“Our manuscripts are sacrosanct! You must make an example of this thief!”
The voice echoes off walls where packed bookshelves compete for space with religious icons and statues. You have come to the Pathfinder Lodge in the Andoran city of Almas, a former cathedral of Aroden, now one of the Society’s foremost libraries. Wystorn Telfyr, librarian of the lodge, continues to rage. “I don’t expect you field agent types to grasp the gravity of such a theft.” Behind Telfyr, Venture-Captain Brackett winces and tries to smile apologetically.
“Somehow a thief sneaked past the wards of our reliquary,” continues the librarian, “and stole the Fleshforge Manuscript, a priceless example of the illuminator’s art, embellished in rare inks and exquisite gilt. Certain scholars of the arcane arts—myself excluded, of course—might also perhaps covet it for its content. The Fleshforge Manuscript details how Nex’s fleshforges in Ecanus supplied monstrous beasts for its ancient war with Geb. I myself have a modicum of talent for constructs.” Telfyr gestures immodestly toward several homunculi shelving books around the library. “Yet I freely admit this manuscript has proven beyond even my comprehension.”
Venture-Captain Brackett unfurls a map on a table. “Thank you for favoring us with your presence so swiftly, fellow Pathfinders. Divination pinpoints the manuscript on a tiny island off Nex’s barren coast—the Monastery of the Unremitting Tide—here. The mission is twofold. Return the Fleshforge Manuscript safely back to the Society, and ensure this thief will never try to steal it again. Questions?”
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The ratfolk's elegant yet simple attire betrayed a preference for function over decoration, but by the quality of his threads one could quickly guess that The Echange envoy had privileged connections in the trade of textiles and leathers.
Effortlessly vaulting over the map table to settle on the shoulders of a seven-foot tall stone depiction of a young female saint, he peered intently on the map of the island, noting its proximity (or lack thereof) to maritime trade routes.
After several moments he asked, "Do you happen to know a way in or out of this island? Do they receive supplies or are we dealing with a crazed undead congregation?"
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A tall cloaked dude steps forth from the shadows in the corner of the room. He removes the hood on his cloak to reveal long, wavy dark hair and a face with sharp Elven features…
”While I might not appreciate the gravity of the theft, I can appreciate this thief’s skill in purloining this manuscript and escaping undetected. Did you find anything of note, tracks or anything, at the crime scene that might give us a better idea of how they snatched it? Or any signs of what kinda person or creature we’re looking for?”
Belatedly, he bows, saying, ”Excuse my manners; Daedîn, at your service…”
"What are you doing, get down from there!" Telfyr snaps at the sudden statuary scaling. Brackett pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed.
"At least get the cobwebs while you're up there." the venture captain sighs. "I'm afraid we don't know who the thief is or how they managed the crime. The divination only pointed to the monastery, not that the monks there are responsible."
"If the thief is a monk, then at least it is someone with an appreciation for the artistry of the scroll. A worst case would be some foul mage of great talent, seeking to decipher the text and recreate the nightmare creatures detailed within." Telfyr waves a hand dismissively. "Still, I doubt the document alone would be enough to do so."
Raising his voice slightly, Brackett addresses Skivven's question further. "With luck, you'll be able to negotiate your way into the monastery and not find a horde of horrors. Passage by ship to the island is irregular but not impossible."
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A slightly greyish-green person of orcish descent bearing strange tattoos which appear to be circles and lines looks up from the corner where she was fiddling with some sort of clockwork gadget.
"Does the malfunction appear to be in the wards or in the personnel tasked with maintaining the wards for this facility?"
She pauses for a moment, as if recalling something, the wheels spinning almost visibly in her mind.
"Apologies. I would be referenced as 'Estarra Potts' and am here to provide technical and calibration support as necessary for mission success. It is fervently hoped that we will not require a re-calibration of Pathfinder resources dedicated to this mission like some other operations I have been on."
"Further, do we have any time constraints or requirements beyond those stipulated and do we travel on Society-provided resources or our own? It is quite unlikely that our budget will support transportation castings on a semi-regular basis."
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A bald dwarf in shiny full plate stands next to the map table. He has a brown beard, brown eyes and a birthmark resembling a butterfly on his forehead.
"Well, luck is something I certainly know a thing or two about." he says with a wink, adressing Venture-Captain Brackett. The dwarf turns to the librarian. "Actually, I am quite able to grasp the gravity of such a theft as I scribe a lot of manuscripts myself."
"But hold on, where are my manners?" He bows and introduces himself. "Grunjar, humble cleric of Desna, at your service. May the Lady Luck bless our mission."
The Monastery of the Unremitting Tide is a peaceful order of Vudrani monks dedicated to Irori. The order left Jalmeray for Nex 200 years ago. They revere Irori’s aspects of history and knowledge, focusing less on self-perfection and martial prowess.
"Good, then I can expect you will treat this mission with the seriousness it merits." Telfyr's rhetoric seems slightly abated as the venture captain addresses Estara.
"I'm afraid we do not have the funds available to finance the voyage. I would be more than happy to submit an expense report to the Grand Lodge once you have retrieved the manuscript and I suspect reimbursement would be easily approved."
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"Looks safe, Inga. C'mon out." he says as he holds out a hand to help her out of the wagon.
A young woman in her early twenties steps out from the door of the lead wagon. She lowers the hood of her red riding cloak, revealing her piercing green eyes and straight, shoulder length jet black hair. Her stylish Varisian attire denotes the semblance of a successful traveling merchant.
"For goodness sake, Smörboll. Do you have to be so dramatic?" she says with a roll of her eyes.
"As your bodyguard, I am sworn to your service. I'll guard you, and all you own, with my life." he states, placing a hand over his heart.
Inga rolls her eyes again.
She glances up at the facade of the temple, then turns to help a young girl step out from the wagon behind her. The young girl is almost a splitting image of Inga, but dressed in loose fitting black clothing and a dour expression on her face as if attending a funeral.
"We're here, Junia. Stay close." Inga says as she holds the young girl's hand.
"The weather sure is lovely."
"This is much nicer than the frozen Lands of The Linnorm Kings or the steamy jungles of the Mwangi Expanse." she remarks, then takes in a deep breath of the fresh summer air.
After Inga and Junia, a teenage boy steps out, his thin stature belieing his strength. His arms are loaded with all sorts of adventuring gear and equipment, as well as a few weapons and pieces of armor. He quickly goes to the rear of the vardo, drops the gear on the ground, and unhooks a small four-wheeled wagon about the size of a wheelbarrow. He loads the gear into the small wagon then pulls it behind him by the long handle. He waits near the entrance of the Lodge.
"I'm excited to see who our adventuring companions will be, Inga. I hope there's a fine warrior that will let me assist with their armor and weapons."
"I'm sure there will be, Jeeves. From what you've been learning in your travels, you'll make a great warrior some day." she says with a smile. "I look forward to meeting our new companions as well."
The countess approaches the driver leading the caravan and hands the mustachioed Varisian man a small coin purse.
"Find the best inn nearby and wait there for my return. I shouldn't be more than a week. Maybe we can make a few prosperous deals before we leave town. Make this place a regular stop on our route." she says with a wink and a smile.
"I'll visit the market, Countess, and try to make some contacts there. Safe travels and take care o' yourself and the youngins."
He says before snapping the reins and leading the caravan down the road.
Inga turns to address her group.
"Ready, everyone? I think we may be a bit behind schedule. Let's not keep our new friends inside waiting."
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Inga strides into the meeting room with a soft smile on her face and an air of confidence.
"It appears we are fashionably late yet again. I beg your forgiveness, everyone, but it was quite the long journ—"
Suddenly, a gutteral voice in Inga's mind excitedly calls out to her,
"Oh-my-gods, oh-my-gods! Inga! Is that Grunjar over there!?!"
Excited shouts of "Grunjar!" erupt from Inga's entourage. Junia the dour protégé, Smörboll the Bodyguard, and Jeeves the Porter all rush forward to smother the dwarf cleric with hugs and handshakes.
"CHILDREN!!! SMÖRBOLL!!!" Inga shouts, stomping her foot in anger.
"Restrain yourselves!"
The bodyguard and children quickly calm down.
"Sorry, Inga." the three mutter abashedly in unison. They all look back up at Grunjar with wide grins on their faces.
"It's so nice to see you again, Grunjar." Inga says as she strides forward. She takes the dwarf's hands and gives him a soft kiss on the cheek. "Obviously, we've all missed you very much."
"Tell that dwarven son-of-jackal that I say hello!"
"And, of course, Klaus says hello."
The Countess turns to introduce herself and her entourage to those present.
"I'm sorry for the interruption. Now, where were we?"
"Ah. Yes... Did the divinations reveal anything about the thief? What kind of wards did the reliquary have?"
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The Monastery of the Unremitting Tide is a peaceful order of Vudrani monks dedicated to Irori. The order left Jalmeray for Nex 200 years ago. They revere Irori’s aspects of history and knowledge, focusing less on self-perfection and martial prowess.
The ascerbic librarian looks aghast at the massive entourage gathered in the cathedral lodge, for once unable to muster a scathing retort. Venture Captain Brackett tries not to smile, coughing into his fist. "Thank you for joining us, Inga. We were unable to determine anything identifying the theif. I am told that the chapel holds few, if any wards."
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Inga relays to the group what she knows about Nex.
"Echoes of an ancient war with its undead neighbor Geb define Nex’s wilderness. Plant life still refuses to grow on land touched by Geb’s necromantic blight, and Nex’s own fleshforges were responsible for many of the beasts that still roam its wastelands."
And also what she knows about the monastery.
"The Monastery of the Unremitting Tide is a peaceful order of Vudrani monks dedicated to Irori. The order left Jalmeray for Nex 200 years ago. They revere Irori’s aspects of history and knowledge, focusing less on self-perfection and martial prowess."
Inga turns to the Venture-Captain.
"Sir Brackett, would we be able to search the reliquary for more clues? I might be able to find some psychic signatures left behind by the thief."
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Daedîn nods as they exchange information. ”In addition, I recall hearing that until shortly before the theft, the West Chapel had housed the manuscript. Compared to the reliquary, the chapel is virtually unwarded except for, notably, an ancient hallow spell, cast shortly after Aroden’s death by clergy of Iomedae...”
You seem to know quite a bit about history. Always useful, unless you are caught in a battle. Do you need some protection, Inga?
Drusilla smiles gently at the woman.
Smörboll steps between Inga and the spear maiden. He glares at Drusilla while hefting his axe.
"The Countess has protection." he says sternly.|
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Inga rolls her eyes and gently nudges Smörboll aside.
"Why thank you, Drusilla. You do mean protective spells and equipment, correct?"
Inga cocks her head to the side in puzzlement.
The gutteral voice in Inga's mind lets out a soft growl.
"She means as a bodyguard, Inga. We could use some extra muscle on our caravan."
"Ah. Of course. Tell you what, Dru. I could use some extra muscle for my caravan. I usually pay quite well."
"And, I assure you, travelling with a Varisian caravan is the experience of a lifetime."
Smörboll nods his head.
"Aye. The nighttime revelries are sumthin' else."
"If you think you can find out more than our best diviners were able to, by all means traipse around wasting precious time." The head librarian's fire flares up for a moment before smouldering in mutterings.
"While you are welcome to investigate, we would like you to reach the monastery as soon as possible, in case the culprit moves the manuscript somewhere else." Brackett interjects, trying to counter the fiery outburst with a more reasonable tone. "Have you any other questions?"
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Slightly humiliated, Inga bites her lip after the librarian's outburst. With mouths agape, Smörboll and the children's eyes glance back and forth at Inga and the librarian, knowing full well what could happen next.
The beast in her mind snarls with rage.
"Let me out, Inga!!! Nobody talks to my lady like that!!! I'll rip his arms off and shove 'em down his throat!”
"Hush, Klaus!"
Although tempting, Inga restrains herself from releasing the beast.
"I guess we should head to the monastery on the island right away. I do not have any other questions."
Smörboll and the children breathe a sigh of relief.
"That guy is lucky." Smörboll whispers to Grunjar, nodding towards the librarian.
"Just a few weeks ago, some Sczarni fella tried to cheat Inga on a big business deal. Klaus ripped the poor sod's head off and shoved ectoplasmic residue down his neck."
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Daedîn nods as they exchange information. ”In addition, I recall hearing that until shortly before the theft, the West Chapel had housed the manuscript. Compared to the reliquary, the chapel is virtually unwarded except for, notably, an ancient hallow spell, cast shortly after Aroden’s death by clergy of Iomedae...”
"Interesting... I also heard that the thief ignored all expensive items in the vicinity. With no concept of gold value and Daedîn's note on the perpetrator's potential aversion to holy sites, perhaps we are dealing with a supernatural threat... some kind of fiend or undead? Based on the lack of break in, perhaps also something or someone with plane-hopping or teleporting abilities?"
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I like working on a caravan. I'm not Varisian myself, but I had my fair share of travels, mostly on the Mwangi expanse. Good memories there, even if all wasn't rosy. We had a motley crue of talents in my Pathfinder team, and share many adventures together, but it's a shame we lost contact. That kind of things happen, and of course it was a few years ago, when I started workin" for the Pathfinders.
The tall woman- Dru is a little under six feet tall- must be in her late twenties
And yes, I'm a bodyguard by trade, when I'm not on missions all around Golarion.
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Daedîn nods as they exchange information. ”In addition, I recall hearing that until shortly before the theft, the West Chapel had housed the manuscript. Compared to the reliquary, the chapel is virtually unwarded except for, notably, an ancient hallow spell, cast shortly after Aroden’s death by clergy of Iomedae...”"Interesting... I also heard that the thief ignored all expensive items in the vicinity. With no concept of gold value and Daedîn's note on the perpetrator's potential aversion to holy sites, perhaps we are dealing with a supernatural threat... some kind of fiend or undead? Based on the lack of break in, perhaps also something or someone with plane-hopping or teleporting abilities?"
"That ancient hallow ward could be losing its potency, slowly dissipating over time. By now it may not even have any effect whatsoever."
"Magical beast, undead, or outsider, the thief could be anything. A scullery maid with a scroll of gaseous form or a glabrezu with the greater teleport ability."
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"That ancient hallow ward could be losing its potency, slowly dissipating over time. By now it may not even have any effect whatsoever."
"Magical beast, undead, or outsider, the thief could be anything. A scullery maid with a scroll of gaseous form or a glabrezu with the greater teleport ability."
"Perhaps, in theory. But I do not usually believe in coincidences. The fact that the theft occurred after the item was moved out of the hallowed halls is a clue that should factor in our investigation. Timing is everything."
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"Perhaps, in theory. But I do not usually believe in coincidences. The fact that the theft occurred after the item was moved out of the hallowed halls is a clue that should factor in our investigation. Timing is everything."
"Ah. I missed the part about the manuscript being stolen after it was moved from the hallowed hall. Interesting, indeed."
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"Perhaps a direct investigation of the area where the item in question vanished from may yield further information on the matter?", Estarra offers after seeing the incredibly loud and overly (in her mind) circus arrive.
She stows her tools with a mechanical near-religious precision and hefts her haversack to her shoulders.
"Very well, let's adjourn to the chapel before seeing you on your way." Venture Captain Brackett speaks over the fuming head librarian, before leading the way from the main hall as Telfyr simmers in anger.
Entering into the reliquaries, the scene is filled with many texts and scrolls bearing the signs of history and age. Detection spells reveal no degradation of the wards in place, while no mark of passage can be found via sight or smell.
"The manuscript is a scroll of three sewn sheets of paper, written in Osirian hieroglyphs and illuminated with gold leaf. It was bound to scrimshawed rollers each carved from a human rib and is roughly 150 years old." The venture captain describes the artifact as you complete your investigation. "I believe you can still catch a ship at the docks today, if you are fortunate enough to find one headed that way. Again, I apologize that we do not have the funds to charter one for you."
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"It's a good thing we know exactly what the manuscript looks like." she says after hearing the description.
Inga takes a careful look around for anything out of the ordinary. She also looks for any books that piques her interest.
While she's at it, she'll give a quick scan for undead.
"Just in case."
Cast detect undead.
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"Uh... well, hello!"
Grunjar is a little overwhelmed by the greetings of the entourage. Luckily, Inga quickly reels them in.
"It's great to see you again, everyone! And of course you, Ingri... uh, I mean, Countess Inga. I didn't know you would join us on this mission. What a nice surprise! Tell Claws I say hello, too."
After Inga shares her knowledge, the cleric nods approvingly.
"I read the same about Nex and the monastery, Countess. You are, as always, well informed."
Inga and Grunjar's divinations return exactly what the venture captain said the rest of the society's mages reported, while Estara and Daedin confirm that the wards remain intact and the hidden defenses remain undisturbed. No hint of the thief's passage can be found.
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The trip to the docks is a winding one, but uneventful outside the bustle of Almas' streets. Daedin and Skivven lead the party to the berth where a distinctive figurehead of a winged woman whose outstretched arm melds into a cannon barrel.
Making your way up the gangway, you see a pale-skinned undine looking down with a smile. "If that isn't a Pathfinder crew coming aboard, Besmara take my eyes! What business has fussy ol' Brackett set you on about?"
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Making your way up the gangway, you see a pale-skinned undine looking down with a smile.
"If that isn't a Pathfinder crew coming aboard, Besmara take my eyes! What business has fussy ol' Brackett set you on about?"
Inga helps to usher her entourage up the gangway while Smörboll grumbles about his distaste of traveling on ships.
"Good day, Captain." Inga calls out to Maarin."Captain Brackett will have you escort us to a small island with a monastery off the coast of Nex."
Once on deck, Inga approaches the Captain and speaks quietly.
"Greetings, Captain. I am Countess Inga Blücher." she says with a slight nod.
"I do hope you have comfortable quarters with beds for us to stay in during this journey. We do have an important mission ahead of us."
Implying that a common room with hammocks and shared with sailors will not be good enough.
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The captain looks over the entourage for a moment, before squinting slightly. "I'd be hard pressed to accommodate more than three of you in the captains quarters. Ye'd have to rotate through nights." The serious expression holds only a moment more before she throws her head back in raucous laughter. "We'll get you to that isle quick as we can, to limit your bands discomfort!"
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The captain looks over the entourage for a moment, before squinting slightly. "I'd be hard pressed to accommodate more than three of you in the captains quarters. Ye'd have to rotate through nights." The serious expression holds only a moment more before she throws her head back in raucous laughter. "We'll get you to that isle quick as we can, to limit your band's discomfort!"
The beast within Inga's mind snarls.
"Why that insolent, poor excuse for a captain and her barnacle encrusted barge—""Hush, Klaus. It's alright. Sailors are known to be quite the discourteous kind."
Inga lifts her chin and pays no mind to the Captain's insult.
"Well, I have slept in dark, dank dungeons and treacherous woods. This ship, I'm sure, is much more pleasant than a dungeon. We'll be fine wherever you can put us."
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Skivven thanks the captain for his hospitality, adding "A regular hammock will be quite sufficient for me, Captain, and you can add me to your watch rotation: I'll endeavor to stay out of your crew's way and take orders from whoever you assign me to."
Later during the transit, he approaches Daedîn and shows him the content of his handy haversack's central pocket. "I can not ignore the signs of a sharpshooter when I see one... you are welcome to use these hunting tarpaulins if you need them, or join me up ahead of the pack when I scout. Each one is a ten-foot square and can easily conceal us both simultaneously... especially useful when establishing an advanced sniping position..."
"Firebrand of Freedom/Crusader of Justice,
This Monastery of the Unremitting Tide has a reputation for peaceful scholarship. However, it hides a depravity beneath its veneer of devotion. Someone there is enslaving innocents. Ensure those who treat life as chattel find the justice they deserve.
In the wrong hands, this Fleshforge Manuscript you seek could endanger us all. I would consider several of our rival factions “the wrong hands.” This document proved vulnerable even in Almas. We must take direct action to keep it safe. Thankfully, few can comprehend this document, particularly its final paragraphs. You can make their task impossible. Alter or remove a hieroglyph or two from the end of the manuscript, without alerting your fellow Pathfinders.
For freedom,
Captain Colson Maldris/Ollysta Zadrian"
"Exquisite Flesh Offering,
The stench of treason pervades our house. The inner secrets of our faction are spreading through Ecanus—intimate truths known only to a few of our agents.
Already I have silenced the tongues that dared sell our secrets openly, and planted conflicting disinformation to lay doubt upon their words. I traced the leak back as far as southeastern Nex—your destination. Divinations point to a “tattooed woman” there. Nonetheless, I cannot fathom how our secrets travel from the Inner Sea to Nex. Bring back evidence of the leak’s source. Bring it personally to me—trust none other. Do this, and you may exact whatever punishment you choose upon our traitor.
Irori’s adherents welcome many interpretations of his doctrine. Isa, a priestess at the Monastery of the Unremitting Tide, apparently reveres one of the god’s evil aspects. Ensure she survives your visit and bring me a keepsake suitable for scrying, such as a strand of her hair. There are certain practices we should observe firsthand.
Yours in eternity,
Paracountess Zarta Dralneen"
"Loyal Seeker of Knowledge Pathfinder,
For those skilled enough to wield it, knowledge is a subtle blade. The Monastery of the Unremitting Tide’s library houses one of the most trusted collect ions of history on Garund. Its books hold truths long forgot ten elsewhere. We count the monks among our allies. Traditionally, they have allowed Osirian Grand Lodge scholars occasional access to their bookshelves. Ensure that the library remains safe in the hands of those devoted to its preservation.
One piece of knowledge cannot wait however. The monastery library holds the true final will of one Nerecchus of Jalmeray , an ally of the Qadiran satrapy , and a diviner without peer in his time. Tell me the beneficiary of a certain item he referred to as “the Osirian device”.
To serve is to honor,
Otoneraphim, Humble Scribe of the Ruby Prince
In service to the Ten,
Venture Captain Ambrus Valsin
"Servant of the Satrap,
Truth is a tradable commodity like any other—we match eager buyers with a suitable supply. The Monastery of the Unremitting Tide holds truths our clients would pay dearly to read. Ensure the monastery’s leader receives the enclosed missive. It promises generous riches from the Satrap in return for a brief loan of codices from their library, hopefully the first trade of many.
One particular document cannot wait for this exchange however. The monastery’s library contains an ancient map detailing a hidden pass through Osirion’s Barrier Wall. We alone travel this trade route today, to our rivals’ consternation. We are not eager to share our advantage. Destroy this map.
Kind regards,
Pasha Muhlia Al-Jakri
"Agent of the Empire,
Isa, a priestess of Irori at the Monastery of the Unremitting Tide, is selling Chelish secrets in the alleyways of Ecanus, apparently unaware of their true value. You must reap this unexpected harvest for Taldor’s glory. Specifically, find out from her which of these two supposed Andoren loyalists in Almas actually spies for Cheliax: Mabrias Hoytain or his brother Galidric Hoytain.
Two months ago, one of the Imperial navy’s ships, The Glorious Reaper, failed to return to Oppara following routine maneuvers near Absalom. We suspect mutiny or some noble’s feud. A Garundi trader now reports sighting the ship in the western Obari Ocean not long thereafter. Bring me news of our ship’s location if she still floats, or else evidence of her wreck.
For Taldor!
Baron Jacquo Dalsine"
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The next day Skivven approaches the group over breakfast and after quickly nibbling on a piece of aged cheese, says "Fellow agents, some of my contacts informed me to be on the lookout for an ancient map detailing a pass through Osirion’s Barrier Wall. If you see anything of the kind please kindly inform me. I can similarly help you acquire other previous texts or documents once we are in the library..."
Skivven then visits the captain and...
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"Careful, children." Inga must occasionally warn. "Stay out of the crews' way."
Smörboll's eyes suddenly go wide as he reaches a hand into his pocket to pull out a cigar. He pulls out a missive he had entirely forgotten about.
"Oh! Forgive me, Countess. This came fer ya."
Inga takes the letter and notices the wax seal stamped with the symbol of the Sovereign Court. Opening it, she reads the missive and then stares at the horizon for a moment in thought. She folds the missive tightly several times into a small square, then nonchalantly tucks it into the front of her bustier.
Smörboll finds a fishing pole leaning against the rail of the ship.
"Oh, ho, ho! Gonna try to catch me some fish!" he says excitedly.
"That's nice. I'll see you at supper." Inga says indifferently before continuing her stroll along the top deck.
Over breakfast, after Skivven mentions his faction mission, Inga chimes in.
"Oooh. I will definitely help keep an eye out for your map, Skivven." Inga says eagerly.
"I'm supposed to be on the lookout for a ship named The Glorious Reaper, an Imperial naval ship of Taldor, somewhere in the western Obari ocean. I need to report back whether it still sails or is wrecked somewhere. If any of you spot anything out at sea, It would be greatly appreciated to be informed."
"Mmmm. This grilled sea bass is just divine." she says after savoring a bite and tapping the filet with her fork. "I would never suspect a ship's cook to have lemon, dill, and capers in their pantry."
The rest of the trip is long, but uneventful. The captain calls you up as the ship slides into a sheltered shore on the small isle. A much smaller ship is also moored there, protected from the worst of the ocean winds but well weathered. The perhaps quarter-mile of land is barren of anything interesting save the monastery building.
The monastery’s wooden gates stand tightly sealed. Hundreds of carvings cover the gates, no two of which appear alike. The wood is badly weather-worn in places—split or crumbling. To either side of the gates, wooden walls rise fifteen feet to a peaked terra-cotta roof. Inside, several buildings rise above the wall, including two towers nearly one-hundred feet tall. A nearby crop garden appears overgrown and untended. The plants’ lush growth contrasts starkly with the lifeless waste a stone’s throw away on Nex’s mainland.