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The River Kingdoms is a tumultuous land of bloodthirsty bandits, treasure-laden ruins, and self-proclaimed kings, and for years it has been the subject of study for Ulisha, a curious and capable half-orc explorer.
Ulisha is a colleague of yours and you have just received a message from her that she has a proposition for you. She wants to meet you at that spot you all know about.
It sounds somewhat cryptic, but you know Ulisha is referencing a small cabin by the Dagger River that she uses as a hide out. The fact that she has been so vague, adds a bit of intrigue to her summons.
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Heff approaches the the cabin with caution and alertness.
After looking around and making sure the coast is clear he stealths to the front door. Enters and waits for everyone to arrive. Realizing he is absurdly early he makes a fire in the hearth and warms his body on this rainy dreary day.
Talking to himself Ulisha is a dear friend but surely she could pick a better location for a hideout. River Kingdoms more like rainy Kingdoms.
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After a few seconds, he throws open the door and looks around. On entering, he starts to unpack his gear. After he takes off his backpack and pouch, he, with the most distinct gentleness and care, takes off his tower shield and armor and begins to methodically clean his armor and shield with a cloth and a bar of questionable smelling soap. Only after that does he notice the hafling sitting by the fire, eyeing him with a very observant gaze
Throck decided after pondering for a while, and having a major internal debate with himself, that the halfling was not a tasty snack.
He grunts
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Sir Dwarf a pleasure to meet your acquaintance Heff is my name and yours would be? He says as he tosses the remaining strips of bacon to the dwarf.
You look hungry I thought you might just eat me for a moment. What is that you are cleaning your armor with? It certainly has a unique odor. Any way knowing Ulisha an iron-clad warrior such as your self will be a great asset. Any news of the others arrival?
He says as he starts to make what looks like his second breakfast.
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Slaine slowly approaches the indicated cabin. Having been here before on other "errands" that Ulisha had for him to do, slaine is familiar with the terrain. He sits just out of sight of the front door (apparently now off it's hinges??) but easily within a well aimed shot. Sighing, he huddles down inside the meager protection that his cloak offers him from the elements. He's been in worse, much worse, but these sorts of errand-boy jobs are growing tiresome. Although he appears elderly, his gray hair and scarred face hide the fact that he is quicker than most and his years have given him wisdom to handle most situations. Those that doubted his reflexes seldom have a second chance to test them and Slaine has no qualms about shooting the unarmed, assuming they deserved it. Most people he's paid to "obtain" have deserved it...
For now, content to gnaw on some old trail rations, Slaine keeps his vigil of the cabin. Waiting to see if friend or foe will appear.
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The rain falls upon the dirt outside a man draped in a dark cloak approaches, his hood hides his pale white face and red beard. He looks around cautiously then proceeds to enter the cabin paying close watch on the man wielding the gun. He removes his hood, and opens his mouth, he talks in a thick Scottish accent, and his blue eyes scan the room.
"Ey, you must be my fellow Pathfinders, pleasure to meet you all"
He takes a deep bow
"I am Ulric MacLagin, sellsword, assassin, mercenary, whatever puts bread on the table, and mead and mi tankard. I do hope we will get a nice body count before the day is done"
He takes the large greatsword slung on his back and props against a nearby wall which he promptly leans against.
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Throck picks up the strips of bacon and tosses them all into his mouth while listening to the halfling finish his greeting.
"Bacon is good" he says more to himself than to Heff
"Throck. That is my name, I think."
Throck, lost in his meager thoughts went back to his shield and proceeded to lie down, holding the shield tight to his bulky frame, and snored off the day's travels.
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Slaine cocks an eyebrow as the big, beefy Scot enters the cabin. This should be interesting he mutters to himself. Stretching up his lanky frame and hefting his musket to his shoulder, he pads across the open area to the cabin.
Sighing at the annoyance of social pleasantries, he shuffles through the door.
'Lo he mutters before settling down in the corner with the best angles to the door and window. while not outright rude, he doesn't seem interested in conversation. To the offer of bacon or eggs, Not had a hot meal or slept in a bed for 3 weeks. Much appreciated.
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A burly bald dwarf ambles in the front door, immediately interested in the smell of bacon and eggs.
The name's Dimble. Dimble son of Groin. Sort of a silly name, but I'd recommend you don't poke fun at it. A cook by trade, but when you're raised in a series of bars you tend to learn to look after yourself. Let's just say I enjoy a good scuffle now and then. And a pint or three at the same time.
He approaches the Halfling and makes introductions, relating that he thinks he's meeting Ulrisha here. He's known her for years, as they've shared the same watering hole in the past, 'The Drunk Skunk'.
So, what sort of spices do you use on your eggs? I find salt, pepper, and just a tich of spicy surelian pepper brings out the flavor.
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Did he say son of groin? Slaine thinks to himself. Both those dwarves look good in a fight, the Scot looks like he can take a punch well, and the halfling should make this group interesting. This is shaping up to be a good crew. Ulrisha did well. he thinks, then he then looks up at the group and gives each a nod and slight smile after catching their gazes in turn.
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Just salt and pepper good sir dwarf, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. You look like man who can smash some heads together. Well help yourselves to the food, we are just waiting on one more. It seems our mutual friend Ulisha has run into a bit of bad luck with some nobles she did leave this journal though. He says then devours his plate at dwarven pace.
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Ghirahim strides up to the cabin. He notices that the others have arrived and he instantly starts planning his amazing entrance.
He shoots off some flares to get everyone's attention. He plays a trumpet ghost sound. Then he bursts through the door and exclaims I am Ghirahim, from Kyonin and I have come to assist in your adventure to help Ulrisha, a fellow friend of mine.
In one swift movement, he takes his cloak off and puts it on the coat hanger with a deep bow to everyone. He walks over to the fire and chats with the Halfling. Is that the journal that Ulrisha left? Are you looking for anything specific inside of it and is there anyway I can help? he says as he pulls out his spellbook.
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As first to arrive, Heff indeed has found Ulisha’s journal which she left behind for you to find. While, the journal does not appear to be valuable in and of itself, nor magical; several pages are prominently marked and may ultimately prove profitable.
The excerpts are as follows:
Excerpts from Ulisha’s Journal (silverhex)
You all might be wondering exactly why I invited you here, as I mentioned in my message I have recently acquired a certain item I think you may all have an interest in. But, as you may have gathered from my absence, I’ve made a few enemies who would be all too pleased to see me leave the region—or worse. Like so many matters in the River Kingdoms, the range of thugs that might want an honest explorer dead are as diverse and numerous as the kingdoms themselves. The last several months of my time here have been exciting and perilous enough that exactly who my real enemies are is unclear. Until I can sort out the sides, I’m lying low in a nearby hideout. I should be safe there and can meet with you soon to complete our transaction. In the meantime, I left behind my journal full of profitable leads as a sign of good faith. Feel free to run them down and enjoy the spoils!
Excerpts from Ulisha’s Journal (mausoleum)
The only thing worse than working for a Galtan nobleman is working for two Galtan noblemen—in my case, Lords Tullivor and Sarvio, both of whom are happy only when the other is not. I made a tidy sum recovering their heirlooms, but when Laban Tullivor tasked me to steal a platinum chalice belonging to the Sarvios, I took my leave (and the cup), and they’ve been hounding me since. Now Laban’s deceased, and it’s rumored his mausoleum in Gralton’s cemetery harbors a treasure. I hope you’ll not balk at tomb-robbing. Remember, these are aristocrats. I say, a plague on both their houses.
Excerpts from Ulisha’s Journal (mists)
When seeking to conceal something, one’s first instinct is to choose a spot no one would think to look. Better yet, choose a locale no one would dare to go. Such was my logic after liberating a magic lantern from an anemic necromancer in Ustalav. Lest the wizard track me through its magic, I hid the lantern underneath some rocks in a stream near Cannibal’s Grove, whose own magic would disguise the lantern’s own. Now that time has passed, I’d gladly cut you in for a nice percentage of its value. All you need do is travel to the Forest of Veils in southern Varno. From there, any superstitious peasant should know the route to Cannibal’s Grove. How bad can it be?
Excerpts from Ulisha’s Journal (colony)
Different cultures’ treatment of the gods is a point of endless fascination for me. Consider the Rahadoumi and their Laws of Man, rejecting the gods despite the plagues and deserts that eat away at their lands. Others such as the Nidalese have sworn themselves entirely to one god who grants his followers power at a punishing price. The small nation of Razmiran is much like Nidal, in that the people pay homage to a most curious deity: a “Living God” who lives among his people.
Don’t be fooled by his talk of prosperity for all. The Razmiri are an underhanded lot, and I recently heard that the village of Allenstead—once staunchly against the god Razmir—had all converted to Razmir’s worship. Apparently, a priest bearing a jeweled rod recently paid Allenstead a visit and won everyone over within a day. It’s obvious that some dastardly magic is at work here, and that the priest’s golden scepter is at the crux of it all. I wonder what it’s worth?
Excerpts from Ulisha’s Journal (crash)
I may have just made a monumental discovery. While searching for an Osirian urn in an Absalom museum, I came upon a collection of charcoal rubbings in an old scroll tube. According to the notes that accompanied them, they were taken by a Pathfinder from a cave wall somewhere between the border of Numeria and the River Kingdoms. The rubbings depict what Numerians now refer to as the Rain of Stars. While this cave alone is an incredible find, I believe there’s something even more remarkable. In the rubbings, one of the smaller objects has a line that connects it to the horizon. While the Pathfinder dismissed this line as a stone fracture, I have another thought. I believe whomever witnessed this Rain of Stars must have seen where one of the smaller objects impacted and etched the line as a point of reference! Now all I need to do is calculate where the ridge lies in relation to this cave and I’ll have my name in the history books.
Excerpts from Ulisha’s Journal (Webs)
That the Riverfolk of Daggermark haven’t wiped themselves off the map with their wanton assassinations and poisonings is a fact that will never cease to amaze me. Still, where such dealings occur, coin is always involved, and one knowledgeable in the ways of commerce can always earn a good wage. Daggermark’s economy runs on poisoned blades, but those blades would be dry were it not for a constant influx of alchemical goods. Such goods wax and wane, though, and if one watches diligently, these market shifts can be predicted. The next ingredient the markets will want is an adhesive produced by spiders and left in their webs. Of course more potent chemicals would be found in the glands of the dreadful beasts, but I am a scholar, not some vagabond sellsword slaying vermin for ale money. I have mapped a route to a newer nest that should be sparsely defended. My buyer, one Johannes Vox (an Iobarian of curious temperament) has not been as forthright in our latest dealing as I’d like. Perhaps it is time I sold elsewhere.
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Interesting Ulisha has left us some profitable leads! Jeweled scepters, a magical lantern, a platinum chalice! Oh boy what an adventure! He says getting more and more excited by the second.
Where should we go first? Perhaps go to cannibal's grove, that just sounds fun! Plus there is a magical lantern. What could go wrong. That is my vote what about you guys?
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Ulric sctraches his red beard "Aye lads I think we ought to go tomb robbing first, shouldn't be to difficult.A wee warm-up, get the blood pumping in your legs." Ulric straps his greatsword onto his back and tightens the leather gauntlets on his arms. "What do you think Frank you look like a man who has an opinion, I mean your dad probably dug up your body parts from a graveyard am I right?"He says looking at Slaine.
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Slaine's eyes snap up to Ulric. After a momentary pause, he decides the big man wasn't insulting him and says Don't take yer meanin', bub. But I like your attitude. You three, glancing at Ulric and the dwarves in turn hold down any baddies that get in our way and I'll take 'em down. He pats his musket. I 'spect our Elf friend can do his share of wackin' too and the halfling can get us where we need to be-even if we're not invited. I'll follow where you go. Don't make no never mind to me. I'm just here to get the job done.
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While Dimble doesn't really recall anything about Varno, Ulisha's journal provides some more details.
The county of Varno lies in the far southeast of the country of Ustalav. so it borders on the River Kingdoms. In fact, it doesn't look more than a few days travel. The map in the journal implies Cannibal's Grove lies on the eastern edge of the Forest of Veils.
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Prior to heading out, Slaine loads his musket with a bullet and a dose of black powder. After loosely covering the barrel and pan with waxed cloth (to protect from elements) he shoulders his pack and gun and ensures his cutlass is comfortably on his hip. Before he leaves the cabin, he mutters some words and kisses the golden key that hangs on a chain around his neck.
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Your travels across the River Kingdoms and into Ustalav are uneventful. As you journey on a road near the edge of the forest, unsure exactly where to look for Cannibal's Grove, you stumble upon an inn.
This crumbling, moss-choked inn stands alone at the road’s end. Looming over its squat frame, a dense curtain of foliage marks the border of the Forest of Veils. The sign above the door reads “The Restless Bear,” and it seems to refer to a stuffed bear’s head that lolls upon a flagpole near the eaves.
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Slightly paranoid, aren't we? Can't we just thank Cayden Cailean for a safe trip and an opportunity to sample the local brew?
Dimble would like to get our crew into the inn, find a nice corner to park, and work on dinner and a beverage. We can hope for some news of local occurrences or info on the forest of veils or specifically Cannibal's Grove.
Hopefully the appearance of the crumbling inn doesn't reflect on it's cooking...
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I've heard the twang of a bow or the whiff of air from a bolt grazin' my skin one too many times. He mutters, not taking his eyes off the environment. Abadar blesses the prepared, not the foolhearty, and only when the mission is an honorable one.
His hand passes over the key around his neck and his eyes glaze momentarily. We'll get through this just fine. He says as he turns his gaze to the genial dwarf with a kindly smirk.
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As the others enter the "Restless Bear", Slaine easily climbs a nearby tree. Unfortunately, a few of the lesser branches are weak and crack under the gunslinger's weight. And now his watch begins.
Entering the inn, you arrive in a common room which feels like a cave, its sagging rafters clogged with yarn, shabby ribbons, and odd miniature knick-knacks that reinforce its claustrophobic atmosphere.
The inn’s only visible occupant is a spindly older woman with a few streaks of dark in her otherwise grey hair. Her face is comely enough and she might have been attractive in her day.
What comes through my door? Oh weary travelers me thinks, oh and a lot of ya. Well met travelers, I'm Birdy. Will you be needing rooms and a hot stew? How about some ale? Of course you'll be wanting ale, there be dwarves among ya. Come on in, let Birdy see to ya.
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Odd knick-knacks, yarn and ribbon? I've seen birds, especially crows back in the hills of my homeland make nests like that. Hmm....
Does it smell like foods cooking? Does it look like a functioning inn (tables, chairs, fire in the fireplace)?
Hi there Madame Birdy. How's business? Staying busy? Thank you kindly, I'd love a pint to wash some of the road from me mouth.