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"... One of our number has fallen."
Venture-Captain Adril Hestram lets the grave words hang in the air a moment before continuing. It’s difficult to imagine a large man like Adril defeated, but in light of this grim news his shoulders slump; he is a man who has suffered a loss.
", one of our esteemed venture-captains, is dead. His last wishes were simple - he wants his mortal remains to take one last trip along the Silken Way to his home city of , there to rest with his ancestors. He was one of our finest and we aim to honor his request. It is for this reason I’ve called you all together."
Adril points one sausage-thick finger at the map on the table, tracing a line from Absalom to the mouth of the Pashman River, then snaking up the river to the oasis city of
"Here is where you can gather up his remains and join the Silken Caravan, one of the only caravans daring the harsh journey across the desert from Lopul to Katheer. This mission is simple, joyride really, but we insist you give it the attention it deserves. A few weeks in the sun, seeing the sights of the desert. A dream assignment."
Adril has a way of making every assignment sound like a sweet deal, but the last few weeks traveling by boat up the Pashman River and then hiking the short distance to the oasis city have been grueling to the extreme. A poisonous river snake claimed one of your guides; you remember his last gasps well, and how his face bloated to twice its usual size within seconds of the bite. Before you now lies , the great caravan city, erected around the crystal life-giving waters of the , the largest oasis for over one hundred miles. Mud brick houses baking in the sun and great canvas tents crowd the central copse of palm and date trees. Lopul is a caravan-city ruled by the humble servant to the Padishah Emperor of Kelesh. The settlement’s population fluctuates wildly with the comings and goings of trade caravans, but usually has at least a thousand locals and travelers in residence at any one time. Most of the city is comprised of tents and temporary dwellings erected by merchants and caravan masters, with only about a quarter of the city’s structures being permanently built around the Pool of Sihbon itself. Among these permanent structures are a half-dozen caravanserai, the , and two-score domed dwellings constructed of mud brick. One such dwelling is the former residence of Targos Min-Katheer.
... all that remains is to collect his body and join the silken caravan.
What do you wish to do?
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Eltran looks a little scrawny but quite agile. His snow-white fur looks very exotic for a Kitsune - a fact he does not like to speak about.
"Hello everybody! It is an honor to serve alongside you to fulfill my duties as a Pathfinder and a servant of the Dawnflower during this mission."
Eltran bows again in a manner that is common in Tian culture.
"My name is Eltran, Eltran Katsu. My patchwork family has served the Society for generations and I am honored to have been selected to continue their great work to make this world a brighter and safer place." he says with the young voice of a Kitsune and a serious look on face.
He is wearing a casual shirt and light leather armor which clearly is of Tian origin - the armor looks like it has been recently oiled. He is carrying a fine backpack that assists to stabilize the weight.
Resting on top of his chest, an amulet showing the holy symbol of Sarenrae is visible.
Eltran carries a whip at his hip and holds a Manopole in his hand that is attached to his wrist with a very fine chain.
”I am sorry that I was not able to join this special team on your last two missions. I heard you were very successful and even saved all of Absalom through your actions! I am truly grateful for your service to the Society and this wonderful wonder world!“ he says with respect in his voice.
”I am going to replace your colleague Danira of the Hornwood as she was sent on a special mission I heard.“ he states with clear excitement to be in your group now.
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“ ‘Dream assignment’?” Kavendall mutters to himself as the sharply dressed Taldan thinks about heading into the dessert, deeper into the maw of hated Quadira. Subconsciously, the young nobleman strokes the hairs at the base of his well-groomed beard. It had been bad enough back in Absalom when Hestram had told that man that he was being sent on mission that would take him within the lands of the rival of his home empire. Worse still, when he learned that one of the wayward followers of Sarenrae would be joining the mission. But, now, finding himself looking for a corpse from among the filthy tents and half-fallen dwellings of Quadiran peasants… this, for the nobleman, was almost too much to bear.
Viewing his fellow Pathfinders, Kavendall realized that, as the most civilized among them, the responsibility fell upon him to try and ensure that the Venture-Captain receive—at least in death—a certain dignity and honor that had apparently been forsaken him in life.
Approaching the domed dwelling that presumably holds the remains that the party was sent to receive, Kavendall removes his fine hat, exposed his face to the scorching sun. Wiping beads of sweat from his brow with a silken handkerchief, he steps forward, knocks at the portal to the dwelling, and prepares to bow, hat in hand, in deference in respect for the fallen Pathfinder--if not for the man's nation or kin.
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A dark green mass of vines slides under the door as the Venture Captain begins his briefing. Bright lavender flowers stand out all over the creatures body. Calmly taking in the room, it smiles at the group and finds a seat. Suddenly three of the flowers burst into plump orange berries. Plucking one of the berries, she slowly munches away as she listens.
'Desert' she considers with a frown. 'At least it'll be sunny'
"Yes sir! We'll do ours best!" she announces as he finishes and rushes to join the boat.
Once aboard, she offers a vine to each of her companions. "Heya! I'm Zephrine Drouhin Tanglefruit! It's a pleasure to be here. Only a couple berries left, but you're welcome to it if you'd like. Helvega and Cuddles need some 'alone time' or something after yas last mission and asked me to tag in so, HERE I AM!"
Giggling, she pauses a moment to catch her beath. "Unlike the kitty, I'm not from a long line of path finders, but my family grew up around some of 'em paths. I's the first to step out and try seeing how you fleshies live. It's been quite entertaining so far."
"So is this normal ritual for fleshies when they die? We normally sprout from the remains of our ancestors...so we don't do much in the burying stuffs...will more fleshies grow from his burial?"
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Durest stood to the side watching as the man explained everything eyeing the strange gaggle of folks that had gathered, a fox-folk and a talking grapevine. After they got the details of the mission he looked to the others knowing very well the dangers of such a hot environment similar to his home of the Magwani jungles. "Damn shame we'll make sure ta' get 'im tah 'is final resting place, though if 'e had any enemies, which i'm sure pathfinders make plenty along their way in life. It would be best ta know if any may want t' come desecrate 'is body. Also if'n we're travelin th' swealterin deserts, I recommend everyone pick up some breezy cloths n' an' extra flask."
Other than those comments he took the time to buy clothing himself which made him look even bigger than he actually did due to how it hung on him.
"Seems we shoul'a bought some anti-toxins fer th' trip... poor fella, wish we could made i' less painful tah go without riskin ourselves.."
He removed his black hat as well showing off his unusually well maintained, oily black hair, which completely disagree'd with the rest of his look aside from the beard.
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A poisonous river snake claimed one of your guides; you remember his last gasps well, and how his face bloated to twice its usual size within seconds of the bite. Before you now lies Lopul, the great caravan city, erected around the crystal life-giving waters of the Pool of Sihbon, the largest oasis for over one hundred miles.
Eltran Is truly sad because of life lost where he could do nothing to help!
”These are the moments where I feel helpless and sad. A family is now without a father, parents are now without a son! May the afterlife bring peace to this man and may his family be blessed to prosper without his guidance and his support!“ Eltran says during the man’s burial.
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Through speaking with one of the local merchants, you discover that Targos Min-Katheer’s dwelling is at the end of a humble, sandy street on the edge of the caravan town.
You follow the merchant’s directions, and you come to a small domed mud-brick dwelling. The scent of the nearby oasis still reaches you, and a hive of bees, attracted by the nearby water, hangs from a date palm next to the house. The wails of mourners and cries of women and children reach your ears, and you can see a small crowd gathered outside the house’s single door, its members crying and tearing their garments. Whether professionally-hired mourners or sorrow-filled residents outpouring legitimate grief for the loss of a local hero is unclear, but the emotion seems genuine enough.
Approaching the domed dwelling that presumably holds the remains that the party was sent to receive, Kavendall removes his fine hat, exposed his face to the scorching sun. Wiping beads of sweat from his brow with a silken handkerchief, he steps forward, knocks at the portal to the dwelling, and prepares to bow, hat in hand, in deference in respect for the fallen Pathfinder--if not for the man's nation or kin.
You make your way through the crowd that has assembled, and Kavendall steps forth to knock on the front door. It brings an answer in the form of a man in simple sackcloth with ashes poured over his freshly shaved head. His face is sickly pale under the coating of ashes, and part of one ear is missing. With his hands wrapped in dirty bandages, you can say with near-certainty that this man is a leper.
Without a word, he respectfully moves out of your way to avoid any accidental contact. The front room of the house holds more leper mourners, and a curtained doorway blocks what you assume to be the house’s bedroom.
In a short moment after entering and finding space among the mourners, a man wearing priestly robes and a black jackal death mask emerges from behind the curtain.
His voice muffled by the mask, the man introduces himself. "Greetings, travellers. I am Ben-Garri. I assume you are here for the remains of the venerable Min-Katheer, no?" He bows his head and makes a small gesture at the mention of the fallen Pathfinder's name. "Your honored venture-captain's body is receiving its proper funeral preparations... I'm afraid that you will need to return at dusk to claim the body after the... proper ceremonies."
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The masked man "Oh, I wish I could see to your request, but the body is no state to be viewed at the moment. If you wish to... say a prayer, by all means, please do so." he gestures lightly with his hands, and as he does so, you notice ashen patches on his hands, along with a couple missing fingers.
Self consciously, he retreats his hands into the sleeves of his robe and clasps them in front of his waist. "As for the Venture-Captain? I... believe he was a faithful Sarenite, so I'm sure your thoughts will be most treasured." the priest seems flustered by your line of questioning.
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Flustered by the line of questioning, any pretense of Ben-Garri being amenable and calm melts away.
"Blasted tomb-robbers! Glorified mercenary pall-bearers! A thousand curses on you all, may the Mother of Beasts strike you down!" he looks over his shoulder at the curtain covering the bedroom.
"Come forth, brothers and sisters! Reveal yourselves and repel these worms!"
BATTLEMAP!
1A: Durest, Eltran, Vitrack
1B: Enemy: Leper Cultists (x4) (50% concealment west of curtain)
1C: Kavendell, Zephirine
1D: Enemy: Ben-Garri the Scarred (shaken 1)
1E: NPC: Civilians
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As commanded, four fellow Lamashtan cultists rush out from behind the bedroom curtain, bandaged like the rest of the mourners that surround you. It is a confusing melee that ensues, as fists and hammerblows rain onto you from these deranged men and women.
Cultist A > Durest
- miss
Cultist B > Eltran
- miss
Cultist C > Kavendell
- miss
Cultist D > Zephirine
- miss
BATTLEMAP!
1A: Durest, Eltran
1B: Enemy: Leper Cultists (x4)
1C: Kavendell, Zephirine
1D: Enemy: Ben-Garri the Scarred (shaken 1)
1E: NPC: Civilians
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"You guys have a strange tradition for funerals." remarks the leshy. "A bit rougher than what I'm used to."
Drawing back a root, she brings it forward with force and kicks the nearest foe in the knee. "Now, can we stop this nonsense? Seriously...we should bury this man so his young can sprout forth from his corpse!" Quickly drawing her bow, she looks upon their opponents sternly.
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Zephirine smashes the kneecap of one of the cultists, who cries out in pain - and as Kavendell is able to draw his longsword from his scabbard, he sidesteps the cultist's attack, and cuts him down with a single effortless cut of his blade!
Ben-Garri draws a curved dagger, then tilts his head slightly whilst looking at Kavendell. "Fall. Fall down to the ground, won't you, boy?" he says through a snakelipped smile.
However, his smile quickly fades once he sees the bard resist his compulsion enchantment. "You pig-headed fop! Do what you're told!"
In the confusion, the crowd of mourners in and outside of Targos' abode scatter and flee from the violence.
Round 2!
Battlemap!
2A: Durest, Eltran
2B: Enemy: Leper Cultists x4 (D: -4)
2C: Kavendell, Zephirine
2D: Enemy: Ben-Garri the Scarred (-3)
2E: NPC: Civilians
are back up!
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In a brilliant display of teamwork, Eltran trips Ben-Garri with his whip, and Durest follows up with a chop of his axe, which hits the priest with a sickening sound.
The cultist nearest to Ben-Garri lashes out at Durest at the sight of the dwarf striking his master. "A curse upon you, rock-eater!"
Cultist A > Durest
The cultist manages to strike Durest with his bandaged hands, dealing 3 damage to the gunslinging dwarf.
Meanwhile, to the south side of the house, the remaining cultists continue their harassment of Kavendell and Zephirine.
Cultist C > Kavendell
- miss
Cultist D > Zephirine
- miss
Their attempted strikes against the Pathfinders ends up being nothing more than a nuisance, however. Now it is time for them to repay the favour!
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Ben-Garri brings himself back to his feet, which Durest uses to his advantage and attempts to sneak another axe blow in.
Durest, Attack of Opportunity > Ben-Garri
The axe is wide of it's mark, and the Lamasthan priest counters with a slash of his kukri...
Ben-Garri > Durest
... but the dwawf avoids the attack without issue.
Among the ringing of steel and pounding of fists, you can hear someone in the crowd outside call for the town guard.
Round 3!
Battlemap!
3A: Durest, Eltran
3B: Enemy: Leper Cultists x4 (D: -4)
3C: Kavendell, Zephirine
3D: Enemy: Ben-Garri the Scarred (-3)
3E: NPC: Civilians
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The cultists pound away on their respective targets. One chases after Zephirine.
A > Durest
- miss
C > Kavendell
- hit
- fail
D > Zephirine
- miss
The one facing Kavendell manages to slip a fist past the bard's defenses, dealing 1 whole point of damage.
3A: Durest (-3), Eltran
3B: Enemy: Leper Cultists x3 (C -4, D -3)
3C: Kavendell, Zephirine
3D: Enemy: Ben-Garri the Scarred (-14, prone)
3E: NPC: Civilians
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As the cultist lands a weak punch to the jaw of Kavendell, the bard simply grabs his arm, gives it a tug, and as the weak leper stumbles to the side, Kavendell finishes him off with quick slash of his blade.
The diseased body of the cultist falls to the floor, and a pool of blood begins to fill the cracks in the sandstone floor.
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Two thorns pierce the cultist near Zephirine, and he slumps against the wall, never to rise.
Ben-Garri, in an attempt to make some space, scoots on his back under the curtain in quite a precarious and defenseless manner. Seizing the opportunity, Durest chops with his axe once more.
Durest, Attack of Opportunity > Ben-Garri
The Lamashtan cleric berates his lone follower in a shrill voice. "You fool! Kill them all, don't just stand there, d~~~..." but Ben-Garri's voice is cut short, as Durest's axe finishes the job. The cult leader is no more.
Round 4!
4A: Durest (-3), Eltran
4B: Enemy: Leper Cultist
4C: Kavendell, Zephirine
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Zephirine's second thorn finds it's target, and the cultist slumps over.
With the final cultist no longer a threat, joining the others on the dusty floor of Targos’ former abode, the funerary mourners begin to crowd around the doorway. After assuring the crowd of your honourous intent in defending the body of Targos Min-Katheer, a few of the leperous in the crowd assist you in moving the bodies of the crowd to prevent the risk of contracting the pitiful disease from the Lamashtans.
As the mourners resume paying their respects, a patrol of mameluk guards approach the domicile, led by what looks to be a concerned citizen. They are heavily armoured, wearing red sashes that let everyone know their allegiance to the sheik and thus defenders of the sheik’s peace. They are rough, hard-looking men-at-arms, and they intend to keep the peace with either their tongue and wits, or by polearm and flatbow if that fails.
”By decree of Sheik Al-Hadari, and his master before him, the padishah Emperor of Kelesh, stay your sword-arms, and keep your hands in plain sight.” The guard in front removes his mail-veiled helm, and adopts a posture of authority.
”I have witnesses who say you were defending yourselves, but the sheik will demand an explanation as to why blood was shed in his humble city of trade -” he looks the four of you over. ”- what exactly is it that I will be telling him by day’s end?”