The Pathfinders are on a boat from Absalom up the Iseld river in Cheliax, where they will transfer to a caravan after reaching the Conerica Straits, and finally arrive in Elidir, the capital of Isger.
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Teja is a tall woman who dresses in the Varisian fashion. Her looks however are more northern. No heavy weapons are seen on her, although a heavy book or two can be seen poking out of a haversack.
Ink stains her fingers as she leafs through a book, sitting on the rolling deck of the boat. She smiles, chatting aimably with sailors who are nearby, but returning constantly to the tome on her lap. When she eventually tires of it, Teja carefully stows the book before taking a stroll along the decks. Her walk is graceful, and she moves as a natural dancer, at one with the rolling of the ship.
"Hello!" she says, gretting other Pathfinders as they come aboard.
"I am Teja, Khellekdottir."
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Bariel Salvus, a very tall but lithe half-elf from the Mwangi Expanse, checks some of the knots and the sail placement as the ship sails upriver. In his left hand he grips a trident, on his back is a pack and a shield painted with a green leaf, a drop of water about to fall from the leaf's point. He turns to the other Pathfinders, smiles, and holds out his hand.
"Greetings, fellow travelers. The Wind and the Waves bless our journey so far," he says in a surprisingly melodic voice. "And who might you fine people be?"
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A goblin wearing tarnished armor and ratty skins comes aboard. A greatsword is sheathed over his back. He looks around warily, sniffing the air as he approaches. When he sees people, he perks up.
”Hiyo!”, he grins, raising a hand. ”I am ZOOSH! I come from da Big Swamp!”
He pauses, distracted by a beetle crawling on the deck nearby. He picks it up, sniffs it, and pops it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He makes a “meh” expression, and shrugs.
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When Zoosh pops a bug into his mouth, she leans closer. "Ahh Coleoptera I had heard of people who consumed them, but never met one before. How do they taste?"
Zoosh smacks his lips, and raises an eyebrow. ”I had better”, he replies, ”but I had worse”
He sees another one nearby, and snatches it. Holding it up to her, he adds, “Wanna try?”
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The small, oddly clean, figure in simple red robes, and no obvious weapons other than the very prominent holy symbol hanging around his neck, seemed half lost in thought as he wandered up the gangplank, and then looks positively startled when he see's Zoosh already on the boat, and starts chittering away in a fashion that would make stodgy veterans skin crawl, showing many sharp teeth in his wide face. In the middle of his harsh babble, his expression turns somber for a moment before continuing.
"Wait. Who be you? I am ... was Zonk of the Licktoads in Brinestump Swamp, near the human village of Sandpoint. Now I'm Zonk the Sunsaved, and I may be one of the last, if not last Licktoad left. At least with the Society I can play with pretty Fire!"
After a few moments, the figure turns to the other Pathfinders.
"Excuse me, I'm sorry. I am Zonk the Sunsaved, devoted of Sarenrae, and I am honored to join you in our quest up river, through the Whisperwood, to Isger. I am well qualified in keeping everyone alive, and will endeavor to do so!"
He nods firmly, and looks carefully over his new companions, and wonders if the contradiction of the polite words coming from the wide mouth filled with teeth, will result in trouble, or avert it.
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Bariel welcomes the new Pathfinder,"Greetings, friend Zonk! I think Zoosh has a beetle over there if you're in need of a little snack. It's good to see another faithful person here." He turns his back to the priest and points a thumb at his shield. "I'm not a follower of The Dawnflower," he says, turning back to face his new friend, "but I am an admirer. The Sun, after all, is a part of nature as well. Hopefully we get a chance to discuss theology on this trip, Father Zonk."
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Zonk's focus snaps back towards Zoosh with an almost audible snap at the mention of the beetle, which he happily accepts when offered, Tossing it up briefly, before snapping his jaws shut, crunching the poor beetle.
"That's, mmm, one, slurp, of the best parts of being a Pathfinder. You can always trade the shinies for more food. Cause, we're ALWAYS hungry. 'Splains so much. Hmm. Not quite as sweet as dragonfly, but has a pleasant crunch. Not amazing, but still much better than nothing! Thank you Zoosh!"
He turns towards Teja, and thinks hard for a moment, his brows creasing. "No, nothing like chicken. Why did you ask?
Spinning back towards Bariel like an excited top. "I've come to appreciate polite religious discourse, so I'd be happy to spend some of the hours ahead of us in discussion."
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Bariel laughs, "Now I'm becoming hungry!" He quickly eyes the two goblins, "But not for insects, no offense. Perhaps we could see if there is a galley aboard? I have a bit of knowledge about preparing a meal onboard a ship." He looks hopefully at his colleagues.
Zoosh looks hopefully at Bariel, licking his chops. He pauses to pick a leg out from between his teeth, and flick it away.
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A barrel-chested, somewhat rotund man steps out of his cabin, dotting his chin with a cloth. He has obviously been eating some of the leftover roast fowl from earlier in the day.
Arlo clearly has a jolly disposition, and when he sees his fellow Pathfinders he approaches immediately. "Ahhh! It seems I am paired up with each of you for this trip! I am Arlo of the Solemn Towers. The towers were much too solemn for me, so I joined the Pathfinders! I must embrace all of you!"
One by one, Arlo hugs each of the Pathfinders here.
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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 is casually leaning on the railing of the Quarter Deck and calls from above, "Ahoy there fellow Pathfinders!
He takes one last bite out of an apple before chucking the core overboard. While chewing the last bit of apple, he strolls down the stairs, stops before everyone, sweeps his hat off and bows deeply. "I am Mylow Metcalf and have the pleasure of accompanying you on this mission."
As he deftly replaces his hat, he continues, "Just returning from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings after participating and winning the historic Balgirdtrek which is an overland race though hazardous terrain. Ended up tangoing with a nasty creature and lost. But luckily, I had good teammates to overwhelm it before it could eat me." He gives a broad roguish grin to everyone. "I should be recovered enough for this new task and hope I can count on you for the same if things go awry."
The Pathfinders' contact is a human woman named Karla Wesver, a fellow Pathfinder from Isger and a member of the Horizon Hunters. The Pathfinders meet her at the White Stag Inn, a large and bustling inn on the Conerica River. Traders rub shoulders with merchants and river bargemen as furs and goods are exchanged. A woman sporting an intricate braid and a well‑worn travel outfit waits for the Pathfinders at the door of the inn. Upon seeing them, she waves them over and greets them each with a firm handshake before leading them to a booth in the corner of the taproom.
“Ah, good. You made it. I’m Karla Wesver. Welcome to Elidir, and welcome to the White Stag. It used to be that we Pathfinders had a bit of a strained relationship with the Chelaxian government. It still isn’t all sunshine and roses, but with the opportunity before us, we can now move about in public without fear of conflict or reprisal."
“As you may know, Isger is still a vassal state of Cheliax. The Chelaxians have bled Isger dry for years, but the increased demand for goods like Chelaxian brandy and other luxury items in Molthune and beyond has resulted in Cheliax finally getting off its high horse and investing some resources in Isger.
Normally these goods go through Druma to reach Molthune, but Druma has been raising import taxes. Cheliax issued an open bounty to explorers the world over: establish a new trail through the Menador Mountains between Isger and Molthune, suitable for pack animals to traverse.
So, this presents a rather rare opportunity for us to find a way through the Menador Mountains into Molthune. Calisro Benarry, leader of the Horizon Hunters faction, has a special interest in this bounty. She is hoping you will take to this challenge with gusto. She sent a package ahead for you."
The package contains a bottle of potent Urglin gin wrapped with a message:
The Menador Mountains are a real interesting place. And by interesting, I also mean dangerous. The peaks rise high, and they are the hunting grounds of several orc tribes. To help you out, I have included some cold weather gear for each of you, a medicine kit, and a complimentary bottle of Urglin gin, a drink strong enough to bring most humans to their knees with just one cup. It’s versatile. You can use it to make friends, clean wounds, or blow something up if you set fire to it. Now go out there and make us Horizon Hunters proud. And jealous!
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Bariel greets the new arrivals, enthusiastically lifting Arlo off his feet as he returns the smaller man's embrace. He gives a respectful nod to the halfling, catching his eyes as he does so, in a display of profound regard.
"We should save this for, ah, medicinal purposes" Bariel says, offering to carry the bottle.
"So, to the mountains we go. I hope we experience some vigorous gales!" He smiles with a nearly mad look in his eyes.
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Arlo looks serious for a moment. "There are ORCS of the Shattered Fang tribe in THOSE mountains!"
He pauses for a moment, then attempts to come up with a plan.
His plan is to take ALL of the chicken along for the trip.
"Mr. cook--I want to make sure you understand me when I say, I need ALL of the roast chicken on the boat. I don't want any misunderstandings. I'm afraid what you're hearing is that I want A LOT of chicken. That's not what I mean at all. We need ALL of the chicken on this boat...."
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Bariel looks at Teja thoughtfully. "So, your father, was he a Pathfinder as well?", then turns to Arlo, "Is there anything noteworthy about that tribe of orcs? As I recall from my studies, avalanches are a particular hazard in the area we are haded to. And most of the routes are a one way proposition."
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Mylow goes and changes into his Explorer's Gear and puts on his Leather Armor.
"We should not only map out the trail but set up cairns along the way every so often and mark the locations on the maps. If no one has objections, we can even mark any trees along the way with trail signs using a hatchet. I have this compass to keep us orientated."
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Teja nods to Bariel "Apparently so. I've never met him though. I only came south this year and have not had a chance to meet him yet. He always seems to be off on expeditions, never in Absalom"
"Those all seem like good ideas Mylow. We can deconstruct any that we put up which turn out to be dead ends."
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Bariel falls into step beside the tall human,"You are coming from the north then? Whereabouts, may I ask? Myself, I come from Senghor. Well, most recently anyway," he adds, a wry expression on his face
"As long as we are not injuring the trees, I have no objections, Mylow. I have a few qualms about this trailblazing business, but nothing too serious."
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Half muttering to himself, and half munching on the last bit of chicken he'd managed to acquire on his way back up onto the decks, and looking off into the distance.
"Mountains, Mountains ... I'm fairly positive that there are going to be at least one avalanche that we see, and if we're lucky, we won't get caught up in one!
Now, dis is important. If you hear of see an avalanche, you run to the SIDE immediately ... you don't try and outrun it, cause you'll just get tired, and all sorts of dead. In case it matters in another adventure, that's how you don't get sucked out to sea if you get caught in a current."
"As for marking trees, I'd rather make markings of stones in visible places... and we need a careful balance of how much we carry versus cache"
Everyone, save Arlo, makes easy progress through the mountains. Bariel gives Arlo a hand and catches him up with the group.
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After three days of travel, the Pathfinders spot a campfire just as dusk begins to fall. The river flooding during spring snowmelts has kept the terrain relatively free from large growth. No trees or bushes obscure the view. All five people in the camp are busy with food preparation, struggling to turn a spit with 5 unplucked chickens, and setting up the camp for the night. None of them are keeping watch.
There are three young men and two young women in the camp. They wear practical outfits, well‑suited for the rough terrain, but the outfits and the gear all look very new.
blades on one of the women’s outfits. It’s the heraldry of House Tilernos, a minor Chelaxian noble house.
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"Good point, Zonk. We'll need to keep an eye out for avalanches as one of the dangers."
As they come across the other group, Mylow whispers to his group, "Do you think they are here to trailblaze for the bounty like us? New gear & outfits. Camp set up out in the open. No one is keeping watch. Doesn't look like they are too skilled." Mylow looks at what type of armor or weapons they have if any and if there are any pack animals around.
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The nobles scramble when they finally see you approaching. "Who are you, and what do you want?" one asks.
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Hmm, best be cautious
"We couldn't help but notice that you looked a little... lost" admits Teja.
"Your chicken is unplucked, and likely inedible. Although a number of my companions may feel otherwise about it. "
She points to the fire. "You have a fire that is belching out smoke for all the orcs within miles to see and come and investigate."
Then she points out their gear "And all your equipment looks so new it may have come from Brun's finest goods within the last week." she surmises. "That it is all brand new tends to indicate you might not have a lot of experience in the hills."
She pauses for a moment "In short, it looked like you might need a hand."