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Rather than a Pathfinder Lodge, grand or otherwise, you have been summoned to the tiny Frostchild Inn in Turvik. It doesn't look like much, but the little place weathers the constant freeze this close to the Crown of the World. You now stand with several others in Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen's room, larger than most others so as to serve as an office. He, and at least one other special guest, should be making an appearance shortly.
Normally home is more temperate. Then again, ma and pa said she needed to get out more, see the world. Have more fun.
Miladistra enters the inn playing a jaunty tune on her piccolo. The cold air she breathes counteracts the many animal furs she wears on top.
"Howdy ya'll. The name is Miladistra." She sits on the floor and begins organizing some of the herbs and berries she collected along the way. "I hope you were summoned here, there are some pretty snow clouds out there I'd rather watch, otherwise."
The Half-Orc walks in. Yes, I know you haven't seen a Sorcerer so diverse.
Zordox de la Flamme, a tall blonde haired elf with purple eyes sits at a table with a goblet of Sangria and an open spellbook in front of him. His lips are moving as he memorizes yet another spell that will ward off the miserably cold temperatures. You notice he is bundled up against the cold as he clearly detests the frigid climate. Even so, his cold weather coat matches his brilliant red ermine trimmed robe.
A short goblin, bundled in furs, yet still suffering from the cold walks among the legs of the taller Pathfinders. Once by the fireside, Fumbus' gleefully warms himself, first by holding his hands out toward the flames, then by darting his hands quickly inside and out of them.
"Watch it, little guy!" Miladistra watches the goblin nearly burn his hands off. "You don't want to burn your hands. Or burn the lodge down."
"Watch it, little guy!" Miladistra watches the goblin nearly burn his hands off. "You don't want to burn your hands. Or burn the lodge down."
"Really? Says who?" Fumbus replies with a tone resembling more a genuine question than a snappy or sarcastic retort.
Miladistra grunts as Fumbus poses an interesting question.
"It- Let me put it this way: It's pretty cold out there. So the longer these walls stay up the more the heat stays inside. Not that I wouldn't mind the cold, but usually I wait until winter."
Miladistra catches herself rambling and pauses. "Eh, forget it. I'll dump a ton of water on you if the flames shoot out."
A large Varisian man leans against one wall, his dark, shaggy hair just beginning to turn gray at the temples. An enormous greatsword slung across his back, and the scars on his breastplate where dents have been hammered out over the years match the scars lining his face. He wears a tattered gray cloak lined with wolf fur to ward off the chill, but the rest of his clothing visible over his armor is black. A silver pendant in the shape of a spiral hangs from a silver chain around his neck.
A small bear in leather barding snores loudly at the Varisian's feet.
He nods at Fumbus and Zordox. "Ve haf vorked together before, I think. It was some time ago, maybe in Nex?" He introduces himself to Miladistra and Harry. "I am Arkandru, a warrior priest of the Lady of Graves. This -" he nudges the bear with his boot "- is my friend, Trofimir."
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Finally, the half-orc Bjersig Torrsen enters the private room. “Thank you for coming; I know we’re quite a ways further north than most Pathfinders ever travel.” The husky Mahki curls up protectively at the half-orc’s feet, his ears up as though wary despite his repose.
“The Pathfinder Society has recently allied with a tribe of goblins, and we’re hoping to deploy them for scouting missions or, well, anywhere they might be useful. I dispatched a team of them to follow up on some rumors about an ancient giant structure off of the Path of Aganhei, which leads north over the polar ice cap. This path is millennia old, and it connects us to the distant nations of Tian Xia. Only three of the nine goblins returned, including a clever scout named Ogthup who swiped a chunk of stone from the structure’s entryway.” Bjersig produces a tile of broken stone about one foot square. “The goblins took three or four stone tiles like this, though they lost all but one on the way back.
"The script is Jotun, the language of giants, and it reads ‘By my honor, I will wake no sleeper here or suffer the First Jarl’s curse. By the North Star, and her sign of...’ and here it breaks off. We know that the First Jarl is a reference to Thremyr, cruel god of the frost giants. Curiously, the North Star is a Tian name for Desna, benevolent goddess of dreams and travel. Although the script is Jotun, the language is more poetic, and seems Tien in structure. The juxtaposition is intriguing, and I’m sending a capable group—that is, you—to acquire more information. The structure is off the Path of Aganhei in Urjuk, a land claimed by frost giants and taiga giants. It’s a trip of many days into an inhospitably cold environment. But with the right equipment, you should be fine—the summer solstice has just passed, so it’s warmer and brighter than just about any other time of the year. My hope is you’ll reach the site, neutralize any dangers, and provide a complete survey.”
“I asked Ogthup to draw a map of how to find the structure, and after a great deal of prompting, she produced this.” Bjersig slides forward a crudely drawn sketch with several symbols and goblin faces scrawled on it. “If this is as incomprehensible to you as it is to me, you can ask Ogthup about it. She has a room here in this inn. Unless you have further questions for me, I’ll ask you to meet briefly with her before you go.”
"Oh, hi Arkandru. And hello, Trofimir. You should see my uncle- he has a huge wolf following his every move. He's real fluffy, too!"
Miladistra identifies the bear's breed, age and gender. Arkandru is taking good care, so she doesn't complain.
Miladistra has many questions to ask about the bear but then duty calls. "So, head out, explore some ruins, and travel back here? It will be nice to be outside. The cold air will do wonders."
Miladistra clutches onto her mistletoe and tries to understand weather patterns. Will there be a cold snap? Snow storm? How much climbing does she anticipate?
Zordox greets Fumbus and Arkandru warmly. "Ah yes, I remember both of zou fondly. Eet was a wonderful adventure we had in Nex. Remember getting zat body off ze big construct walking around ze zity? I hope zou are ready for a chilly time on zis mission. Ze air ees as frigid as Iomedae's worzeeppers."
He turns and speaks to Bjersig.
"Bjersig, when zou zay equeepment, exactly what equeepment are zou referring to? We vill have to buy everything here as I do not zink zere will be any stores zelling equeepment on ze route. Also, what can zou tell us of ze giants and any creatures living in ze area?"
Arkandru rubs the back of his head in remembered pain. "Vhat I recall of recowering the body is mostly the blunt force trauma. But yes, it vas qvite an adwenture."
To Miladistra, he says, "Yes, Trofimir is a good bear. A little small for his age, but ve still think he vill hit his growth soon enough."
The big man nods at Zordox's questions about purchasing equipment. "Yes, and also perhaps we can find dogsleds for hire? Or at least something that can manage in this veather, and carry most of our gear?"
"Too many books." is all Fumbus says in regards to his recollection of the prior adventure with his allies.
"For heat, we'll use fire. Bring lots of things to burn, we should." the goblin suggests.
"Let's go speak with Ogthup."
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Miladistra, quite knowledgeable on the subject, has already guessed the weather's meaning from her short time here. So soon after the solstice, it's about as warm as such a frigid place can get. However, the mountains have looked especially chilly of late, and are showing light snowfalls even now.
Bjersig backpedals a bit on his comment about buying gear. "Well, I forgot to mention, I have the basics for you here. Tents, blankets, cold-weather clothes, plus food and water enough to reach the structure and back. Those should keep you all right in this cold." He takes some time to fish several bags from his desk and pull copious sets of clothing from them, talking all the while. "Considering the presence of giants along the way, and the strange nature of your destination, it could get much colder by supernatural means. For that, you'll have to rely on your own magic supplies or purchase some from the inn's little shop.
"I doubt any musher would send their dogs up that way with a group knowingly heading towards giant lands. Much less themselves or a supervisor. But worry not, these bags should hold the bulk of your gear."
In response to Zordox's question on giant danger, the Venture-Captain pulls out an actual map and gives it a quick glance. "Well, the taiga giants of Urjuk are fiercely territorial. They generally don’t bother anyone traveling on the Path of Aganhei. But, as you’ll be leaving the path to reach the structure—a structure carved with Jotun words, in fact—your chance of encountering violent ones is probably high."
"Well, it will be relatively warm up there. You know, compared to winter." Miladistra giggles. "These tents and blankets should be enough for that."
"Giant society and activity?" Miladistra perks up. "That's pretty interesting. Let me think about this for a second."
Harry will see what he knows about Desna and now Thremyr
Fumbus wracks his goblin brain.
Zordox considers what he knows of Giant Society.
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Miladistra and Zordox recall some rumors they've heard, likely recent ones as matters of the far north are rarely discussed elsewhere. According to those around here, the giants of Urjuk are organized in loose tribes commanded by strong chieftains. Only great events, such as domination by powerful supernatural creatures or the rise of the cruel Thremyr himself, typically convinces the frost giant clans to work together. The frost giant clans of Urjuk are more active as of late and have been raiding the Lands of the Linnorm Kings to acquire plunder.
Talking of Thremyr, Harry thinks the frost giant god tends to awaken when his home grows too warm, and can be lulled back into slumber with cold magic. Arkrandu, however, is quick to point out that this is false. The big man remembers a bit about the two deities, noting that the strange pair are rarely, if ever, both mentioned on the same subject.
Followers of the North Star are usually skilled orators who practice ancient rituals for protection or peace. Often, these rituals are tied to cosmological events, like the position of the stars. Some giants believe they can control when their mighty progenitor Thremyr wakes or sleeps. As Thremyr is just as cruel to the frost giants as any others when he is awake, some frost giants actively pursue rituals of appeasement to keep him slumbering.
You hear a small commotion outside as sled dogs bark and growl at some unseen threat. Just when you get up to check on them, a pot-bellied goblin sneaks his way in, his arms full of frozen fish.
"Can you believe this?? Someone left perfectly good fish out there in these metal dishes!"
He pops a couple in his mouth before clambering up onto a human-sized chair.
"Fumbus! Arkandru! Zordox! Want some fish??" he points outside. "Plenty more where this came from!"
Trofimir raises his head at Thorax's noisy entrance. He practically levitates to his feet when he catches a whiff of the fish, and pads over to the goblin, snuffling and growling questioningly.
"Bear! No see long time. I have gift just special for you!"
Thorax wiggles a well-crafted backpack off his shoulders and rummages through it, but you can *smell* the item he's grabbing before you see it. He eventually pulls out a bloodstained lump of sack canvas, waves it in the air to get the wrinkles out, and then rolls it up.
"Chew toy!"
He presents one end of the rolled up sack for Trofimir to inspect.
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"Thorax! Glad to see you've made it." Bjersig doesn't look quite as happy as his words would suggest. He and Mahki smell the chew toy at the same time, and decides to have the goblin in his office as little as possible. It wouldn't be long before the husky is influenced by whatever meat is thrown on the floor or he has to pay the inn for a cleanup crew.
"All right, I'd say you know the specifics of your mission. Please fill good Thorax in, on the way to see Ogthup. Bye!" He hurriedly pushes Pathfinders from the room, signalling for the others to follow. The goblin scout's room isn't far away, and is much smaller but even more packed.
Several Pathfinder assistants are walking around the room, carrying heavy cases and furniture. A thin and small goblin sits at a table bearing several maps. She looks friendly enough, though one finger is jammed far up her nose as she watches the papers quizzically, as if wondering whether to be afraid of their words. She shifts her attention to the new arrivals, not even bothering to retrieve the finger. "Hey there! Big Green said you'd be by to ask about my picture. So, whaddaya need?"
"Hey there! Big Green said you'd be by to ask about my picture. So, whaddaya need?"
"We have bad news for you, I'm afraid." Fumbus says somewhat mournfully. "The rock you brought back had..." The goblin chokes up a bit before continuing, "... words written on it."
Thorax nods solemnly.
"You probly don't have much time. You should tell us everything you saw! Except the words."
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Miladistra lets the goblins mingle. She doesn't understand their obsession with fire, but it keeps them busy.
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Ogthup sighs, as if she had seen the possibility but wasn't fully prepared. "I was afraid'a that. If the tall ones want their souls forfeit for whatever edge the words give, no skin off my nose - they've probably read before anyway."
"I got time, though, got time. But you look like a fine scout yourself," she says, sizing Thorax up. "So how's my cart-o...carta...map looking? I'll fill you big Pathfinder friends in on what he misses."
Zordox is glad to see Thorax again. He shares their fascination for fire although he expresses his enjoyment through his arcane arts.
Trained
"Good use of color. Background is classic contrast. These not snow Goblins?"
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Without taking too much time on it, Thorax divines more from the map its creator likely ever did. The goblin faces tell time, obviously. Each time such scouts eat a meal, they draw such a face. So the team evidently ate breakfast around the statue and falcon, lunch around what looks like a windy pit, then (based on Thorax's keen knowledge of all things goblin) two more lunches at the mysterious doors. He doesn't know what the hole or the statue are, but the set of doors probably signify the structure the team is bound for. The arch is likely the Eye of Thremyr, a landmark not too far off the Path of Aganhei.
Should Thorax mention this aloud, Ogthup claps violently. "Very nice! A good scout you'd make - probly are one already. But we got some openings on my team, maybe you'd wanna join! But yeah, that's the Sleeping House, the Pushing Hole, and the Man with a Bird," she says, pointing out the three landmarks left to right. "What do you wanna know there? We aren't sure of much, still, I can say what we saw. It all helps, right?"
"You had 'openings' on your team?" Fumbus inquires. "What was it that opened the others up? And what did their insides look like when it was done?"
"What you have for lunch?"
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"Wasn't looking too hard at their insides. Some of the times we were running, but also we already had plenty of medicine. When we wanted to get closer to the Man with a Bird, a big elephant came out of nowhere and squashed Gibble." Ogthup starts counting the dead on her fingers, rather nonchalant. "We went to the Sleeping House and killed a sleeping giant, but then three more charged us. They threw rocks and some goblins got smashed, but the rest ran.
"Then we ran and hid in the Pushing Hole. But a big wind came and flung us all out! Murgug dropped all her tablets there, and she and another one - her sister, I think - landed bad and died. So we got back here double quick." Her counting stops at six and her finger returns to the appropriate nostril. "What was for lunch? Venture-Captain packed us big loads of grey fish. Was okay. Much better with goblin spices on."
"You probly blown out hole cuz you're small" Thorax deduces. "We got Longshanks. They good at falling down holes. Plus, me master cave climber! Not been blown out of cave, yet!"
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"Now just a moment, Thorax, that was only von time, and I ... " Arkandru pauses, shakes his head, and lets the matter drop.
The big Varisian changes the subject. "Vas the sleeping giant really asleep? Or vas he perhaps undead? Did you encounter any monstrous escapees from the Boneyard impersonating the living?"
"We get 'em this time! And squash elf ant, too."
"So, we're fighting giants, it seems." Miladistra shrugs. "Looks like we need to find those tablets while giants try to kill us."
She raises an eyebrow. "What kind of wind was it? Cold? Hot? Was it wide or narrow and directed? Maybe it was an artificial wind."
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"The wind? It was pretty much the same as the rest. Cold, but not too much. It filled the whole hole upward and then a bit outside!"
Meanwhile, Zordox's mulling leads him to remember a landmark not far from the Eye of Thremyr. Rather than a man with a bird, the goblins likely saw an inuksuk - a hundred-foot statue made of cleverly-stacked boulders - from far away. One around that area, the elf recalls, was dedicated to an ancient giant chieftain known as Emkarak the Conqueror. And if the bird looked as small as the person to Ogthup, it must have been massive!
"How long it takes to walk there?"
"How long it takes to walk there?"
Fumbus glances over at Thorax and asks, "Why? How long you got?"
Thorax holds up a vial of blue liquid. Judging by the condensation on the outside, the contents must be cold.
"Magic liquids only last so long."
Thorax looks at the miniscule vial, slumps his shoulders, and then places it back in his backpack.
"A month? We are going to spend an entire month walking to zis place? I zink not, monsieur! We zhall zeek out zomeone to majik our travel via Teleportation or gather up a pile of ze scrolls for Phantom Steed! Walk! Bah!"
Zordox gives an awesome Gallic shrug as if to indicate he isn't going to spend a month plodding along in the arctic cold.
"Ooh, a walk through the snowy woods! Sounds like fun!" Miladistra grins and begins preparations.
"A month? We are going to spend an entire month walking to zis place? I zink not, monsieur! We zhall zeek out zomeone to majik our travel via Teleportation or gather up a pile of ze scrolls for Phantom Steed! Walk! Bah!"
Zordox gives an awesome Gallic shrug as if to indicate he isn't going to spend a month plodding along in the arctic cold.