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You arrive at the lodge in Iceferry where you are met by Venture Captain Bjersig Torrsen, his friendly dog Mahki, and the gnomish Pathfinder Lirall. "Please, sit by the fire and warm yourselves." Bjersig Torrsen gestures as he removes his thick gloves. Lirall sits beside Bjersig as Mahki turns happily through the group before settling in front of the hearth, ears still perked and tail wagging across the rug.
Bjersig is a self-assured half-orc, dressed in a thick wool tunic, hide pants and furred boots. He speaks occasionally but primarily signs, punctuating some words with particular expression in his face and emphasis with his hands. Lirall, the gnome, steps in to interpret the signs for you. Bjersig has worked exhaustively to develop a variant of Pathfinder sign language that communicates more information than the basic commands of the existing system and has incorporated a number of new signs, as well as a distinct grammatical structure and syntax borrowed from a lingua franca spoken between some early Varki and Ulfen traders, creating a sort of pidgin. Bjersig prefers this method of communication and has helped some of his neighbors learn the particulars of it, but Lirall remains on hand for those unfamiliar with it.
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, his words interpreted as necessary through Lirall, the gnome sitting beside him. “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.”
Elfinno and Flikk are aware of previous years winners called tehBluetongue’s
Brawlers. This sticks out in their memory beause of the fact that the Brawlers competed the first day of the race in the nude, and afterward all members were treated for frostbite.
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Makai after landing in the Iceferry went straight to Torag church. The female dwarf wrapped herself in her coat as she trudged through the snow. Not knowing the local language was a problem but she knew that her symbol of Trudd is frequently enough mistaken for Torags one, and her cleric robes even underneath the breastplate are easy to recognize.
On her back, she was wearing a backpack and a steel shield on top, on her belt she carried a Warhammer her deity favorite weapon. Her long brown hair was covered in snow when she got to the church.
There she prayed and warmed a bit, after talking with her brethren in a dwarven language she ate and found her way to the Pathfinder Lodge.
Makai is a 5 foot tall dwarf with a stern look and a hard facial expression, her smile could be warm, her eyes are deep brown color. She is wide in shoulders and her handshake is firm. Looking at the others she nods and says.
"My name is Makai Goldenoak, from the Goldenoak clan in Highhelm."
Then she takes a seat close to the fire, putting her hammer in front of her.
"So you want us to participate in some race? What values are appreciated during the race, is only the winner cherished, or are some other ways of gaining honor during the race?"
Makai shared disdain for races, all her upbringing she was taught that haste is not your friend and precision and high quality are way more important than anything. Running towards a finish line seems like a foolish way to compete. But she keeps it to herself
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Hornbori bows to Makai, acknowledging her position as the honored priestess of Torag. He then nods to the others as he rests the bottom of his enormous shield on the ground beside him. "I also hail from mighty Highhelm, where I was formerly with the city guards. I am Hornbori, son of Mjothvitnir. We dwarves are built for endurance, not speed, but this sounds like a long race where we might do very well."
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While still bundled appropriately for the weather, Qigiq seems unusually unbothered by the cold. He can often be caught with his hood down, smiling as the wind whips across his beardless face and tousles his black hair.
The eratuki watches and listens to Bjersig's instructions. "I will try my best," he says with a solemn expression and then turns to investigate the maps provided.
"Other than the weather, is this trek known to pass through linnorm or troll territory or the land of other dangerous folk?"
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Flikk arrives in Iceferry slightly green in the gills, more so than your average goblin. "Flikk STILL hate boats.. but this boat better than last boat.. less bumpy and less pukey..." He gripes to the others as they make their way into town. He walks with his bed roll wrapped around his shoulders and a definite chill rattling his teeth.
One of the stouter goblins you'll ever meet, dressed in sleek new scale mail with a fine short sword on his hip, something he's happy to boast about "Pathfinder friends pay Flikk real good after lousy boat n wagon ride. He only so happy to give back those golds for this magical sword n flappy dragon armor!" He flicks the scales up over and over, very proud. Jei'Balt not here.. must have gotten on other boat!
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He watches how the Dwarves stand and present themselves at the meeting with Torrsen, knowing Dwarves are a well thought of race, even if they'd always been so mean to goblins like him. He stands straight and keeps his thick chest puffed out, nodding and stroking his nonexistent beard. His focus is continually thrown off though by the presence of Mahki the dog. Sometimes he gives him a stern stare, wanting to show he isn't afraid of the obviously terrifying creature. Flikk could take giant white snow dog... Flikk not scared.. much.
Finally he speaks up "So Flikk thinks he has this figured out... you want us to have this friendly race with other groups but you not think we win? We just trying to make friends with the other teams and not be last?" He asks, slightly offended but he understands politics.
"So how long this road go for? We have wagons? We have maps, food, taverns along the way?" He checks off some fingers as he goes, making sure they are going to be well prepared.
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There is an audible rustling of leaves and chainmail armor as a walking plant comes shambling into the lodge. You assume it's a plant from the broad leaves that peak out from the furs wrapped around most of it. Given the size of the leaves, it is clearly not from around here. Maybe it could be a gnome druid dressed for the weather, but why would a gnome be wearing a pumpkin over its head? If it were, then how did its smile just get wider. It raises its hands in a gesture of greeting, knotty stumps for fingers and clusters of gangly vines that support their weight. It opens it mouth to speak, the sound that issues forth is an unholy cacophony, with both bone-chillingly deep reverberations and skin- crawlingly shrill shrieks.
"Ḩ̩̪͊̓̿elļ̲͈̿̇͗̇͢o ̛͓̗̽L̩̲͉̮̣͛͛͋̀͑ĕ͍̟̎̒͜ṣ̢͚̠̎̾̿̔ḩ̨̱̹͌̒̐̇́͜ys̯͍̎̑.͔͉̍̽ ̯̻͆̔ ͍͊M̡̫̓̍̍͜ẙ̧̛̜ ̣̎̏ͅṇ͖͍̋̂̂ą̤̲͙̹̎̒̀̕͘m̖̼͗̃e̲̱̍̈́ ̟͎̣͐̌̔ĩ̧͖̠̀̐s͎̗̦̰̀͒̒͋ ̣̭͛͡S̬̒Q̮̳̬̼̔̽̈́̈Ű͎͕̝̑̄͜͝A̼͋S̳̺̱͉̀̋̚͝H͚̚.̠͇͐̈͐ͅ ͕͆ ̧̼̫̳͛͗͝͞Ni͍̅c̖̺̍̕e̹̬͐̆ t̜̞͇̅͑̆ô͎̗͔̯̥̓̏̆͡ ̫̽m̢̹͔̮̓̀͘͠e̡͖̗͆̈̒e̖̪̔̀t̠̐̈͟ ͓̚y͓̮̩͑̉̇o̡͇̤̓̿͘ů͍.̳̽̍͜ "
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Elfino sits quietly in a shadowy corner with his hood up; his features are shrouded in darkness and hard to make out. He watches with interest as his soon-to-be companions arrive at the lodge one at a time. He'd arrived a few days earlier to get the lay of the land, but the weather was so cold that he'd spent most of that time in the warmth of the lodge.
Once the Venture Captain arrives and asks them to gather around, Elfino rises and joins the others. He is a tall but slight male humanoid figure dressed in a long black hooded coat. His height and the way he moves suggests a human, but that misconception is quickly dispelled when he lifts the hood and lets it drop onto his back. You find yourself face-to-face with an albino elf.
You are a little unsettled as a pair of clear red eyes stare back at you with preternatural stillness from a clean shaven face whose skin is the color and smoothness of polished alabaster. A close-cropped mop of snow-white hair does nothing to hide his pointed elven ears. By human standards he seems young but when he introduces himself, it is with a weary tone that belies his apparent age. Those who have not heard Elfino speak before usually expect to hear the refined and cultured diction for which elves are known. They are quite surprised when instead, they hear the rough and uncouth vernacular of the Puddles emerge from his lips.
"Elfino's de name n detectin' is ma racket, uh... I mean trade. Dunno whut I'm doin' 'ere in dis frozen 'ellscape, but I'll do ma bit ta make shur de society comes out ahead."
Elfino looks over his teammates and sizes them up. They were quite a mixed bag; dwarves, a goblin, even a leshy of all things. He and the Erutaki towered over the rest of them by a good foot or more. Yes indeed; this was going to be interesting.
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"So you want us to participate in some race? What values are appreciated during the race, is only the winner cherished, or are some other ways of gaining honor during the race?"
“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. Evidently there are some that objected to our entrance into the race this year, though I’m not sure if there is any reason for it beyond misplaced pride.”
“The winner gains the honor of having competed and bested their
opponents, a place at the head of the post-trek feast table, and a
token from the officials. The token is particularly special. Most winners redeem their token with their king in place of land taxes for the year, but it entitles the winner to a number of things such as preferential rooms at inns across the Saga Lands and preferential treatment at Ulfen trading posts. It would be a nice thing for a Pathfinder agent to have, but our real goal here is to observe and document the Balgirdtrek.”
"Other than the weather, is this trek known to pass through linnorm or troll territory or the land of other dangerous folk?"
“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. SHouldn't be any trolls around the area to worry much about.”"So Flikk thinks he has this figured out... you want us to have this friendly race with other groups but you not think we win? We just trying to make friends with the other teams and not be last?" He asks, slightly offended but he understands politics.
"So how long this road go for? We have wagons? We have maps, food, taverns along the way?"
"Correct, you must complete the course within four days. If you’re any later than that, the officials will send out parties to retrieve you and you’ll be officially disqualified. Please do your best to avoid getting lost out there. Don’t do anything to injure your competitors, though this should of course go without saying. Don’t try to bypass any of the checkpoints, they are there not only for the trials, but to make sure that you and your team are well enough to continue on."
"You’re welcome to advance as far as you can in a day, but the officials don’t want anyone traveling after dark. If you find yourself at a checkpoint near sunset, they may ask you to stay. I’d heed their advice. It’s easy enough for some of the more dangerous things that stalk the tundra to slip by the rangers patrolling the trails under the cover of darkness.”
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"Once you are ready to go there is a sleigh outside waiting for you." There are five other teams competing in the Balgirdtrek. These teams are split between two sleighs with room for your team to fit in the trailing sleigh.
Two bright, open-topped sleighs wait along the side of the street, adorned with ribbons and cedar boughs. The driver of the second sleigh hops down, waving the group over. He instructs the team to move to the rear of the cart and assists with boarding. Inside, two groups sit, anxious for the sleighs to get moving. At the far end of the cart, several Ulfen rangers and a cleric glower, sighing before mumbling to one another.
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Qigiq heads to the rear of the sleigh and stows his own backpack and spear. He climbs into the sleigh and takes a seat. The Eretuki watches the other trekkers with a passive expression while they glower. Once they turn their attention away, he smiles and says, "May Pulura watch over you during the race. I am Qigiq from Hasanaliat. From where do you hail?"
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During the introductions, Makai eyed the goblin and sized him up with the stair.
"It is Flikk right? Your sword and armor seem to be of good quality, not commonly seen amongst the choices of your people. Who made them for you, it wasn't a goblin weapon maker, was it? Maybe a human blacksmith?" It does not miss your attention that Makai did not use the word blacksmith when referring to Goblin tradesman.
When Squash showed up Makai was puzzled. She never saw such a being and needed some time to get used to him.
Before jumping onto the wagons the dwarf leaves to a store to buy some winter clothing. She noticed that her breastplate does not help in cold weather.
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Elfino gathers his equipment and tightens his new winter clothing around him to ward off the cold. When he'd first arrived in Iceferry, he'd bought a nice set of matching black furs which he now wore under his cloak. They took the hard edge off the cold, but his lean elvish frame was not good at holding in the warmth, and he could not seem to shake off the chill in his bones.
He grits his teeth and heads out the lodge, taking his place on one of the waiting sleighs. No sooner does he step outside that he can feel the cold starting to gnaw its way into his body.
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Flikk nods at the other Pathfinders as they introduce themselves, trying not to say much out loud but his inner head voice doing lots of talking.
How come they not scared of the big white dog? Its ferocious looking! Big teeth and slobbery face! RAWRRFF!
His gaze passes over Hornbori, Qigiq, and Makai quickly. Wonder what they think of working with a proud goblin like Flikk.. must make them nervous!
Is no one finding a Squash named Squash funny? His eyes skitter between the rest of the group, and not one person seems phased at what must be a costume. Flikk getting worried now these ones not as wise as Flikk, guess Flikk will have to help uncover trick later.
The last arrival Elfino raises the hairs in Flikk's ears, both in sight and sound. That Elf need more sun, or more fire. Skin look weird. Talk funny for an Elf.. but Flikk used to that talk back in Absalom in mushy town.
"It is Flikk right? Your sword and armor seem to be of good quality, not commonly seen amongst the choices of your people. Who made them for you, it wasn't a goblin weapon maker, was it? Maybe a human blacksmith?" It does not miss your attention that Makai did not use the word blacksmith when referring to Goblin tradesman.
"Flikk a professional, cultured goblin of Absalom Pathfinder Clan." He professes, liberalizing the use of 'clan' a bit to connect with the Dwarven woman. "Sword and armor made by the finest of fine crafters in all of city special for Flikk. Society thought he do so well in his missions he deserved the best." He nods to himself in agreement, a definite tell of someone being less than truthful. "Who make your hammer?" He asks politely.
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Seeing everyone buying warmer clothes has Flikk in agreement "Maybe that bag of coins has some extras with Flikk's name on them? For fuzzy Ugg boots and furry rimmed goosy coat?" He gives a peek.
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Once everyone's shopping is done Flikk inspects the sleigh, mostly curious to see what exactly is pulling it. Probably more of those tasty nag horsies. Flikk help take down one of them horse men not long ago, he not scared!
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Hornbori watches the interactions, but says little. <Hobgolins are ugly sadists most of the time,> he thinks, <but they make good weapons and know how to use them.>
As for the leshy, he'd met them before, too. Only those were wild and violent, so he reserved his judgment as to this one. <If I can learn to work with elves, I can learn to work with hobgoblins and leshies. Maybe.>
Having already told the group he was from Highhelm, the dwarf does not answer Qigiq and assume the question is directed to the others.
Hornbori is more interested in the sleigh and he examines the carriage and runners carefully, considering the joinery and overall workmanship. Grunting in satisfaction, he clambers heavily aboard and sits toward the front so he will be able to see with all these tall folk about.
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While he waits in the sleigh, Elfino thinks back to when he overheard some Ulfen locals going on about the Bluetongue’s Brawlers, winners of last year's race. He shivers at the thought of being nude out in this weather for a single second, let alone a whole day. He asks himself if the Pathfinders have any chance of prevailing against such insane devotion.
He keeps an eye and an ear on his fellow Ulfen passengers in case they do or say anything of interest; he wonders if they belong to one of the other teams. He really hopes the sleigh starts moving soon; before the cold does away with him once and for all.
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The glowering participants at the end of the cart are members of Without Trace or Fail, they answer Qigiq quite tersely. What do you know of the Shimmering Maiden?" The team looks over your new furs and climbing equipment. "You sure you are going to need all of that? Might slow you down." They give a slight chuckle.
The starting area cleared for the Balgirdtrek in Kalsgard 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 are greeted by cheers and applause as the sleighs pull up to the starting area. As each team disembarks from the sleigh, they are introduced to the crowd by the drivers of the sleighs.
"The Bluetongue Brawlers!" This team is made up of four burly Ulfen. "Fangs of the Remorhaz!" The Varki team chosen by
Nankou to compete. The team consists of twin hunters. They seem a little apprehensive towards the Ulfen.
"Two Houses!" This team is made up of two Ulfen couples. "Without Trace and Fail!" This group of three Ulfen rangers and their cleric companion has joined the competition in hopes to find themselves in the direct service of a linnorm king.
"Wyrding Wayfinders!" The aging but well-known champion, Faergim Axebinder has arrived at the Balgirdtrek with her two squires.
Just then the driver turns to your group. He leans into the wagon. "What's yer team's name?"
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Ḫ̘̏̅e̯̫̙͔͊͑̀̋͌͜l͚̬͛̀l̞̒o͓͕͋̕ Ļ̻͖̄̔̎̇͢es̖̕h͈͌y͉̤͕̦͑͌͌̇. ̹̺͇̬͒͌̆͠ ̧͕̲͇͖̔̋͊̄̔Ī̧'̨͍̦̞́̏̓̈́͜͡m̨̝͗̅̚͜ ̢̨̪͕́͛̒͠S͉͘Q̢̡̯͓͊̿̿̍U̘̝̿͡Ǎ̧S̻͋H̨͓̯̀̈́̏.̳̦̮͔͐̽͑̋ ̨͓͕͎̻͒̓̿̔͡ ̗͈͉̱̇̽̋̎͜͡W̟̼͓͂͌̑e̫̫̹̋̓̒'͍̪̖͚͌̑́͞r̤̤̰͆̊̐ë̜̦̀ ̨͎̰̾̿͐P̲̟̘̒͛̐ḁ͕̈̒t͍̓̂ͅhf̭̟̲̦͕̔̓̅͒͊i͇͇͗͋n̘̫͒̈́d̞́ẽ͇͎̇r͚̞̣͙̭̉͒̽̚͝s.̤̮̟̱̓̀̓͞
Apparently the idea of a team name was lost on the leshy. He didn't seem too bright.
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Despite the Ulfen team's apparent disdain, Qigiq remains undaunted. He responds to their terse question with his own sincerity. "On the snow fields where all is white or on the ice flows hunting seal, her constellations are all that can be trusted for navigation. Her mercies guide the lost back to their families. She of the Light of the Aurora are well regarded by my people, and I follow her edicts faithfully. So more than most!"
He continues a bit more reservedly and with a little bit of a sly bite at the end. "You may be right about our being slow--many Pathfinders are more accustomed to cities or caves than mountains and ice--but our first goal is to document our participation. Winning is far from our expectation. But some of use are used to the wild and ice. I, myself, recently sailed to wreck of the Shoreseeker, helped to slay the sea serpents nesting there, and brought Hlavard's body home to his kin. As well as Grehunde's relic."
As the Eretuki descends from the sleigh and is accosted by the driver, he offers a suggestion, "Pulura's Grace. She knows we will need it." He resists looking at any teammate in particular.
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"Who make your hammer?" He asks politely.
Makai smiles and raises her hammer with not much effort.
"I participated in making it, but the main blacksmith was my uncle. I got it from my clan after joining Trudd church."
She nods her head and leave the lodge hearing Flikk phrase.
================= In the slay
You sure you are going to need all of that? Might slow you down.
Makai gives them a stern look
"Thank you for your consideration. But if some extra gear slows you down you should grow stronger."
When leaving the slay and Quigiq suggests the name Makai wants to say something but decides against it. Simply nods her head "Pulura's Grace is a good name."
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Once they arrive at the starting area, Elfino acknowledges the cheers and applause by raising his hand and nodding, but otherwise ignores the crowds. Instead, he watches the other teams prepare with a practiced eye, hoping to pick up any pointers that might be of use... or weaknesses he might be able to exploit. He ignores their taunts. He knows that they are merely words intended to undermine their resolve. Any hostile reaction from the Pathfinders, or a response in kind, would merely confirm the case.
He pondered Torrsen's injunction against interfering with the other teams. Was the half-orc completely serious, or was it more in the way of a just don't get caught situation. He reviewed the earlier conversation with the venture-captain in his mind and decided that, no, the half-orc had been serious about the non-interference. Elfino wondered if the other teams were under similar constraints; he suspected not.
Looking over their competitors, it was clear that they were all more or less formed from the same brawn over brains mold. He wondered if this was because it was hard to find intelligent Ulfen willing to endure such a race, or if previous teams that had favored intellect over brutishness had met with disaster. He hoped the prior was the case, because otherwise they were in serious trouble.
Elfino does not greatly care what their team is named, but he'd found that the simplest solution usually worked best. So when Squash suggests Pathfinders as the name of the team, and Hornbori goes along, the elf nods along in agreement. "Aye. Dat is whut we are. De Pathfinders works fer me." He knew little of religion, but knew better than to rely on the capricious nature of the fickle gods to achieve success in any endeavor.
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"Oh an uncle helped, that's good. Flikk have lots of uncles. Err had. Goblin uncles not have long life, maybe Flikk change that." He grins.
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Flikk rides in the sleigh with a mixture of wonder and apprehension, his facial expressions shift constantly between the two. "Sure is lots of snow up here and trees with pointy leaves. They not good for bathroom time." He winces at the memory of his tricks played on him in his youth. Tricks that never got to be played more than once...
His mood changes quickly though as they arrive at almost a makeshift town. For a moment it reminds him of home, back in Absalom: makeshift tents, wagons, hawkers, buyers, and ADORING FANS! He quickly stands from his spot in the back of the sleigh, waving his hands high and hooting and hollering. "All these people here to see us win?! This so exciting!"
When asked about a team name though he freezes for a second, his brain sputtering as it processes the names the others suggest. All he can think to do is mash them all together and blurt them out in one long word.
He blurts out to the crowd, not having any sort of clue what that means. "And Flikk!" He adds at the end for a bit of shameless self promotion, shrugging to the others. "Someone gotta be group promoter right?"
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The driver looks at each of you as a different name comes from each. A fe even mashing the two names together so the driver just goes with it as he needs to call one out. "And last we have the Pulura's Graced Pathfinders!" The crowd cheers though a few of the Ulfen's roll their eyes and make sneering gestures.
As you exit the sleigh you receive 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 recommended supplies you should procure before the race begins.
The Officials see you looking over the list. "That is mostly optional but I would greatly think about at least getting those winter clothes, tent, and a hatchet. It can get very cold out there."
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He looks at the list, looks at his teammates, and then looks at the list again. Having most of the recommended gear, he hands the list to Makai. "I am going to speak with some of the other trekkers to see if they will share their wisdom. Come find me if anyone needs help with the shopping."
Qigiq heads off to find the Bluetongue Brawlers. "Is it true that you ran last year's race naked? That would be a feat few of the bravest of my tribe would attempt. But maybe it is warmer this far south."
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Flikk bounces up against Makai accidentally a few times as he tries to read the list. "Hrmm, Flikk have healy kit, 50 feets of rope, and stuff for fixing tarps.. not gonna go through that again!" He chuckles to himself slowly before getting angry at the memories.
"We need to bring own food? Flikk eat a lot of food... and need warmer clothes... and tent be good, keep rain away when we sleep." He looks around to see if anyone has a hatchet hanging on their belts.
Once they figure out just what they need for supplies Flikk offers to do the shopping. "Or Flikk talk to the other teams, they like Flikk I bet.."
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Elfino looks over Makai's shoulder at the list and muses out loud. "'Mmm. Let's see 'ere. Winter clothes? Done! Tents? Dere are six of us, so we should each get ourselves a pup tent; Qigiq already 'as one, so dat's five we need. N 'atchet, ok. Rations? Pretty shur we 'ave dat covered already. Repair and 'ealer's kits? Ditto. 100 feet of rope? Qigiq n our climbin' kits should take care of dat."
He pauses for breath before finishing. "Sooo, let's see now... Looks like we're doin' pretty good. We're short five pup tents n n 'atchet, total cost? About 44 silver. I 'ope de promised coin purse stretches ta cover all dat."
"OK den. I'm off ta do some shoppin'. Anyone interested in joinin' me? Anyone?"
He then heads over to the nearby merchant's stalls to procure the missing equipment.
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Hornbori buys all that stuff. He has no fear of being weighted down.
winter clothes
tent
hatchet
rations
healer's kit
100 feet of hemp rope
repair kit
"Squash," says Hornbori, tentatively. "We should coordinate healing strategies. I am a medic by training, but not an herbalist. It sounds as though you can cover the herbal side of things. Perhaps you'd like to concentrate on remedies rather than healing draughts?"
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Makai holds the list and feels Flikk jumping up and down trying to see it. She lowered the list she saw an albino elf almost crouching to also have a look.
"That looks interesting."
Makai glances through the list and then passes it to Elfino to read at his own paste.
"It seems that healing tools are common. I have one too, just like the repair kit. I definitely need a tent. I will go with you Elfino and help to carry the gear."
"Maybe the rest should talk with the other team. And someone should go with Flikk..." she looks at the goblin
"He has such charming personality that it is good for the others to know that he is one of ours." The dwarf does not say that she is more concerned that Flikk will get himself into some kind of trouble.
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Flikk grabs up a handful of coins from the pouch before Hornbori takes off "Flikk buy some warm clothes, a tent thing, and food too. Maybe hatchet a good idea?" He wanders off in the direction of the vendors.
After making the necessary purchases (small tent, winter clothes, hatchet, and a LOT of food) he stuffs his pack full and wanders over to meet some of the other teams, starting with the Fangs of the Remorhaz.
Flikk offers up a handshake to the Varki twins, stopping a moment to do a double take as he realizes they look the same. "Woah! Hi, I'm Flikk. Ready for the big race? We hear this your first time racing just like us. If you get in a spot n need help just ask." Flikk spends some time getting to know the team and trying to get on their good side.
He doesn't get the sense they like goblins much though...
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Flikk rushes off to collect his equipment as he meets up with the merchant. He hears a lovely tale about the race a few years back. Apparently a former team of lycanthropes almost won the Balgirdtrek many years ago, but miscalculated the phases of the moon and had to be rescued after stumbling through the forest in the middle of the night without any torches.
Just as he is getting to the good part of the story the small goblin runs into the Fangs of the Remorhaz team. The twins smile and wave him over. "Hey, there you look like you could use a little help." They bend down and graciously offer to help look over all over Flikk's equipment to make sure it is secured properly. "Looks like you have everything. This should probably go here and here unless you need it quickly."
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Qigiq ends up running into the Bluetongue Brawlers as he runs into them stretching. "Pathfinders eh!? You know what we should make this interesting. What say we join teams? Make this a real challenge and we will carry you on our shoulders the whole way!" The group seems quite pleasant and looks to up their ante from running the first day nude.
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Qigiq laughs at the suggestion and looks around for his dwarven companions. "That would be a challenge, but I fear we would all be delayed as Makai and Hornboir argued with you about there it would be better if they carried you. I will send them your way and we shall see. Pulura guide your path."
He departs with a smile and looks for the dwarves. "You should go speak with the Bluetongue Brawlers. They have a proposition. It does not involve racing in the nude."
Noting that Flikk is speaking with the Varki team, as curious as he is, he leaves the goblin to it and seeks out the Two Houses. "May the path be safe. But not too easy!" Qigiq greets the two Ulfen families. "My name is Qigiq on the Pathfinder team. Have you raced the Balgirdtrek before? Do you have any advice for a new trekker?"
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The Bluetongue Brawlers go back to planning an extravagant and over the top challenge for themselves to make the competition more exciting. Qigiq leaves the tea to their own machinations and gets roped into a quick conversation with Two Houses. The couples turn and introduce themselves. "Good to meet you Qigiq." The man's tongue rolls uncomfortably with the foreign name. "I am Steen, this is my wife Unn and that is Leif and Oluf." He motions to the other couple. "We have done the Balgirdtrek before." They smile warmly to each other. "This is sort of a joint anniversary celebration. This is our fifth year now. We spend most of the trip talking about the past."
Leif grows a bit serious as he leans in. "Did I overhear you earlier say you brought Hlavard's body home? I ask because I am a descendant of Hlavard's. If there is anything we can do to help you let me know."
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Makai comes back with some of the equipment that they got and nods to Quigiq.
Turning to Hornboir "Come Hornboir, let us see who carry whom."
She makes her way to Bluetongue Brawlers and says
"I am Makai Goldenoak and this is Hornboir son of Mjothvitnir. I've heard that you wanted to carry us through the race?" she looks at them
"You seem a bit skinny, I am certain that you could carry Flikk, it is the goblin of ours, you know child size with big ears." she chuckles a bit
"So what is it with this running naked?"
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Flikk nods along, appreciating the helpful pointers. It becomes quickly apparent that Flikk has no practical woodsman skills. He also has little patience for learning new things that are difficult to figure out. "Ok Flikk go now, got more teams to meet!" He bounces off to find another group to talk to.
He approaches the older woman and her squires with a smile and a handful of jerky "Hey there, I'm Flikk of Pathfinders. I like your team name, you Pathfinders too?"
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Makai approaches the Bluetongue brawlers about the challenge. Their smiles beam ear to ear. "We just like a good challenge. If your bodies can handle it then why not try!"
Flikk thanks the twins before running off to cajole with the Wyrding Wayfinders. She seems a bit indifferent about the whole conversation. "We have no association with the Pathfinders, despite what our name suggests." She nods down at the wayfinder symbolism. “You think those little things are
the only way to find where you are going? Pah! You are certainly very brave for taking on this challenge.”
Just then the signal blares for the teams to begin making their way to the starting lines.
A cold, strong wind begins to whip through the area as it begins to storm. The Bluetongue Brawlers cheer as Leif looks over. "Going to be a rough start I see."
The teams are asked to gather at the starting line, which is a thick-braided rope with wooden handholds at either end carved in the shape of a linnorm head. The officials wait until the previous year’s winners, Without Trace or Fail, gives the signal that all teams are ready before dropping the rope and blowing a horn!
Squash
Qigiq
Elfino
Makai Goldenoak
Flikk
Hornbori
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Elfino returns from his shopping run and hands out the tents to his colleagues, giving the hatchet to Hornburi. While he's at it, he looks through the pack they received. He takes the climbing kit, vouchers, flint & steel, signal whistle, and one of the minor healing potions for himself. Holding the other two out, he asks, "Who wants one of dese? Goin', goin'..."
"... gone!"
He watches as the more gregarious members of his team go off to interact with the other teams. He is reluctant to join them; not only because he was generally a loner and liked it that way; but also because he'd found that his appearance and demeanor seemed to put strangers off and made them more suspicious toward him.
He is happy when the race finally begins and he can concentrate on the matter at hand. He spends some time examining the map and making mental notes that should help him find his way to the first checkpoint of the race.
Elfino then uses his survival instincts and orienteering skills to find the easiest way to the first checkpoint.
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Hornbori is neither fast nor knowledgeable in nature. What he does have is strength and dogged determination to outlast all others. He plods forward, his big shield strapped across his back like a turtle's shell, but the shield proves as much a hindrance as anything else, for the wind blows it back like a sail.
"Blasted wind! This is why we dwarves prefer to remain underground!"