Please dot in here. :)
It's a long way from Absalom to Lastwall. Luckily for you, a high-level agent on her way to Vigil agreed to teleport you to your rendezvous with Venture-Captain Shevar Besnik at the Dryad’s Blessing Inn, a comfortable spot for travelers in Three Pines Ford, a quiet town along the banks of the Tourandel River in the south of the country.
So, without much ado you find yourselves in the common room at the inn, waiting on the arrival of the Venture Captain.
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Grel is a stout, dusty dwarf. Hands crusty with bits of clay and earth as if his body secretes it. Grel has a shiny warhammer slung to his belt and a wooden shield affixed to the back of his paneled horn armor.
Grel, Veldgott, nice to meet ye. An ale is in order after so much travel. I've recently returned from space.
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After a dwarf must come... an elf of course. Styfis a long-limbed elf with green eyes, as all his clothes. Even his mithral breastplate is so colored. The exception is perhaps is composite longbow and the quiver, a special one indeed.
My name's Styfis.
After hearing about the last travel from Grel, he nods.
Oh, from space? I hope the travel wasn't so long. During this time we slaughtered demons near the Worldwound.
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Another stout dwarf steps up to the group, clad in fine full plate covered in dwarven runes, and with a hammer strapped to his back with such a long haft that it protrudes above his head.
He looks awkward, not quite sure where to look as he fidgets with his pipe and strokes his beard. After a little bit too much time has passed and others are about to speak, he bursts out with his slightly too-loud introduction, delivered to Grel and Styfis's boots.
"Tholgrin Stonebeard, pleased to meet you. Lore keeper of Highhelm, guard of the under tunnels, psychic handyman, as you can plainly see." he points to inscrutable runes carved into his armour with the stem of his pipe.
Next he unstraps the dwarven longhammer from his back, and cradles it lovingly.
"And this is Beryl. Freshly enchanted to strike true against the enemies of Torag. It's an honour to meet you both. He meets your eyes for the first time.
"Now what this about going to space? You've travelled to stars in the night sky? Can you be serious?"
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Another dwarf in plate, this one with a shield, sword, and longbow. Even though they may not be 'traditional' dwarven weapons, he seems comfortable with them.
Ragathiel calls us all to be heroes as best we can. Ragathiel calls me to help others find the hero within themselves.
Just making these ahead of time in case it matters to the briefing.
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"Grel, it's a pleasure to see you again," drawls a lanky man leaning against the corner and covered in glowing tattoos that flicker as if aflame. "And Yasuka told us we would be in good company with you in our midst, Styfis. Good to meet you at last." He nods to the other dwarves. "You can call me Kije."
A tattoo across Kije's back bursts into flame as a fire mephit emerges and wheels around the room. "Puny dauðlegir eins og þú ert ekki verðugt að takast á við einn eins og hann. Boga, og biðjið að hann muni ekki koma með sterkar logar á þér!" he cries as he circles around the ceiling before alighting on Kije's shoulder and glaring at the other Pathfinders.
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Kije sighs. "These are allies, not enemies," he says wearily to his companion as if he's had this same conversation many many times before turning back to the other Pathfinders. "This ball of sunshine and good manners is Neisti," he says with a grin. "Pay no mind to his posturing, and let me know if he throws something worse than words at you."
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Tholgrin nods in approval at each of the newcomers, obviously pleased at having a devotee of Ragathiel, who's ethos clearly sits well with him. He mumbles a greeting into his beard at each introduction, but becomes animated at the appearance of Neisti.
"Oh Ignan! I've just been practicing this after I met some disagreeable Ifrit in Katapesh.". He clears his throat.
"And you both went to space? Remarkable, quite remarkable!
Venture-Captain Shevar Besnik arrives at the inn soon after you, and he's accompanied by Ollysta Zadrian, dressed in gleaming full plate bearing the holy symbol of Sarenrae. The two of them invite all of you into a back room to gain some privacy, and Ollustra waits for everyone to get settled before reciting a brief prayer. Her eyes are serious, but she wears a slight smile on her face. Shevar Besnik speaks first. “I’d like to begin by thanking you all for being here. The mission we have for you will be dangerous, but it is vitally important to the people of Lastwall and the Pathfinder Society. However, I am not the one coordinating this mission. For those of you who do not already know her, allow me to present Ollysta Zadrian, leader of the Silver Crusade, and the second-most intimidating Sarenite I’ve ever known.”
Ollysta places her helmet on the table. “Thank you, Shevar. Pathfinders, welcome to Three Pine’s Ford. We need you to recover an object from an ancient and most holy temple, the Bastion of Light. The relic in question is a helmet that rests somewhere within the temple, likely within a fountain. The Bastion of Light lies in the village of Roslar’s Coffer, northwest of here. The village is small, but its people are strong and friendly.” Ollysta pauses to close her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she says, “The Bastion was a
beautiful place used by Sarenite clerics during the Shining Crusade. They devised incredible rituals and brought many crusaders back from the brink of undeath. The helmet that we ask you to recover may have belonged to a powerful captain of the Shining Crusade, but unfortunately our histories have shed little light on its owner’s identity.”
Ollysta begins to pace in front of the table, “There is a complication. The Bastion of Light was claimed some eleven years ago by a creature known as a red reaver. The beast guards the Bastion fiercely and has killed or chased off all other would-be heroes, looters, and soldiers who have approached it. Please exercise caution, Pathfinders. The red reaver has become stronger every year, and it will not hesitate to kill you. Recover the helmet, and find a way to rid Roslar’s Coffer of the red reaver. Another Pathfinder in the area named Gorm Greathammer has been studying the Shining Crusade and knows more.”
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Tsura Vedoma is a human Varisian woman with large hoop earings and auburn hair spilling out from beneath a headscarf of teal and pale gold. In her thickly accented Taldane, she says, "Greetings fellow Pathfinders. I apologize for being late. I was detained on some...sensitive matters.
Venture-Captain, can you tell us why we are seeking this helm and offer any background on the temple?
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Tholgrin nods at the newcomer. "Good day milday"
He has had a thoughtful look during the briefing as if trying to place where he has heard this before, and the mention of the stained glass might be enough to jog his memory...
He can't place it though. "I hope so too."
He listens patiently for the answers to the other's questions before weighing in.
"Forgive me, but how can you be certain that the helm still lies in the Bastion? We will do our utmost to retrieve it of course, but if there's a chance it's already been taken I'd like to know in advance"
Zadrian is happy to answer your questions:
"Master Grel, the red reaver was already a huge, fearsome beast when it arrived in Roslar’s Coffer, but I suspect that it has developed a bond with some of the crusaders’ ritual sites and relics within the Bastion of Light. You would do well to see if you can sever that connection, but take care to not harm the things you find there. Though it has been abandoned for some time, it is still a holy place and we
are eager to restore it once the reaver is removed. The reaver itself is hard to miss--the few people who have seen it an lived described it as a hulking mountain of red flesh, moving faster than they would have thought possible for such a large beast."
Turning to Tsura, she adds, "I would not worry about the reaver destroying the windows. The creature is drawn to things that it finds beautiful. It jealously guards those things it finds, and it will do anything to keep you out of its territory. Perhaps you may be able to use its fascination against it.” Shevar adds, “Yes. I suppose it’s a shame I won’t be joining you then, eh, Pathfinders?” Ollysta glares at him in response before continuing. “There are many stories about the helmet, but unfortunately none of them can be verified. Some say the helmet belonged to a powerful captain of the Shining Crusade who fell in battle before the end of the war. Others say it belonged to a soldier corrupted by the Whispering Tyrant. Some even claim that the helmet was gifted to Arazni by Sarenrae herself. There are even more outlandish tales as well. The helmet is at the very least unique and sacred, but it could also be very powerful. It seems unlikely in the extreme that the helmet has already been retrieved. It was confirmed to be in the temple just before the red reaver arrived, and the jealous creature would not have allowed anyone to interfere with its territory.”
Shevar steps in to answer Morrolan's question. “You will travel up the Tourondel River, and the area should be temperate. Roslar’s Coffer is some one hundred and fifty miles northwest of here.
Arrangements have been made to provide you with safe transport upriver via boat or horse, your choice. You should reach the village within three days if you set a steady pace. Once you arrive, you can meet with Gorm Greathammer at the Toothless Pike Inn. He's probably the only dwarf in town, but look for his green cloak--and the great pack stuffed with scrolls that he carries. Quite the researcher!”
The letter reads as follows:
Greetings, Pathfinders,
Please take great care as you search the Bastion of Light.
This holy place must be preserved for the people of Roslar’s
Coffer, worshippers of Sarenrae, and all good and just beings
in this world. I expect that you will take particular care to
avoid any undue damage to the artifacts within the Bastion.
Should you encounter anyone or anything else within that
place, take heed that you do not judge too quickly. The
Dawnflower’s light can shine upon any being willing to receive
it. The Silver Crusade keeps you in its thoughts. Be brave,
bold, and compassionate.
—Ollysta Zadrian
Zadrian continues, "We do not know what drew the reaver here, other than the place's intense beauty. Shevar tells me that there are reports of orcs in the area. We suspect they are part of the Twisted Nail tribe, so avoid them if possible. Any noise is likely to draw the attention of the red reaver. We suspect that the orcs are there to coerce the red reaver to ally with them. Though it is unlikely that they would succeed in negotiating with the beast, their shamans may be able to twist its mind to their whims. I can’t imagine the devastation it could bring to the region." The paladin shakes her head at the thought.
"Will you be needing anything else before you leave?"
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Tholgrin looks satisfied with the responses, grunting along as they're given. "Boat or Horse makes no matter to me; I mislike them both equally, hah! Did anyone notice if this town had any decent shops in case we need special supplies for taking on a mighty beast like this?
At the mention of orcs his face screws up in anger. He knows he shouldn't judge a whole species, but he can't help but fight a little fiercer when orcs are the enemy.
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I think we have to prepare to go now.
Now the departure will come soon for sure. The questions brought some pieces of information. But what will they face? What will be this Reaver? Hopefully it's a legend, but it seems that it's not. Once again they have to go there to see. The real hope is to be the last party to go there for the Reaver. The hope is to be the party who will kill it.
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Tholgrin sits down at one of the tables, placing Beryl on the floor beside him. He places both hands on the table and closes his eyes. The air around his head shimmers and an almost imperceptible humming emanates from him as his eyes roll back into his head for a second, before they flash open.
He then announces what he knows to the group
Zadrian answers,"You'll just have to keep your wits about you and look for appropriate opportunities. Though, do be careful and considerate. This is not an opportunity for you to line your pockets at the expense of history or the people of Roslar’s Coffer. This mission stands to right a serious wrong and win back a holy site. Anything you find within the Bastion should be considered the property of the church and left where it is.” Shevar interrupts to add, “If you come across anything that might help you deal with the red reaver, use it. I’d rather not have to go over this briefing with another group.”
You travel over land to Rostler's Coffer.
As you are nearing the village, Grel notices signs of orc scouts along the road. The tracks are less than a week old and move toward the village and into the Fangwood.
The village of Roslar’s Coffer lies ahead. Along the shore of the river stands the busy but quiet fishery. Several abandoned buildings on the edge of the town are adorned with red ribbons, most worn and stained with time. Very little in the village appears to be recently built, and many houses appear to be in disrepair. Interspersed amongst the ribbon-adorned trees and buildings, hand-painted signs dot the roadways and alleys warning travelers to go no farther.
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When Grel warns of orcs, Tholgrin draws Beryl and holds her cautiously moving through town.
"What do you make of these red ribbons. Disease? We might ask this Grom when we find him"
The warning signs don't do anything to ease the tension, but after sharing some looks with the others he presses on. If they do find the Toothless Pike he'll strap Beryl to his back again before heading in and looking for Grel.
The villages seem a bit guarded, but generally friendly. They are easily able to direct you to the Toothless Pike.
The village has seen many adventurers and soldiers of Lastwall come in hopes of making a trophy of the red reaver. There was even a group of crusaders that came through town some time ago, but after the group left the village for the Bastion, they were never seen again. The villagers offer to send letters to the PCs’ loved ones should the heroes perish in the red reaver’s territory.
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When you enter the Toothless Pike, you recognize a dwarf that matches Gorm's description, who waves you over to his table.
The Toothless Pike is grey and quiet. A handful of patrons sit hunched over ales and ciders, waiting for plates of fish cakes frying in the kitchen. The dwarf sits at a long table near the fireplace, stacks of parchments, scrolls, and a great tome arranged neatly around him and a great, green cloak hung on the back of his chair. “Pathfinders! I’m glad you’ve arrived. I received word from Ollysta that you’d be coming. I understand you’re on your way to the Bastion of Light. I don’t envy you. That red reaver is one hell of a brute, and you should all be very careful. It’s much larger than it should be, and while it isn’t smart, it has very keen senses. I’ll do what I can to help you, though. I’ve drawn a rough map based on a few records and accounts passed along by the villagers here.”
“You’ll see that the helmet is likely in the font at the back of the Bastion. When you have it and the red reaver is defeated, please return it to me. I’ve done some research, and I think I might be able to learn something about the helmet’s original owner if I can examine it personally.”
“Now, I’m certain that the red reaver has been affected by the healing font and that undoing that connection will weaken it, but I suspect a connection with some of the other ritual sites and artifacts in the Bastion as well. Once you make it inside, see what you can find. I’m sure there are still a few ritual sites from the Shining Crusade that can aid you, should you show the same qualities and behaviors as the folk the the Bastion was built for.”
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Tholgrin strokes his beard. "Hmmm, fascinating. My first mission for the society took place in the General Arnisant museum in Ridonport. There is much to be inspired by in the heroes of the shining crusade, let us hope that we can honour their memory in this temple"
He draws a wooden box covered in Osirian hieroglyphics from his pack and places it on the table. "This may seem strange, but Torag teaches that a good strategy is worth as much as a good hammer, and this game has been imbued with magic by the Gods of Osirian to keep your wits sharp. It sounds like we may need it today. Would anyone like to play with me? It should take around half an hour"
Gorm is affable and amenable to talking about his own exploits (as both a Pathfinder and as the third prince of the sky citadel Kraggodan), and he happy answers your questions as best he is able.
"According to the townspeople, the Bastion is mostly intact. It was a sturdy building and has weathered the years well. I can't speak to what the inside is like, though. There is a path up to the Bastion through the woods outside of town." Gorm checks his substantial pile of notes, but comes up shaking his head. "Unfortunately, I don't have any information specifically about separating the reaver from the relics, but I imagine that rededicating them to Sarenrae would have some effect." Hearing Styfis' question, the dwarf replies, "When the shrine was dedicated, it offered its blessings to everyone, so I doubt anything in it is forbidden, as long as you use it in a reverent way."
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Puzzling over the final move in the game, Tholgrin finally figures it out. "Hah! You set that up four moves ago, very nice! It's always nice to play with new people. Thank you"
He packs up the game and listens to Gorm's answers. "It sounds like a very dangerous mission we undertake. Would you mind if I borrowed some of your note-paper?" He writes a small note on the paper, folds it over and writes in larger lettering "Beryl Stonebeard - Helmsborough, Highhelm" and hands it to Gorm. "If we should join the ranks of those who don't return, please see to it that this note reaches my wife in Highhelm"
He then picks up Beryl from beside the table, shoulders his pack and puts his heavy dwarven boulder helm on. He also spends a minute digging around in his pack and finds a potion of cure serious wounds and loads it and a scroll (of see invisibility) into his wrist sheathes.
"I'm ready to be off. Sounds like we've got a hard day ahead of us. Styfis' tale of fighting orc tribes is intriguing. If it comes to it I picked up a bit of orc in my duties as a guard in Highhelm, perhaps we can ally with the enemies of our enemies"