Once a group is chosen, post or ghost dot here.
Two weeks ago, Osprey showed up at the Grand Lodge in Absalom, his features shadowed by the long cowl of his heavy leather cloak, his unmistakable voice a sullen whisper of both mystery and urgency.
“A grim shadow creeps over Absalom, one that threatens all of us. We know not its source or even its purpose, and need answers to secrets only known to the dead. Your task is one of great importance and urgency. You must retrieve the bones of the ancient mystic Amao from his cairn and bring them to me so our seers can contact his spirit. We need to contact him before these dark forces track his spirit down in the worlds beyond and devour him. Take extra care on this mission, for the Aspis Consortium also dearly desires these bones and their secrets. Amao’s bones rest in a cairn atop a mountain. Go to Cania’s Drop, a small waystation high in the Fog Peaks along the border of Southern Galt. There you will meet with an ex-Pathfinder named Rysam Aklon who will provide you with equipment and directions to Amao’s cairn. You shall hear from me again once you complete your mission, but for now may the gods speed you on your way.”
Now, here in the foothills of a wintery southern Galt, bitter winds blister skin and numbness settles in to exposed extremities. While Absalom isn’t known for its sunshine, at least its foggy shores are more favorable than the bone- brittling cold of the Fog Peaks. Before you lies your destination, a mountain waystation run by exiles and recluses.
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The door to the office opens, and a petite, human woman steps in. Her straight, shoulder-length black hair shimmers faintly in the lantern light, framing a face marked by striking dark green eyes that catch every detail of the room. She wears a weathered traveler's cloak over a silvery chainshirt, the fabric of the cloak lined with countless pockets that hint at the many tools and trinkets she carries. A sturdy haversack, slightly worn from the road, rests comfortably on her shoulders. Peeking from beneath the cloak are the gleaming edges of a morningstar and a starknife, both ready at her side. Slung across her back is a finely crafted crossbow.
"Greetings, friends. I am Belladonna, faithful servant of Desna, the Great Dreamer. Freedom is my compass, and the open road is both my sanctuary and my battlefield. Born in Andoran, where liberty is not just a word but a way of life, I grew up believing that everyone deserves a chance to chart their own destiny. That belief led me to the Society's Liberty's Edge faction, where I fight to bring freedom to those who cannot reach it themselves."
Suddenly zipping into the room behind her is a little ball of multi-colored flashing lights about the size of a large melon. It hums and buzzes excitedly as it zips around in the air, quick as lightning, to get a closer look at Bella's new teammates. It greets each person individually in their native language, it's voice crackling with electricity,
"HiYa! I'm LiTe-BriTe! PleAseD to MeEt Ya!"
"Oh, and this is Lite-Brite! My little glowing companion who’s more than just a flicker of light. He’s a lantern archon—brilliant and bubbly, always buzzing around with this pretty glow of blues and greens, especially when he’s excited. I summoned him during one of my adventures, and honestly, I think he decided to adopt me just as much as I adopted him.
When summoned, Lite-Brite’s always zipping around and lending his light and courage when needed. He’s an excellent listener—thanks to his truespeech—and he never misses a chance to brighten someone’s day, literally. But don't let his cheerful glow fool you. In a fight, he’s fiercely protective, darting around the battlefield to shield my allies and keep them safe. If you see a shimmer of blue and green light between you and danger, that’s just Lite-Brite, making sure we all make it home."
Lite-brite begins to flicker, slowly fading out of existence.
"Oh noEs, BellA! SuMMon is eXpiRing!"
"Goodbye for now, Lite-bright. I shall summon you when we are in need.” she informs the creature.
"OkAy, ByeeEe!!!"
*poof*
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The elderly scholar, dressed in gear that looks like it belong more on a Khellid warrior than a distinguished professor coughs lights.
"Good day to you again Ms Belladonna, and to you honored Lite-bright."
He looks around the rest of the group, tut tuting as he remembers (for this is one elderly man whose mind forgets little if anything) the grades he gave each of you for your last history assignment.
"Well, there are some things you should all know. Firstly, it is darn cold up there. I, having spent some time in the frozen north, don't expect any problems, however some of the rest of you may need warmer clothes."
In spite of this, he looks to be wearing gear fit for a storm.
"Now, perhaps a bigger problem is the thin air at altitude. Unfortunately given I spend so much time here in Absalom, that may be more of an issue for me. The Fog Peaks climb thousands of feet into the icy skies of eastern Golarion. In the harsh mountain environment rests an isolated waystation called Cania’s Drop. About a mile above sea level, individuals non-acclimated to high altitudes are likely to start to feel the thin air."
"Don't worry about other risks. Bessie and I " here he pats the crossbow at his side "have seen off more than our share of bears. And Aspis agents."
True to form, within an hour or two of reaching the treeline the elderly scholar is wheezing in the too-thin-air.
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While not quite as old as Khellek, Ezren similarly looks like he'd be more comfortable in a library than trekking in the freezing wilderness - and indeed, he's never been on a place as inhospitable as the Fog Peaks.
Yet, he remains absolutely calm as the details of the mission are explained to the group. Occasionally, he takes a silent sip from a steaming cup of homemade tea. Only the sight of Lite-Bright makes him raise a curious - and almost subtly sardonic - eyebrow, that lifts a little higher when Khellek gives a warning about the cold. "Thank you, professor, for that indispensable information," he says softly and without a discernible hint of irony.
He delicately puts his cup down on a saucer before introducing himself. "My name is Ezren. Delighted." He gives everyone a little nod. "I'm a wizard, of course. Though I suppose a ranger of some kind would have been more useful to our party, I'd be glad to accompany you on the way." He takes another sip from his tea.
As it turns out, Ezren's pace on the mountain path is closer to a leisured stroll than an athletic hike. He stops quite often to admire the view. Still - perhaps because he is in no rush, and leans quite frequently on his cane - he seems almost at ease.
He turns around to glance at Khellek with some pity. "Come on, old friend," he says encouragingly. "We may be too old to gallop ahead like that young lady, but I'd say we rather need the exercise! And I'm sure we can have a break once we reach the top of that slope," he waits for Khellek to catch up with him.
"You said it was not your first time in these parts?" he asks politely, hoping to take the old man's mind off his physical pain.
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"Oh, I travelled quite widely in my youth." admits the old man.
"Brough up in Varisia. And still remember a few of the old dance moves from my youth."
For a moment the years seem to leave him, and the air fill his lungs as he tries to demonstrate an elaborate move that would probably be more successful in dance shoes and ballroom floors than hefty boots and ice.
"Where did you grow up? I should be able to place that accent..."
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An imposing human, clad head to toe in red and leaning against a wicked-looking scythe, enters the room just moments before the meeting is scheduled to start. He seems out of breath, and looks as if he has recently been swimming in his armor. He takes a seat and says gruffly to those near him, "They call me the Red Reverend," before turning to face the venture-captain. "Don't ask." He makes no apology for his tardiness, nor does he ask to hear the briefing again.
He does ponder whether it would have been worth it to be even later and fully dried off.
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"Absalom," Ezren answers with a shake of his head. "Not exactly the most exotic of places, I'm afraid. I'd quite like to hear from your birthplace as well, though I doubt I could place it on a map. I haven't spent that much time in Varisia..."
He gives a politely admirative whistle when the old man manages to pull off a pretty decent entrechat despite his heavy boots. "That's quite spry! I'm certainly not that much of a dancer myself... I was never taught."
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"I am delighted of your presence, Khellek. Our previous endeavor was successful, at least to a degree. I am still saddened of the unfortunate souls but I do believe we did our utmost", Miriel politely greets the historian.
she bows gracefully to Belladonna. "Desna and Shelyn have a good relationship, and I see nothing preventing us from similarly amiable cooperation." Then as The Red Reverend enters, she tries to be equally polite. "I welcome you to our expedition. The Pallid Princess and the Eternal Rose have their quarrels, but hopefully on this mission, we find nonconflicting interests."
Miriel is clearly an elf, from her eyes and ears, although her build is more like a half-elf. Her black hair is meticulously arranged, and everything she carries, even her weapons, are spotless and arranged tastefully to complement her outfit. A glimpse of bright silver can be seen beneath the loose white tunic she wears over her armor. The white cloth acts as a background to show her multicolored accessories, including the bird symbol of Shelyn. She also carries a flute on her belt.
She sighs when the task is announced. "An errand for the passed, after the sorrow of yesterday, it is a heavy burden to the soul. Nevertheless, this is what goddess has brought to me, and I devote myself to excel in the retrieval. I suppose the gods have been consulted, as disturbing the deceased otherwise might displease them."
She continues listening the briefing, calm and reserved. But when the old historian starts dancing, her suddenly light up and she claps excitedly, also her tone suddenly bright and light: "That's so good! I didn't know you were that great! I'd play for you but I can't play good enough to match your dance!"
A moment later, she seems to notice what she did, straightens her dress, and returns to her reserved tone. "Ah... I apologize diverting from our preparations. For the temperature, I can request protection from my goddess, but my connection to the divine is not sufficient to support the entire expedition, only to two participants."
The group finds a small cabin at the waystation, just before sunset, after spotting a wisp of chimney smoke. Outside the cabin are rows of sleeping sled dogs, curled up together in the deep snow. The few strangers out in the cold eye the PCs with a mixture of nervousness and naked fear. As they approach the cabin, they are immediately approached by a burly man with a shock of wild curly black hair, with strong, rough features that jut through his scraggly, unshorn beard. With ebon eyes gleaming beneath a low-sloped brow, and a demeanor burning bitter as the highland winds, he introduces himself as Rysam Aklon.
”Whatcha here for?”
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"We were provided with the information that a contact recognized by the name Rysam Aklon, whom we now apparently have discovered, could provide us directions and equipment toward our destination. ", Miriel continues where others left off, until she notices the dogs.
"Oh, the dogs are so cute! Are they yours? They're so fluffy!" she continues, switching to exited tone, as she admires the sledge dogs.
He grunts, ”Hrmm, aight. Come on in, I’ll load ya up with what we got. I’d suggest ya wait to daybreak tho. But don’t ya worry, you’ll get to see the dogs up close as they’ll be takin ya up the mountain.
There are a couple noses pressed against the window of the cabin watching the group from the warmth inside.
"You?.." pants Khellek ".. are available to guide us?" he asks, hopefully. Even as he is talking he is eyeing the dogs with a doubtful expression on his face.
He chuckles, ”If by ‘guide’, you mean give you a map and point you in the right direction, then sure! But otherwise no, I don’t owe the society that much. It’s a dangerous path. Other than the weather hazards, there are beastmen that may take offense to your passage.”
"How many days does it take to get to the peak?”
He muses on the ‘time question’, ”Well that’s a tough call, really. The first half is easy, but the second part will slow you down. A good musher can make it up and back in one day. Depends on how well you can handle the dogs.”
Ezren feels their contact is earnest and honest.
Your contact looks longingly at the cabin then turns back to the group as they ask more questions out in the cold.
He lifts his hand and tilts it back and forth, "The dogs sorta handle things well? But they can't read a map or anything. They aren't that hard to control. Just need a steady hand and some confidence. If I can do it with minimal training, anyone can. I'll show you what you need to know. I don't know of anyone here who will guide you up, but you could ask I guess."
slides pages 3-4 for dog sledding rules
His eyes light up as he remembers something, "Oh ya, I gotta couple scrolls that could help with the dogs if you are really freaking out about driving a sled. I can sell em' at a pretty steep discount too, ain't many people up here needed em' so far."
Available to purchase are two scrolls of Calm Animal and four scrolls of Charm Animal. All are at Caster Level 5 and each scroll costs 20g. Obviously none of these are on your current spell lists, but maybe some of you have UMD or plans for a dip into druid.
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"That seems reasonable. I am not familiar with the expression 'musher' but with the knowledge... Wait it's dog sledding? We are going to on a trip with the dogs!" Miriel tries to hold herself serious but she is clearly too excited about the ride.
She goes to get familiar with the dogs. "Hello pretties, are you taking auntie Miriel to the mountain? We will have a nice trip, with such good dogs as you!" she chatters to the dogs as she scratches them.
The dogs happily accept the rubs and scratches, then begin a nice cacaphony of song.
Rysam looks very oddly at the Red Reverend's comment about dead dogs and then turns towards the oldest human, "Ah yeah, let's step inside and warm up. Good suggestion."
Heading into the cabin (whoever goes) you see it is a pretty small affair. Two side rooms have eight bunks each and there is one common area for cooking, eating, sitting, etc...
Three gnarled looking men are sitting at a flat dinner table. One wears a cooking apron and the other two simply have on warm looking inside clothes. They all look you over and then return to a card game.
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"I can't tell I've ever had the pleasure of driving a sled, or handling dogs," Ezren's tone make it obvious that he rather wishes things had remained that way. "Still, any skill can be learned, even quite late in life..."
He scratches one of the dogs affectionately between the ears. For a second, Ezren is reminded of all the guard dogs that his father kept as pets. He used to play with them all the time as a child - somewhat distracting them from their initial function, he's sure. It has been a long time since he stroked one.
He addresses a courteous nod to the men already inside. "Gentlemen."
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An adrimable attitude Mr Ezren." agrees Khellek, who enjoys the relative comfort of the cabin.
"Although I think I'd prefer my time spent reading up about the second Andorian rebellion. There are a few interesting side notes that the more common." and the emphasis he puts on 'common' makes it clear what he thinks of them "accounts of the time gloss over."
Noticing Ezren notice the other men in the room he turns his weak eyes on them. "Excuse me sirs, but are any of you skilled umm, 'mushers' who are looking for a day or twos gainful employment?"
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Miriel notices the others heading inside. "Oh, I should go too. Bye, we'll see soon again!" she says to the dogs, then heads inside.
She cleans her dress of some dog hairs, then joins the conversation. "My education at the temple of the Eternal Rose included studies of the different species in nature. Unfortunately, it consisted extensively of theoretical knowledge, practical applications including directing dog sleds were excluded from the curriculum."
The cook eyes the group, furtively glancing at each person who comes in, ”Yeah no, I ain’t going out there.”
The other two shrug, ”No thanks, ain’t our job.”
Rysum gives a tiny frown and then adds, ”See? No one really wants to go up the mountain. But if you do go, the dogs are the fastest and thus safest way to do it.”
Your contact waves you to go ahead with the tea, ”Well, as I mentioned before, you may run across beast men. They’ll try to kill you. Other than that, you already mentioned most of the risks. So will you be leaving at daybreak?”
”They use weapons so I’d guess are more man than beast, but I know nothing more of their culture or tactics.”
He turns to Belladonna, ”Sure, go ahead and take some firewood. It’s wise to be prepared. As for stopping points, you will just have to make good choices with your own senses of survival. I assume as seasoned pathfinders you should have at least some of those skills by this point.”
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"Mushing.." says the scholar, putting a certain emphasis on the word as if he was trying it out for the first time. "By night ..[/]b" he pants. "[b]sounds dangerous. I think resting " <pants> "out of the wind and starting at daybreak.." <pant> "is a fine idea. I may have " <cough> "gotten used to the air by then."
He wheezes for a moment before adding dryly "And my air, I mean the " <pant> "lack of it."
"Water and tea please. I think I am getting a headache."
His flow of words is interrupted as he massages his temples "And dehydration at altitude is a risk we all face."