The door opens and you see the renowned Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng enter the meeting room.
He looks as if he did not have much sleep as he has a sleepy-eyed look on his face.
He has a violin and a meerschaum pipe in his hand and sets it on the table. He withdraws a small pouch from the slipper and opening it, removes some shag tobacco. He begins to pack the pipe with the tobacco before removing a hot poker from a fireplace in the room, touching it to the pipe bowl, and drawing on the pipe until the contents kindle an ember.
He stands eyeing the assembled group and puffing on the pipe for a long few moments before speaking.
"Well, well, so you are the team they sent here for this mission?! You look tough but are you the right people for this mission? You already heard that we are sending you to Highdelve, right?" he says with a stern look.
"First missions are usually less dangerous but our informant's reasons to ask for a team as well as the nature of the assignment were a little vague ..."
He eyes you again.
"I called you in tonight to discuss a problem I need you to solve." he says as clouds of pipe smoke drift lazily around his head.
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Evanora's long lean frame and smooth milky skin would be then envy of many a fair maiden. Unfortunately, it seems wasted on Evanora Alaenree, whos stooped posture and lack of warmth mars her physical appearance. Not to mention her questionable choice of animal companions.
"Trouble in Highdelve is there?" Evanora looks in Dreng's general direction as she poses this leading question before looking to her lizard/chicken pet and seems to be speaking to him in confidence, though no quieter. "Not that it has been mentioned to us, has it Snookums? Assuming too much, this one is. Why not just tell us?"
Evanora runs her hand down the spine of her Compsognathus lovingly as she looks around the room, taking in her companions.
Dreng nods at Evanora with a smile.
"Well, more than two centuries ago, the humans of House Garess flourished in the foothills of the Golushkin Mountains in western Brevoy, where they founded Highdelve as a settlement of human artisans to work the dwarven ore their allies supplied. However, as the years went on, House Garess’s numbers waned, and the noble family scaled its business back. By this time, thousands inhabited Highdelve."
He looks at you to see if you are still listening.
"Rather than languish under House Garess’s neglect, the Highdelvers began to focus on self-sufficiency. It built a robust economy and 50 years ago, the leaders of highdelve approached the patriarch of House Garess in Grayhaven roughly 20 miles south. It wasn’t full independence Highdelve wanted as much as a release from any major taxes and military duties the town might owe its feudal overlords. Not in the position to fight the Highdelvers, House Garess acquiesced. From that day, Highdelve has been independent in everything but the strictest formalities."
He pauses for a moment.
"Have you ever heard of Aurelliax?" he asks.
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Being so far north, winters are long and harsh. The short spring and summer seasons require the populace to farm and fish just enough to keep food on the table.
* * * Separate check * * *
You have heard the stories of Highdelve's history in more detail ... what the Highdelvers didn’t know, however, is that benevolent eyes had been watching the situation that the Venture-Captain described unfold.
The settlement piqued the interest of Aurelliax, a gold dragon who had lived for more than a century in a mountaintop lair near Highdelve.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The dragon admired the town’s tenacity, and its people’s generosity toward their neighbors warmed her kind heart. Shortly after Highdelve broke from House Garess, Aurelliax offer the humans her patronage and protection for free.
Elated and humbled, the townspeople accepted—provided that Aurelliax never involved herself in the settlement’s internal affairs. After all, the Highdelvers did not wish to simply trade one overlord for another. Her motivations genuine and pure, Aurelliax assented.
For the Highdelvers’ part, awe for Aurelliax quickly turned into true affection, as the dragon time and again has demonstrated her dedication to this settlement of about 4,500.
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Evanora gives Dreng a quick glance before looking way again. "Aurellix? No. No. It does not ring true, nor have I ever visited Highdelve. I, myself, tend to gravitate toward lower places." Evanora chuckles to herself that sounds as if it is bordering on transcending into a girly giggle. She obviously found her own joke to be more humorous than those around her.
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Talion is a man in his late 20s. He is tall, with dark hair and tanned skin. His weapons and armor indicate that the man has seen some amount of combat and would know how to handle himself in a fight, although there's nothing that would indicate who he fought for.
"I can't say that I'm familiar with Aurelliax, no. I've never been to Highdelve either. Sorry."
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A man in his early 30s standing by the wall. His masterworks breasplate gleams as well as his vermillion cloak with a green dragon rampant emblazoned upon it. At his back is a single edge longsword inside an ornate sheath, a kriegmesser or warknife to be precise. Perch on his shoulder is a golden brown hawk, her eyes dart the room, inspecting it.
The mention of Aurelliax didn’t ring any bell to Gunther. But he does know about Brevoy.
“I never heard of Aurelliax, but I do know about Brevoy. I passed by the country on my journey. It’s an old nation battered with war and conquered by tyrant after tyrant. Winter’s harsh over there, but thats just make the people hardier.”
Dreng raises an eyebrow.
"Aurelliax is a gold dragon who had lived for more than a century in a mountaintop lair near Highdelve and the dragon time and again has demonstrated her dedication to this settlement of about 4,500."
He pauses again.
"I do not want to go into the details of why a gold dragon would do that but I can assure you that we had a hand in that story. This was just background information because your mission actually concerns two kids. Well, they are young adults by now. RICHELLE AND TOLWIN are their names. They are not related but they are the kids of two deceased Pathfinders. We placed them under the protection of the mayor of Highdelve 17 summers ago - Winette Qarl is her name."
The Venture-Captain sighs and looks at his feet.
"We received a message that they are misbehaving. I have to admit that this mission is personal for me and I want you to check on them. They know nothing about their parents' history but if you can find out what is going on I would appreciate that."
He looks back into your eyes again and smokes his pipe, sending smoke into the air.
"Of course we would never send you to Highdelve just because of two kids ... this is just a coincidence that I am using to my own benefit." he laughs.
"During one of our other missions we learned of a plot againt Aurelliax. We do not know the details but we know that an agent of a cult of Kostchtchie, Gilda Korgren, traveled to Highdelve more than a year ago to craft a ring with special significance to the cult of Kostchtchie ... additionally, we learned about a Port Ice–based shipping company that is trying to track cargo that went missing between the port and Silverhall in southern Brevoy. We do know that the cargo included several Thassilonian relics that could also be of value to the Kostchtchie worshipper."
Born a mortal man of Ulfen stock before being cursed, Kostchtchie is now the demon lord of giants and biting cold.
Kostchtchie's main worshipers are giants who have turned from the worship of their traditional deities, particularly Thremyr, and instead embraced the demonic as being a more aggressive philosophy.
Dreng stops pacing long enough to knock some of the ashes out of his pipe and reload it with more tobacco.
"Go to Highdelve and see what you can find out!"
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A hunter-green half-orc sits slumped sideways on the table. His hair, black and kept back in a pony tail. His leather armor, worn in yet durable and dependable, woven in a lamellar fashion. Strapped around his chair, rests a large hammer with bone spikes affixed to both ends of its heads. A tattoo rises up from under his armor peaking ever so through his neckline, although its not enough to make out what it is.
The smell of tobacco seems to awaken Gnasher from his ale induced slumber. His head rises and he brushes the drool from around one of his tusks.
"What's this about? Babysitting a Dragon?"
He says pretending as though he were paying attention.
"No matter, anywhere is better than here. We shall go to Highdelve!"
He hits the table with a strong open palm as he stands up. His orc side begins to heat his blood for adventure.
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running his fingers through his neatly combed beard, he listened, not speaking throughout the whole affair as he had nothing to add, until the whole affair was laid forth.
right then, so sort out a few kids, figure out what some cultists are up to, feed them to the dragon, and go look for someones lost luggage with some knicknacks they picked up in Varisia. Alright, that sounds interesting enough. I've never seen a dragon before...Can't say I ever exactly wanted to either, to be honest"
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"A trifecta of a first mission. How ambitious! What happens, I wonder, if these 'kids' do not wish to return? Are we to subdue them, or merely inform you of their whereabouts? What are our instructions regarding these Kostchtchie? Are we to eliminate them, merely thwart their current efforts, or report their position? So many variables. So much trust placed to our judgement." Evanora hums lightly to herself after asking her questions, still running a finger down Snookums snout.
The Venture Captain smiles.
"Good questions. We do not know if the kids even know about their father's affiliation with us so do what you think is best based on your own judgement. The evil cult also can be dealt with as you see fit but you need to somehow inform Aureliax that we want to support ... we might need the dragon's help in the future. So yes, I trust in you!"
The VC nods with a smile again.
"I think you can continue your discussion on the road! Just so you know ... we know very little about Gilda Korgren. She is a human follower of a demonic god ... and we know that she has a son from a letter we were able to dispatch. But nothing else."
He looks at the whole group and tries to assess your level of comfort with this mission and continues.
"This is one of your first mission so be careful. Please make haste and travel to Highdelve."
With those words he turns his attention away from you, picks his violin up, opens the door and begins playing and walking out of the room simultaneously.
~
HIGHDELVE
It’s late when your caravan arrives in Highdelve.
Most of the travelers are only stopping for dinner before proceeding on to the next town, but you have a mission here, and so you remain when the wagons pull out again.
When you get to the inn you find it unusually crowded. The innkeeper only has one room available, what with the festival tomorrow.
If you’re willing to share, however, she has some cots she can set up and there should be room enough for the four of you. As you walk down into the common room for dinner, you find it, too, is more crowded than you would expect.
A four-top comes open right as you walk in, though, and almost as soon as you sit the waiter comes by with bowls of stew and mugs of ale for the four of you. You eat and have a chance to get to know your new comrades on this mission.
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Evanora seems to be comfortable with the lack of privacy. Maybe even a little too comfortable as she goes about her business.
"Yes, yes. We are very cozy comfy here. No need for anything special. Snookums here takes up very little room. Won't even know we're here. So many lovely people here. Any one of them could turn out to be a crazed demon worshiper or an aspiring goodly dragon killer! Very cozy comfy indeed." as she giggles at her own insights.
Evanora is concerned with this actually being three different missions rather than having one singular goal. She wonders if the group shouldn't choose one lead to try to sus out, and focus on it, until another lead might pop up. Perhaps the missing kids would be the easiest mark.
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If the lack of privacy and space bothered him, he kept it to himself. Remaining for the most part silent, and without much of an expression on his face, keeping his thoughts to himself, until he made up his mind about his companions at least. Although when the ale was brought forth he did show a bit of himself. Taking at first a careful sip, then a much longer one.
Oh, oh that's not bad at all. This little jaunt into the hinterlands might not be quite such a burden after all. I'll get the next round then. Might be a good chance to get to know a bit about each other too. Good drink makes for good stories, or so they say
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Gnasher walks with a heavy foot. When he sits at the table, the chair is felt with a force. Seeing the ale, he slams his balled fist next to the mug on the table in exclamation. The mug swivels almost toppling over, sloshing the ale around.
Now THATS service!
He says before grabbing the mug and swooping the swill. A large satisfying gasp of air shortly follows. Rubbing the ale that leaks out around his tusks with his arm, he sets his eyes on the bowl of stew. Gnasher doesn't appear to be showing restraint as he forgoes the spoon and proceeds straight into drink-eating the soup.
Eat... first... Search... later...
Breaking from the sounds of chew-slurping, Gnasher managers to get a few words out in-between his indulgence. Somehow though, despite his direct approach, there is some wisdom to his broken-food-speech.
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Smiling at each of her companions in turn, as if something is revealed to her and it's to her liking. "How good to be accompanied by such strong, able companions. I believe that I shall feel safe and protected whatever presents itself on this mission.". With that, she continues to eat and drink, with noticably more restraint than her half orc friend.
What ist he Brightbloom Jubilee?
During the first evening and your first hour on the jubilee you learn that the Brightbloom Jubilee is a 2-day party with a distinct structure of events.
Before the jubilee, the town elects two young locals to serve as Bloomgivers — an enormous honor for those chosen. Early on the celebration’s first day, the Bloomgivers venture with an empty wagon up nearby Dendra’s Slope, where the largest field of brightblooms grows.
The jubilee then runs throughout the day, and it includes a full slate of amusements, games, and festive street food, all set up in the town’s main Protectress Square.
In the afternoon, the Bloomgivers return to town with the first harvest of brightblooms, and the townspeople fete the youths’ journey by escorting them from the gates back to Protectress Square.
There, the Bloomgivers hand out brightblooms to eager townspeople. The rest of the evening is spent as a public dance party known as the Brightbloom Ball. The jubilee’s second day is spent alternately removing winterizing measures from the town’s buildings and breaking into spontaneous rounds of song and dance.
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"Oh, goood! A festival! Everyone loves a festival. We will have an opportunity to rub elbows with all of the local citizenry. I'm sure that they will be very enlightening to the town problems. I daresay, wouldn't it be romantic if the two Bloomgivers were the same two downtrodden teens we were sent to assist? Worth of an epic, that would be. I suppose we should do our best glean what we can from the populace while partaking in the amusements. Who knew we were going to be paid to party, eh?" Evanore continues with her facetious diatribe, but more quietly to Snookums, who is a very attentive listener.
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“Well, seems like we came at the right time, Festival and all. The food is quite good too.”
Said Gunther while he eats some barbecue and giving some bites for his hawk too.
“What about we hang around and ask people about the bloomgivers. If it is the two kids we search then we’ll just enjoy the festivities until they came back.”
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The mood is festive in the inn as the evening progresses. Eventually, weary from your travel, you head to bed.
The sun rises, and after a quiet breakfast, you emerge out into the town square. Beams of sunlight stream past the snow-capped mountains as a joyous scene spreads before you.
Overnight, the town's staid and utilitarian main square sprouted colorful tents, a pop-up theater, a spinning contraption made of barrel bottoms, some manner of race course, and more unexpected delights.
Laughter and boisterous shouts echo from all the square's corners as its quaint cobblestone streets teem with villagers sporting festive clothes and wide smiles.
Throughout it all, the smell of fried foods weaves through air laced with the warmth of a summer that's just begun.
Activities in view:
A1. Youths stand on and around tall wooden storage boxes, playing some sort of game.
A2. Lanes have been drawn and sack races are being run.
A3. A large, gilt statue of a dragon.
A4. A Barrel-Go-Round ride has been erected.
A5. A small puppet theater has gathered a crowd.
A6. A stand sells delicious-smelling fried food on sticks.
+++++++++++++++++++
Several well-dressed professionals stand in a circle bandying about the lingo of seasoned traders. “What a time to be visiting!” one shouts.
“It’s the best time to catch important people in one place. If you’ve any business to conduct in Highdelve, now’s the time for it, to be sure!”
A teenage boy pushes through the crowd with a star-struck look on his face.
“Have you seen her? Have you seen Aurelliax? You know, the gold dragon! The one who keeps the whole town safe! She’s here, but she never stays in one place for long. Everyone wants to talk to her, and she’s so nice—she wants to spend time with us all!”
* * *
For the past decade or so, the people of Highdelve have expressed some concern about sending their youthful Bloomgivers up Dendra’s Slope to collect brightblooms for several hours alone.
The brightbloom field is about an hour’s hike from the town proper, and the foothills are full of threats.
To quell their qualms, and to reinforce that Aurelliax would never suffer an outside threat to the town, the gold dragon has begun lending the Bloomgivers a special amulet called the Golden Pendant each year for their journey up the slope.
Not even the gold dragon has elaborated on exactly what the amulet can do, and she’s instructed the townspeople not to bother examining it much magically, but everyone knows that it’s a treasure that would make Abadar himself proud.
Two elderly women watch a group of adolescents giggle and shoot furtive glances toward the square’s western entrance.
“It warms this old granny’s heart to see those sweet kids,” one of the women says. “So young! So much energy! They just can’t wait for the Bloomgivers to come back from Dendra’s Slope so they can celebrate. But I wonder what’s keeping those Bloomgivers? They’ve usually returned by now!”
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The people he did talk to, didn't know much, or rather maybe they wouldn't say. Nor did he manage to glean information from overheard conversations. Who knew? Not Gnasher.
Gnasher pulls out his compass and compares its direction in relation to the mountains, in an attempt to give him an idea which way is north by using the mountains as a marker.
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Gnasher frowns and starts to feel his ears. Gauging their size with his hands and then looking to everyone's ears around him. He holds his arm out, peering through his thumb and index finger that he's using as an invisible ruler. His fingers are visibly seen unable to commit to a length.
With a sigh, Gnasher is seen giving up as his one track mind moves on to the thought of food. He makes his way over to the food stalls, hoping to find some fried fish.
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After learning from the elf that the dragon might well be out and about the town, he decided that would be his priority for the morning, although how you find a dragon, that didn't look like a dragon in a town full of total strangers didn't strike him as quite the easiest task. Did dragons like fried food? games? ale perhaps? Well for sure they liked ale, everyone liked ale...was it too early to get an ale?
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"Oh yes, I almost forgot, the two ladies down from the fishmonger mentioned that the Bloomgivers are running late returning from Dendra's Slow. If we don't go looking for these kids, then perhaps we play assume of these games while looking for 'our' kids. There seems to be a large number of youths around those barrels". She says, pointing to A1
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“We can ask those kids, they might now who our Bloomgivers are. If not they might still know the two kids we’re searching.”
Gunther walks to the youths playing in the barrels, hoping his friends would follow.
“Howdy kids, do you know who got to be the Bloomgivers this year?” He asks the kids in the barrels.
A1. Youths on crates
Gunther, Evanora and the group arrive at the storage boxes.
Tall wooden storage boxes are haphazardly arranged everywhere here except for a grouping of four, which form a diamond.
Rowdy youths pump their fists and cheer on four kids who each stand atop one of these boxes. The standing youths kick a bean-filled sack back and forth.
Each time a youth kicks the sack, they all shout a word of the following phrase: "The! Devil! Man! Knocks! Don' t! Let! Him! In!"
When Gunther asks his question the kids suddenly fall silent.
Upon picking the leaflet you see that it bears sketches of a scowling human boy and girl, each about 17, along with the following message.
“Be advised: Richelle and Tolwin, apprentices to Carth Garenth and Yarla Bowhammer, are not permitted at the jubilee. If seen, please turn them away from your events.”
One of the kids is a little shy when he sees Gunther's impressive form.
"They are no Bloomgivers! It is really sad."
The boy looks at Kebrin!
”Well ... Richelle and Tolwin cheated!" the boy says quitely and then he says a little louder than he should: "You know they rigged the bloomgivers election and therefore are not allowed to attend the festival!"
A teenage boy frowns and answers.
“Those two—it’s just such a shame,” he says. “I hate to say it, but they’re bullies. Always picking on other kids and even getting into fights. We don’t like them, and so we thought it was strange when they first counted the votes for this year’s Bloomgivers and they had won. We dug a little deeper, and it turns out that Richelle and Tolwin had stolen the ballot box, pulled out all the real votes, and replaced them with votes for themselves. To punish them, the mayor disinvited them from the jubilee today.”
A little girl approaches.
“I know the real bloomgivers! I mean Kameer and Kara! They should be here any moment! A little late ... I hope the devil man didn't do anything to them!” she says with fear in her eyes.
Two youths start laughing, though there’s a bit of fear evident in their eyes.
“We all saw him; he had skin as pale as a sheet and these freaky little horns!” a girl says.
“He was skulking around until the watch came and scared him away. Now people pretend like he was never here—don’t want to scare away visitors, I guess. Oops!”
The kids all shake their head.
"We do not know him. All is good I think. The mayor has everything under control." the teenage boy says.
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"Oh look! Sack races. You boys would surely like a go at that, wouldn't you? Maybe you could win us some more information!" Evanora giggles to herself at the thought of her companions sack racing. As they head that direction, She repeats what they have learned. "Richelle and Tolwin are not well liked, and not permitted at this festival. We should talk to Carth Garenth and Yarla Bowhammer, who they are apprenticed to, in order to dig up some more information on these troubled youths. Kameer and Kara are the Bloomgivers, and they are running a bit late apparently. I hope that our two delinquents are not responsible for their tardiness. No more information on our gold dragon friend or conniving cult as of yet." As they walk through the crowd, Evanora can be heard humming the tune of, 'The devil man knocks, don't let him in.'
A2. Sack Races
The cobblestones here are marked with four lanes drawn in chalk.
Two men and two women hop like mad in separate lanes, their legs covered with heavy burlap sacks. The crowd waves scarves and paper flowers in the air as they cheer the competitors toward the finish line.
The onlookers offer a respectful berth to a welldressed dwarven woman standing confidently at the finish, her hands on hips as if she’s overseeing the race.