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"Amaranti fight walking dead in ruins, talking tiger in jungle, demon in temple! Ass-piss men, too!" The Garundi declares loudly, brandishing his lance for display. "Not afraid of kobolds..."
"Sharrowsmith may be wise, but he only one man. We are team. Where I falter, small Miro sing courage. Where one fall, beer-priest Gunari help him up again. Smart Ibid tell where to hit enemy. And no foe survive Cyrus's blade and magic of Finarin"
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"Amaranti has a point. It took me almost 2 hours to get the spine of the technic league agent, who had infiltrated the snakes in bloodcove, removed from my blade. The festrogs that plagued your miners before the kobolds? We've destroyed bands of them already in the gloomspires."
Cyrus at first kept his contempt for the aspis agent to a low boil. As he began to list off more of the deeds his companions had accomplished, he began to contain his anger less and less.
"we have seen the capabilities of the snake oil salesmen up close, " Cyrus stares at the skinny garundi, hate in his eyes, "and we barely broke a sweat. Until the fire started of course..."
He lets the not so subtle hint hang in the air for a few moments.
"the fact that these bums are here to begin with makes me wonder if they didn't have something to do with the kobold problem themselves."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"Gentleman," the old man says, nodding politely. "I apologize that I did not previously state our case well enough. This is entirely my fault, and some times my eagerness can get the better of me."
"Regardless if you dismiss us here, and our offered help, we are here to do what we can to help and to ascertain the fate of one of our order. I will not lie and say that I believe the Aspis Consortium is the proper choice for helping in your plight, but the decision is yours alone to make. And, the fate of your people will stand or fall with your decision."
"Surely, you can see that we have prepared ourselves adequately for the venture to meet with you," Ibid says motioning to the various members of their adventuring party, each dressed in hot weather gear. "Also, we are protect by magics which not be as visible, to resist this region's hottest midday sun... Now, that is not to say that the Aspis Consortium does not have access to such equipment, as they surely do. Their grasp on the world is certainly strong and far reaching... but it is also tight and clutching."
"I implore you to be careful and think long about your decision. I say that knowing you have already done so, and do not mean insult your intelligence with a condescending tone, Preator."
"I am attempting to offer a needed warning regarding the grasp of the Aspis Consortium, lest that clenching grip begin to strangle your people and livelihood." Ibid quickly adds another comment, hoping to insert his words before Amersanus Valacosti of the Aspis Consortium can interject. "Have they not already offered their aid, but with... heavy and binding strings attached? Perhaps, these offers of aid are hoping to capitalize on your position here in order to make it their own?"
"Our aid is offered in earnest. We seek only to help aid in your plight and to ascertain the fate of one of our order."
"The decision is yours, and yours alone, but this also means you must be the one to live with the consequences."
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When Finarin hears Cyrus talk about the fire, a glaze comes over his eyes. He stands from his seat, drawing his scimitar, imbuing it with magical energy. Before the Praetor, and the Aspis agent, he begins to chant magical words. The scimitar transforms before them, sharpening magically, the point extends to a razor sharp tip. He steps forward, and again chants magical words. The blue crackle of electrical energy orbits his sword arm, cascading down and oscillating from hilt to tip of his scimitar.
Finarin takes a dangerous step towards the agent. Never taking his eyes from the agent, Finarin address the praetor. "Sir, a display you would like to see of our .... skills. But choose a target and I will turn it ... inside out for you. But say the word, my lord. please"
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"Or, we could just relax a bit, and talk about this like civilized men" Gunari takes out his pitcher, calls upon the blessings of Cayden Cailean, and the pitcher is full. "We have already promised to fix the the problem that it is claimed was caused by our Venture-Captain. We do this, and though it pains me to say it, at no cost to your town. I am sure this offer was not extended by your friend, here... The Aspis Consortium rare,y does anything without a high cost, with payment in full. Why, he only negotiators I have heard of with a higher hidden cost and more fine print would be e partners to the Thrune dynasty.
"Look at Bloodcove... The Aspis came in 'to help' and now they force away all honest businessmen. Would you have the same happen here? For that is their true price."
Gunari pours a round
Praetor Sylien listens intently to the Pathfinders' impassioned pleas to be allowed to deal with the problems at hand themselves. However, it is the lanky Garundi that is first to speak.
"You would do well not to belittle my organization!" says Amersanus Valacosti, his face reddened as he listens to the Pathfinders' assault on the Consortium, "The Aspis Consortium offers a real chance for Fort Bandu to recover from the trouble your associate has caused. Rather than empty promises, we offer true aid. Supplies are already on the way, and a cadre of highly trained soldiers await only the Praetor's go ahead before they can be here to help deal with the kobolds. You, on the other hand look greener than a squire on his first day."
Praetor Sylien raises a hand to stay any further comment from Valacosti, "It seems then, that Amersanus here doubts your abilities. Very well, he can stand against you," Valacosti begins to object, but seems to realize how that would look and instead stands his ground, "If you can move him from that circle over there on your first attempt without bringing harm to him, you may count me impressed."
Sylien indicates for Valacosti to stand within a five foot circle on the floor, and the Aspis representative places his ornate cane on the map table and limps over to the circle. Despite his obvious disability, he does not look as though he will be a push over.
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Cyrus bristles at Amersanus as he speaks, unable to hide his contempt any longer.
I may be wrong, but I'm sure this snake has something to do with what is going on here. Its a set-up and Sharrowsmith is the fall guy, with the society taking the hit.
Cyrus begins to move around the room, circling Amersanus like a shark circles its prey.
"You accuse the society of not being willing to send aid, and espouse your deceitful consortium as friends because aid is already on the way. How did you manage to find out what was going on so fast I ask? Why, all we knew is that Sharrowsmith was missing, yet you seem to have had the news that the kobolds are on a rampage so early that aid is already moving! That's a big coincidence, and I don't believe in coincidences." Cyrus spits at the crippled man in the circle.
Passing in front of him again, Cyrus draws his magnificent looking wakizashi. "Let's talk about just how effective the ass-piss consortium really is." Cyrus effortlessly slices through a melon on a nearby table, making sure everyone can see just how keen the deadly blade is.
"Let's talk about a city controlled by corruption and greed, where crimes of any magnitude are only dealt with if it affects consortium business and if you have enough money to grease the right wheels. How will that go over in a town built on enterprising men and women working the land to strike it rich?" Cyrus continues to stalk, circling ever closer.
"Let's talk about the ass-piss agents, so focused on spying on it's own people, that it couldn't recognize a motley crew of pathfinders right in its midst. That it couldn't stop us from pulling out reams of intel on its agents, criminals all."
Cyrus looks into the man's eyes, making him the focus of his hate and anger, like he did to the spellcaster outside of bloodcove. He continues his circle, arm and blade pointed at the skinny garundi.
"Let's talk about a technic league agent who so easily infiltrated the ranks of the consortium that he was leading the planning for some of its major expeditions. And finally, lets talk about how, despite his arcane power, this group cut him down like the dog he was."
"He never saw me coming, until it was too late. I was there, then I was gone..." Cyrus instantly vanishes into thin air. A disembodied voice continues to circle.
"My blade flashed once, cutting his shoulder deep, and he never knew I was there. He tried to run. I could sense the fear rising in his throat like bile. So my blade flashed again..."
At that moment the ninja reappears a few feet in front of the garundi, in full charge. He is nearly laid out, flying through the air, the light reflecting off his blade flashes throughout the room, aiming straight for the neck of the consortium representative. With a primal scream he flies by Valacosti, fluttering the man's clothing as he passes, but not touching the man.
"And removed his head from his shoulders." Cyrus finishes standing behind him, breathing hard.
As Cyrus hammers past the Consortium representative, the man is indeed unnerved and surprised by the ninja's sudden appearance. He falls back a few steps, but while his heel graces the outside edge of the circle, the man is still within it when all is said and done.
“Is this supposed to make an impression?” Valacosti is quick to dismiss the display of power and he quickly recovers his composure, “If you think this situation can be solved at the point of a sword or by brandishing some hedge wizardry (or whatever that vanishing trick was), 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? Do you understand the history of our people and the forces of work here?"
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"Well, I'll speak up first, but I know that my friend Ibid knows more... however, we are very observant Pathfinder agents who know very well the three tenants! Observe, Report, Cooperate!
"We've already had to deal with many very delicate situations in our careers. My team has helped to prevent a rather tricky situation from going awry on route during a secret missions... one that, while I am sure we cannot talk about, prevented a rather unfortunately international incident. . We have also dealt with several very tricky situations in Absalom itself... completing delicate tasks without the general population knowing anything was wrong! . We have helped nobles recover their honor and investigated undead infested tombs We have even worked with native peoples to prevent their treasures from antiquity from being stolen from them by organizations that prefer profit over knowledge.
"The very fact that you might not have heard of any of this, including when it might have happened very close by is an indicator of our... discretion."
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"Indeed, Praetor. We have a multitude of ways to solve the problems presented to us, and have the wisdom to tell when words will work, or when steel is needed. The fact that we didn't come rushing in here, demanding Sharrowsmith's return or information on the man's whereabouts, ought to attest to our wont to use diplomacy first, and always! As Gunari has mentioned, we have a string of successes for the Pathfinder Society, and would like to add your town's troubles to our growing list of issues we have helped rectify." The halfling remains serious at the moment, his green eyes remaining fixed on the praetor, completely ignoring the Aspis Consortium representative.
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"I could have gotten him out of the circle. All I would have needed to do was to drop a ... gold piece outside it. Never seen an Aspis agent not scramble for a ... gold piece."
"Praetor, we are a .... diverse group. Resourceful. We are here .... practically begging you .... to allow us to right a wrong. The fact that we are so ... determined has to count for something. You are spoken of as a .... reasonable man. Does not what we say make .... sense?"
Visibly frustrated, Valacosti appeals one last time to Sylien, “Praetor. I implore you, send these Pathfinders back from where they came from. This is neither the place nor the time for their presence. For the sake of the people of Fort Bandu, do not let them worsen this situation.”
With reluctance, the praetor acknowledges the Pathfinders with a slow nod. Then, after a brief glance to Valacosti, he appears ready to make his decision.
With a reserved sigh, the praetor relents, “Your words and actions have shown me that you are indeed capable of handling yourselves in a fight as well as in a tricky diplomatic situation. Perhaps I was wrong to paint you with the same brush as the seemingly ham fisted Nieford Sharrowsmith. My decision is this: as the Pathfinders are responsible for getting us into this mess, I see it fitting that we give them the chance to remedy the situation. I’m putting my faith in you, and the lives of the people in Fort Bandu. I pray that you don’t betray that trust, for the consequences could be quite dire for all who call this home.”
“Most unfortunate,” Valacosti observes with disappointment that gives way to menacing resolve, “I believe you are making a grave mistake by placing any faith in these glorified tomb robbers, Praetor. Once they fail, remember that the Aspis Consortium has extended a generous offer of aid in this troubling time. One can only hope that this Pathfinder experiment does not exacerbate the situation further and necessitate our renegotiating the terms.”
With a sour expression his face, Valacosti storms out of the room, leaning heavily upon his snake-headed cane to gain more momentum as he does so. Once the Valacosti has left, the Praetor turns back to the Pathfinders, and produces six vials from a nearby cabinet.
"I see no point in withholding aid from you and hindering your chances," says Praetor Sylien, passing the potions out amongst the group, "Drink these and you won't feel the heat at all for a good day or so. You'll sleep better. Most importantly, you'll be able to set off immediately."
Praetor Sylien moves over to the map on the table and indicates a small tent figurine not far from the model of Fort Bandu, "That is Sharrowsmith's last known location. If you leave now, you should be able to get there while there is still light left in the day. It is a Gold Crown mining operation. From there, he intended to travel onwards to the Valley of Broken Blood... here. More than that, he did not share with me. With the current levels of kobold activity, though, I would suggest that you hurry before is trail goes cold - or the miners who might have seen him are forced to abandon their camps... or worse, are killed."
Concern is etched deeply in the Praetor's face and he waits anxiously for the Pathfinders to take their leave.
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"Thank you, most kindly, Praetor," the old man says, tipping the brim of his weathered hat to Praetor Sylien. "For both the potions and, more importantly, for the opportunity to prove ourselves to you. Rest assured that we begin this undertaking with the utmost seriousness. We will not let you down in delivering this fort, and your people, from this menace."
"As the others have said and hinted at, we have faced both terrible odds and delicate situations before. Though we may have failed to show it when first we were introduced, this group you see before you has a vast array of skills and talents, exactly suited for the task at hand. We are prepared, cunning, and relentless. And we will see this through to the end."
"I will speak no more of the Aspis Consortium in an effort to persuade you further to our cause with words you surely will find hollow," Ibid says with a smile, voicing the words with complete honesty. As the old man continues, his tone becomes gravely serious, and a veritable fire is lit behind his eyes as pledges to the Praetor. "Instead, I solemnly pledge that our actions and the results we yield will speak for themselves. You have my word, as a pathfinder, that we will do everything in our power to right this wrong."
"Indeed, I hope so. I am not a cautious man by nature and would prefer to ride out and combat this threat myself," confesses Praetor Sylien, "But my duties here and this situation in particular demands a cooler head. I am also no fool, but thank you for your warning all the same, Ibid. The Aspis Consortium's reputation is well known to me. They currently offer a way to ensure the people of this town's safety - an assurance that is only needed because of a member of your organization's actions. I do not like it, the cost is likely to be high, but if I must for the safety of my charges, then I will."
With that, Sylien returns to his musings over the map table.
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Several hours later, and everyone is glad for the potions of endurance. Today, it seems, is hotter than any of the previous days of travel. The leaves of the trees are shriveling before the Pathfinders' very eyes and a heat haze is ever shimmering in the distance. Whatever is damp, including the sodden ground, has water vapor steaming off it. The group is fortunate that the journey to the Gold Crown mining camp is mostly over level ground and that the trail is well made and well worn. All in all, they make good time.
As the Sun is beginning to set over the western horizon, it illuminates some impressive charcoal-grey cliffs looming in the distance. An isolated gorge leads down to the foot of the cliffs, and the Pathfinders manage the descent with grace and agility. As they near the bottom, though, their senses are assailed by the scent of decay. The sickening sweet smell of fetid meat is unmistakeable.
Hexagonal basalt columns scarred by mining tools line the walls of the gorge. The floor of the gorge is a patchwork of scrub grass and leafless vegetation flattened by frequent traffic. Wooden scaffolding, mining equipment, and trampled tents lie abandoned across the camp. Corpses of laborers rent limb from limb lay amidst the camp’s wreckage, and dried blood darkens the rocks. Several banners depicting a golden crown adorn the scaffolding.
More than a score of corpses lay scattered throughout the camp. A small flock of ravens has been feasting on the bodies at the fringe of the camp, but they fly off as the Pathfinders approach. Their cawing can be still heard clearly as the group investigates the camp, so they have not gone far. Ibid has a hard time guessing at how long these bodies have lain there, as the prevailing temperature and humidity could cause extremely rapid decay.
As the Pathfinders move in to inspect the center of the encampment, they are greeted by a grisly site. Three bald, hunched over undead are feeding upon the corpses here. Their grey pustule-covered flesh and bony protrusions, combined with their frog-like stance reveals them to be festrogs. However, unlike the festrogs the group encountered in the Gloomspire, these are particularly large and well muscled. They seem more alert than their distant kin, and perk up as the group approaches. Their feral snarls are enough to get the adventurers' adreneline rushing through their veins as combat is joined.
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Cyrus shrugs his shoulders and leaves his endure elements scrolls in his pack, and happily downs the potion provided.
He also nods in agreement with Ibid. "I'll be honest, I am looking forward to showing you the true might of the society, even if it is just a taste."
"ugh... not these things again..."
Remembering the nasty disease he contracted the last time the group ran into these things, he makes a mental note to draw his silvered light mace instead of his wakizashi. With his crossbow already in his hand though, he gets ready to aim for something that isn't in melee combat just yet.
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Ibid recalls these monstrosities from their journey through the Gloomspires, and his hand hesitates, almost drawing a bladed arrow, but instead grasps upon the adjacent blunted arrows. Quickly loading the longbow, and raising it while drawing back in the string, the old man looks down the length of the arrow at the nearst monstrosity.
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Seeing the festrogs, Finarin mind shatters into a screaming vortex,
Pushing the voice into the deepest recesses of his sub-conscious, he conjures up an image of him in his youth, hunting deer. He imagines the lush green fields dotted by ancient oaks. The deer bound away, but he laughs to himself, as the draws the bow string to his check. Barely breathing, he looses in a heart beat as the arrow flies true. Piercing the stag's heart in mid-leap, bringing the majestic creature down.
Abruptly waking back into reality, Finarin see the bow in his hands, and his arrow flying straight at Larry.
Miro begins singing a familiar battle chant, spurring his friends on to greater heights. Ibid's first blunted arrow flies straight into Moe the Festrog's right eye and comes to a stop at the back of the thing's skull. With nary a moan, Moe falls flat to the ground before he can even charge.
The arrow fired at Curly, however, goes wide and thuds into the tent behind the gore-drenched creature. Finarin similarly assaults the tent, this time aiming for Larry, or was it the stag? Perhaps Finarin had best spend his time prior to an attack aiming rather than day dreaming.
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Gunari shakes his head, knowing he cannot use his most effective weapon... at least without risk. 'Reckless is my middle name...' he thinks, but draws his hammer instead, anyways, as he charges forward.
As a swift action, he calls upon the power of Cayden Cailean to protect him and moves up.
Just to be safe, he will forgo attacking, but will use a standard action to call a blessing of good, to make his silvered light mace deal an extra 1d6 Good damage.
Gunari steps into the fray with uncharacteristic caution, and the smell nearly overpowers him as he gets closer to these living corpses. The festrogs of the Bandu Hills, as well as being larger and more powerful, smell even worse than their Gloomspire cousins.
Kaisharga disappears to the outer plans with a ssssour look on its face while Amaranti feels a swell of conjuration energies now available to him.
Gunari has wisely got into close enough range with the Festrogs that they are too close to get enough speed for a charge. However, he does face the full force of both attacks from the creatures. The heavily armored Varisian does not look concerned.
Caiden is indeed kind to his favored acolyte, and despite coming viciously close to his throat, the festrogs' snapping jaws and raking claws fall short of the mark every time.
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Gunari faces down the flurry of undead attacks, and is relieved to see that they missed. However, that doesn't relieve any of his real concerns... so he just decides to pound on Larry for a while!
He considers what spells he could cast, but decides to just let it go for now. Hopefully he won't have to worry about taking 6 attacks again!
Finarin and Gunari move in on their mark. Pounding down on Larry with their blunt instruments, the pair of warriors reduce the festrog to a pile of bloody goo, without getting any of the diseased liquid on themselves!
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Cyrus sees that two of the dirty creatures are already down before he can react, which would be surprising if not for the history of effectiveness of his comrades. He moves forward, drawing his light mace and a vial of holy water, ready to jump into the fray if Gunari and Finarin are unable to quickly finish the beast off.
Cyrus and Miro both hedge their bets, readying some effective strategies but waiting for the capable warriors, their well-muscled summoner and their resident archer to do their thing before unleashing their own power.
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Walking in a slow, deliberate pace, the old man pulls another blunted arrow free of its quiver, and threads it onto the bowstring. Moving slightly off the trail, the old man pushes aside the green foliage and overgrowth, and aligns his aim over the rubble interposed between himself and the monstrosity.
His keen yet aged eyes focus down the length of the arrow, narrowing on the creature before slowly releasing his breath. A moment later, the blunted arrow lunges from the bow.
Ibid's arrow smashes through Curly's ribcage, and the foul abomination staggers back a little, leaking (but thankfully not spraying) its puss juice all over the ground.
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With Kaisharga gone, Amaranti's connection to the surges with power once more. Calling out to the plane of elemental air, the Garundi summons a small creature of earth to manifest on his own plane.
The ground rumbles next to the remaining festrog, and stone by stone the elemental takes form. Immediately, it knows what to do, and pummels the enemy with it's heavy fists.
The little creature of earth pummels the malformed undead into the earth. As though nature was reclaiming the unnatural thing, the earth elemental dives down with the festrog. A small hole is all that remains of the vile thing as the earth elemental pops back out and begins to look around for other foes to fight. Seeing none, it sits down and looks to Amaranti patiently.
Several tense moments pass and the Pathfinders dimly become aware of the sounds of screaming in the distance. As the thrill of battle passes from them, they realize that they are not so much screams as cries for help. Following the voices, the group finds three starved and nearly dead miners barricaded inside a supply shed. The two human natives look the worst off, with the dwarven overseer seeming to weather it slightly better than they. The miners beg for water (but are equally satisfied with beer, if offered) and whatever food the Pathfinders can provide.
"Thank you, thank you for saving us!" says the dwarf, digging in to the rations as though they were the most delicious thing he'd ever eaten, "One more day o' that, and me friends would'a been dead for sure! Two more days, and I would'a joined 'em! Kobolds attacked the camp, took some captives, too. We managed to barricade ourselves in the supply shed. The gods only know why we're starving after we essentially locked ourselves in the pantry... I suspect the kobolds must have stolen our supplies before we found this spot. Sneaky little bastards."
They eat and drink their fill and thank the Pathfinders again before asking, "What brings ye out here to save our lives? We weren't due back fer another three days."
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The warpriest of the Drunken Hero helps the miners, giving them water at first, and then ale once they seem a little more... stable.
"Well, it appears then we have a happy accident. In fact, we were not looking for you all, but we were looking for Sharrowsmith. He was supposedly in the area, before the kobolds got all riled up. Looking for something, we believe.
"However, I am glad to see that we were able to save you folks. Cayden's own luck that we happened by when we did!
"So, what can you tell us about what Sharrowsmith was doing up here, and what happened to piss off the kobolds? It seems the two might be related, but we aren't sure, yet."
"Cayden be praised!" chimes in the dwarf, happy to thank any god that delivered him from his self-imposed prison, hi strength seems to be returning as he continues, "About a week ago, a horde of kobolds descended upon us. They seemed to be trying to capture and not kill us, but our buddies put up one hell of a fight. They murdered well over a score of us, but took at least a dozen miners back to their lair. They weren't even interested in the vein of silver we found - biggest I've ever seen - just wanted captives.
"As for that Sharrowsmith," the dwarf spits on the ground, "Reckon this was all his fault. Kobolds were never so bold until he stirred 'em up. Came through here a few weeks afore the raids began. Reckon whatever he was doing go the kobolds riled up something fierce. Looking for an ancient dwarven ruin or some such. I'm thinking he found it. I'm thinking it was occupied. Probably where they took me friends. We're in no state to be mountin' a rescue. But since ye dealt with them grim undead things in a matter of seconds, could it be ye'll be willing to help a bit further... ?"
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Gunari shakes his head at the accusations against Sharrowsmith. Still, all circumstantial, but it is worrying. "We'd be glad to help. I assume you'll be wanting us to go free your friends? If you have any information on where Sharrowsmith was looking, we'd appreciate it!"
He pours another round for the crew... it looks like they could use it. 'Kobolds. Sneaky little bastards. Very unusually that they would do a frontal assault.'
"You say that a horde of kobolds came here? That doesn't seem like their norm... the are usually more sneaky... unlike orcs or goblins. Something doesn't smell right, here."
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The Halfling ponders the miners' words a moment, nodding thoughtfully. "And Sharrowsmith was the only person to pass through here on his way in that time? No other travelers or visitors? Drink up, lad! We got to get your strength back up so you can get back to town."
Miro smiles at Gunari's words. "Of course we will help. It's what the Pathfinder Society does, after all."
"Well, it... er... seemed like a horde," says the overseer, a little sheepishly. It occurs to the Pathfinders that they probably barricaded themselves in the shed very early on in the fight, "But if ye'd be willing t'rescue our friends, that'd be wonderful! Sharrowsmith was looking for a dwarven ruin. Bad enough he was pokin' around in me ancestor's homes, without raising kobold hor... er... tribes to boot. I reckon if ye follow the trail t'me friends, ye'll be headin' right fer Sharrowsmith - if he's even alive by now.
"As fer other visitors," the dwarf almost laughs at Miro's question, "Don't get any out here. Only folk we encounter are rival miners. Thank ye fer all ye've done, too. Might be that yer Society ain't so bad after all. Maybe Sharrowsmith didn't know what he was doin', maybe it were coincidence. All I know fer sure is that I can't find fault with you fine folk. Thank you again."
The dwarf pulls out a stick and starts drawing a rough map in the sand, "This is where we are... here. We were reckoning that the kobolds must have a major settlement... here, in this valley deep in the jungle. Shouldn't be more'n about fifteen miles give or take. Travel by night if'n ye can. I swear, I thought the heat was gonna kill us t'day fer sure."
The map is rough, but with Ibid's tracking skills, the Pathfinders think they could make it to where the dwarf is talking about. Further inquiry reveals little - he's trying to be helpful, but Sharrowsmith didn't reveal his destination to the miners.
On the other hand, Gunari recalls the Exchange made occasional deals with another resources organisation, the Deeptreasure Mining Company. They are somewhat less moral than the Golden Crown Company, but are much more powerful. Allying with them would be of great financial benefit to the Exchange and they would certainly be very grateful to know of this mine's location. The Gold Crown Company certainly can't continue to mine it without aid (for the foreseeable future at least).
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"Now we are getting somewhere. Taking miners as prisoners? There is definitely some higher level organization going on here, and now we have something to go off of." Cyrus smiles a mischievous smile, knowing they have a trail to follow.
"I'm ready to keep moving when you are..." He says to his companions. While waiting for everyone to get their stuff together, he meanders around the campsite, making sure nothing was left unchecked.
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"Rival miners, you say... any companies or groups we might know? I am wondering if something was going on with that..."
Gunari takes a moment, and casts enhance diplomacy, hopefully without being noticed too much. He does try and cover it up by casting another create beer as well.
"In any case, perhaps we could talk about business. It sounds like you've hit an amazing strike here. But, I am also guessing you might need a little help defending your claim. I represent certain... factions shall we say... within the Society that would like to aid you in protecting your claim. I am sure that there are larger mining companies that could move in and take advantage of your claim, some of us prefer to see honest businessmen such as yourselves survive... nay, flourish... in a tough competitive environment! We could assist you with manpower, both in mining and in defense, and we could also extend our rather extensive trade networks here to help you move your product out of the local region into somewhere that you could maximize your profits. Of course, we'll have to figure out the details, but I am sure we can come to an equitable arrangement!"
Gunari looks at the dwarf, hoping to get a positive response.
"Rivals, y'know. Just rivals. Aspis Consortium tries to stake a few claims near here, Deeptreasure folks are always around... and smaller mining companies, too. I reckon a deal would be just what we'd be needing," the dwarf seems to mull something over in his mind, eventually spitting on the ground, "Yeah, I'll be recommendin' that exact thing to my superiors when I get back to Fort Bandu. If'n ye bring back any survivors from the kobolds, I'd reckon they'll sign ye up quick as they can."
Gunari and the overseer make arrangements for when they meet up again at base camp. The miners are healthy enough to travel back to Fort Bandu. The trails are well worn enough that they should be able to make the journey easily enough, especially at night time. They suggest that they'll see to the miners' bodies to avoid attracting anymore ravenous dead, and take what valuables they can back to Fort Bandu.
Winding through the jungle, and following what they remember of the drawing the dwarf made for them the companions try their best to find the valley he spoke of. Between their Wayfinders and their expert ranger's skills at surviving in the wilds, the companions are able to find their way without any significant kind of delay. Luckily for the Pathfinders, the rain and clouds have abated and the moonlight is filtering through the canopies. The ground drops away suddenly, and they find stretched out before them.
This ancient valley nestled in the Bandu Hills is well hidden, being almost impossible to spot from more than a mile away. Ancient megalithic stones—most of which are toppled and partly buried—ring the border of this deep valley. These stones, long since weathered by time and encrusted with vegetation, serve as the only indication that humanoids may have at one time settled this region. The thick forest canopy of the valley below hides any sign of civilization—ancient or otherwise— from outside observers.
Ibid locates an old switchback trail hidden by the overgrowth that allows the group an easy way to descend the steep walls of the valley in relative safety. Investigating the huge stones, Ibid is glad for his Dwarven language coach as he learns they valley is called "the Valley of Broken Blood". They refers to the city within the valley as "Ashkurhall" (which some may remember from the rubbing of an engraving that Sharrowsmith found). Beyond that, nothing much more can be gleaned - they are simply marker stones.
Once the group has descended into the valley they find themselves beneath a dense canopy of tall jungle trees. Under this dense canopy, the jungle floor is largely devoid of undergrowth, save for extremely small and sparse vegetation. The majority of the jungle floor is made of massive root structures from the ancient trees and moss-covered rocks. The lighting is extremely limited, and to avoid constantly tripping the companions are eventually forced to resort to magical means to light their way.
The Pathfinders are glad for the light when, only minutes after reaching the forest floor, they pick up the trail of dozens of tracks that can only be kobolds. Long drag-marks accompany the clawed footprints, splattered occasionally with a splash of blood. The trail goes for approximately two miles into the valley.
The dense forestation of the valley jungle thins here, opening up enough to reveal the sky through the canopy. Beneath this opening, an ancient ruin consumed by the jungle is barely visible. Vines and leafy foliage encrust toppled blocks of quarried stone, tall grass grows up between derelict paving stones, and squat statues depicting dwarves in heavy armor stand crooked or fractured entirely from the infiltration of twisting roots. Among the more notable features here are the exotic flowers—tall, pitcher-shaped, golden blooms with seven petals, the interior of each a deep red. The soothing fragrance of the flowers fills the valley, and motes of pollen drift lazily in the air.
Gunari and Ibid both notice that beneath the thick vegetation are at least fifty skeletal bodies of various humanoid races. Some broken bones that have fallen on a nearby rocky outcropping appear to have burst apart like thin ceramic.
When reading Ibidopedia, the investigator remembers these flowers that cover the clearing. They are known as "heart-eater" blossoms, and are a breed of inanimate carnivorous plants that feed on the blood and marrow of cadavers. These flowers are typically found in northern Avistan and were most prominent in the lost nation of Sarkoris. The bulk of the flowers here are of this variety.
Ibid recalls even more about botany, recognizing some other varieties also. Some are aggressive carnivorous plants known as xtabays. The lazily drifting particles in this clearing is actually xtabay pollen, a sleep-inducing agent. Yet another creature lurkes here... a scruffy living topiary blends into the undergrowth. As the group nears the deadly plants, they notice a male halfling who is obviously a miner is currently being covered and slowly devoured by xtabay roots! The slow, labored rise and fall of his chest reveals that he is still alive - for now.
Xtabay
This patch of vines is ornamented with beautiful crimson and violet flowers, the petals of which seem to bear tiny faces.
Picture of a Xtabay
Known for their potent—and ultimately deadly—scent, xtabays are a floral hazard to the unwary. As fast-spreading as ivy, a xtabay’s vines are sturdy and adaptive, making the plant a potential threat nearly everywhere—from gardens to wells to forest groves.
Tremorsense (30ft) A creature with tremorsense is sensitive to vibrations in the ground and can automatically pinpoint the location of anything that is in contact with the ground. Aquatic creatures with tremorsense can also sense the location of creatures moving through water. The ability’s range is specified in the creature’s descriptive text.
Devour (Ex) While a creature is under the effects of a xtabay’s soporific pollen, the plant may, as a full-round action, occupy the same square as the sleeping creature and slowly sap the life from it. Every round the xtabay uses this ability, the affected creature must make a DC 14 Fortitude save or take 1d2 Con damage. This feeding is curiously painless, and normally isn’t enough to waken a foe put to sleep by the plant. Each round this feeding continues, the sleeping victim can attempt a new DC 14 Will save to awaken. This save DC is Constitution-based.
Soporific Pollen (Ex) As a standard action, a xtabay can release sleep-inducing pollen into the air around it. Each creature within a 10-ft.-radius burst centered on the xtabay must make a DC 14 Will save or fall asleep for 1d3 minutes. A creature that succeeds on the Fortitude save cannot be affected by the same xtabay’s soporific pollen for 24 hours. A creature put to sleep by this pollen can be awakened by vigorously shaking the sleeper (a standard action) or by damaging it. This is a mind-affecting sleep effect. The save DC is Constitution-based
Living Topiary
This lumbering topiary has the rough shape of an elephant, complete with brambly limbs and tusks.
Picture of a Living Topiary
Part plant and part beast, living topiaries are moving flora that look like decorative lawn ornaments used to adorn gardens and groves, though their bestial nature and aloof demeanor prove they are far from mere decorations.
Assimilate (Ex) As a full-round action, a living topiary can consume undergrowth or bushy plant matter it’s currently touching and incorporate that material into its form. It can do this
at a rate of 5 cubic feet per round, healing 1d8 points of damage each time. If the topiary is at maximum hit points, this ability has no effect
Move through Hedges (Ex) A living topiary may move through any mass of brambles or other dense plant growth without penalty. It must begin and end its turn outside of the mass.
Plants vs Drongos™ (map here) begins! Round 1: Fight!
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"We have to save the halfling! Finarin, let's light 'em up!"
Gunari moves up, drawing his rapier. With a fervor, he calls upon the blessings of Cayden Cailean, giving himself divine favor. He then attacks the xtabay in front of him, using weapon of the chosen, greater
His blade strikes true, dealing massive damage to the plant thing. He feels good, doing the right thing, for the right cause. Saving people, that's heroic... what Cayden Cailean would want!
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"How in the world are we supposed to fight these things?" Cyrus remarks, unsure where to start.
Who knows if this will even have any affect...
Cyrus draws his crossbow and fires at the lumbering elephant looking plant creature, though the thought of shooting a bolt at a plant strikes him as odd, and likely ineffective. He aims for what he thinks might be a vulnerable spot on the... thing...
for