This is a closed game for PFS2E's #1-16 and #1-17. We'll begin on June 1. Please dot and delete when you have time.
You've spent several weeks traveling from Absalom to the magnificent port city of Quantium, the capital of Nex. The voyage south was uneventful, filled with the sound of sails luffing lazily in the balmy breeze of the Obari Ocean. The tradeship plied the waters along the coast of Garund, in no great hurry to reach its destination port. On the eleventh day out from the Inner Sea, the lookout in the crow's nest caught sight of an emerald sea serpent in the distance, undulating in and out of the cold waves of the open ocean — a sign of good luck!
Finally, the ship rounded the coast of the enigmatic Valkus Isle and approached Quantium from the South, offering a spectacular view of the city: palace spires soaring in the late-morning light, hanging gardens, huge open-air mazes, floating towers, and majestic university buildings burning with arcane sigils.
Just as your ship glides into the harbor, a colossal ruby-colored golem trudges along the perimeter of the docks district; the docks quiver with each thud of its massive feet. however, teamsters and sailors alike flow around the creature as if it's a perfectly commonplace part of their morning routine. The golem slowly moves away the corner, like a guard making the rounds.
You're finally here, ready to meet retired Pathfinder and friend of the Society Khoumrock Blackthane. He's got a lead on one of the founding members of the Pathfinder Society, Selmius Foster! You've also heard rumblings that the trail leads to a mysterious island far out in the middle of the Obari Ocean. this would explain why Khoumrock's involved in this mission, but you'll have to hear it from him first…
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The voyage started out very loud for Gurmire. It started when he announced himself as "Gurmire, arson investigator and pathfinder agent!", to which the captain had the bosun immediately explain to him at full volume about how sailors feel about fire at sea. It is likely all the captain heard was the word arson coming from a goblin mouth. It did not help that Gurmire pointed out several fire dangers on the ship as the bosun was yelling.
After a few days of seeing him around without any fires starting, the crew started to relax a little bit. Although some of them never trusted him, they all agreed that at least he didn't start a fire everyplace he went.
During the trip, Gurmire liked to climb up into the ropes so he could see more of the sea. He usually was able to do so without becoming tangled in the ropes.
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Packet greets everyone with a tip of his hat, and Pip and Gurmire with a hearty handshake.
He introduces himself to all as the founder of the Sleepy Detective agency, no occult mystery too small or too dangerous. But when a pair of silver napkin rings go missing from the captain's dinner table Packet is hard pressed to accept the case.
It is a long journey though, and not much else to do. And it is strange that the rings weren't in the third drawer on the left where they normally are. And there was that sea serpent.
Turns out they had been tossed into the laundry along with the napkins themselves, and it wasn't even the first time, according to the crew members Packet cornered interviewed.
Well, another case solved. Not much else to do but sleep and eat after that.
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A porter assists a blonde elf with striking violet eyes as she drags a large trunk on board the ship.
"Honestly, if they aren't going to tell me what kind of mission it is, then I'll just have to pack for everything. I'm a trained diplomat after all, I need to be dressed appropriately to make the right impression. Oh, no, don't take the longbow below decks, I'll hold onto that, thank you."
As she meets the other Pathfinders, she introduces herself. "Well, is this our motley crew for this mission? I'm Zarindlara Aviar, from Kyonin. You know, I'm aware I joined up with the Horizon Hunters, but it still feels like I've barely spent time in Absalom. I swear my sister, she's a Venture-Captain you know, she's absolutely awful, is deliberately pulling strings to get me assigned far away."
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Gurmire comes down to introduce himself to the new elf.
"That is unlucky. My last mission was into the sewers of Absalom! Got to fight a big green lizard and not drown!" The little fellow smiles, he obviously thought it great fun.
"Maybe we do well this time, you could get sent into the sewers of Absalom!"
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"Hello, Zarindlara. It's nice to see you again." A tall half-elf man dressed in Shoanti style strides up to join you, a finely-made shortbow slung over one shoulder. "It's a pity we couldn't have stayed in Garund after that business in Katapesh; would have saved a lot of travel." Turning to the rest of the group, he pulls back his hood to reveal a shaved head and facial tattoos. "My name is Varret, envoy of the Shadde-Quah. I shall do what I can to keep us all healthy and whole."
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Gurmire gives Zarindlara a perplexed look. “Thought you wanted jobs in Absalom. Might be your sister knew how picky you are, and that is reason you not get the great sewer jobs there.”
He then shrugs and turns to the new elf man. Looking up at him, he introduces himself. “Greetings, Varret! I am Gurmire, Arson Investigator and Pathfinder Agent. I throw things.”
Switching to Shoanti, he says “I am from Magnimar. I am familiar with some of the Quah, but not yours. Do you have any tales of your clan?”
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Varret nods to the goblin and responds. "Terveisiä, Gurmire. Ei ole usein tavannut jotakuta, joka puhuu äidinkieleni, enkä usko, että olen koskaan tavannut yhtäkään kansastanne, joka puhuu. Vastaukseksi minulla on monia tarinoita; Ehkä kerron teille joitain myöhemmin."
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Pip yawns as she comes from her ship's cabin. Although ship's voyages are exciting, so were the books she'd found on Nexian law and history! She'd stayed up half the night reading them.
"Morning, everyone! Did someone say something about an archery contest? I wouldn't mind competing, though I'd hardly be a challenge for you two!"
Pip returns Packet's hearty handshake, and smiles as she addresses Gurmire. "Our dive into the sewers was fascinating. Crocodiles! Mysteries! Undead! Even undead who were mysteries!"
She introduces herself to Varret and Zarindlara. "I'm Pip, from the Envoy Alliance Legal defense fund. I'll be your legal counsel in case we run into any difficulties. Have any of you been to Quantium or Nex before? I've heard it's a country and city of wonders!"
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"Woooooof!"
Bailiff runs out to greet people, sticking his nose under people's hands as they look out over the water.
You should pet me! I'm a good dog!
You make your way to The Crow's Nest, a rough-and-tumble dockside bar. Sitting at a sawdust-caked table is the saltiest sea-dog in the Society, Khoumrock Blackthane (also known to some as "Captain Octo-Boots," on account of the molluscs he always seems to be stomping on during his explorations of the seafloor). He's drinking a mug of dark stout and flags you over to the table. He gets right to it:
As ye lot might’ve heard, we’re currently lookin’ into the trail o’ the ole foundin’ members o’ the Pathfinder Society, Selmius Foster. He made loads o’ discoveries before he vanished on an island in the Obari Ocean. We’re pretty sure he died there, but we don’t know the details. Other than some mention o' him bein' killed by some ‘dog-faced people’ — whatever that means. Ambrus wants ye lot to travel to the jungle isle o’ Bhopan and find out what ye’ can about ole Selmius.
There’s supposed to be a city there, but weather’s rough that time of the year, so there’s a decent chance we’ll have to drop ye lot off on the other side o’ the isle. Ye all should prepare for a trek through the jungle.
Anyways, yerr smart ones, so if ye can, try to not make a fuss with the locals while there, got me? There’s a good chance Selmius didn’t leave us with the best reputation there, so try to be discreet and tactful.
As Khoumrock speaks, Pip and Gurmire and Packet think about what they know about the Pathfinder Society… which turns out to be a lot.
Though Selmius Foster is best known for his successes as an explorer, these successes gradually inflated his ego. The more famous he became, the more fame and wealth he desired, and the less he cared about the consequences of his actions for the people around himparticularly people that he didn’t expect to see again, such as the people from lands far away from his home in Absalom. He often relied on his trusted companion Adolphus to clean up after his social faux pas. Adolphus’s entry on Foster’s death was oddly brief for the methodical scholar—a fact that many have attributed to grief over the loss of his mentor. Adolphus’s wife, Ganjay, was known for her keen intellect and noble bearing, and she had a striking, multicolored appearance, reminiscent of an opal. Ganjay confided in her friends that she was once the princess of a faraway land, but she was reluctant to speak more about her past.
Khoumrock's diving suit creaks when he wipes the stout's foam off his beard. Have ye any questions? An' keep yer sea-legs on: we push off in a couple hours on me very own ship, the Unsinkable!
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"A trek through the jungle?" Pip considers, trying to quell her disappointment in missing out on the opportunity to see the Quantium Lodge for herself, and meet its gnomish VC. "Well... jungles should be pretty, and full of interesting wildlife. Have you heard of any that we should make a point of looking for? Any known dangers, or spectacular sights?"
Then she glances down again at his footwear. "Your boots are magnificent! Are they in style here? Also, what is proper jungle attire?"
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"Is there anything you can tell us of this particular jungle island?"
Blackthane drinks deep. Ain't much ta tell ye. I heard sailors' tales o' jagged reefs an' rough waters aroun' a strange isle, and the glimmerin's o' some fairy city deep in th' greenery. Ye lot are the first ta set foot there in maybe hundreds o' years! Excitin' times!
Have you heard of any [wildlife] that we should make a point of looking for? Any known dangers, or spectacular sights?"
Prolly all sorts o' beasties an' bugs an whatnot! There's reasons I prefer it underwater. But I'm sure ye lot'll be fine! I recommend always bein' polite where possible to the animals — especially the ones bigger than ye. It's their home too, right?
Then she glances down again at his footwear. "Your boots are magnificent! Are they in style here? Also, what is proper jungle attire?"
The old sailor blushes. These ol' things? Hmmm. Ya know, people been givin' me all these funny looks whilst I walk aroun' here. Might be that's why. Style. He proudly puts his boots up on a nearby chair, which creaks alarmingly under their weight.
Mighty heavy, but under water they anchor ya ta th' bottom real good. That ways, no riptides can grab ye and pull ye out to th' briny deeps. A squid-arm waves from the sole of the left boot. Perhaps the mollusk is regrowing itself… And they're good fer stompin. Stompin's always in fashion, right?
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Packet puffs thoughtfully on his pipe as Khoumrock is speaking.
"I've never had a case that's sent me to the jungle before, although I've found many a missing person. Maybe not as missing as this one, being as how he's supposed to be dead. Should be interesting. Especially considering, you know, dog-faced people. Is this fairy city the same as the city you mentioned earlier? Or is this a different city? Just trying to keep track."
Is this fairy city the same as the city you mentioned earlier? Or is this a different city? Just trying to keep track."[/b]
Right, that's why you lot were chosen. Yer good at figurin' stuff out, diplomatic, an' smart. I think sailors tend to exaggerate… but it must be the same city. Who knows what ye lot will find there?
"Wooof!"
Bailiff wags his tail as he gets petted. I don't know what's going on, but they're petting me!
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While Khoumrock Blackthane briefs, you cannot help but notice, a young, dishevelled fellow half-turn from his stool at the bar and glance your way.
Eventually, he downs the dregs of his small beer, rises and strides towards you. Greasy dreads hang amongst his coal-coloured hair, while a winning smile beams from beneath a seven-day growth of beard.
“Pray forgive the intrusion.”
The youth appears to cosplay an iconic fighter, though his weapon and armor props look real.
The rake kneels down to make a fuss of the Bailiff. “I couldn’t help but overhear you are planning a sea voyage.”
He stands. “Oh, but where are my manners? Mes ladies, gentlemen. I am Keats Erikssòn. Bard, minstrel and fight choreographer.”
“Forgive me, but although you project great strength with spell and from range, you lack the forward defenses necessary for preventing the enemy from reaching you.”
“Seeing my last billing got cancelled, leaving me with some temporary liquidity problems. Not to mention the trifling legal issues I am keen to delay ashore, a holiday to a tropical isle is just what I need!”
“Between your gaps and my fillings, perhaps we might be of mutual service? Does your noble Society still offer field commissions to qualified candidates?”
Khoumrock squints at Keats and grins. Another would-be Pathifnder for yer team? Would-be might as well be, I says. "We must learn ta sail tha high winds and ta row tha still waters alike," as they say. Meanin,' whate'er chance may bring, ye must navigate it. Whaddya say, hey? Keats looks like a good match for ye lot ta me.
An Keats, I think Pip here's a barrister o' some sort, so may be she can help ye when's all said an' done! The old captain takes his boots off the tortured chair, stands, and belches mightily. Well, I'll be off! Meet me on the Unsinkable when yer ready. The floor shakes as he stomps out.
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“Are you indeed a learned friend, my lady?”
Keats bows to Pip with a flourish, like he cannot believe his luck!
“Do you accept briefs from ignorant foreigners, all-at-sea with the customs of Nex?”
“I fear my case may be too far beneath one of your talents. Likely as not to be heard in the lowest court of Petty Sessions.”
The rapscallion opens his lean coin pouch and sighs. “I do so hate to mention how pro bono publico work may advance your undoubtedly already sterling reputation …”
“Though I guarantee accepting my brief would be for the betterment of Quantium's fair community.”
The Unsinkable is a three-masted barque rigged with six rare Alkenstar cannons as well as some disturbingly large harpoon guns that seem better suited for kraken than for whales. Old Blackthane seems to be a powerful force out here on the high seas; it's good the ex venture-captain is still an ally of the Society.
The voyage is totally miserable — as rough and stormy as Blackthane feared. (Some of you might even have a truly terrible time dealing with sea-sickness.) It takes several weeks of sailing to reach the island, which rises like a lonely remnant of wall breached by the endless sea. The whole place is covered in misty, impenetrable-looking jungle.
The navigational charts — most of which are mere sketches that provide minimal information about this forlorn place — show evidence of deadly reefs lurking below the waves. Just as you feared, weather prevents the Unsinkable from safely rounding the island to drop you off on the far side.
Blackthane puts you in a dinghy and points to a sliver of rocky beach. He shouts over the wind: We'll row ye lot over there. When the weather's calm, we'll meet ye on the other side!
An hour later, you find yourselves on a somber coast that faces a mist-shrouded ocean. Reddish trails of earth are visible through the dark-green foliage of bushes and creepers that trail along the low granite cliffs. The vast and primeval jungle casts its shadow toward the eternally toiling waves.
You do not waste time in this desolate spot, moving inland as quickly as you can. You hope to find the enigmatic city on the far side of Bhopan before night falls…
You cut through the underbrush and make better time once you penetrate the barrier of the jungle. There is no topsoil here, only a red clay that collects rainwater in shallow pools. There are thousands of these pools everywhere and they are quite difficult to avoid — inevitably, you disturb the midges and flies that breed in the still water. Soon, you're surrounded by clouds of biting insects! Gross!
The bare-footed Packet succeeds in tiptoeing around the pools, while Zarindlara observes which pools contain the fewest insects, discovering several pools that contain absolutely no gross bugs!
Mites! Bold is Up:
Gurmire
Keats
Packet: Success
Pip
Varret
Zarindlara: Crit Success
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Keats spends the whole sea voyage in his hammock moaning and vomiting.
He hands over his last coin in an attempt to hire Gurmire to empty his humor-bucket down the heads for’ard. “Out of the frying pan into some infernal, unhinged washing machine! I shall die here, Gurmie, I tell you!”
“One morning, good Gurmire, you will fly to my hammock’s side to find it has become my death bed. And the Captain will order you to stuff me down the head, along with my erstwhile companion – the bucket!”
🎭
First near-death by having your insides turned out in the belly of Dagon’s bath-toy, and then the joy of returning to solid ground is squelched by … THIS!
Keats rises from the patch of clay he has been kissing and attempts to fan the tiny aerial armada away with both hands. “I must say, Pathfindering isn’t quite as Romantic as what I had been led to believe.”
“Is it time for day jobs yet? Should we start heading back to report to ol' VC Octo-boots?”
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As Pip swats away the clouds of irritating insects, she considers what she knows about Bhopan as she trods knee deep through the muck with Keats.
Squelch. Squelch.
As she looks up at the tall and miserable looking warrior, and tries to say something cheery. "Nothing better than getting back to nature, right, Keats?"
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“Oh, blood-suckers of the larger variety I can manage, Ser Varret.”
The stage fighter draws his sword and demonstrates with a theatrical lunge. “Truth be told, some of my best friends are leeches on the Inner Sea's bum.”
Keats re-sheathes and rolls up his sleeves while he grumbles. “I suppose this stuff dries into a Zon-awful scaly powder. My skin MUST NOT be allowed to dry out, Varret!”
“OOooh, that feels better right away! I say, what a capital fellow you are, Varret!”
“From now on I shall ignore the dreadful things Zarindlara says about you behind your back.”
"Nothing better than getting back to nature, right, Keats?"
“Nature is perfectly fine, milady. As long as it stays outside, and doesn’t get on one’s shoes.”
He bows. “I was about to make a ghastly clichéd comment about company, misery and love, but instead you have inspired me in another direction.”
♫ Lady, when I met you it was Keats v. Crown
The cops set out to get me, I was forced to roam
I felt sick inside
There was cookie-tossin’ going on ♫
The bugs do something to me that I can’t explain
Then Varret slops that white stuff and I feel no pain!
Under helm and glove
A crit success is going on.
Flies are in the cream
That is where they are
Varret’s lotion is a dream
Zarindlara must be wrong
Toil away for me
In the legal world
Cos I rely on your counsel, ah ha!
Or from the stage, it’s the slammer, ah ha! ♫
Pip makes some intuitions about the nature of these bugs and avoids the worst of it while Gurmire concocts an effective repellant. Keats doesn't seem to fare well, earning bites just under the edge of his socks, the tender skin between his fingers, and behind his earlobes. Varret leverages his experience to take care of the worst bites; but like so many artists, Keats manages to create art from his suffering. He shares it with the whole forest.
Soon, you notice that there are fewer pools on the ground and fewer insects in the air. Relief! But then you see that the clay here is littered with thousands of tiny shards of obsidian. They are also hidden in the undergrowth, waiting to slice the feet of unwary travelers. This island is truly horrible.
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“Happy to follow your lead, Master Packet.”
The stage artist is careful to step where the detective does. "I'm more of a 'fast follower' than a leader, if you know what I mean."
On the other side, Keats holds up an arm and beckons the others over with an encouraging smile. "C'mon, you lot! There's nothing to it."
"It's just like a jolly game of Follow-My-Leader."
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Keats spends the whole sea voyage in his hammock moaning and vomiting.
He hands over his last coin in an attempt to hire Gurmire to empty his humor-bucket down the heads for’ard. “Out of the frying pan into some infernal, unhinged washing machine! I shall die here, Gurmie, I tell you!”
“One morning, good Gurmire, you will fly to my hammock’s side to find it has become my death bed. And the Captain will order you to stuff me down the head, along with my erstwhile companion – the bucket!”
“Where am I supposed to find a head big enough to pack you into? Seems like a pretty strange funeral rite, which god wants that one?” It is obvious Gurmire is no sailor. On the other hand, the goblin lifestyle is not suited to someone with a weak stomach.
What a strange man. I will have to watch this one, I bet he could become the stuff of a good goblin comedic song!
Gurmire tries to cheer Keats up during the trip, talking about various foods he has tried and experiments he has done with different ingredients.
Packet, Gurmire, and Keats leap around, avoiding the shrapnel. Zarindlara climbs through the branches above, slipping a few times but ultimately passing through the area safely.
Shrapnel… because this island is horrible. Bold is Up:
Gurmire: Crit Success
Keats: Success
Packet: Success
Pip
Varret
Zarindlara: Success
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Pip cheerfully skips along, joining Keats in his duet, and then proposing another.
♫ Hoppin' right along
Leaving behind mosquitos and fleas
Hope they didn't carry disease!
Sharing with a duet with Keats
Opportunity calls! Time to move our feets!
Reach out and grab it
And if danger comes, we'll stab it
This could be a habit!
Hoppin' right along
Footloose and fancy-free
Getting there is half the fun
Come share it with me ♫
Everyone easily avoids the strangely shrapnel-studded ground composing music and singing along (or not) as they go.
There's a path ahead. It leads through a patch of trees with multiple thorny protrusions. They hold fist-sized, pumpkin-like fruit. As you approach, a squirrel shakes one of these fruits from a branch. It falls down and detonates, shooting thorns and spikes everywhere!
It looks like there is finally a clearing ahead — perhaps this portion of your journey is near an end. Just one more hurdle…