Contributor
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Hi folks! I'll be running my scenario Death on the Ice as part of the Outpost II play-by-post convention! I'm not taking sign-ups here, all of that is through the event which you can find here.
Players who are signed up, go ahead and dot in while I get everything organized.
Even through the thick walls of the Iceferry Pathfinder's Lodge, you can feel the cold. Frost covers most of the windows, and every few seconds there is a faint screeching howl as the wind finds a musical path through a tiny gap in the building's log armor.
The waiting room is a spartan affair, without the luxury or even comforts of some other Lodges. Several utilitarian chairs surround a threadbare rug in front of a roaring fire. A small side table with refreshments including hot beverages sits to one side. Throughout the room, several Pathfinders relax, waiting for the summons to see Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen.
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Cloaked in furs Mason helps himself to some hot mead before retrieving a small cage from his bags with a tiny black weasel inside. Releasing the weasel Mason watches as is it scurries around the room sniffing and inspecting each agent in turn, eventually returning it to the cage once it tired of the new smells. With the weasel and cage now hanging securely from his belt, Mason introduces himself.
"Mason."
With introductions out of the way he returns to the side of the room and leans against the wall, the massive shield on his back makes a dull thunk against the cold logs.
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A second dwarf, sits huddled near the fire, shivering.
He doesn't say much, seemingly buried under layers of furs and thick clothes in a vain attempt to keep the cold at bay. Only the sound of frequent sniffling, and coughing, coming from his direction.
Of course, as soon as Mason releases the weasel, the second dwarf reacts almost immediately, as if suddenly a dragon had entered the room and were trying to claw his face off. He almost tips out of his chair, backing away from the tiny creature, as he retreats as far from it as he can.
"No..." He gasps out, almost unheard beneath the layers of clothes. His breath comes in a slight wheeze. "Keep it away. Awergic.." Any further words are cut off as he starts sneezing almost uncontrollably, as he desperately digs through some bags sitting on the floor nearby.
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A dark-haired woman dressed in a stylish pantsuit joins the group. Clearly visible is an insignia of the Dark Archive. She looks around with a stern gaze.
"Get those allergies under control! Those sneezing attacks can be a major liability in the field."
"I am Lilybeth Zey. By the looks of it, I'm going to be the brain of this party."
"I am Lilybeth Zey. By the looks of it, I'm going to be the brain of this party."
A minuscule gold-scaled dragon perched Lilybeth's shoulder adds
"Indeed Lilybeth, it looks like these fine people are well versed in the department where we are lacking: brawn. A diverse group is essential for any successful mission."
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Loxx, simply states the large Varisian man. Wearing a breastplate made from the hide of a dragon, he is festooned with weapons, but grips a sturdy oak staff. Despite his bulk, the man moves fairly quickly. He is dressed in furs, but appears to be mostly unaffected by the cold.
"I will guide you through these harsh lands."
He then gestures to his pumpkin-headed companion who seems to be enjoying the cold a bit less than Loxx.
"This is Fetch, my helper."
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Looking at Lilybeth.
"Oh darling, you can be the brains. I'll be the beauty of this here group."
Looking over at Bertha.
"Although you do have a spark of the beauty in you too. Have you ever thought of dancing?"
You see a beautiful aasimar woman barely dressed in fine silks that leave very little to the imagination. You can clearly see some tattoos on her skin through the thin fabric and you wonder how it is she is not freezing with practically nothing on.
"I am LifeLover though most call me Life and a very select few call me Lover. I am a professional exotic dancer and courtesan here to entertain you and keep your spirits up."
I do a little twirl and flourish of the silks revealing even more skin which you didn't think was even possible to show more of.
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The palid-looking dwarf digs out a number of small vials from a well-used healing kit and starts drinking down various tinctures and inhaling a number of different powdery substances.
Eventually, he stops sneezing quite so badly, though his face has turned a bright reddish color, one side swollen almost comically, and both eyes are watering.
"I'm ahwight." He mutters quietly, as if this sort of thing were entirely normal for him. He is clearly still congested, and his breath still comes out in a raspy wheeze. He stays in the corner though, and pulls out a white mask, that he quickly pulls over his mouth and nose, as eyes the weasel warily.
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Eyeing the exposed skin of Life critically then the sneezing fit of the sickly dwarf the armored dwarf takes a gulp of the hot mead. "I'm not much of a researcher or ambassador, I get assigned to teams the Decemvirate and Masters want's to stay living... So either someone is expecting trouble out there or one of you is a favorite of those in power, either way if we get into an engagement out there stay close to me... I'll keep yer name off the Wall a' Names..."
After several second of thought Mason retrieves a heavy wool covering and drapes it over the weasel's cage. Looking to Sickly, Mason's armor chinks as he shrugs apologetically "Might help with the smell."
A wizened gnome enters, glancing at you before returning his gaze to the floor. "Venture-Captain will see you now," he says softly, then turns to lead you deeper into the Lodge.
Ass you enter the Venture-Captain's office, a keen-eyed half-orc man rises from his desk with a broad smile. At the same moment, a large husky leaps up from beside the desk and bounds eagerly across the room, tail wagging.
“Welcome to Iceferry, Pathfinders! I am Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen, head of this Lodge." He goes around the group, offering his hand in friendship, and bowing slightly to each of you.
"This is Mahki.” He indicates the husky that is circulating around the room, sniffing and nuzzling those present.
“I’ll come right to the point,” Bjersig begins, his eyes flitting back and forth around the room constantly. “I’ve received a concerning report from one of my agents up on the Whitefang Peninsula. Svala Ice-rider is a meticulous researcher who has been combing the Lodge’s records for the last year. She stumbled upon an old myth recorded by an Ulfen explorer in contact with the Erutaki clans around Whitefang Bay. Few people seem to devote any time to studying the Erutaki culture, but Svala’s mother is of Varki descent and so she has a personal connection. She’s become my expert on Varki and Erutaki culture."
“Svala found an ancient loresong that had been translated and recorded by Ulfen traders, which spoke of a glacier on the Whitefang Peninsula which protected the lands from the coming of the dark of winter. It sounded like a typical local legend, but Svala came to believe that something had been lost in the translation. And she was correct.” He shakes his head in amazement.
“The Erutaki record their tales through oral histories passed down within a tribe or village. The trouble is, the languages of the Crown of the World have so many local variations and tonal nuances, not to mention culturally specific similes and metaphors, that direct translation is often flawed. The Ulfens who recorded the story probably used magical aid to understand it, but many of the Erutaki oral histories use allegory and cultural keystones to quickly convey complex concepts... concepts that can be easily misunderstood when translated literally. This find was hidden in plain sight for hundreds of years, just waiting for someone who could comprehend it.”
Bjersig moves to a large map of northern Avistan on the wall, gesturing to illustrate his words. “Svala’s expedition left
three months ago. They sailed to the edge of the ice pack and then went inland by dogsled. It’s a hard trip in the winter, but any excavation is best done while the tundra is still frozen. In spring, the entire region turns into a muddy swamp, and any dig sites would run the risk of collapsing.”
Bjersig pulls a velvet cord beside his desk, and the wizened gnome quickly appears at the door. “Please send in Kuokei.” The gnome nods and disappears down the hallway, leaving the office door wide open.
“Svala has been sending regular reports by messenger, but her last report indicates things have taken an ominous turn. She and her team have uncovered a large ice structure buried under the snow, as well as signs of an Erutaki village, but the site is contaminated with blackfrost, a toxic and corrosive substance that blows down from strange ruins at the north pole. What’s worse, there seem to be a number of unusual undead creatures also buried in the snow, of a kind never before seen. Svala is worried that perhaps there were more translation errors, ones she missed, that might shed light on what this site is and how it should be handled.”
Suddenly a large and majestic snow-white owl flies into the room, landing to perch on the back of the venture-captain’s chair. “Ah, here is Kuokei,” the venture-captain proclaims, indicating the owl. “She arrived last night with a missive from Svala, requesting assistance. And so, we finally come to the details of your assignment.” He slides a large bundle of papers and journals across the desk.
“This packet contains copies of Svala’s notes and the original Ulfen translation of the myth. Svala thinks that she may have missed more of the story, or that the rest of the Ulfen translation may also be faulty. I need you to take these notes to Aaminiut, the largest Erutaki village in the Crown of the World. Speak with the elders there and see what their oral histories reveal about the site that the Ulfen translations don’t. Send the information with Kuokei off to Svala at once, and then follow at best speed yourself to offer Svala what help you can before the thaw comes. I’ve got a longship ready to sail with the tide, with enough food and supplies to get you to Aaminiut. Resupply there, meet with the elders, and arrange some local land transportation and supplies to get you to the site. Now, any questions?”
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During the briefing Mason's folded hands extend one finger, then a second and third as he tries to keep track of mental notes. Once the Venture-Captain stops he blurts out his questions before other conversation distracts him "Blackfrost. Undead. Erutaki."
Stopping to gather his thought, he continues. "Blackfrost, never heard of it. What is it? How do we protect ourselves from it?"
"The undead, What is so unusual about them"
"And the Erutaki, are they friends of the Society? Will we be travelling through territory that is unfriendly to the Society or outsiders?"
His part said Mason takes a step back and waits for the questions and insights of the others.
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The large dog nearly sends Sickly into a panic, as he immediately starts backing out of the room, pulling more layers over his face as he does so. Although he doesn't say anything specifically, you will note a small moan from under the furs.
He stops with his back pressed up against the door, doing everything he can to avoid touching anything, his hands buried in pockets, and head almost completely covered.
Distracted by the furry mobile allergen, he has a hard time concentrating on the briefing.
Bjersig begins to answer questions.
”Blackfrost is a poisonous dust that blows on the wind. It comes from an abandoned alien city at the North Pole. It sometimes surfaces in other northern areas as well. It seems Svala’s dog uncovered a patch of it. “
”The undead seem to be animated frozen corpses, perhaps Ulfen explorers or some of the original people who lived there. Svala’s report says that their touch “freezes the flesh and the soul. They are definitely the “meaty” type,” he smiles at Loxx.
”The Erutaki aren’t one people; it’s a blanket name for the dozens of cultural and linguistic groups scattered across the Crown of the World. They trace their ancestry to a mix of Varisian and Tien peoples, combining the nomad life and artistic traditions of the Varisians with the drive of early explorers who came over the pole from Tien Xia. They are generally friendly to southerners, although there are scattered groups who feel that non-Erutaki are lower on the food chain than you might prefer. Waste not want not, in the realm of the boreal pole!”
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Bjersig begins to answer questions.
”Blackfrost is a poisonous dust that blows on the wind. It comes from an abandoned alien city at the North Pole. It sometimes surfaces in other northern areas as well. It seems Svala’s dog uncovered a patch of it. “
"I can add that Blackfrost does physical and cold damage."
”The Erutaki aren’t one people; it’s a blanket name for the dozens of cultural and linguistic groups scattered across the Crown of the World. They trace their ancestry to a mix of Varisian and Tien peoples, combining the nomad life and artistic traditions of the Varisians with the drive of early explorers who came over the pole from Tien Xia. They are generally friendly to southerners, although there are scattered groups who feel that non-Erutaki are lower on the food chain than you might prefer. Waste not want not, in the realm of the boreal pole!”
"The risk of being eaten is probably higher when dealing with polar bears who have ventured inland."
"I've read about the geography of these surroundings: The Crown of the World is an ice-covered land that joins the continents of Avistan and Tian Xia over Golarion’s northern pole. Even in summer, the temperature is close to freezing, and winter brings some of the coldest temperatures experienced on Golarion. Travelers in the far north should watch out for snowstorms and ensure they keep dry. Being wet is like lowering the temperature from cold weather to severe cold, or severe cold to extreme cold."
Lilybeth continues.
"The Erutaki village of Aaminiut is built on stilts over the Taraska River delta along the western coast. It is the largest Erutaki settlement, and serves as the main point of trade between the Erutaki and Ulfen peoples."
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'Cannibals, glacial beasts, and killing cold. Are we being sent to our deaths? For some old writings?' "Sounds like a simple task." Looking between the Venture Captain and Loxx, The dwarf soldier continues; "Any recommended additional provisions?"
Hefting the large bundle of notes and journals, Mason cringes at the reading ahead of him. "Loxx, let's go through those notes and see what more they have to say on the undead." Before quickly looking to Lilybeth and stuttering "When you are done with them of course..."
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Before the briefing,
Bertha sits in a large comfortable chair, her considerable size obvious as she easily fills out the generous recliner. Her long golden hair runs down her back and her black robes are accented by black embroidered patches and white gloves.
She smiles and laughs at Lifelover and blushes a bit at her compliment;
Oh dear, your a lovely one aren't you? it's nice to have such beauty to keep us company she looks over towards Lilybeth as she stuffs her mouth with a small cake.
That's a smart little pet you have there and aren't you all shiny and golden! Isn't this going to be a fun group Bertha says with a laugh Tell me Mason are you single, my sister Catrina is fond of the strong silent types, I would so love for you two to meet
Once the Venture Captian has completed the briefing she asks;
Are they friendly undead?
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Tell me Mason are you single, my sister Catrina is fond of the strong silent types, I would so love for you two to meet
After slipping a few snacks into the weasel cage, Mason looks up at Bertha "I'm alone and will remain that way." 'No. To grow close to another only to see them fall.. Never again...'
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That's a smart little pet you have there and aren't you all shiny and golden!
The tiny dragon seems to almost instinctively want to use his breath weapon when Bertha says the word 'pet', but he manages to keep his cool.
Moral high ground
"Your assumption that I am a pet is wrong. I am a dragon and thus more sentient than a human like yourself. I will let your mistake slide, but be aware that most of my kind are usually not as forgiving."
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@Mason: "Be prepared for the cold. It's still winter, which is when most digs have to happen out here. The spring melt softens the ground and either floods the excavation sites or they collapse. Onboard ship you'll be sheltered, but you'll need to stay out of the wind and be able to make a fire reliably. Take dry clothes - if you get wet, you'll die without a change and a way to warm up."
Bjersig doesn't seem to notice Bertha's question, even though it happens during a pause in conversation, but then Mahki the husky bounds over and noses him in the leg, then points his nose at Bertha. Bjersig pats the dog absently as he speaks. "I'm sorry, I didn't see your question. Would you mind repeating it, please?"
As the question is repeated, you see the Venture-Captain focuses on Bertha's lips intently. You realize that the Venture-Captain is completely deaf, although clearly a talented lip-reader.
"Friendly undead? No, the three that Svala records in her notes have not been friendly undead. More like "try to eat your face" undead. If I had to gusss, I'd say some sort of frost zombie or wight or something, although they couldn't identify them as belonging to any known classification."
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Sickly can't wait to get out of the room with all the animals in it, though he tries to disguise it as a need to go buy supplies.
When you finally do meet up again, at the dock, you almost don't recognize him. He seems to be almost twice as wide, from all the layers of clothes he is wearing, and you can barely see his head, much less recognize the dwarf underneath. A large wool toque is pulled down tightly over his head, earflaps tied under his chin, and a big tassle on the top. A long scarf is wrapped around his neck, at least twice, and still dangles a few feet down on either side.
He also appears to have acquired a number of new items of dubious usefulessness, including, a prominent pair of snow shoes and what look like two five foot long narrow planks, strapped to his back.
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I inform the group with what little arcane information I was able to recall.
"The ancient race that built the eerie city near the north pole left behind strange arcane engines that still produce emanations of entrancing blue energy as well as a vile black sludge known as blackfrost. This sludge oozes below the surface of the Boreal Expanse through subglacial channels, occasionally burbling to the surface in pools of dark slurry. Arctic winds sometimes bear flecks of the viscous substance and deposit it as a residue of black frost on cliff sides and glaciers."
"It sounds like we should find some snuggley furs at the shops before we leave. Although it would be a shame to cover myself up completely, I'll have to see what fashions I can find. Ladies would you care to join me for some girl shopping time?"
"Also if you all don't mind, I would like to cast Message on everyone about once an hour so we have a reliable form of communication in case of some severe weather. If you use it to whisper sweet nothings to me, all the better."
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"Polar bears will be out an about at this time of year. They tend to be hungry and will chance any meal they come across. It means we also have to make sure to keep an eye out of stampeding caribou that may be fleeing."
"I will make our camp as comfortable as possible, but it sounds like we need to keep dry. Anyone have any magic for that?"
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"I will make our camp as comfortable as possible, but it sounds like we need to keep dry. Anyone have any magic for that?"
"We can strike a Heatstone and get all cozy under some furs. If we need a source of magical fire, I have many creative ways to start a fire, we'll just need a source of fuel to keep it going."
"It’s three weeks to Aaminiut, and then another two to the excavation site on the Whitefang Peninsula. Sickly, you'd best get used to dogs, they're about the only reliable form of travel on the ice."
"Remember, once you learn what you can at Aaminiut, send a note to Svala with Kuokei, her snowy owl, and then get there as fast as you can yourselves. Spring is still months away, so there isn't any major time pressure, but there's no reason to dawdle. Good luck."
The wizened gnome appears at the door again, and leads you out of the Venture-Captain's office. You have the rest of the evening to prepare, and your ship will leave in the morning.
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"Ladies would you care to join me for some girl shopping time?"
"That... that would be... nice!"
I've never gone on a shopping spree before.
"Oh, maybe you spontaneous girls can tell me what spells you cast, so I can choose the right spells to study so we can complement each other!"
life bubble[APG] (DC 24)
summon monster V (2x)
wall of force
4th
black tentacles
dimension door (2x)
emergency force sphere (2x)
3rd
fly
haste
communal resist energy[UC] (2x)
shrink item (DC 22)
summon monster III
2nd
command undead (DC 21)
create pit[APG] (DC 22)
euphoric cloud[ACG] (DC 22)
glitterdust (DC 22)
investigative mind[ACG]
suppress charms and compulsions
1st
alarm
endure elements (2x)
glue seal[ACG] (2x)
grease
mage armor (2x)
0 (at will)
dancing lights
mage hand
message
prestidigitation
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Spell-Like Abilities (CL 8th; concentration +13)
1/day—daylight
Bloodline Spell-Like Abilities (CL 8th; concentration +13)
8/day—grave touch (2 rounds)
Sorcerer Spells Known (CL 8th; concentration +13)
4th (4/day)—summon monster IV
3rd (6/day)—halt undead (DC 19), summon monster III
2nd (7/day)—boneshaker (DC 18), command undead (DC 18), false life
1st (8/day)—chill touch (DC 17), grease, mage armor, ray of enfeeblement (DC 17), shield, vanish[APG] (DC 16)
0 (at will)—acid splash, daze (DC 15), detect magic, disrupt undead, prestidigitation, ray of frost, read magic, touch of fatigue (DC 16)
"That's very thoughtful dear, I think we have some overlap, but I don't think that's a bad thing."
"Does anyone have a way to talk to the locals?"
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Special Attacks fire ray (1d6+4 fire)
Spell-Like Abilities (CL 9th; concentration +15)
. . 3/day—dancing lights
. . 1/day—pyrotechnics (DC 18)
Sorcerer Spells Known (CL 9th; concentration +17)
. . 4th (5/day)—ball lightning[APG] (DC 22), phantasmal killer (DC 20), wall of fire
. . 3rd (7/day)—fireball (DC 21), fly, haste, lightning bolt (DC 21)
. . 2nd (8/day)—blindness/deafness (DC 19), flurry of snowballs (DC 20), mirror image, resist energy, scorching ray
. . 1st (8/day)—burning hands (DC 19), ear-piercing scream[UM] (DC 19), enlarge person (DC 17), magic missile, shield, snowball[UW]
. . 0 (at will)—acid splash, detect magic, disrupt undead, mage hand, message, prestidigitation, ray of frost, read magic
"I'm pretty focused on energy damage as all of my energy damage spells can convert to fire damage instead if I choose. For example, my lightning bolt can be a fire bolt instead. And you haven't lived until you've see a Flurry of Snowballs turn into a Flurry of Fireballs."
"I also have mnemonic vestments so I can use a scroll once a day without consuming it. So I keep a bunch of them for just in case."
scroll of blindness/deafness,
scroll of communal darkvision,
scroll of darkness (CL 4th),
scroll of daylight (CL 6th),
scroll of dimension door,
scroll of dispel magic,
scroll of fly,
scroll of gaseous form,
scroll of glitterdust,
scroll of greater invisibility,
scroll of invisibility,
scroll of protection from energy,
scroll of see invisibility,
scroll of shatter (CL 4th),
scroll of spider climb,
scroll of suppress charms and compulsions,
scroll of tongues,
scroll of water breathing
For languages, I have a wand of comprehend languages as well as a scroll of tongues should we need them.
After a hearty meal and a good night's sleep, you rise with the dawn and head to the docks. The longship Rimedrake is at your disposal, captained by Brynhild Redaxe. As your gear is taken aboard, a snowy owl glides out of the clouds and lands on the mast. Kuokei has arrived.
"Lots of animals with this bunch," Captain Redaxe mutters, indicating the new arrival. "Just make sure you keep your beasts under control, if you please. Space is tight aboard ship, and noisy or smelly animals won't make you any friends among the crew."
With the tide, the sleek ship eases out of harbor and heads out into the bay. The rhythmic sound of the oars and the creek of the rigging soon become familiar sounds even to those unused to nautical voyages.
Your group is given a cabin aft, with room for 6 hammocks at night and a small table and stools during the day.