The Society’s finest have dealt a great blow to the demonic generals.
The host of Demons seems to have lost coordination as they engage along the battle lines, with the Generals mostly cut down and the siege engines still firing, the horde starts falling apart.
The demons go into retreat or are cut down by the crusaders and Pathfinders who swarm those foolish enough to stay. With the host in retreat, the defenders also start recovering the injured and slain.
The dust settles as surviving Pathfinders find their way back to the Starrise Citadel. Dozens lie wounded, some bearing injuries that may prove fatal. Smoke chokes the air as crusaders continue to douse still-burning buildings whose flames are now mercifully under control.
Venture-Captain Jorsal silently walks up and down the lines of Pathfinders. He rarely speaks, only giving an understanding nod or a comforting smile. The arrival of a squad of battered crusaders from the center of the city breaks the grim moment. At their head rides a stern woman bedecked in shining full plate engraved with intricate gold filigree. Her weapon is coated in what must be demonic ichor, and several of her helmet’s once beautiful blue plumes are charred. This can only be Queen Galfrey, crusader queen of Mendev and leader of Nerosyan.
She brings her entourage to a halt and addresses the assembled Pathfinders. “Words cannot express the gratitude of Mendev. What your Society has done here today goes well beyond what duty required. I have learned that this attack was just one of many in a coordinated assault against all of Mendev, and that our wardstones have failed us, disabled by some demonic treachery. Our city only stands thanks to the efforts of those such as yourselves. I have spoken with Venture- Captain Jorsal, and Mendev shall do whatever it can to aid you in reaching the Sky Citadel of Jormurdun—so long as doing so does not interfere with the new war".
“Now, I must depart for the city of Kenabres to inspect the damage done there. Woefully, it did not have the benefit of the Pathfinder Society’s assistance when it was assaulted, and all reports indicate the city is now completely ruined.” She pauses, worry visible on her face before concluding, “Thank you, all of you for your efforts here today.” Without another word, Queen Galfrey and her entourage turn and leave. The remaining Pathfinder survivors stand united, under the still-brilliant light of the Starrise Spire.
Unable to breach the walls of the city with their primary army, the demons have broken into a full retreat. The crusaders are ready to strike back against the demons. Congratulations Pathfinders on your overwhelming victory!
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With the departure of the remaining demons, Alessio rushes over to Kara and delivers the a healing touch on her shoulder.
Get up, luv. The worst may be over. Hoping to have revived Kara, Alessio turns to the others. Is everyone ok? I don't know about you, but I'll need a strong drink and a nap after all this.
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Floria is tired and numb after the battle. She's never cast that many spells before, and is a bit subdued and distracted. She's still working through things in her mind, but she's very happy that everyone survived, especially Kara, and listens with rapt attention to her tale.
"Do you still want to use the wand? I suppose the balance sheet must surely be in your favour at the end of the day, so to speak?"
"It was horrible, the things the abyss threw at us. Horror and pain and misery, and I can't get the image of that maze out of my head, the painting on Thurl's wall. It was the end of everything, but I've never felt so alive as when we fought it. You all saw that I've a touch of the demonic about me. More than a touch maybe, if my blood could power master Shane's ritual, but I think I'd like to stay here and fight it. What better way to exorcise my demons than by making their heads explode?
"We made a good team I thought, if a little unprepared for what we faced! Would any of you consider staying here, and taking jobs from Venture Captain Laterbury? It's clear they need the help, and it may just be the most important job in Golarion"
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In the days after the siege, Floria doesn't find it hard to fill her time while she waits for more assignments in the vicinity of the world-wound; those skilled at crafting and repairs are in high demand
The Yanmass Avernathus' didn't come to command a trade empire of silk and cotton, nor gain contracts to clothe half the soldiers and workmen in Taldor, without a dedication to the craft. Although of noble birth, she was the Scion of house Avernathus and her mother saw to it that she was thoroughly educated in science and the occult, history and religion, but especially in the craft and repair of clothing.
And so Floria finds herself in the aftermath of a warzone, equipped with a set of magical tools that can become scissors and needle, measure and bodkin.
It's the dull monotonous work that pays the best, salvaging tunics for wearing under platemail, but she prefers to take smaller jobs, helping to repair toys and clothing with sentimental value for families who can't afford to pay as much. It helps to take her mind off the maze, and the voice of the brimorak as it taunted her.
In the aftermath of the battle, everyone is feeling a little exhausted, and thankful... none of you sure if you could have held off the Scourge of Deskari for much longer, if it had not retreated on its own.
It is a miracle Sangkip can even stand, and Kara is little better when she finally appears again, a strange haunted look in her eyes.
You bid adieu to Ballistas Six through Eight, making your way back towards the Starrise Spire. Everywhere you look, you see signs of the hard won battle, buildings still burning, corpses from both sides of the conflict in the streets. There still are not many people in the streets, the news of the victory either still sinking in, or not spread to everyone yet.
As you reach the spire, you meet up with many other Pathfinders returning from the battle, a few with fallen agents in tow. Floria will once again feel the strong sense of aversion to the Spire... the ritual that Kreighton performed earlier with her blood, apparently having a far greater effect than either would have guessed.
When Queen Galfrey's squad rides up, most of the Pathfinders are too tired or worn to do more than look up.
Her gratitude sounds sincere, but the promise to help with the exploration of Jormurdun rings a little hollow in the aftermath of the day... and after she leaves, news quickly spreads through the gathered agents that confirm those concerns.
With the wards down, not just in Nerosyan, but up and down the border to the Worldwound, the threat of the abyssal hoards looms larger than ever. And though you drove those demonic hoards back this day, they did not just disappear. The Societies goal to investigate the ruins of Jormurdun have been put on hold, until the region can be stabilized once more... or at least as stable as the Worldwound ever is.
The next few days of course, see a city trying to restore itself to some sense of the familiar, in the wake of the attack. Slowly the citizens of Nerosyan emerge from their homes, happy that their defenders were able to drive away the demonic hoards... though even that is tempered by the uncertainty and fear of knowing the protective ward stones that kept them safe, no longer function.
The idea that the demons could march right back again, is chilling, and dampens the mood of even the most optimistic resident.
With the planned exploration of Jormurdun on indefinite hold, many of your fellow agents are reassigned within short order. Assignment in the Diamond City is not something most willingly seek, so most are happy to be going back to other parts of Golarion.
You plan to meet up the next day doesn't quite go as planned though, when Sangkip does not show up as planned. Eventually you are able to track the vanaran down, only to find him laying in his bed, feverish, the skin under his fur turning grey, the wounds from the giant bee not healing at all, the edges turning dark with some sort of infection. He is noticeably weakened, sitting up with some effort.
Before long, you learn that many of the city's defenders are coming down with infections of all sorts... the abyssal hoards apparently leaving behind all sorts of infections and diseases in the wounded, despite they themselves having moved on.
So it is that a second battle begins in the city of Nerosyan... this time versus a much smaller foe.
The Cruciform Cathedral, already running dangerously low on healing resources is stretched to the limit, trying to contain the new contagions that seem to be popping up all over, in the aftermath of the siege.
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Sangkip is nearly twice his normal bulk as he lies completely swaddled in blankets against the chills that wrack his tiny frame.
It was a universal truth that scavengers flocked to the site of a war. Thieves and scoundrels, con artists and bludgeoners, Sangkip made it a point to know who they all were. But of course, to fit in and keep an eye on things, it helped to cut a few purses himself...
It takes you a while to get over the shock of seeing Sangkip actually a normal size, not the small monkey you are used to, but a more regularly sized vanaran, nearly the same height as the rest of you. But once you do, it doesn't take long to figure out that he has contracted a virulent strain of disease known as the gray pox. A frightening disease that wastes away the body, while chipping away at the soul. It is said to only be carried by spite demons, a byproduct of the terrible sins that feed such creatures. You can only assume he contracted it during your fight outside the wall during the siege, defending the outpost there.
But if anywhere knows the best ways to treat strange diseases of demonic origin, it is the healers of the Diamond City. Under the watchful eye of Alessio, and with some divine support from Huni, Sangkip recovers fairly quickly. His fever breaks a couple of days later, and by the end of the week, he is back up on his feet, and back to his usual size.
Of course, a lot happens in that week, and the weeks that follows.
Most of the Pathfinder agents who had gathered with the hopes of exploring the lost Sky Citadel of Jormurdun, have gone, reassigned to other cities, in other parts of Golarion. Those that remain seem to be always busy. Investigating the status of the demonic threat, dealing with the aftermath, and, of course, trying to find out what happened to make the ward stones fail in the first place.
But none of those activities seem to include any of you. At first you thought things just busy, and that you were perhaps lost in the shuffle. Then perhaps that they were waiting for Sangkip to recover from his infection... but nothing changed after that either. Eventually, you realize that you have been sidelined, though you are not sure the reasons. You spend the time doing basic grunt work. Sorting and filing paperwork, or mindless manual labor.
Not at all what anyone was expecting in the wake of the events a few weeks before.
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"I'm sorry everyone" Floria says during one of the group's meetings, at a tavern as far away from the spire as the city's layout allows.
"It must have been Master Shane's ritual; I should have known that demon blood this close to the world wound wouldn't win me any friends."
She nurses her drink and broods, occasionally airing her inner monologue. "We were invaluable during the attack!" and later "Shadow demon my arse. If they'd have stepped outside I could have read their minds and that would have been that. It was their own fault".
She's possibly had one too many.
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Alessio has taken some time and reviewed his resources after a particularly frustrating outing defending from the demons. He spent some time in the lab creating a few items that might be of use in the future. When possible, he rejoins the group. At an inn, perhaps. I swear to holy hells, If we see more demons like what we saw, I'll have to review my career decisions. Who wants a drink, I'm buying. Alessio stands at the bar waiting for a barkeep to take an order. He takes out his trusty comb and rakes through his mustache a few times.
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"When you hit that first demon outside the walls Alessio and it shrugged off the flames, I knew we were in for a tough day. What alchemical tricks have you been working on?"
She waves off the offer of more drinks, as she's nursing a half drunk stout that doesn't look like it's agreeing with her.
"For my own part I found an occult practitioner here in the city who has been teaching me a trick to try to push through the demonic magical defences. Of course with no demons to hand to test it on it's possible he's just been bilking me, but we shall see."
"I'm very glad that Sangkip pulled through, and that Kara survived the encounter with that demonic wasp." She shudders involuntarily. "I just hope that if they ever remember we're here and give us another assignment, that it isn't as dangerous!
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Alessio rummages through his bag, Well, I aim to have a more well-rounded suite of alchemical weapons. Acid and blanches for our weapons that can defeat certain resistances. Pellet grenades are a touch expensive for a consumable tool. I've been working on different kinds of bombs, but that might take some time.
It has been a few weeks since the demonic attack on the Diamond City... the city still has not completely recovered, though the people have done what they can to get back to more regular routines.
You've been languishing in obscure drudgery the entire time... so are somewhat relieved, and perhaps a little anxious, when you are finally called in to the Spire again as a group.
Of course, no one is there to greet when you arrive at the assigned meeting room... and you end up waiting nervously for about ten minutes, before Jorsal of Lauterbury himself strides into the room, carrying a number of papers and scrolls under one arm.
He tosses them on the desk at the back of the room, then stares at the chair behind it for a moment, as if trying to decide if he wants to sit down. Eventually he appears to decide to stay standing, and turns a stoic, yet weary eye on the six Pathfinders gathered in the room.
He doesn't say anything for a while, his eyes stopping on each of you in turn, his thoughts his own. Finally, he seems to change his mind about the seat, and carefully sits down behind the desk. He grabs the piles of papers there, and moves all of them aside, except one.
"I didn't want to be in this position." he says finally, with a sigh. "But circumstances are not always in our favor."
"I requested you all be transferred back to Kortos after the attack, but Hestram denied it." He shakes his head slightly, clearly not happy about that.
One finger taps the lone report still sitting in front of him. "This. This is one of the many after-action reports from the attack. The Pathfinders, as a whole, performed admirably... a true testament to what we can do when we work together to fight the demonic threat of the Worldwound."
"But this one... this one troubled me. It was written by an agent named Finch. I believe you know him. A good man, and one of my more trusted agents here in Nerosyan. So his words have a great deal of weight on my ears."
"I realize that there was a great deal of stress. And emotions were high, during the Siege... but what I read here. What transpired at the Bunker... that is not acceptable, and only highlights the worst of who outsiders fear we are. The aftereffects of your actions are still being felt." He sighs, rubbing his brow with one hand. "Thankfully, the overwhelming efforts of the Society as a whole over the past few weeks has tempered some of that backlash."
"But now I find myself at an impasse." He says, deciding to stand again as he gets back to his feet, pacing slowly behind the desk instead.
"I need a team, for a very delicate, and time-sensitive, mission, that will quite likely require tact, and self-control... something you're actions have shown you poorly suited for."
Although he doesn't look directly at Sangkip here, the intimation is painfully obvious. "So now I'm trying to decide if you're worth the risk, or will only make it worse."
He looks at you, not saying anything... your not sure if he's thinking again, or waiting on you to say something.
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Floria looks terrible. She told herself that perhaps it would have faded, perhaps it would be ok this time, but it's worse than ever.
She looks pallid, with a layer of greasy sweat over her face. She feels nauseous, and her head is pounding. It's everything she can do to hold herself together and look attentive. The drinks from the night before haven't helped at all.
She tries to calm herself enough to speak, trying to explain away their actions.
"Venture Captain Jorsal..." Oh not now her hand rises to her mouth as she tries valiantly not to vomit. You're making a great impression Floria
She manages to squeak out a muffled "Sorry" from between her fingers and motions with her hand that somebody else should speak to save her from further embarrassment.
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"Master Lauterbury, surely we did fail in that one particular task that day. I get the impression, though, that you still have some faith or just hope in us. Perhaps that is because reports also tell you how we aided in the defense of the city and how we were directly responsible for saving many lives that day. It is true that we are not perfect, but we are loyal, intelligent, and earnest. We are here to serve the Pathfinders. Give us a mission where we can do that."
Diplomacy
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Kara looks more composed after her long rest. The haunted look in her eyes is gone...mostly...and she seems somehow more confident in her abilities.
She steps forward to speak.
I would urge you to look not just at the events at the Bunker, a chaotic situation where no one knew what to do, but also look at the other work we accomplished. We are a cohesive and effective team, and we are ready to serve. In short, sir, you need us on that wall.
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Eamon looks at Sangkip and then back to Lauterbury. Eamon is surprised not to have an opinion one way or the other on the subject. Normally he'd be all for rank and order and keeping the chaos of command at a minimum. In this respect the agrees with the captain's reservations at assigning Sangkip and by proxy himself this new mission. But, given the over-all outcome of their last few assignments and the fact that Sangkip had proven himself a most capable agent...Eamon thought, perhaps Lauterbury holds some personal grudge against Sangkip or Vanarians in general? A person of his breathed of knowledge should be aware of the Vanar's natural inclination towards mischief ...should he not?
Eamon decides to put in a good word for his fellow companion, If it pleases the captain, I'll keep an eye on our Vanarian friend. His ways may be un-orthodox ; but he's proven himself capable in battle and a loyal Pathfinder.
"Well hey, the real mistake was missing. If I'd hit, there might've been a diplomatic incident, but we'd definitely have had our answer. Still, that was in the middle of a siege. You tell me that tact and self control are what we need this time? No acid tests. Or dagger tests."
The look Jorsal gives Sangkip is withering. "Tact and self control were what we asked for that time as well. If you had hit her, you'd be rotting in a cell right now, still apparently having learned nothing." He says, his tone icy.
"Though it does make my decision easier." He adds with a frown, that last a little ominous.
As Huni speaks up, he stops to listen, though shakes his head slightly. "An inability to follow simple instructions speaks to none of that." He says. "The Society's goals are not for common thugs. We train you all with hopes of proving you better than that."
"Though I suppose not all are cut out for such heights."
As Eamon speaks up, he just gives him a stern look. "That's just it, not everything is a battle. Proving oneself capable of murdering innocent civilians is not what we seek in Pathfinder agents. Certainly it is no glowing reason to assign such a person anything beyond lifting a box, or carrying a bale. Especially not here."
He sighs, sitting back down, one hand lightly rubbing his temple.
"When you look outside." He says, waving the other hand towards the northwest wall. There is no window there, but you assume his comment is more a general statement, than a command to look right now. "What you see out there. That is not just another country. Another plot of land on which people live our lives. Not anymore."
"That is a foul reminder to the corruption of the Abyss. It isn't some ugly thing you can stab and be done with." He says, his voice earnest. "It isn't a dark banner you can point a finger at and direct a strike to. It infiltrates everything. The land, the plants, the animals, the water you drink, the air you breathe... but most of all... the people who get near it."
"We don't drink the waters of the West Sellen because they are poisoned... we don't drink them, because they are tainted by the Worldwound." He shakes his head, clearly recalling some unpleasant memory or other. "To do so, you willingly take that taint into your own bodies. Where it can and will fester, slowly changing the person that drank it, warping them until you would not recognize the person they once were."
"Everything out there is like that. Nerosyan is not the place for people who are already willingly along that road to chaos and corruption. Those who are not shining beacons of hope on the worst of days... they do not last long here. It is my job to spot those at risk and get them away from here... before the abyss gets its hooks in too deeply... before they become worse than what we face already."
"The Crusade is not the place for everyone." He says finally. "To be stationed here, you must be better than most... because if you are not, then we all lose."
Jorsal finally leans back in his chair, clearly at odds, and sighs.
"Fine. If the lives of three of our own were not at stake now, I'd be sending you south immediately after this meeting." He says finally, letting that comment hang in the air for a moment. "But fates beyond my control seem to be conspiring to keep you here. So for now, it is merely a notation in a file. Let this be one last chance to prove your actions can shine as brightly as your words."
He quickly rises from his chair, going over to a map of Mendev and the Worldwound tacked to the wall there. Although the Mendev side of the map is quite detailed, the area to the west has only sketchy detail, much of it clearly having undergone a number of edits over the years.
"A couple of weeks ago, just after the siege, we received an anonymous letter, advising us of the discovery of a long lost Sarkorian site on this side of the river, in rural Mendev." He finally explains as he points to a small dot on the map, northeast of Nerosyan. "Here, in a small village called Dawnton, about three days by horse."
"Of course, we sent a team to investigate, if only due to concern over how the loss of the wardstones might be affecting other areas of the country, and that this find might be related." He pauses for a moment, before continuing. "Unfortunately, two days ago, we received word from Dawnton, that the entire team we sent, has been arrested for murder, and are scheduled to be hanged in a week's time."
"The situation there is developing rapidly, and we have no other teams to send, or time to gather one." He finally concedes. "By the time you get there, there will be little enough time left to try to investigate the alleged crimes, much less find any evidence that might still remain to clear your fellow agents."
He stops suddenly, his face stern once more, as if holding back some strong emotions. "If you do find evidence, but some that implicates our comrades, rather than exonerate them, that is to be revealed as well."
His stoic face almost cracks as he says his next words. "It grieves me to say it, but if they are guilty of this crime, then you are to let them hang."
"It is justice of a sort. We are guests in this country, and subject to all of Mendev's laws." He gives Sangkip a sidelong look here.
"Unfortunately, the accusations and this crime, have tarnished the Pathfinder name in Dawnton." He adds, not mentioning the obvious similarities to your own actions in Nerosyan. "I would recommend you not travel, or investigate openly as members of the Society."
He glances at Eamon. "But let me make this clear, if one of you messes this up through your own willful actions, you will all to be held accountable. Our tenet is one of cooperation, and since you claim to be good Pathfinders, I will only be able to assume any missteps are the part of each one of you, working together."
"That being said, I won't keep you any longer." He finishes, gathering up the papers on the desk once more, as he prepares to leave. "Be careful, and remember... what you do, actually affects others... three of whom are now relying on you."
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Alesio grits his teeth during the reprimand. When a superior officer gives you the 3rd degree, it is not your moment to retort. Not the worst I've gotten, but certainly not praise of any kind. We need redemption.
With the opportunity now to improve their standing with the Society, Alessio speaks up. We will see justice done, Venture Captain. One way or another. You can count on us.
Turning to the rest, If we have any info on Mendev's laws or Dawnton? If not, we should get a bit of research in before we go. Although time is fleeting.
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Eamon salutes the captain and exits the room as soon as he's dismissed. When he glances at Sankip he just shakes his head in disappointment ..not uttering a word in the Vanarian's direction . When he has a chance to get free of the stuffy confines of the VC's office, Eamon takes a large gulp of air and lets it out in a rush with all his pent-up frustration.
Hmm what do I know about Dawnton? Have I even heard that name before?
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Floria listens, gripping the arms of her chair for dear life as the sweat pours off her. When he's finished shaming them she's not at all sure they belong here herself, but she resolves to try her best on the coming mission, possibly because leaving this tower sounds like the most wonderful idea she can think of.
She has many questions, but only one seems important enough to stay in the room any longer. Between gritted teeth she squeaks out "What can you tell us" A few deep breaths "of the Pathfinders who stand accused?"
Eamon realizes he has never heard of Dawnton before. Most of Mendev being relatively new to him, and the others, it is not surprising he is not familiar with some small town in the middle of it.
From what you overheard, it is a small village on the crossroads of one of the major trade highways and a small tributary of the Egelsee river. Barely big enough to rate a dot on a map, it is a farming town with a population that tends to swell during the harvest, and their local festival.
But it is Mendev, and close enough to the Worlwound, that like many small villages in the area, tend to be very distrustful of strangers. Especially towards anyone, or anything, that has obvious demonic roots or influences.
It is that last bit that caught your attention at the time, worried about the same thing in your own head.
Jorsal stops, at Floria's question, eyeing the woman with a frown. "You do not look well." He observes with concern. "If you are not up for this, please let me know now, while there is still time."
"As to the team sent before you, I do not have much." He shakes his head slightly, clearly not pleased that this is the case, as he reaches for one of the parchments in the stack. "This was not long after the Siege... when there were still many Pathfinders adrift in town."
"I only know one of them personally, a halfling named Trip. A clever fellow, not much in a stand up fight, but with a good head on his shoulders and knack with people. The other two were new to Nerosyan, though both took part in the defenses during the attack." He glances back at a page in his hand. "One was a woman named Lucillis, who was well-versed in Sarkorian history and there to research the supposed site. The last, a man named Horvit, not a big talker, but good with a blade, and there to keep the other two safe."
He glances up and frowns. "I'm afraid I can not tell you much more than that."
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Looking no better, Floria manages to reply with "I'll be fine sir, I just need some air. Excuse me." before hastily making her exit from the room and the spire.
On her way she shouts to those still in the room "Ask about the murder!... before finding a spot outside the spire to wait for her companions, breathing a sigh of relief to be away from that place once more.
It shouldn't be too difficult to keep the demonic side at bay while we're in Dawnton I don't think, it's been quiet since I exhausted it, and it really doesn't like that place. I'm sure it will be fine
Jorsal does not know any more than he's already mentioned. He only knows that they have been arrested and charged with a murder, not any of the details. Anything more, you will have to discover for yourselves.
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Maybe if Sangkip'd been up and at 'em the whole time since the Siege, he'd be up on his rumors of Dawton, but as it was... I'll just have to think on my feet. I can do that.
"Well I am filled with profound sorrow and regret for my actions. All that remains to me is to prove that my heart is true. So, you all ready to hit the road? If no shortcuts are allowed we'll need all the time we can get."
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When they meet up outside, Floria will suggest stopping in at a arcane shop to pick up some scrolls that might be helpful in an investigation before they set off. She will pick up (assuming they are available in Nerosyan now that it's more functional):
Scroll of Heightened Awareness = 25GP
Scroll of Speak with Dead = 375GP
Scroll of Comprehend Languages = 25GP
Scroll case: 1GP
for a total of 426GP (bringing her total for this scenario so far to 681GP). She will also hand one of her holy waters to her porter to keep her load down.
On the way she will explain to the others what she's heard about Dawnton. "I overheard some people talking about it, and they said it is a small village on the crossroads of one of the major trade highways and a small tributary of the Egelsee river. A farming town that barely rates a dot on the map, or so they said.
They also said they tend to be mistrustful of strangers and any demonic influence, but don't worry I'll keep my, uh, darker side under control."
Shall we be off then? We don't want the trail to go dry!
Seeing no reason to hang around town any more than necessary, given the time constraints, you head out of the Starrise Spire (much to Floria's relief) and across the street to the stables used by the Society.
The wiry old man who seems to be in charge there, nods when you mention the horses, apparently aware of the fact you might be requisitioning them. Though he makes a point of mentioning that, if you don't return them, you would be responsible to pay for their replacement... and that feeding and hosteling while away from Nerosyan, was on your own copper.
It is midday before you finally ride out of the Diamond City, through the Battle Gate, and along the road heading into Mendev. The outpost where you fought off the spite demons with Captain Kranell and his men. The position is even more heavily manned now, all the soldiers there keeping one nervous eye towards the west. They do not pay you much heed as you ride past, and you recognize none of them.
From there, the trade road follows the eastern bank of the Egelsee river, winding as the river winds. The land you travel over is fairly bleak at first, being so close to the Worldwound, but as you get further away, it starts to change. Eventually you start to see small farms, and villages... though none of them seem particularly prosperous, or rife with crops.
Any people you pass keep their distance, eyeing you warily as you pass... and continuing to watch you until you drop out of sight. It is a little disconcerting, though given their neighbors, you can't blame them for their suspicions. You imagine demons infiltrating from the west is a constant concern... even more so now, that the ward stones have stopped functioning, and in the wake of the attack on Nerosyan.
Early on the third day, you leave the main main trade road, to follow one of the Egelsee's smaller tributaries. It is early evening, when you finally crest a small rise, and see what must be the town of Dawnton below.
A bridge cross the river, into the main part of the town, which appears to consist of a couple dozen run-down buildings with the road splitting them down the middle. A dozen more buildings run along the river's edge to the east, with docks and loading equipment, most likely for the harvest during the season. None of it seems to be in use at the moment, harvest season long past. Far off to the right, nestled in a natural bend in the river, you see what looks like some sort of tent city.
You do not see many people, though smoke rising from chimnies, and lights in windows, show signs of life starting to settle down as the sun sets.
The two largest buildings in town are the first two you see on the far side of the bridge as you approach.
The one on the left appears have taken over three storefronts, and joined them into one larger shop. Above it, is a sign that reads Orug's Mercantile, General Store and Sundries. The central storefront seems to be the main store, whilst the the one to the west has a smaller sign indicating a barber of some sort. The third shopfront is unmarked, though appears to be being used as a residence.
Across from it, on the right side of the bridge, is an inn, remarkably large for a town as small as Dawnton. The sign over it declares it the Heath and Harvest, and judging by the sounds coming from within, is quite busy, most of that activity on the ground floor public area.
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Remember, we're not to advertise the fact that we're Pathfinders unnecessarily. To that end, I suggest we find a tavern for a refreshing meal, and engage the townsfolk on the local news. Perhaps we can find out who to talk to.
Why we bother with such little minded town-folk is trying to one's patience. Queen Galfrey, is competent enough but she has little control of these backwards outpost...The Crusaders should step aside and let Pathfinders clean their own house. Eamon murmurs in disgruntlement. Humph! That being said many if not most in this land worship Our Lady of the Shield, and should be fair minded by-and-large. Eamon pauses to take a second look at Kara; never-the-less, Kara is correct..we should be circumspect in our approach as the situation is volatile at the moment.
"Sounds like a good idea, Kara. If we don't get any leads there, then we should track down the jail they're being held at. The agents themselves might have an interesting tale to tell."
Eamon immediately interjects to counter his rash companion's idea, Perhaps a group of six strangers should not go around asking where the town's jail is first thing when they arrive in town? Eamon says rather obviously sarcastic. Let's get a room first and quietly discuss the best coarse of action to gather the information we need. Eamon wipes a bit of sweat from his brow. Besides, it's been a long ride...I could do with a drink.
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Floria rolls her eyes at Earmon's complaints about townsfolk, but is surprised to find herself agreeing with him on the matter of starting with the inn, securing lodgings and listening to rumours without making too much fuss.
"Once we've established ourselves at the inn we can have a wander around town and see what we can learn. We are simply travellers from Nerosyan who had a hard time in the attack and are looking for some peace and quiet."
Inside the inn if the opportunity presents itself she will ask about the tents.