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The dwarf eyes the shaggy creatures stampeding towards them, "DANGIT! No caves around, climbing ain't a thing dwarves are made for!" He debates making a stand to split the stampede, then reconsiders.
Swiftly moving over to the cliff he attempts to climb up and out of the way. Scrabbling up the cliff face to a small ledge he chuckles, "Guess it's good I ain't as stodgy as most of my kin."
Amiri reaches for her sword, ready to go down hacking. Seeing the tough dwarf seek higher ground she nods to herself and follows. No one to show up here, better play this smart.
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While most of the team manages to get up the side, Farlen (probably weighted down by his spellbooks) can't quite get clear of the ravine floor.
With the stampede passed you manage to make it to the end of the ravine without further issue. Further issue that is until you get out.
A dozen Kellid warriors with painted faces stand vigilant in the center of the route. Although they are armed with axes and round, Ulfen-styled shields, their weapons are not drawn. At the head, a tall and powerfully-built figure with piercing eyes steps forward. As he approaches, his hands are held palm up until he is close enough for words. “I am Hiryla,” he says in broken Common, his words flowing with a strange cadence that suggests that he is speaking words that were given to him by another to say. “You come with me… We must talk.”
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"Sure! Sorry about those animals, they weren't trying to actively hurt you. It looks like something spooked them and they panicked, making them run down here haphazardly." he says as he heals up Farlen.
Staracast then nods to Hiryla and hold's out his hand for a shake, "Come. Talk. I am Stratacast."
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The kellid nod, and then without a word head off eastward, slightly south of the path you were going to follow with the map.
Over the side of the hill you see a kellid encampment. Unlike the fur
and hide tents common among the nomadic northerners, this village is composed of small, round houses and low, long buildings built of stone with thatched roofs. The rectangular, round-topped buildings number almost 20 in all, gathered around a central, circular building that is larger and grander than the rest.
The leader of the group (who you gather is called Hiryla) leads you into the large central building.
Inside this grand hall, dozens of Kellid men, women, and children scurry to and fro, passing food and drink around an enormous central hearth. Long, low benches ring the fire, and a handful of elderly Kellids, decked out in ornate white furs sit on the other side of the flames from the building’s entrance. A young woman with one leg, walking with the aid of a crutch, greets Hiryla in Hallit, and then turns to the door and speaks in perfect Common. “Welcome to the North,” she says with a broad grin and a handshake. “My name is Teyma.”
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Teyma nods to Stracast, smiling "They are at that."
"We .. that is the Snowmask clan, have skirmished with a group of travelers out of Irrisen many times in the last few days. These intruders have come farther and farther into our lands. Initially, we
attempted to talk with these outsiders, but they attacked, and fought back."
She looks hard at your group.
"And now you too come, out of Irrisen and into our lands. Why have you come?"
"The elders want to hear your story. Tell us of your clan, and what brings you here. If the tale is good enough,[b]” she adds with a smile, “[b]we will tell you ours.”
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"Well Teyma, I guess you will Translate for us?" He pauses for confirmation. "Good."
Farlen pulls out a piece of paper and slowly and methodically rips it into small pieces.
"This paper represents our history as a civilization." "We work for a group that seeks to find all the pieces of this history even as they are scattered all around." "We call our group the Pathfinder Society."
He drops the paper and looks at the crowd. "We explore and find the pieces of the knowledge of history and piece it back together. We write what we find in Chronicles and publish them for others to learn from." He pauses and picked up some of the paper and mends it together.
"Knowledge of history is useful. It is a tool. It can be used to help and to harm." "Our group uses the knowledge to aid their respective areas in times of trouble." "However, as with all groups, we have those who what the knowledge for themselves and would use access to the knowledge as a way to gain wealth or power." "We are following a group like that." "They broke away from our group and now seek a weapon somewhere near here." "We are following a map given to us by a Sage in Whitethorn, a city in Irrisan. We have been following them for 4 days. On our first day out we found a battle field. The tribe there had tries to stop our rivals for this weapon. Instead of discussing a way through, they attacked." "We found a survivor and helped him get away safely." " have encountered other tribesmen and had to battle them. But we also spared them and gave them shelter until we could ease away."
Farlen continues to tell about the dinosaurs and the cave they found. He shows his sketches of the pictures. But sadly he cannot explain them.
He closes with gathering all the pieces of paper and mending it together, "Finally, knowledge when pieces together can be helpful." He shows a picture of Absolum. "Or harmful." He shows a picture of the world wound. "We are here to make sure it is not harmful in this instance. We must make sure our rivals do not get this powerful weapon."
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Staracast faces the crowd after Farlen, "I'm not much of a public speaker, but I will tell you the truth of why we have come here. A group of rebels from our group, like a smaller clan inside our bigger one, broke away from us and now sees Ranulf the Huscarl King's final resting place so that they may take his axe." he pauses to see if the name has any effect on the crowd, "We have come peacefully, only defending ourselves when we were forced, and even then, we did our best to make sure none of your clansman died in our clashes by bandaging them and giving them shelter with us at night. Our goal is to stop our rebel clan, called the Shadow Lodge, from defiling your ancestors tomb and stealing the weapon that belongs to your people and not theirs."
Amiri steps forward and addresses her fellow barbarians, "Flowery words are worth little, but here is my story. I lived among a clan in this realm, but was not respected for my might. Constantly berated and hated by my own tribe due to outdated traditions. It cost them in the end, when I showed my strength and slaughtered their best warriors. It brought shame upon me and shame upon my tribe, all because they were unable to adapt to the changing times. Do not follow their footsteps, simply bend your traditions to allow outsiders to assist you. We know these enemies you have fought. We have been tracking and chasing them all over the continent. With or without your help, we will stop them, but it is your choice to aid us or not."
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One of the elders, her face painted white like those of Hiryla and the other warriors, stands from the bench. With no other cue the room falls silent as she speaks. Her words have a strength and resonance belied by her withered frame.
“This is the story that the elders told me when I was a child. Once, a great warrior came to our lands from the South, though his blood and his beard were of the West, in the land where the first dragons hunt and kill. With gold and magic this warrior built a stone keep at the base of a mighty mountain. During this time he came to us, in peace, and invited us to his hearth with gifts of furs. Humbly he asked the elders of our clan if he could hunt with them and share in our ways. Quickly he proved himself a friend to all, sharing in our customs and sharing his with us."
She looks around the room, gauging her audience.
“By the time the last stone was laid in his keep, he had hunted with the elders many times, and made many kills. His axe, sheathed in fire, had protected us from the white wolves and the yetis, just as we too had used our food and furs to keep him warm against the deepest colds. When his banner was raised, the elders were guests in his hall, and some of his own house had already merged their blood
with our own. For years the king and our elders prospered, and we learned of crafts, weapons, and ways different from those that came before. "
“Then the white wyrms came. For beneath the keep, in the iced caverns below, the dragons had bred. For years their eggs slept
and waited. When they hatched, they plagued the king and his new house, but he fought them back with the strength of his arm and the fire of his axe, and the battle was nearly won. But when a matriarch of the white returned to tend her brood, she was furious at the king and threw herself on the keep in madness. In the season of the longest nights, still the sun set and rose again before the battle was decided. The King struck the wyrm down, even though his armor and his beard were white with the ice of her breath. Our elders made trophies and talismans from what remained of the beast, and helped
rebuild the crumbled tower."
“The mammoths crossed the plains ten times, three times over before the great king passed, and still the dragons were kept at bay. When the hour of his dying came, the great and generous Huscarl King gave all within his castle to those that had served and befriended his house, save for his mighty axe. "
"With this, the elders buried him, and as we raise a mound of stones over the dead when the earth is too cold to dig, so did the elders bring the mountain down atop our king. Ever since have we held vigil over his tomb and what lies within. We remember his lessons, his ways that bled into the ways of the elders to become our ways. And we remember his beard, first white with frost, then with age, as it symbolizes what he protected us from and what he stood watch against.”
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Touched by the story, Khargrom steps forwards and speaks, "That was a great tale, well put. Truly the stuff of legends, it speaks well for your tribe and I regret we even crossed blades. Surely you can see the danger if those thieves plunder the tomb. And if you do not wish to join us in stopping them, please at least travel with us to guarantee we do as we say."
Amiri pulls the massive sword off her back and lays it on the ground in front of the tribe, "I ripped this sword from the cold hands of a frost giant, then used it to remove his head. I pledge by it, the only thing I have of value in this life, that I will aid your tribe in defending the King's legacy."
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"Thank you for your story. It is filled with honor and great deeds. Your king was a great protector and fearless. He was true to your tribe in friendship and deserves his rest undisturbed." We will do our best to stop the greedy and wayward members of our society that wish to plunder the tomb of you protector and friend."
"We would welcome any aid or advice you could provide that could help us stop them."
[Ooc]I almost never use rerolls. I usually like to let things fall as they may. But I feel betrayed by the dice roller. I have a character Philip and a messily one GM star. I hope this will not fall short also]
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The proud snowmask seem unmoved by your speeches. Several angry young looking men continue to scowl in your direction, although the words of the elders seem to keep them in line.. for the moment.
Teyma explains. "You come into our lands asking for our help, but bring nothing except death with you. You will find no help here. Best you leave early in the morning. As our guests you will be spared hostility, but it is best not to try the tribes patience too long or 'accidents' may happen."
You spend a warm, if wary night in the encampment of the snowmask before being shown on your way in the morning. Following the map further you come to the edge of something spectacular...
The bones of two ancient stone watchtowers rise from the ground like sentries set to guard the entrance to Ranulf’s Keep. Snow and ice still cover their base, making them inaccessible, but they mark the edge of the Huscarl’s Keep, just visible in the distance.
Amiri stares at the elder and replies as she turns on her heel, "If we had truly brought death, you wouldn't be around to give your fancy speeches anymore. So just remember that before any 'accidents' happen. But worry not, we will leave in the morning and bother you no more."
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When the towers come into sight indicating the fortress is ahead, Amiri slams back the potion she was given earlier, "Let's go find those snakes and hack em up. I left this realm for a reason, I don't plan on dying here."
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Khargrom simply follows along, getting some rest and planning their next day out. "When we get there, I'll try to sneak up. Other than that, not much we can prepare for without knowing out battleground."
With the fortress tomb in sight, he slips off and tries to find some cover to use to creep up on the area.
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As you make your preparations, you see a small group of figures heading up the road toward you.
In their middle is a dark-skinned figure swathed in the orange and blue of a desert sky at sunset, who strides defiantly forward. "Come Pathfinders,” she invites in a honeyed tone, as her companions draw their weapons. “Let Jedrek’s Shard warm you against the cold.”
As she speaks, the massive axe in her hand bursts into flame.
Status, bold may post
Amri (barkskin)
Shadow lodge
Stratacast
Rocky the snake
Khagrom (hidden 20)
Farlen
Amiri moves up, pulling her massive sword off her shoulder and holding it in a two-handed grip before her pointed at their enemies, "You talk to much."
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The shadow lodge agents advance on you. Four of them fire bows at Amri, while the axe woman advances more cautiously. Amri winces in pain as two arrows connect, although her unusually thick skin prevents a third from also striking home.
Status, bold may post
Stratacast
Rocky the snake
Khagrom (hidden 20)
Farlen
Amri (barkskin) 7 damage
Shadow lodge
Amiri screams in anger as the arrows thud into her body, vision turning red and adrenaline rushing through her body her only thought is to start swinging her sword at enemies until there aren't any more. "RAAAARRRRGHHHHH"
for
for
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The badly wounded Amri charges forward, relieving the shadow-lodge leader of her flaming trophy as well as her head. The leaders lackeys look on in dismay at her rapid demise, and quickly throw down their weapons.
You do however still face one hefty question. The snowmask tribe obviously regards the flaming axe as some type of holy relic that needs to be protected. Do you intend to return it to them... or try to take it back to Absalom?
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Khargrom accepts the surrender of the fools, tying them up as Amiri admires her new prize. Then begins the walk back and attempts to convince her to surrender her axe. "Well lass, I get that you earned it in combat. No arguing that. But still, it wasn't theirs rightfully. Gotta take the high ground right? Give it back to the tribe?"
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"As a new member of the Society, I can imagine they can do without this relic, while it is clearly important to the people that have the most claim to it. Let's give it back and hope to make more valuable, although less tangible, peaceful ties to these people." Stratacast says as he walks over to catch up with Rocky.
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The snowmask clan is obviously pleased, albeit slightly surprised, at your decision to hand the axe back over to them. You are invited to join them as they return the axe to the ancient keep.
A small group of the Snowmask then climb the mountain behind it, and set off a massive avalanche that buries the keep once more, putting Kedrek's Shard, once again, out of the reach of the world.
That evening you are invited back as celebrated guests into the Snowmask lodge. There Teyma explains that there is a sacred ceremony in which you will be inducted into the tribe in recognition of your return of the axe, assistance with the outsiders, and magnanimous treatment of the Snowmask warriors that you defeated earlier, along with the assistance you provided to the badly wounded warrior.
Much tale telling, back slapping and drinking of horrendously strong alcohol is indulged in. To be honest you don't really recall terribly much after the first jug or two.
The next morning you wake up. Naked. In a snowdrift. With a terrible headache.
The really odd thing is, you don't feel a bit cold. Must be the alcohol still running in your veins. The snowmask seem to think the sight of you like this rather funny, but do return all your belongings to you and offer an escort back to 'weak, warm, southern lands'.