Running the new introductory scenario for some friends.
The invitation delivered last night was remarkably simple, especially given the importance of the occasion: “Start where it all began. Meet us at the Pig’s Paunch one hour before dawn.”
The Pig’s Paunch is a run-down building with a faded sign of a large pig standing on its hind legs, arms folded above a corpulent belly. Inside, the air is thick with the scents of human sweat, stale tobacco, and leftover food. In the center of the room, surrounded by inebriates sleeping off their revelries, a familiar elven man stands high upon top of a large round table.
“Welcome! Welcome, my students! Please, have a seat!” With that, Kreighton Shaine, the Pathfinder Society’s Master of Scrolls, nimbly drops down to sit cross-legged on the table before looking about the tavern with a sense of reverent wonder. If he is at all bothered by the sleepy hour, he shows no sign of it-- his eyes are bright and alert, if somewhat distracted. “Can you believe it? It all started here years ago—well, over four hundred of them at least. Under this very roof the Pathfinder Society was born...
“But today! Today you will begin your Confirmation! Master Farabellus, Master Zey, and I all agree you each have shown your worth and dedication to the Society, so there’s no better time to see if you can handle becoming full field operatives. Allow me to introduce you to Janira Gavix,” he says as he motions for an excitable halfling woman to approach. She wears a large backpack and carries all manner of tools, pouches, and scroll cases around her waist. Shaine continues, saying, “Janira here will be going with you on your Confirmation. She was one of my brightest pupils and will no doubt be an invaluable resource on your journey, for she discovered the caves you are about to explore during her own Confirmation.”
Janira speaks up in an enthusiastic and cheerful voice, “Greetings, aspiring Pathfinders! Why don't you tell me a bit about yourselves?"
The young man half stands, an easy, cheerful smile coming to his face. "I'm Consequence Jones. I suppose I'll be your healer and necromancer."
And then he sits, mentally counting the seconds until the inevitable question.
Emery looks between them. She straightens up.
"Emery Baliol." she says. "I do a lot of things well. But I'm best at singing." She winks.
The fourth chap at your table, an also-young, dark-haired man with a few scars on his face and his feet resting on the table, offers a cheerful nod around the table and gives a jaunty salute with two fingers.
"Valeros is the name. Like Kardok here, I'm at my best in a scuffle."
Beat.
"--did you say necromancer?" he asks of Consequence, with a blink.
Janira chuckles from her position at the end of the table. (Kreighton doesn't appear to be paying the introductions much heed at all-- the elf is staring fixedly at a guttering lamp sconce on the wall, his expression miles distant.)
"They do say Pathfinders come from every walk of life," Janira grins.
- seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy - ah.
Consequence shrugs, still smiling amiably. "I did. Everyone can be of use, after all."
"You're awfully....cheerful. For a necromancer." Emery comments. "And wearing an awful lot....colors and things. Is it a...family profession or something?"
"Oh, no, I'm the first in the family. The black cloaks and ravens and glooming around don't actually do anything - they're just for fashion, and they get a bit tedious after a while."
He gives Kardok an interested look. "Scrimshaw as in the scribing on ivory? We could just call you by that name, if you prefer it."
"Scrimshaw. Consequence. Valeros. Jania. Emery." Emery repeats, in a kind of chant. [b] "A good name list for a cast of characters. We'll have to work to do it justice." She grins
Valeros chuckles and runs a hand through his dark hair. "Perhaps these will be the names of famous Pathfinders some day, eh? I hope so!"
Janira, the halfling, smiles encouragingly. "Perhaps! With a bit of luck-- and daring-- each of you will join the ranks of the famous Pathfinders who are published in the Chronicles. To that end..."
She rummages in one of her backpacks and produces several thin journals, and paper-wrapped sticks of charcoal, which she passes around. "As you all know, one of the three primary tenets of the Pathfinder Society is to 'report'. So each of you can use these to write down your field notes, during your mission! Which means I should-- get to the mission, shouldn't I? Master Shaine, did you want to explain, or should I..."
The halfling trails off as she realizes Kreighton Shaine is floating off towards the pub's door-- quite literally; the elf's feet are sort of drifting along the ground. "...erm. Right. Guess it's up to me, then.
"So... six months ago, I was mapping cave entrances in the foothills of the Kortos Mounts, right here on our very island. I saw something odd: a lone gillman entering a concealed cave. I thought little of it at the time, but I saw another one enter the cave again a month later. A few days later, after I completed my assigned task, I entered the cave system, but was unable to find the gillmen.
"Initiates, for your Confirmation, you will travel to these caves to explore and document its many passages. Additionally, and most importantly, you are to learn what the gillmen are up to in there. Oh, and you need to come back alive as well," Janira says with a chuckle.
"I'll be guiding you to the caves, but after that you're on your own. Any questions?"
Emery throws Scrimshaw a sideways glance, rolling a corner of her lips between her teeth to avoid smirking
"Hm." she says "I think I was wondering something along the same lines. but...Perhaps I would phrase my inquiry more like 'What is a Gillman and is it going to want to kill me?' Personally. In fact, if Scrimshaw hadn't brought the topic up I might have left killing out all together. Silly me."
She looks at Janira now "Are they dangerous?"
Valeros laughs appreciatively at Scrimshaw's straightforwardness, but Janira clears her throat less approvingly.
"Gillmen are humanoids, about your size, except that they live in the water, and they have gills like a fish, on the side of the neck. Supposedly, they're all that's left of the old Azlanti, when the cataclysm struck-- the survivors took to the waves, or so go the stories. They're secretive, and don't deal much with land-dwellers, but they're not outright hostile, or evil. It's strange for them to leave the sea and come onto land, though. As for how you kill 'em... a blade through the belly works as well as it does for most things, I imagine. I've never had reason to fight a gillman."
Valeros raises his hand, and Janira looks to him. "Yes?"
"I've got a question-- is Master Kreighton always so, uh...."
The halfling looks wry. "I suppose you haven't studied much under him, have you, as a warrior. Master Kreighton is... brilliant, but he does have his, um, his eccentricities."
(The elf in question has wandered out the tavern without another word.)
"Any other questions?" Janira asks. "I see you've got your gear, ready to go. It'll take us two days to get there... Master Kreighton believes the full moon may have something to do with why the gillmen are headed to the caves, so we're going to try and hoof it there in time for the moon."
"In that case, I hope we won't either," she says, "Is there anything else that we need to know? Anything that might help us keep relations...cordial?"
Emery tilts her head. She glances after Kreighton, but as he is being discussed she takes out one of her sticks of charcoal, opens to a page and jots down "Notes on Gillmen"
She earmarks the page and wraps the charcoal back up when the question is answered and she has taken everything down.
"I would say we should bring them a present. Fish or something. But it wouldn't keep for a two day walk and who wants to smell fish for two days."
She gathers her things and shifts forward to stand up when everyone is ready.
He murmurs his thanks for the journal, and immediately heads the first page with the date, location, weather and list of those present, all in a tiny, meticulously tidy print. The questions, who addled them, and the answers follow. Now he glances up.
"Were they carrying anything? From what direction were they headed - do you have any thoughts on what they were doing before they went into the cave? And is their religion centered on the moon and tides, they being aquatic? Also, are they comfortable in both salt and fresh water?"
He pauses, and another thought occurs to him. "Are we going to be able to communicate with them? What languages do they usually speak?"
Once all the questions were done and written, he stands and swings his pack on his back.
Janira smiles at Consequence's careful list of questions.
"I don't remember them carrying anything... but I was some distance away. As for what direction-- from the south, so I presume they came from the coast and just headed inland until they reached the cave mouth. I can't say as I know, about their religion-- maybe you'll have a chance to find out! That would make an exciting report-- and yes, they can live in both salt and fresh water."
The halfling purses her lips thoughtfully. "I think some of them speak Common. I've heard of them conducting trade in such, anyway."
Valeros has no questions for your guide, so the halfling beams and gets to her feet. "If you need to do any shopping before we leave the city, now's the time.. some of the shops should be open, at least."
Sadly, Consequence, your studies never covered Gillmen... Emery, you're vaguely aware that Mount Kortos stands at the rough geographical center of the island, but can't think of anything else that's immediately relevant.
"I have all I need," Valeros says with a laugh, and a pat at the sword at his side. "Let us be off!"
Janira nods encouragingly. "Well, then-- let's off! The road doesn't wait for dawn!"
The aspiring Pathfinders leave the tavern following the halfling. The eastern sky is starting to lighten, and shopkeepers are bustling blearily about opening their stores, but the streets are still fairly empty. Janira seems to delight in the crisp morning air, swinging her limbs freely and keeping up a steady stream of chatter about the various adventures she's had that have started just like this.
Your group leaves Absalom behind and begins to follow the road that leads subtly uphill, away from sea level and towards the foothills and then the mountains beyond. Ever so often Janira pauses to point out certain landmarks-- the arching spires of the Starstone Cathedral, visible at the heart of the city, and, outside the city's walls, the remnants of the many massive siege towers that have assaulted Absalom over the years, and remain broken as testament to the strength of the city's defenses.
As you proceed along the road, the outskirts of the city give way to farms, and the farms to increasingly hilly and treed terrain. By the time you stop at noon to stretch tired legs, drink deeply from your waterskins, and eat some of the food from your packs, the city is like a child's toy well below you.
Despite her relatively short legs, Janira has no trouble keeping up with you, and is still chipper and unwinded. She refills her own canteen from a stream, and suggests each of you do the same.
"One thing I've learned-- eat every time you have the chance, and refill your waterskin too! You never know when the next opportunity comes," Janira chirps.
Valeros empties his canteen over his head, then refills it at the stream. "Hot day," he complains good-naturedly.
While the sun is bright, the air is cooler here in the foothills, and everything smells of pine and earth.
Valeros is too busy refilling his canteen to notice anything.
Emery points. <b> "Look. Someone's been here recently." </b> she says.
Consequence takes Janira's advice to heart and drinks deeply, then refills his canteen with fresh water. He stands and admires the city - it seems impossible that mere distance could make something so big and complicated look so small and delicate - and is so lost in thought that he nearly misses what the others are saying.
"Hm?"
Scrimshaw, aside from the tracks, the forest seems empty of anyone but you and your teammates.
Janira peers over curiously at Emery's words, then beams.
"Good eyes, you two!" she says to Emery and Scrimshaw. "You're right, someone has been here recently... looks like horse hooves to me. Or," and she taps the side of her nose with a finger, "could be centaurs, too. They're known to inhabit the regions around Mount Kortos.
"That's a big part of why we're on foot, and not riding-- the centaurs see horseback riding as cruel and oppressive. So we're respecting their customs by staying on foot!" the halfling chirps. "It's useful for Pathfinders to learn all about local customs."
Valeros smirks. "I like learning about local ales..."
"Well, that's a valid method of cultural exchange," Janira answers as she shoulders her pack again. "Anyway! Let's get moving, the sun won't stay up forever!"
Janira whistles a cheerful song as she takes the lead on the trail again. Valeros shrugs and follows, keeping one hand casually on the hilt of his sword.
"Um. Should we be worried about the hoof prints, then?" Emery asks, glancing at them again as she gets up to follow as well.
Consequence eyes the hoof prints with great interest, trailing after the others. Centaurs are satisfyingly exotic, after all.
"Is there any difference between centaur and horse prints? They - no, I guess there wouldn't be much difference in weight." Too many questions are crowding his head. He will have to jot them down for later.
" - are there any other customs we should know about, if there's a chance we might run into them?"
Janira sets out at a quick clip again, despite her short legs.
"Centaurs aren't inherently hostile to the bipedal races, no. They distrust humans, and other species who have domesticated horses, but they don't tend to attack them on sight, either. They despise minotaurs, and the local centaur tribe are known to have an ongoing war with the minotaurs that dwell high up on Mount Kortos. Prints are indistinguishable from regular horses, sorry! Centaurs get on best with elves, both species having a strong respect for the natural world. They are proud warriors, but also renowned for their command of the healing arts," the halfling chatters, seeming to never run out of breath no matter how fast her legs move.
"Do they drink?" Valeros asks hopefully, and Janira gives him a glance that is somewhere in the vague vicinity of 'chiding'.
"...you have a rather... focused.... mind, don't you, Valeros?" she asks. The warrior shrugs with an easy smile.
"Just curious..."
The sun climbs higher, and the group of Pathfinders continues to trek higher through the hills. The trees get bigger, the air cooler-- it's still warm in the sun, but crisp in the shade-- and the city of Absalom gets smaller as you hike.
Janira lets the group take breaks every hour or so to drink water. As the late afternoon light starts to deepen, she holds up her hand for another stop and hops up onto a rock.
"Alright! We've got enough daylight left to find a good campsite, I think. I'll see how you do, picking one. Impress me!" the halfling grins, and gestures around at the wilderness.
