A Pathfinder Society Scenario designed for levels 1–4 (subtiers 1–2 and 3–4).
Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen has set out the call for a group of Pathfinders to compete in a race known as the Balgirdtrek. Taking place in the Land of the Linnorm Kings, this race is an annual event that includes participants from both the Varki and Ulfen people of the region. Bjersig hopes that by having the PCs participate, they might not only bolster the Society's reputation in the Saga Lands, but also document this exciting event. Although the Society has the organizers' official permission, some of the Ulfen competitors in particular see the Pathfinders' participation as an intrusion on their time-honored pastime. The true challenge of this race is not monsters or villains, but the harsh nature of the grueling marathon itself.
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The short and unhooded traveller wrapped in furs stands at the Kalsgard wharf, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the capital of the Land of the Linnorm Kings. She sighs happily, recalling her successful mission here a few months ago - it must be the reason that the Venture-Captain called for her return! Orla Pfeffenpfoffer plops her knapsack heavily on the greased, stout wood leading from her ship, turning to wave a merry farewell to the crew of the Narwhal.
"I sure hope that Errol gets someone to take at look at those sores while he's in port," she says to herself. Hefting her pack back on her shoulder, the halfling peers up at the mid-afternoon sky, grimaces, and pulls her hood forward, setting out towards the Iceferry district and the Pathfinder Lodge therein.
You make your way to the frozen Land of the Linnorm Kings -- a return trip for some of you who remember your earlier quest here -- to gather in the town of Iceferry at the behest of Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen.
You arrive at the lodge where you are greeted by friendly dog, who happily weaves through your legs, before seeming to guide you deeper into the lodge, where a handsome half-orc dressed in a thick wool tunic, hide pants and furred boots stands. He gestures to seats by the roaring fire that swiftly helps remove any lingering chills from your travel before removing his thick gloves. A gnome sits beside the man -- who you recognize as Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen -- soon joined by the dog, who settles in front of the hearth, ears still perked and tail wagging across the rug.
"This is Mahki," he says, gesturing with his hands before falling silent and letting his sign language convey his words. The gnome, who introduces herself as Lirall, steps in to interpret the signs.
Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen sits upright in his chair, waiting until he is certain he has the attention of everyone in attendance. “Thank you all for coming," he signs. “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.”
Mahki punctuates the end of Bjersig's speech with a single, happy bark, as the Venture-Captain waits to see if you have any questions for him.
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A lanky goblin sits through the briefing surprisingly quietly. He wears simple brown worker's clothes without armor, and large patches of his skin are an angry red, as if he tried to hug a fire elemental. Only when Bjersig is done speaking does he start to chatter.
"Racing? In the cold? Thought I did good on the last mission, what gives? It's too cold now even, dunno if long walks make that better or worse." The goblin swishes his hands through the air in distress. "Sorry. Few real questions, though. How'd this Nankou guy kill a linnorm by himself? And how'd you get 'em to let another team in, anyway? Don't see why they'd do it."
"Oh yeah, forgot to introduce myself. Sorry. Name's Nurten." Nurten addresses all Pathfinders present, but is facing Mahki.
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Opposite sides to Nurten is a young half-elven woman. She is on the small size even for a human but moves with elven grace.
Dark skinned with medium length white hair in double cornrow braids, she had thanked the guiding dog before removing her brand new heavy fur overcoat and chapka:
»Thank you, my furry friend. This was nice of you to bring me here. »
Under the furs, she is wearing worn out leathers and boots, but the pack she drops at her feet as well as the weapons she bears seem to be just barely older than the coat.
Noticing all the other assembled in the room, she awkwardly nods to all, removes the half-length black mesh veil that covers only her eyes and silently sits on one heels,the other leg extended in front of her and listens attentively to the Venture Captain and his translator.
After a few seconds of silence from the others, she raises her hand tentatively, then drops it down as she realizes she is out of training now and silently thanks the gods that her skin tone masks her blushing.
»Uh, sorry to ask, but… « Her tone falters.. »Oh I’m sorry, I did not introduce myself. I am Elanna Elthiel. Ah, and this is my first kind of mission, I guess. »
»Ah Captain, please. If this is a recurring event. Do we know anything about the past winners ? Are they known and are some of them in the race again ?
She cocks her head, trying to formulate her next point: »And if the Varki are in the race for the first time, won’t some Ulfen teams make it a little more than friendly, like trying to prevent the Varki team from winning? Do you want us to keep an eye on that as well ? And… oh, »
She puts a hand in front of her mouth, then removes it quickly as she understands that she is preventing the Captain from reading her lips. »Sorry, that is a lot of questions, I should let the other speak as well. And my instructor said I should not say sorry as much... Sorry. »
While she waits for the answers, Elanna tries to figure out if she recalls anything about the race.
"Have I ever head of this race? There was something this storyteller said when he was talking about his travels. I think it was in High Reaches, two winters before I left with Helmuth."
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A tall, human man accompanied by a dog approaches the lodge. He's dressed in worn leathers and a little bit unkempt, but has a smile for those who look his way. Similarly, the dog appears friendly and well cared for.
Outside the lodge, he introduces himself to the other Pathfinders.
'lo, I'm Anders. This here is Snirt. Looks like we'll be working together and I'm sure it's my pleasure.
Inside, Snirt reacts excitedly to Mahki. Anders tell the dog to "be good."
To Torrsen he says, Good to see ya again, venture-captain. This race sounds like a good bit of fun. Thanks for thinking of us.
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Already dressed in blue woollen clothing lined with fur, Orla Pfeffenpfoffer ("Feffen-foffer", she explained to you all when you met outside the lodge) cradles a mug of a warm beverage - as provided by the lodge - in both of her hands as she focuses on the Venture-Captain and listens to the briefing. She occasionally glances at some of the gathered Pathfinders, openly trying to gauge their talents and place their names in her memory. When she inevitably catches an eye, she rewards it with her second-best smile.
It is good to be among friends-to-be.
As the briefing draws to a close, Orla puts her hand and awaits someone to acknowledge her before asking a question.
"What kind of a race is it, Venture-Captain? I'm not exactly fleet-of-foot in the snow, so unless the Varki and Ulfen teams plan on giving us a head start...?"
"Nankou's story is a sad one," Bjersig signs, punctuating some words with particular expression in his face and emphasis with his hands.
He spins a tale, about how on the day Nankou was born, his tribe was slaughtered by a taiga linnorm. His mother managed to flee and survive giving birth to him. Over many decades, Nankou built his reputation among all Varki tribes. Born to a dead tribe and raised by the elders of all tribes, he was welcome everywhere, and repaid everyone's hospitality in kind through hunting monsters, delivering news to isolated tribes, or serving as a mediator between his people and the Ulfen. Eventually, he returned to the taiga where he was born and, with his bear companion, sought out the linnorm that slaughtered his tribe so long ago. Both Nankou and his bear, T'kamo, lost an eye, along with T'kamo's foreclaw; in the end, after claiming the linnorm's head, Nankou declared himself linnorm king of Icemark.
Mahki punctuates the story with a few barks of his own, seeming thrilled that everyone is paying so much attention to him, though he continually checks in with Bjersig to make sure the venture-captain doesn't need him.
As others ask questions, Bjersig turns his attention to them, greeting Elanna and welcoming her to the Pathfinders. "I'm sure you will be a fine agent."
Answering his questions, he shakes his head. "I do not know what teams will be participating, but it's certainly possible some will have competed before."
You think you remember hearing about a team of four Ulfens, three men and a women, that call themselves Without Trace or Fail who have competed before, but unfortunately they got lost in a storm and didn't do well.
"As for trouble, well, I have heard the others are excited about the Varki joining. The Balgirdtrek is competitive, but this is a race, not a blood sport. It isn’t unusual for some of the teams to rib one another and there is some history of minor brawls between rivals, but that is not activity befitting the Society’s first team and I expect you to remain above such behavior. Honestly, I fear there are more objections to our entrance into the race this year, though I’m not sure if there is any reason for it beyond misplaced pride.”
He laughs at Orla's comment.
"It is no mere dash, so I don't think that should be a problem. It usually takes several days, though they'll send someone to find you if you haven't finished after four. There are trials you will face on the course. They vary from year to year, but there are some favorites that return frequently. You’ll have to cross the Whitegold River about halfway through the race. That task in and of itself has long been used as one of the trials. In general, the trials will test your strength, wits or will in some way related to the journey of Balgird."
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Elanna nods and raises her hand again before speaking.
"You know, I’ve heard of the race before. I can’t remember when it was. Maybe on my way here or back at home up in the Kodars." she says, her arm extending to indicate a south-eastern direction.
"They were talking about a group that participated. Those without Trace of Fail, they were called. Ulfen, three men and a woman. And I heard they got lost in a storm and did not do well. That’s all I recall, sorry. I should have paid more attention."
She shrugs and smiles. ”I’m not sure that’s useful. Imagine using that as an icebreaker: Hey, I’ve heard of you. Hundreds of miles away, people are still talking about how you screwed up and got lost."
She turns to her fellow Pathfinders. ”Do you think we need more gear? I’ve never been so far north but some of you have ?”
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Orla laughs at the Venture-Captain's words, but comes right back to her question.
"That's interesting, Venture-Captain, but I don't think you understand my question: what KIND of a race is it? A boat race? A three-legged race? Do we pick the fastest person amongst us in snowshoes and they will race? What are we racing with?"
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A Caldaru man quietly approaches the group, wearing armour decorated with the symbol of Sarenrae.
"Sorry, I can see I'm a bit late," he says meekly, with a sigh, "I stopped for a moment for a prayer, and lost track of time. I am Sonna, I believe I am your sixth."
He takes a spot beside the others. "A 200 mile race? That sounds exciting."
Bjersig nods at Anders.
"Yes, you are expected to travel, as a team, under your own power -- as Balgird Bluetongue did. There will be challenges and trials you must accomplish along the way, but the weather will be the greatest foe you should face along the way. In winter, temperatures can change quickly, and storms are not infrequent occurrences. Aside from that, the trail should be clear of any dangerous wildlife. Be wary nonetheless. With the trail cut to accommodate the new route, there may be a few more animals on the trek than usual.
"Now, do you have any other questions? If not, the sleighs will leave soon to carry you to the starting point, and you do not want to miss those."
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"Hope not," Nurten replies. He nods at Mahki, as if to apologize. "This dog good. Or at least fine. Met it before, has uses, doesn't tear up goblins. Others probably do, 'specially without anyone to vouch against."
"S'pose we should go. Any more questions I can think of, hopefully the people there can answer if they're friendly like you said."
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Sonna shrugs at Orla's question, "'Under your own power' sounds like a foot race to me. Not that I'd be against a few dogs to speed the way."
He nods in agreement with Nurten, and takes a warm coat out of his pack and quickly puts it on, sensing they are close to leaving the warmth of the lodge. Unless we need to pick up some supplies, we should make our way to the sleighs."
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"No," the venture-captain says. "Though some racers may have dogs with them, or even use them with sleds, most go on foot."
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The door to the lodge creaks open, allowing a momentary draft of chill air to flutter the flames of the open hearth. A pale newcomer with cultured Varisian features stands dressed in an explorer's outfit and a heavy fur robe, shaking the snow from his boots and unshouldering a heavy pack and crossbow which he leaves by the wall before closing the open door.
"Hello there..." he offers a hopeful greeting, "Elien Psirec, at your service. I do hope I've got the right place. Is this the Pathfinder Lodge? If so, my apologies for being late. I swear they gave me directions at the docks, but I'm afraid I lost my way when I discovered a bit of gillweed growing near the shore and had to investigate. Fascinating flora this far north...not something you'd find vary far down the south...but I digress..."
Elien edges further into the meeting room, his eyes moving from one potential Pathfinder colleague to another before returning to the presumed Venture-Captain and his dog. He reaches into a pouch at his belt and presents a scroll for consideration. "My bonafides, as they are..." he explains, "My mentor in Ustalav sent this letter, explaining my involvement in the mission. Honestly, I thought they'd have me looking into more dire situations involving the Eye of Dread, but seeing as I've only recently joined the Society by way of some like-minded brethren in Caliphas, I'm sure they wish to have me prove myself. And what better way to do that, than by ingratiating ourselves with the Ulfen and Varki people while participating in a cultural phenomenon like the Balgirdtrek?"
The talkative man seems to have no regard for how much oxygen he sucks up in the room. And, while Bjersig takes a moment to review the proffered letter, Elien looks once more at his presumed companions. "Excellent. I see all of you...well, most of you, I suppose...have already prepared yourselves for the elements. Luckily, we're not fully into a northern winter just yet. I did a bit of research ahead of joining the expedition, using whatever books we had in the library back home. Fascinating opportunities should await us on the tundra. And, of course, I'm ready to defer to any of you with actual experience in these climes. Ustalav gets its fair share of wintry weather now and then, but nothing quite as expansive as these lands."
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"So it's going to be a race on sixteen feet for all of us. I can do that."
The young half-elf raises from her squatting position, stretches and smiles a the last two comers.
"Well met, I'm Elanna Elthiel. I'm good to go as soon as we are done talking. Sorry, one last check on the way. Is every one stocked on food or do we need to do a last stop?"
She fusses with her pack, tightening everything up, checking that her compass is in working order and ambles to the door.
"Thanks for the mission Captain, we'll try to come back with as many toes as we left."
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"I can create water enough to fill our canteens and skins each day, but I confess that I don't have any trail rations on me," Orla inserts after Elanna's question. "I'd be much obliged if we could look into those before we leave. Captain, are snowshoes race-legal for those of us who don't do well with sinking into the snow?"
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"I got food. Not sure how good it'll keep in the cold. Maybe nice Ulfen will give more to their honored guests?"
Nurten chafes at Elien's words, waving his hands like an annoyed child. "Warm clothes, fine. I'll wear 'em on the trail, not before. If I wanted to get crushed there's somebody's shiny chainmail in my Absalom bunk."
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Anders nods at the newcomers. Welcome. Seems we've got ourselves a full team, now, I'd say. He seems a little amused at Elien's verbosity.
Yeah, I'll need to stop for some warmer clothing myself. Had some last time we were up this way, but they got full of Steaming Sea water and never smelt right afterwards.
Elien, unfortunately you can't recall anything more specific about the race or its history at the moment. You do notice that many of the shops in the city seem to be closed, and there seems to be fewer people than you'd expect. That's explained a moment later as Bjersig explains that you don't have much time before the sleighs leave to carry you to the starting point, but you should have time to make any purchases there you'd like.
"I'm told a small market springs up every year in Frostgarten, as people head to see the racers off, and apparently many merchants in Kalsgard are trying to take advantage of the situation," he explains.
He smiles at Orla.
"The snow shouldn't be that deep that you should need them, but if you wish, then, yes, they are fine to wear," he says.
You head out, where you find two sleighs waiting to carry you to the starting post. The first sleigh is already full: The Varki team, three humans, and a half-orc, sit together waiting for the remaining seats to be taken by an aging human woman with a younger female halfling and human man, and another human woman accompanying her.
The second sleigh holds a powerfully built Ulfen man in his early fifties, someone you guess is his adult son based on their similar appearances, and an Ulfen woman and man. They watch as you approach, but your attention is soon taken by a pair of Ulfen couples, a woman and man, and a pair of men. One of the latter seems to have a moment of recognition as several of you near the sleigh.
"You're the Pathfinders, right? My name is Leif. I owe you a debt. I'm a descendant of Hlavard, and can't thank you enough for recovering his gorget!" He introduces the man with him as his husband, Oluf, and the other couple as Steen and Unn. "We're the Two Houses. That's our team name, every year. Maybe Year No. 5 will be lucky? What about you, have you picked out a team name yet?"
You can't help but notice that the other people on the sleigh are noticeably less excited than Leif and his team to have you join them. They edge away, which might normally seem like they were making room, but in this case looks more like they've smelled something bad.
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"Hah! Wonderful!" Elien exclaims upon seeing the sleighs, "We have these in Ustalav for the heavy winters, but they go unused during the warm season. I imagine they see use here year-round, no?" He gazes about with fascination at the Ulfen and Varki teams, noting the various ways they've chosen to cope with the conditions. To the rest of his team, he offers some additional commentary. "I've been studying up on the natural conditions of the north just in case any of it might prove useful on our trek. Of course, I'll always defer to you wilderness types to safely guide us, but if there's anything I might recall, I'll be happy to share it as we proceed."
GM Note:
While Elien is unfamiliar with the gorget that Leif describes, he listens carefully to the man's explanation and nods along. Inwardly, he's happy that the Pathfinder team is already on friendly terms with at least some of their competitors. But then Leif's question about team names confuses him for a moment. "Oh? Are we supposed to have a nom de guerre as it were? Something fierce, perhaps? Like the Snowtroopers? Or the Mighty Icewalkers? Or maybe just...the Pathfinders? Heavens above, if we go with the latter, we'd better not get lost out there or we'll never live it down. Talk about trying to make a good first impression..."
"Speaking of which..." Elien lowers his voice so only his companions can hear him after Leif departs. "It appears we may be off on bad footing with some of these folks. They're a bit surly looking. Like some of them have been chewing on lemons and then puckered up into a sourpuss. We may have our work cut out for us if we're going to win the hearts and minds of the locals. Those of us with a bit more skill in diplomacy might want to strike up a few conversations on the way to see if we can improve their opinion of us..."
To that end, Elien boldly strides up to one of the sleighs and chooses a seat next to one of the other Ulfen competitors. "Good day, sir! If this seat's not taken, I hope you don't mind a bit of company. I daresay all of this is rather new to me, but I hear several of you have been doing this event for years. It's quite impressive really...the tale of Balgird Bluetongue...traveling all that way to slay a tarn linnorm. That's an heroic deed if ever I've heard one. In fact, your lands seem to be teeming with such stout-hearted folk. I've no doubt you have the heart of a hero, as well, no?"
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Good to meet ya, Leif. And it was our pleasure. Happy to have helped out you and yours. Haven't put much thought to a team name. Suppose we could do with one.
Anders listens to Elien's suggestions. Well, I'm sure any of those'll do.
He looks as if he's going to reply to Elien's observations about the other teams, but Elien's off before he can fully collect his thoughts.
He looks down at Snirt. Not sure we can keep up with that fellow in the words department. Not sure anyone can.
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Sonna smiles as Leif introduces himself, and nods in agreement with Anders, "Yes, it was a pleasure. Recovering that gorget was actually my first assignment as a pathfinder."
He ponders Elien's suggestions for a moment, before adding, "As much as I like the Mighty Icewalkers, I don't know how comfortable I am keeping the glory for ourselves. 'The Pathfinders' gives that glory back to the lodge..." he pauses, realizing how prideful that sounds, "... if we win."
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"I had to write down a summary report for the ones who got that gorget. It was awful. The job sounded fun, 'cept for the cold."
Nurten doesn't sounds too enthused by team names, but puts in his suggestion. "Maybe put something that sounds good in front of us Pathfinders? Mighty Pathfinders, or Soaring Society. Eh, those both sound bad. How much're people gonna pay attention?"
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Elanna follows Elien lead and sits herself on the sleigh close to the unknown group of Ulfen. Listening to the banter about the team name, she puts her 5 coppers in :
"And what about the Trailfinders or the Trailtamers. Maybe we could add our number before. Something like the Seven Trailfinders ?"
She then turns to the four unnamed Ulfen that Elien just addressed : "Sorry, would you all be the team known as Without Trace or Fail. I heard of this team on my way here and wondered if they were going to participate again."
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Orla acknowledges Leif.
"I was very pleased to be a part of that adventure, Master Leif. I am Orla Pfeffenpfoffer. May your hearth always be warm. Do you have any suggestions for us about this race? I'm not fleet-of-foot, so any suggestions you might make to not embarrass myself would be grand."
Orla giggles as she comes up with a humorous team name. "The Frostfurs!"
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Orla acknowledges Leif.
"I was very pleased to be a part of that adventure, Master Leif. I am Orla Pfeffenpfoffer. May your hearth always be warm. Do you have any suggestions for us about this race? I'm not fleet-of-foot, so any suggestions you might make to not embarrass myself would be grand."
Orla giggles as she comes up with a humorous team name. "The Frostfur Friends!"
The Ulfens in Without Trace or Fail edge away as Elien and Elanna sit near them. They may be just making room for you in the sled ... or they're trying to keep some space.
Still, the oldest of the four reply. "Of course we will be participating again. We have trained relentlessly for the race ahead, adopting a strict diet of mostly foraged hard grasses and berries, dried fish, and a lightly fermented mead. If you haven't done the same, you won't have the stamina or mental fortitude for this. You might as well give up now before you sully this race even more!"
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Fortunately, the other end of the sleigh, with the Two Houses, are much more friendly, and happy to answer questions.
"It's not just speed, but stamina. I don't know if you've heard the tale of the remorhaz and the arctic hare, but it's like that. You might think the former would simply devour the latter, but it was so busy trying to eat everything, the arctic hare got away with all its fur!
[b]"Stay at a checkpoint overnight if you finish near one," Leif suggests. "They'll give you some supplies before you set out. Don't waste them, but don't hoard them either. Not everyone on your team has to do every trial, as long as one or two of you can -- sometimes it may be better to not try than it is to mess up. Otherwise, just use your commonsense and you should be fine."
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"Of course we will be participating again. We have trained relentlessly for the race ahead, adopting a strict diet of mostly foraged hard grasses and berries, dried fish, and a lightly fermented mead. If you haven't done the same, you won't have the stamina or mental fortitude for this. You might as well give up now before you sully this race even more!"
"Duly noted. I believe we'll take our chances, just the same..." Elien responds with a disarming smile to the surly Ulfen on his rather regimented eating regimen. When Leif speaks up at the other end of the sleigh, Elien turns his head to look back at the more helpful competitor. "I rather like the idea of that tale. A remorhaz chasing an arctic hare. Although the former would clearly have more strength and ferocity, the latter's natural camouflage and outright speed could very well see it to safety long before becoming a meal."
He listens to the advice on checkpoints and nods. "No hoarding indeed. The lighter we travel, the faster we travel. I wonder how many checkpoints there'll be..." His final words are muttered more for Elanna's benefit sitting next to him. "Bjersig said it was 200 miles. If we're on foot, that's bound to be several days. Maybe there's a checkpoint campsite available at each stop? If not, we may have to put up our own shelter a time or two."
He regards the half-elf more fully. "My apologies that we didn't have more time to get to know one another before leaving the lodge. I'm Elien...a bit of a scholar and adventurer from Lepidstadt in Ustalav's Vieland county near the border with the Hold of Belkzen. More recently, I left the university there to set up shop in the capital, studying various artifacts newly arrived from Osirion. Some fascinating items to be sure, but then all the trouble with the Whispering Tyrant erupted...quite literally, of course...and it's got everyone on edge. That's around the time I joined the Society, so I'm more of a newly-minted Pathfinder as it were. How about you? How long have you been traipsing about on these missions for the Decemvirate?"
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Elanna's eyes widen : "Ustalav, you say. I've never been there. I head tales and got the grand geography course at the society down in Absalom but that's about it. Is it as bad as they say it is?"
She puts her veil back on as the sun clears the clouds and the intense light reflects on the snow.
"Sorry for that, my eyes are a little sensitive to strong light. A... a gift from my... mother", she says with a hesitant tone.
There's a pause and the sad smile turns a little brighter when she speaks again: "I'm maybe even newer than you in the society. I'm just out of training and that's my first mission. My folks are from the Kodar mountains just south of here. My father's village is on the southern slopes and my mother's tribe travels through the caves under them. I met a Pathfinder there and left with him three years ago to get trained. I trained as a scout and I'm used to navigating outside and I'll do my best not to get us lost. But from what I understand, Anders should a also be well experienced with that. We will be fine."
"Have you ever been here before? This is the first time I'm going that north or even anywhere outside my home ranges or Absalom."
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"What sorta trials did they have earlier? Or can you not say?" Nurten asks Leif as the other Pathfinders start talking among themselves. "They probably aren't the same this time, but maybe it could help to know."
Without any other questions, the goblin heedlessly inserts himself into the other conversation during a lull. "I'm pretty new too. Done some little tasks around the Inner Sea so far. Surprised they'd send so many of us on something important like this. But I'm from Numeria! Not as bad as it sounds; we lived outside some big city, don't remember the name, having fun and hauling big scrap." His face falls slightly. "Then some Pathfinders came through and thought I was some sort of genius with all the skymetal! I just played with it for fun, sometimes it yelled at me. But I went along with them so they wouldn't be disappointed."
"Maybe I would've let 'em down if I knew I was getting carted off to Absalom to sit in classrooms for three whole years! That's a good chunk of goblin time. But now that's over with, might as well try having fun with this."
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"Ustalav, you say. I've never been there. I head tales and got the grand geography course at the society down in Absalom but that's about it. Is it as bad as they say it is?"
"Bad?! Why my dear, we have an enlightened culture in Ustalav every bit as sophisticated as any other civilization of the Inner Sea. My alma mater, the Lepidstadt University, for instance, is quite renowned for advances in philosophy, engineering, and alchemy. I dabble a bit in the latter myself...even aced my final exam. Made my parents quite proud, actually. They were a bit less happy about me moving to Caliphas, but I found kindred spirits there in safeguarding our lands against the return of the Tar-Baphon. I'm hoping my further association with the Pathfinders will help with that, as well."
She puts her veil back on as the sun clears the clouds and the intense light reflects on the snow. "Sorry for that, my eyes are a little sensitive to strong light. A...a gift from my...mother", she says with a hesitant tone.
"Ah, no worries. I expect we'll all have troubles with that once we're on the Balgirdtrek. And I imagine I'll need spectacles one day as my eyes go bad from so much reading in the dim light of the libraries back home. I much prefer taking the books with me so I can read in the courtyard, but the librarian always gives me the sternest look when I walk outside with them. As if I don't have a proper appreciation for preserving the written words of our ancestors. What nonsense! They have no better champion than me in that regard. History must be preserved so we can learn from it and reference it when needed."
There's a pause and the sad smile turns a little brighter when she speaks again: "I'm maybe even newer than you in the society. I'm just out of training and that's my first mission. My folks are from the Kodar mountains just south of here. My father's village is on the southern slopes and my mother's tribe travels through the caves under them. I met a Pathfinder there and left with him three years ago to get trained. I trained as a scout and I'm used to navigating outside and I'll do my best not to get us lost. But from what I understand, Anders should a also be well experienced with that. We will be fine....Have you ever been here before? This is the first time I'm going that north or even anywhere outside my home ranges or Absalom."
"It's my first mission, as well...and no, I've never been to the Land of the Linnorm Kings before. I'm hoping to broaden my experience with visits to as many places on Golarion, as possible. So, this should prove quite fascinating...and just the first step of many, I hope."
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Orla listens to her party introduce themselves. She inserts her words when there's a break in the conversation.
"I can't say that I've ever been to Ustalav, the Kodar range, or Numeria, but I've heard about all of them. I'm from Cheliax originally, but Absalom more recently. I used to be a housemaid, but with the emancipation I had to find a new line of...well, work!" She laughs mirthlessly at the comment.
"I'm a dual devotee of Desna and Pulura; their luck has granted me opportunities galore to take my talents so many places already in my short time with the Society. I was in the Finadar Forest just a few months back; I don't think I ever dreamed of seeing somewhere as far-removed as that! Oh, and yes, I was part of a mission here in Kalsgard at the start of the year. That's why I jumped at the chance to come back."
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"Oh, another person of faith!" Sonna comments after Orla finishes, "I'm a follower or Sarenrae myself. I spent some time in prison for some petty crimes back home in Senghor. Sarenrae guided me to the Pathfinders, and set me on a better path."
He looks around at each of his companions, thinking to himself how amusing it is that as a bunch of green pathfinders we're being sent of to spend a few days walking in the snow. "It looks like we're all pretty new to this. I've only been to the Crown of the World for some monster hunting, and then to look for that gorget for Lief's family." He glances as Elanna, "I'm not all that good at finding my way around out here, but if I do my job right, I'll at least be able to get between you and a wild animal or a blade."
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"University, books ?", Elenna pulls a face. "No, I was talking about the undeads, vampires and all that stuff. Plus the Tyrant... Yerk... All of that gives me the creeps"
She turns to Nurten : "I had to sit in those classes as well. Thanks Desna we had some field trips. I swear some days I just felt like a Callistran on a bad hair day, ready to sting anyone that came close."
"But we haven't settled on our team name. I like Olga's idea of the Frostfur Friends. That's a good omen for things to come. What do y'all think ?"
Leif and the other members of the Two Houses are happy to answer your questions, and chat throughout the sleigh ride. They explain that there are usually four checkpoints, with a trial at each.
"Oh, the trials change every year," Leif explains, "though usually there's one related to crossing the Whitegold River about halfway through the race. Mostly their tests of your strength, wits or will but to represent Balgird's journey."
He tells the tale of the Ulfen hero, and how for two months, he 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.
"Fortunately, they've never tried to make us deal with trolls ... or linnorms!" he finishes.
"Not yet, at least!" Oluf interjects.
"Maybe this year they will," Unn adds with a laugh. "I mean, lots of other changes already, so why not?"
As Elenna brings back up the team name, they fall quiet, letting you make that decision as the sleighs get closer to the starting point.
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The halfling giggles, but touches Elanna on the hand.
"My name is ORLA, Elanna. Orla."
Elanna blushes at Orla's reply "Sorry, I won't make the mistake again. I misremembered your name. Thanks for setting me right."
She reaches with her hand to let Snirt sniff it. "I'm all for having a mascot. You're going to help us during the race?", she asks the dog.
Your name decided on, the rest of the sleigh ride is mostly pleasant -- minus the coldness from Without Trace or Fail -- and you arrive at the starting area cleared for the Balgirdtrek in Kalsgard, which is bustling with activity. Merchants and traders hoping to support the race have set up stalls and carts to sell supplies and equipment to the teams. You're greeting with cheers and applause as the sleigh pulls up, and you can hear the driver of the other sleigh introducing several teams: Bluetongue’s Brawlers, Fangs of the Remorhaz, and the Wyrding Wayfinders.
When you disembark, the driver looks you over, and asks "Got a name?" He then announces you as the Frostfur Friends. You draw some cheers, though certainly not as many as many of the native teams. One of the race officials comes up and hand you a race pack containing three minor healing potions, a single climbing kit, vouchers for lodging in Frostgarten, flint and steel, a signal whistle, and a list of supplies you should procure before the race begins: winter clothes, tent, hatchet, rations, healer's kit, 100 feet of hemp rope, repair kit.
The officials tells you you have three hours until the race begins. "You all know all the rules too, right?" he doublechecks.
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"I trust the rest of you to gather the appropriate supplies to share among us and face the challenges ahead," Elien announces as he climbs down from the sleigh, "I'll see what I can learn from the race officials about the first leg of the race and report back. However, if one of you would like to accompany me in that endeavor, I'd welcome it..."
Elien looks around until he spots the same official who handed them the race pack. Rather than approach him immediately, he just observes for a bit to see who else he interacts with who might also be an organizer of the Balgirdtrek or at least someone who's knowledgeable about what might lie ahead. With that information in plain sight, he then mentally evaluates which of them seem the most affable and approachable.
"That one," he gestures, "They should do. Let's see what we can learn..."
"Excuse me," he begins, "I was wondering if you could help with something. I'm somewhat new to the Balgirdtrek this year and I was planning on following the route to the first checkpoint. However, I also understand there've been some changes from prior competitions, and I was wondering if you might help me understand the lay of the land, as it were. Is it clearly marked? Is there anything to watch out for...whether local predators, hazards, or navigation points to avoid getting lost? Anything you can share would be most welcome. And, I daresay I'd be happy to buy you a drink, if you can spare a bit of time and knowledge."
Elien then spares a coin or two to ply the potential informant with a few drinks, jotting down notes in a small book he keeps in a pouch. Once satisfied that he's gotten as much insight as possible, he bids them well and departs for the marketplace once more, intent on using at least some portion of the Society's funds to procure some better winter clothing for himself...even if it's just an extra set in the event he has trouble crossing the river along the way.
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Nurten follows along, trying to earn some favor with surprisingly edible-looking goblin food and naive questions. "This longshanks's got the good questions. But last time I was around here there were sea serpents. Seen any around? Really, they can't all stay in the biggest lakes all the time, and it'd be just my luck."
The goblin is more curious about the other teams than the race itself, and if he sees an opportunity to meet any more, he may branch off from Elien.