You receive a summons to visit the Pathfinder Lodge in Iceferry, near the town of Kalsgard within the Land of the Linnorm Kings. Venture-Captain Bjersig Torrsen asks for you by name to join on an incredible mission.
A half-orc dressed in a thick wool tunic, hide pants and furred boots greets you. He motions you into the lodge with a simple grunt. A small gnome named Lirall nods. “He wants you to come inside. Come on. Come on, Mahki!” A black and white furred dog follows and leads you all to a calming fireplace.
The Half-Orc Venture Captain sits down in a large wooden chair and waits for everyone to sit by.
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.
"I believe you will get a starter package from the officials, as well as an opportunity to purchase additional supplies." Lirall pipes up. Bjersig confirms with a simple nod.
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Ysoldt quietly curses under her breath as she enters the exterior. Something about stupid white flakes, blue lips, and 'this gods forsaken place'.
She greets everyone, sits down and rubs her hands to warm them up a bit as she listens to the briefing. After Torrsen is done, she leans forward. "So is this a sled thing, are we hiking, riding bears? How does it work, exactly? Asking to know what to pack, and in what quantities."
“The trials vary from year to year, but there are some favorites that return frequently. You’ll have to cross the Whitegold River about halfway through the race. That task in and of itself has long been used as one of the trials. In general, the trials will test your strength, wits or will in some way related to the journey of Balgird. The only advice I can offer from what I know is that the officials are open to creative solutions so long as they do not put anyone in undue danger.”
"As for packing, you will be hiking on foot through snow and ice. Prepare yourself for sleeping in cold, frigid nights. You will have time to purchase supplies before the race begins."
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Ysoldt ponders something for a moment. She taps her upper lip with her index finger as she looks at nothing in particular.
"So, this is a 200 mile race, yes? Any idea where we could get a map of the-" she thinks about the proper term to use for a second. "track?"
She also waves at Loka with a smile on her face, then looks at the figure in splint mail. She walks over to say hi.
"Hi." she speaks with a lowered voice. "Ysoldt. We'll do proper introductions later."
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What appears to be a small bundle of clothes in a corner proves to indtead be Honzakqed nestled in sweaters and coats and blankets so much he resembles a ball more than a person. He shivers even in the relatively warm room and waves a barely mobile hand to have Dimitsi roll him closer ot the conversation. "Wait, you must be JOKING about going out in that freezing weather! How is a proper child of Nex supposed to survive something as frostbite inducing as sleeping outside in that?! I swear Sektom is getting an earful when I get home!!!"
He bemoans his situation a little more, before adding, "Well I guess I should get some more warm clothes, a sled for Dimitsi to carry me on, and a proper striking rune. I want anything we run into to DIE before it can ruin my sweaters and make me freeze to death."
"I'm surprised you aren't used to the cold after your trip in Minkai." The Venture-Captain signs with an amused smirk across his face. "Warm clothing is a good idea. The trail changes each year, although you will definitely cross the Whitegold River at one point... I've taken too much of your time."
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 soon, 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.”
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.
At the front of the cart sits an elderly woman, still in her physical prime. Her armor is polished and bears the image of a mug of ale on the breastplate. Two halflings run alongside her, checking her gear while a younger human woman takes copious notes.
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Well, you've done it now.
Nilaglade lifts another bag of dried leaves, fluttering across the ground as quickly as he can. His back aches, but not from the labor.
"Ah, Nilaglade. Over here, please." Venture-Captain Amara Li directs him to a pile of tea leaves taller than her. "The bathhouse will find this gift very useful. We may restore the inventory you consumed last week."
Nilaglade huffs and drags the bag to the pile. The Go tournament was fun, but the afterparty was where things got spicy. And drunk. And the after afterparty was very exciting. And the after after afterparty... Nilaglade remembers waking up in a broken jug of sake and Amara Li firmly picking him up while apologizing to the mayor. But why? He doesn't remember. Some of the villagers grin as he passes them. Because they're enjoying this, or because they remember him from the party? Just thinking about it makes his head hurt.
"Venture-Captain, I would be a lot more efficient if Deroff could assist me. He can carry way more than I can."
Amara Li's mouth smiles briefly. "The officials insisted that you compensate their losses, not Deroff. Besides, he is... busy."
Several geisha fan and pet Deroff. They serve him another plate of boar meat. He munches another slice of meat and whines happily before drifting off to sleep.
At least someone's enjoying this. I hope my teammates are OK... Nilaglade grunts and keeps pulling the bag.
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"I'm surprised you aren't used to the cold after your trip in Minkai." The Venture-Captain signs with an amused smirk across his face. "Warm clothing is a good idea. The trail changes each year, although you will definitely cross the Whitegold River at one point... I've taken too much of your time."
The ball of fabrics that is Honzak gives a small gasp of offense at the mention of Minkai. "I'll have you know I had to have 3 fingers and 4 toes regenerated from frostbite because of that trip! It was not a pleasent experience and I'm frankly offended you brought it up!"
He gives a huff and then waves for Dimitsi to roll him out of the room. In the rest of the lodge, the gnome instead settles for retail therapy and grabs a striking rune for his conducting dagger baton, another set of warm winter clothes and a sled to have Dimitsi pull him around.
Once rolled onto the cart, Honzak gives the ulfen men and women a wane smile before asking, "Did you too get unwittingly roped into this certain death trip by a superior? You seem to have the disposition of one. I'm Honzakqed Thomecon, aspiring Arclord of Nex and researcher of postmortem music. I'd shake your hand but it's buried in the furs here somewhere."
"Roped into..." An Ulfen man wearing wolfskins looks Honzakqed over with disdain. "By a superior? We'd do this every week if we had the chance!"
He stands up and thumps his chest proudly. "The Oakfeller Family has competed in the Balgridtrek for decades. But don't worry, you can stay bundled up next to a roaring fire while we take the trophy." The other three Ulfens look to the man and cheer.
The eldest man, a human in his forties, stands up and walks up to the wolfskin man. "Alright, Gruen. No need to get fired up. The officials demanded we treat them courtesy and respect..." His glare betrays his words. "I am Ostog Oakfeller. This is my son Hjeldr and my daughter Signe. We are team Without Trace or Fail, and we're the best sharpshooters in this entire region. Enjoy competing for second place. Or drinking some hot cocoa in one of those tourist traps." He huffs and directs Gruen to the back of the sled.
Near the front of the sled, you see the older woman frown before shaking her head and snorting. "Always posturin'." The younger woman scribbles every word down.
"No, I'll leave that to the Bluetongues." The woman smiles at Ysoldt. "They psyche themselves up. They have moxie. They'll go far if they don't freeze to death."
The halflings step aside as she leans forward to extend a hand. "You must be the rumored newcomers. Welcome to the Balgirdtrek." Ysoldt can smell the ale. "The most important part is to stay warm. The weather gets nasty out there. We're too used to city comforts." She leans back and Ysoldt notices the symbol of Cayden Cailean on her belt. "Also, there are checkpoints along the way. You should rest there at nightfall. Getting caught during the cold night could spell doom for all of you. And we wouldn't want that." She grins. You hear a chuckle from the people at the end of the cart. One of the halflings pauses and shudders.
"Rikkun here decided to go hunting one night, because he was bored. I took a half day detour to rescue him. Thosse fell in a river along the way. I had to drag them both across the line. Fun stuff. Had a big keg of ale waiting for me, though!" She smiles. "Don't mind Without Trace or Fail. They don't like outsiders. They forget we were outsiders once when our ancestors moved here."
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"Oh dear..." Ysoldt cracks a surprised smile as she covers her mouth. Her eyes go wide in surprise. "Do they ACTUALLY do that? I thought that's just dumb gossip."
She starts to laugh. "Okay - good on them, I guess, but that is hilarious."
She forces herself to stop laughing, then looks around. "Right, right. Sorry. I am Ysoldt, this is Loka - our pickle queen, and and Thalaasi our hunter. I think Loka can introduce the rest. She probably knows them better than me." she points to to her colleagues, and waits for someone else to fill her in on the rest of the group.
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Honzak's eyes bug out of his face at the mention that a group of people would even TRY this in the nude. He shudders and decides to roll a little clowwer to the angry Ulfens instead.
"You seem like a good group to win. I, personally, don't mind getting second place, and if I had a choice in the matter would gladly sit on the sidelines, but Dimitsi truly is interested in going and I have to stay close to him to keep him summoned. Anyways, do you have any tips for a gnome from sunny Nex about how to not freeze to death?"
"Freezing to death? If you could turn into a wolf it wouldn't be diffiicult." Gruen yells from the back. "My family is blessed with lycanthropy, and they can endure the coldest nights. Howling winds that reduce you to a chunk of ice, it feels like you're inhaling frost."
He mutters and tugs on his wolfskin. "I was... not as lucky." He grunts. "Bah! Why am I helping you? Are we there yet?"
Ostog eyes him. "Yes, we're almost there. This er... Hellknight was introducing himself. Second cousin of the queen? Hmpf. Don't expect us to treat you like royalty, my lord." He gets a good chuckle out of his children.
Finally, the sled comes to a stop. Before you have a chance to react, the Ulfen at the end of the sled stand up and move right past you. The driver helps them out of the sled. "Last year they came in second place, and they've been training ever since. They never give up and they are Without Trace or Fail! Give them a round of applause!" The crowd livens up and you already hear sidebets forming over how many officials they will rescue this year.
Faegrim stands up. "Good luck to you all." The halflings follow her and the scribe begins scribbling. "Now give a round of applause for last year's winners! You know their leader, Faegrim Axebinder! Give a warm welcome to the Wyrding Wayfinders!" The crowd erupts with praise as Faegrim stands tall and quietly looks among the crowd, her squires dashing ahead to clear her path of obstructions.
The driver turns to you and urges you forward. "And now, newcomers from around the world. The Pathfinder Society explores, cooperates and reports. But no fancy books are going to save them this time. They've got to hoof it to win it. May I introduce... the... err..." The driver's voice comes to a whisper. "What's your team name again? Tooth-Chatter Society?"
Ysoldt and Honzakqed have different ideas and inform the driver as such.
"Will Kill for Lodging!" The driver shouts. Some of the Ulfen stop clapping and glare. Some laugh. There are enough who politely clap. The driver escorts you to the stage.
The two drivers join hands and raise their voices in perfect sync. "Welcome to the Balgridtrek!" The crowds cheer on their favorite teams, mostly split between Without Trace or Fail and Wyrding Wayfinders.
”Greetings, Pathfinders. I’m Dahlia, the host here.” The gray haired woman strides towards you. ”Every team racing in the Balgirdtrek gets a starter pack. Even if they don’t start the race.” She snaps her fingers as an elf runs up and offers you a bag.
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 supplies. She eyes each of you as you look through the bag and read the list.
”Here’s a list of equipment you might want to purchase. You should definitely make sure you have some of the winter clothes, tent and a hatchet. You’re going to be out there for 4 days. Every year one team gets buried in a snowstorm, or they wander from the checkpoints at night and need rescue, or they lose their supplies in the branches of a tree they can’t cut down. But I’m certain that won’t happen to newcomers like you, right?”
The list reads:
- winter clothes
- tent
- hatchet
- rations
- healer's kit
- 100 feet of hemp rope
- repair kit
”You have about 3 hours until the race begins. Feel free to buy supplies from the merchants here.” She pauses. ”Do you need a refresher on the rules, or can I deliver supplies to the other teams?”
Lokaloka offers Honzakqed a pickle, only to watch one of the judges snatch it out of her hands.
"Mmm... the vinegar is a bit salty. But the brine has hint of sweetness.. did you boild the cucumber flowers first? Mmm." The judge licks his fingers. "Delicious pickles. If you have a second, I'll let you in on a juicy secret."
"Pay attention to Dead Man's Sluice." He points on the map. "It freezes over each winter, so you can travel it on foot. Assuming you're careful, of course."
Ignatius arms himself. Ropes? Check. Grappling hooks? Check. Tent. Check. One bad piece of gear could end in failure. We can't have that.
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Honzak freezes as soon as the pickle is waved in front of his face. The chill that runs down his spine seems the be even worse that the actual chill his body ahs been trying to endure out in the cold. As soon as the race official swoops in and saves him, he mentally orders Dimitsi to roll him the heck away from there!
He instead decides to see if he can't talk to Without Trace or Fail instead hoping the dour Ulfen men will help keep the persnickity pickle peddler at bay.
"Apologies if this is a tender subject, but you said you didn't inherit some lycanthropy? Would you be willing to talk about it? It's interested me for a while, but I haven't lived near anyone with it or willing to talk about it at least. Does your family yhave it? If you didn't get born with it does that mean you can't ever get it? "
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Eldon has been suspiciously silent and stealthy. The well-dressed halfling is wearing extra-warm looking winter clothing and is carrying a steaming mug.
"Loka, what did I miss? I was shopping. And finding warm drinks. I think we need spices rather than pickles up here. Should I go and chat to the other teams to find out about their skills? This hot, spiced wine is surprisingly good."
Gruen seems even grumpier than usual when Honzak approaches. He mumbles some thing to Osteg. "What do you want?"
Gruen mumbles and crosses his arms. "it's a family secret. You wouldn't understand." But Honzak is quite persistent.
"Fine, I'll keep it simple. My great grandmother said she was bit by a wolf she was hunting. It fled right after biting her, which seemed unusual. She said the bite wasn't even that deep . That's one way to do it. By the next full moon she was already prowling the snowy plains as a wolf. She enjoyed every minute of it."
"Her second husband was a cleric of Groteus, and he loved the moon, and he loved watching her roam free. He said the moon blessed him and gave him a wolf form to run with her."
Gruen looks wistful. "Ah, that must have felt wonderful. I will... master it some day. Maybe we can speak of this again, after the race. Best of luck to you."
You finish your purchases and return to the starting position. Already the other teams have lined up at the start line. "Come on, slowpokes! Enough tourism for today, you've got a race to win!" Dahila waves you over as some of the crowd chuckles.
"As Balgrid once said, persistence will save the day but speed will keep your butt warm! Good luck to everyone here. We'll see you in four days at the finish line. Now go!" One of the officials makes an arcane gesture and sparkles fly into the air giving a loud POP!
And you're off!
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As the rest of the team spend their time socialising, Ysoldt goes through the supplies to make sure everything is accounted for. She puts on the winter clothes, and looks around the snowy landscape with a heavy sigh.
"Every damn assignment in snow, I swear."
Once the race starts, she tries to help however she can. She's no good with a map, especially in the pure-white environment, and she knows jack all about the icy environments, so she tries to help with her muscles. However meek they may be. She is clearly eclipsed by Ignatius.
Honzak and Lokaloka provide musical encouragement to move the party forward.
Thalassi finds the frozen forest somewhat familiar, and finds a few optimal routes to use. Ignatius relies on brute strength to force the fallen logs and boulders out of the way, clearing critical paths that were thought impossible to clear. You are able to keep up with the other teams as you reach the first checkpoint.
A small, frigid stream runs between the dense pines, opening onto a frozen pond. To the east, a few small columns of smoke rise above the trees from several small campfires. To the north, a dozen caribou walk along the surface of the ice, snuffling and pawing at the thin grasses poking up from the snowy shoreline. As a race official watches over the small herd, the wind carries the gentle sound of bells.
Dahila watches the crossing with a smile as warm as the summer. ”Balgrid’s pack horse was lost in a blizzard. So what did he do? He tracked a herd of caribou for an entire week. They almost trampled his brains out. But let me tell you, when you tame one of ‘em they bond with you for life. Reminds me of Old Tucker...” She loses her professionalism for just a moment before resuming.
She turns to you. ”Listen up. There are a dozen caribou on that ice. Four of them have bells around their necks. You need to be kind or quiet as you approach them and get those bells. You need at least one bell to proceed, and you’ll earn more points for more bells. Just… don’t get trampled in the process.”
Just as you step onto the field and start looking, you notice a fox leap out right in front of the caribou.
A suit of iron armor tilts towards the fox. It freezes and considers sprinting.
The fox looks at the armor.
The armor looks at the fox.
A moment later, the fox is in Ignatius's arms, chattering happily.
With the distraction out of the way, the caribou graze idly. Now's your chance to snatch a bell!
Why would a fox reveal itself like that? Someone must have planted the fox there. Is there a clue nearby?
Ignatius finds nothing of interest, but he waits for his teammates to analyze the situation before he wanders towards the caribou.
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"Why is fox there?"
Upon seeing the fox in Ignatius' arms, she smiles, wanders over and pets the animal.
Lokaloka spots a caribou standing by itself near the edge of the field. She notices a bell around its neck. Removing all items that could make a sound, she first casts Guidance on herself to aid her. Then she quietly sneaks up to the caribou and attempts to steal its bell.
Lokaloka is as quiet as the snow. She slinks up to a caribou and yanks the bell without it reacting.