Pathfinders hurry around the makeshift camp, packing and unpacking supplies, making repairs, and scribing scrolls. The atmosphere is excited but tinged with some trepidation. Venture-Captain Oraiah Tolal from Nirmathas takes the lead, ensuring everyone has an assignment and is working on it. A religious symbol of Alseta—goddess of doorways, portals, thresholds, and transitions—hangs fromherneck,showing two faces in profile.
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A midst the chaos of the camp, a green-haired gnome in a jaunty hat and spiffy, stylish outfit wanders about chatting with just about anyone he sees. Well, any female, anyway. He doesn't seem to be wearing any armor, and carries only a shortsword at his side. Oddly, he has a strange mask shaped in the guise of a Tien Oni perched on the brim of his hat.
"Lizzibeth, darlin', how've you been?" he asks a human woman in his lilting Varisian accent. "Introduce me to yer friend, here, won't ya', please?" he charmingly inquires hoping to get the name of the young lady half-elf scribing scrolls nearby.
Having secured a name, and a promise of dinner back in Absalom at some future point, he realizes he's a bit hungry and focuses on procuring lunch. In this case, procuring means finding a lass at the chow line that he can charm into giving him a double helping.
With a full belly (and another name and promised rendezvous), the gnome manages to dodge VC Tolal's eye, thereby avoiding having to do any actual work. Instead he finds a spot (again in the proximity of a pretty lady), and makes it look like he's doing something "very important."
"Callaverthorna's the name, darlin', but all me friends and lovers call me Cal."
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A goblin walks up to the other two. His wizard robes tattered at the bottom from dragging in the dirt. He has a peaked hat that has stars and moons on it. The hat has seen better days too. A rodent mask is pushed up onto the base of the hat. He carries a large (for him) spellbook under one arm.
"Hello. BakBat here. BakBat the Wizard. The terrible and ferocious Wizard. I can burn things for you." You can almost hear the capital "W" in the word wizard.
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A hunched, graying half-orc woman in a simple, well-worn tunic heaves herself up from a seat across the way and limps with her heavy cane over to the group gathered around Cal. Easing herself down with a grunt, she joins the conversation by remarking to Cal with a voice like a boulder grinding over gravel: "Hmp. The word about the camp is that you could charm any lady you please. Here's hoping any resistance we encounter out there comes in the form of a pretty lass. Hmp." With her prodigious permanent frown, it's hard to tell if she intends this to be light banter or condescending criticism, at least until the corners of her mouth turn upward for a brief moment, turning that last "Hmp" into a series of grunting chuckles.
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"Harsk, BakBat," Cal nods in a simple male-to-male acknowledgement greeting to both.
"Oh, to be so lucky as to have a mission be nothin' but pretty ladies," Cal gives an ear-to-ear grin at the thought - but also at the backhanded compliment from Itka.
"But to be fair, darlin', I try to be friendly to everyone." With his permanent smile and happy-go-lucky style, it's hard to tell if that's the truth, though it certainly seems plausible.
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"Yes, we do that too," says a small voice from a smaller silvery-blue kobold. "O-opposite approaches, I mean."
He looks up nervously at the much taller half-orc, and slides a little closer to Callaverthorna.
"I'm Kaz. This is Zak--at least, that's the only name he's ever given me. I still think he's just making fun of my name. I saved him once and we got kind of... stuck together."
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"Kaz, Zak, Itka, Akti," Cal sing-songs as he shakes hands (and pets a small furry head) all around.
"You saved him, once, eh?" he asks Kaz. "And he's a pixie at that. I bet that's a story worth hearin'." Cal peers around the camp to make sure no "Management-types" are watching them too closely. "Looks like we got plenty o' time 'till they need us, too."
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"Not a pixie," says Zak grumpily.
"He used to be smaller," Kaz explains, "someone captured him, some kind of wizard we think, and locked him in a small cage. She was outright boasting to her friends about it, talking about the experiments she was going to do with him. I don't know if she didn't notice that I was sitting nearby or didn't care. I sneaked into her room and broke the lock on the cage. He left without a word, and I decided to get away from there too. Don't want an angry wizard after you!
"But a few days later I had a dream--"
"Not a dream," Zak interjects.
"There was, I don't know, a very tall woman in green? It's so hard to picture her now. She said she was his mother--"
"Not my mother,"
"--and thanked me for helping him. As my reward, or his punishment, or to keep him safe, or for mutual projection, or just because she thought it was funny--"
"That one."
"--she said we would be bound together. And get strength from each other. He's bigger because he gets strength from me, although I've never been quite clear on how that makes him bigger and stronger than I am."
Zak sighs heavily and dramatically. "You're huge compared to my true size, and you smashed the lock that caged me with your bare hands. To me your are emblematic of the physicality of the material world and the mortals here and so that strength and size are the aspects I draw from you, as you wonder at the magic of the First World and draw more magical power thence than I do, as for you I am a symbol of magic. It is the nature of our bond that we are empowered, so clearly we must draw more power than the other possesses though of that same archetype."
"Oh yes. Clearly." Kaz shrugs. "He explains very little when I want him too, but sometimes my ignorance annoys him and I get... that."
Zak slumps against a tentpole, which barely wavers as his small, slight figure drops against it. "And this form is so big and huge and heavy and big that I can barely fly."
Kaz winks at Cal, then says dramatically without looking back at the oversized sprite. "But he's sooooo strong now. It's very impressive. And you should see him fight! We used to want to travel because we were afraid of the wizard who captured him, but we're not afraid of her any more because Zak is so powerful. And strong!"
Zak smiles to himself and says quietly, "I am really strong now, though."
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Zak sighs heavily and dramatically. "You're huge compared to my true size, and you smashed the lock that caged me with your bare hands. To me your are emblematic of the physicality of the material world and the mortals here and so that strength and size are the aspects I draw from you, as you wonder at the magic of the First World and draw more magical power thence than I do, as for you I am a symbol of magic. It is the nature of our bond that we are empowered, so clearly we must draw more power than the other possesses though of that same archetype."
Itka nods along with Zak's explanation. "Hmp. Interesting. And the power each of you draws from the other seems to be amplified somehow, and all without draining any of the core essence from either of the sources. Fascinating. Hmp. That lady in green... Do you know who she is, Zak?"
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Cal listens to Kaz's and Zak's story with interest, distracted only by the occasional bit of attractive scenery that wanders by. He nods in agreement at Harsk's observation about size before pointing out that except for Itka, so far this team is all small-sized folk.
"My apologies for callin' ya' a pixie, Zak. Ya' are indeed far bigger and stronger than any pix I've met." He gives Kaz a knowing smile and wink in return.
Cal sets down the rope he'd been coiling, scowls dramatically at it, then picks it up and starts over. "Wound it the wrong way, wouldn't ya' know. Gonna have to start over." It's unclear if he's being overly picky about the job he'd done, or if he's just killing time and making it look like he's working. (Almost certainly the later, but you'd be hard pressed to prove it.)
"So you were runnin' from an angry wizard and joined the Pathfinders to keep movin'. I get that. Truly." He stops to pick something out of the rope's fibers (but was there really anything there?) and continues. "I had to join up to keep some folks off me back, too, and I’ve come to find that the Pathfinders are always a good refuge between gigs."
"See, I'd been stayin' at the manor of the Marquissa Amanetta Hachijo, the fine and lovely daughter of some Tian immigrants who’d made a tidy fortune tradin’ over the Crown of the World." The way he waggles his eyebrows as he describes the Marquissa leaves no doubt as to why he was living there. "The family’s wealth an’ influence got 'em a noble title from old Queen Ileosa, and their great reputation in the city meant that no one begrudged 'em that. It was good livin' for me in the guest house, keepin' the Marquissa 'happy', bein' a guest at all her parties, but still free to live and be me-self."
”Ooh, hey, Nannette! Take a break from all that work and hear me story. It’s just getting’ to the good part,” he calls out to a passing young catfolk gal. She sidles in next to the cheery gnome with a shy smile to everyone, offers him some water from her waterskin, and turns her big brown eyes to him attentively.
”So there I was, livin’ large {chuckle} as the long-term house guest of the Marquissa. That is… until Amanetta’s brother came back from Minkai. Hachijo Nagoka,” Cal practically spits the name, though he does pronounce it correctly. ”I don’ know why he always insisted on usin’ the Tian style o’ his name, in spite of their parents’ havin’ adopted the Avistani way; anyway he didn’t like me. Truth be told, I don’t really know why.” He gives Nannette and the rest of you his best, most innocent look.
”But either way, sweet Amanetta refused to kick me out, so Nagoka {ptuh} framed me for stealing from the family. Me!!?? Admittedly, I’d mayyyybe taken a few liberties with some few small things - silverware, and whatnot. But c’mon, after living there for soooo long, it’s not like some of it wasn’t mine anyway, right?” He searches the faces of the gathering group for sympathy, and if no one else agrees, at least Nannette does. He graces her with a broad smile. ”See, you get it, don’cha. {Sigh} Alas, in the face o’ the trumped-up evidence, me sweet Amanetta relented and agreed that I should go. But… that foul samurai had men already waitin’ outside o’ the guest house for his signal to ‘evict’ me - to Hell. They were plannin’ to kill me in me sleep!”
”But, what they didn’t count on was that me companions for the night were none other than a couple o’ famous - but now retired - Pathfinder agents: Zarnel the Torn and the lovely Lady Vanessa Reizende. The three o’ us (well, to be honest, it was mostly them, but I helped!) - they made light work of the assassins. O’ course, it was clear then that I couldn’t stay there any longer. {dramatic sigh} Zarnel and Her Ladyship took me to the Riddleport Lodge, got me inducted into the Society, and sent me right off to the Grand Lodge for me Initiation.”
The couch-surfing klepto Cassanova graciously accepts another sip from Nannette to ease his throat. ”Don’t get me wrong, I’m always happy for when change comes ‘round. New and different is always a joy,” he emphasizes with a wink at the shy catfolk girl who ducks her head into his shoulder. ”And I’ve got to give it to the Society, I do like that the Lodges have free room and board for when I’m moving about between sponsors.”
As he slips his arm around Nannette’s slim furred waist he finishes. ”But it’s really the fine and wonderful folk that I get to meet and work with that make bein’ a Pathfinder worth the danger.”
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Hey. The half-drow comes up to you and nods. He is strongly built and prefers clothes that do not restrict his movements (when the weather allows, he often walks with a naked torso). He has silver hair, gray-brown skin and unusual amber eyes. Name's Zizarc. Stealth, assassinations, scrolls and libraries. Having explained his specialty, he immediately steps aside and sits down. It seems that he has just arrived from another mission and has not had time to recover completely yet.
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"Welcome to ya', Zizarc," Cal acknowledges the new-comer and introduces everyone around.
Nannette leans in and whispers something to Cal.
"I think yer' right my dear. It does look like the Captains are getttin' ready to move us out," he answers even as he reaches up and strokes the soft fur at the back of her head.
The catfolk girl whispers something else to Cal, hands him a small vial, then whispers one more thing before dashing off with a giggle.
A small army of Pathfinders, you among them, wade ashore as the the Society’s expedition makes landfall. Venture-Captains and society faction leaders--many of them familiar to you--immediately begin directing Pathfinders in the myriad tasks that need to be done...
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Pathfinders hurry around the makeshift camp, packing and unpacking supplies, making repairs, and scribing scrolls.
The atmosphere is excited but tinged with some trepidation. Venture-Captain Oraiah Tolal from Nirmathas takes the lead, ensuring everyone has an assignment and is working on it. A religious symbol of Alseta—goddess of doorways, portals, thresholds, and transitions—hangs from her neck, showing two faces in profile.
"Thank you coming here, Pathfinders. Before we begin, we need to prepare our supplies. Please, help out however you can."
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"Hmp. No one likes squashed rations; they're even less palatable than usual. And keep the feed for the animals separate from our food. Grains look like grains, but we have specific quantities for each."
"Hmp." Itka eases herself onto a crate to help sort vials into sets for each group.
"Hmp. I've not studied maps as much as I should, but it can't hurt to take a look."
"Hmp. I'm a frail woman with a limp and a cane. I've survived this long. So can you."
Once again easing onto a crate, Itka takes her time double checking that ropes aren't frayed, leather tack isn't cracked, and tent poles are whole.
"Hmp. Favorite topic, eh?" Itka selects a scroll on the machinations of politics amongst the fey and settles in for some light reading.
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"We need to be careful packing the food and keeping track of the things that go together, too."
"And now we can all see that you used to scavenge garbage."
"...is that obvious? Bread and fruit go together."
"Not when you're storing them!"
"Oooh, what kind of potions do we have?"
"We've done a lot of traveling, you know."
"So has everyone here. This is the Pathfinder Society."
"Yes, but still."
"This is a little scary, I have to agree."
"Not helpful."
"Oh, but isn't everything we do scary? That's what we signed up for!"
"Still not helpful."
"But it's so exciting to find new places!"
"I've been there."
"That's right! My friend has been there, and the first time he ever got in trouble was because he met a mean elf who knew a few cantrips after coming here. He thinks our world is much more dangerous and he wants to go back!"
"No--that's--I guess that's all true."
"Okay, this one really isn't our thing."
"I've been doing most of the work! ...but I have to agree."
Skip
"You should know this stuff Zak."
"It's probably all different by now."
"Fine, let me see..."
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Cal approaches Mahki and VC Torrsen. He scratches the dog behind the ears as he palms the pooch a bit of meat that he may or may not have nicked from the supplies just as Itka was inventorying the jerky. He studies the maps and peers up and down the beach.
"I dunno, Cap'n, seems to me that rill ain't even on this map. That or we're not where we think we are."
He wanders off with a last pat on Mahki's head and finds VC Benarry working a group of newbies. He takes over and gives them a rousing speech designed to appeal to the very reasons they joined the Society to begin with.
Not really very good at much else, he finds himself over where Nannette is working at the healer's tent. Focusing as much on the work as his cute companion, he does manage to help them get their supplies in order.
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Itka quickly picks out the rotten mead and Pathfinder agents quickly clear them away. Urwal sniffs at some of the grains. "Ah, excellent work. Now we'll be well fed."
Kaz quickly sorts the vials by magical tradition, color, height, and taste (tart to sweet.) Zak disagrees with the tasting, but Itka points out it's usually safe to sample vials.
Cal's speech grabs the neophytes' attention and soon forms into a crowd, eager to help him and any Pathfinders they can. But especially Cal.
Harsk grabs a few crates and quickly moves them into place, earning Venture-Captain Khoumrock Blackthane's thanks. "Make sure they don't tip over... good, perfect!"
The team reconvenes and realizes they have a few rewards to acquire:
With BakBat's critical eye, Fola Braun finds an abundance of magical materials to craft into more healing potions.
BakBat is able to make sense of the maps, and notices a few differences in terrain.
- Inventory: Success
- Magical Supplies: Critical Success!
- Mapping: Success
- Morale: Critical Success!
- Repairs: Success
- Research: Success
Everyone gathers around a makeshift stage as the sun starts to slip below the horizon. Pathfinders whisper to each other in anticipation.
Venture-Captain Oraiah Tolal addresses the group. “Pathfinders, our expedition begins tomorrow. We have a day’s travel to reach the site where we will find the Door of Seasons. The founders of our Society may have been unable to reach the realm that lies beyond this magical gateway, but we have something they lacked.” The Venture-Captain holds a verdant crown aloft. “This is the Perennial Crown, an artifact that will serve as the key to opening the door. I hope that Alseta will bless us as we find this doorway to a new place. From what we’ve been able to gather, there’s a demiplane on the other side. The demiplane and the crown alike are closely tied to the Thorned Monarch, Qxal, an evil fey who once terrorized this region. The Pathfinders who recovered this crown faced steep opposition from the Monarch, and I have no doubt they will defend the Door of Seasons even more fiercely. Be wary any fey you see along the way; they are likely to be working for Qxal. Stay in groups of four or more for safety and help each other. Make any final preparations that you require and get a good night’s sleep; your next few nights will be on the trail. We leave an hour after dawn.”
Day breaks, and the excitement around the camp is too high to allow any Pathfinder to oversleep. Agents perform morning rituals, eat breakfast, and take a final look through maps and plans. Venture-Captain Oraiah Tolal gathers everyone together one last time. “I know that we’ve prepared well. We’re going to stop this Thorned Monarch. I have a small gift for each of you: a signal whistle with an engraving of the Perennial Crown. Use it to signal your fellow Pathfinders if you need help. And now, into the wilderness!”
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You begin the expedition and catch up to Calisro Benarry. She offers a flask from her coat pocket. “How you holding up, Pathfinders? Anyone need a little nip?” She takes a swig. “There are some real green agents on this mission. I don’t think they even know which end of a spyglass to look through. I just saw a group head that way looking like lost puppies. Can you make sure they’re not getting themselves into trouble?”
You catch up to the Pathfinder crew as they approach a stream. "Ah, hello!" One of them waves. "We're going to check out a cave right over there." She points across the way. "Come on, let's go.
Benarry warned you to keep an eye out for them. Is there danger about?
Itka's words and face shocks them briefly. "Whoa, she's scary... but she's a bad liar. Hehe, you almost got us!" One of the agents grins and turns back towards the raging river.
Bakbat's eyes pierce right through the illusion, noticing the strong current and the pile of rocks by the edge of the waterfall. Sadly no one is listening to the warning.
Zak holds Kaz at bay and watches the gullible Pathfinders heading towards the river.
Each of you have 1 chance each to convince the novice Pathfinders to stop.
- A Fey Lore (or similar Lore) check to explain that the Thorned Monarch is using fey magic to be tricky.
- A Diplomacy check to convince the Pathfinders that fording the river is a bad idea.
- A Intimidation check to cow the Pathfinders into going a different way.
- A Nature or Survival check to give evidence that the river must be moving much more swiftly than it looks.
Itka: Success
BakBat: Failure
Kaz and Zak
Cal
Zizarc
Harsk
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Cal rises early and sees Nannette off with a pat on the catgirl's rump. He strolls out amongst the team and other Pathfinderss refreshed and ready for the Big Day.
"Oh, aye, Cap'n, don't mind if I do," he says as he takes a sip from the VC's flask. "Hmm, that hits the spot." As he returns the flask, he hears his teammates trying to convince the newbies not to cross the stream.
Kaz calls out to them, as they look at the fey guardian. "Yeah, he's probably trying to trick us! I bet Qxal has hidden some superweapon over there!" The Pathfinders nod and continue towards the raging rapids.
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Cal casually pockets his flask as he shakes his head at the sheer stupidity of the new agents. He reaches up and sets his Oni mask down from the brim of his hat and dismisses the illusion hiding his armor revealing the eerie runes and unreadable alien scrawl that decorates it. Hanging at his side as he strides toward the noobs, Itka notices the severed and blackened hand that she'd loaned Cal, though he doesn't bother using that against these...
"Fools. Fools and fops, you're all bein'. A Senior agent - no, make it three senior agents - just warned ya' against goin' that way. An' what are ya' doin'? Ignoring the voices of experience! What do ya' think kept these agents alive on so many missions - their good looks?" He tries to hide the small smirk, and succeeds as far as he knows.
"Now. Get. Over. Here. Away from the river." He punctuates each word with a downward stab of his hand at the grassy spot in front of his feet.
"Geez!" One of the agents reels back like she had a heart attack. "But.. but it's a stream..." the agents begin mumbling as Cal talks them down.
Zizarc sees the stone splash and sweep across to the edge of the waterfall before teetering off.
The new agents see the pebble splash in and calmly sink down.
Itka: Success
BakBat: Failure
Kaz and Zak: Failure
Cal: Success
Zizarc: Failure
Harsk
Harsk decides it's time to take a more physical approach, holding Charles the Cerulean Cardsmith by the arm.
"What the?!" He cries out. "Unhand me!"
The others reach for their weapons. "Do you think Qaxl brainwashed them or something? We gotta save Charles!" Joan the Jolly pulls out her club.
"Alright, but don't kill them, maybe the Venture-Captains can free them afterward." Jonas Skycyan pulls out his own club.
The started Pathfinders move quickly.
Charles the Cerulean tries to break free from Harsk's grip.
Realizing that is going nowhere, Charles draws his dagger and tries to bonk Harsk with the pummel. "Sorry about this, old chap."
Joan the Jolly moves up to Harsk and has enough time to get a single swing with her club.
"Qaxl has tricked you, my friend!" Jonas Skycyan moves up to Harsk and draws his own club. "I'm so sorry about this."
Olle the Tracker holds their ground, pulls out a longbow and takes aim at Cal. Cal is in no mood to be shot, so it doesn't happen.
Charles the Cerulean (Dark Blue, Grabbed by Harsk)
Joan the Jolly (Green)
Jonas Skycyan (Light Blue)
Olle the Tracker (Orange, Hunt Prey on Cal)
Cal
Harsk (26 Nonlethal, Grabbing Charles)
Ikta
BakBat
Zizarc
Kaz and Zak