Long ago, the Ulfen known as Balgird Bluetongue set out from Kalsgard, traveling deep into the forbidding tundra and muskeg of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings in search
of fortune, honor, and the head of a linnorm. For two months, Balgird braved the elements, crossing craggy glaciers, defending himself against monstrous trolls, fording frozen rivers, and foraging for the barest meals until he found, tracked, and slew a mighty tarn linnorm and returned with its twin heads in tow.
Though Bluetongue himself was slain in Irrisen protecting the Djurstor Confederacy against Baba Yaga in 3313 AR, his body was not properly buried until it was recovered by Ulfen raiders two centuries later. Laid
to rest in Kalsgard, the city held an overland race to commemorate the deeds of their fallen hero; and so, the Balgirdtrek was born.
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Towering at 6 ft 4 inches, Jaeli has a lithe frame and waist-length white hair with lavender highlights. On each of her cheeks is a tattoo, one a star and one a moon, in a blue matching her eyes. The rest of her clothing, suited for exploring but tailored to what's in fashion in Absalom, follows the same general color scheme. With a butterfly necklace at her neck, a harp at her right hip and a starknife at her left, her devotion to Desna is all too obvious.
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A goblin as the name implies with a flute and a scarf on his neck he is from the keep showing desert region and his mother died with helping some strangers and after learning he has occult magic trough a school play adution now works for the pathfinder society as a supporting adventure ing party’s with his soothing song and many many magic missiles and is looking to make his father proud also he vary much likes to eat trash.
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Sejon is a tall, broad shouldered man showing mixed signs of Tian and Chelish ancestry. His black hair is forever uncombed and just the wrong side of stylishly wild. He dresses in the boldest blues and reds he can find. His chain mail is as polished and gleaming as he can make it. He carries an exotic curved sword and a strange looking lute like instrument. His smile is quick and easy but his gray eyes sometimes seem focused in the wrong place and he tends to either avoid eye contact or hold it far too long.
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Peregrine stands 2'9" and has a slender build. He has electric blue eyes and tanned skin. He has sandy blond hair that he keeps trimmed short along with a beard strap which comes up into a mustache. He is dressed in a dark blue traveling suit under an overcoat. Due to the climate he is wearing a nice pair of boots, but he doesn't look very comfortable in them.
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A 3' tall Halfling with reddish brown hair and green eyes, dressed in fine black and green clothing with ruffles at the collar and cuffs, wearing a suede black Cavaliers hat (Think 3 Musketeers hat) with a large white feather protruding and a rapier belted at his waist strolls up at the mention of a game. "Care for another to join? Are there any wagers or just friendly?" He asks with a grin.
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"Wagers are the height of friendship!"" Sejon exclaims. "But we needn't bet gold. We can bet something more interesting."
Sejon thinks for a moment.
"Tell you what. If you win a hand you win one 'rooster.' Anytime during the mission you can just say 'rooster' and the loosing hands at the table have to crow like a rooster."
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"Wagers are the height of friendship!"" Sejon exclaims. "But we needn't bet gold. We can bet something more interesting."
Sejon thinks for a moment.
"Tell you what. If you win a hand you win one 'rooster.' Anytime during the mission you can just say 'rooster' and the loosing hands at the table have to crow like a rooster."
works for me I think it will add some flare to this mission raises mug with cheer
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"Capital!" Sejon slaps his dice down on the table with a little too much enthusiasm, imperiling any drinks that may be on it's surface.
"How about we play 21? It's simple. You want to get 21 points. We go around the table rolling two dice and adding to our totals until you decide close enough, and then you stand. You get exactly 21 you win right there, you go over you lose. You hit sixteen or above and you can choose to roll one die instead of two."
"I'll start." Sejon tosses the dice across the table.
"That's 10 for me"
"Seventeen! I could stop here, but why stop when you can forge ahead, eh? now I can roll a single die"
"Six!" Rage fills Sejons countenance. "Surely I am the most cursed of all Hei Feng's misbegotten flotsam!
He slaps the table and then laughs. "Haha! So a rooster I shall be! Who's next?"
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Sejon nods as Gibble stands. "Wisely played my friend!"
Watching Mylow roll Sejon lets out a massive snort of indignation.
"Why must favor forever smile elsewhere!"
He shakes his head.
"Very well that's 1 rooster to Mylow, being first to 21. Anyone for another round? How about someone else starts us off?"
Sejon slides the dice over to Peregrine.
"Our friend here shut you out with his 21. Care for a chance to return the favor?"
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Sejon nods as Gibble stands. "Wisely played my friend!"
Watching Mylow roll Sejon lets out a massive snort of indignation.
"Why must favor forever smile elsewhere!"
He shakes his head.
"Very well that's 1 rooster to Mylow, being first to 21. Anyone for another round? How about someone else starts us off?"
Sejon slides the dice over to Peregrine.
"Our friend here shut you out with his 21. Care for a chance to return the favor?"
I’m good I had my fill for today we need to get ready for this upcoming mission see you when we leave for the mission he yawns as he gets up and he waves before grabbing his bags and going up to his room. Before he goes he says make sure to not stay up too late and carry on the party for me wile I’m gone
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"I can't imagine a better way to prepare than to keep your mind sharp with a few games of chance, but suit yourselves. I'm not one to retire early, the storm blows until it's spent."
Sejon picks up his strange three-stringed lute and plucks out a tune. It's not clear if the instrument is in tune... , but he never the less manages to play a haunting tune fairly competently.
Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen approaches the dice game, waiting until he is certain he has the attention of everyone in attendance. “Thank you all for coming.” he signs, his words interpreted as necessary through Lirall, the gnome sitting beside him. “I expect your travel to Iceferry was safe, if a bit cold. I am very excited to have you all here for the upcoming event. I expect that you will find it an excellent test of your capabilities, and not one many Pathfinders will be able to
boast of.”
Bjersig draws a small bundle of scrolls and a journal from his bag and lays them on the table, allowing the contents to unfurl and spread across the tabletop. “This handful of documents is all the information the Society has collected on the Balgirdtrek up to this point. I doubt it’s something you’ve heard of unless you’re from the area. It is an overland race some 200 miles long, from Frostgarten in Icemark to Kalsgard, just over the river. It is performed each year, honoring the deeds of Balgird Bluetongue when he slew a tarn linnorm centuries ago, but this year’s race promises to be quite unique.”
“As you may know, the Varki have been the source of quite the commotion among the Ulfen lately, largely in positive ways. Their ranger, Nankou, slew a linnorm some time ago and has been officially recognized as a linnorm king. A new linnorm king is always newsworthy, but a Varki linnorm king is unprecedented. In recognition of Nankou and his diplomatic efforts between the Ulfen and Varki peoples, the officials have decided that the Balgirdtrek will be held in reverse this year. The Varki have always bristled a bit at some of the ideas inherent in the Balgirdtrek. Ulfen have often discussed it as a race from the ‘savage wilderness’ back into the arms of civilization, not something that has promoted constructive relationships between the two. It’s good that the officials seem to have broadened their horizons.”
“What’s more, there are two new teams joining the race this year. First, Nankou has hand-picked a group of Varki to compete. This is the first time Varki have competed in the race and from what I’ve heard, the Ulfen participants are excited to see what they bring to the competition. If you haven’t guessed by now, you all are the second new team. I’ve managed to secure your entry with the approval of the race officials. You can thank me later.” Bjersig smiles broadly.
He stands and places a sealed envelope and a small purse on the table. “There you’ll find your entry letter accompanied by my letter of introduction for you. The purse contains a few coins to help you purchase some gear. Once the race is over, you’ll also be compensated by the Society for your efforts. Expect a hefty bonus if you actually manage to win! There is a sleigh carrying the other teams to the starting area. It will stop here in Iceferry to pick you up in an hour, don’t be late. To be allowed to compete is a great honor, so please remember that you represent the best qualities of the Pathfinder Society at all times. Take notes, learn whatever you can from the other teams. The Balgirdtrek is supposed to be a friendly competition after all. If you have any questions, make them quick, otherwise good luck to you all. I don’t expect you to win, but I hope you’ll at least make a good show of it.”
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Rhiannon raises her hands and stands on her table to be better seen.
"What do you mean by race? A horse race? A sleigh race? Or a you have to run by your own feet race?
Do you have a map of the area, so that we know if we need climbing gear?
Is the route set or is only the start and finish set and you can use any route you want?"
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Mylow starts to go through the scrolls on the table and pipes up after Rhiannon's questioning, "So this is a 200 mile overland trek through savage wilderness, rivers, ice and snow. I take it will be over several days. Do you have any other info such as the rules of the race? From what I gather, there is us, a new Varki team, at least two Ulfen teams which makes a minimum of 4 teams. Do you know how many teams we are competing against? You also say it is supposed to be friendly. Has it not been in the past?" He thinks and tries to recall if he has heard any information he can on this race, the people and nations involved and anything on what a Linnorm is.
"Guess we should start making a list of gear we will need." He starts stating a list of some items. "Cold weather gear, snow googles, a balaclava, gloves and extra socks, snow shoes or even skis, climbing gear with pitons, a compass with additional maps. Hmmm, will we need a tent or will there be checkpoints?"
"What do you mean by race? A horse race? A sleigh race? Or a you have to run by your own feet race?
Do you have a map of the area, so that we know if we need climbing gear?
Is the route set or is only the start and finish set and you can use any route you want?"
"The Ulfen say that the race is lost on foot but won by the mind. You'll be traveling through the wilderness on your own, but you'll face challenges at every checkpoint where cleverness, rather tha brute force, will often prevail."
"The route is not set, but if you stray out of the designated boundaires, an official will reign you in. There is no extensive climbing or swimming, but you may face challenges involving swimming or climbing. We've given you a small purse for cold weather outfits, but climbing gear and the like would have to come out of your own pockets."
"Do you have any other info such as the rules of the race? From what I gather, there is us, a new Varki team, at least two Ulfen teams which makes a minimum of 4 teams. Do you know how many teams we are competing against? You also say it is supposed to be friendly. Has it not been in the past?"
"Will we need a tent or will there be checkpoints?"
"You'll be able to stay at the checkpoints. We've given you a small purse for cold weather clothing, but all the other specialized gear is up to you to purchase on your own dime."
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Jaeli has been watching the dice game from the sidelines with some interest, but hasn't spoken up yet. Bjersig and Lirall come into view, and she turns her attention towards them. Her eyes go wide and her expression brightens at the mention of a race.
"Really? That's incredible, thank you so much for the opportunity. I'll do my best." She turns to the rest of the group, smiling.
She nods at Mylow's suggestions in approval, before taking interest in the scrolls in case they contain relevant information they haven't covered yet.
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"A race!"" Sejon claps his hands together. "A race in the frigid north, land of the linnorms! This Pathfinder business is already paying off! We'll not let you down, or at the very least we'll do so in spectacular fashion!"
He listens to Mylow and Jaeli and shrugs. "I couldn't plan a picnic much less a race in these conditions. If you suggest we need this or that bit of kit I'm all for it."
When the conversation is over Sejon makes for the door whistling tunelessly.
Mylow doesn't remember anything about past winners.
How is the ground in this area. Do we need snow shoes... or skis?
The ground around here - and for what you can see, most of the trail - is packed, treaded snow. But other equipment can be useful deeper into the wilderness.
Peregrine has heard of ice linnorms. They are magical beasts that can see through invisibility. If you slay one, you permamently become weak to cold.
Two bright, open-topped sleighs wait along the side of the street, adorned with ribbons and cedar boughs. The driver of the second sleigh hops down, waving the group over. He instructs the team to move to the rear of the cart and assists with boarding. Inside, two groups sit, anxious for the sleighs to get moving. At the far end of the cart, several Ulfen rangers and a cleric glower, sighing before mumbling to one another.
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Sejon strolls up to the cart and addresses the first person from either group to catch his eye. "Well met fellow travelers. My name is Sejon, of the Shackles and a few more places besides. I count my self lucky to be among you! Not often has fate smiled so kindly on me as to bring me to so auspicious an occasion! You look a formidable bunch. Who do I have the honor of belaboring with my small talk?"
"I'll say we were just debating amongst ourselves whether it'd be better to take on a linnorm should one cross our path. I was for leaving the poor thing be but I fear my friends are a fierce lot."
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Peregrine pulls himself into the sleigh and says to the group Sejon hasn't talked to yet, "Good day to you all. Is this your first time competing in this race? I do hope it all goes well and I wish you all the best of luck!" He moves to the seat nearest them and stows his gear next to him, making sure that everything is secured while waiting to see if they respond.
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Not knowing the cost of the gear, Mylow picks up snow shoes, a pair of skis, snow goggles, a balaclava, some beef jerky and a compass. He loads all the gear onto the sleighs and takes a seat. He pulls out the jerky and offers it to some of the Ulfen. "Jerky anyone?"
Responding to Gibble, he asks, "Do you know River Flows in You or how about Moondance?"
"Is this your first time competing in this race?"
The Ulfen rangers elbow each other and give each other mocking glances.
what song would you like me to play I’m taking requests no fees required
One of the rangers speaks up. "Do you know how to play 'Halfling Stands on Goblin to See Over the Snowbank'? Har, har, har!"
"Jerky anyone?"
One of the rangers grabs the bag.
"They say you are what you eat, and we're real jerky! Har, har, har!"
He takes a bite out of one piece and then throws the half-eaten piece back into the bag. Then he bites another piece and puts that half-eaten piece in the bag. Then he spits the two pieces he chewed back into the bag.
"No thanks, I'm not hungry! Har, har, har!"
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Sejon continues to engage his group in conversation.
"So where do you hail from? Is this your first crack at the great race? How do you rate your chances?"
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Jaeli looks mildly concerned at the sight of that holy symbol, but keeps it to herself for now. Is this normal for the region, she wonders. Their opponents' reaction to the jerky also merits a raised eyebrow.
"Moondance is one of my favorites," Jaeli says, looking at her harp then deciding against it, for now at least. She remains mostly silent and tries to keep an impassible expression, but her companions can likely guess she isn't loving the atmosphere.
One of the other team's members listens with interest. He looks to be a bard ... or a skald.
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One of the rangers speaks up. "Do you know how to play 'Halfling Stands on Goblin to See Over the Snowbank'? Har, har, har!"
Mylow responds, Well at least we know how to work together as a team to win this. I doubt you have the resourcefulness."
One of the rangers grabs the bag.
"They say you are what you eat, and we're real jerky! Har, har, har!"
Mylow takes the bag back, "Well, I guess you are at least honest in that assessment because jerky can also be dry just like your wit and salty relating to your coarseness. Perhaps while we are celebrating at the finish, another Varki team may find some of you feasting on the remains of your teammates. That's if you are lucky. I for one will have my jerky." He holds up his bag and takes a meaningful bite out of a piece and mockingly laughs, Har, har, har!"