Mendev’s Pathfinder lodge in the capital city of Nerosyan is housed within Starrise Spire, a defensive tower in the outer wall whose pinnacle glows with a celestial light that shines out like a beacon, simultaneously giving comfort to Nerosyan’s defenders and acting as a warning to any who might wish the city harm.
Our Pathfinder Heroes have received a summons from Venture-Captain Jorsal of Lauterbury to meet in a common room near his office, a humbly furnished large room with a beautiful balcony overlooking the city. Simple refreshments of bread, cheese, meat, wine, and ale have been left out for those who might be waiting for a meeting on the large central table that has more than enough chairs for everyone.
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"Hoy," greets a Vudrani human woman with henna tattoos on her hands, wearing yellow and black silks under a mithral breastplate. Sitting with her feet propped up with ankles crossed on one of the spare chairs, she leans toward the center of the table and selects a slice of cheese. With her other hand, she lifts a cup of wine to her mouth, and as she leans her head back a birthmark on her neck is clearly visible in the shape of Calistria's triple ring of daggers.
After draining the wine cup, she bites into the cheese and asks with her mouth full, "Never been this far north before - how about you lot of land lubbers?"
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A tall, slender Elf in a dark grey cloak enters as the Vudrani woman speaks and surveys the room...he sees no familiar faces from his previous missions...
He gives a curt bow. "Flyn, at your service." He walks up to the table and grabs some bread, cheese, and wine, then takes a seat.
"No ma'am, never been north of the Verduran forest, afore being summoned here." He then starts in on the refreshments...
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A young Taldan man, clad in blues and whites, enters the room. He removes his kasa, revealing a shaved head. He does not seem to have many possessions, but it is clear his bow is well kept and his quiver has seen long years of use.
"Greeting to you all. My journeys have also never led me here until this point. My apologies, I am called Bo."
The monk pour himself some water and finds a seat.
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Ducking under the doorframe, the large, bald northman enters the room. He bears extensive facial tattoos of runic designs and heavy woad on the lower part of his jaw and continuing down his neck.
He wears a fur collared cloak with a silvery metal breast plate beneath, leaving his thick arms free of encumbrance. His simple yet sturdy cloth breaches are tucked loosely into his heavy leather boots.
Resting on his right shoulder is a massive metal earthbreaker and in his left hand he carries a large jug with the red stain of wine around its uncorked mouth.
Despite his menacing appearance his smile is wide and his eyes practically dance with amusement as he greets his fellow pathfinders.
"HELLO THERE FRIENDS!" he booms! "Well met one and all. I am Braxus. Tis a fine day for adventure and drink. I brought the drink... I expect you brought the adventure." he says with an exaggerated wink and a loud, rumbling chuckle.
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Org, his tongue sticking out to the right side as he is trying to carve his initial into the table he is sitting in, abruptly looks up.
The half orc's gaze goes to each person there and he smiles a BIG TOOTHY GRIN, his over sized tusks protruding out a bit.
There is a thick chain wrapped around his waist with a ball at the end of it. It jingles a bit as he moves.
Hello! Name is Org.
He scratches his chest and farrows his brow a bit.
What's a lubber?
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Vespaja grins. She stands and walks over to Braxus, placing a hand on a huge arm while gesturing with her other as if presenting a prized head of livestock. "A lubber," she starts, addressing Org and the rest of the table while patting the Ulfen man on his beefy arm, "is a lout. An oaf. A big galoot." She turns up and grins at Braxus. "Just some good-natured teasing, eh?"
She swings around to the other side of Braxus and taps a finger on his uncorked wine jug, then holds up her now-empty wine cup. "I've brought plenty of adventure, but we can't do so while thirsty, can we?"
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The monk looks slightly confused for a moment, "How does one 'bring adventure'?"" His eyes travel from Braxus to the jug and once again to the lady garbed in honor of...Calistra. His eyes go wide as he starts to blush, "Oh...adventure! Yes, um sorry for intruding on your fornica...or rather sex..er...prayers to your godess." Bo looks to Org, whispering, "Did you know about all the sex? Will they do it here? That would be a little uncomfortable." The young Taldon stands up, but with no where to go, walks toward a painting on the wall and takes great interest in it.
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Not minding the playful insults, Braxus chuckles at Vespaja, returning her grin with one of his own.
As he pours the rich wine into the offered cup, Braxus laughs loudly, "No we can't be thirsty! That is against my religion!"
Turning to the rest of the group, he gestures to his wine jug while offering, "Anyone else up for a cup? It helps warm the spirit."
He has enough in his jug to fill reach Pathfinder's cup twice over before breaking into his wine skins.
After happily pouring wine to all that would partake, Braxus catches sight of the food spread out before them and quickly sets his weapon down before moving to grab a handful and unceremoniously begins to eat.
"Well," he says through a mouthful of food, "Anyone know much about the plan here?"
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Flyn grins widely at the conversation. Not so reserved as my companions of past missions...this should prove quite an experience...
"Aye, I could use a refill if you'd be so kind...and nay, other than the summons I know naught for sure...but, seeing where we were summoned to, I'd guess it'd have something to do with the current Mendevian Crusade."
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After filling Flyn's cup to the brim, the big northman sits, soon kicking his feet up on a nearby chair. He absentmindedly taps the fingers of one hand on the table while he finishes his handful of cheeses and breads with the other.
"Might as well rest a bit and fill up while we can, 'cause the last time the Society sent me someplace was... let's just say it was bloody. Fact of the matter is, they don't tend to send be places to make nice, though I wouldn't mind if they did!"
Seeing the young taldan archer straining to stare at the wall instead at the tall Vudrani woman with the henna tattoos, Braxus rumbles, "Hey! Boy! Get your head out of your...wall... and pay attention to the woman. If you don't, I will, that is if she doesn't mind. It has been a long road getting here." he says the last with a wide grin.
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Org leans in and listens to Bo. he then sits upright a bit and appear to be deep in thought, or you think so from the farrowed brow and tongue hanging out of the left side of his mouth. He scratches the back of his head, appears to find something then stick it in his mouth.
Org is not too sure but I think .....no.....I think....
Org pauses for a moment.
Org is not sure. He says, then realizes Bo has walked away.
Org picks up his mug, puts a bit in front of his face and peers out from behind it, watching those around him and sipping occasionally.
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Vespaja's smirk warps into a snarl as she snaps at Bo, "I speak of fire and blood and violence in driving back demons. You'd do well to remember that my prayers are for vengeance as much as for anything else, cur."
She takes a swig of her newly refilled wine and points an accusatory finger at Braxus as well. "You don't start with that, neither." At this point her snarl has relaxed into just a sneer, and she stops pointing to place her hands on her hips. "I'm here to fight. If you want to sate your flesh, you can go to any Calistrian temple and pay for that service," she says matter-of-factly. After another sip of wine, she grins. "Just make sure you bring enough gold, lubber."
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Flyn watches the interchange quietly. Being an Elf, he is respectful of Calistria and thinks it best not to comment on certain aspects of Calistrian worship in a public forum...not to mention in front of a fierce and capable priestess of said goddess. Erastil, keep me on her good side...if she's as tough on demons as she is on those two, we're in good company...
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Holding his hands up, as if in surrender, Braxus finishes his mouthful with a loud swallow and smiles at the fiery woman. Somehow the handful of food he had carried over to the table is completely gone.
"I am glad you're on our side woman. Your Goddess chose well when she blew life into you." he says appreciatively.
He suddenly takes his booted feet off the the nearby chair and leans forward, crossing his massive arms in front of him and placing them onto the table which groans in protest. "I have some fire and violence for demons as well." he says in the first serious tone since his arrival. "My blood and their blood has a score to settle, and it's tally runs long and deep." his eyes grow narrow and his skin seems to brighten as he speaks.
Soon he relaxes, his easy grin returning, and his skin fades back to the dark tan of a warrior that has seen many days fighting in the sun.
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Feeling even greater mortification at misinterpreting the situation, Bo tries to regain some measure of composure, "My apologies Miss Vespaja, I meant no disrespect. As to the demons, I only have a score of arrows tipped with cold iron. I suspect I may need more if we plan to venture deeper into the 'Wound."
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Vespaja’s ire spent for now, the priestess allows a smirk to return to her face. ”Glad we got that all worked out. I'm sure you'll taste demonic blood soon enough, Braxus.” she assures the man, nodding to Bo as well to acknowledge his apology.
She turns to the woman playing with the wolf, hands still on her hips. ”Hoy there, you got a name? And how about that dog of yours?” she asks.
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Looking up just a bit but not really paying too much attention to the woman, though assessing the threat she may pose instead.
"Honey, and this is Terra her voice could almost be mistaken for a growl with how rough it is
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Looks up at the woman that was addressed, though her body shifts slightly more to guard her companion
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The big man pours out a cup of wine, then sets it on the floor and nudges it toward the wolf with his boot.
"Everyone should smile today, for tomorrow may never come for some. May the ice be always firm beneath your feet, and the wind be at your back." He toasts with a full cup of his own, drinking deep.
After a few minutes have passed, the doors at one end of the meeting room open, and there stands Venture-Captain Jorsal of Lauterbury calls. A middle-aged Mwangi man with greying hair, he closes the door to the spire’s interior, gesturing for the team to do the same. He waits a few more minutes for everyone to become situated before speaking.
“We Pathfinders of Mendev,” he states, making a sweeping hand gesture that encompasses everyone present, “have our own agendas, but these must sometimes give way to the greater need: the protection of this land and its people from the horrors that dwell in the Worldwound.
We are here by the grace of her majesty, Queen Galfrey of Mendev. Without her support, we would surely be run out of town by Hulrun’s more fervent followers. Our agreement with her states that all Pathfinders are required to volunteer some of their time in the defense of the realm. As relative newcomers, I’ve recommended you to take part in a minor military mission under the command of a veteran crusader named Sir Ilivan of Erages. Although he is not a Pathfinder, you would be wise to follow his advice, as he has been fighting the Abyssal spawn longer than some of you have been alive. I expect you will give him the respect he deserves.”
Venture-Captain Jorsal stands and opens the heavy wooden door leading back into the lodge, revealing a tall half-elven man clad in heavy plate armor, wearing a red tabard typical of the Mendevian Crusaders, and carrying a cavalry helmet in his left hand. He gives a professional nod to Jorsal before striding to the front of the group, surveying everyone with poorly disguised disappointment.
“Pathfinders,” he barks in quick staccato without further preamble, “our mission is simple. The recent attacks on the wardstones have compromised our defenses, and the enemy presses its advantage. We have received word of attacks on Fort Portolmaeus to the north, but the crusader leadership suspects that other parts of the line may have been breached as well.
We will proceed to Fort Portolmaeus tomorrow morning on horseback to assess the damage, using the passphrase ‘That the Black Prince might be redeemed’ to permit us entry. On the way there, we will scout for enemy movements and other signs of demon activity. Once we have completed our assessment, we are to return to Nerosyan and you will be relieved of your obligations to the Crown. Do you have any questions?”
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"Aye, I've heard of these wardstones," Vespaja pipes up after Sir Ilivan speaks. "Guess the demons got the better of 'em of late, what with their surgin' into Nerosyan. Honestly, I'm surprised the ones that failed lasted as long as they did! Just a big bunch of standing rocks, magic or not, doesn't seem like it should do much against a horde o' demons. But I suppose you Avistani have your ways up north here, no?"
With a mischievous smirk, she sidles up to the half-elven knight and speaks loud enough for everyone to hear, "I heard that you used to be a freshwater smuggler on Lake Encarthan. No shame in that," she says, her grin widening. "I spent some time down in The Shackles afore I joined up with the Pathfinders myself, so I'm sure we'll get along like birds of a feather."
Backing off from Sir Ilivan, she takes a position with her fellow Pathfinders at a more respectful distance. "You know this place well enough, do you not? Are you expecting any particular information as we scout along the way? Any particular demonic activity we should be on the lookout for? Any more info on the attack on the Fort?"
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Since the last major attack, the demonic armies have retreated into the Worldwound’s interior. We will most likely face minor demons sent to test the current efficacy of the wardstones. Expect dretches, brimoraks, and possibly schirs.
Ilivan turns to Vespaja and looks her up and down, his eyes resting on her Calistrian tattoo before nodding curtly, seemingly unaffected by her close proximity.
Yes, I used to be a smuggler. Damn good one too. But Iomeda gave me the redemption that I sought, and then gave me the power to use the strength I found in that redemption as her tool against evil. The past is not erased, but it is forgiven as I give my life to serve good. I hope your faith in The Savored Sting lends you the solace for your former life that it did for mine, and the power necessary to survive here at the wound.
As she steps away from him, he continues.
I know the dangers of the world wound well enough, and with any luck, you won't have to face anything too difficult. As for any information on the attack on the fort, the report was rushed and minimal, merely reporting nearby attacks. Simply put, we need boots on the ground and eyes on the damage to know the extent.
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Braxus slams his feet to the floor causing the nearby chairs and even the heavy wooden table to jump and shift position as he does so, sending cups and plates scattering. He stands to his full height and eyes the half-elven crusader before him up and down.
"Sir Ilivan of Erages, eh? Hmm, I think I heard of you. Erages is in Kyonin right?" He pauses to scratch his chin in thought.
Before anyone can interject, he raises his hand from his chin and punches the ceiling as his eyes go wide and he smiles. "I remember now!" he says loudly and with genuine excitement.
It isn't long before his smiles fades into an angry frown, "I heard those elves didn't treat you fairly as a young one, going out of their way to make sure you got the short end of the stick more often than not. That's a rough way to grow up. Just 'cause you weren't a full blooded elf? Shame on the lot of 'em!" he growls.
"To my mind you have just as much blood as any of 'em, just like the rest of us. The stories that I've heard passed around are you spilled more than your share for this here crusade. Even got knighted by the Queen for your efforts! Good on you man, and good on the Queen for seeing worth goes deeper than skin." His big smile is clearly one of respect as he nods his head approvingly.
He suddenly thumps his chest with one hand, as if in salute, and he hefts his massive earthbreaker with the other, bringing it to rest over his shoulder. "Lead on man. I'm with you. And if any demons are stupid enough to get near us, that is just to damn bad for them." He says the last, eyeing the rest of the group with a wicked grin. "Yeah, you all feel it too. I can tell."
Sir Ilivan nods to Braxus, his face stony and his eyes hard, but appreciative.
Thank you. Her Majesty is a kind, good leader, and I'm proud to serve her. I will not pretend that the mistreatment I received in Kyonin did not guide me into who I am, but I like to think it strengthened me, helped me realize that blood is not what matters, it is actions, and deeds that make us who we are.
He turns and looks to the group and meets each team members eyes one by one before continuing.
You pathfinders are not my soldiers. I can't, strictly speaking, make you obey me. However, if your smart, you'll listen to my orders and follow my lead, it'll give you the best chance to survive. The demons of the world wound are a horror that will shake even the mightiest of wills, so don't get cocky. Once we adjure here, we'll meet at the front gate in a few hours to give you time to gather your things and make any last minute preparations. The fort isn't to far, but it's gonna be a bit of a trek, so be prepared for the march. Now, are there any last questions before we set out? Otherwise, I'll see you in the field beyond the front gate.
The Venture-Captain Jorsal of Lauterbury nods along with Sir Ilivan and stands, hinting that they should adjourn and be on their way.
Pathfinders, You have your mission. Remember, Explore, Report, and Cooperate. Come back in one piece, and please don't embarrass the society, the Queen is already extending us a favor by letting us work in her region in return for us lending our strength to their cause, don't do anything that might make her regret extending that favor. As Sir Ilivan said, any last questions?
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Vespaja gives Sir Ilivan a wink and says, "Aye, captain. Lots of walking and no funny business." She smirks, and it's difficult to say whether that indicates she was being sarcastic or not.
She takes the spiky-headed morningstar from her weapon belt and makes a little flourish with it. "I fought a demon in Jalmeray not too long ago. The thing's flesh didn't bleed too easy. I'm sure you shiny knights have some better weaponry for dealing with them, no?" she asks, examining the plain iron weapon in her hand with a mix of boredom and disappointment. "Other than that, I am ready. It's too bad there's no waterway, but I've got sturdy boots."
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The young monk approaches Ilivan. He places fist in palm and bows deeply before the man. He rises and makes direct eye contact with the former smuggler. "I have much to learn about Golarion and how it works. The purpose of my travels is heighten my awareness so I can find
my true self and establish my place in this world. You seemed to have done just that. You have found your true place. I would be honored to learn from your experience Master. I look forward to my time under your tutelage." With that, the monk returns to his seat and respectfully waits for departure.
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"The demons I've tussled with all smashed easy enough." he says holding up his wicked looking weapon. "Everyone kept tellin' me they were tough too so I'll just take your word for it."
Leaning over to Vespaja he says in a lower tone, "He used a couple of words I never heard before, like effe-kasey, and ahd-joor. I think I worked out what they mean from how they were sitting between other words he used. If I need help understanding him on the march, you think you can help me out?"
"It must be an elven thing... Or maybe it was actually ELVEN!"
Sir Ilivan chuckles darkly.
This is the world wound. Going outside means fighting for your life against the forces of hell, let alone going on a scout and report. Yes, our goal is to find out the damage and report it. But don't let the mission parameters fool you into thinking this will be "Safe." Like I said, follow my orders, don't do anything stupid, and don't get yourselves killed.
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Caught off guard by Org's words, Braxus stares open mouthed at the previously simple spoken half orc before looking to Vespaja and them back to Org.
"Where did Org go and what did you do with him!" the big man asks playfully but still with a somewhat shocked look dancing around his eyes.
Then looking again to Vespaja he mutters, "Recon-a-what?"
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Sir Illivan waits outside the gates, seated on his powerful charger, a brown steed that calmly nibbles at the little grass available. After checking that the team is equipped and ready for travel, he begins the march along the River Road, a normally well-used thoroughfare that follows the eastern bank of the West Sellen River. It remains within sight of the river throughout most of the journey to Fort Portolmaeus, traveling inland for a few miles. After a bit, Sir Ilivan turns off of the River Road onto a small, overgrown path that cuts through drooping evergreens. As the team travels, the undergrowth steadily becomes thicker, and after looking closer, the team can see that the trees are apple and pear trees, and that this is an abandoned orchard of some sort. Sir Ilivan eventually comes to a stop and slides off his horse, tying the steed to a apple tree where the beast happily begins to chew on fallen apples.
Sir Ilivan pats his horse a few times.
Be good Rokko. I'll be back soon.
He turns to the team, his voice quiet and hushed.
Up ahead is Bedis, a small fishing and farming village, until the demons drove out it's people almost 40 years ago. Nowadays, we mostly use it as a stop off point to let horses water and eat in the old orchards here before continuing on. Now, the village itself is just up ahead, and the enemy has used it as a staging ground in the past. There also happens to be a hill that's a damn good vantage point that will let us see into the village without being spotted ourselves. I want to drop in, make sure there is no amassed enemy forces, and then continue on. Follow me, and keep quiet.
He leads the team further on, slowly making their way up a small hill which crests to allow the team to see an abandoned village lies at the foot of the hill on the banks of the West Sellen River, its decaying structures slowly melting back into the landscape. Between the hill and the village proper lie flooded fields sectioned off by raised, earthen
walkways that converge on a larger, dry area.
Standing on this dry hillock are 6 people, 2 of them lying down in obvious paid while the others stand around, holding threshes, spades, pitchforks, and other farming implements. They strike out occasionally, striking the two on the ground who groan or scream in pain. Next to them, a small heap of bodies, dead by all appearances, lies near.
After a moment, one of the bodies rises from the pile of dead and walks over to join the group torturing the two on the ground.
Sir Ilivan's face curls in disgust and he spts on the ground.
Cultists I bet. Fools, hoping the demons will give them reprieve if their vile acts are done in their name. Pathetic. Necromancy to, just to ensure their souls are damned and consumed by the beasts of hell. It's just a small batch of them though, nothing worth wasting our time on.
He looks around for a moment before turning his back on the scene.
Let's get moving team. There is no greater force here to report on. We have a mission to get back to.
He begins to walk away from the scene below, his face a stony mask.
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Flyn takes a close look at those on the hill...
Shocked at what he sees, he whispers to Sir Ilivan and his companions. "Not all of those people down there are human...at least two are not what they seem...must be some sort of demon possessing or controlling those bodies. We need to go down there and rescue the others..."
Flyn, a bit shocked at Sir Ilivan's words, looks to the crusader. "Sir, with respect, surely what I've just told you must change your assessment..."
Sir Ilivan turns, his face flashing in anger momentarily before resuming his stony masked countenance.
Hardly. Two minor demons do not a host make. It's not worth the time to waste killing cultists, or the possible danger we may put ourselves in. It just means that the idiots actually succeeded in conjuring up the demons they so worship before getting themselves killed. Even assuming the two down their are "Pwor fwightened Innocents" then they'll just be killed the moment we go down there, and nothing will be solved except risking our skin, and then who will finish the mission and provide the report that command needs?
His voice is stiff, angry, and obviously holding back scorn and derision.
Besides, anyone who lets themselves get possessed by demons deserves what comes to them afterwards. Their weakness aids the enemy just as much as picking up the sword in the name of the dark prince does. Leave them, and let's march on.
You can really feel the hate in his voice as he finishes.