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"Oh, that went quite well didn't it?" Corona remarks brightly, putting her wand away as it's no longer needed. "But that's to be expected when you have folks like New Friends Zarnel and Sangkip and Friend 575 around," she beams, her eyes linger on Zarnel for a little longer than the others.
"And um, I'm fine, New Friend Medda," Corona adds. "I..." she stops, giving her head a shake. "Weird...there's that thing again. Um, anyway, yes, we'd be happy to help you get your missing dagger back! I'm sure Mister Aldain will be happy to hand it back after we tell him about everything that's happened, right?"
As this is happening, the kitsune takes Medda up on her promise of more answers. "So, this dagger...what is the story behind it and the owner, Ivvora? And the great evil they fought, what do you know of that?"
"Maybe now isn't the best time; it could be a long story. More's the better in that regard. It's just, this potential wealth of new knowledge...very interesting."
“Who was Ivorra?!” Anok stands tall, his phantom cloak whipping out as he turns to you, sadness showing in his eyes. “She was a scourge against evil, a true friend, a dwarf, and a devotee of Vildeis. Choose your own answer. As for Medda,” Anok proudly announces, “She is the guardian of Ivvora’s hilt, passed from keeper to keeper for generations—or for her, from parent to child. She is the first evening’s daughter in decades,” he boasts, earning him a withering look from Medda before he adds, “And it is she who can sense and wield the hilt’s power properly.”
Medda nods, “It is bound to me.” She grasps the hilt tightly, then her eyes begin to glow with a brilliant white light as her scars begin to seep thin rivulets of blood. “Does that answer your question?” she asks Draklor, gently.
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"Incredible." Zarnel's hand performs that familiar ritual gesture as if on its own; he seemingly unaware that he'd done it, as he stares enraptured at Medda's display of faith.
When the blood stops seeping from her scars, he snaps out of his reverie and looks a bit confusedly between Anok and Medda. "Evening's Daughter? That is not a term from the liturgy of Vildeis. Is it a tribal phrase?"
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.”
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Medda studies the ratfolk briefly. Despite her newly earned trust, it seems there are still some secrets that she is somewhat not quite ready to share too explicitly. She nonetheless shares as sincerely as she can."The rituals involved are too much to get into here. Suffice to say that it the critical piece our tribe needs to stop untold evil from spilling into our planes." Anok adds on here with much belligerence. "Removing it was a very foolish move of this Nigel of yours!"
Medda sighs and looks on at Anok. "I believe I speak for this brave warriors that they do not condone what he has done. I hope, however, that the damage done is still reparable." She sighs with worry. "Come, it is time to confront the instigator behind all this mess. We can discuss further along the way. Please, lead on."
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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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“My Pathfinder allies, thank you for bringing us much needed support,” says Medda, the Twinhorn following’s spiritual leader. She stands beside Anok, her phantom and constant companion. “After the orc ambush sapped our supplies and strength, we pushed north to our winter home. We are only hours away from the stone circle and our encampment—if we are going to make it there by midnight, we need to press on. Once there, we will use Ivvora’s hilt to perform our time-honored ritual and keep evil from our lands.” Medda produces the small hilt of a broken weapon with only a fragment of its black metal blade remaining. “Let us move. There are dangers in these ancient woods: orc raiders, bears that topple trees, and worse. Stay in groups and don’t get lost.”
As the Kellids and Pathfinders reach the top of the hill next to the Twinhorn encampment, they notice splashes of blood and the occasional corpse dotting the landscape. Medda raises her voice, calling, “My brethren, our families are under attack! Secure the camp and drive back any who oppose you. Pathfinder allies, join us in defense of our home!” The landscape opens into a burned hillside where blackened trees stand like lifeless sentinels. A crude blockade shields the entrance to a natural cavern.
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The march north is long and arduous. Countless oppositions stand in the way, including hordes of Belkzen orcs, but the large Pathfinder expedition force barreled through them, eventually reaching the northern lands known as the Realm of the Mammoth Lords. But there was no time for repose - the Pathfinders are needed to save the day!
With Medda's call, the Pathfinders surge forward towards the cavern. A horde of undead surround the entrance, battering at the hapharzardly set up barricades. When the undead attacked, some of the Twinhorn members must have retreated to this nearby cave and constructed the barrier. It seems they’ve been able to hold off the undead for the last several hours, but the barricade is about to collapse.
A winged, human-like creature with thick muscles and jutting bones first notice and turn towards you, following shortly after by four other walking corpses, their flesh rotting off their bones.
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"That's good to know, thank you," Draklor responds. As Corona, Medda, and Anok discuss Nigel, he scoffs lightly. "I've been lucky, in that this is my first mission to here. But no Pathfinder hasn't heard the horror stories!"
"One of my friends got sent in there to rescue a Blakros child. When his team fought their way through the exhibits, they finally found her. Sadly, she got possessed by some entity and they had to beat her senseless too to save her, before she could kill everyone."
Draklor is not very surprised to see a small horde of undead bearing down on the assembly. "Time to explore, report, and cooperate," he chuckles. "And what Pathfinder doesn't know how best to destroy a zombie? Carve 'em up!"
"Those flighty fiends are necrocrafts. Not the greatest in the air, and nothing we need worry too much about."
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575 is eager to be away from the city, though he seems to get more nervous the closer they get to the Twinhorn's encampment and the portal they had closed on the previous solstice.
Evil locked away
Trying to escape once more
Will it remember?
The sight of the undead creatures assaulting the camp once more, seems to draw him from his funk, and he moves to the fray, happy to have something more tangible to distract him, though wishing he'd hung on to the undead bane dagger from the previous trip.
Again evil wakes
Lifeless foes assault us all
Should have kept the knife
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Draklor knows that the necrocraft has no special attacks nor special defences. As for the zombies, they flail their arms about to slam into their targets with some level of accuracy and damage. Corona knows more - that their rotting flesh provides some resistance to weapons that are not slashing, and that they are slow in acting .
Draklor starts an inspiring oration, pointing to his teammates how best to tackle the undeads. 575 and Sangkip move up towards the undead. Chou does similar after affixing a device on her face.
Seeing live targets that are more easily accessible, the mindless undeads turn and swarm towards the Pathfinders. The zombies move slowly and don't get far. The winged necrocraft, however, takes into the air and despite its clumsy flight, lands right in front of 575.
"Brains..." the undeads intone, hungry for a snack.
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575 instinctively dodges as the necrocraft comes flying clumsily into range. He knows he saw one of these before, though can't recall what he learned back then... so is glad for Draklor and Corono's information!
Though the zombies' moaning chant disturbs him a bit.
A diet of brains
Is not proper nutrition
I'm not a food group
He forgoes the dagger for now, shifting quickly to the side, and bringing one scaled fist around to the side of the creature's head, then using the momentum from that blow to spin around and bring one heavily booted foot flying towards the same location, before it has time to recover.
, for damage.
, for damage.
, for an additional damage.
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Chou, Zarnel and Corona all rush into the midst of the battle, although Corona lags behind quite a bit. Sangkip calls forth an orb of acid, throwing it right into the chest of the rightmost zombie. It dissolves a chunk ribs off, but the zombie does not seem to notice.
The horde of zombies, oblivious that one of theirs have been destroyed, continue shambling forward. Draklor flings a dagger at the nearest as their approach, but its strikes the zombie pommel first and falls onto the floor. Three of the zombies swarm around 575, while the injured one steps forward towards Sangkip. It swings its club-like arm at him, but the attack is clumsy and the vanara easily side-steps away.
All the while, they call out,
"Brains brains brains brains brains
Brains brains brains brains brains brains brains
Brains brains brains brains brains..."
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Sangkip slashes at the zombie in front of him, managing to slice off a chunk of its shoulder. Zarnel comes forward with a much larger weapon, and chops the undead right in half!
Meanwhile on the other side of the battlefield, Chou, through the facial mask, breathes out a cone of fire, engulfing three of the zombies, although one directly behind is partially shielded. 575 swings mightily with his small dagger, cleaving off the heads of not one but two zombies in one strike, demonstrating that it is not the size of the weapon that matters but how you use it. Draklor moves into battle, chopping into the last remaining zombie.
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Corona jabs her spear into the zombie. The piercing attack is less effective due to the doughy flesh of the creature, but still does some damage. Sangkip moves up to finish the job, cutting down the zombie.
When the last undead is cut down, the Twinhorn Kellids trapped in the cave slowly emerge, first led by a handful of fatigued warriors, followed by womenfolk, still bravely shielding the young children amongst them. An elderly but hale-looking woman approaches the group, flanked by two of the warrior. ”My name is Myolar. Thank you for your help. We would likely not have survived if not for your timely arrival. Please, come with us to the main encampment. You might wish to speak with our leaders. Unliving creatures have been pouring from a portal at the stone circle since nightfall! We need your help to hold back the tide of undead and find a way to close the portal.”
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Medda, accompanied by her ever-vigilant Anok, surge ahead of you with a team of Kellid warriors back to the large encampment. Random sounds of battle drift to you from various directions. While the Kellid warriors split up to head towards them, Medda and Anok make a beeline for a large tent near the centre of the encampment, where presumably the other elders are located. You follow along, and enter shortly after her.
The thick hide walls of this large tent muffle the sounds of battle outside. Iron spikes pin down an enormous map in the center of the tent. Wooden carvings of warriors and monsters lie strewn about the map, marking the location of fighting warriors and the encroaching undead.
Even though she was only ahead of you by a few minutes, Medda is already arguing intently with two other Kellids, one a tall and massive man, the other an elderly but still hale-looking woman.
Medda is looking more worked up that you've encountered thus far. "You’re asking us to abandon our sacred duty after all these years! A Kellid warrior stands by his word or is nothing!”
“Aye, I’d have us abandon this lunacy!” Another man proclaims as you enter. He is a towering man, standing a head taller than most men. He is broad-shouldered and sturdily built, wearing the cloak of dire polar bear. The many scars on his body suggest a life of physical conflict and perseverance. His physical presence dominated the tent as he paces back and forth. “The dagger has returned too late! You were not here when the hordes of undeads broke through from the portal! But it is not too late to retreat before our tribe is exterminated! We have dutifully served this dagger's spirit for hundreds of years but it is time to leave. Before the Twinhorn tribe is no more!” Medda appears shaken by this argument and mutters under her breath, "Is the situation so dire?"
In addition to Medda, Anok the phantom, and the towering man, there is a fourth person in this room. An old woman with plenty of scars of her own, is calmly listening to the arguments while she fletches arrows. She has to bring the arrows close to her face as she fletches, but her ears are turned towards the conversation. You almost miss her at first with her small size and quiet demeanour. But as you study her longer, her tranquil nature is commanding in its own right. With tanned and wrinkled skin, white hair cut short, and a weathered longbow by her side, there is an intense focus about the old woman, and the other two leaders keep darting glances her way, as if waiting for her to weigh in.
Then the old woman looks up with clouded eyes at the tent flap opening where you are gathered. Squinting at the sun in her face, she asks with a quavering voice, “Are you the warriors that Medda told us about? If so, I am pleased to meet you, and hear your wisdom. I am Jala the Patient. This bear in human form is Kragr Bloodhand. You already know Medda." She pauses to finish fletching the arrow at hand. "Speak. I would hear what you have to say."
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Corona looks around the cramped tent and whispers to her companions, "Um...I'll go try and find out more about what's going on from New Friend Medda, okay? Maybe that'll help us figure out the best things to say."
With that, Corona sidles up to the troubled-looking woman and clears her throat. "Um, New Friend Medda? Why's there an argument about whether to leave or not? I thought that all of your Twinhorn friends felt the same about the dagger and guarding this place. Do some of them not worship Vildeis?"
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"Good idea, Draklor's messaged voice whispers in the ears of the team. "I'll try to chat up this nice-looking articulate bear. I think I already have an idea of what I'll say, let's see how receptive he is."
He then engages Kragr in conversation, trying to figure out what makes him tick. "Well met, Mister...Bloodhand. My name is Draklor. I think I see where you're coming from on this debate. But before I make my case, could I trouble you to elaborate a bit on the situation?"
As he listens, the kitsune looks to pick up cues and information from the large man.
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Chou approaches Medda timidly.
She carefully removes her alchemical items from her cheek, allowing her to speak more clearly, and then tugs at Medda's shirt to get her attention.
"Miss Medda? So uh... 'till today I never met a Paladin of Vildeis, but today I've met 2! Really cool! Anyways... so uh, you seem really nice and all, and I know that you're code says that you should sacrifice for the greater good... but my friends and I will make sure you don't have to!"
She gives a timid smile. "So uh... are these guys your friends?"
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As Draklor listens intently to the big bear of a man, Zarnel approaches the conversation and waits politely until they're done.
"Kragr Bloodhand, we have not met. I am Zarnel," he pauses for a split second, "Paladin of Vildeis."
He offers Kragr his hand for a warrior's shake.
"Would you abandon your solemn vows to Vildeis and Ivorra so easily? SHE teaches us that 'Family is a rare refuge from the evils of the world, but it cannot keep us from our cause. We must not favor our own family over other innocents.'" He speaks the last sentences solemnly, quoting from Vildeis' holy works and Her own Paladin's Code.
"What incredible sacrifices were your ancestors willing to make in that first battle? What the Twinhorn following has done these many centuries has protected countless innocents throughout the Inner Sea. Your following was certainly chosen by Vildeis and Ivorra for its strength and honor. Now, it is time for you to live up to that again."
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575 approaches the venerable warrior woman, giving her a respectful bow, unsure why the leaders are so reluctant to aid, given there success the previous solstice.
He tries to determine if there are things he is not aware of that are causing her hesitation.
Once again we meet
And once again you have doubts
Has something changed?
Many of us come
To close the portal once more
All working as one
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Sangkip sits back for a moment to think. Big stupid guys named Bloodhand only get to be in a position of influence if they're not that stupid. Or if they're really famous for something they've done. And big stupid guys named Bloodhand are always reallly proud of their victories. Bloodhand... Bloodhand...
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"Um, New Friend Medda? Why's there an argument about whether to leave or not? I thought that all of your Twinhorn friends felt the same about the dagger and guarding this place. Do some of them not worship Vildeis?"
Medda glares at Kragr, although tinged with some worry. "No, not all honor Vildeis. The Twinhorn tribe has been in existence long before we crossed path with Ivvora. When our tribe subsequently took up the mantle to guard against the return of the undead, many also then took up the worship of Vildeis. Many still retained the old ways, worshipping Desna or Gorum." From her tone, she shows a clear bias towards Vildeis and Desna. "But whomever we individually worshipped, as a tribe, we had always kept our promise to Ivvora. It seems now, however, that the promise might lead to the demise of our tribe," The confidence that you saw in Medda back in Absalom has clearly been shaken. While Medda is speaking, the other two council members listen to her words closely, as if they put great weight to the words of guardian on Ivvora's dagger.
"Well met, Mister...Bloodhand. My name is Draklor. I think I see where you're coming from on this debate. But before I make my case, could I trouble you to elaborate a bit on the situation?"
Even as Draklor is approaching, he can see the towering Kellid looking with approval at the similarly well-built 575 and Zarnel. Instead, he looks down upon the slightly built kitsune with some skeptism, but eventually responds after studying Draklor briefly. "A few hours ago, without the dagger and our rituals to stop it, a massive portal opened down at the standing stones. Since then, undeads monsters of all kinds have been pouring out. Our warriors have fought bravely but our forces are scattered and demoralised. That Medda have returned with the dagger is good, but it is already too late. If we do not rally our tribe and pull back, there will not be a Twinhorn tribe the next morn!" Turning to Medda and Jala, he intones, "Honor and courage is my core, and to propose this is not easy for me. But the survival of the tribe must come first!" He sounds somewhat defensive here, knowing that fleeing appears to be a cowardly act, but not wanting that to besmirch his courage.
"Miss Medda? So uh... 'till today I never met a Paladin of Vildeis, but today I've met 2! Really cool! Anyways... so uh, you seem really nice and all, and I know that you're code says that you should sacrifice for the greater good... but my friends and I will make sure you don't have to!"
Medda's face lights up and she grasps the small ratkin's hands, smiling in gratitude. "Of course, friend Chou Wei. Thank you for the reminder! We have yet another servant of Vildeis here!" Meddda gestures towards Zarnel. "If the dagger had not been stolen, our paths would not have crossed, and his blade would not have come joined us in this battle. In fact, I bring back not just him, but the entire troop of Pathfinders, eager to fight on our side. I have seen them in battle, and together with them, we can push back the undead invasion and complete the ritual!" Medda turns to look at the other two council members, looking very much inspired now. Her confidence seems to also sway them somewhat, as they turn to study the Pathfinders more closely.
"What incredible sacrifices were your ancestors willing to make in that first battle? What the Twinhorn following has done these many centuries has protected countless innocents throughout the Inner Sea. Your following was certainly chosen by Vildeis and Ivorra for its strength and honor. Now, it is time for you to live up to that again."
Zarnel seizes this opportunity to speak with Kragr. Clearly, Kragr is already admiring the physical built of the warrior, but hearing that he is a paladin of Vildeis makes him even more impressed. He grasps his hand and gives a firm handshake in return. "The honor is mine," he responds sincerely when Zarnel introduces himself. However, he grows increasingly troubled as Zarnel recounts what courageous and selfless acts of his forebears, reminding him that he has failed to live up to that. However, he puts up some final resistance. "Yes, but this time it is different. The dagger is here too late. In the past, with the dagger by our side, we could push back before the portal manage to disgorge too many of the monsters. This time... this time, there are just too many." Kragr's voice starts wavering here, and he realises how cowardly those words sound. He pulls himself up again, and adds on, "A sacrifice must still be meaningful."
Once again we meet
And once again you have doubts
Has something changed?Many of us come
To close the portal once more
All working as one
Jala has been keeping quiet all this while, carefully studying the interaction between the Pathfinders and the other two council members, occasionally nodding and shaking her head almost imperceptibly. As 575 approaches, she turns to study him with a half smile. She gives him a respectful bow. "I would have remembered if I have personally met a nagaji like you. But on the other hand, I do have a strange sense of deja vu about this. Perhaps some meetings are destined. But enough of that. You wish to convince the Twinhorns to stay and fight. Why should we?"
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"That's the spirit," Corona beams, patting Medda on the shoulder as she seems to regain her confidence. "We can do it! And with you standing strong I'm sure we can talk the others into standing with us, too."
Before she turns away to go and speak with one of the other council members, Corona pauses for a moment to whisper to Chou Wei, "Good job, New Friend! I think what you said really helped New Friend Medda out. Sometimes it's nice to know that you're not alone."
With Medda having, as best as she can tell, been brought around, Corona pauses to consider which council member to approach next. She glances at Kragr and for a moment has a strange sensation, another surge of deja vu and...anger?
That's really really weird...it feels like I chewed him out good and proper already...
Shaking her head, she decides to leave Kragr to Zarnel and 575, who seemed to have been making a good impression on him so far. Instead, she approaches the quiet and observant Jala.
"Hello, New Friend Jala! I'm Corona, one of Medda's Pathfinder friends," she introduces herself, though the last part might be a little unnecessary. "You've been really quiet while everyone else has been talking and yelling...and yelling some more. What do you think about all of this? Do you feel super strongly about Vildeis and the promise the tribe made to Ivvora?"
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"You've been really quiet while everyone else has been talking and yelling...and yelling some more. What do you think about all of this? Do you feel super strongly about Vildeis and the promise the tribe made to Ivvora?"
Jala nods politely to Corona. "Certainly, one should always study the situation, consider all points of view before coming to a decision." She glances over at the other two council members with slightly pursed lips. "As for our promise, that has been the commitment of of our tribe for many generations. In many ways, it is what gives our tribe identity. To abandon that could mean the end of what it means to be a Twinhorn." Pausing here briefly as she looks between Medda and Kragr, she continues somewhat wryly. "But a physical extinction of the tribe would end the tribe much more surely."