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A Pathfinder Society Scenario designed for levels 7-11.
A call from some of the Pathfinder Society's most esteemed leaders brings the PCs to a small town in Lastwall. While their mission to retrieve a relic of the Shining Crusade from a cathedral guarded by a fearsome beast seems straightforward—if extremely hazardous—interested parties from the nearby orc nation of Belkzen and beyond have their own plans that may not align with the PCs' own. Will the Pathfinders survive the deadly onslaught of a territorial guardian, or will they play into the hands of even more sinister forces?
Contents in Reaver's Roar also contribute directly to the ongoing storyline of the Silver Crusade faction.
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Venture-Captain Shevar Besnik leans against the wall of a private room in the Dryad’s Blessing Inn. With him is Ollysta Zadrian, dressed in gleaming full plate bearing the holy symbol of Sarenrae. She waits for everyone to get settled before reciting a brief prayer. Her eyes are serious, but she wears a slight smile on her face. Shevar Besnik speaks first. “I’d like to begin by thanking you all for being here. The mission we have for you will be dangerous, but it is vitally important to the people of Lastwall and the Pathfinder Society. However, I am not the one coordinating this mission. For those of you who do not already know her, allow me to present Ollysta Zadrian, leader of the Silver Crusade, and the second-most intimidating Sarenite I’ve ever known.”
Ollysta places her helmet on the table. “Thank you, Shevar. Pathfinders, welcome to Three Pine’s Ford. We need you to recover an object from an ancient and most holy temple, the Bastion of Light. The relic in question is a helmet that rests somewhere within the temple, likely within a fountain. The Bastion of Light lies in the village of Roslar’s Coffer, northwest of here. The village is small, but its people are strong and friendly.”
Ollysta pauses to close her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she says, “The Bastion was a beautiful place used by Sarenite clerics during the Shining Crusade. They devised incredible rituals and brought many crusaders back from the brink of undeath. The helmet that we ask you to recover may have belonged to a powerful captain of the Shining Crusade, but unfortunately our histories have shed little light on its owner’s identity.”
Ollysta begins to pace in front of the table, “There is a complication. The Bastion of Light was claimed some eleven years ago by a creature known as a red reaver. The beast guards the Bastion fiercely and has killed or chased off all other would-be heroes, looters, and soldiers who have approached it. Please exercise caution, Pathfinders. The red reaver has become stronger every year, and it will not hesitate to kill you. Recover the helmet, and find a way to rid Roslar’s Coffer of the red reaver. Another Pathfinder in the area named Gorm Greathammer has been studying the Shining Crusade and knows more.”
Ki'lala walks pass the high ranking Paladin with indifference and tries to find enough space to lay down.
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Horacio smiles and nods to his faction leader, his red dragonhide breastplate and Mithral shield gleaming with recent polish. He removes his helmet to reveal a pale skinned aging Crusader with a well kept white beard.
He speaks in a deep boomy voice "Ollysta, I am honored by my assignment to this mission. I will do my best to cleanse Roslar's Coffer with the Red Reaver with the power of Iomedae's purifying flames."
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Aeris listens intently as the venture-captain gives his briefing, a slight smile quirking up one side of his mouth as Besnik describes Zadrian. I’d be curious to meet the most intimidating Sarenite – I don’t think it’s the older fellow who’ll be on this mission with us, from the look of him.
With the briefing complete, Aeris takes a moment to introduce himself to the other Pathfinders on his team, having never worked with any of them, "Hello. I am Aeris, servant of Milani, and freedom." He might easily be taken for a tall, slender human. However, what first appears to be an elaborately-cut cloak on his back is revealed, on closer inspection, to be a pair of large wings tucked flat. Mostly a dark, smoky grey in color, with touches of crimson, the wings extend from about the level of his ears down to where the tips just brush the floor. His hair, longish and swept back from his face, is of the same dark grey as his wings.
After a quick scan of the room, he stands watchful and still, his head occasionally turning with an abrupt motion, then freezing in a new position, like a raptor scanning for prey. His face is narrow, with large, alert, amber eyes and a hooked nose, giving him a strangely birdlike appearance in keeping with his wings. He carries a long, beautifully-made bow behind his left shoulder, and a longsword and morningstar ride at his hip.
Having given the briefing some thought, Aeris asks further questions, ”Does this red reaver not come out of the Bastion? The creature does not trouble the town? How has it become stronger if it does not venture forth to eat?”
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"Oooh, freedom is good! I likes freedom. You is pretty, I likes your feathers!" The speaker addresses Aeris. She is a statuesque half-orc woman, though she lacks the bestial features of most of her race. She does not lack for scars or tattoos however.
"The Holy Mama has feathers too! She is very beeeooo-teeful. See, look, here is her face!" The half-orc beams with joy as she displays an iron symbol.
"I has got some feathers, look!" She displays a ruff of feathers, taken from multiple birds and other feathered creatures, worn around her neck above her mithril breastplate.
"I is called Nana Grilka! I helps the babies come. Is any of you girls what is having a baby? Is any of you boys what is wanting to make a baby? I has made..." Nana counts off on her fingers..."eight babies! I is very good at it!"
Nana reclines in the arms of a large ape-like creature. The ape wears studded leather and a spiked collar. He carries a strange saddle over his shoulder (clearly not intended to be worn by him), and drapes one arm protectively around Nana.
"This is Kernuffle." Nana explains.
Then you notice the hooves. Both Nana and Kernuffle have cloven hooves.
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“The red reaver was already a fearsome beast when it arrived in Roslar’s Coffer, but I suspect that it has developed a bond with some of the crusaders’ ritual sites and relics within the Bastion of Light. You would do well to see if you can sever that connection, but take care to not harm the things you find there. Though it has been abandoned for some time, it is still a holy place and we are eager to restore it once the reaver is removed.” says Shevar.
Ollysta says, “There are many stories about the helmet, but unfortunately none of them can be verified. Some say the helmet belonged to a powerful captain of the Shining Crusade who fell in battle before the end of the war. Others say it belonged to a soldier corrupted by the Whispering Tyrant. Some even claim that the helmet was gifted to Arazni by Sarenrae herself. There are even more outlandish tales as well. The helmet is at the very least unique and sacred, but it could also be very powerful.”
Greetings, Pathfinders,
Please take great care as you search the Bastion of Light.
This holy place must be preserved for the people of Roslar’s
Coffer, worshippers of Sarenrae, and all good and just beings
in this world. I expect that you will take particular care to
avoid any undue damage to the artifacts within the Bastion.
Should you encounter anyone or anything else within that
place, take heed that you do not judge too quickly. The
Dawnflower’s light can shine upon any being willing to receive
it. The Silver Crusade keeps you in its thoughts. Be brave,
bold, and compassionate.
—Ollysta Zadrian
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"This Reaver fella sounds like baaaad news alright. You did right by putting this team together. We'll get the job done!"
Truk is obviously a half-orc but wears his orcish blood well. His tusks are small, dulled, and only slightly poke out from under his bottom lip and his ears are only mildly pointed. His skin is a greyish-olive that contrasts well with the cropped dark hair along the top of his head. He wears a short well-kept beard on his chin. What elements of his orcish parentage that are absent from his facial features are plainly visible in his tall form and broad powerful physique. He's largely unarmed but clad in a suit of perfectly-fitted heavy plate armor.
"Will Mister Greathammer be expectin' us?"
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"I would expect that Gorm Greathammer is waiting for you, as he has been in contact with us." Ollysta replies.
"“The red reaver was already a fearsome beast when it arrived in Roslar’s Coffer, but I suspect that it has developed a bond with some of the crusaders’ ritual sites and relics within the Bastion of Light. You would do well to see if you can sever that connection, but take care to not harm the things you find there. Though it has been abandoned for some time, it is still a holy place and we are eager to restore it once the reaver is removed.” answers Ollysta.
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Bo hears the conversation around him, but he tunes it out. Clearly overwhelmed by all the information, the human gives up on trying to recall anything of merit. Instead, he tries to focus on The Path. It has been his sole, guiding focus for most of his life. How will this challenge strengthen me and my resolve? Why has this obstacle been placed before me at this time? Perhaps as the lake fish to the eagle, this 'reaver' has always been there, but only now reveals itself.
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A worshipper of Lamashtu joining us on this mission? And I thought I was beyond being surprised at who chooses to join the Society... Aeris gives Nana Grilka a friendly enough nod, responding, "Without freedom, what do we really have?" As the priestess displays her trophy necklace of feathers, Aeris tucks his wings a little more tightly behind him and takes a half step back, saying, "I believe you have a fine collection of feathers there, with no need to add to it, right? And no, I've no interest in having a child - they're just another form of tyranny."
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"Without freedom, what do we really have?"
Nana looks puzzled for a moment, then happy as Aeris 'compliments' her feather ruff.
"I've no interest in having a child - they're just another form of tyranny."
"Oh you isn't doing it right then. You needs a Nana! Nana's help the babies come."
"Any more questions?"
"Does you want to make a baby?"
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"No, I have never visited the Gloomspires," Aeris responds, still keeping his feathers well clear of Nana. "I simply oppose tyranny in all forms, and would be hard-pressed to do that while raising children. Also, I think we've got something else we're being asked to work on, other than making babies."
Ki'lala, who had just finally gets comfortable and gives a low growl before getting up. She stretches and yawns, before coming over to nudge Rufeo, nearly knocking the Halfling over.
She then walks out ahead of Rufeo
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Venture-Captain Shevar Besnick looks a little dumbfounded as the team starts getting up to leave. ”Don’t you want to know how to get there? Or what other dangers might be waiting for you?”
Ollysta Zadrian looks at him and says, ”They are experienced Pathfinders. I am sure that if they needed directions, or mounts, they would have asked.”
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Shevar steps in to answer this question. “You will travel up the Tourondel River. Roslar’s Coffer is some one hundred and fifty miles northwest of here. Arrangements have been made to provide you with safe transport upriver via boat or horse, your choice. You should reach the village within three days if you set a steady pace. Sooner if I get you the really good horses.” Shevar delivers the last sentence with a sardonic smirk.
"Nana, if Kernuffle will cause trouble with your horses, or the boats, then perhaps he should be put in your purse. Though I am unsure how that will happen."
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Not certain what to make of this new development, the monk looks around at the others, then behind him to make certain who Nana is speaking to. "Do you not hear? Boat or horse. We are not staying in a cabin." He slowly steps away from the cleric. Then under his breath "And I don't want to make a baby. It sounds uncomfortable."
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One bird-like eyebrow lifts a bit higher on Aeris' face as Nana suggests putting the large, collared ape-thing in her purse, but he chooses not to pursue the question, as the Lamashtan will almost certainly bring the conversation around to making babies. At the moment, Bo seems to be the focus of her attention on that question, best leave it that way.
"Travel by boat suits me fine," he weighs in, turning his attention to the venture-captain. "And since you mention it, could you tell us what other dangers might await us, on the journey there or once we arrive at Roslar's Coffer?"
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Ollysta answers Aeris, “Shevar tells me that there are reports of orcs in the area. We suspect they are part of the Twisted Nail tribe, so avoid them if possible. Any noise is likely to draw the attention of the red reaver. We suspect that the orcs are there to coerce the red reaver to ally with them. Though it is unlikely that they would succeed in negotiating with the beast, their shamans may be able to twist its mind to their whims."
Shevar asks, "So, you would prefer boats? Sad, because I did procure very good horses."
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Aeris rolls his large, amber eyes ever so slightly before responding to the venture-captain, "If you'd rather we take your fine horses, we'll do so. My preference would be for whatever means of travel gets us there most promptly and safely." Turning to the other Pathfinders, he asks, "Anyone have strong feelings on the matter? A fear of horses or a phobia about riverboats?"
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"Boats is best! I is Captain! Kernuffle is First Mate! Bo is Cabin Boy! That means you comes to the Captain's cabin when she calls you Bo!
I knows about orc shamans! I is married to one. If he is still alive that is. He went off on a quest. Then second shaman tried to take me to wife, but I didn't like 'im so I chopped off 'is head wiv me chopper! We wasn't Twisted Nail though."
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The boat ride is uneventful.
The village of Roslar’s Coffer lies ahead. Along the shore of the river stands the busy but quiet fishery. Several abandoned buildings on the edge of the town are adorned with red ribbons, most worn and stained with time. Very little in the village appears to be recently built, and many houses appear to be in disrepair. Interspersed amongst the ribbon-adorned trees and buildings, hand-painted signs dot the roadways and alleys warning travelers to go no farther.
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The monk leaps over the rail and on to the docks before the boat even reaches the mooring. He shudders as he recalls the voyage. It was all I could do to keep Nana at bay. The things she says are not appropriate for MEN, let alone any kind of 'cabin' boy. Still, the archer was able to survive without becoming spiritually...or physically, compromised.
As he waits for the others to disembark he looks around the area.