companions put on a master-class of skill. Though reluctant to demonstrate his skill in this manner, the paladin nevertheless recognizes the need to establish trust with this hesitant community.
"We go forth not just with our own power," Ethendril says, "but with a divine wind at our backs!"
Seeing nearby a rough-hewn log, he advances toward it, and with practiced form, lets his greatsword fall to cleave it in two.
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Cornelia claps at her companion's displays of prowess, though all the while pondering how she might follow suit... After a moment of listening to Dydimus' oratory she smiles and begins to gather her alchemical gear together. When her times comes and she notices so many eyes watching her, she hesitates for just a moment, but then the magical boost from Dydimus bolsters her spirit.
She begins speaking as she mixes together the components for her extract, using the time to explain her abilities. "As the good Sir Dydimus explained, my area of expertise lies not in the field of combat, but rather in the shadows watching for the moment to sneak past your guards and gain access to your weapons. I am the observant eye which misses not even the tiniest of detail. My deft hands can open most any lock placed before me, disarm many a trap." She makes sure to look the members of the audience in the eye as she continues mixing... only looking down when necessary. "I have forgotten more lore than many learned scholars can claim to have learned over their years of studying. In my studies I have learned the secret formulas of the alchemist and can use such knowledge for my benefit... Perhaps the guards I mentioned before have been alerted to a young Chelish woman of my description. You may ask, how will I get past them? Quite simple." She holds up a glowing vial for all to see before placing it to her lips and drinking down the contents. "I will not be me." Before their very eyes Cornelia suddenly begins to shrink nearly half a foot, her slender frame begins to fill out, her black hair lightening to an unremarkable shade of brown, her startling blue eyes to a dull hazel. Her clothes change to match that of the folks around her... Suddenly standing before them where the striking Cornelia once stood is a plain, average looking woman of middle age, looking so much like an everyday woman going about her business...
"Where is the young Chelish Pathfinder now? She is in your city, your halls, and your homes."
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Olga attempts two back handsprings, followed by three cartwheels, and attempts an end with a roundoff, with greataxe in hand, and final position ending with her greataxe blade 1 inch from Amersanus Valacosti’s neck, while wearing her armor.
Though her acrobatics are rather flawed, her finale is quite good.
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Cornelia offers up a sweet smile to the Aspis agent as he reluctantly acquiesces with her request. She then retreats to a nearby table, well within view of Agent Valacosti and sets the item down. She takes a few moments to examine the lock before retrieving a rolled up bundle from one of the leather pouches on her belt. She gently lays down the bundle and unrolls it to display an assortment of long, slender tools and picks. Once again she looks at the lock, then back at her tools, before selecting one and begins to work at the lock...
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“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?”
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Ethendril pauses for a moment to consider the criticism, then responds.
"It is true that we are capable of resolving situations with the sword, if required. But upon the blade of my father, Priam h' Caramore, I will never shed blood unnecessarily. Strength of arms is, and always will be, only used to defend myself and my allies. It is said that a kind word turneth aside wrath, and I believe that to be true," the paladin says sincerely.
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Still standing on his penditul he adresses the Aspis agent, but in manner clearly playing to the crowd. My dear Master Valacosti we would never use blades when words and wit would work! We have, on many occasions, diffused very hostile situations through extensive knowledge, careful observation, social decorum and intricate wordsmithing. Our last mission took us to distant Kaer Maga where we acted as emissaries to the Temple of Pharasma. Through multiple encounters we relied on our teammates's skills to resolve conflicts and pacify resistance. Our mission was heralded as a complete success by both the Temple and the Society.
While the Venture-Captains of Pathfinders train each and every one of us in combat they also instill the need for informed decision making, efficient problem solving, tact and grace in non-combat related missions. The first official mission of most new a Pathfinders in fact sends them throughout the city of Absalom to meet with influential merchants, politicians, and religious leaders. The goal of this quest is to test the new pathfinder's non-combat skills.
It is this training and experience that will ensure our teams success in endeavor!
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"I'm not one for speech-making," lies Hotspur. "I'm not eloquent like Sir Dydimus, noble like Ethendril, wise like Cornelia, or spiritual like Olga."
"I'm just a soldier and the one thing I'm really good at is killin'." Hotspur pauses to thoughtfully run her tongue over the inside of her cheek. "I don't have non-lethal bullets, and when I shoot, I shoot to kill. A weapon like this... She slides another cartridge from her bandolier and slowly reloads the gun. "A weapon likes this is a powerful responsibility. When I pull the trigger, somebody dies. A responsibility like that requires one hell of a cause."
She raises the musket above her head. "My gun has two barrels. The one on the left, I call Liberty. The one on the right -- that one's Justice. Now, some folks think they are above the law -- " She shoots a quick smile toward Valacosti, "Some folks think Liberty and Justice are ideas or dreams," Hotspur snorts derisively. "Comrades, I'm here to tell you that Liberty and Justice are for all. There ain't no place you can hide, no hole you can crawl in, no door you can bar that will save a tyrant when freedom comes a-callin'."
"Luckily, though, everyone seems to get that idea. Why, my finger barely moves toward the trigger when suddenly folks seem to see the sense in my words. Enemies become friends, and the most recalcitrant jackass happily eats sugar cubes from my hand. I guess it has to do with the nature of the gun. Folks know I can't call the bullets back -- and I won't take my word back either. If I swear that I will defend you, you can count on that. If I swaer that I will destroy you...
"Well, they say when the rift to the Abyss tore a hole into this plane, it sounded like a million demons howling at once. But here's a secret -- when the gates of Hell unlock, all you're gonna here is a click..."
Hotspur cocks the hammer on her musket with an audible CLICK.
"And you'll have about a fraction of a second for that sound to reach your ears, for the message to reach your brain, and for the fear to shoot out through your body and make your guts run cold with ice water. In that looooooooooooong second, you'll ask yourself 'Why didn't I agree to those reasonable terms'?"
"When folks hear that click, they start rethinking their life choices. They start finding my arguments -- crude and clumsy as they are -- to be a little more agreeable."
"I'm just a soldier, and I'm only really good at killing things, but somehow people just come 'round to my way of thinking. I guess it's an easy calculation to make when you're looking down the barrel of a musket. Ask yourselves, which side of Liberty and Justice do you want to be on?"
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Cornelia smiles coyly at Agent Valacosti, calling upon her knowledge of strange and esoteric things. "I could lecture on for hours about all that I know regarding the different arcane mysteries of our world, or the strange customs of the countless tribes of the Mwangi Expanse, or even the terrify Hells, or the serene heavens. Or..." She turns away from the crowd to look directly at Agent Valacosti. "Or perhaps I could lecture on about the violent and exploitative history of the Aspis Consortium? I am sure the locals would love to hear about some of the finer things with which your Consortium has had dealings. No? Another time perhaps." She smiles as she turns her back to the man to address the crowd further.
"You see, unlike Agent Valacosti, I am not so quick to lay judgement upon others simply for their associations. I will allow him to answer any questions you all may have about his associates. I simply ask that we are allowed to fix this wrong. Perhaps I can provide some of the tribes with alchemical remedies if a disease is running rampant. Or provide their Chief with an anti-toxin to combat a poisonous serpent that plagues their lands. Or even provide them with something as simple as a cream to soothe burns from overexposure to the sun. I know simple spells to heal their injuries. We are no simple warriors sent in with a violent purpose. This group was chosen specifically for this task by the Society. We truly want to help."