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A rail-thin, pale elf walks in, looking like he hasn't seen the sun in far too long. "Bah. You help deal with one zombie uprising--a job you weren't even intended to do--and then all of a sudden there's all this talk about making you a 'field agent.' I should have stayed behind my desk." He glances around, taking you all in. "Ah, hello. My name is Amarandlon Svethaniel. I believe you've been sent to assist me, or somesuch."
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A dwarf with an intense gaze enters the room and looks the other Pathfinders over.
He carries a fine warhammer and bears medium armor, as well as the holy symbol of the dwarven deity Dranngvit around his neck.
"Io Hammerhand, at yer service,"[/b] he says. "I'll be of 'elp in close combat, as will me animal friend Kradvid ye'll meet later. I know a thing or two 'bout different varieties o' monsters an' 'ow ta identify 'em. I'll also be collectin' debts where they're due," he adds.
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"Hasshin, good to have you beside me again, as I am sure I wouldn't want you facing me when in battle!"
Callan Domhnal the half-orc is a menacing sight. Standing at 6'1 and 270 lbs. of twisted steel and 'angergy', his outwardly human appearance is sharply offset by his full-on orcish demeanor. He is clad in a masterwork breastplate and is armed with a wicked masterwork great axe, a stout composite short bow and his trusty dagger 'nail.'
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A varisian traveller enters the room and looks about sizing up the fellow adventurers present. With dark features he is wrapped in subdued hues of purple, blue and white. With a rapier on his hip and darts on his belt he wears a thin chain shirt over his chest. Issac has a confident smile on his face and almost looks like he is checking of a mental list.
"Just as I predicted, you are all very strange folk. That is most excellent and I would not have it any other way. I am Pathfinder Initiate Issac Jansen the Third but, you may all just call me Issac or Izzy if you prefer something more familiar." Issac places his hand to his head and closes his eyes to focus.
"Hmm I see that the time for our briefing will be soon at hand."
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The invitation delivered last night was remarkably simple, especially given the importance of the occasion: “Start where it all began. Meet us at the Pig’s Paunch Wounded Wisp one hour before dawn.” The Wounded Wisp is a run-down building with a faded wooden sign hanging from above the bar’s entrance. A brass ring fitted onto the sign anchors a lantern—referred to by the staff as “the wisp”—that hangs there during the evening hours. Inside, the air is thick with the scents of human sweat, stale tobacco, and leftover food. In the center of the room, surrounded by inebriates sleeping off their revelries, a familiar elven man stands high upon top of a large round table.
“Welcome! Welcome, my students! Please, have a seat!” With that, Kreighton Shaine, the Pathfinder Society’s Master of Scrolls, nimbly drops down to sit cross-legged on the table before looking about the tavern with a sense of reverent wonder.
“Can you believe it? It all started here years ago—well, over four hundred of them at least. Under this very roof the Pathfinder Society was born. But today! Today you will begin your Confirmation! Master Farabellus, Master Zey, and I all agree you each have shown your worth and dedication to the Society, so there’s no better time to see if you can handle becoming full field operatives. Allow me to introduce you to Janira Gavix,” he says as he motions for an excitable halfling woman to approach.
She wears a large backpack and carries all manner of tools, pouches, and scroll cases around her waist. Shaine continues, saying, “Janira here will be going with you on your Confirmation. She was one of my brightest pupils and will no doubt be an invaluable resource on your journey, for she discovered the caves you are about to explore during her own Confirmation.”
Janira speaks up in an enthusiastic and cheerful voice, “Greetings, aspiring Pathfinders! What a pleasure this is to meet the new generation of adventurers! But we'll talk pleasantries later, since Master Shaine's time is precious. Six months ago, while I was mapping cave entrances in the foothills of the Kortos Mounts, I witnessed a lone gillman entering a concealed cave. I thought little of it at the time, but I saw another one enter the cave again a month later as my Confirmation stretched on. A few days later, after I completed my assigned task, I entered the cave system, but was unable to find the gillmen.”
Master Shaine hops to his feet. “Initiates, for your Confirmation, you will travel to these caves to explore and document its many passages. Additionally, and most importantly, you are to learn what the gillmen are up to in there. Oh, and you need to come back alive as well.” With these parting words, the Master of Scrolls jumps off the table and strolls out of the building while humming to himself.
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Janira smiles brightly at each and every one of you. "Nice to meet you all! It's an honor to meet you all. You'll have to forgive Master Shaine. He is brilliant, if not entirely focused. He has lived a very long time and seen things we could only dream about. I’ve learned to just accept his peculiarities and value any knowledge he wishes to share."
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At the center of the Isle of Kortos stand the Kortos Mounts, the points on the island.
Entire tribes of centaurs, harpies, and minotaurs constantly vie for territory up and around the Mounts, with harpies being the most common at higher altitudes and centaurs controlling the lower slopes and foothills.
Also known as the Low Azlanti, the gillmen are an amphibious humanoid race believed to be the last descendants of the ancient Azlanti people.
During Earthfall, the Starstone struck Golarion and destroyed the human empires of Thassilon and Azlant. It is said that gillmen’s ancestors survived the cataclysmic event because they received the blessing of an aquatic entity that allowed them to breath underwater.
Most scholars believe the terrifying aboleths were responsible for the gillmen’s transformation. Any alliance between them appears to have fallen apart over the millennia, however, and the gillmen are now an independent people.
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"On to the details of the mission at hand", Janira says with an eager grin. "After reviewing my mission reports personally, Master Shaine believes it is no coincidence that each time they entered the caves it was during a full moon, so it is also no coincidence that you have been called here now, just a day before the moon is full again. We both believe that tomorrow night is our best chance to find out why these caves are important and what exactly the gillmen are doing in there."
"The caves we’ll be travelling to lie under the base of the Kortos Mounts. We’ll need to spend every minute of daylight possible to reach the caves by foot, crossing over the Cairnlands, taking the paths to Diobel, and finally making our way through the wilderness. With any luck we won’t run into any of the local inhabitants. Once in the caves, we’ll need to work together to explore and determine whether any gillman are present or have been recently. Keep an eye out for any other clues that might hint at the caves’ significance, too."
"Now, before we head out, if there aren’t any more questions, we should take a moment to go through your gear and make sure nothing important gets left out. A Pathfinder never know what he's going to encounter in his journey, so preparation is paramount. The most basic adventurer's gear should be covered - a bedroll, filled waterskin, rations in case we're prevented from hunting, something to light a fire with, pots to cook. Add to that list a rope and maybe a grappling hook, you never know when you'll have to climb up a cliff or two. Finally, weapons carried should be various and efficient against different types of creatures. Anyone has an alchemist fire or two? Swarms of vermin seem to be on the common side during our adventures."
"Lastly one of your duties is to report, so I took the liberty of bringing pieces of parchment so that you could write whatever information you deem worthy of attention from Master Shaine. Please use them freely, I can provide more."
As the halfling brings that to your attention, memories of your three years of apprenticeship in Absalom's Grand Lodge flash in your mind. The three masters' constant reminder of the duties of a Pathfinder still echo in your ears.
Explore. Report. Cooperate.
How to forget what has become a second nature for some, a veiled pretext for others among the Society. Where do you stand? As you haven't had a real chance to put your long training to the test, you also ignore if your heart will stay true to the Pathfinder's motto.
Janira pulls out a large leather-bound journal and opens it on the table. "Before we set out, we should all get to know each other and review our plan. After all, the most important factors that determine whether an expedition will be a success are cooperation and preparation! I’ll go first!"
"I am the eldest of seven children in my family, and the only one to have come of age so far. My family always had a strong faith in Desna, but rest assured that it doesn't diminish my interest in all religions, as I believe they all have something to teach us. I've joined the Society four years ago to see the world and sample all the fine food it has to offer! As you see, I'm a bit of a gourmet, but my true interest was revealed as I became Master Shaine's apprentice among the Scrolls. My passion lies in our history, I'm particularly fond of learning about our past and preserving knowledge. That I strive to achieve as a Pathfinder, and who knows, maybe one day I will be published in the Pathfinder Chronicles?"
"I've talked enough about old little me, I think! Let's hear all about you. What are your hopes for this mission? What do you aspire to achieve in the Society? Tell me everything about you!"
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Callan Domhnal the half-orc is a menacing sight. Standing at 6'1 and 270 lbs. of twisted steel and 'angergy', his outwardly human appearance is sharply offset by his full-on orcish demeanor. He is clad in a masterwork breastplate and is armed with a wicked masterwork great axe, a stout composite short bow and his trusty dagger 'nail.' It was with this implement of death that Callan recorded his first kill at the ripe old age of six.
Callan explains how he was the unwanted byproduct of a battlefield "conquest" of a defeated foe. And when his battle-matron Orc mother realized she was pregnant, she continued raiding the countryside until she birthed him by a campfire in the Great Northern Woods. Upon realizing her offspring more resembled her human conquest than herself, she abandoned him at the first opportunity. He was promptly absconded by a gladiator training school 'lanista' who put him to work tending to the menial chores of his fighter stable until Callan was big enough to begin combat training. The barbarian spent his life traveling from combat pit to combat pit until his 'lanista', and all of his "pit-mates" were defeated and dead. He now seeks his fortune putting his brawn to the test in search of fame and fortune for the Pathfinder Society.
Callan uses his dagger, 'Nail', to clean the grit beneath his fingernails. His deep voice rumbles from his throat, "I have traveled from Cheliax to Taldor as a warrior in the KnifeHand gladiator troop, earning my keep in the pits. We were the best troop on the circuit until Farrell Shatterfoot, our lanista trainer, was murdered by a rival. With no leadership, my pit-brothers began loosing their lives at a record pace, and with no one to promote us, our popularity slipped as did our demand. As the last of my troop alive, I decided to join the society and seek my fortune working for the Grand Lodge. This is not my first mission, but it seems that keeping the Explore. Report. Cooperate. mantra is exciting, if nothing less."
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Amarandlon listens with pursed lips to the Master's instructions, then nods his head curtly. "Very well. It seems a simple mission, at least."
When Janira pulls out the parchment, Amarandlon snorts. "Miss Gavix, I assure you that one of the things I am capable of supplying, as one of the most skillful scribes in the employ of the Society, is parchment." He pauses. "On the other hand, I suppose that this could be considered under the category of an 'expense account,' could it not? I understand that Field Agents sometimes have such problems. Very well. I accept." When she suggests sharing their histories, however, the elf sniffs. "I grew up in Kyonin, the glory of which I doubt your limited imaginations could comprehend. Living outside it is...trying, but I get by."
As the group heads out, Amarandlon shifts reluctantly into lecturer mode. "The territory into which we're headed, the Kortos Mounts, lie in the center of Absalom--the island, obviously, not this city. The area is home to a number of tribes of centaur, harpies, minotaur, vermin like that. We should be...somewhat careful.
"As to the gillmen...for those of you who have not heard of them before, they are also known as the Low Azlanti. They're called such because they're believed to be descended from that reasonably advanced human civilization, which was destroyed (along with its sister nation, Thassilon) in Earthfall, several thousand years ago. They are believed to have survived underwater thanks to the interference of the aboleths. Terrible creatures. Or so it's said," he adds hastily. "It's possible their reputation is overblown. Regardless, the gillmen are now an independent race. To all appearances."
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A short redheaded human runs into the Wounded Wisp. "Callan! Hasshin! Did I miss anything? So sorry. I signed up but the food pantry had run out of flour, so I ran to the granary but there was a shortage because of some attempted food poisoning or something so I travelled to a nearby farm where the farmer's leg had been crushed by a wagon wheel! I gave him some aid and escorted him to a nearby temple. And then I looked at the time."
The party glares at Jiggo as he catches his breath.
"Sorry. My apologies. My name is Jiggo Maelerant." He offers a hearty handshake to each person at the table. "Callan and Hasshin know me already, of course. We cleared the Blackros museum of some wretched monkey business."
"I've had quite a busy life, running odd jobs and trying to piece together my life after a particularly nasty run in with a... well, with a demon. Not fun." Jiggo scratches his hair a bit, nervously. "If it weren't for the guidance of Erastil and the strength of nearby communities, who knows how lost I would still be."
"Hopefully we can see why these gillmen enter that cave every full moon." Jiggo nods. "I'll grab some alchemist fire just in case we get mobbed by spiders or something."
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The halfling woman smiles at you all. "Thank you really for sharing, everyone!"
Janira smiles eagerly at Amarandlon. "Sometimes the simplest of missions become the deadliest! Thank you, though, for the information you provide us about the region. Oh how I'd love to meet centaurs and harpies and, and, minotaurs..."
She looks at the party and eventually says "So, some of you knew each other? How exciting! Don't forget to tell me the story of your last missions by the campfire! That is what true adventure is, isn't it?"
She really seems to enjoy herself in your company.
She concludes by telling that it's time to go.
After making sure that your gear is well-packed and evenly distributed among members of the team, Janira is ready to depart. You first walk through the busy and colorful streets of Absalom before leaving the City at the Center of the World for the Cairnlands along a well-worn path that leads toward Diobel, through the wilderness surrounding the Kortos Mounts. During your journey, Janira points at some large structures protruding from the landscape-what she called "siege towers"-clues of a tormented past for the metropolis. She also teaches you in some ways about the wildlife and plants you encounter.
After a good day's walk, you decide to stop for the night. Your guide uses that opportunity to tell you a story by the fire. "Let us remember the sacrifice of the mighty Azrael, favored of the Paracountess, who gave his life fighting fire and lava elementals and died in a lava stream in the Fortress of Karamoss, so that four agents could survive. His act of benevolence is the epitome of cooperation within the Society." she finishes with a smile on her lips, content to see that most of you paid attention to her story as well as the message behind it.
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"Lava death has to be better than dying with a septic gut wound, your bowels leaking their filth into the body cavity, slowly rotting a man from the inside... cover me in lava any day." the blunt half-orc spouts..."and to befriend and trust one of those horned offspring of fiends sounds like a greater accomplishment, to me. Long live the living."
Anyway, shall we decide on a watch order? I can take first, or last; it matters not to me."
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"and to befriend and trust one of those horned offspring of fiends sounds like a greater accomplishment, to me. Long live the living."
"You think so, huh?" Jiggo scratches his head. "It's always better to befriend rather than behead, I say." He laughs nervously.
"I'll take the last watch, then. It's better for me to start or end watch so I can pray for Erastil's blessings.
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Amarandlon sniffs. "My previous field experiences for the Society are unremarkable enough. I was dispatched on a fact-finding mission to Oppara searching for a vanished archaeologist. The fool had unearthed a powerful necromantic relic, and it brought a cult of Zyphus down on the neighborhood. There was a bit of a tussle with the high priest and a number of zombies, but otherwise rather dull."
As he goes to turn in, the wizard adds over his shoulder, "I shall rise at the same time you do, Jiggo, so that I can prepare my magic for tomorrow."
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"It's always better to befriend rather than behead, I say." He laughs nervously.
Callan smiles at Jiggo. Their previous tasking by the Society brought the unlikely pair together and sparked a friendship that might not have ever happened otherwise. Their life circles would have simply never intersected otherwise. The battle tested barbarian replies, "Sometimes it is OK that one should befriend, I will give you, ...but not always as beheading often has it's own rewards."
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Janira thanks you for sharing what you had and you all go to bed while Callan takes first watch.
The night is a peaceful one. Callan takes the first watch, watching twilight over the Kortos mountains as their companions slowly fade into a dreamless sleep. As Janira takes the second watch, the halfling finds a comfortable position to sleep by curling by the fire. Io is then awoken to take the third watch, gazing at the stars and enjoying a cloudless night. Finally, Amarandlon and Jiggo rises together shortly before the sun, and take some time to watch over their wards before waking them. All of you then take some time to arrange a grand breakfast made of sausages, bacon and eggs, vudrani tea and pears from the Ivy district's orchards of Absalom. You find yourself particularly well-rested, an ideal start for a day of wandering in the wild.
An hour later, you leave the Cairnlands for a deep forest. The trees towering overhead begin to shield most of what remains of the day’s sun and the vegetation beneath grows denser. Janira pauses a moment and pulls out an intricate silver compass emblazoned with the Pathfinder Society sign: the Glyph of the Open Road. "I received this wayfinder when I successfully completed my Confirmation. Should we be successful on our journey, you will get your own as well." She flips open the device and holds it in front of her; the initials J. L. are engraved into the inside of the device’s lid. After studying the compass inside for a moment, she remarks, "We’re on the right path. We need to keep heading northwest past those large rocks up ahead."
As you were discussing the origins of the gillmen, Janira suddenly stops and stands motionless for a second. She has obviously heard something coming. "Do you hear this sound? It's faint but... a swarm!" she shouts as one awful, scuttling mass of scaly bellies scramble forward out of the ground and crawl straight at you!
Janira starts a bardic performance, telling you the story of a great pathfinder that fell. "Remember the sacrifice of Baron Rysalius Starnon that was slain under water by an awakened squid wizard in ruins located in Tian Xia! He boldly protected his party and allowed its last survivor, Tiller Voros Closhfleur to return safe at home."
Initiative - bold may act! Map is here
Janira, Amarandlon, Isaac, Callan
Swarm
Jiggo, Hasshin, Io
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In the early morning light, Amarandlon watches Jiggo pray, looking faintly condescending, as he flips through his spellbook.
Over breakfast, the elf takes merely a cup of tea and some of the pears, sniffing at the eggs before rebuffing them gently. This morning, he walks with his bow strung--an odd look for a scholar--and seems more peaceable and interested in Janira's chatter.
"What are those initials--" he begins to ask, when he's interrupted by the emergence of the swarm.
As the wizard steps backward, cursing, he glares at Jensen. "I too find myself caught with little prepared to combat such a foe--my mother always wanted me to be an evoker, but I chose to ignore her--so I have nothing special prepared. But we must all do what we can!" As Callan throws the alchemist's fire and creates a satisfying fwoosh, he adds, "See, even Callan is able to use his limited intellect to contribute."
With that, he circles to the far corner of the clearing and looses an arrow at the swarm.
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"Per'aps next time ye can use that superior intellect o' yers ta prepare with some o' the most basic gear!" Io yells at the elf.
He moves away from the swarm of snakes, but draws a flask of alchemical acid from his bandolier as he does so. The dwarf's animal companion Kradvid circles above the fray.
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Between all the flasks of fire thrown, the swarm slows down and burns slowly, dying.
"Well done, young ones! I see much promise in you as you acted within the intent of the third duty of the Pathfinder. It is good to be able to witness this, even if some of you lack accuracy or basic combat gear..." says Janira with a happy smile. "Anyway, that will be a good memory once we'll be back in the inn, telling the story of our adventure! You may want to write what happened on your notebook!" she says, showing the little handout she gave you earlier.
Janira then urges you to move further: "Let's depart at once, we need to reach the caves by dusk to try and see if gillmen enter the cave."
As the group continues to travel through the wilderness, you find trails blocked by fallen objects, shortcuts overgrown, and other minor delays that may cost you some time.
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"My intellect is my basic gear, you ham-fisted dwarf!" As the fight winds to a close, the elf scowls and seems about to continue before he's interrupted by Janira.
"Young ones? I'm--never mind," Amarandlon mutters, clearly disgruntled by his inability to wound the snakes. "If we're quite done with this foolery, shall we move forward?"
As the group makes progress, Amarandlon stays near the back, calling occasionally helpful and usually obnoxious advice up toward the front.
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"Phew. That flask was well worth the price, even if the owner was a bit...stubborn." Jiggo scratches his head and wipes the acid residue off of his arm.
"I brought a wand with me to help with our wounds. Tell me if you need it."
"Ah, yes Amarandlon. That tree does have a hornet's nest. We should avoid that. But also avoid that patch of poison ivy. Haha! Reminds me of the sojourns I took when I was young and naive!"
Jiggo is clearly having fun in the wilderness.