Two weeks ago, Osprey showed up at the Grand Lodge in Absalom, his features shadowed by the long cowl of his heavy leather cloak, his unmistakable voice a sullen whisper of both mystery and urgency.
“A grim shadow creeps over Absalom, one that threatens all of us. We know not its source or even its purpose, and need answers to secrets only known to the dead. Your task is one of great importance and urgency. You must retrieve the bones of the ancient mystic Amao from his cairn and bring them to me so our seers can contact his spirit. We need to contact him before these dark forces track his spirit down in the worlds beyond and devour him. Take extra care on this mission, for the Aspis Consortium also dearly desires these bones and their secrets. Amao’s bones rest in a cairn atop a mountain. Go to Cania’s Drop, a small waystation high in the Fog Peaks along the border of Southern Galt. There you will meet with an ex-Pathfinder named Rysam Aklon who will provide you with equipment and directions to Amao’s cairn. You shall hear from me again once you complete your mission, but for now may the gods speed you on your way.”
Now, here in the foothills of a wintery southern Galt, bitter winds blister skin and numbness settles into exposed extremities. While Absalom isn’t known for its sunshine, at least its foggy shores are more favorable than the bone-brittling cold of the Fog Peaks. Before you lies your destination, a mountain waystation run by exiles and recluses.
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"Ooooo, it's getting colder." Roudantaimi muses as the wind whips a lone snowflake on to his nose. "But YAY! That means I can wear my furry hat again! It's waaaay too hot for that in Absalom! Real shame to get to use it so rarely."
And with that speech, the gnome pushes his hand, elbow-deep, into the haversack. He rummages the bag for a moment, and pulls out a large and very fluffy hat made of fur. After putting the hat on, it hides the gnome's orange-hued spiky hair, his eyes, and most of his nose, too. "Ha! Try your best, Miss Winter! A prepared Pathfinder shan't fear your sting, no ma'am!"
"Oh, hey, look, look, look! Hey, you... umm.. sorryIcan'trememberyourname - look! There's the waystation! We're almost there!" the gnome pulls the nearest fellow Pathfinder by the sleeve, pointing vigorously ahead.
"Why can't I remember your name? Have we not been introduced? Or didn't I just pay attention? That happens, too. Quite often actually. Yay! Introductions! I'm Roudantaimi Kaihomieli Ruusutarhanairut - you can call me just Roudantaimi, the other names are just other names, even if they are really good other names, if I may say so. I am a holy paladin of Shelyn, ready to bring roses to the needful, and to smite ugliness with loud bangs and gunpowder!"
Roudantaimi briefly pauses to inhale, and uses the moment to lift his hat a bit, to see who he was actually talking to.
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“Greetings fellows! My name is Jarrett Drendar, and my slightly farrier companion if known as Fetch. We are. . . Not accustomed to these climates, as I have spent most of my youth in the dessert and jungle. I travel light, with but the clothes on my back and my blade. I am pleased to meet you all." Jarrett bows as he finishes.
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Untir is a tanned Garundi man. His long dark hair is tied back from his eyes with a ragged leather strip at his brow. Other than the breastplate he is wearing, a silvery large shield attached to his left arm, and a simple shortspear strapped to his back, he carries little else. He looks distinctively uncomfortable under his thick furs, shivering occasionally, as if quite unaccustomed to such weather.
"It is understandable. I similarly seemed to have forgotten your names as well, for some reason. My name is Untir Jonrot." He speaks in a crisp precise manner, rather uncharacteristic for someone who dresses rather primitively. Untir shivers again and continues. "This the second time I've had to travel to climes rather different from the Osirion deserts, and I still have not acclimatised."
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The wintry wind gusts suddenly, whipping about a long braid of red hair. As the wind dies down again, the braid settles once again on the fur-coated shoulders of the young woman making her way up another nearby path to the waystation. She pauses a moment and regards you all as her path comes alongside yours, then joins your conversation. "If my ears don't deceive me, I believe I heard you all are Pathfinders as well. Then I take it the Osprey has visited you also. Good. I'm Inghinn MacBruthe, though while we're here, I'll stick to Inghinn. Other names can often be good, Master Roudantaimi, but mine...well...let's say it's no longer considered good in Galt."
Inghinn readjusts the heavy furs around her shoulders and continues to trudge along through the snow with her new comrades in arms.
A wisp of smoke adds a splash of color to the sunset as the Pathfinders approach a small cabin. Outside, rows of sleeping sled dogs curl up together in the deep snow. A few people wander amongst them, but before the Pathfinders can notice more than nervous looks a burly man with a shock of wild curly hair and strong, rough features jutting through his scraggly unshorn beard approaches them. With ebon eyes gleaming beneath a low-sloped brow, he greets them. "Ho' there, strangers. You must be the Pathfinders Opsrey sent. I'm Rysam. Follow me." He spits to the side before turning back towards the cabin and continuing.
"What you're looking for can be found in a cairn at the top of the pass. Folks 'round here call it the Dragon. Probably a 20 mile journey to the top from here." He pauses, then continues almost as an afterthought, "Oh yeah. The Dragon goes through lands the beastmen around here think are sacred."
"I've collected a few things you might find useful," he concludes as they reach the cabin. He opens the door to reveal packs containing 12 days of rations, a set of heavy furs, a map of the Dragon, and a heavy pick. "I've got three sleds and dogs to pull them as well," Rysam adds. "I'd suggest y'all spend the night here and set out tomorrow at first light."
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"Yip, I'd say that we don't want to be up there without light! I'll gladly curl up by the fire and defrost for the night first. I think I can handle driving one of these sleds, or what have ye- dogs tend to like me, after all! And I would gladly wear some extra furs to guard against this cold.
Is there anything else we should know about these beast men around here?"
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As if snapping out or a trance, a soft-spoken half orc that's been with you the entire time immediately reaches down to pet each and every dog. They don't really like her.
She's got a spiked shield strapped to her back, an assortment of interesting weapons (notably, adamantine claws and a silver fighting fan), and as she removes her mask, you can see a soft, almost human face. "So, like, we're going to head up these mountains that for some reason are named the Dragon. Is there a dragon? Hey what's this one's name?" She then moves on to the next dog, carefully scratching under its chin like she'd been shown by her previous experience with Druids.
She then speaks to the dog, "Hey there little guy! I'm Bremi. And I'm going to call you Sir Barksalot! Sometimes I get really angry, but don't let that scare you! I'll never kick you, or any of the other dogs. Unless you turn on us, that is!" She then giggles like a giddy schoolgirl before turning back to the party.
"I've got a wand of endure elements if anybody here can cast that. Might make the cold a bit more manageable for those of you who are, shall we say, shivering. I wonder if there's a word for beyond shivering."
She then plops by the fire, carefully allowing each of her weapons (including the shield) defrost.
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Inghinn thinks back to the days of her youth, trying to recall any stories she's heard of the beastmen of the Dragon.
"Thanks for the map, Rysam," Inghinn tells the hulking man as she passes by him and enters the cabin. She kneels down by one of the packs and checks through the rations to see what will be on offer. "Hmm. Waybread. Better than plain cram, but not by much. Still, better to die on a full stomach."
She stands and begins removing some of her heavy gear as she gets ready to bed down for the evening. She starts by carefully propping a massive greatsword nearly her own height in the corner, then moves on to removing her armor piece by piece. The armor gleams with the signs of gear that hasn't seen real use yet, but it's hard to focus on that when you catch sight of the material composing the half-plate--dragon scales.
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"I've got a wand of endure elements if anybody here can cast that. Might make the cold a bit more manageable for those of you who are, shall we say, shivering. I wonder if there's a word for beyond shivering."
"I believe the word is frozen," Untir replies with a gentle smile. Despite his attempts at joviality, he is clearly uncomfortable, and his lips are turning blue. "Your wand is indeed welcomed. My spirits could provide some protection from the elements, but as of now, they are not strong enough to do so for everyone." He gladly takes over custodian of the wand for now.
Turning back to Rysam, Untir nods his thanks. "We appreciate your assistance. Like my fox friend, I would like to know more of beastmen? What manner of creatures are they? In what way are the moutains sacred to them? I would hope to avoid offending them if we can."
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"Aaawwwww, doggies! This is going to be so much fun! Hey Jarret, maybe your wolfie would like to play with them?" Roudantaimi sprints to the dogs, and gives a big hug to the first one. The dog drowsily opens one eye, wondering what the small two-legs is doing, nuzzling at her belly - and then goes back to sleep.
The gnome then brings his attention back to business, and moves to meet Rysam. "Hello, Rysam. Nice to meet you, I'm Roudantaimi." he says, shaking the man's hand. "Twenty miles, you say? Is that a lot, going uphill? I have no idea. How long do you think it'll take? Coming back will be much faster! Hey let's get skis for everyone, and then race back! It'll be great!"
He hadn't even considered about the beastmen, until Jarret and Untir brought it up - But now that they've said it, the gnome is quite interested to hear what Rysam knows. He tries to keep his mouth shut as he waits Rysam's answer.
Rysam spits again. "They're savages - what do you expect?" he replies to Jarrett and Untir. "And I'm sure you lot are well prepared for such precious expeditions." The last word is said with a hint of a sneer.
"Well..." Rysam says, not meeting anyone's eyes suddenly, "I... um... Sorry. I used to be a Pathfinder. Guess it still stings with y'all here. Beastmen have been here longer than we have, but they're not very talkative and we only know that the lands 'round the Dragon are sacred to them, not why."
He clears his throat. "I, uh, guess you could use some of these too. Can't give them to you for free, but I'd sell them for as much as it cost to make them." He pulls out a set of scrolls - two of calm animal and four of charm animal.
"Now, you lot get some sleep. Gonna be climbing high tomorrow - hope you don't mind the thin air." And with that cheerful thought, Rysam takes his leave of the Pathfinders. The night passes uneventfully and the Pathfinders reassemble in the grey light of dawn to set out - once they decide their travel configuration.
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"Let us help pay for thsoe, Untir," Inghinn says as she offers up enough to pay for one of the scrolls.
The following morning, Inghinn takes her time to carefully don her armor once again, asking Roudantaimi for help with a few pieces. "A paladin such as yourself surely knows how important it is to have armor worn properly."
After gearing up and retrieving her sword from the corner, Inghinn steps out into the frigid pre-dawn air and looks over the sleds. "Rysam, are these dogs combat trained as well? If we run afoul of the beastmen and they decide not to let us pass, I'd like to know how well they'll be able to handle themselves." She continues to inspect the dog teams and their sleds.
Three sleds, each with a half-dozen eager dogs, await the Pathfinders. Each one looks like it can hold about 600 lbs, or two medium creatures with gear. Rysam is nowhere to be found, but a quick inspection of the dogs leads Inghinn to believe that they would not be active participants should hostilities be initiated.
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Bremi plops in the back of one of the sleds before looking back eagerly. "Somebody else has to drive. The Druids say I'm bad with animals. Last one tried to kick me. At least Applesauce listens to me when I ride him. Why can't these be riding wolves......" Bremi trails off in unintelligible grumblings.
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Roudantaimi rummages through his bag to get a handful of gold coins. ”Here’s some gold for one more scroll. I don’t know exactly how to read those, but I might get lucky and get the words right.“ he says, storing the scroll into the depths of his haversack.
Come morning, the gnome spends a moment in prayer to Shelyn and memorizing his spells for the coming day. He has just finished, when Inghill calls him to help with donning her armor. ”Oh wow! I never thought there’s so many bits in plate armor! I’ve always just pulled my chain shirt on. But! A new day, and I’m already learning new things! Now, where does this bit go?“
Having sorted themselves out, the Pathfinders depart!
1: Malek, Bremi
2: Jarrett, Roudantaimi
3: Untir, Inghinn
After about an hour of uneventful travel, the air starts to become noticeably thinner.
Bremi feels like she can't get a full breath and is fatigued.
As the foothills begin to fall below them, the Pathfinders enter the Dragon proper. According to the map, this is the Tail - a flat, rocky section of mountain pass. The sleds bounce and sway from the rough terrain, but aside from having to hold on tightly several times, the Pathfinders have little difficulty.
The rocks underfoot thin out as the Pathfinders continue on to the Dragon's Haunches. The incline here is very steep, and the dogs have to work a bit harder to continue uphill.
Up next, the Pathfinders enter the Spine of the Dragon. The rocks from earlier are back with a vengeance, and Malek, Jarrett, and Untir to weave the sleds in and out of large boulders as they continue up the slope.
The Dragon's Heart is a dangerously narrow bridge of solid ice spanning a 15 ft wide ravine. A weathered chain, secured to large boulders at either end of the bridge, hangs suspended about three feet above its slick surface. As the Pathfinders approach, the dogs slow down expectantly.
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As the sled bumps along the trail, Inghinn remains impressed with Untir's driving, as well as that of the other drivers. "You all sure you haven't done this before? This is surprisingly straightforward!"
When the group finally comes to the Heart and the sleds slow again, Inghinn raises up to a kneeling position in the back of the sled and looks at the bridge to check its structural integrity as well as to determine how to cross safely.
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"Yikes! I wonder how safe that bridge is... Maybe we should walk with the dogs, instead of driving the sled."
Roudantaimi walks closer to the bridge to prod the icy structure with his foot.
"I'm a lightweight, I could go across first with a rope for additional security. Umm, does anyone have some rope?" Roudantaimi asks, embarrassed to have forgotten to buy some.
Inghinn determines that the bridge is structurally sound, but slick. A sled would either have to move a high speed and demonstrate masterful handling of the dogs -or - be walked by its passengers to cross safely. A stream burbles at the bottom of the 30 ft ravine, likely causing hypothermia in anyone unfortunate enough to get wet.
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"Yes, I would say we walk across." Untir studies the chain. "Do you think that is sturdy? Could we loop a rope over for each person crossing so that should we slip, we would be dangling from the chain rather than plunging into ... that."
Untir nearly slips as he crosses over to take a better look. "Perhaps I would fly over instead. I apologise though for I am only able to do it for one person."
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Bremi would LOVE to have that fatigued removed. Please. I need my rage.
Bremi holds tight, but is 100% ready to fall to her death. She also suggests everybody casts Endure Elements from her wand so that we don't have to worry too much about the saves (43 charges. Let me know how many we want to use).
"I forgot to have you all cast that coat spell thing before we left off for the evening. Now I'm shivering out of fear and cold. This is no fun. ."
Untir and Inghinn get out of their sled and walk across, holding onto the chain for safety. As they are almost across, a sudden whooping and hollering behind them prompts them to rush the last few steps and dive out of the way as the other two sled come barreling through, the mushers handling the skittish dogs with ease. Untir and Inghinn mount up and catch up with the rest of the party after a few minutes.
Leaving the Heart behind them, the Pathfinders approach the Dragon's Talons. The pass splits into two paths, one higher with a slower incline above a drop to the other path across a series of icy dunes.