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The cloaked mage, who's been keeping to himself until now, steps forward a bit to provide his efforts towards a good relationship. He does not pull up his wide hat, revealing any more of his face but he does unwrap the scarf on the lower half of it, revealing a narrow mouth and pronounced, crooked nose.
Thank you for the opportunity, Praetor. I think you'll find us most competent in heeding the local dangers while at our work...
Ferdrin attempts to expound a bit on local carnivorous and poisonous plants, and how to avoid falling prey to them. He also attempts to fill in some basic answers for Malthus.
However, before we go, might I ask how you learned of Sharrowsmith's actions that have led to your current troubles? Was it he himself who brought you the undeniable evidence, or was it gifted to you by... another.
He subtly glances back over his shoulder at the door that Amersanus so recently stormed out of the room through.
The praetor addresses Malthus first. "The usual culprates. Jaguars, drakes, the occasional pterosaur. Well, there is ONE thing out there I should probably warn you of. The locals have taken to calling it a festrog. It's a disgusting beast, my men suspect it to be undead, that walks upright but runs on all fours. Be on the lookout for those. Nasty little buggers."
He then addresses Ferdrin. "The man came to town asking all sorts of questions about the valley these kobolds call home. When he left, he told the innkeeper that's exactly where he was headed. The tribe's insignia has been found--by MY guards--on every last body--not a task even the Pathfinder Society could accomplish. I do not imagine this is a staged event, and I want you to clear every thought of that from your mind. Our problem was caused by the direct actions of your Venture-Captain, and nothing more."
As the praetor has no more to say, he bids you to exit the room with a gesture before sitting at his desk with a sigh. What I wouldn't give for normal guard duty again.
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Ferdrin frowns at the Praetor's obstinance and wraps his scarf back over the lower half of his face.
Hmm, his mind is made up then. Let us see what evidence can be found against his current views...
He calmly turns away and nods at the rest of his group.
I concur. Daytime would help those of us who can't see clearly in the dark.
The 20-mile journey to the Gold Crown mining operation in the Bandu Hills takes you across mostly level terrain following a well-worn trail into arid and rocky hills. The mining camp is located in an isolated gorge in the shadow of sheer basalt cliffs. At the entrance to the gorge, you each receive a perception check.
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Ferdrin perks up at the observation.
Is it the alleged festrog, already? This was almost planned too well... he rolls his eyes, presuming that the Aspis have something to do with all of the phenomena reported around the present situation.
By now, his wide brimmed hat has fallen to hang at his back, and lessen the effect of the sweltering heat.
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Malthus lags behind everyone else (not necessarily by choice), bullets of sweat cascading down his face despite Orzworth’s wand assisting him.
”Nature...sucks...so much...”
Seeing his companions at the ready, Malthus keels over to catch his breath before drawing his rapier and moving out in front of the marching order.
Hexagonal basalt columns scarred by mining tools line the walls of the gorge. The floor of the gorge is a patchwork of scrub grass and leafless vegetation flattened by frequent traffic. Wooden scaffolding, mining equipment, and trampled tents lie abandoned across the camp. Corpses of laborers rent limb from limb lay amidst the camp's wreckage, and dried blood darkens the rocks. Several banners depicting a golden crown adorn the scaffolding. Overall, two dozen corpses lie scattered across the camp, some seem picked apart by scavenging animals. The tent has collapsed, and the wreckage acts as difficult terrain.
Hunched over one of the bodies is a grey beast, chitinous spikes bursting from most of its joints. The being looks up as you enter, lets out a fowl howl and stands on two feat, towering above even the tallest Pathfinder. As it begins to move, it does so with an unnerving grace. The body it was consuming rises forth with only half its flesh still clinging, and another quarter dangling off.
Initiative order - The bold may act
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- Malthus
- Orzworth
- Zombie
- The Herald
- Gardol
- Jerrid
- Festrog
- Ferdrin
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The horrific sight terrifies Malthus, causing him to almost forget what he was supposed to do.
"Uh....I'll go back to nature, thank you!"
The noble returns to his senses and with incredible grace and finesse, moves toward the quadrupedal beast and strikes.
His eyes focused on his opponent, Malthus positions for a septime.
Malthus pierces the beast's chest as it lets out a terrifying howl.
Orzworth, however, is unable to find a decent location for his kick and finds contact only with the beasts impressive natural armor.
The zombie mindlessly thrashes at Orzworth.
It misses.
Initiative order - The bold may act
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- Malthus
- Orzworth
- Zombie
- The Herald
- Gardol
- Jerrid
- Festrog
- Ferdrin
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Let's find out if that thing is undead or not.
DC14 half
He readies his shield to protect any of the allies adjacent to him.
As Malthus' rapier is pulled from the festrog, its blood squirts from its wound, covering Malthus.
Both the zombie and festrog appear to be damaged by the Herald's channel energy, but the channel doesn't seem as effective as The Herald had hoped.
Jerrid approaches the zombie and punches it square in between the eyes, but finds the creature spongier than expected, and it survives.
Gardol's first arrow manages to connect only with the thick leather hide worn by the zombie, but his second shot meets it in the temple as it topples to the ground. The zombie is dead
The festrog quickly rears its head upward, lashing out with both of its claws on its way up. As it smashes downwards, it extends its jaw an ungodly amount, poised to almost consume Orzworth.
Orzworth manages to dodge the first claw, but in the process moves into the path of the second, taking some damage. As the beast slams down, Orzworth quickly sidesteps, and the beast's jaw meets nothing but dirt as it howls in agony.
Initiative order - Everyone may act.
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- Malthus
- Orzworth
- The Herald
- Gardol
- Jerrid
- Festrog (6 damage)
- Ferdrin
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Ferdrin skates up towards the abandoned tent, as if scurrying towards some urgent business. He stops just behind his burlier teammates.
After he begins to speak arcane words and point boney fingers at the Festrog.
The combination of Ferdrin's magic and Gardols arrows kill the beast.
As the beast drops, clapping begins to emanate from underneath the nearby wrecked tent as three miners crawl out from underneath. They look almost emaciated and on the brink of death, but alive enough to be rescued.
"Quite an impressive display, there!" one of the men says weakly. "I thought for sure we'd all just die hidin' from that thing."
Another one pipes up "Ever since them damn kobolds came by and attacked, this place just ain't been the same! First the slaughtered Jeremy over here, then Billy, then a few others I don't reckon to remember. Worst of all, though, they took Marcus and the others hostage. Probably brought 'em back to their camp in the valley 15 miles over." He gestures towards one of the few ways out of the gorge, and provides directions on how to get there.
The third one, in a very ragged voice simply says, "Please, kind strangers. Do you have any food or water. We haven't eaten in weeks, and our water supply ran out about a day ago!"
They provide you with more intricate directions on how to reach the kobold camp after being given food and water. They each then say they should be fine to make it back to Fort Bandu safely and bid you well as you follow their path.
The path winds around a few hills -- hills that the miners told you contained more of those festrogs. The trail leads directly through a dense forest.
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"...for my birthday two months ago, and now they're ruined! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get blood out of these clothes? Especially monstrous undead blood? Well, that last one I don't know myself, but it's bound to make it harder! And another thing..."
The noble seems to be distracting himself from the trials of the wilderness by talking--more accurately "ranting"--to Ferdrin. Unfortunately, this also distracts him from everything else.
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As they go along Ferdrin, normally overly composed, loses himself to a small degree of irritation briefly as Mathus prattles on.
A moment's quiet! Something is there....
He perks up and stops to look around them at the various shadows in the wilderness.
He points upward at the treetops. There, a jaguar is stalking us. It has receded as I believe it realizes I've spotted it, but I don't think it's gone for good.
Malthus, as he's attempting to finish the third tangent to his original story, stumbles a bit on a tree branch and falls to the ground. He's completely unharmed (except maybe his ego), but as he gets up and brushes off the dust, a low growl begins in the distance, rapidly approaching the party.
Combat begins as the cheetah begins to run directly towards you from 180 feet away. Nobody was expecting combat, so no weapons have been drawn.
Initiative order: The bold may act!
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Gardol
Malthus
Orzworth
Cheetah
Jerrid
Herald
Ferdrin
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Malthus, the last shred of his pride fallen to the ground with him, picks himself up and hobbles forward in an uncharacteristic way, drawing his rapier as he does so.
”I have hiked for days in the intense heat of nature. I have seen things no man of my ilk should see: mosquitoes the size of cats, gigantic lizards of destruction, and unnatural monstrosities. And to top it all off, this outfit is covered in blood and mud beyond mundane repair,”
Malthus stops, reverting back to the lessons of his youth and going en guard.
”And I have had it!”
Finally, his companions see an un-Malthus-like facial expression appear on the nobleman: pure, unadulterated rage.
”Have at thee you stupid feline!”
Unable to focus on his foe, Malthus misses.