The Mwangi Expanse is ruled not by men, but by demons and the hideous denizens of the spirit world. Mortal men brave the jungle’s depths at their peril, and often at the cost of their soul. In the Mwangi’s dark heart monsters grovel at the feet of obscene idols, and pledge themselves to hideous otherworldly masters with strange appetites and even darker dreams. None of these savage hearts beats more fiercely than Angazhan, Demon Lord of Apes. His black-furred hand holds sway over the Gorilla King and his city of Usaro. All the jungle trembles at his blood-curdling roar.
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The Pathfinders are gathered in the waiting room outside Venture-Captain Adril Hestram’s office.
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Half sprawled over an arm chair that seems too small to contain her is an impressively built Kellid woman with a strongly hooked nose. Her tall, muscular frame is posed to casually convey a self-confidence and strength, though a perceptive observer may notice the self doubt that occasionally shows through her expression. With one of her feet she casually rubs the belly of an oversized wolverine, who playfully gnaws at her boot. In her hands, she toys with a warhammer, rubbing it like a worry stone. The glint of mithral peeks out from under her leather tunic, and a wooden shield and short bow are leaned against the wall near her.
The door opens abruptly. Not quite thrown open, but clearly in the g*+ d#!n way of someone not in the mood for it.
A tall man, thick with muscle prowls into the room. Despite it being mid-morning, the redness in his eyes and the three waterskins slung over his back suggest irresponsible choices were made the night before. Falling into the nearest chair, like a king on his throne after a long day of dealing with peasants, he sticks the spout of a waterskin into his mouth and begins to suck it dry.
"What's your deal- eh, kid? You some sorta- animal trainer?" he mumbles out between gulps. Impressively, or perhaps sadly, he certainly has a lot of practice with this little maneuver, judging on the fact that not a single drop of water goes to waste.
He throws the drained skin to the floor and continues on the next. Shockingly, if a little disturbingly, the redness in his eyes noticeably begins to abate. Anyone paying attention to his hands notice that he has a patch of blue scales around his knuckles that taper down to his wrists before disappearing entirely.
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Blondhaired, slim human male wearing leather armor and holding a tankard of ale in other hand enters the room. He carries a musket and a flail.
I commissioned this pic from our local VA
Taking a sip from tankard, he smiles to the woman "Greetings, nice dog you have there. Or is it a skunk or what? Even though I can get along in woods, don't know much about animals." he winks
He opens his mouth, but before he manages to respond, another guest arrives. "Perfect- put the- ale down on this- and shove off. Bartender said- I could start- a tab," he orders between gulps from his second waterskin. Weird service here, never seen a waiter drink from a customer's ale before. Damn Absalomies and their odd customs.
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Salvius enters the waiting room, meekly opening the door and entering quietly. He wears a two-piece suit that's very formal, but his freckled face is topped with a messy bunch of hair. His eyes seemingly someplace else, he sits in a chair absent-mindedly and adjusts his position.
He starts reading and blurbs out a-"G'morning, colleagues."-before continuing the reading of his spellbook. His demeanor and aloof look continues for 2 straight minutes, but that all changes once he notices Stinky underneath Kala.
Like a kid running for a christmas present underneath the tree, Salvius' eyes immediately light up and he smiles, plopping down on the ground right besides Stinky. He starts rambling-"A Wolverine from the Realm of the Mammoth Lords! And a especially beautiful one at that! Dear oh dear, I might have something just for you!"-he says while clambering on all fours towards his briefcase.
He frantically searches for something before taking it out, leaving his briefcase open and revealing the different bugs, branches and scraps of parchment inside. He approaches Stinky with a piece of dried meat, saying-"Here you go friend, a smoked rib with honey"-but before he gives it to them, Salvius looks up at Kala and with a smile asks-"May I?"
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A short and stocky, stocky even for a dwarf, dwarf enters the room and sits down.
He has a large mane of a ginger beard and ginger hair. While he initially looks unkempt, on closer inspection his hair is lightly styled and managed. So it appears that his mane is a choice. He is completely unclothed apart from a pair of shorts that come down to his mid thigh. Attached to the side of his rucksack is a long bladed spear. He is covered in scars and even though some of them look bad, obviously none of them were lethal.
Dalgur listens to the human and nods.
On his final waterskin, he just rests his head against the headrest of his chair and guzzles the water down. The redness in his eyes has completely faded now. He looks over at the blonde man. Well that's awkward for him. Guess he isn't the waiter. Shame. It'd be better if he was.
With a groan, he stands up and approaches the Dwarf. Arrogance and partially deserved self-confidence practically drip off of his stance. "A fellow man of the good life, I see. Where are you from, Dwarf? What's your name?"
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Watergreen is a tall, slender elf woman who wears what looks like her undergarments! . On top she has a scrap of green cloth that is tied around her waist like a skirt. She wears sandals on her feet, and has a backpack over one shoulder. Her hair is long and blonde, and she wears a braided knot of purple flowers and vines in her hair like a crown. She is tanned from the sun, and she smells like she's been swimming at the beach.
On the top of her hand is a tiny green frog. She just sits there. Sticking to her. The frog licks its eye.
The elf smiles at the others. "I am known as Watergreen." She holds out her hand to show off her frog. "And this is Lilith."
Watergreen looks at her frog. "Okay, okay. I know! Ribbit ribbit! Yes, yes. But, it's my job!"
Watergreen looks up from her frog and smiles at the others. "She's worried about the wolverine. Might eat her, you know. She wouldn't like that."
The frog croaks, then starts to creep it's way up her arm.
Looking at the dwarf in just shorts, she smiles. "I love to swim. Do you like to swim, too? Or is it just hot in here?"
"Ah, I see. Dalgur from the land of Dalgur," the man says, nodding his head with raised eyebrows before turning to someone, anyone else.
Catching sight of Watergreen, he rubs his eyes with both hands. I should have stopped celebrating when Papel said to. "And you, Watergreen, also talk to animals? All animals, or just frogs?" Where do they find these people? Quite different than the other lot I was with in Irrisen.
Taking a seat again, he addresses Salvius. "I am the Thundering Dragonkiller. It's a name and a title all at once. You all will catch on soon enough, I'm sure. Most recently, I've come from Irrisen, where I struck down a White Dragon with flaming fists," he says proudly. "What about yourself?"
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Salvius blushes as the Suli addresses him-"Well, Mr. Thundering Dragonkiller, I'm not one to have done much. You know, missions and errands to climb the ranks! Hehe"-he laughs.
As if an idea popped into his head, he clambers towards his suitcase and after sifting through, pulls out a rotten looking branch which pulses with negative energy, encased in a glass jar-"I fought in the battle against Eshimka, lieutenant of Tar-Baphon. Whilst some bigger warriors were the ones to enter the Negative Energy Plane and fight her, I myself stayed with a group of Pathfinders to secure the forest of Fangwood, blighted by Eshimka's influence. I helped enlist treants and silver dragons to retaliate against the lich's forces. Words carry a lot of weight in the right circumstances!"-he says, without making much eye contact, clearly focused on the branch.
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With a disturbed shudder, Kala deliberately looks away from the creepy branch in a jar. She bends low over Stinky, holding his face to point it directly at Lilith. "Stinky. No eat frog. No." Straightening, she nods briskly at Watergreen. "That should do it. Anyway, I've never seen him eat a frog before. I'm Kala." She'd freeze in no time up north...
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Watergreen smiles. "Whew! Thanks. I don't want your badger to eat my froggy."
Hearing all this talk of Irrisen, Watergreen shivers. "Irrisen? Sounds cold. My last mission was someplace cold. Iobaria. I had to put on a fur cloak and boots and everything. I don't want to go up north again anytime soon."
"It was cold, but nowhere near as cold as the Dragon's breath!" TD claims proudly. "The whole room was frozen, the very ground we churned in the madness of battle was iced over," he continues, "but I won't bore you with the details," he abruptly ends clearly hoping someone bites. All this travel makes it hard to build up a reputation! I'll have to make sure everyone knows of me, wherever we go, until the story of my greatness tells itself!
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"Sounds horrible," Watergreen replies. She strides into the room, kneels on the ground, and holds out a hand to the badger. If it allows her to, she scratches him behind the ears.
Lilith jumps down into Watergreen's belt pouch to hide. Flicks her sticky tongue at the cover, and pulls the pouch shut with her tongue.
Watergreen smiles.
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Stinky sniffs at the hand offered to him. Any meat in there? No? Just that slimy frog. Which, to be clear, I'm not gonna eat, 'cause Kala said so. I've eaten frogs before; they tasted okay. Honestly, though, they're small and too hard to catch to be worth it. Oooooohhhhh! Yeaaaaaahhhh... Keep scratching! Ohhhh yeahhhhh... He leans in to Watergreen's scratches, one back leg thumping the floor vigorously in rapture.
The Blakros Museum rises into the night sky, its single black spire severing the full moon in twain. The black iron gates surrounding the exhibition hall grind in protest against the wind. Beyond, the museum’s large oaken doors stand wide open, a silver-gray mist belching forth from the cavernous darkness within. You wonder how you ended up here, standing at the precipice of unknown terrors, and instantly Venture Captain Adril Hestram’s wide looming face is conjured into your minds’ eye.
His booming words ring out from memory as clearly as he spoke them only one hour ago: “The Blakros Museum is cursed. Some darkness has descended upon the place and those who enter are blasted with evil and left raving through its halls, more beast than men. The curator, Nigel Aldain, is an old associate of the Society, though he chose to leave our organization some years back after a disagreement.” Adril looked sheepish then, as if remembering some distasteful incident from his youth.
“Nigel has long denied the Society access to the Blakros Museum’s considerable collection of relics and scrolls, using his extensive contacts to nab several excellent finds right out from under us... he always had a nose for the hunt. Whatever is past between Nigel and the Society, he needs our help now. Perhaps if we can come to his aid, he may think on rejoining the Pathfinder Society, or at least offering to share his discoveries with us.”
“Apparently the trouble at Blakros Museum began this morning, shortly after a wayward Pathfinder named Lugizar Trantos returned to Absalom after months spent in the Mwangi Expanse. Supposedly, instead of coming straight to the Lodge to report in, he went to Blakros, sold his finds to Nigel, and then disappeared with a hefty sum of gold. The few who glimpsed Lugizar claimed he was much changed by his time in the Mwangi... gaunt, his eyes yellowed and unfocused, a strange rasping cough that seemed to wrack his now wasted frame. Whatever he brought back with him, we believe it is the cause of the Blakros Museum’s ills. Root it out.”
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Wait, I'm confused. He talks like the museum's been cursed for a long time, but then he says the trouble started this morning. What...? It takes a few moments for the cogs in Kala's mind to churn through to figure out that she misinterpreted the initial part of the briefing. Oooookay. I got it now. But wait... Kala's eyes flick around at the others in the room, hoping one of them will speak first. When no one jumps to it, her breathing quickens as she screws up her courage. "Uh, so... The curse. I assume it'll affect us too, so... Any idea about how to stop that? I mean, it seems we'd have a hard time completing our mission if it gets us, you know..."
"The Blakros Museum seems to be perpetually cursed. Unfortunately," Hestram replied, "This time it seems to be different. We don't know what caused this problem. Usually it's a cursed item. Keep your wits about you."
"Seems simple to me," Thundeirng Dragonkiller boasts. "Root it out, whatever's causing this mess," he reiterates without sarcasm, shrugging. "Let's get a move on then!"
"So, Watergreen, right? You're one of those Wizard types, yeah? Think you could use this on me? I've got another, but I've got to be the one to use it," he explains a little awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable asking for help. I'll master that thing one day! So embarrassing needing someone else to protect me. Ugh.
A moment before sending the door open, he taps himself with a wand confidently. When a translucent shield materializes and begins orbiting him, he flicker of relief passes across his face. Ha! All in the wrist!
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Salvius' easy-going nature shifts as the Mwangi Expanse is mentioned, clearly hitting close to home. His expression sours as he says-"No good future awaits to those who rob the Mwangi. The professors at the Academy and the oracles of Nantambu advised against meddling with forces of nature."- he says fiddling with his wand and standing straight.
He adjusts the amulet in his neck, representing a 10-pointed star surrounded with leafs, the symbol of the Magaambyan Academy. With a determined expression he adds-"We need to root out this curse, and right the wrong that was made."
"What are we expected to fight?"
demon who grunts prophecies of blood to apes and madmen. The jungle is his beating heart.
was founded hundreds of years past by cultists who bowed to Angazhan.
It is said they captured the souls of monkeys in the wood-grains of strange idols called Tik Taan. The monkeys’ tormented spirits became the slaves and playthings of Angazhan, who murdered their playful whims and replaced them with a deep-seated hate and wild madness. These Tik Taan are rumored to shred the sanity of anyone who spends too long in their presence.
"Do we know which items Trantos sold to the museum?"
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Salvius pulls out some notes from his briefcase, having studied Mwangi legends and tribes. With a flourish, he turns one of his notebooks to a page depicting a strange symbol-"I've heard of such mind-controlling effects in the Academy - the work of worshippers of Angazhan, The Ravenous King."-he says showing the symbol to everyone.
He then turns the next page, showing arcane notes around a wooden idol-"They carved these idols, and bound the souls of monkeys and apes into them, where they were tormented by Angazhan and driven mad, to the point of being demon-like... Tik Taan, is what the professor called these idols. It is said they exude some deadly mist that drives one mad."-before turning to the next and final page.
On it, a pair of Mwangi tribal hunters are drawn expertly, holding ritual blades and bandanas over their mouths-"The tribe of Jambala Jaeg vowed to eradicate the cultists of Angazhan, and destroy the Tik Taan. Here, they are shown using obsidian blades with bone handles to put the demons to rest, and protecting themselves from the mist with simple bandanas over their mouths."-he says mimicking that same look with his cloak.
Looking around comically, like a spy he whispers-"Maybe that Lugizar brought back with him a Tik Taan!"-raising his voice for dramatic effect.
Thundering Dragonkiller paces back and forth like a tiger in a cage while the others talk at each other about what they know. Bah! This could all be done while we are on the move! Idle chatter, the bane of every good fight!
By the gods, no more late nights before a mission. He pivots from Watergreen to Salvius, offering his wand. "One for you, one for me?" he offers. Looking around, he waves his hands in dismissal. "Actually, how about one for everyone? The animal too!" he says grandly, raising his arms in welcome.
Once magical provisions have been sorted, he recalls Salvius' words about bandannas and covers his own mouth with a cloth.
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Kala listens to the deluge of information from her teammates with a mildly dumbfounded expression.Wha...? How do they know so much?
At the mention of bandannas, Kala immediately fishes around in her handy haversack to see what she has that could suffice. "Ah!" Pulling out a thick scarf that might have been white at one time, she hangs it around her neck for now, clearly satisfied.
"Actually, how about one for everyone? The animal too!"
"Uh, thanks! I don't really need it, but Stinky does. I meant to find him some special armor, but...I ran out of time." Kala's genuine gratitude is quickly overshadowed by a feeling of inadequacy. It's a pity; for the brief moment when her face lit up she almost looked beautiful. Now, however, her brows are fixed in their normal kinda-anxious position, and the corners of her lips curve ever so slightly downward as if embodying the stern disappointment that her deceased family cannot give. Excuses! Always useless excuses! Is that her own thought, or an echo of her grandmother?
Flash back forward to the outside of the museum. Any other preparations, or are you ready to move in?
"Yeeeeaaah, that's the stuff!" Thundering Dragonkiller says, groaning with relief as the familiar feeling of force-armor solidifies around his body. Watching most everyone accept similar protection, he looks on, obviously pleased. I'm so generous!
Taking his wand back, he looks at it closely, clearly for the first time. "Uh, yeah, Kellish Darkwood..." he echoes before mimicking the bend Salvius performed on the wand. It's a wand, who cares what it's made of? Who knows that much about wood anyways?
Rolling his shoulders, he takes a battle ready position. "Let's get this going, I've more glory to take!" he challenges, seemingly the whole museum. Nothing will stand before me! Not the bricks, the walls, nor anything else in there!
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An unnatural cold permeates this chamber and the tendrils of silver-gray mist flowing out the front archway into the courtyard beyond seem to effortlessly pierce the flesh and gently caress the bone in a cold embrace. The grand entranceway’s vaulted ceiling is supported by six great pillars of hewn black stone. Braziers mounted on the pillars cast white radiance from balls of continual light. The light glimmers eerily in the silvery haze that fills the atrium, giving the impression of something alien watching from the glowing fog.