_..._
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A female halfling in a modified Tien dress that appears to be suited equally for both social decorum as well as physical activity steps into the room with a low whistle.
”By my stars, here we are again,” Orla exhales, looking around with anticipation, her hands smoothing the folds of her dress. A starknife hangs loose from her belt in a makeshift scabbard. Orla occasionally touches it, as if to remind herself that it’s still there.
”Maybe there won’t be a ship this time,” she murmurs to herself with optimism.
Your trip aboard the Seahag was swift and uneventful, and after several weeks of being cramped inside the hull of a ship, you arrived to the docks of Iceferry, a district of the capital of Kalsgard, flanked at the sides by the fertile farmlands along the Rimeflow River. Winters are harsh in the Lands of the Linnorm Kings, but it appears the summer gives them an adequate growing season. Iceferry is, as most of the villages and steadings you pass, fortified, with wooden palisades and stone walls, with severe men and women manning the walls and towers. Snow covers the buildings and the chill air burns your lungs with each breath. You all have the feeling this is a harsh land that breeds harsh people.
Upon disembarking, the grim atmosphere is broken by a small female gnome waving and out of breath who wears a wayfinder prominently around her neck. She greets you with a smile and starts talking hurriedly as she guides you to the lodge. "Hello, hello! My name is Lirall! Wonderful! Venture-Captain Torrsen has been expecting you, but not so quickly! Come, come! We can catch him in his office".
The lodge at Iceferry is small compared to the Grand Lodge of Absolom, a squat low building just like the others in town: close the ground and flanked by piles of straw. It's almost as if the buildings themselves were huddled against the ground seeking warmth. Upon entering the front door a flight of stairs take you to a basement floor, where several chairs and tables are empty.
"Please wait here a moment. I've just got to check on a few things first".
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The middle aged man of Brevoy decent introduces himself as " Lord Gabros Orlovsky"
He is tall and of a lithe build. His black hair is greying at the temples and despite his clothes being designed for a noble court a careful look can see that they are well made, hard-wearing, and would not restrict movement.
A signet ring on his left hand shows a black eagle, wings spread, against a gold field; supporting his claim of noble birth.
He looks uncertain, almost nervous. Glancing around and examining his fellow Pathfinders closely when he doesn't think they are looking.
"Not a warm welcome you could say.
He gives a forced laugh
"I speak in jest of course."
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Of course there was another ship, Orla thinks ruefully as she first steps gratefully into Iceferry.
Orla regards the gnome with bemusement, thankful for the touch of hospitality offered. She looks around at her other travel companions, thoughtful about what she’s learned of each of them during the overseas travel.
”We met on the ship!” the halfling says brightly. ”Desnan priest. I can heal whatever ails you, and grant you luck that it won’t happen again!” She chortles at her own humour.
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"oh yes, so we did." Orlovsky says with a diplomatic smile
There are so many new faces, these agents. And they are all so young! Maybe this was a mistake.
Though he largely kept to himself on the ship Gabros is keen to get to know his companions and in truth he hid away due to terrible seasickness which he didn't want to let anyone see.
I hope I have not been too distant and aloof. I keep forgetting this isn't court anymore; I need to remember what my niece told me, I don't need to worry about my ever word and deed being used against me.
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Wearing wolf furs and tanned leather, and brandishing a hatchet over the shoulder stands a Goblin. A toothy grin gives a feeling of good company, only slightly offput by his bulbous red eyes.
His skin is the colour of a winter's sky, and is taut across strong cheekbones. His face has seen a lot of the outdoors. It's quite noticable, as like most goblins he has a well pronounced head compared to the rest of his frame.
" 'Ello, noice to meet you. I'm Inzo. Erm... Well I didn't exactly come wif a story prepp'd." He looks deeply at his axe, almost wishing that it would introduce him and the spotlight would be moved on. I was a huntah, then I was a lumb'rjack, then I was a... *mumbles* ... and then I'm a Paff-finda agent." With his rolling sentence he scans the room for whether his social obligation is passed. "We'll find your missing handkerchief, or sort out ya cursed britches, or whateva is gone wrong up here. I've heard Paffindas get into some odd jobs. Nuffing I ... we can't handle"
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Bert tugs a thick, brightly-coloured woollen beanie down around his ears as they trudge to the Pathfinder lodge. He glances about sullenly, continuing the incessant grumbling that began at the outset of the journey and has never ceased since.
"Kalsgard, humph. Joined the Society to see the world, make a coin or two, and first thing they do is send me home."
The burly dwarf pauses for a moment to re-adjust his gear: slinging the heavy steel-bossed and banded shield across his shoulder where it clacks against his woodsman-like battle axe, and tightening the straps on his broad breastplate that strains to keep his gut in check.
A grin finally cracks his face: "Though there ain't no ale like a Kalsgard ale."
He eyes Gabros appraisingly: "Must've been sea-addled; didn't realise we were travelling with a noble fellow. Certainly cut yourself a fine figure in those clothes. Where'd you say you were from again?"
"Oh good"; Lirall says as she moves towards you. "Venture-Captain Torrsen is available, let me summon him for you." She moves towards the door, selecting one cord labeled “Office” from a bundle of colored cords and gives it a soft tug.
"ArrrOOOOoooo!"
The loud howl from a dog echoes throughout the building, followed by a trio of scampering, blue‑skinned goblins dashing down the hall. They glance at Inzo wide-eyed and screech "TAKE COVER!", before ducking under the counter. A large husky bursts into the hallway, snarling at the goblins until a tall half‑orc emerges a moment later and lays a calming hand on her back. Lirall shocked, looks at the huddled goblins and towards the man. Mouth covered, she starts babbling, "I'm so sorry! I forgot!". The man extends his hand in a calming gesture, he then motions for you to follow him into a meeting room, seemingly ignoring the goblins and Lirall.
Venture‑Captain Bjersig Torrsen begins explaining the situation, his dog Mahki sitting attentively nearby. As he speaks aloud, the half‑orc punctuates his words with phrases in a sign language.
“Apologies for the ruckus. The Frostfurs are talented scouts, but they have an adversarial relationship with Mahki. She doesn’t particularly like them either.
Mahki glares at Inzo.
“To the reason I called you here! The Grenskuldr family traces their lineage back to the storied warrior Grehunde the Sun Chaser, a Linnorm King who ruled over the city of Jol and whose victories in battle were legendary. The family still has a lot of influence. I’ve asked them to help out the Society, and they’ve asked for a favor in exchange. That’s where you come in. Are you familiar with Valenhall?”
Ulfens must buy their way into Valenhall, and they always make the journey with a large stash of gold or gems.
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Gabros looks slightly uncomfortable at the dwarf’s question.
“Ah... Brevoy. Up north near the River Kingdoms”
Though he jumped at the shouted warning Gabros isn’t phased by the dog.
If that dog scared those little blue creatures It would be greatly assuming to see how they would react to the hounds from my kennels back home.
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Inzo wouldn't have hid as much as the other frostfur goblins when the dog came out. He doesn't like 'em, but he had to work with dogs once he left the goblin tribes so call it a workplace hazard.
--- Once the conversation turns to the job ---
Inzo could not give a rats arse about politics, even tribal warlords. Who is king, who is lord, who is master barbarian, ravager of the arcadian ocean. It's not him. But given that its his first mission for the society, he racks is brains for something he can use.
He thinks back to his taskmaster back in his last lumber camp, near Solskinn. A right bastard, but with a knowledge of what was happening in the nation. Knowing political movements meant knowing the needs of the wealthy, and that was his game. Even as a common lumber farm owner.
Trying to keep a social face, Inzo is working hard to recall what he said, right before Inzo told him he was quitting, and gave him a piece of ... "stay focussed Inzo!" he thinks to himself. "King blood-bag, blood... blood eagle! Blood eagle did that big trip 'cross the sea to Arcadia."
Now that's he's got a fact, he looks for a spot to use it.
"So let me guess, we're 'ere to go chase King Blood Eagle across the arcadian ocean, he's left something behind and we've gotta get 'im his extra axes 'n sabretooth tiger furs right? He's doing one of 'em final journeys."
Inzo breaks into a grin, proud of his recollection, despite having to think of his rotten boss
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Bert nods to Gabros: "Oh yeh, the one with the swordlords, right? You a swordlord?" He looks Gabros up-and-down, eyes searching for a weapon or hint of martial ability.
"Name's Bert, by the way. No 'Lord' for me, but buy me an ale and I'll let you call me mate."
At Inzo's arrival Bert clangs a heavy fist against his breastplate and proclaims: "Inzo! Well strike me dead and bury me with my feet towards the sky! Didn't think fortune would bring us on a mission together so swiftly. Com'ere you little ball of spiky bear farts."
He reaches over to rub the goblin's head in an aggressively affectionate manner.
Bert racks his head, but nothing springs to mind. He watches Inzo puzzle out the information, trying to follow the gnarled branches of his thoughts. At the conclusion he lets out a devestated sigh and turns back to Venture-Captain Torrsen.
"We finally get off a boat and touch some gods-blessed ground in how many weeks, and you're tellin' me we might have to get right back on another?"
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"Not a swordlord by title, but I have had a great deal of training with several groups within the swordlords." Gabros pauses and coughs awkwardly "But that was some time ago. Hopefully my arm remembers." he pats the hilt of the sword on his hip while subtly avoiding meeting Bert's eyes
Gabros is clearly in good physical condition. While not overly muscular he moves with grace and poise. While Venture‑Captain Torrsen speaks he removes his winter gloves to let his fingers breathe and they show the signs of someone who has lived a life beyond that of a nobles villa. Plenty of calluses, scratches, and fading bruises, not to mention the occasional scar.
Thin and straight, the scars are what would be expected from intense sword training, though they do seem faded.
After Inzo's comments Gabros' forehead wrinkles
What in Abadar's name was that creature trying to say, I bearing understood a word of it. Oh! King Blood-Eagle, right of course
As a nobleman in the tangled web of politics that is Brevoy Gabros' learnt to keep abreast of all much of the goings on in the world as possible and though he has been away from home for a while he remains in contact with the networks that he relied on.
"Valenhall, lets see... founded in –473 AR by Linnorm King Ulvass, and as you say ...Enso... King Sveinn Blood-Eagle recently travelled there as many brave Ulfen long to do when- please hold on, is King Sveinn preparing for death? That is somewhat traditional is it not?"
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“So where do you call home little one?”
"My name is Orla, not Little One. I hail from Absalom. And you are from the River Kingdoms, correct, Gabros?"
Her tone doesn't seem frosty in correcting the commonly-used derogatory term for halflings, but rather, matter-of-fact.
Orla then smiles at the dwarf's familiar greeting of the goblin, Inzo.
"I hope to be of use to you fellows," she titters, "especially if you start wrestling with one another and need some bandages before our meeting with the bosses."
At this point, the gnome re-surfaces.
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Orla watches the action between the goblins and the dog with amusement. She catches Inzo's eye to see how he's holding up, happy to see nary a line of worry on the goblin's face. Once in the venture-captain's office, Orla pays rapt attention to the briefing.
Orla keeps her inward reaction to the thought of another boat trip well-hidden from view, but at Bert's words, the halfling shoots the native dwarf a sympathetic glance. She listens to her comrades, trying to absorb what she can.
I may need to purchase some stomach-soother for another boat trip. The dwarf may want some as well.
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“So where do you call home little one?”"My name is Orla, not Little One. I hail from Absalom. And you are from the River Kingdoms, correct, Gabros?"
Her tone doesn't seem frosty in correcting the commonly-used derogatory term for halflings, but rather, matter-of-fact.
”My apologies. says Gabros with a practiced disarming and charming smile.
“Not quite correct Orla, Brevoy is to the north of the River Kingdoms and is a single functional sovereign state as opposed to the mess of warlords and little kings in the River Kingdoms.|
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"I hope to be of use to you fellows," she titters, "especially if you start wrestling with one another and need some bandages before our meeting with the bosses."
"That's generous of yeh, Orla. Won't need 'em now, but later - if we have to hike - Inzo likes to play a game to pass the time involvin' my beard, his throwin' stabby things, and as great a distance as the wee little bastard can manage."
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Responding to Bert's introduction:
"Aye! Well after you left, I realised there weren't many lads who had anything worthwhile to say. You said the society would pay better, and be more interesting. Well, I'm not paid yet, but free accomodation on a boat's better than none."
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Responding to Gabros/Bert's discussion on lordship and Gabros' background:
Inzo wanted to get way from politics, and here he was in the middle of another discussion. This conversation was different though. This was interesting. "So you're sayin' that where you're from Gabros, lords get off their arse and fight?" Inzo's face whirs as if in a quick contemplation. "What you gotta do to become a lord up dere?"
Responding to Orla/Bert bandages convo:
Inzo throws up is arms in defense. "It's only come to blood once, and that was yer fault. You moved!" How was I to know that after 20 minutes of starting intently at yer ale like it was yer lover, that it was time to drink. You should warn me if yer gonna move. Then Orla can keep her bandages."
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Gabros starts slightly at Inzo's question. "Well you see Brevoy is actually a little odd as political systems go as there is in fact two groups of 'Lords' I am a member of one of the noble houses which is why I use the honourific 'Lord' but completely independent of that I have taken the swordpact and learnt the guarded skills of the Swordlords who are a separate group and they do as you say 'get off their arse and fight'. Terrifyingly well I must say, they are near impossible to hit behind their whirling blade and the gods protect you if you leave them an opening, because nothing else can. Becoming a full swordlord is a long a difficult process culminating in a ritual duel with a fully fledged and experienced member which is not an insignificant undertaking. Becoming a 'Lord' in the manner of the noble families is typically a matter of birth though adoption is not unheard of."
This lecture is delivered in an almost fatherly fashion, clearly seeking to educate and bestow knowledge.
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"So you're sayin' there are lordy lords, and fighting lords? One's got skill and the otha money." Inzo muses.
After a pause he asks "Can you be both? An honourific Swordlord if you will. Then you got money and the slicey dicey. Either way, I like your style. If you join the society you must be part fighting lord, and that makes you alright with me."
Inzo can be confrontational due to spending a lot of time with the working class in lumber camps, but he is good natured with his questions.
Bjersig smiles apologetically at Orla and Bert. My apologies, but I'm afraid another sea voyage will be necessary. I understand your hesitation, and loathe as I am to send you off again so soon, there's no other way around it.
He then turns to Inzo, surprised at his knowledge before turning to Gabros and nodding, "I'm glad to see you do know about our culture, well, the point being is that Grehunde the Sunchaser never got to sail off to Valenhall —she died in what she planned to be her last battle. Her gorget was passed down to her descendants, most recently Hlavard Grenskuldr, also a Linnorm King. Hlavard was an impressive warrior in his youth, but a month ago he sailed off toward Valenhall to set up a shrine to Grehunde there and finish her journey. He planned to ensure the gorget found its final home in a place of honor".
At this point in the story, Mahki yawns and lies down next to Bjersig, lets out a huff at Inzo and waves his tail at Bert.
"Unfortunately, something happened to his ship, the Shoreseeker, along the way. Merchants report that the ship is still partially above water, but they didn’t get close enough to find out what happened. While his children respected Hlavard’s decision, they would rather not have their father’s body and the priceless family heirloom at the bottom of the sea. I’d like you to find the ship and retrieve Hlavard and the gorget. I’ve arranged a ship for you, the Wandering Hearth, to follow the Shoreseeker’s path through the Steaming Sea.”
"The market here is not much, but if you need anything, you'd best get it quickly before your trip. The ship leaves in two hours."
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Kutu had silently been stewing ever since the temperature started to drop on the boat ride over.
"Of course my first blasted society mission would be some land that doesn't have enough sun to keep my bones warm," he thought.
Though he was miserable he begrudgingly smiled and nodded politely to all of his fellow society members that he came across on the ship. Even while landing and meeting their contact he remained silent though polite. Kutu thought if he was quiet and concentrated he could generate his own heat.
He finally realized the futility of trying to generate his own heat and decided to join in on the introductions.
"Sorry for the rudeness. I am still trying to adjust to the coldness of this land. I am Kutu of the Rain-Kin tribe in the Mwangi Jungle. I look forward to working with you all."
"AH the Steaming Sea! Maybe we will finally get some warmth."
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"Huh. So it *IS* britches we're looking for. Linnormly britches. Well, we best be ready to get wet.
"So what's the ocean like? I stick inland. More trees there. If only flippers weren't so expensive I'd get some myself. 50 silver, what a rip!"
Inzo eyes up Kutu who has been silent this whole time "I didn't see you dere! I thought you were just a lackey if I'm honest. What's your thing? We got a fighting lord, we got me ol' pal Bert, and Dr. Orla over there. Do you have a speciali'y?"
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Search and salvage, not something I've had much experience with but it does sound reasonably straight forward
"Ah, pleasure to make your acquaintance Kutu. Unfortunately I must greet you with disappointment, the Streaming Sea is so named for its misty nature. While there is volcanic activity I doubt there is much actual warmth from the waters.
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"Huh. So it *IS* britches we're looking for. Linnormly britches. Well, we best be ready to get wet.
"Mate you're thinkin' something different. Gorget's a throat-stabby-blocker piece of armor. Unless you're meanin' Hlavard an' his britches too."
Bert's face - what little can be seen through his expansive ginger beard and tugged-down beanie - pales significantly.
"The Steamin' Sea? Was bad enough gettin' here by boat, now we gotta go further out? All sorts of manner of terrible could happen to us out there!"
He counts off threats on his fingers: "Sharks chewin' your legs off, sea drakes dragging you underwater, kraken bein' all kraken-like and shreddin' your boat into so much sawdust, sea serpents bein'... ah, and that's just the dim ones!"
"I heard tales too of smart-thinkin' things that dwell in those waters. Merfolks lurin' sailors to their deaths, elves that live underwater - so unnatural - and worst of all: those sahua...things, ones with the webbed hands and feet like the worst of a man and a fish in one, an' enough appetite to eat a full dwarf beard 'n' all."
His terrified rant over, Bert stumbles to a nearby surface to lean on - a desk, a chair, Inzo's head - whatever comes to hand, as he mutters: "I need a drink, no, two, no, three. Maybe if I'm too full o' booze they won't eat me."
Orla easily finds an alchemist shop. It's a well-lit shop, with large triangular open windows that let the sun come in and the smells go out. Regardless, there lingers a rather peculiar odour of burnt hair. Thankfully, it's not a strong smell. A gnome with bushy golden-coloured eyebrows looks up expectantly, a thin long beard and mustache marred by burnt tips.
"Don't mind the beard. I've just discovered that keeping it singed helps with staying focused when brewing explosives. Nothing like a little pressure to keep your mind on not messing up!", he says with a distant smile. "So, what can I get you?"
Meanwhile, at the docks, a middle-aged ulfen woman supervises with a stern eye sailors and cargo workers loading up her trading ship. Painted on the bow, the words Wandering Hearth can be made out.
"Careful there, lads! You secure that cargo tight or we'll be rocking and rolling in the waves like a cork! And you'd better have not taken any shortcuts with those knots, gods curse you!", she snarls before stomping off.
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"Mate you're thinkin' something different. Gorget's a throat-stabby-blocker piece of armor. Unless you're meanin' Hlavard an' his britches too."
Inzo rolls his eyes back at Bert. "It's creative license. Never let facts get in the way of a good story. FINE. We'll call it a Gorgoet"
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"I need a drink, no, two, no, three. Maybe if I'm too full o' booze they won't eat me."
Inzo's teeth come in full view now, as he knows he's in good company for his first adventure. "If you drink four then you'll float. At least that's what happens to me in the hot pools!"
The goblin then turns serious, slightly too quickly to be natural, and addresses the sailors
"So you'll let me know when we're close, and I've gotta start lookin' for this wreck, right?" It's clear Inzo wants to make a good impression on his inaugural mission for the Horizon Hunters.
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"If you drink four then you'll float. At least that's what happens to me in the hot pools!"
"You may be tiny, but your mind contains some big thoughts, mate. You're right: if I drink enough all those creatures'll just see me as part of the sea right? Or maybe I'll be too unhealthy for them to eat."
Bert stands up straight, bangs on his breastplate: "A drink on me, come on now. M'lord? Orla? An' you Kutu, drink'll warm you right up or make you forget that it's cold at least."
He offers a salute to the Venture Captain, nods to his hound, and totters on shaky legs from the room.
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Orla smiles at Bert, but shakes her head.
"I appreciate the offer, but I'm off to do some last-minute shopping before we hit the decks. Literally."
With a giggle, she heads out to shop.
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An hour later, Orla sighs heavily as she considers the Wandering Hearth.
Here goes something, I hope.
"Inzo! Bert! Did you toast me with one of your drinks, at least?" the halfling calls out as she spies her colleagues already onboard the ship. "Permission to come aboard?" she cries to the female captain.
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With a bow to the Venture-Captain and a slight smile as being adresses as 'M'lord?' by Bert Gabros makes his leave.
Gabros redresses into the well tailored winter clothes he worn on the walk from the docks and accompanies Bert and Inzo to the tavern. Insisting on buying the second round
He orders a bottle of wine for himself of standard quality I do hope this Pathfinder does indeed offer the financial benefits Petra suggested. I would prefer a finer wine but it would be far too frivolous. and offers his companions wine or ale as they choose. If the first mugs were drunk quickly and it seems more will be required he buys two mugs each for any thirsty friends. Gabros tips the server 3 copper pieces.
---
When the party regroups at the docks Gabros collects his gear and arms himself not only with the rapier he has being carrying but with a longbow and shortsword also.
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Kutu found Inzo very amusing. He found the general enthusiasm of Goblins a lot more likable than the general dourness of Orcs.
Some would say my ability to be unnoticed would be part of my specialty. I've been told by many northerners that I am what they call a "jack of all trades". I like to say that I do well at being unseen and if that doesn't work I can be quite convincing, AND if that doesn't work I have no problem using my blade to solve problems"
Kutu takes Orla up on her offer and also goes shopping. Kutu is very appreciative of her and how easy it seems for her to be kind. He also buys alchemist fire. Then shivering he turns to the gnome and halfling and pleads,
"If you don't mind could you advise me on the proper winter clothes to purchase."
Kutu spends the 3gp and 4sp and walks back with Orla.
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Some would say my ability to be unnoticed would be part of my specialty. I've been told by many northerners that I am what they call a "jack of all trades". I like to say that I do well at being unseen and if that doesn't work I can be quite convincing, AND if that doesn't work I have no problem using my blade to solve problems"
Gabros gives Kutu an approving nod at this comment "That is pleasing to hear, a variety of talents in one person helps us all meet the needs of any a wider range of situations. I look forward to seeing you in action."
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Gabros returns the bow
” Thank you for your praise. I am sorry to say I cannot teach they techniques of the swordlord a to any who have not sworn the sword pact. But once I have got my arm in once more I would be honoured to give you some tutelage in bladecraft in general if you do not wish to swear such dedication. equally I am sure you have much advice to offer me. Learning from one another aids the growth of each and every individual and as such makes us stronger as a unit.”
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He orders a bottle of wine for himself of standard quality...and offers his companions wine or ale as they choose.
"So generous of yeh, though if I may impart some local wisdom: wine around here is like..." he fidgets with his ale mug, suddenly uncomfortable: "I'll spare yeh the description, let's just say you might want to blow out the candles or apply some make-up 'fore you do the deed."
He nods towards a covered pot hung by a cookfire: "Bit of honey for sweetness, an' plenty of herbs 'n' spices to hide the blemishes. An' it's warm. Mulled wine'll do you right."
To pass the time he rambles about old tales working with Inzo felling trees, hauling lumber, and generally making a life in the village he grew up in.
"I'll go back there one day, once I'm proper wealthy. Maybe have myself a lordly title. That'll shield me from the heapin' earful I'll get for leavin' in the first place." He scratches his beard in thought, before eyeing Gabros up once more: "How'd you get yours? Your bloodline carry the blessin' of riches, or you acquire it by other means?"
Bert spies Orla's approach, and waves an empty mug at her from his position at the railing. "I brought yeh one but it didn't survive the dangerous journey. Your restorative powers don't extend to empty vessels now do they?"
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He nods towards a covered pot hung by a cookfire: "Bit of honey for sweetness, an' plenty of herbs 'n' spices to hide the blemishes. An' it's warm. Mulled wine'll do you right."
Gabros tries the Mulled wine and nods approvingly. ”I remember having this on cold winter nights when I was young.” A wistful smile crosses his face and he stares off into the distance for a moment, gazing in the past.
”By the standards of those around me at the time the wealth bestowed on me by my family was meagre as I was a younger son of an more minor member of the family. But as I grew older and became aware of the world as it truly is outside of the self absorbed and insulated walls of nobles court I did indeed realise I was blessed. Never the less I sought to earn my way in the world though tutoring, the occasional diplomatic mission, and most fulfillingly I helped raise my niece.” Not that that went to plan
”Beware though my friend, a lordly title does not protect one from problems. It merely replaces the old ones with new, different concerns and complications. There’s a reason I’m not hurrying back.”
Gabros smiles at the exchange between Bert and Orla Who knew, this might not just be something to do with myself. It might actually be fun.
The Wandering Hearth is a small trading vessel that's seen better days, but at least to your ship weary eye, isn't any worse for wear than the other ships you've travelled on. A tall, middle-aged ulfen woman waits by the gangplank.
"Ah, welcome, welcome! Get on board! Took you long enough. We've other things to do besides ferrying Pathfinders onto the Steaming Sea for the good of our skin. Name's Eynilla Vriggdahl, You'll address me as Captain aboard my ship." She points at Bert and Inzo. She takes a whiff of air as they get on board. "If that's booze, stay out of trouble or if you give any to my men I'll toss you overboard, pathfinders be damned. This isn't a travel barge."
Some thirty minutes later, Orla, Kutu and Gabros arrive at the docks.
She nods curtly to Orla's request, "Seems like this one has manners. Allow me to return them. Permission granted, miss. The rest of you useless sops can stop gawking and get on board! I have a schedule to keep to and can't be babysitting the lot of you. Stay below deck or above deck, just stay out of our way. The route we're taking is far from safe and we'd best be ready for anything."
Captain Vriggdahl wasn't joking; a few days later as the Wandering Hearth journeys through the Steaming Sea, a storm strikes. Huge waves buffet the ship and the growing sensation that you may capsize becomes too real. Rain makes everything slippery and the crew desperately keep the ship upright, suffering injuries in the process, but the torrential rain and heavy waves are relentless, battering everything on board.
"DON'T JUST STAND THERE!", Captain Vriggdahl screams at you to make herself heard above the storm. As she says this, a coil of rope tumbles down the rigging, pieces of wood slamming themselves against the deck. "DESNA SAVE US! WE LOST THE SHROUD!", one of the sailors yells as a wave hits port, the ship listing to starboard. "CARGO IS UNSECURE, CAPTAIN AND WE NEED TO TIE IT DOWN FAST OR WE'LL BE SUNK!"
"GET SOMEONE ON IT", Captain Vriggdahl responds, "I NEED TO TAKE THE WHEEL! SOMEONE CHECK THE COMPASS!"
The ship tilts dangerously as it rides the next wave.