The Pathfinder Society has turned its attention to the Ruby Phoenix Tournament—a world-renowned fighting competition, held once every ten years in the city of Goka on the eastern continent of Tian Xia.
More specifically, the Decemvirate is interested in the incredible prizes available to the tournament’s winner—a choice of treasure from the legendary vaults of Hao Jin, the Ruby Phoenix herself.
As part of the preparations for the tournament, Pathfinder Society agents have been deployed across the Inner Sea and beyond to seek out forgotten lore, allies, and magical items to be used by the Society’s tournament representatives.
Venture-Captain Amara Li, leader of the Lantern Lodge and Goka native, has uncovered information about one such item hidden amid the reaches of the Wall of Heaven—an Iroran relic known as the Braid of a Hundred Masters. Organizing the search from her base in the Dragon Empires, she intends to send a group of Pathfinders to the high mountain range in search of the braid’s ancient home: the Clouded Path Monastery.
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After the meeting with Amara Li, you are all left preparing for the journey. A lot of unfamiliar faces are around you, but they are all clearly Pathfinders: the look in their eyes, the grip on their weapons or the way they are packing their bags: something gives it away.
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Thaurux is a strong and handsome man, but is also a bit crude and very clumsy. He stands tall to hide his nervousness; he has never worked with the pathfinders before. Souvenirs of his first deadly adventure come to mind. Observing the others, he decides to add some additional material to his gear, last time he felt unprepared for the challenges he faced.
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Striding in to the room with an air of supreme confidence, but little trace of arrogance. Arrogance kills and no one knows this better than an Ulfen warrior. Young and powerfully built, he displays a worldly nature showing a genuine interest in the the others who have gathered and what looks to be their manner of meeting it head on,taking particular note of what looks to be a paladin he moves on to the savage man sitting by himself. .
The man who looks to be the most powerfully built of those assembled and he moves to greet him. "Hail, warrior.I am Orri Bjornsson of Trollheim. You look strong as an ice troll and nearly as fearsome. Tell me, what is your name?"
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Theor stands in the corner watching the others as they pack their gear. He finishes tieing off his backpack and fiddles Bec de Corbin making sure it is well sharpened. He nods his head to Horatius glad to see a familiar face.
He waits for a break in conversation to introduce himself "Well met all, I am Theor Garess and I hail from the River Kingdoms. I look forward to our adventures and pray we all return safely."
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A female gnome saunters into the room, with long, wild-looking green hair that matches her eyes and full lips. She looks strange to the big human men around her, very child-like, but also mature. They realize that despite the fact that she appears very youthful and quite pretty, she is older than all of them. She is also quite small, typical for a gnome, standing a little over 3' tall.
"Hiya boys." She says with a wink. "Lynthara's my name, but most folks just call me Lyn. I've got the 'gift' as some call it, for working magic. I've not worked for the Pathfinders yet, but some of them just passed through my hometown of Wispil."
She notices Theor and Horatius: "Why, it's you! I know we haven't met but let me thank you for your service in stopping those awful druids."
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In the weeks since Horatiuses last mission for the Society he had spent much of his time among the folk living in the small towns just outside Absalom. Here he helped them work the land, tend their homes and saw to their spirits as best he could. Working within the community, one of the purist forms of worship to Erastil, did much to push the lingering feel of the druids taint from his own spirit. In time the simple, honest toil refreshed the faithful of Old Deadeye and it was with renewed vigor that he received the latest missive.
Word from the Silver Crusade arrived first in the form of a simple sealed letter explaining their interests in his up coming mission. The summons for the mission itself came shortly thereafter when a runner from the city found Horatius half caked in mud assisting a local farmer in removing a stubborn stump. Acknowledging the man and providing him a bit of coin the paladin finished his work, cleaned himself up and headed back to the hustle and bustle of the busy city.
When the time came to meet with his fellow Pathfinders Horatius donned his traveling gear and made his way to see whom he would be taking this venture with. Arrayed in his gear he held little resemblance to the common image of a paladin. No bright armor gleamed upon him, no grand cape or ornate symbols. His gear was simple and functional. Studded leather armor covered in simple travelers cloths and a deep green cloak which might have been worn by any peasant on the roads of Avistan. On his hip hung various weapons and pouches while an unslung bow and well traveled pack sat over his shoulder. Across his back was a large two handed sword of exceptional but humbly adorned craftsmanship. Only the simple wooden symbol of Erastil that hung about his neck and something undefinable about his gaze hinted that he might be something more.
Seeing a familiar face in Theor Horatius greeted the man warmly. "Theor it is good to see you once again. I had hoped some of my past companions might also have been called upon this mission. Have you been well since our time in your homeland?"
After speaking with the ranger for a bit his ears caught mention of Trollheim and he took the opportunity to introduce himself to the two Ulfen speaking off to the side. "Greetings sons of the north. I am Horatius Lartius. Forgive me but I heard you make mention of Trollheim. Only a few months ago I traveled to your land on another errand. It is a strong and beautiful country you are born of. I am honored to meet two sons of that land."
When the outgoing gnome entered the room he turned to her and gave a friendly smile. "I was only glad to be of service Lynthara. I hope your community has recovered well. Tell me what brought you to join the Lodge?"
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Lyn grins at the humbly dressed but capable man.
"Well, I 'spose life was starting to get a little too boring in Wispil. It's a pretty sleepy place most of the time. I had plenty of chances to explore the Verduran Forest, which was wonderful, but after 20 or 30 years even the most fascinating forest gets a bit too familiar for my people. I just love learning and discovering new things, and the Society is always sending its agents out exploring. I'm especially interested in recovering magical secrets of ancient Thassilon, Azlant and Osirion."
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During the conversation of the near complete group of pathfinders the door opens with a sway.
a young man stroles in while uttering,
I've added some danish in as substitute for the skald language if that's ok. If you lot dislike it , we won't see it again in the future =) Translation: Good morning
He halts his pace a few feet in the room where his backpack meets the ground with a heavy thud.
"Leiff Gunnarson of the Jernfjord Tribe, nice to meet you all. I take it this is where we meet up for the trek up the mountains."
He takes in his company with a look and a nod, meeting their eyes with his, their ice-blue hue both hinting to the cold of the high north as well as the fiery and brash temperament common to the Ulfen people.
While his large backpack rest securely on the floor the shortish and wiry man flexes his muscles, relaxing the tension of dragging the large backpack around town. (He took the time to gather some gear suited for colder weather. content of backpack changed accordingly)
The movements of his arms shift his weathered cloak sharing a glimpse of an Ulfen signaling Horn at his belt. While one might doubt his descent judging by his build, his halflong blonde braided hair and beard aswell as his skin, weathered beyond his young years by cold and brine, take all doubt away.
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The two-week-long journey to the mountains began in the cosmopolitan city of Goka, passed through the surrounding villages and farmlands, and led thousands of feet up into the tallest mountain range on Golarion; all that remains is the final day’s journey up from the base camp.
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"Tricks, tall one? I know a pretty funny trick that you can play with itchwort powder... But you probably wouldn't like that. You bigger types never quite seeem to find gnome tricks very funny."
"If it's spells you mean, I can only cast a very few, since I'm still early in my training. Here are my two best: I can offer one person added protection against evil creatures and I can deliver a powerful electric shock to my enemies with a touch."
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While his fellows prepare for the day Horatius steps outside of their lodgings. The sun has just started to crest some of the peaks far off to the east and has yet to cast the last pools of shadow from the more western passes and valleys. All around the nearly horizontal rays of light glint off the snow and illuminate the vapor of every exhaled breath as if they were tiny clouds.
Gazing out over the vast wilderness and even larger sky, Horatius begins his daily prayers to Erastil. The uninitiated must no doubt find the hunter gods followers to be short in devotion for the act of praying would fairly be described as brief, marked only be a few words and moments of meditation. The truth of the matter though was that Erastil cared little for length speeches and empty words. His was a faith of action and it was best expresses as such.
To that end Horatius first spent time with both sword and bow, flowing through forms and exercises. The thin air made his lungs and muscles burn but after noting the feeling he pushed it aside. Once he had finished he saw to the care of all his gear, taking a whetstone to all his blades, sewing a tear in his cloak and applying oils to his leather goods. Finally he made his way about the base camp lending his aid to whomever seemed in need of it.
When the time to depart approached he checked over his gear once more and rejoined his companions.
The trip to the base camp in the low mountains on the edge of the Wall of Heaven takes 2 weeks from Goka. Led by two guides hired by the Lantern Lodge—Xue Ho and Hai Xuan the expedition reaches the destination without incident.
"The ascent from this point should you 1 full day of climbing if you follow the prescribed path and do not need to rest along the way."
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"Aye, best to make the most use of our daylight....
He looks towards the peaks taking in the vastness of the mountain range in a moment of silent contemplation...
"I wonder if they have ale up there..."
The thought of a big pint of ale brings a little smile on his face while he heaves his big backpack on his back.
When the party starts moving he starts whistling a bit of marching music to help set the pace and keep the morale up...
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Before setting out Horatius spends a few moments with their guides, "You will not be continuing on with us then? Perhaps you might share what threats we could run afoul of upon the trail or a bit of knowledge about the Monastery itself."
He thanks the men by name for what information they could provide and makes his way outward with the rest of the party. The whistled tune bringing a grin to his lips as he admires how quickly Pathfinders come together as a team.
Hai Xuan:
"Monks of Monastery not seen many years. In the past, trade with monks, but no more."
Xue Ho:
"Yes, big brother and smaller brother. Only blind can not see. Walk on path, you see."
Your two guides wave you off as you start packing, and warn you one more time of the dangers you can expect during the ascent.
"Be careful about cold and night. Be careful about snow things that hutn. Be careful about not good air high! Be careful about rocks that run."
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Looking to Horatius, Orri lifts an eyebrow as they walk back to the group.
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"I've been called loud on many an occasion..."
*chuckles*
...but never has my mouth compared to a horn before....
I see your point though, on the chance that the running rocks are not some kind of strange rock-monster, let's try NOT to call an avalanche upon us..."
Local legend maintains that the Two Brothers were once men who successfully protested against injustices using peaceful and nonviolent means. Upon death, their bodies were transformed into unyielding rock, corresponding to their nature in life. It was not uncommon for representatives of opposing groups to endure the harsh climb to meet here to engage in peaceful negotiation.
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The next few minutes of the trip the whistling fades and is slowly replaced by a pensive look. Leiff strolls on taking in his surroundings, almost seeming to recognize them. Afterwards he carefully lays out his tale...
"... speaking of stone! I did know this fellow Lo Pan once... A sailor as good as they come, but he couldn't handle that cheap rice wine that he used to pass around during dinner even if his life depended on it....
It was always a barrel of laughs though, and he had quite some stories from all the corners of the world. This particular one comes to mind about two locals though, two brother if i recall. Men of conviction both of them, keen on letting their opinions be heard whenever injustice was found near them.
Their way was one of non-violence, and those peaceful protests where met with great success as the legend goes. After they died their bodies were transformed into two stone formations, both as unyielding as their conviction in life. And judging from the surroundings I do believe we are on the path that runs in between Big Brother and Little Brother.
If memory serves, the local people used it as a sort of neutral ground for negotiations despite the harsh climb involved and it's remote location...."
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Lyn takes in the sight of the gigantic mountains with uncharacteristically breathless awe. The splendor and majesty of the peaks leave her gazing widely, with a slight grin on her face. Eventually she comes back to herself.
"Wow. Never in my life did I expect to see such sights!"
Turning to Leiff she says: "That's a great story! I'll have to write that down to tell my auntie when I get back home. If you know more about these mountains, do be sure to tell us!"
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"Indeed" Horatius responds to Orri with a nod. "Your tale is inspiring Master Skald. I should like to see these two brothers if given the chance. To stand up for ones convictions is noble enough but to do so while eschewing violence as well is a rare thing in this world."
Pulling his cloak a bit tighter against the cold he pushes on with the party.
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"Agreed, it would be nice to see such a place with one's own eyes...
Even though i'm not that well versed in the non-violent part, the tale does speak to the imagination..."
Leiff glances over his shoulder responding to Lynthara who walks next in the queue.
"No new stories come to mind at the moment, Lyn. Well no new ones at least. Been thinking about what those guide fellows tried to tell us though. *Not good air high* might be some effect of the thin air up here. If we exert ourselves too much it might play tricks on the mind, also the nights are rumoured to be mighty cold around these parts.... Good thing i packed an extra blanket...
On a brighter note, I do think if good old Lo would know of rock monsters he wouldn't have hesitated to spin a big Tale about it!
But we might as well be extra on the look out for those avalanches...."
A hint of a smile appears on Leiffs face, and he quietly whistles a familiar tune...
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Theor follows along with the others taking in the sights and trying to get a better feel for the new land.
"Interesting tale, though I'm more happy to hear there likely aren't giant rock monsters." he grins. "Let me scout ahead a bit, I've spent a good deal of time around rocks, though mostly underground. Perhaps I might spot some signs of an avalanche so we may avoid it."
Theor moves up to the lead with his bow at the ready for the time being. Moving cautiously and keeping a keen eye for any signs of danger.
After continueing on the path, you arrive at the first 'landmark' given to you by the description of your guides.
The base camp site, only a few hundred feet above the forest line that covers the lower reaches of the Wall of Heaven, offers a panoramic
view of the surrounding farmlands, far below. The half-flooded terraced farmlands appear silver and mirrored in the late afternoon light. The camp itself is little more than a trio of unmaintained wooden shacks surrounding the remnants of a large firepit and a fallen wooden corral fence to the east.
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During a short break in the climb Horatius takes the opportunity to speak with Leiff and Theor though making no effort to hide the conversation from the rest. "My friends I think it best that both of you know of a magical wand I was entrusted with by Silver Crusade after our last mission." he inclines his head towards Theor. Holding out his left arm he draws out a thin wooden wand that was tucked away beneath his bracer. "It is able to knit wounds and may well be of importance to us on our journey together. If I become incapacitated I believe either of you would be able to make use of it to the aid of the party."
Seeing that the rest of the party ready to depart he slips the wand back in place, shoulders his pack and starts walking.
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Upon the remains of the base camp coming into sight Horatius draws his blade and peers ahead. "It seems peaceful enough but shelter is a rare thing in this environment and does not stay empty long. We should be cautious."
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Leiff nods to Horatius...
Handy little sticks in a pinch, let's hope we won't need them...
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Leiff follows Horatius' lead, becoming silent for the first time in what seems a long while. He lets his backpack slide slowly to the ground. Slowly taking his shield and drawing his sword after that.
His eyes and ears take in the base camp. He tries to complement his companions so the looks are spread around evenly on the surroundings.
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"I have never seen a camp in our homeland left in such a state. Near the borderlands with Irrisen this usually means an attack has befallen this place. Sliding a javelin from its fur covered sheathe, the Ulfen gestures for everyone to draw their missile weapons. "Let us observe for a moment. Predators of these lands tend to be ambush hunters. If we can strike the first blow, we may drive off what did this."
The guides have lead you all this way, and now the night is falling. They inform you that it will be one days journey up towards the monastery, but this is the furthest they will go. They would like to sleep here with you, and return down in the morning.