This is the game thread for [Gameday XII] PFS 2-19 Enter the Pallid Peak - author run. Play begins Sept. 4.
You have arrived in Olfden, one of the safest towns in Andoran’s Darkmoon Vale at the request of Venture-Captain Luna Aldred. As you make your way through town, the streets of Olfden bustle with activity. Shopkeepers call out for attention, promising only the very best wares. In front of the Pathfinder lodge on the outskirts of town stands a statue of a woman wielding a blade and a wand, furiously battling a group of humanoid wolves. Several stone wolves lie dead at the statue’s base, but it’s clear the woman is being overwhelmed. As if to give voice to the fallen wolves, a chorus of deep barks echoes from a walled yard behind the lodge.
Olfden’s Pathfinder Lodge, Silver Moon Sanctuary, is decorated with trophies from Luna’s adventuring days, as well as gifts from grateful townsfolk. When you enter, Luna waves you into a homey reading room with an assortment of plush chairs and side tables haphazardly piled with books, where she waits. She’s an older woman with startling yellow eyes. It’s immediately clear that she’s the woman depicted in the statue outside.
Venture-Captain Luna Aldred sets down her steaming mug as she leans back in her chair. She smiles and gestures for everyone to find seats as she props her feet up on a padded stool and reaches down for her knitting. She looks like the picture of retirement, but a sword hilt and wand poke out of the basket of yarn at her side.
“Welcome to Silver Moon Sanctuary,” she says. “Olfden doesn’t see as much activity as some lodges, but I’m always happy to see agents. I recently learned a group of prospectors discovered an entrance to what may be an old dwarven ruin on Droskar’s Crag. It could be part of a much larger complex and may hold significant historical value.”
Her silver knitting needles click as she continues.
“I’d like you to take a look, see what you can find. Oh! It’s probably not a surprise, but it sounds like you’ll be sticking your hand in the wolf’s jaws. The prospectors didn’t all make it back out.”
Luna shakes her head sadly. “I couldn’t get many details of what happened—the survivor is pretty upset; I had to push a pocketful of gold on him and swear nobody would get hurt before he would draw a map—but maybe you’ll have more luck. He’s been staying down the street at the Silver Bulette inn, if you want to talk to him.”
She sets down her knitting and sits up, yellow eyes intense as she emphasizes her next words.
“I don’t know how big this place is, so don’t go too deep. Explore as much as you can, but I don’t want to send a recovery team in a month just to find out you’ve followed some path to a fey party in the Vale. Clear out any threats and make a note of any tunnels leading deeper into the mountain, but save them for another expedition. All right?”
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It takes a second for Luna to spot the first arrival; judging by the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs of the building, she likely expects a hulking figure that barely fits through the doorway, and thus has to lower her eyes to spot the figure that does enter: a small humanoid, barely over three feet tall, clad in metal armor and covered in an assortment of miscellaneous equipment, and an oversized dark pumpkin for a head with two large circular holes, slightly glowing with red light, vaguely approximating eyes. Their armor is covered in snaking vines and is constructed in such a way that it's hard to tell where the armor ends and where you expect their body to begin. In the center of his armor's chestpiece, between the seams of joints, there is a bright white glow and a soft electrical hum.
Methodically, they make their way across the room, each step making a number of loud clinking sounds as the various pieces of metal collide to hinder--or perhaps aid, it's difficult to tell--their movement.
Upon reaching the reading room, they approach a chair, but stop before sitting down, realizing the logistical hurdle it is for someone his size to actually sit. Looking around the room, he finds the shortest side table, eyes it for a second to make sure it would support his weight, carefully removes each book from atop it into an identical pile on the floor, and then uses the side table to climb atop on the chairs, nearly sinking completely into the soft chair itself. They nod along to the mission briefing, but mostly stay quiet, taking mental notes of each piece of information.
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A rough-looking half-orc enters the room. He wears worn leathers, and has a sword at his left hip. A hunting horn hangs at his right. He carries himself like a soldier, eyes ever alert for potential danger.
At Luna’s invitation, he gives her a curt nod. ”Fanks, Cap’n”, he says, and finds a seat.
After the briefing, he nods again, then turns to the others.
”Kosh Bracken”, he says, by way of introduction. ” ‘Fore I joined the ‘Ciety, I was a mercenary, scout, patched up fellas like you lot. Now I just get paid betta!”
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The figure sinking into the cushions leans out and, with an almost mechanical motion, extends a hand to the newcomer. "Hallow Orevine, machinist. A pleasure to meet you." He has no mouth, and when he speaks, the glowing red light from his eyes pulses a bit with the syllables. "Although I would guess you haven't patched up someone exactly like me, but I am open to being proven wrong."
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The figure sinking into the cushions leans out and, with an almost mechanical motion, extends a hand to the newcomer. "Hallow Orevine, machinist. A pleasure to meet you." He has no mouth, and when he speaks, the glowing red light from his eyes pulses a bit with the syllables. "Although I would guess you haven't patched up someone exactly like me, but I am open to being proven wrong."
Kosh hesitates a moment, then grips the hand. ”’At’s a new one by me”, he says, ”but I don’t fink yer undead, so I like yer chances”
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A stout male dwarf with a flaming red beard and mustache and hair in a mohawk strides in dressed in chainmail armor with a greataxe firmly in his grip. "Heard ye mighta discovered an ole dwarven ruin on Droskar’s Crag, Venture-Captain. I be here ta lend uh hand as I hail from the area, the Five Kings Mountains, that tis." He glares around the room and his piercing crazed-looking eyes seem to take the measure of everyone present. Upon closer inspection, facial tattoos which appear tribal, completely cover his entire face and it appears he has a tattoo of a wyvern on his left bicep with the tail wrapped around and down his forearm.
"Brundar Bloodblade tis my name." He stays standing but moves to put his back up against a wall and places the haft end of the greataxe on the floor while resting his arms across the top of the head. "What be the prospectors name?"
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"Jessa Stanton," says an armored human with dark hair, armed with sword and shield. "My parents are retired Pathfinders, and I'm trained by my father. My mother's apprentice also joined up with me, though he and I ended up taking different assignments so I haven't seen him in a while.
"This sounds pretty straightforward." Though the line between areas they were supposed to "clear out" and areas they were supposed to avoid seemed... blurry.
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The figure sinking into the cushions leans out and, with an almost mechanical motion, extends a hand to the newcomer. "Hallow Orevine, machinist. A pleasure to meet you." He has no mouth, and when he speaks, the glowing red light from his eyes pulses a bit with the syllables. "Although I would guess you haven't patched up someone exactly like me, but I am open to being proven wrong."Kosh hesitates a moment, then grips the hand. ”’At’s a new one by me”, he says, ”but I don’t fink yer undead, so I like yer chances”
They laugh, slightly mechanically, the glowing spots in their eyeholes forming crescents pointing up. "You would be right about that, do not worry."
A stout male dwarf with a flaming red beard and mustache and hair in a mohawk strides in dressed in chainmail armor with a greataxe firmly in his grip. "Heard ye mighta discovered an ole dwarven ruin on Droskar’s Crag, Venture-Captain. I be here ta lend uh hand as I hail from the area, the Five Kings Mountains, that tis." He glares around the room and his piercing crazed-looking eyes seem to take the measure of everyone present. Upon closer inspection, facial tattoos which appear tribal, completely cover his entire face and it appears he has a tattoo of a wyvern on his left bicep with the tail wrapped around and down his forearm.
They rotate around to look at the dwarf, their head turning nearly completely around. "I am also from the Five Kings Mountains, actually. Sort of. I was found and largely grew up in the foothill lumber mills, but was trained in smithing within the caves. What region are you from?"
Neither Hallow nor Brundar know much about this specific region, despite their ties to the general area.
"He's a half-orc man named Elsitt," the venture-captain replies. [b]"His two friends were a gnome named Gethel and a human woman named Floria. Like I said, Elsitt was pretty upset. The trio were used to handling themselves in the mountains, but they weren’t expecting whatever they found.”
Again, Hallow and Brundar can't think of anything in particular about the area.
If no one has anymore questions, Luna wishes you well on the mission and bids you farewell.
You can find Elsitt Treddy at the Silver Bulette, a large inn with an expansive tavern on the first floor. The rugged half-orc is well into his cups of dwarven whiskey as he mourns his slain friends. He looks up blearily when you approach, eyes red-rimmed from crying.
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Hallow enters the tavern with a fair bit of confidence, walking with the same heavy steps as he usually does. However, while he does pride himself on finding solutions to even the most difficult of problems, he also has the sense to know where his limitations lie, and when he sees the mourning, half-drunk adventurer at the bar, realizes that perhaps one of his comrades would be better suited to this particular piece of their mission, slowing down as to be towards the back of the group. He has heaps of questions, but those could wait until one of the other Pathfinders had comforted him from his grief enough to be able to answer them.
"Are any of you good at... talking?" he asks the group quietly. "It definitely is not my strong suit."
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"No," says Jessa, "You've got the wrong Stanton for that. You want my brother for that kind of thing. But I've got a sword!" she starts to take a confident step towards Elsitt and immediately falters. "Uh, I'm not going to threaten him. I mean--the sword--I mean the sword is--we can make a point about-- Okay. If his friends were killed by something dangerous there, sending people better equipped for fighting to take it out should be something he wants. Depending on how he is we might want to frame it as mostly about vengeance or about protecting other people from meeting the same fate, but either way. We need to convince him we can handle it. Hence the sword. That's my point."
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Kosh orders two whiskeys at the bar, and walks up to him.
”Elsitt?”, he asks quietly. ”’Eard about your mates. Sorry ‘bout dat. Lost some m’self”
He sets one of the drinks in front of him.
Upon seeing Kosh greet their contact, Hallow relaxes as if breathing a sigh of relief, although suddenly his allies realize that they haven't actually noticed him breathing at all. He walks up to the bar and climbs up one of the stools, opens up the top of his head, and carefully removes an ornate dwarven-styled warhammer, setting it down on the ground next to him. "A dwarven whiskey for myself as well." Upon receiving it, he reopens the top of his head and carefully starts pouring it in.
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Never had Dwarven whisky, but I'll give it a try! notes a shimmery, copper-hued kobold, who had seemed to be merely working with the staff of the Silver Moon Sanctuary, or later of the Silver Bulette, but does seem to be a Pathfinder Society member.
Qarawyn is a little short as kobolds go, but makes up for it with an adventurous spirit and a potentially unhealthy dose of overconfidence. He gulps the drink down in one swallow and stifles a cough as his eyes go wide. Smooth, he chokes out, clearing his throat. Qarawyn amiably seats himself on the other side of Elsitt from Kosh to listen.
Elsitt lets out a sob at Kosh's words.
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Kosh takes a seat. ”I know it’s ‘ard”, he continues. ”You fink whatcha coulda done to save ‘em, but it don’t matta. So you drink to ‘em, and you keep ‘em wif ya”
He raises his glass, and downs the whiskey.
”Fing is, me an’ dis lot’re headin’ out dat way. Anyfing you can tell us would help. You got some unfinished business wif whateva’s out dere, but we aim to finish it”
"I don't want to talk about it," Elsitt wails. [b]"That job cost my friends their lives. I wish we’d never been there. No matter how much gold I got for the map, it’s not enough. Gethel would’ve disagreed, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for gold.” He drunkenly launches into a story about the ridiculous lengths his slain gnome friend went to for a little gold he thought he spotted in a river, gesturing for you all to join him in a toast as he calls for another round.
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Brundar raises his tankard in a toast and says, "Aye, sparklin' gold 'as been the downfall o' many. Make's the smartest go pea-brained. But's ye gots ta use yer head inna situations.
Let me tell ya, there's we was this one time on the docks an' these fiery creatures were summoned outta nowhere an' started attackin' an' lightin' things on fire. Well fire an' water donna mix so I's thinks ta push one inta the brink an' it just disappears. Simple as that. If'n there was ah cave-in ya think yer friends coulda skedattled down a side passage outta site? Or were ye all attacked by someit. Ye know fer sure they be dead is what I'm gettin' at? Do ye think Gesel was a smart enough Gnome ta survive? How's about any o' the others in ya group? What were they names? Ah toast ta each one o' them."
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"That's actually exactly why we have to go, Elsitt," Jessa says, trying to sound confident but not aggressive, "We're the people who are going take care of whatever monster or dangers you encountered so that it's safe and nobody else gets hurt. We've already promised that we're going, so you can only make us safer by telling us about it. We're not prospectors--we're going into danger on purpose, and we're ready for it.
"My family are all adventurers. I learned swordplay from my father. My mother is a wizard, and... it's not impossible you've heard of them. Joseph and Alice Stanton? They're not the most famous or anything, but they made a bit of a name for themselves. My mother has an apprentice who's starting to get into it as well. Even my little brother, he was a local priest, but one of the strong ones who learns to use some magic and he's good with a bow; he came to our rescue once.
"I know what I'm doing, and so do my friends here. We can handle it, but if you help us we can handle it better."
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Hallow nods as their colleagues speak, trying to find the right things to say. A moment after Jess finishes, they start with their own story. "During my smith training, I also worked as a scout of prospective caves, making sure they were clear before mining and development started. Even before I had put together the first prototypes of this--" they rap on the shoulder of their mechanical armor, "--I was no stranger to cave monsters and the like. I have no doubt that whatever you encountered down there was terrifying, but perhaps if we knew what to expect, we could see it coming and would be able to avenge your fallen comrades."
Elsitt sniffs sadly as you recount your stories, and eventually tells you that “suits of dwarf armor” attacked when the prospectors entered the first room. His friends were killed before they could escape, but the suits of armor did not follow Elsitt outside. [ooc]If anyone would like to attempt to Recall Knowledge on what these armors may have been can let me know their modifier. Crafting is the best skill, but I will consider others. [ooc]
In addition, Elsitt recalls that the ruins were incredibly hot: “it felt like we had stepped into an oven.”
No one's quite sure what type of creature Elsitt is talking about, and it doesn't seem like you'll get any more information out of him. As you go to leave, though, Elsitt calls out. If you bring back his friends’ bodies for a proper burial, he tells you, he’ll give you a share of the money he got from Luna Aldred as a reward. “They shouldn’t be left to rot—or worse—in that place!”
When you're ready, you can depart for an easy trip north to Falcon’s Hollow. You board a boat to travel 25 miles up the River Foam to the Gold Falls Inn at the base of Droskar’s Crag. Unfortunately, as you make your way north, you encounter an unexpected obstacle at the confluence of the Darkmoon River: a log jam blocks the way forward. Log drivers from the Lumber Consortium work furiously to clear the mess, but they’re struggling. A hirsute, muscular halfling roars from atop the logs, “Don’t just stand there gawking! You can’t go anywhere until we clear this, so help already!”
It's a little hard for you to understand why the lumberjacks are having such difficulty at first, as the whole process comes incredibly easy for you, but you soon realize the men and women all seem to be already bandaged, as if they had been in a fight beforehand. Either way, they appear very grateful for your help, and the halfling -- who introduces himself as Boss Pattin -- gratefully invite you to share their camp for the night. Over a hearty stew, he tells their story: “Nothing has gone right on this trip," he grumbles. "Couple days ago, duergar raiders attacked, tried to take us prisoner! We sent them back up the Crag, but they left us bloodied. That’s why this mess happened.”
The log drivers also offer a reward, with a half-joking admonition to not let any higher-ups in the Lumber Consortium know. They hand over a satchel containing a lesser leaper’s elixir, a sunrod, and a minor elixir of life.
"Not sure," the halfling replies around a mouthful of food. "It was dark, and chaotic. It seemed like they were everywhere. I know we sent a handful running off, though."
"No, they attacked us in the forest," he says, gesturing to the northeast, from where they were bringing the logs downriver.