The adventure begins outside the Pathfinder lodge in Olfden, one of the safest towns in Andoran's Darkmoon Vale.
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Malik arrived in the city of Olfden this morning by wagon. His journey from Absalom was long, but he was used to the trips the Pathfinder Society sent him on; it always gave him time to catch up on his reading. Among his meager possessions were a collection of texts covering various magical theory across the various traditions of magic. He wasn't very talented, but he was dedicated to his studies nevertheless. The darkness of his transportation was never much of an issue with his golden glowing eyes and minor light cantrip.
Once the wagon stops in Olfden, he gets off, pays the driver with coin from the Society, and heads to the Olfden Pathfinder Lodge.
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Hancock is irritated. He is usually irritated, but being in this peaceful town just exacerbates things. It doesn't help that he is only there because his manservant. Bruce, talked him into it. Bruce has a way of doing that. Unlike Hancock, Bruce has a flair with words and it was for that reason that Hancock hired him. Hancock, on the other hand, was blessed (as only he would think of it) with a severe speech impediment. He mumbles incoherently. Having recognized that this inability to communicate could cause issues, he sought out help at the society headquarters and they hooked him up with a man that specializes in speech impediments. Bruce was and is invaluable for anything from ordering breakfast to making sure Hancock's surly manners did not get them into trouble with the law.
But he is almost always cheerful. And that irritates Hancock. And now the insufferable optimist is making him visit some friends at the lodge. How exactly was he talked into this? Ah, yes! The potential for a nice violent mission. It would serve him right if the visit was cut short because the society actually did have need of his services again. The thought of that irony almost makes him smile.
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Mathilda hikes up to the Pathfinder Lodge after staying the night in one of the smaller inns in town. She has a pep in her step and is eating a pastry that she got from a local bakery.
She carries a greatsword strapped to her back that looks almost too large for someone of her small stature and age to hold. She also has on her person a handcrossbow as well as normal adventuring gear.
The Pathfinders find themselves in the streets of Olfden that bustle with activity as shopkeepers call out for attention, promising only the very best wares. In front of the Pathfinder lodge on the outskirts of town stands a statue of a woman wielding a blade and a wand, furiously battling a group of humanoid wolves. Several stone wolves lie dead at the statue’s base, but it’s clear the woman is being overwhelmed. As if to give voice to the fallen wolves, a chorus of deep barks echoes from a walled yard behind the lodge.
A random citizen of the town that has been looking at the statue shares something about it out of the blue. "Let me tell you something. You see that? That statue, he says while pointing at it, "depicts Luna Aldred, commemorating her for her role in saving Olfden 15 years ago. During an attack known as the Night of Silver Blood, it is well known that she single-handedly held off a force of werewolves just long enough for the town to defeat the larger army. She died of her wounds, but the high priest of Sarenrae raised her the next day as thanks for her heroism. When she returned to life, she found that she had gained some of the powers of the werewolves who attacked her without losing any clarity of mind. She tamed the wolves that remained in the town and created an animal sanctuary. Such a hero." he says with a smile before leaving and going somewhere.
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You see a young woman practically bouncing with barely contained energy. "Hi I'm Mathilda, but only my grandmother calls me that, everyone else calls me Mattie. I hail from Magnamar. My uncle used to be a Pathfinder, he told me all about his travels, so I have trained my whole life to be a Pathfinder too and have amazing adventures! It's really nice to meet you all, I hope whatever our mission is that we can work together and have a great time." She stops talking and takes a giant breath in.
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Hancock looks up in surprise from his slouch (which considering he is a dwarf, causes him to resemble a blob more than a person), wondering if the woman was talking to her. Fortunately, before he was forced to respond, another fellow joins in conversation. And, of course, so does Bruce.
Bruce: "Greetings fellow admirers. I am Bruce, and this is my illustrious and valiant employer Hancock. Excuse his shyness, he has not had his morning coffee yet."
Hancock: OK, enough with that 'shyness' crap. I am NOT shy. Why does he always refer to me as shy?
You can see the aforementioned Hancock glare at Bruce, who seems totally oblivious and blithely moves on.
Bruce: "And who may you be? Besides admirers of heroical figures, of course."
In contrast to Hancock, Bruce is a rather tall human, standing straight and well groomed. He turns his 10000 watt smile on Mathilda and Malik, obviously welcoming conversation and, perhaps, friendship.
"The power to talk down bloodthirsty hounds? Oh I'm certain that came in handy for her." One human woman approaches, her face covered in white ash. Her deep red studded leather armor ends in an extended hand for each of you. "Call me the Carnelian Signet. It's a pleasure to see you all."
She eyes Hancock. "Have we met before? Ah, never mind." She turns to her teammates. "Whom do we help first?"
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A solidly built half-orc in heavy plate armor walks up. His skin is a darkened, weathered green from extensive time in the sun and the faint smell of a hospital wafts from a bandolier strung across his chest.
A bit of silver and some well placed swings of your axe will settle them down.
You can call me Haka. I'm here to keep you on your feet.
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Hancock studiously ignores the chatterboxes and gives the statue a closer examination.
Bruce: "Don't mind him. He's actually not unfriendly once you get to know him. It's nice to meet you all. Particularly such a friendly young woman such as yourself, Ms. Signet. It's one of the things I love about the society. Such interesting people and so egalitarian."
Hancock: "Dowanngfdly"
Bruce: "Ah, the finely muscled dwarf would like to challenge you to some arm wrestling, Haka."
Hancock rolls his eyes, but he does look amenable to the idea.
Ms. Signet? That's a new one. She chuckles. "Hancock knows silence can be deadly. The strong silent types can go far." She places her left hand on the statue.
"Good to see you, Haka. Magical healing is more my style."
In the midst of the conversation, an assistant inside the lodge approaches and interrupts "Excuse me, the Venture-Captain is waiting for you inside. Please follow me." the assistant says and turns their back, hoping that the Pathfinders follow. As they enter the lodge, the Pathfinders can see that it is decorated with trophies from Luna’s adventuring days, as well as gifts from grateful townsfolk. Seeing them, Luna waves them into a homey reading room with an assortment of plush chairs and side tables haphazardly piled with books, where she awaits them. She’s an older woman with startling yellow eyes. It’s immediately clear to them that she’s the woman depicted in the statue outside.
Venture-Captain Luna Aldred sets down a steaming mug as she leans back in her chair. She smiles and gestures for everyone to find seats as she props her feet up on a padded stool and reaches down for her knitting. She looks like the picture of retirement, but a sword hilt and wand poke out of the basket of yarn at her side.
“Welcome to Silver Moon Sanctuary,” she says. “Olfden doesn’t see as much activity as some lodges, but I’m always happy to see agents. I recently learned a group of prospectors discovered an entrance to what may be an old dwarven ruin on Droskar’s Crag. It could be part of a much larger complex and may hold significant historical value.”
Her silver knitting needles click as she continues. “I’d like you to take a look, see what you can find. Oh! It’s probably not a surprise, but it sounds like you’ll be sticking your hand in the wolf’s jaws. The prospectors didn’t all make it back out.” Luna shakes her head sadly. “I couldn’t get many details of what happened—the survivor is pretty upset; I had to push a pocketful of gold on him and swear nobody would get hurt before he would draw a map—but maybe you’ll have more luck. He’s been staying down the street at the Silver Bulette inn, if you want to talk to him.”
She sets down her knitting and sits up, yellow eyes intense as she emphasizes her next words. “I don’t know how big this place is, so don’t go too deep. Explore as much as you can, but I don’t want to send a recovery team in a month just to find out you’ve followed some path to a fey party in the Vale. Clear out any threats and make a note of any tunnels leading deeper into the mountain, but save them for another expedition. All right?”
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She lives. Quietly, it seems.
As the group gathers in the well appointed room - any room with books is well appointed - a rather tall dwarf with dark skin slides in behind them. Her sophisticated armor and brown hair gathered in neat cornrows bespeaks someone who cares about their appearance, but the practicality cannot be overlooked.
She leans in towards the woman, "Yellow eyes! My favorite color. And a fellow knitter." Shurgha looks around at the others, who present quite a mix of sizes, colors, and personalities. "This might prove a worthwhile excursion, after all," she muses.
Upon hearing of the prospector's misfortune, Shurgha apprises the group about an event called "The Rending", then thanks Luna for her time.
"Sounds like we're clearing out whatever threat is down there, and looking for bodies." The Carnelian Signet leans back in her chair.
Would Grandma be proud of her sacrifice? She died a pariah, forgotten by most of her family for ruining their reputation. For daring to sacrifice herself to save a village who owed her nothing in return. For clutching honesty and revealing her family's treachery.
The Signet pulls out a mirror to ensure her white ash isn't running. "I'd love to speak to the survivor, see if we can get some more information. Odd that he would ask for more protection."
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Shurgha motions to Hancock and turns to the monk, "These ruins may contain artifacts sacred to our people Master Thurus. May I remind you that Pathfinders are archaeologists, not explorers?" She hastily adds,"I mean no offense."
She smiles at the pale-faced woman, admiring the lovely color of her armor, " Mistress Signet, I applaud your concern with retrieving the departed. Are you with the Envoy's Alliance?"
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As soon as Luna says 'Old Dwarven Ruins', capitalized in Hancock's mind, he perks up.
Hancock: "Thinkicdb Tarkrm?"
Bruce: "My charge would like to know if the ruins could be something... Well, since I don't know drwarven ruins all that well, the best I can make it out to be is Tar Kadrim."
Grumbling with frustration, not to mention that he dislikes being called the man's "charge," Hancock slows his words down and enunciates, T -ar -Kad -ur -m."
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It's good your people love grandiose construction. I'd hate to have to crawl through all that.
Carnelian, I can assure you I am an expert in cleaving things, whether it's goblin guts or an ally's arm. I will not slip while I stitch you together.
Let's go see our survivor. Maybe we'll get an idea of what's down there.
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Shurgha motions to Hancock and turns to the monk, "These ruins may contain artifacts sacred to our people Master Thurus. May I remind you that Pathfinders are archaeologists, not explorers?" She hastily adds,"I mean no offense."
Malik nods to Shurgha, "Of course. I'm saying that simply seeing them would be more exciting than some other missions I've been assigned previously. I hope we find something of historical value, but just being in such an old site will be a reward of it's own."
Luna looks at Bruce, ”Aside from the site being the ancient dwarven empire is called Tar Khardurrm and beineg ruined by the eruption of Droskar's Crag, we have no idea what lies in the ruins. This is where you come in. I should warn you that this place is no children's playground, knowing that only one of the prospectors I mentioned survived.” She then looks to everyone, ”Let my assistant lead you to Silver Bulette inn, where the survivor stays for now. After that, you can already proceed to the ruins. You’ll follow the road to Falcon’s Hollow. Then, I hope none of you gets seasick, because I’ve arranged for you to be ferried up the River Foam to Gold Falls Inn. It’s a nice place, run by a retired Pathfinder, Mierson Berekland. Stay there the night, then head up the mountain. Just follow the map.” she tells everyone and gives you the map going to the ruins.
The PCs are led to the Silver Bulette, a large inn with an expansive tavern on the first floor. The rugged half-orc, Elsitt Treddy, is well into his cups of dwarven whiskey as he mourns his slain friends. He just looks up blearily when the PCs approach, eyes red-rimmed from crying.
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Malik sits next to Elsitt and waves his hand at the bartender, "Another round for my friend here. They've been through a lot..." he says before turning to Elsitt. "I know you lost dear friends at Tar Khardurrm, but we're getting sent next. If you could tell us anything about what dangers we will face, it could keep us and others from suffering the same fate." he then adds, "We can try and get revenge too, if its something you're looking for."
She smiles at the pale-faced woman, admiring the lovely color of her armor, " Mistress Signet, I applaud your concern with retrieving the departed. Are you with the Envoy's Alliance?"
"Not me, but my sponsor keeps me appraised of these situations." She smiles. "She works with the Alliance and prefers to build bridges with words, rather than swords and flame." She blows a smoky kiss from her lips.
"Carnelian, I can assure you I am an expert in cleaving things, whether it's goblin guts or an ally's arm. I will not slip while I stitch you together."
"I pray you don't have to cleave my arm. How will I use my whip without the proper balance?"
The rugged half-orc, Elsitt Treddy, is well into his cups of dwarven whiskey as he mourns his slain friends.
"Your help would be quite appreciated. Think of the lives you can save with just your words. A little curiosity is healthy."
She kicks back and leans in her chair, hiding her sympathy too well.
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Bruce cheerily plops himself down next to the drinker and orders himself a drink, waving to Hancock to pay for it. With a soft "grrr," Hancock reluctantly digs out some coins and puts them on the table.
Bruce: "A man should not drink alone. I think I will join you. It always helps work out your woes if you talk about them, right?"
Bruce has 'free drink' written all over his face.
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"Master Treddy, may I offer my condolences on your loss and buy you a drink?" She turns to the bartender and places several coins on the bar, "Two of whatever he is drinking."
"My companions and I intend to venture into the ruins. One of our tasks will be to retrieve your fallen. Are there any details you remember, such as rockfalls or tunnel collapses? Or other obstacles, that may hinder us?"
"Could you show us on the map you drew?"
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"I pray you don't have to cleave my arm. How will I use my whip without the proper balance?"
A small surgeon's jest, cleave is both to join together as well as cut apart.
Elsitt, what happened to you and yours was a horrible tragedy, no one can dispute that. Butwe have to go down there, both because recovering lost knowledge from ages past is our calling and to ensure it doesn't happen to anyone else. Whatever you can share with us; paths, tunnels, landmarks, any plants or animals you saw, truly anything could be the difference between success and failure. The more we know the better we can plan and the more likely we all return unharmed.
Elsitt accepts another round of drink from Malik. ”Thank you,” Elsitt says, and only sobbing after that. He does not even bother to ask them who they are. ”The job costs my friends their lives,” he says. He is so drowned from sadness and liquor. He cries more when Malik mentions they will going to the ancient ruins too. The words of Signet stirs up some anger but loneliness within him. ”Lives I can save? I can’t even save my friends!” he bemoans and begins to chug all the contents of another round of dwarven whiskey.
He is even trigerred with the word ‘alone’. It seems his drunkeness is impairing his hearing and understanding, but he is not becoming hostile, just mourning. ”You don’t even know the word ‘alone’. That’s what I am now, alone! I wish we’d never been there. No matter how much gold I got for the map, it’s not enough. Gethel would have disagreed. There wasn’t anything he would not do for gold.” he complains while throwing an empty ceramic cup away from anybody of you. At least he is somewhat sober not to hit anyone.
He doesn’t listen to Haka despite his words of assurance that him and his allies will be prepared for the mission to the ruins. He just chugs another glass of dwarven whiskey. On the other hand, the words of Mathilda seems to comfort him a bit, he tell her something, ”We we’re attacked by suits of dwarf armor,” he tells with quick change of emotion from comfort to horror in his face, ” when my friends and I enter the first room. My friends were killed even before we could escape, but the suits of dwarven armor did not follow me outside the ruins. There is no more map. I may have lost it there. I can’t even remember it.” he says disappointly. ”You can leave me now. If you are really going there, I just want you to bring my friends’ bodies back for a proper burial at least. If you do, I will give you a share of gold I got from Luna as a reward. They should not be left to rot, or worse, in that place!” he concludes before he slumps his head on the table and snoring from too much alcohol.
The Pathfinders leave Elsitt in his drunken slumber and they depart for an easy trip north to Falcon’s Hollow. They board a boat to travel 25 miles up the River Foam to the Gold Falls Inn at the base of Droskar’s Crag. Unfortunately, as they make their way north, they encounter an unexpected obstacle at the confluence of the Darkmoon River: a log jam blocks the way forward. Log drivers from the Lumber Consortium work furiously to clear the mess, but they’re shorthanded and struggling in the wake of a duergar attack several days earlier. The log drivers fought off the duergar raiders but suffered casualties in the process. They’re desperate to clear the jam and get out of this area.
”Hey, don’t just stand there gawking! You can’t go anywhere until we clear this, so help already!” a hirsute, muscular halfling roars from atop the log, whose normal speaking voice is a shout loud enough to be heard over rapids and tumbling logs.
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Malik hasn't heard of animated suits of dwarven armor before, though he suspects they function similar to constructs.
On the boat, Malik continues his reading in a new tome on magical theory. See the log damming the river, he rolls his eyes and thinks of the best way to unclear it.
He stands and points at the two ends of the log, "One group needs to push up and forward while the other pulls back and pushes down."
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"Gus dlsnl," says Hancock, his words more slurred than the drunkard. Bruce does not feel the need to interpret what he said though, so it must not be important.
He plants his feet firmly on the deck and rides the swells with confidence and springs into action when there is a call for help, shoving timbers this way and that and nudging the others wordlessly to work in tandem.
(I figure he could do both, even if only for RP purposes)
"Well, that's one way to end a conversation." The Carnelian Signet stands up and leaves a silver piece on the table. "To cover his tab."
Sorrow can blind even the strongest firebrands.
"That's quite a logjam you have there!" She unfurls her whip and strikes one of the logs.
She snaps it away, causing several mingled logs to fall into the river and more to roll off onto the banks.
"But I hate slowing down."
Thanks to Malik, his idea on how to remove the logs is effective. With the help of strong arms of Hancock, and the whipping of Signet to loosen some of them. They are able to remove the logs. Even Haka removes many of them.
”Ey, thank you for helpin'. I'm Pattin, I am their leader.” the muscular halfling says while pointing to his log drivers. ”As our gratitude, why don't you come and stay with us for the night? The sun is almost setting. What are your purpose in this place, anyway?”
"Ah, fantastic! Lovely." The Carnelian Signet claps as the logs fall.
She gives an aside glance to Hancock and then chuckles. "My friend said we are searching an old dwarven ruin on Droskar’s Crag. For historical analysis. Also there are... rumors of terrible danger there. Exciting!" She grins.
"I wouldn't mind sleeping somewhere warm tonight. I'm certain my teammates would agree."
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Muttering to herself Shurgha watches the logs break up, still a little befuddled over their encounter with Elsitt Treddy. "He was so drunk he couldn't see the map he drew for Luna. I shouldn't have bought him another."
She pulls herself together and responds to The Carnelian Signet,"Yes, that sounds good."
"Droskar's Crag ye say? Ah, terrible place. Nothing has gone right on this trip from there. Couple days ago, duergar raiders attacked, tried to take us prisoner! We sent them back up the Crag, but they left us bloodied. That’s why this mess happened.” he says along the way as the party follows him into their camp. A hearty stew is prepared and everyone has a good night sleep.
The next day, Pattin offers a satchel to the party, "Here, take this, it is not much but I hope this can help with your mission to the Crag." Inside the satchel are a lesser leaper’s elixir, a sunrod, and a minor elixir of life.
After making it past the logjam, the Pathfinders finish their journey without incident and soon reach Gold Falls Inn, a former dwarven ruin that has been transformed into a lodging with spectacular views of the
waterfall. The party is welcomed by a human innkeeper. From here, everyone starts their journey to the Droskar's Crag.
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Mathilda gobbles down the stew. "The stew was amazing thank you for sharing your meal and camp with us."
She gets really excited when she sees the sunrod "A sunrod! Oh thank you again! I was worried how I was going to be able to see down in the dark of the caves." then she looks at her greatsword and realizes she can't hold both at the same time. She shrugs inwardly "I'll figure it out when we get there."
The soup is salty but hearty. Sleeping under the stars isn't as fun as staring at the fireplace, watching the flames flicker.
"I pray the only logs you find can be thrown into a firepit." The Carnelian Signet blows a kiss of smoke at Pattin before disembarking.
The Carnelian Signet pulls out a minor healing potion. "A gift from the Society, to my benefactor. She lets me use the equipment in exchange for getting my hands dirty."
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Haka slides the elixir of life into a loop of his medical bandolier before helping himself to a double portion of stew.
Just in case. It seems there's always someone needing to be patched up.
After laying out his bedroll Haka checks over his equipment before pulling out his axe and affixing a small crystal to a slot in the pommel.
It's good the schools are so generous. Sometimes you just need to be extra sharp.
The crumpled remains of iron doors leave this entryway open to the elements. Ash, dirt and other debris cover the floor. The bloodied bodies of a gnome and human lie near the entrance, arms outstretched toward the exit, away from the dwarf likenesses standing in each corner. Below the remains, a map carved into the stone floor spreads across this chamber. A wide hallway leads east out of the room, and to the south, a narrow set of stairs leads down.
"Haka? Can you analyze their injuries?" She draws her whip, cracks it against the ground and a spark of light ignites her armor.
"Shall we advance? Let us go east first, if possible."