At the docks of the bustling port of Quantium, semi-retired Pathfinder Khoumrock Blackthane drinks his mug of dark stout.
The dwarf mariner speaks in a booming voice, “As ye lot might’ve heard, we’re currently lookin’ into the trail o’ the ole foundin’ members o’ the Pathfinder Society, Selmius Foster. He made loads o’ discoveries before he vanished on an island in the Obari Ocean. We’re pretty sure he died there, but we don’t know the details. Other than some mention of him being killed by some ‘dog-faced people,’ whatever that means. Ambrus Valsin wants ye lot to travel to the jungle isle o’ Bhopan and find out what ye’ can about ole Selmius. There’s supposed to be a city there, but weather’s rough that time of the year, so there’s a decent chance we’ll have to drop ye lot off on the other side o’ the isle. Ye all should prepare for a trek through the jungle. Anyways, yerr smart ones, so if ye can, try to not make a fuss with the locals while there, got me? There’s a good chance Selmius didn’t leave us with the best reputation there, so try to be discreet and tactful.”
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Carrying an acorn across the yard with both hands, discreet and tactful, an unrobed male body in miniature, perhaps a foot tall, horned and with ashen wings, leaving behind him a zigzag of soot, for it turns out, that not one, nor two, nor three, but several acorns (of different shapes) are to be carted across, before being tossed carelessly into a pile.
It is unclear if he is listening to the briefing...
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Cirri, meanwhile, is nodding, jotting down a note, looking up, nodding again, and writing more notes. "Um, when you say the dog-faced people, do you have any more specifics on that? And is it rainy season in the jungle? My home is more tropical, much more ocean than plants."
Cirri stretches her gray wings and taps a talon in a quick rhythm. "Oh sorry! Not sure if we met or not. I'm Cirri Merryweather. Pleased to meet you!" She offers her hand to shake.
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A tiny, radiant figure hops forward, glow casting gentle warmth across those before her. She lifts her chin, the golden crown catching her own light, while shaking the strix's hand in return.
“I am Selena Albina, torchborn and moon-marked.” she says softly with grace.
She then turns to the dwarf mariner. "It is an honor to be in this mission. Tell us about Selmius Foster, and why you say that he didn't leave us the best reputation there?"
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Three.
Maruta points a single, long finger, first at the strix, then at the luminous sprite, then at the human. Marking each one that is here, he selects Cirri.
Fluttering over to her, leaving a trail of ashes, and produces for her (into her outstretched hand, perhaps) a prize: a perfect acorn!
Curious, he stays to see where upon herself she will place it...
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A dwarf that appears to be made of stone nods. "Greetings. Ghardak. We have been summoned? Used to be a miner, got caught in a tunnel collapse. When I came to found out I had been turned to rock. They told me I have a higher purpose though some days I think carving metal from rock is more my thing. Nevertheless, I protect and heal and sometimes bash things hard." Ghardak says.
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"Oh, hello! I'm Cirri Merryweather." Cirri crouches low and raises her heels to maintain eye contact with Maruta so he doesn't have to look up too high.
"An acorn, for me?" She gently takes it. "Well, the shell's a bit too hard for me to bite through. I bet if my incisors were stronger I could nibble on it. I could also make a hammer and crack it open, but I'd have to be careful not to shatter it and- wait! It's a gift, I'm not going to ruin it. Thank you!" She grabs a thin metal wire and loops it through her blue tunic. Then she wraps the wire around the acorn so it stays pinned.
"It's a nice accent color, honestly..." Cirri looks for a bowl of water and stills it so she can look at her reflection.
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Blackthane nods to his fellow dwarf and watches the two sprites. "Seems the right people have been selected for this job," he mutters to himself.
He lets them make their introductions before answering the questions that have been raised.
"Honestly, I think the 'dog faced' people are made up, or some misrepresentation of something we know like kholos or werewolves," he answers Cirri. "It's often stormy around the island and I expect it to be the same for this trip but no one really knows what the weather on the island is like. I've been to enough magical places to know that weather can change from the water to the beach.
"I don't know much more about Selmius than most folks who know anything about the Society's founders," Kharoum replies to Selena. "Selmius is most famous for explorations in Vudra, which ultimately led to Vudra opening up its lucrative spice trade to merchants from Absalom. To reward the Pathfinder Society for Selmius’s efforts, the city of Absalom donated an old manor to the Pathfinder Society, where the Society founded the Grand Lodge. The manor, now called the Water Palace, remains on the grounds of the Grand Lodge to this day. The last Pathfinder Chronicle to mention Selmius was written by his assistant, Adolphus, who said that he was killed by 'dog-faced people' on Bhopan but didn’t elaborate. After Selmius’s death, Adolphus and his wife, Ganjay, founded a Pathfinder lodge in Quantium."
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Selena flutters closer to where the other sprite greets Cirri. She dips into a graceful bow toward another sprite.
"A fellow sprite! What an honor to stand beside you in this mission. Selena Albina, at your service." she declares with a courteous flourish.
Turning to the miner, her glow softens. "It is unfortunate to hear what befell him," she replies with quiet sympathy. "Still, we shall do our utmost to bring Selmius’ work to fulfillment."
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A half-orc jogs up to the group. Without weapons or armor, at first you think he's just one of the dockworkers. Then you see his pack filled with medical supplies and a bright blue emblem identifying him as a medic. "Hey, I think you're the right crew." He nods at Blackthane. "Name's Desmond. I've been asked to tag along and keep you all alive. Probably on account of the last guy getting himself killed. I go where you go and make sure you live to tell about it."
He looks around and sees both tiny sprites. "Hmm, I might need to cut down some more bandages."
You have about half a day to prepare before boarding the ship.
Unfortunately, the voyage is as rough and stormy as Blackthane feared. You reach the island after several weeks of sailing over the Obari Ocean
on Blackthane’s ship, the Unsinkable. However, the turbulent seas prevent the ship from rounding the island to drop you at your intended landing point on the far side, so Blackthane leaves you on a beach to cross the island by land while he waits out the storm, explaining he’ll meet you on the far side once the weather clears.
The coast of Bhopan is straight and somber and faces a mistshrouded ocean. Reddish trails of earth are visible through the dark-green foliage of bushes and creepers that trail along the low cliffs. A chain of jutting, jagged rocks stands out from the waves like remnants of a wall breached by the sea, while inland, the vast, primeval jungles cast their shadows toward the eternally toiling waves.
The red clay earth of Bhopan houses plenty of shallow pools, many of which contain swarms of practically invisible, biting mites.
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Cirri enjoys the boat ride, trying to sing sea shanties and scrambling across the rigging so she can hop off the crow's nest and let her wings arrest her fall. Or maybe she goes for a swim when the ship stops for a few days. All the while she's cataloging every single fish or bird they see. She's almost disappointed when the crew spots land, but swims along with the team when they roar to shore aboard a dinghy.
"Wow..." Cirri begins scribbling some more. "Oh! Biting mites. Um... Well, you should avoid pools of water as insects are likely to accumulate there."
She feels her talons sink into something. "For example, this pool I just stepped into... wow that stings."
The group manages to put their heads together and create a balm that simultaneously repels the insects and sooth the stinging bites of the more pernicious specimens with Fran surprising everyone, including herself, by coming up with the last ingredient.
The Pathfinders come to an area with signs of ancient volcanic activity. Curious, but not threatening until they realize thousands of tiny shards of obsidian are lodged in the clay ground, covered by leaves and branches. The are big and sharp enough to puncture boots.
Working together, the group is able to bypass the field of glass without injuring themselves.
A patch of trees with multiple thorny protrusions in the bark holds fist-sized pumpkin-like fruit.
It is more from seeing the effects as one of the thorny gourds falls and explodes, sending vegetable shrapnel flying everywhere than a knowledge of what's coming that sends the Pathfinders scrambling and diving for cover as they avoid the trees.
As you are navigating the dangers of the Bhopanese jungle you find the bones of an unfortunate individual who was caught in a snare set by some of the jungle’s dangerous fey. Among the remains is an adventurer’s pack, six lesser antidotes, and 30gp, including one gp with the face of a man with long ears and a magnificent wig.
It feels like ages since the journey began through the oppressive heat and humidity of this place. Worse yet, for a while now, whispers have carried along the wind—the barely perceptible rustlings of leaves and creepers, too often sounding almost like “intruders” or “leave.” Growls in the distance, buzzing nearby, and the constantly darkening gloom of the dense canopy over the moist, red earth make this expedition seem more treacherous with every step. Suddenly, the noise stops and the jungle falls silent, save for the nearby babbling brook.
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"Hmm... anyone else hear that?" Cirri perks up. "My parent has better ears than I, but someone doesn't want us here."
Cirri calls out. "I'm sorry for being here but if you could help us, we just want to learn more about the people who live here."
The sudden silence assigns some concern. Cirri focuses on her kinetic gate as bubbles form around her, carried by an unseen wind.
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Selena quickly snatches one of the lesser antidotes and downs it in a single gulp.
“Better be safe than never,” she mutters, stepping away from the pile of loot. “And somebody should pick these up.” Her eyes flick to the backpack, antidotes, and coins, clearly hoping someone else, preferably someone not tiny, volunteers to carry them.
“Yes, I hear it too.” Selena nods at Cirri. “Just stay sharp. If they’re still around, they’ll show themselves soon enough.” The voices fade, leaving the area uncomfortably still. As a precaution, she exhales slowly; a soft golden mote slips from her breath, drifting before her like a tiny firefly like her. It glides toward her weapon sheath and sinks into it, causing a brief shimmer of light beneath her palm. A moment later, a perfect copy of her boomerang materializes in her hand.
“Now… what do we have here?” she murmurs as she studies the terrain ahead. A winding ravine cuts jaggedly across their path. “So we need to cross that.” She points at the serpentine drop, then gestures toward a fallen log bridging part of it. “We could head that way and cross using that log.”
“My flying’s too short to make it across that ravine. Or… I could fly up along that steep side and cross over to the edge there.”
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Maruta truds along, keeping underfoot of Desmond Vilks.
“intruders”
Believing the forest speaking to him to warn him of danger, he steadies his gaze against the canopy, looking for the intruder.
“leave.”
Grasping the nearest leaf, and lifting it, then the next and next, he continues his search for the intruder - they must be even smaller than him to be capable of such a hiding place. Not that Maruta is one to make a low assessment of might on so pedestrian a characteristic as size...
...as they approach the ravine, he vitalizes his wings with powerful primal magic...
◆◆) Fleet Step (to use with Evanescent Wings)
...which unfurl and unfold, stretching his body-height-and-a-half in either direction of span, oily and lit by orange flickers of flame, which deposit even more ash onto the ground around him!
As the Pathfinders work their way through the jungle and pause as it goes still, a woman made of living wood steps out of a tree.
"You are intruding upon sacred ground, for which the only fitting punishment is death," she declares and waves her hand. Scattered throughout the jungle, giant carnivorous plants begin to twitch and writhe before aiming their maw like appendages at you, snapping their thorns like teeth as they shamble in your direction.
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Cirri calls out to the woman. "We're just trying to help! Please don't make us destroy your defenders!" Cirri pouts when she realizes there's no time.
"Do people want to move or not? I can call upon the >Four Winds< to push people around."
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Tresspass or die?
Holding no disproportional reverence for creatures of the wood such as to instantly forgive sudden and unwarranted violence - for indeed, Maruta feels as though land itself cannot be claimed - he thereby doesn't hesitate to take the affront as a call to reciprocal action.
Energizing his ashen wings, he flutters gently across the ravine, channelling the lift generated by the motion into dangerous winds, directing it at the two closest interlopers. As they approach him, he bends their minds (if they have any) against their own locomotions, slowing their decent unto him with perilous fey magicks!
◆) Evanescent Wings w/ Fleet Step
◆◆) Slashing Gust
↺) Lose the Path
Desmond drops into savage canine stance then awaits clarification on the plan.
Cirri suggests a plan and waits for confirmation.
Maruta doesn't worry about a plan and acts.
His gusts of wind slice into the two closest carnivorous plants.
They don't seem to have enough sense to be affected by his mind altering spell, however.