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Early this morning, each of you received a letter summoning you to the Grand Lodge. More specifically, the office of Ambrus Valsin, but it offers little more information. His door is firmly shut when you arrive. Knowing better than to possibly interrupt some other business of his, you're left to wait just outside. Hopefully he'll be with you shortly.
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A female halfling sits cross-legged near the door. She has a ruddy complexion and blonde hair, like she has spent a lot of time outside. Her head is backlit by a shining light, from whatever angle you see her at. She wears leather armor, and has a shortsword and shortbow. At the moment, she is gently playing a small harp.
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An elderly goblin…woman? Let’s go with woman. A goblin woman wearing a set of spectacles with ridiculously thick lenses traipses down the hallway—a thoroughly charred walking stick in one hand and the letter from the Society in the other. Despite looking straight ahead of her as she walked, the goblin walks straight into Marigold!
”Ooww! Sorry about that my boy. Can one of you point me to Ambrus’s office? I got this letter but I can’t discern a lick of it! I saw the Glyph of the Open Road on the front, so I figured ol’ Muttonchops would know something, but whoever wrote these signs weren’t thinking of the visually impaired. Hmph.”
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The door opens after a few minutes of introductions. Ambrus Valsin seems deep in thought, a common appearance for the stoic Steward of Absalom’s Grand Lodge. “Most of you know Zarta Dralneen, I assume?” Valsin begins, nodding to the woman sitting next to his desk. “She’s recently accepted an appointment as head archivist of the Grand Lodge, so you’ll understand her interest in this assignment shortly.”
The Venture-Captain gestures to a map of Absalom and then the Isle of Kortos hanging on the wall behind him. “You’re heading to Otari, along the southern coast between here and Diobel. One of our transport vessels, a barque called Durvin’s Query, foundered just outside the harbor there a few days ago. It was laden with the artifacts collected from a site in the Mwangi Expanse. The Pathfinders returning on the ship collected the most valuable cargo but were forced to leave the rest. They made their way to Otari and sent word of their misfortunes to the Grand Lodge. Based on their report, I need you to go, pick up the material immediately, and bring it back safely to the Grand Lodge.”
Zarta Dralneen smoothly takes up the narrative. “Of course, it’s not quite as simple as that,” she smiles. ”But before I continue, have you any questions?”
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A young man, with the look of a cabin boy comes into the lodge and stares around. "I got it, I got the invitation." he says with some excitement.
You see a short human who, in addition to his travelling gear, has a trident, like an oversized toasting fork, attached to his back. The shining metal prongs rise over his battered black and gold decorated tricorne hat. His dirty, light and airy cream shirt and grey pants show that no armour is being worn. Over these garment hangs a light brown woolen shawl, and a broach depicting the gods of the winds and waves. Underneath his hat, longish straw coloured hair surrounds a bronzed weathered young cheery face. He smiles, and brings his hand to hold a carved leaf, with a funny looking round drop on the end. He stands there thinking for a second, before sets down his backpack and asks "Anything I can help with." as he looks from the Venture-Captain to the assembled team.
He introduces himself, "I'm Cecic Baseborn, sailor and follower of the winds and waves, brought here from the pirate seas of the Mwangi to serve in the Society and discover the world. And now some of my world has sunk near Otari and we are to retrieve it. Well, this is gonna be fun. So, what's the situation with the wreck and salvaging the goods, whatever they may be. I mean you will have a list from the ship's bill of lading?" he asks, then as an afterthought adds, "I suppose there are more interested parties?"
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”For the last time Ambrus, I’ve told you that the runes you keep putting in your missives are cursed!” The elderly goblin crumples up the letter and throws it at Zarta’s shoulder as she shakes her charred stick at the head archivist. ”You’re lucky my prescription was wrong, Valsin, otherwise my mind would be gone! But, I’ll admit, you got my attention with this. So which were we recovering, the valuables the other Pathfinders recovered or the ones they didn’t?”
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A dwarf stomps into the room wearing gleaming golden plate armor and an ivory cloak. He has one shield in his hand and another on his back, both emblazoned with a golden hammer.
Without his helm on, you can spy his pale skin and white hair shaved close to his head.
"Zourn Duvalo, servant of Grundinnar, it seems you will be my companions for this mission? Unless this Valsin has been double-booked." he greets the group, a fleeting cloud of breath appearing with each word.
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He listens intently, "It isn't simple? Thus far the source of complication is my main concern. Has the wreck already been scavenged?" he questions the Venture-Captain.
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"You'll be after the relics our agents left behind," Ambrus replies to the goblin. "Their initial haul is already here, but that wasn't a large percentage of the whole shipment. And I can't speak to any...arboreal menace, but as you're about to hear, we can't guarantee anything."
Zarta continues where she left off. “The team aboard Durvin’s Query encountered a sequence of extremely...unusual events as they returned home. Bad luck plagued them the entire trip, and they ran into more than the usual number of oceanic hazards. I suspect that something they picked up in the Expanse was the source of their extreme bad luck, and I’m eager to find out just what it is.”
Valsin slides a weather-stained list across his desk. “As you may know, salvage belongs to the finder, and so we couldn’t just leave the items in the shipwreck for anyone to find. I’ve already contacted an old friend in Otari, a former Pathfinder by the name of Khoumrock Blackthane, to be your advance agent. Khoumrock’s team has gone to the wreck site to collect everything that was left behind—here’s the list.” He hands over a sheaf of parchment. “By the time you arrive in Otari, he’ll have it fully packed for you. You’ll be sailing there for speed, but given the experience the previous team had at sea, we feel the safest method of transport back is overland, through the Immenwood and along the High Coast Road.”
Valsin’s face turns grim. “Now, I know this might sound like a less-than-glamorous assignment, playing caravan guard for a couple of days, but it’s important. That material came from an important site, and the string of bad luck the original team had means there’s something in there that isn’t what it seems. Be on your guard, and make sure nothing goes missing on the way back. Any more questions?”
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Clinker leaps in fright as Ambrus speaks and looks between him and Zarta for several moments then takes off her glasses and squints at the thick lenses. ”Thought Valsin was over here; guess these aren’t the right prescription either. Ah well.” She puts the glasses back on and listens to the rest of Zarta’s and Ambrus’s words.
”So, you sent me a missive with cursed runes and now there’s a cursed something-or-other? Well, I suppose that’s a theme, so I’ll forgive you for that. Count me in!”
”So, the Immenwood, isn’t that the forest near here? What kinds of things are there that would, or could, want to steal these valuables?”
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Both Marigold and Zourn vaguely recall that most accidents at sea have some connection to Gozreh's wrath. The dualistic entity can be as peaceful as the summer breeze, moments before unleashing their full fury against those who despoil nature. Gozren priests often harness their environment and summon aquatic creatures to aid in their goals.
Clinker has heard talk framing Otari as a perfect port town, free of Absalom's constant bustle but not the accompanying luxury. It lies between Absalom and Diobel, leading many retired or vacationing Pathfinders to stay there. The Thirsty Alpaca Tavern in particular is one of their haunts.
"I can't imagine much in that forest that would be out for our cargo," Valsin replies to the goblin. "Few bandits, no Aspis that I know of, and I'd be the one to know. The locals would be the best informed on that topic, I'll admit."
"As for the last crew, they're fine now. Most of their issues were marine-specific. Winds pushing them overboard, barnacle infestations, attack by massive sea creatures, the like. Some were struck by lightning - repeatedly - but we've had no more such reports."
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With a sigh, Cecic is almost about to interrupt and say that sailing back is obviously the safest option, but refrains under the VC's stern loks and serious words. "So, you say that there's something causing the journey to be 'unlucky' and for us not to 'loose' anything. Are any of these 'packages' alive, that it might up and disappear on it's own?" the cleric asks rather concerned. "Otherwise, it's facing the dangers in the Immenwood and Coast Road, so what dangers has the society identified to hinder travel through these areas?"
When he hears the description of Gozreh, he speaks up, "But Gozreh listens to those who follow him. It is his internal struggle that is often the cause, he has no malice. Only when the wilds and seas are made to cowtow to civilisation or spoiled, or given over to the undead, then my god will show his wrath." Cecic holds up his symbol of Gozreh for all to see, proud of his god's powers.
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"Khoumrock will have much more concrete information than us," Ambrus says to Martin. He scratches his distinctive beard in thought. "But in case it comes up, these relics came from an ancient Gozren temple just south of the Sodden Lands."
Zarta responds to Cecic. "Nothing in the cargo is alive. We don't expect there to be any dangers moving through Immenwood, and it isn't by sea, which is why we decided on it as your route. Hopefully, this will be a harmless job taking two days, barely constituting a mission. Years of experience would call me a fool for expecting that, though."
Martin and Cecic wrack their brains, coming up with about the same information Marigold and Zourn did. "If that's all, then you should be off, Pathfinders," Ambrus says. "At least you'll be able to sail for the first leg of this."
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Zarta Dralneen follows your assembled party out of Ambrus Valsin's office. She puts a hand on Zourn's shoulder. "A moment of your time," she says. "In private, if you please."
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Zourn steps away with Zarta Dralneed for a moment.
"Absolutely, I prefer concrete answers myself, I will catalog every remaining item and ensure it is returned. Hopefully Gozreh's faithful has no objections. Time may be of the essence so I am off but you have my oath on completing the mission, Miss Dralneen." he says proud and sure of words.
He hustles back to the group after giving one last nod to the head archivist.
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Zarta looks pained at this conclusion. "We guessed as much early on, I'll admit. But the first team mentioned in their report having discussed the matter with a Gozren priest in the nearby town of Pridon's Folly. She allowed the relics' removal. The church of the Wind and the Waves has little formal hierarchy, but she was apparently the undisputed voice of her deity's authority in the region."
"Our next theory was that some of the relics belonged to the Storm Kindlers. A splinter sect of Gozreh's usual faith from that area. Most people don't like them, or so I've heard. We don't know much more than that they're known for causing trouble, and we'd like to learn. Perhaps the very existence of some item or other caused an affront."
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Zarta looks pained at this conclusion. "We guessed as much early on, I'll admit. But the first team mentioned in their report having discussed the matter with a Gozren priest in the nearby town of Pridon's Folly. She allowed the relics' removal. The church of the Wind and the Waves has little formal hierarchy, but she was apparently the undisputed voice of her deity's authority in the region."
"Our next theory was that some of the relics belonged to the Storm Kindlers. A splinter sect of Gozreh's usual faith from that area. Most people don't like them, or so I've heard. We don't know much more than that they're known for causing trouble, and we'd like to learn. Perhaps the very existence of some item or other caused an affront."
”Oh, I see”, Marigold replies, looking relieved. ”In that case, let us be off, with Gozreh’s blessing and Desna’s grace” She touches a stylized butterfly pendant that hangs around her neck.
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Hoping she has assuaged the Gozren, Zarta ushers you out. Anyone with some knowledge of her would believe she's likely telling the truth, but wouldn't have minded if the artifacts had just been seized.
Your journey to Otari, aboard a contracted ship called the Singing Waif, takes the better part of the day. The sea churns and the wind blow towards the shore, but not with supernatural strength - still, enough that it might upset even a sea dog's stomach.
The Waif docks just past sunset. Standing alongside is a dwarf, certainly strange-looking enough to be a Pathfinder. He wears full plate armor, heavily altered by mechanical pieces to function as a diving suit. His most visible facial feature behind the contraptions is a large, red nose. He waves you over as you disembark. "You the team old Mutton-Chops sent over?"
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The dwarf nods, a smile becoming more visible as you draw closer. "Khoumrock Blackthane, former Venture-Captain. Not that that's important. Ride over treat ya all right?" He walks off the dock, bidding everyone follow him to the Thirsty Alpaca Tavern.
"Well, I'll get some rooms here for the night, for after we're done talkin', better to stay th' night before riding out come morning. The wagon’s all packed and ready to go by t’stable. S’easy enough to drive, or you can hire a teamster, iff’n you’d prefer. I’ll be glad to see that cart roll out o’ town, truth be told."
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Martin wasn't particularly good on boats, it seemed. The wind-tossed boat's deck was slick and very unstable. He mostly just held on and tried not to throw up or go overboard. Looking around him during the voyage, he could see the others doing the same...with varying degrees of success.
When they arrived at the docks to be met by the strange-looking sea-dwarf, Martin shook hands. "Martin Shadestep. Glad to hear that you managed to recover most of the artifacts. Any idea what's what? We can probably manage the team ourselves, assuming relatively decent horses. Given our mission, I'd rather not bring anyone else into it."
"What else can you tell us about this stuff? Is it cursed, like the rumors say? Any idea which item is the problem? Or is it all of them?"
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Several times over the course of the journey the elderly goblin found herself heaving the previous meal over the side of the boat. Her face would’ve been green with nausea if it weren’t already a striking viridian.
”I’m…uugh….glad we’re not…taking the items…by boat…now….”
I’ll be glad to see that cart roll out o’ town, truth be told."
Finally over her initial bouts of nausea, the goblin looks at—or more accurately toward—the dwarf with confusion.
”Now why’s that?”
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Khoumrock enters the dingy tavern and brushes some rats from a booth. The dwarf holds a hand out upon sitting down, pulling back as a flagon is pressed into it by a passing server. He swirls it around listlessly as he tells his tale. “When Ambrus called me, I got a few friends an’ went right out to the wreck. We gathered everythin’ we could find. The storm already dashed the hulk again’ the rocks and broken her open, but most o’ the crates were washed ashore. I dove in to make sure she weren’t leaking any cargo, but the waves were rough and things were movin’ down that weren’t just the water and fishies!” He frowns as he recalls the night’s efforts.
“The sky opened up as soon as we started packin’. The horses were half-mad wit’ the lightnin’ and the wind. It took all o’ night and part o’ the morning to collect everythin’, and we nearly lost the wagon to a big wave what came a-crashin’ onto the shore from out of no’ere. The storm followed us allt’way back to town. So did summat else – as we got t’the towngate, we saw summat long and snakish breakin’ the waves out in the harbor. I didn’t get a good look, ‘cause the watchtower was struck by lightnin’ just then and it blinded me for a tick. When I looked back, it were gone.” Khoumrock looks to the ceiling in thought. “Apparently, we lost a fisherman out towards the docks right thenabouts. Coulda been an accident, but I knows better.” Khoumrock shakes his head again. “Might be time for me to do a little divin’ out thar, clean things out, ya know?”
"Point is, I've been around long enough to know when bad luck just up an' strikes or when there's a reason for it. This feels like the latter. Hopefully this shipment leaving Otari'll set things on their way to being right again."
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"Sure. Let's check off the cargo on this manifest we were given. Make sure we have what the Venture Captains want. Then, an early start tomorrow?"
Martin will help with the wagon, as well as meeting the team that they were going to be using to draw it. He let the horses get comfortable with his smell, and directed anyone that joined him in the stables to do the same.
Back in the inn, with a drink in his hand, Martin said, "Okay, I don't think we've officially discussed this yet, and we need to. Who here can drive a team? I know I can, but I'm better suited to range out ahead of the party and scout. Anyone else have experience with animals?"
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Sipping at his cup of ale, Cecic is intrigued by the contents of the manifest, "Khoumrock, a lot of interesting cases. Perhaps we should sleep close by to the cargo, if it's that valuable. Hate to see us loose anything before we even get started." The cleric says with a smile. "Once we've finished here perhaps we should just go and check the inventory, Martin is right in that we should do that. Perhaps one of you has the ability to check for magic?" Cecic asks his companions.
Walking to the stables with Martin, Cecic talks with him, "I have a good understanding of animals and plants, as all followers of Gozreh. Perhaps I can learn quickly to lead the horses and drive them on. I will stay with the animals overnight, so they can get used to me." he smiles.
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Marigold meets a somewhat short and very talkative elf. Zourn tries for someone less run-of-the-mill, but he is entrenched in the ensuing conversation. "Don't know why you'd come here, so I suppose I should fill you in! It's been raining since that thrice-damned ship hit. This isn't quite the best it's been, but we've seen enough that most houses have taken a bit of water."
"Maybe that's what's gotten all our animals riled up. Maybe. I can get how Old Wilbourn's cat scratches more if there's some flooding. But the dogs have been going wild too, and Gastra the mule's kicked three people this week! I should move to Rahadoum and get away from all this silliness."
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Sipping at his cup of ale, Cecic is intrigued by the contents of the manifest, "Khoumrock, a lot of interesting cases. Perhaps we should sleep close by to the cargo, if it's that valuable. Hate to see us loose anything before we even get started." The cleric says with a smile. "Once we've finished here perhaps we should just go and check the inventory, Martin is right in that we should do that. Perhaps one of you has the ability to check for magic?" Cecic asks his companions.
Walking to the stables with Martin, Cecic talks with him, "I have a good understanding of animals and plants, as all followers of Gozreh. Perhaps I can learn quickly to lead the horses and drive them on. I will stay with the animals overnight, so they can get used to me." he smiles.
”Then I shall be your second”, says Marigold, ”and provide cover if needed” She pats her bow.
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Marigold meets a somewhat short and very talkative elf. Zourn tries for someone less run-of-the-mill, but he is entrenched in the ensuing conversation. "Don't know why you'd come here, so I suppose I should fill you in! It's been raining since that thrice-damned ship hit. This isn't quite the best it's been, but we've seen enough that most houses have taken a bit of water."
"Maybe that's what's gotten all our animals riled up. Maybe. I can get how Old Wilbourn's cat scratches more if there's some flooding. But the dogs have been going wild too, and Gastra the mule's kicked three people this week! I should move to Rahadoum and get away from all this silliness."
”Oh my!”, says Marigold. ”I hope we can resolve this before the whole town is flooded!”’