The ship makes landfall at Quiesce a little ahead of schedule like the Captain predicted. The party does a little shopping and sight seeing before meeting with Kraig's contact for horses. A pawn broker, the man very seems eager to sell. You expect that there is something shady going on but you find out that he's moving his business to Marthos and he doesn't want to want to worry about transporting a small herd of horses with him. After much haggling you get eight combat trained medium warhorses from the man for the price of six riding horses (he insisted you take all his remaining horses), a cost of 450 gp.
You spent the next two weeks spent, riding, camping overnight, and staying at inns in small villiages here and there. On the morning of the 15th day as you near where Silver Leaf is supposed to be ...
The beautiful elven forest sleeps peacefully about. Leafy green trees with silver and white trunks stand in blissful grandeur as far as you can see. The trail you ride along head north and winds toward the river. The forest's carpet of ferns and deep green bushes is punctuated by the bright reds, blues, and yellows of the abundant woodland flowers.
Ahead, sunlight flashes off metal lying in the path. Armor-elven armor-and whoever wears it is not moving.
Fornok holds up his hands and carefully looks around.
+2 v. human.
He will then ride up to examine the body.
Ikvvy watches the surroundings while Furnok takes a look at whatever that is. She draws her bow and notches an arrow.
Furnock sees no more threats and getting up close to the body you can see that the elven warrior is clearly dead but it hasn’t been all that long since he died. A broken long sword is still in his hand and there are three crossbow bolts in his back. He wears a mithral chain shirt that’s in very bad shape as it’s clearly taken a lot of damage. The only other thing he has of interest is a letter written in both Elven and Common.
To thee of valor and honor:
I am an elven maiden called Rahasi. Our village of Silver Leaves has thrived for many years. Our Elders worked daily in the forest. Many of our young men studied in the temple and school complex we have some minor fame for. We made our homes in peace – but our peace is no more.
It was three weeks ago when the stranger, the Rahib, first came. He was a handsome man with broad shoulders. His deep-set eyes held a piercing glint that looked uncomfortably into one’s soul. His voice was soft and persuasive and anyone hearing it was almost certainly lulled into agreement. It was the consent of my father that the Rahib sought – and only to one end. My father refused him.
The next day he came to me and dropped to one knee saying, “Rahasia, your beauty is fabled throughout this land; almost as much as your father’s wealth, to possess you I have traveled far. But your father is unkind. He refused me, though I brought many riches as payment for you. Surely you will not refuse to go with me.” He grabbed my arm with an unbearable grip – I cried out.
My father heard me. And, in a rage bound from the house toward the stranger. With one great rush father drove him to the gates, and cast him forth.
On his knees like a common beggar, the stranger clung to the wall and uttered such a curse that the sky darkened and all the servants covered their heads in fear. In a deep rich voice, he intoned and evil chant we could not understand.
He then vanished into the forest. Under my father’s hand peace soon returned to my household. The curious visitor and the course were forgotten – until one week ago.
One day the young men who study at the temple and school and their teachers did not return to their homes. Their families became worried and went to the temple but were driven away by the students, known as the Siswa. My father, who sometimes taught at the temple, went there to discover what had happened. He has not returned.
My father’s wealth is also lost. I believe that his fortune was hidden in the lower recesses of the school. It is hard to believe the treasure has been stolen, for it includes many distinctive pieces that anyone, near or far, would recognize. There was a beautiful translucent marble jar inlaid with gold trim and six jewels. There were also two birds of platinum, resting on blue cloth threaded with gold, that would sing a tune. The birds were to be my dowry, without which I cannot be wed. There is also an ancient ring set with black jade that matches the pendant hung about my father’s neck. He told me that anyone who possesses both can wield great power for good.
Hasan, my betrothed, knowing that his family would not allow his marriage to me, now a maid without a dowry, and fearing for my father’s safety, also went to the school. He, too, has not returned.
Two days ago, the village council received a message. It was from the Rahib. He boasted that all the devoted Siswa who studied at the temple school are under a spell that will not be broken until the village gives the Rahib three maidens, including myself. The council refused. That night the Siswa attacked and kidnapped two other maidens, Sylva and Merisa, but I escaped.
All the villagers are in misery, for many of their sons are Siswa. Some people have begged me to give myself over to the wicked Rahib, but I dare not, lest I find that he has lied, and will not break his curse on the Siswa. I fear that unless we are helped, I shall never again see Hasan, my father, and my friends Sylva and Merisa.
Someone must rescue them and the Rahib must be forced to remove his curse upon the Siswa. Anyone who helps us will be well rewarded if they succeed. Without help, I have no choice but to give myself to the Rahib and hope and pray that he keeps his word and releases the others.
Rahasia
Ikvvy you spot a few more bodies about 100 yards up the trail. None of them are moving.
"Hey, Furnok, there are more!" She motions her hear to the path ahead and slowly moves that way. Stopping for a second, she takes a look at her companions, seeing if they could be mistaken as the killers.
Furnok brings back the letter to show the others. Let's get about 50 yards up and then I'll scout out the bodies. If the others agree, Furnok will walk his mount 50 feet up and then stealth through the shubbery to the bodies
Ikvvy reads the letter aloud so everyone can hear it. "They need our help! Let's waste no time!"
Buying Stuff:
"This seems just a little too convenient. We show up, and just happen to find a letter implicating one party in the cursing of another, with the second party requesting aid at once. Now, I'm not saying we don't go help them, but we really have to keep our eyes open here, people."
Marcos draws his shield and
"This is a tale with echoes... I do not doubt it, Marcos. As much as Fate has guided us, I cannot mistrust when I see Her hand, as much as this Rahasia's, in the elf-maid's letter. But I agree with your caution. A town might turn, the families of the taken girls embittered, weakening resolves turning hearts, we might not have all the allies we'd hope..."
"And what can break a sword?", Arean asks with a shudder, gesturing her hounds closer to her.
"But, if we manage to defeat or ban this man and break the enchantment on the Siswa, the whole city will be our ally. We need to get in the Siswa to access my contact and the Villa. Also, coincidence is no more. We're here to solve this, so, is anyone against it?"
"Arean, do you know of a way to break the spell that affects the Siswa?"
No objection.
"Swords break all the time. All it takes is the right blow at the right time, or possibly a deliberate attack with the proper tool."
Marcos draws his sword and points out the weak points.
"See, if you were to hit my blade here, across the flat with something hard and sharp, you might just snap it. Some folks even specialize in that kind of fighting, destroying their foes' weapons to prevent their use. I don't really subscribe to that style myself."
"But, if we manage to defeat or ban this man and break the enchantment on the Siswa, the whole city will be our ally. We need to get in the Siswa to access my contact and the Villa. Also, coincidence is no more. We're here to solve this, so, is anyone against it?"
"Arean, do you know of a way to break the spell that affects the Siswa?"
"A spell on many folk at once? To bind so many...", Arean muses, as her eyes fill with light...
When you reach the bodies you find and a mixed group 2 orcs, a kobold, 4 humans, and a dwarf. Not all are found on the trail, 2 of the humans and the dwarf are all the trail, all three have heavy crossbows. One of the orcs has the bottom half of a broken sword at his feet in his hands is a weapon known as a sword breaker. The other orc has a dagger rammed all the way through his eye so that the point is coming out the back of his head, what you can see of that blade gleams in the morning light. Except for the orc slain by the dagger all of the ones on the trail appeared to have been killed by a sword.
All of them are wearing old and and some cases ill fitting leather or studded leather armor. Next to a large oak tree you see a well cared for masterwork backpack.
Ikvvy carefully looks at the bodies, searching for coats-of-arms and/or a standard in their clothes. She also tries to identify if the bolts of the crossbow are the same ones she saw on the first body, or if their armors match that elven one.
Ikvvy, you've traveled enough in the wild lands to recognize bandit scum, and that's what you got here. These were definately the guys that killed the elf.
"Now that's the kind of tool I was talking about, Arean. See the heavy metal rods, off-set with that distance between them. You let your enemy swing at you, catch the blade in the middle of those prongs, then twist real hard. If you don't snap his sword, you probably just yanked it out of his hand."
Leaning down to scoop up the unusual weapon, Marcos hefts it appraisingly.
"Solid, heavy, would make a decent club, too, I suppose."
Marcos dismounts and looks around for tracks/spoor.
perception
survival
"Curious that all these things would be left behind. Especially the jeweled dagger. It's light and could have easily been taken." Brad heads toward the backpack and inspects the contents.
+1 if human.
Furnok gets down to help checking for tracks.
"That's because the dagger belonged to the Elf, who's now dead, and he was in a hurry to get away from them. He cut through this flock like butter, but his wounds led to his death. Maybe, even probably, there were more assailants than these. Do we got a couple minutes? Let's check the bodies and that backpack to see if we are lucky to find any orders they received. The backpack seems too attracting. Could be a trap." From 40 feet away she scans it for magic with Detect Magic
"A spell on many folk at once? To bind so many...", Arean muses, as her eyes fill with light..."But, if we manage to defeat or ban this man and break the enchantment on the Siswa, the whole city will be our ally. We need to get in the Siswa to access my contact and the Villa. Also, coincidence is no more. We're here to solve this, so, is anyone against it?"
"Arean, do you know of a way to break the spell that affects the Siswa?"
Arean begins to read aloud, her eyes flitting over unseen pages...
Of lasting magicks, are four known
By Mythal, ever-seeds are sown
By Enchant, bless and burdens blown
By Enspell, might secrets be known
By Curse, might chains o'er souls be thrown
Arean rocks a bit on her feet, obviously unaware, even, it seems, of gravity, her head craning to read a next unseen page even before her smouldering hand has turned its ghost. She turns another, and another, as though skipping ahead in some great tome...
Of Curse, four rem'dies, one is right
By cursling's lifting, if they might
Or cursling's death, by spell or smite
Or cursling's Master, bound by Light
Or curse's key... But which is right?
Beware, by Dark are curses laid
By wile, by will, and dark pact made
Wyrd-work be not a game that's played
Beware, of mis-step, be afraid...
"Now that's the kind of tool I was talking about, Arean. See the heavy metal rods, off-set with that distance between them. You let your enemy swing at you, catch the blade in the middle of those prongs, then twist real hard. If you don't snap his sword, you probably just yanked it out of his hand."
"What?", Arean asks, having somehow heard her name, in her phantom library.
Leaning down to scoop up the unusual weapon, Marcos hefts it appraisingly.
"Solid, heavy, would make a decent club, too, I suppose."
Marcos dismounts and looks around for tracks/spoor.
"Ah.", Arean says, remembering what she'd heard Marcos say, but forgetting what she'd said herself.
"Did I say anything useful?", she asks the company. "I remember a book...?"
"Yes, you spoke a beautiful poem depicting spells and curses. You said this is probably a curse, and that we have four ways of destroying it. By killing the responsible for it, or he could lift it himself, by disrupting the dark powers the responsible possesses, or by finding the key to the curse. Which he happen to have no idea of what it is. Could we ask for divine guidance for this?"
"I might could know what's been written, and then burned. But I think the story of this day, this town, this group... is yet unwritten. But I'll try. The library is flames and ashes. It'd go better, when I knew better, where to look. When we knew more. I'd guess our trackers are our leaders, this day."
"Oh no, I mean, literally! If our enemy - yes let's treat him like that for now - is consorting with the dark powers, we could do something to consecrate the place, so he would lose the connection in the Siswa and the curse would be lifted, couldn't we? Does anyone know how to do that?"
"I'm no priest...", Arean says weakly. "I've found I might... well, banish? No, more like, protect from, evil. But it might help a man free his own mind. If we had one of these Siswa at hand, and unarmed, please... then we might try that. But I've no knowin' of how to consecrate ground, or the like."
Marcos looks at Arean, hard.
"You asked about what could break a sword, then went into one of your trances. Is that going to be a problem going forward? You are in control of whatever is causing those, right?"
The soldier seems ill at east with the talk of curses, Dark Powers, and seeing the Oracle's apparent disconnection with reality.
"I have a bad feeling about all of this..."
Marcos looks at Arean, hard.
"You asked about what could break a sword, then went into one of your trances. Is that going to be a problem going forward? You are in control of whatever is causing those, right?"
"Um... mostly? It wasn't lack of control, nor rudeness, though I'm sorry if it seemed so. I just...", Arean reddens a bit, and continues, "I just didn't think you'd been paying attention to me."
The soldier seems ill at east with the talk of curses, Dark Powers, and seeing the Oracle's apparent disconnection with reality.
"I have a bad feeling about all of this..."
"I'd rather I had somethin' to say to comfort you. But we're like to have to battle innocents, their minds enslaved. It's not a worthy fight, as worthy fights go. Let us hope we find they can be prized from the bonds on their wills."
"No hard feelings, Arean. It's just a little...off-putting, how you sort of tune out."
"No hard feelings, Arean. It's just a little...off-putting, how you sort of tune out."
"Imagine looking up from what you thought was a moment's time, and the room has emptied. I have the hounds because I can be quite helpless... unaware. Half-aware, perhaps is better. Even if I didn't hear you, I remember what you said, though. Thank you, for honoring the question."
"Okay, then. Remember, you have family to look after you now, as well. Just try not to zone out in the middle of something dangerous...that would be bad."
"I'll try. I'm not much other use. I suppose I might set the hounds on them, but that seems... final?"
"That seems dangerous for them" - says Ikvvy, turning her head from her search on the body to speak, then she returns to focus on the task. "But useful. They helped us against the Globster. We're all in danger after all."
"I would mourn them. They are friends, even... children. I travel, as a healer, a dancer, or neither, whatever might lose a pursuer, or not be whatever I was last, traveling ahead of any harvest. It's lonely, and they've been there. Friends. I would mourn them. But I'm from Herzag. Where the Goblin sing, 'Wolf is shield, Wolf is arrow, Wolf skin armor, Wolf bone marrow', and I understand, they're not men.", Arean says grimly, but then smiles. "But they're also not wolves. And I'm not a Goblin."
"And I meant it would be final, for the enemy. I'm not sure I could stop them."
Marcos and Furnock inspect the tracks of the battle and from the signs they read it is as if they watched it with their own eyes. The elf moving a at quick pace down the trail, only to be ambushed by the bandits. The elf slaying the crossbow men with some kind of magic only to have the remaining bandits swarm him like a pack of wolves. Wolves which he was cutting down with his sword until it was broken. The elf resorted to using his dagger which got stuck in the skull of his last oppenent (DC 15 STR check to remove). The elf managed to kill all of his attackers but then died from his wounds.
The elf was clearly coming down trail from the villiage.
Ikvvy's detect magic shows that the dagger in the skull is magical, and there are three sources of magic in the backpack. Opening the backpack you find 2 potion bottles, a irovy scroll tube, 5 days of trail rations,and the items you would find in a pathfinder's kit.
Once the dagger is pulled from the skull it is revealed to be made of mithral and has a small ruby in the hilt. The scroll has 6 spells on it 2 purify food and water, 2 create water, and 2 mending.
The bandits collectively have 40cp, 35sp, 10ep, 18gp, 2pp. There are also 3 heavy crossbows, 4 suits of leather armor, 4 suits of studded leather armor 8 daggers, the swordbreaker, 4 short swords, and 4 spears. The elf had a belt pouch with 10cp, 10sp, 10ep, 10gp, 10pp, a small emerald worth 50gp in it.
The elf was moving quick and was ambushed from the sides. He was a skilled warrior to cut down so many but was overwhelemd and thus his sword was broken. After slaying the last, he succumbed to his wounds.
Eldrian kneels to examine the dead elf and whispers a quick prayer for his soul in elvish. Bandits here? Likely they were in league with the one who had enchanted the Siswa and did not wish the message to get out. Common bandits do not fight to the death after losing half of their men.
"We need to find this girl and set whatever is wrong with them right."
"Yes, we do. This is an Oil to enhance your weapon with magic, but this potion I've no idea what does it do, and this dagger I have never see alike. Do you Arean?"
Knowing ever resource could be necessary, Ikvvy takes the pieces of the broken elvish sword and analyzes it. [i]If he had a magical spare dagger his sword would probably be magical too. "I know one or two things about equipment in general, but I'd like to know if this sword is of quality. Can anyone help me? I it is valuable I'll fix it with the scrolls later, and thus we could use it."
Then she's ready to move in, finding no extra precaution is necessary until they get a glimpse of the village.
"We need to honor this hero. I have fire, but the smoke declares us. Burial delays us. Can we at least shroud him, and return him to his people? WE may be the help he was he was seeking. It is sad, he did not know he had found it."
"Skilled in blade and magic, this elf was quite the warrior. I do not see why we cannot shroud him and carry him along. If we are to assist his people, they might as well know what happened here, after all."
Marcos helps gather up the weapons and gear, bundling everything onto the spare horses before wrapping the fallen elf up and gently placing him across the beast.
"We may be approaching maximum load soon, although much of that is food for us and the horses. That will lighten as we travel quickly."
"We'll bring his body with us. If I were dead, I'd want to be taken home. That is, if I had a home." He gives Marcos a hand.
Furnok helps witht he body. A cairn is also an option if we are unable to take him with us.
"Yes, we do. This is an Oil to enhance your weapon with magic, but this potion I've no idea what does it do, and this dagger I have never see alike. Do you Arean?"
Knowing ever resource could be necessary, Ikvvy takes the pieces of the broken elvish sword and analyzes it. [i]If he had a magical spare dagger his sword would probably be magical too. "I know one or two things about equipment in general, but I'd like to know if this sword is of quality. Can anyone help me? I it is valuable I'll fix it with the scrolls later, and thus we could use it."
"However our Elf would judge him best honored, with it buried beside, or bourne into battle..."
"...It's odd an Elf would guess at need to see in the dark. Isn't it? For that's what that other does. And for the dagger..."
Arean ponders the dagger, and her eyes flare again...
Joy and wonder fill Arean's face as she revisits the weapon's history, and then horror and fear, and sorrow, as the review comes to the current day. Drained, she discloses, "It's wont to return to the hand that throws it. It's a grand blade." Arean had taken a succession of battle-worthy grips on the hilt during her ponderings, but now she sets the weapon down as though it were an infant, or a scorpion. "A grand blade."
Might be a good addition to those who don't use bows or crossbows.
"You're good at this Arean, you've gotta teach me a thing or two. But elves can't see in the dark, only in dim light..."