The adventure begins in a meeting room in Katapesh, where you are briefed on your mission by Yigrig Moneymaker.
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Speckled fur of mottled grey on white, in steps a handsome kholo carrying a very large, nasty looking lash and a complement of full-figured throwing axes strapped to her belt. Her clothes plain, sufficient, and loose enough to allow the exchange of body heat in the arid climate, she walks with purpose into the meeting room, and looks Yigrig Moneymaker in the eye.
"Well then. I am summoned" she looks around the room, first to arrive, and then sits down cross-legged on the floor next to a chair, if there is one, and picks at the various necklaces strung around her head - bejeweled of mostly teeth, claws, and small bones - straightening them, and pausing on each trinket to give a moment of consideration.
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A Huge Man stalks into the meeting room in Katapesh. His brow is covered in sweat, and it is obvious he is not really used to the heat of the place.
"I am Ulvard!" he exclaims before sitting on a poor defenseless chair, which groans in protest.
He carries a huge sword, and is obviously some type of northerner.
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A Taldan man shuffles into the room and slumps into a chair in the corner before letting out a tremendous yawn, then waving his silent apologies to the room.
Seeing a familiar face in Bork, he leans over and whispers something cheeky.
Yigrig Moneymaker, the powerful goblin merchant, slumps in a large chair. His face, normally so proud and assured, looks troubled. “It’s good to see you, Pathfinders! I have a lot of respect for the Society. You’ve been good to me in the past, and my family has aided you in return. But today I come before you, my hat in my hands, in need of help.
“My family and I have almost brokered a trade agreement between the cities of Solku and Oenopion. It’s a beneficial deal, one where Solku gains the materials it needs to defend itself, Oenopion gains a new trading partner, and everyone stands to make a heap of coin. There’s only one issue standing in the way of the negotiation being finalized: a bridge must be constructed over the Elemion River to facilitate safe travel between the two cities. My family is responsible for building and maintaining this bridge. It should have been a simple job… easy to pull off.
“It has been anything but easy.”
The old goblin leans forward. “Every morning at the work camp, it is discovered that more of my children have been pulled from their beds in the night, presumed dead. Every shipment of aid I send gets attacked. The last one I sent did not even arrive.
“There is a lot of money riding on this deal, but I admit this isn’t about money anymore. This is personal. Someone is harming my family and I can’t sit by and let that happen.
“I have contracted the Pathfinder Society to protect the bridge and surrounding work camp while construction is completed. I have a caravan ready to leave, filled with new workers and supplies for the bridge site. I want you on it. When you see it safely to the bridge site, I need you to stop the attacks on the camp by any means necessary until the job is complete. When you get to the work camp, you will meet my son Zig, the overseer of the project. Sweet kid… takes after his old man. He’ll be your liaison with the workers and see to your needs.
“Nothing is more important than family. Nothing. And so, I’m asking you to take care of mine. Our future is in your hands.”
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"Attacking shipments and targeting your family-- sounds like classic gangster tactics. Especially since there's a lot of money in play. I'm guessing there must be some other powerful family in Solku or Oenopion that resents your deal, and likes things the way they are?"
"Or maybe whoever is attacking Solku is employing someone to sabotage things. Sorry, I don't know much about the local politics--who's attacking Solku?"
Maxis rubs his head roughly and blinks. "Which city is this again? I got in pretty late last night."
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"If the money is good, we can forage for ourselves" the kholo replies to Ulvard's comment.
When she hears Maxis speak, she likens his ideas to that of wild animals "Perhaps you have treaded on something's turf. If that is the case, one or the other must be forced to move along"
Surveying the rest of the group "We'll do our best to ensure that that isn't your family"
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“Shake the Moneymaker?” Bork whispers back, brow furrowed. “Sir GoodShanks is a knight of duty and position. The moneymaker stays unshaken..." with a long pause. "Unless absolutely mission-critical.”
He clears his throat and steps forward with a visible reverence.
“Master Yigrig, your family has the full weight of my spanner and my conscience.” He ceremonially places a hand on his chest. “Protecting goblins, repairing infrastructure, and solving nighttime disappearances all fall squarely within my operational expertise. Also I recently improved Sir GoodShanks’ moisture tolerance. Which may be relevant. Rivers can be very moist.”
He turns to the others. “I will go. For family! And for bridges.”
The construct turns toward Yigrig, his voice whirring softly to life.
“Orders acknowledged. Bridge stability and goblin safety will be maintained.” He pauses, optics narrowing slightly. “I am not optimized for investigation. But I am optimized for punching threats until they explain themselves.”
He glances at Maxis. “Moneymaker shaking remains outside current mission parameters.”
He then folds his arms with a creak of metal. “I am ready.”
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"Yes, of course. I cannot expect guards to properly guard on empty stomachs," Yigrig replies to Ulvard. "Assuming you don't let the food get stolen in a raid, you'll have all you need."
Yigrig's eyes skate from Maxis to Beezhul and back a few times as though he is mentally balancing the two of them. Finally, he quietly says "Kholos. Slaver kholos."
He gulps before replying to Beezhul. "Well, I do hope that you'll make sure that it is the other thing that has to move along."
"I trust the Pathfinders, though I hope your friend is also sealed against dryness, since you'll be travelling across a desert before arriving at the river."
After you finish talking to Yigrig, he leads them to a goblin caravan. The goblin caravan consists of 4 Huge wagons and 20 nervous goblin workers. It also contains a trove of supplies including wooden beams and food. The leader of the caravan is a goblin named Muckmuck, who remains terrified of his responsibilities and fearful of what could happen on the ensuing journey. He has little to say to you and doesn’t contribute much beyond driving the caravan. Because many goblins loathe horses, the caravan’s wagons are pulled by camels.
Before you set out, Muckmuck laughs to himself.
“You longshanks think you can protect us? You can’t save Muckmuck. You’re weak. Face facts. We’re all going to die.
“You sit there in the back and talk to the workers. We’re all scared. Doesn’t matter what we do. We’re all going to die.
“Tell you truth, I don’t want to go. Yigrig reads too many books. He’s lost his mind. We all think about leaving before he gets us killed. Not help that the minstrel lost hand in teethbrushing accident. Much blood. Can’t play lute anymore.
“Tell you what. You want to help? You be the minstrel. Make fancy music. Make goblins feel less likely to run away. Convince them we’re not all going to die.”
The caravan takes two days to reach the camp with one overnight stay on the side of the path. You have the chance to speak with the goblin workers. Just as Muckmuck says, they are terrified to travel to the camp.
However, the caravan is filled with goblins, and despite their fear, their wandering attention span quickly turns to revelry in its many forms. The night is filled with fights and cackling laughter as the goblins try to impress you and each other with feats of physical prowess. If you so choose, you can partake in this revelry, lifting the
spirits of the goblins and gaining their trust through your impressive displays.
Here are a few options. Each person can attempt two of the checks but each check can only be tried a total of three times:
Goblins attempt to impress each other with feats of acrobatics. You can attempt a DC 15 Acrobatics check to Tumble Through the crowd while trying to display agility and grace.
The goblins show off their bravery by climbing tents, cliffs, trees or anything so high that falling from it results in a nasty impact. You can attempt a DC 15 Athletics check to Climb so well you impress the goblins with your physical prowess.
The goblins love impressions, and if you can Impersonate Muckmuck or otherwise impress them with this skill, they fall over with laughter. You can attempt a DC 15 Deception check to Impersonate Muckmuck or another goblin in the caravan.
You can attempt a DC 15 Performance check to Perform for the goblins.
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Stopping herself from going "not all of us..." Beezhul instead leans into the fear "You see. Maybe the problem you have on hand involves both" she grins her teeth "Only a fool or a god or a seer can promise an outcome - I can promise that I will do my best to protect your family. And worry not: If kholos are between me and the safety of your family, I will take them down" hoping to silence the "but would you defend your own" doubt before it even gets asked.
"Despair not, lest you lose your soul to fear and pain, rather than embrace and endure and transform from it" she proselyzes, then shames "I wonder who put you in charge here. Tell you what. I challenge you to a wrestling match. If I win, I lead. If I lose, you lead. What do you say?"
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Goldbloom tries to understand what creatures are out there.
At the goblin camp, he uses Consult the Stars to be trained in Performance.
He performs a lizardfolk dance for the gobs.
"Now let me tell you about the legends of the great crocodile.."
"And the wily lizardfolk and how he sat on the back of a great bat to reach the stars..."
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Ulvard knows very little about the south but when it comes to hijinks... well, young Ulfen warriors and Goblins have a bit in common. Not that anyone sane would say so to either of the groups.
Ulvard watches the goblins having fun and games, and then tries to demonstrate his own love of fire, together with his own long legs and atheletic prowess by jumping over the fire pit one evening.
To the cheers around him, he then tries to top the performance with a cartwheel. Now, while Ulfren are renown for their strength and might, what is less well known is their agility and tumbling skills...
Something that Ulvard is single handily trying to change. He cartwheels into a hand-stand and then walks around the camp for a couple of minutes on his hands, ending up near the food tent. He caps off the evening with a demonstration of how much of a single sheep one Ulvard can eat - while standing on a single hand.
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Bork snorts at Muckmuck’s muttering, already halfway up the side of a wagon adjusting a loose tarp strap. “Can’t save Muckmuck,” he echoes mockingly. “You ever think maybe Muckmuck just needs saving from Muckmuck?”. The goblin bursts out laughing at his own jokes and takes a few moments to recover.
When he does, he waves toward Sir Good-Longshanks Armor Pants, calling him over to the goblin quatermaster. “Anyway, my longshanks IS a good longshanks. Best one. Strong limbs, calibrated joints, armored pants, and doesn’t whine like some people I could name.”
Then, he slaps a latch open on the construct’s shoulder. “Alright, Sir GoodShanks, up you go! Find something high and impressive to climb, just don’t step on any camels.”
He turns back toward the goblins below, hands on hips. “Let’s get one thing straight—nobody dies ‘til I say so.”
Sir GoodShanks gives a slow, deliberate nod.
“Understood: Climb. Impress. Avoid camels.”
With mechanical precision, he scans the wagons, selects the tallest with the fewest loose ropes, and begins his ascent—each clunking step measured and unnecessarily dramatic. Near the top, he pauses and raises one arm high.
“I have achieved elevation. Morale should now improve!”
His head turns slightly toward Muckmuck.
“You may continue not dying.”
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The rough-looking half-orc wears scale mail, and has a sword at his left hip. A crossbow is slung over his back. He carries himself like a soldier, eyes alert for potential danger.
”Kosh Bracken”, he says, by way of introduction. ” ‘Fore I joined the ‘Ciety, I was a mercen’ry, scout, patched up fellas like you lot. Now I just get paid betta!”
”Roight, you lot! Repeat after me!”
He starts a raunchy call-and-response with the gathered goblins (and anyone else who wants to join in).
”I don’t know, but I been told…”
Muckmuck just scowls, but when he isn't given much choice in the matter, he fights back against Beezhul with a vengeance. It even seems like he's going to get the better of her for a moment before she heroically pins him.
Goldbloom tells a tale of a crocodile that leaves the goblins oohing and aahing and squealing in delighted terror. At least those that pause long enough to listen to him.
They are less interested as he tells a story about a two legged scaly.
Ulvard vaults a fire pit which impresses the goblins and causes not a few injuries as he inspires a number of copycats. Given their smaller size and scrawnier limbs, they are generally not as successful. But, being goblins, there's a fair chance that they were going to burn themselves, anyway.
The casualties are reduced by his amazing acrobatic performance, however and, soon, it seems almost as many goblins are walking around camp on their hands as their feet.
Sir Good-Longshanks Armor Pants makes a small miscalculation in choosing his wagon and his weight at such a height begins to tip it over (leverage and all,) but he heroically manages to stabilize it before causing it to crash down.
Maxis gets tripped up and almost falls while climbing but his impressions are spot on.
"...that I like the taste of mold!" The responses to Kosh's calls often make sense only to goblins.
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Bork squints out across the dunes, arms folded and deep in thought. After a long pause, he gives a firm nod.
“Ah yes. The desert. Known for… sand. And rocks. And, uh, heat-based surprises.”
He gestures vaguely at the horizon like he’s identifying some grand natural phenomenon. “Camels roam freely here, nesting in cactuses. That’s why they’re so lumpy.”
Sir GoodShanks remains perched on his wagon perch for a moment longer. “INITIATING AGILITY PROTOCOL. OBSERVE: GRACEFULNESS.”
He hops down with an exaggerated, clanking flair and charges straight into the rowdy crowd of goblins. With surprising coordination for someone made of brass, he ducks beneath a thrown mug, spins between two cackling dancers, and in the middle of a vault over a cowering cook slams headlong into the fire.
At the end of the maneuver, he stands- still in the middle of the fire, and gives a dramatic flair of his arms and awaits for applause that is not coming. At last he brushes off the soot and embers before standing straight and walking directly back to Bork
My gyroscope malfunctioned. Again.
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Having bested Muckmuck, Beezhul seizes his mantle of leadership.
Tapping into her ancestral penchant for mischief and mockery, she adopts his mannerisms, but inverts his words "You skinnyweasels think you can protect us? You can save Beezhul. You’re strong. Face facts. We’re all going to live!"
She stands in the center of the wrestling rink, allowing any goblin to step forward and challenge her "Who wants it?"
"Who's that supposed to be?"
"I dunno, maybe that guy?" the goblins are more confused by Kosh's impression than impressed.
Sir Goodshanks' acrobatic shenanigans continue and are acceptable but not as impressive as his original moves.
They are quite fond of Beezhul's impression. "It's just like him!"
"But totally different!"
One of the goblins turns at Goldbloom's prank but that just gets him taunted and punched by the others.
Still, morale is high among the goblins and they seem fairly confident in your ability to save them from dying.
The first test as to the truth of that fact comes as you approach the bridge site and a clutch of kobolds come piling out from their hiding places behind an ancient statue.
As soon as they see the kobolds, the goblins take a cue from their ancient hero Geetee Effo and scatter, leaving you to deal with the threat.
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Bork whirls a crank on Sir Goodshanks back, then slams the panel shut. The construct's gauntlet lets out a satisfying WHIRR as sparks crackle along his arm. “Overdrive engaged!” he cackles. “Ohhh yes, it’s kobold punching time now!”
“Advance, Sir Longshanks! Show these tunnel gremlins the virtues of upper body discipline!”
Then, Bork lifts his bow, squinting with one eye and letting an arrow fly toward the nearest scaly target. “All kobolds welcome! First one gets a complimentary pointy thing!”
◆ Enter Overdrive (1 min)
◆ Command: Goodshanks
◆ Strike
The construct’s head swivels once with a quiet hiss of hydraulics. “Acknowledged. Target acquired.”
Sir GoodShanks lumbers forward with purpose, moving all the way up to the kobolds in a threatening way.
◆ Stride
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Since taking over lead from Muckmuck, Beezhul kept watch upon the front wagon, and seeing everyone race forward - foolishly, perhaps - she crosses half the distance into a nearby bush, and prepares to huck one of her nasty looking axes at the first creature to come within range!
◆) Stride
◆◆) Ready to Strike
Kosh sings an invigorating battle song.
Bork empowers GoodShanks and himself then sends a well-aimed arrow at Gold Leader. It catches the unsuspecting kobold right in the eye, sending him collapsing to the ground.
Sir GoodShanks steams toward trouble with Maxis nearby.
Beezhul sets up a nasty surprise for the kobolds.
Two of the braver kobolds approach GoodShanks and Maxis and stab at them with their spears.
One misses and one knocks out a tooth of the kobold who tried to launch it.
They both miss twice.
Two more approach and prepare to toss alchemist's fire and Beezhul's membele goes whizzing just past one's head. It glares at her but both it and the other one hurl their vials at the nearest wagon.
fire plus 1 persistent fire damage and 1
fire splash damage
fire plus 1 persistent fire damage and 1
fire splash damage
One hits, causing some damage to the wagon and to Bork. Worse, the wagon catches on fire.
And the last two come close enough to sling bullets at Bork and Kosh.
bludgeoning
bludgeoning
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Realising that someone has started a fight without inviting him, Ulvard roars his disapproval. Then with a second roar, just incase anyone missed the first, he charges into the closest kobold, swinging his sword wildly.
Which looks impressive, but perhaps would have been even more so if he had removed the kobolds head rather than narrowly missing one of the goblins.
* rage
** sudden charge
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The fire splashes up Bork’s sleeves as the wagons ignite, but he just scowls and brushes a smoldering ember off his shoulder.
“Fire? Fire’s for amateurs!” he laughs, already notching another arrow. “Real professionals use semi-autonomous constructs!”
He draws, aims, fires and then starts to try and find a way to put out the fire.
While rummaging, he snaps his fingers toward Sir GoodShanks. “Sir! That one! Punch with purpose, and kindly defend my personal and professional honor.”
◆ Command: Goodshanks
◆ Strike
◆ Put out fire?!
The blade scrapes against his chassis, leaving only a faint mark. Sir GoodShanks turns slowly, pivoting at the waist to regard the offending kobold with steady, impassive focus.
“Acknowledged. You have made a tactical error.”
He raises a metal fist, already humming with kinetic energy, and brings it down in a clean arc aimed for the kobold’s center mass.
“Retaliation executed.”
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As the kobold with the blue scarf comes running up to him, gibbering and poking his little spear at him, Maxis can't help but chortle out loud.
"Oh my gosh, that's adorable. You're a plucky little bastard."
He gives a resigned sigh, raises his shield and hacks down overhand at the kobold with his longsword.
"Nothing personal, little dude." he says apologetically. But he doesn't let up on his swings.
Things look grim for the Pathfinders at first as two of the first two of their members to retaliate both find it hard to hit their targets.
Their companions more than make up for it, however.
Kosh's sling bullet is exceedingly well aimed, though not quite enough to bring his opponent down.
Bork's attack is not quite as well placed but more damaging, taking his target out of the fight.
He also puts out the fire.
Meanwhile, GoodShanks proves that his opponent HAS made a tactical error by punching him down.
Simultaneously, Maxis slices his opponent, leaving him on the ground, as well, leaving only half the kobolds still on the field as threats.
With a whirl of gears, Sir Good Shanks head turns- optical enhancements searching for the next target. Stepping over the fallen Kobold, he stomps through the desert toward two of the remaining combatants
Goldbloom finishes the work that Kosh began and the orange kobold is going to feel the silence of the void indefinitely.
Red breaks away from the mass melee and lobs another alchemist's fire at the wagon, intent upon setting it on fire and keeping it on fire.
fire plus 1 persistent fire damage and 1 fire splash damage
Green pulls out a spear and stabs at the first one of the pathfinders who swung at him then proves he is also an admirer of Geetee Effo.
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Bork skids to a halt near the chaos, blinking through the smoke and sparks. “Okay—okay—okay! That’s enough alchemist nonsense!” he wheezes. Turning his head toward Sir GoodShanks he points his finger menacingly. “Sir! Grab the red one! Preferably with force!”
Then the goblin darts toward the flaming cart, muttering, “Stupid wagons, stupid fire, stupid kobolds…” as he scrambles up the side to try and smother the flames with a tarp or sack—anything not currently ablaze.
◆ Command
◆ Stride
◆ De-fire
The command received, Sir GoodShanks rotates toward the red-scaled kobold with precision.
“You have been selected for detainment. Please remain still.”
His heavy footsteps crunch across the dirt as he barrels forward. At the last moment, he lunges, arms sweeping wide to seize the kobold in a crushing grip.
“Compliance encouraged. Struggling will result in stern language. Or broken ribs.”
◆ Stride (40 ft)
◆ Grapple