|
A small gnome with wild, stark-white hair and a very youthful face approaches. He stops and looks around for a VC. Not seeing one amongst those present, he speaks.
I suppose I came a little early for the briefing. No matter. I am Arin, a healer with gifts of unknown origin. I hope to be helpful to all of you during the mission.
He holds a very stoic expression as he speaks, his face never showing any emotion that would match the words. Some find it unnerving.
|
A tall man of Tien Ancestry walks in to greet the others. He moves slowly in his heavy armor, and is covered in dust from the road.
He removes his helmet to make conversation easier.
Greetings. I am called Baretta, Baretta Blackfeathers. I am honored to meet you. I will introduce you to my loyal mount, Garuda, before we depart on our mission, whatever that may be.
He takes a seat.
|
|
You see a happy man bounding down the stairs and without missing a stride, right up to the meeting room's entrance, whistling. His black mane is unhindered by a helmet or hat, and you see a rapier and a whip at his belt. You can see a chain shirt dangling under his yellow tunic, and a buckler is strapped over his backpack. More importantly, he carries a small one gallon cask of ale under his right arm, and his left hand swings up and down with a mug as he frequently samples his latest right arm acquisition.
He strolls up the door confidently and asks Arin, "Hey, there you are! I brought ale!! do you think this will be enough?"
The man then proceeds to sing-song one or two enchantments on himself, giving a wink to Cat Rich as he does so, then opens his backpack and sets up five additional tin tankards on the table. Those in the room now somehow get the feeling that this innocuous-looking man is perhaps somehow a much more powerful warrior than they had first gauged him to be... maybe even some kind of leader trying to mask his natural authority with menial words and overly familiar demeanor...
|
A conservatively dressed lady enters the room and bows. ”Excuse me for the interruption, but a ship is ready to take you to Iceferry now. A recently promoted Venture-Captain has volunteered his ship, the Voracious, to transport you to your destination; he has an appointment in Magnimar but says he has time to make a detour to Kalsgard first. Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen will brief you at the Iceferry Lodge upon your arrival. The rest of your party will meet you on the ship. Fare thee well.”
Upon boarding the ship, you are greeted by its Captain, a tall Elf with flowing blonde hair in a dark grey cloak, with an owl perched in his left shoulder. He bows slightly to you, smiling as he says, ”Welcome aboard the Voracious, Flyndyngylyn at your service…but you may call me Flyn. There’s food and ale below in the mess, along with general quarters for you, such as they are. Make yourself at home while we await the rest of your party.”
|
|
Flyn smiles as he nods. ”Please, call me Flyn. Aye, I travel occasionally by horse as well and have fitted the bottom deck with a couple of makeshift stalls; there’s room enough for your unique mount there. And if he doesn’t mind some left-over corn and grain, he should have enough food for the journey as well…”
|
Out of place among the common carts and draft teams on the docks, a white lacquered carriage comes to a stop at the end of the pier leading to the Voracious. The gold inlaid door opens to allow a scaled head to emerge, the only visible scales the nagaji man displays. His clothing matches the brilliant white and gold, while a wealth of jewelry adorns the cloth not obscured by the mithral armor covering his chest.
With a nod to an unseen occupant still within, he turns away to walk up the weathered platform jutting into the Bay of Kortos. As he makes his way up the gangplank, one white gloved hand raises in greeting.
"Venture Captain Flyn, a pleasure to meet you. Your reputation precedes you and assures a safe journey. I am Ushi, Prophet of Kalistrade." His gaze turns to the rest of the gathered Pathfinders. "I sense many talents among our gathered selves. May this journey bring success and good fortune to us all."
An elf runs toward the ferry.
Sorry for being late...my summons went to the wrong place...she says breathlessly as she tisses her pack on board and hoos over the rail effortlessly.
I'm Meri...nice to meet you all...
|
|
Flyn bows to the Nagaji. ”Master Ushi, you honor me too much, welcome aboard…”
Seeing a fellow Elf hustling towards the Voracious, Flyn grins. ”Welcome aboard, m’Lady, you’re right on time. Now that everyone is aboard, we’ll depart soon,” he says as he pulls up the gang-plank…
Your sailing is smooth and uneventful. The air is crisp and cool as the boat arrives in Iceferry, a small town just across the Rimeflow river from Kalsgard. As you disembark, Flyn awaits you, his owl perched on his shoulder once again, hooting consistently. He murmurs, ”No, Archimedes, we’ll not be late…yes, yes, we won’t delay.” He bows to you as you depart, saying, ”Fare thee well, my friends…I would love to join you but, alas, I’ve been called away to Magnimar on another mission…and, as my feathered friend here constantly reminds me, we must depart so we won’t be late. Another time then…good luck to you all!”
|
|
Waiting on the ice-crusted wharf is an enthusiastic gnome, who is bundled in a number of exotic furs and brightly-colored scarves, waving energetically with both hands. She bounds over and introduces herself as Lirall, adding that the venture-captain is waiting. She then volunteers to serve as a guide through the icy streets to the local lodge.
Although the journey through Iceferry is short, the warmth of the lodge is initially invigorating. Before anyone can warm themselves by the fireplace for too long, however, the gnome walks to a panel of labeled and colorful pulleys near the entrance, looking them all over closely before pulling one labeled “Library.” The cord, which runs across the lodge’s ceiling before disappearing through a small opening in one wall, goes taut. There is the sound of something flapping in the air, almost immediately overwhelmed by the excited and friendly barking of a large dog. A door opens, letting forth an energetic husky that rushes out to greet the newcomers, before a deep voice echoes from beyond the opening, offering gentle admonishment to the dog.
“Now, now, Mahki, you know better. Let our guests come in.” The owner of the voice proves to be Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen, a dashing half-orc with a short black beard braided into three points, and a long ponytail. He looks up from reading a book on the history of the Linnorm Kings, and, after carefully marking his page with an old brass key, places it atop a nearby book on gnome physiology. “Thank you for coming. There have been a series of unusual deaths lately in Kalsgard, just across the river.” As he speaks, he makes a series of gestures with his hands, and it soon becomes clear that he is speaking both aloud and in sign. “Before we proceed, what do you know about what gnomes call the Bleaching?”
|
|
As they depart, Arin offers Thank you good captain. We appreciate the use of your vessel.
------------
In the lodge library, with Torrsen...
The little gnome looks around, suddenly realizing it is him who can easily answer this question. He thought Lirall might offer the official explanation.
Oh. I'm familiar with this. We gnomes hold a connection to the First World which urges us to seek out experience and wonderment. When one lacks fulfillment in this we may go into a manner of depression and lethargy. It is really quite unfortunate, and can potentially be lethal. It can even be marked by physical changes in a gnome, such as whitening of hair, or dulling of the eyes.
He glances upward quickly, remembering the color of his wild hair.
To be clear, though I am rarely excitable and have a stoic personality, I am not afflicted with this.
This is generous, as "rarely" really means "never."
|
|
The Venture-Captains nods, grinning at Arin, and continues. ”As I was saying, there have been several deaths lately in Kalsgard. All who perished are gnomes whose hair and skin have been turned completely white. At first glance, this looks like just a few more cases of the Bleaching, but one of our agents in Kalsgard, Quil Tabberdash, is a gnome who spends her free time helping to combat the effects of the bleaching in the local community, and she’s convinced it’s something else. She’s tried working with the local authorities, but they’re preoccupied with Sveinn Blood-Eagle’s recent announcement, and all the chaos that’s caused, and simply aren’t interested. So, you’re going to help Quil investigate what’s really going on, and, if it turns out to be something sinister after all, put a stop to it. Here’s the address of Quil’s church. Or perhaps gambling hall would be a more apt description?”
He hands over a folded piece of paper with an address written on it. “Quil will meet you there after you arrive in Kalsgard and show you to some of the places where bodies have been found. Oh, and Pathfinders? Things are unstable enough over there right now. Try to avoid stirring things up more than absolutely necessary, and I’ll see to it that you’re properly compensated for your troubles.”
With that, the venture-captain makes a quick gesture with his hand and nods to the PCs, giving them the opportunity to ask what they will.
|
|
Ushi inquires about the recent announcement, listening to Torrsen's explanation regarding the political situation before nodding. "A gambling hall, a church, lead by a Pathfinder agent. Do I guess correctly that Quil is a worshiper of Cayden? More importantly, did she provide any basis for her suspicion of foul play?"
|
|
A wide grin grows on the venture-captain’s face, as he nods to Ushi. ”No my friend, but you’re close; she worships Nivi Rhombodazzle, which is close to the gnomish equivalent. As for a basis, not much, she just has a feeling gnomes are being targeted and she’s puzzled as to why; but you’ll be able to ask her soon enough.”
The bleaching sounds...horrible. I wonder if there is such a thing for elves...ah! Great...now I have something to have nightmares about! Meri says as she shakes her head. She ponders for a moment,
Your lip reading...the common tongue only? Or can you understand other dialects and such?
|
|
You mean enough for us or for you?
"Danggit! you're right! I'll need to buy way more beer..."
=======================================
The bleaching sounds...horrible. I wonder if there is such a thing for elves...ah! Great...now I have something to have nightmares about! Meri says as she shakes her head. She ponders for a moment,
"Actually yeah... I think you guys call it The Blues or The Forlorning or something along those lines... sad elves forced to live outside elf lands or something... hey! aren't you familiar with this alrea... err... oh crap... I'mma gonna shut up now... "
Meri just stares at Son of Cayden, her hand absent mindedly going to the hilt of her blade. She stops herself and takes a deep breath.
Just...don't...please...ok?
|
|
"yeah... my bad... not all knowledge is called for right? let's start this again shall we? how about a pint Meri? yes?" says Son apologetically, pouring from his small personal keg and filling one of the six shiny tin tankards he's lined up on the table. "How about you Torrsen-man? some fine ale from down south yes? does your husky dog likes beer? I'm sure I can find a bowl here somewhere..."
|
|
Torrsen shrugs to the Elf. ”I can lip read any dialect that I’m familiar with…” Merisiel gets the feeling this is not a subject the VC likes to discuss…
Lirall looks at her fellow gnome. ”I’m scared just like all gnomes here…but I trust Quil’s instincts and think you should too…”
Torrsen chuckles at the bard’s query. ”Aye, I, and my dog too, will share an ale with you…but only after you complete the mission…”
With a more serious look on his face, he asks the group, ”Are you ready to depart now for Quil’s church?”
Meri shuffles her feet and looks down, realizing she might have stirred up some nad feelings.
I'm ready as I can be...just point out something that needs a blade in the ribs...
|
|
The VC shrugs at Baretta’s query. ”While that’d be preferable if they can’t be talked down, I’m not one to tell my agents to non-lethally subdue folk that may be trying to kill them; you’ll have to make that call…”
He looks over the group. ”You had best be heading to see Quil. If you need to purchase anything, the shops along the way will be happy to oblige you…”
|
|
You politely take your leave and head over to question Quil Tabberdash. The streets buzz with excitement and whispered rumors regarding King Sveinn’s proclamation and the various political maneuvering of his offspring. For the most part, no one pays much attention to you.
As you near your destination, that changes. You see a group of four locals staggering out of a nearby tavern who take an unhealthy interest in you. One of the Ulfen agitators points towards you and calls out, swaggering over to you and declaring in an accusatory tone that he’s never seen your faces before. He adds, in a drunken slur, “You must be working for that witch, Yngvilda! I heard she’d been bringing in foreigners to try and steal her father’s throne away from Uldren, the rightful heir.” His companions add their own inebriated and disgruntled murmurs of agreement.
|
|
"Hey man, I don't work for no witch! I'm a follower of Cayden, the god of beer, and I'm here to see if it's true if your town has some of the best beer in the world! I brought some of mine here if you want to try what we have down south. We could compare beers! what say you?"
Son of Cayden pulls out his small keg and few tin cups...
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Yeah...it's pretty good beer too...not dwarven stout, mind you...but good..
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The leader looks at you. You scala…huh? Free beer? No one who offers free beer to us could support the witch! Keep it pouring, friend, we’ll join you!”
Your silvery tongues, reinforced most vigorously with the Son of Cayden’s portable keg, has quickly defused the situation; you know Torrsen would be proud. After talking over a couple of beers, the men offer to butt heads in appreciation for the beer, and stumble on their merry way…
Just ahead you can see the temple and you head there with no further problem…
|
|
The chapel/gambling hall belongs to a squat, stoutly built wooden building with a weathered exterior that is meticulously decorated with images of dice, cards, and gemstones. The words “The Hall of Seven Wagers,” and an image of a dice with seven pips are painted in bright blue against a red background over a door with well-oiled brass hinges set under a snow-covered cloth awning.
The gaming den is fairly quiet in the mid-afternoon, and when you enter, you find Quil hanging brightly-colored streamers and other decorations for the evening’s festivities. The inside of the building is just as brightly colored as the outside and features a variety of gaming tables and equipment for just about any kind of gambling one could ask for.
She immediately guesses the your purpose as soon as she sees you. “Oh! Perfect! You’re here!” cries a gnome woman with gold-flecked, black hair. She stands atop a step-ladder, affixing bright yellow streamers to the ceiling. She quickly sets the decorations down and saunters up with a smile, extending a hand in greeting. “I’m Quil Tabberdash. Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
After shaking each of your hands (politely moving past any refusals without skipping a beat), she begins gathering her outdoor clothes (a long gray overcoat with sapphire stitching and sapphire buttons shaped like dice, as well as a matching pair of sturdy gray mittens), talking as she puts them on. “Normally I’d invite you to stay for a game or two, but we should probably jump right into things before there are any more deaths. As I’m sure you’ve been told, gnomes have been turning up dead across Kalsgard, and everyone thinks it’s due to the Bleaching. It’s not.” She gives a resolute nod to emphasize that point. “For one thing, the Bleaching is a long, slow process, and these gnomes were all vibrant and full of life just days before. For another, most of the victims have had looks of absolute horror on their faces, and that doesn’t fit with Bleaching, either.”
As she finishes pulling on her mittens, she gestures towards the door. “Come on, I’ll show you where some of the more recent bodies were found. You can ask any questions on the way.” Quil answers questions from you during the walk to the first crime scene, although if the you suggest that you suspect the Bleaching is the true cause of the deaths, she quickly insists that can’t be the case.
|
|
Ushi accepts the offered handshake, only slightly worried some pigment from the decorating might stain his glove. "Do they share anything in common, besides the obvious? A list of the deceased may help find a less obvious reason for the horrors." he inquires as Quil finishes declaring her suspicions.
|
|
"Oh Quil, I'm so sorry for your loss. It's awful. Here you are, a bright candle here in the cold north, doing your best to make these gnomes content and happy, and then some a$~~+@+ is targeting them... I swear to you, I'm happy we're not in Taldor or some other bureaucratic place... whenever we find whoever did this... there'll be nothing left to jail I tell ye... there'll be no pulling of punches during this mission. That said, I'm not about to shank the wrong person due to being blinded by revenge. I'll be as cool as a cuke until we find the real a!+%$~&, and then they're gonna pay..."
Son of Cayden sheds a few tears, wipe them with the back of his sleeve, and gives a hug to Quil.
Some one or some thing, perhaps? Might not be a person...just thinking out loud... Meri says, a bit worried now.
I'm not a believer of coincidences, but that's too many too close together...
|
|
You are right. Those two points certainly run counter to a typical, or even any conceivable bleaching process.
He thinks on her evidence so far.
Is it possible one of the sides in the local conflict mean to create some sort of a distraction from the conflict itself? I... don't immediately know how they would even make it effective but we're sort of shooting in the dark here for motive.
|
|
"Do they share anything in common, besides the obvious? A list of the deceased may help find a less obvious reason for the horrors." he inquires as Quil finishes declaring her suspicions.
"Have you ever encountered something like this before? Multiple gnomes experiencing bleaching in close proximity to each other?" Catushlara asks as she follows Quil. "Do we know anything about the victims? Anything they have in common?"
”Other than being gnomes, I can think of nothing in particular they’d have in common. And no, I’ve never experienced anything like this before, not so close together. We’re almost at the first victim’s house, Yuenosh Tevrilna. I can give you the other victim names if you think it’ll help…but we’ll be visiting each of their houses in succession. I guess that’s one commonality; they were all murdered at their residence…”
Has anyone expressed displeasure with the new atmosphere for the local gnomes? Perhaps a competitor in the gambling business?
Quil shakes her head. ”Not that I’m aware of…everyone knows I’m not in this for profit, just worried about the well-being of my fellow gnomes…”
Is it possible one of the sides in the local conflict mean to create some sort of a distraction from the conflict itself? I... don't immediately know how they would even make it effective but we're sort of shooting in the dark here for motive.
”I had not thought of that…but I can’t see what either side would gain. The gnomes have taken no part in the succession and the Ulfen folk have supported us in general; we live peacefully here…”
She stops abruptly after answering your questions. ”Here’s the house of Yuenosh; are you ready to begin?”
|
|
Maybe the neighbors will take to a fellow gnome. I'm going to knock on a door or two...
Arin decides to knock on a neighbors door. He will cordially introduce himself as a Pathfinder and ask permission to ask a couple of questions about Yuenosh. If the neighbor doesn't decline, he starts with:
Did you notice any changes in Yuenosh in the days or weeks leading up to their death? Changes in mood, mannerism, or even daily routine? Any curious or mysterious visitors?