The praetor remains patient. "Amersanus makes a good point. Sharrowsmith was a well-read and knowledgeable man, yet he disappeared in these jungles and caused damage we’re only beginning to feel the impact of thanks to the local kobold tribes. How is your expedition different? Do you have the necessary strength to survive in this environment where so many others cannot? Show me that those weapons and spellbooks you carry are not just for show."
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Without saying a word, Gaskar pulls out his whip. With a flick of his wrist, the whip snaps. His aim was for the Aspis agent. But instead of tripping anyone, the whip seems to pull itself out of Gaskar's hands and he drops it. Gaskar fumbles at the floor to pick it up and lets out an awkward laugh, then shrugs.
He'll wrap up his whip and pull out his heavy flail instead. He poses with it while watching the other Pathfinders - hoping they'll distract the praetor long enough that they'll forget him.
The agent looks on incredulously, glaring at Gaskar as if he'd just cut off his own hand. He watches the whip clutter to the ground and then looks back up at the half-orc. He turns to Praetor, still glaring to ensure the implication sinks in.
Praetor frowns back at him and looks to the other Pathfinders, still hopeful for a good showing.
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Ki Chin draws his sword and enters the basic form of the Flying Heavenly Sword style he recites several facts he knows about the arcane arts and planar dangers as he moves through the forms. Gradually increasing his speed going from practicing his forms to sparring an imaginary foe, his left hand glowing with power. He makes to cast a spell and with several quick movements he ends with what would be a disarming move. He slowly stands up and sheathes his sword before giving a bow.
Praetor chuckles as Sereia eyes him. He vaguely recognizes what she's doing from his years in the field.
Hehe, you're not going to find anything magically interesting on me. I'm just an old soldier with simple, physical means. However, I know that's a useful skill to have! I used to keep someone like that nearby me when I was more... active.
He then turns to Lin Ki. Very nice form. If you ever tire of the travel, you can always join our ranks here, defending the miners. I'm glad to see there is a show of physical force in this group. Not too much, mind you, but it is necessary to have on hand amongst your other varied abilities.
Then the hissing starts... and Praetor makes a shocked, foul face at the ratfolk's abrupt display. He turns back to the others, softly remarking I think he, uh... needs a cleric?
"Is this supposed to make an impression?" Valacosti is quick to dismiss the display of power. "If you think this situation can be solved at the point of a sword or by brandishing some hedge wizardry, you’re as ignorant as your predecessor. These Pathfinders will rush headlong into the jungle and slaughter the kobold tribe, creating a power vacuum among the other tribes and only worsen this disaster."
Again, the praetor tries to remain impartial, though it is clear his patience is waning. "Once more I find myself seeing reason in Valacosti’s words. Strength of arms is all well and good, but this is a situation that also requires a certain amount of finesse. How do I know I trust you to handle this situation with a level head and a delicate touch when necessary?"
The Praetor seems a little caught off-guard at the question.
Well, I mean... potentially. It's more a process than a simple, on-the-spot declaration. Young frog-kind, I'm old enough that many friends have come and gone. The most important were the longest-lasting, and on day one I never knew that they would be.
Visibly frustrated, Valacosti appeals one last time to Sylien. "Praetor. I implore you, send these Pathfinders back from where they came from. This is neither the place nor the time for their presence. For the sake of the people of Fort Bandu, do not let them worsen this situation."
With reluctance, the praetor acknowledges the Pathfinders with a slow nod. Then, after a brief glance to Valacosti, he appears ready to make his decision.
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Pinesong shakes his head. "This is the place; this is the time. It's our responsibility and we will see it through. I feel it in the earth beneath my feet and the whispers on the wind -- we're meant to be here." He acknowledges Valacosti. "You may not trust the signs of the earth and trees, but I speak to the forces of nature every day. They've drawn me here for a purpose -- this purpose." He turns back to the Praetor. "Please allow us to answer the call."
Praetor cautions Lomo, "While dragons are impressive, and kobolds do bear a relation to them, they are very different things to deal with. Very impressive that you had dealings with a dragon though. I would like to hear more about that later."
He starts to look actually impressed as Pinesong explains his connection to nature, and Croak's croak seems to send pleasant shivers up his spine. "Now, you two, I'm starting to think may actually be very effective in the natural environs within which you'd have to work. You give me hope that you wouldn't just be another group of intruders, and actually be attuned to nature and the local tribes you might meet along the way."
With a reserved sigh, the praetor relents. "As the Pathfinders are responsible for getting us into this mess, I see it fitting that we give them the chance to remedy the situation. I’m putting my faith in you, and the lives of the people in Fort Bandu."
He seems to focus on Pinesong and Croak as he finishes this statement.
"I pray that you don’t betray that trust, for the consequences could be quite dire for all who call this home."
"Most unfortunate," Valacosti observes with disappointment that gives way to menacing resolve. "I believe you are making a grave mistake by placing any faith in these glorified tomb robbers, praetor. Once they fail, remember that the Aspis Consortium has extended a generous offer of aid in this troubling time. One can only hope that this Pathfinder experiment does not exacerbate the situation further and necessitate our renegotiating the terms."
After allowing the Aspis agent to storm out of the office, Praetor turns back to the Pathfinders and tells them what they originally came here for.
"Sharrowsmith’s last known whereabouts are the Gold Crown mining camp. Nobody here at the Fort knows where he may have gone after that. I suggest you pay the miners a visit, but don't expect a warm welcome." he warns with a slight frown.
Praetor then proceeds to provide trail directions to the group on a map on his desk.
With the information in-hand you have only to set out for the mining camp. The trail over the Bandu Hills is arid, open to the sun, and dusty. If you travel by day, you risk the effects of extreme heat (90-110F). If you wait until nightfall to set out, you travel in relatively cool night air but must use your orientation skills to stay on track and avoid getting lost in the hills and delayed to the mining camp.
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Pinesong smiles brightly. "Are you kidding? This is the best! It's not freezing -- for once -- and not wet. Yeah, this is great." He wiggles and dances around in the sun. "I'd like to travel during the day. I'll make you fans and sun hats out of palm leaves!"
Pinesong runs off to do just that, but he's horrible at making things. The fans are just leaves and the hats are leaves tied to your heads. He looks super proud.
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Croak gives it a think. "Thanks Pinesong, but I'd rather travel at night too, I think. I don't want to dry out! My skin is very sensitive, you know."
She lets Pinesong tie the leaf hat onto her head but it slips around on her head and falls right off! She tries to wear it anyway and puts it back on every time it falls.
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"Hmm... Travelling by night does seem to be the best course of action." Lomo says. "I'm confident we can find our way. Pinsesong and I are decent trackers and navigators. I think we've got this."
Lomo thanks Pinesong for the hat and fan, then immediately begins to nibble on the fan -- it disappears quickly.
The Pathfinders exit Praetor's office and stand just outside, deciding what to do next and when they should hit the trail.
Pinesong tries to check for light, heat-friendly clothing at the merchant stalls but he finds an icy reception at the few that he tries. It appears the population of Fort Bandu is really holding this grudge against the Pathfinders. All the more reason to go find Sharrowsmith, find out what happened, and prove that this attitude is unwarranted.
After a time it's decided that nighttime is the best time endure the miles of trail to the Gold Crown mining company's camp. After a time of rest, and after dinner-time, you all set out into the night. The air is as cool and breezy as you expected. However, the trail is faint under the dim light of the moon, and you must remain alert with your sense of direction to keep it.
With the half-orc navigating, the team has no trouble keeping the path overnight. The group decision turned out incredibly beneficial, as the harsh daytime heat requires constant effort to ward off. Instead you get an enjoyable hike, if still infested with bugs. If any wild creatures drew near, you didn't notice and they never attack.
After twenty miles you arrive at the entrance to a gorge in the shadow of sheer basalt cliffs, wherein the Gold Crown mining operation is located. You note the scent of decay clinging in the air in the gorge, even at the entry a ways back from the camp.
By the time you all reach the mining camp proper, the smell of decay is overwhelming.
Hexagonal basalt columns scarred by mining tools line the walls of the gorge. The floor of the gorge is a patchwork of scrub grass and leafless vegetation flattened by frequent traffic. Wooden scaffolding, mining equipment, and trampled tents lie abandoned across the camp. Corpses of laborers rent limb from limb lay amidst the camp’s wreckage, and dried blood darkens the rocks. Several banners depicting a golden crown adorn the scaffolding.
Two dozen corpses lie scattered across the camp, some picked apart by scavenging animals. Worse, a hideously malformed, hairless, pustule-covered corpse moves and snarls more like an undead hound than an undead man, hovering over one of the miner's bodies. Nearby, one of the miners has risen as a zombie! However, the undead miner seems to follow the undead hound around like a puppy, rather than the other way around.
They spot you immediately!
A festrog is an undead abomination spawned when a creature is killed by a massive release of negative energy (perhaps due to planar bleeding, the destruction of a potent artifact, or even certain magical attacks by powerful undead), and then mutilated by an outside force, such as the scavenging of wild animals. Sometimes called dog-ghouls for their ability to run on all fours, the name often causes opponents to misinterpret this creature’s abilities and grossly underestimate its intelligence, for the festrog is in fact a rather canny monstrosity.
Festrogs inhabit remote areas near places where they were slain. It’s not uncommon for a tribe of festrogs to share territories with ghouls. Most festrogs gather in small bands, based on whatever loose affiliations they might recall from when they were alive, and choose dwellings in sunless areas easily defended with group tactics. Like ghouls, they tend to skulk about graveyards, though they prefer ones with tombs and mausoleums so they can hide during the day. They hunt nocturnally in packs, preferring open areas like plains, farmlands, or open forests where they can track down prey with few places for it to run or hide. These packs wander semi-nomadically, often traveling miles beyond their dwellings in pursuit of mortal flesh.
In a supply shed across the camp, you hear voices crying out for help...
Croak
Pinesong
Sereia
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Blue
Red
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Lin Ki Chin
Lomo
Gaskar
Pinesong's holy water flies over the floor of the encampment and explodes squarely on the undead-doge, and some of it splashes onto the zombie.
A horrible, wretched groan starts to emit from each of the creatures, as they snarl at Pinesong.
The hound's groaning winds down, but clearly it's just getting ready to restart the noise-making when...
A large, javelin-sized spinter of wood flies at it and lodges itself in the hound's chest. It falls over, inert.
Sereia's blade seems to find the place where the splash of holy water has left a pit of decay, the undead flesh further withering away in a distinct pattern from the collateral. The zombie's groans only get louder, and its rotted breath intrudes into her face like a wet towel.
It jerks backwards, pulling off of her sword and swinging its arms down upon her.
Given the obvious motion to back up and get a healthy wind-up, Sereia sees it coming a mile away and steps inches to the side to let the stiff arms clumsily clatter by her.
Lin Ki Chin
Lomo
Gaskar
Croak
Pinesong
Sereia
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Blue (-8)
Red (-12)
As Gaskar passes by the lumbering zombie it swings its heavy stiff arms at him.
It slams into his gut as he rounds to the other side of the zombie, bruising his ribs pretty badly.
Not to be deterred, Gaskar winds up with his flail and hits the middle of the zombie's body, obliterating it and sending its appendages in all directions.
Continuing to hear screams from the shed across the encampment, the Pathfinders wander over to it to give the "all clear" signal. You see one bulging eye peeking out through wide gaps between the slats of the door. Clearly this shed was for equipment and not suited for shelter. It certainly wouldn't keep the weather out.
The eye looks vigilant at first, then seeing the vanara and grippli you can almost see the frown of confusion with the movement of the eyebrow. Then as you all come right up on the door it lights up in excitement and three dwarves slowly trudge out of the shed. They have limps indicating that they are not entirely well, and might have had trouble fending off the undead before securing this spot.
Hiyeee! the (apparent) leader exclaims. I'm Biggs, this is Wedge, and this is Foley. Each dwarf nods at you, in turn, as his name is called out. They all have brown and red dwarven beards kept and braided in a variety of patterns. Their faces are caked in dirt and soot from mining.
And who might you beeeeee? He glances briefly at Croak. You don't look like one of the local frogmen tribes.
Just then you detect an audible stomach growl from the other too - injured and famished.
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"Hi! We're Pathfinders! My name is Pinesong and this is Cutie Pie! And these others that haven't introduced themselves yet are Croak, Sereia, and Lomo. We came here looking for Sharrowsmith. Good thing we came by, hey?"
Suddenly, Pinesong frowns. "What happened here? So many lives lost, and yours nearly. I'm happy we could help you, at least."
Well met, all of you. Or... as well as can be expected. Two weeks ago we were attacked by kobolds. it appears that the bodies attracted... things. We barricaded ourselves in here as soon as it arrived, and after it fed for a time one of the bodies rose up. We've been in there a day and a half. Imagine if more of them had been zombified...
Biggs shudders visibly. He nods and smiles at each member that offers them food or water. Yes, that would be great. If we can simply eat, and maybe get bandaged up a little I think we could hike back to Fort Bandu on our own. This Sharrowsmith... I haven't met him but the word around the campfire is that he caused trouble with the kobolds that has led to these raids... He sneers, spitting to his side for effect.
After eating for a time, and asking you to look at their injuries they start to provide more useful information.
The kobold raiders kidnapped 10 or more members of our crew and marched them off deeper into the hills. We believe they have a major settlement there, we can mark it one your map. That's the best I can give you for finding Sharrowsmith. If you do find him, and he hasn't been killed by kobolds, make sure to clonk his bonker for us! We had steady jobs before this mess!
They're able to provide you with functional directions, and after a time bid you farewell, heading through the gorge that you'd arrive through.
It's a fifteen-mile journey from the Gold Crown mining camp, taking you on a long and treacherous route through the wilds of the Bandu Hills.
Without trails to guide you, you'll need to again utilize your survival skills.
Because you set out at night before, it’s now day, but the heat is less severe than the previous day.
Gaskar shows the team what making a trail in the wild means. Along the way he takes the time to teach the others the signs he's looking for: the sides of the trees that moss grows on, the direction that flocks of birds are flying, and other non-obvious tidbits that he's built up over the years.
Despite the heat, Gaskar is able to keep up his spirits and avoid ill effects of the heat, but he still sweats along with everyone else.