The spark of battle lights! With Cheliax sending the Hellknight Order of the Rack into Breachill and publicly executing several innocent citizens, the Steel Falcons of Andoran—an elite faction of the Eagle Knights—have decided to take a public stand and liberate the town. In preparation for this attack, Andira Marusek reached out to her contact in the Pathfinder Society, Venture-Captain Brackett for some on the ground assistance, particularly in getting the civilians to safety.
But before we get to all of that, why don't you introduce yourselves?
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A impeccably dressed gentleman joins the briefing. And by gentleman, I mean a Gentleman's gentleman. A human of middling age he is not of distinguished feature, although his carriage is erect and extremely proper. Dressed in full formal servants attire he carries a small silver drinks tray.
"Jeeves, reporting for duty, sir" he says with a short bow.
He wears no armor, nor does he carry a weapon.
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Another gentleman.
Contrastly, striking eyebrows and a resting scowl shape the contours of this one's face, his hair, long, thin, black with a streak white, tamed over a mildly risen widow's peak. His frame that particular constitution of nobility, meek yet mannered, projected as with infinite confidence into the room itself, erudite, educated, elite.
Remaining quiet, his eyes observe the surroundings, maintaining a composure of genuine unapproachability.
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"Tea? Certainly madam. But not iced I am afraid." says Jeeves. The mostly prepared butler produces a china-tea cup and saucer, and, pouring from an elegant pot, delivers a lovely scented cup of hot tea - with just a hint of peach to it.
He directs his gaze toward Veracruz. "Sir? A Coffee? Or perhaps a short brandy?"
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But perhaps, warmer than appearances?
"Qué amable y considerado. Sería un descuido de mi parte negarme" is our occult hero's sudden affirmative, leaving the two offered choices of beverage to be decided by the gentleman making the offer.
"How kind and considerate. It would be careless of me to refuse."
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Glinda takes a sip. That is excellent. Thank you Jeeves. I have to admit, this is the first mission I have had that came with a butler. Incidentally, have you already been briefed?
She then glances over to Veracruz and frowns. Glinda knows a few languages, but that didn't sound like anything from the northern regions or even Queen Anastasia's native language. Nor any of the fey or elemental languages.
Как грубо
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A lean gray-brown wolf trots into the chaotic square, weaving calmly through fleeing townsfolk before stopping beside the gathered Pathfinders. Green light swirls around it, leaves lifting in a brief gust as the wolf’s form stretches and rises into Melenia, an elf druid with chestnut hair braided with feathers and leaves. She steadies herself with her wooden staff, eyes wary of the city around her as her fingers briefly scratch at her hair—a nervous habit she tries to hide.
“I am Melenia Nightbreeze of the Wild Order,” she says softly but firmly. “I’ve come to help guide the innocent to safety. Tell me where I’m needed.”
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A snotty witch, a feral barbarian, a talking ferret, and a wild-smelling elf: Veracruz, for his better, sticks nearby Percival Jeeves, the only 'civilized' pathfinder in the room.
He switches to proper Taldan "One would imagine that, in order to succeed, we might have to proceed beneath the current laws of the land" he turns to Melenia Nightbreeze, appreciative of her direct approach (despite his other reservations) "Or even within jurisdiction exterior to the buroughs themselves"
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Glinda turns to Raijyu. Welcome Reijyu. I am Glinda. I have nothing against toads although I was told it is not a good idea to lick one.
She then turns to Wizel. Sometimes one just has to accept the name one was given. Wear it with pride Sir Dwarf.
As Melenia appears she claps in appreciation. Unfortunately we haven't been told what our mission is yet but I suspect it has something to do with the Andoran Cheliax war. She makes a face at the word 'war'.
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Jeeves reaches into a pouch, withdraws a small hip flask and pours the contents into a small glass which he offers to Wizel. It certainly smells stronger than tea.
"Whiskey, sir?" he asks.
A perplexed expression crosses his feet for a moment at the ferret, instead he advances on Melenia. "Refreshments, Miss Nightbreeze? I do have plain water also available."
Then returning his gaze to the ferret he asks "Mr? Raijyu. What would you like to partake of while we wait?"
The marble-paved circle at Breachill’s center has become an armed encampment. The tall bronze statue of the city’s founder impassively watches shouting officers of the Steel Falcon readying their formations for battle. Engineers carefully stack ammunition alongside enormous bombards. Nearby, Pathfinder agents hurry to and from Venture-Captain Brackett, preparing for the upcoming struggle. The venture-captain wipes his brow and drinks from a canteen. “Good morning, Pathfinders! I hope you’re rested. It’s going to be a long day. You might be a bit nervous seeing all the preparations, and I don’t blame you. We’re here to challenge Cheliax and the Hellknights for the town. But you’re still fresh from your confirmations, so I don’t expect you to join directly in the battle.” Brackett produces a hand-drawn map of Breachill with several locations marked across the Breach Creek to the north. “We’re working with Andoran’s Steel Falcons on this mission. They’ve secured the town south of the creek that divides it. Most Hellknights have retreated to Citadel Altaerein northeast of town, but a few holdouts, fiends, and mercenaries remain in the north half of Breachill. I spoke to Greta Gardania from the town council. They’ve had a tough time under the Hellknight’s occupation, and many townspeople are trapped, short on supplies, or too afraid to get to safety. That’s where you come in. I want you to cross the creek and check three of the locations I’ve marked on the map. I’ll send others to check the ones you don’t. Help the townspeople and convince them to come with you back here. Prioritize their safety.”
He pauses, looking over the gathered army-the Eagle Knights sharp in their blue uniforms, banners waving and bright, steel gleaming in the sunlight of the cloudless day. “Marvelous, isn’t it? It reminds me of tapestries I’ve seen of the Shining Crusade, brave knights in all their splendor.” He turns away from the scene. “The machinations of fiends brought us here, but mortals will do the fighting, and on a scale beyond what most of us can imagine. Be careful, Pathfinders. Just get yourself and the civilians back here alive.”
In addition to the party's Pathfinder Provisions, the Venture-Captain provides them with two minor healing potions and a map of Breachill.
"Any questions?"
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The servant discretely coughs, reminding the party of some information that they may have overlooked.
"We are to find citizens and escort them safely to, ahh safety? And we are likely to face roaming fiends?" he asks, clarifying the mission details.
The perceptive among the group may notice that his hip flask seems a little lower on quantity than could be accounted for by the amount he his dispensed into Pathfinder glasses.
Regarding Breachill, Veracruz and Glinda believe that it is a small town in the northeast of Isger. It’s a prosperous community with an elected council and a monthly tradition of hiring adventurers to manage any unusual problems the town is facing.
Jeeves however believes that Breachill has long ties with the Hellknights. Many living there have welcomed the recent takeover and have been attacking the Pathfinders and Steel Falcons.
Regarding Cheliax, Veracruz, Glinda, and Raijyu all agree that Cheliax is an absolute monarchy located on the southwestern coast of Avistan, ruled by Queen Abrogail II. The national religion is diabolism, and the country models its government on the bureaucracy of Hell.
Jeeves however believes that Chelaxians worship demons and are equally chaotic and unpredictable, often disguising as civilians to attack unwary foes.
Regarding devils, Wizel and Veracruz agree that devils are masters of corruption and architects of conquest. At their apex is Asmodeus, and Hell creates a rigid hierarchy beneath him of fiends scheming for advancement, often through tempting mortals into infernal contracts. The wicked hope for power and wealth through diabolic pacts.
Regarding Hellknights, Glinda believes The Hellknights are made up of mercenary companies that model themselves on the order and discipline of Hell. While not exclusively tied to Cheliax, they have a strong connection with the nation.
“There are going to be armies and fiends in this battle that would give Master Farabellus pause," Brackett answers, "We aren't assigning your team to be involved in combat, though of course be prepared to defend yourselves. Rescuing any trapped civilians is heroism enough.
"Of course if you come across any other civilians in danger you should help them, but don't feel like you need to do a full sweep of the town. I'm assigning multiple squads to this task, so you can stick to your three assigned locations unless something comes up.”
Before the Pathfinders can leave, a studious, impeccably dressed goblin carrying several scrolls and wearing silver jewelry hurries toward the venture-captain.
“The Pathfinder Society and Venture-Captain Brackett, yes?" she says, "Jorsk Hinterclaw said to speak with you. My name is Warbal, ambassador for the Bumblebrashers of Citadel Altaerein to Breachill. Most Bumblebrashers fled when the Hellknights came, but Chief Helba and a few others remained behind. With the battle about to start, is there anything you can do to help them?”
The venture-captain grimaces at the complication. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll ensure my agents know to watch for your people once we’re past the walls.” He turns to the departing team. “While you’re out there, keep your ears open for anything that might help the Bumblebrashers.”
Warbal thanks the Pathfinders and tells them to say “Cousin Warbal” sent them if they meet Chief Helba or other Bumblebrashers, so they know the Pathfinders are friends.
"The Bumblebrasher goblins live in Citadel Altaerein," says Warbal, "which had long been abandoned before we moved in. Well, uh, most of them live there. I live in Breachill. I was never especially suited to that kind of rougher living." Warbal distractedly shifts the scrolls in her arms to make sure she doesn't drop them. "I'm the official liaison. I know a lot of goblin clans don't exactly get along with nearby settlements, and I acknowledge that's usually the goblins' fault, but Breachill and the Bumblebrashers are allies!"
"Unfortunately," says Brackett with a grimace, "the citadel is the location that's been captured. The Bumblebrasher surely know the place better than the attackers do and maybe able to hide, but..." he sighs. "Well, your team probably won't have to worry about it, since you'll be operating in town. But keep an eye out in case you do." He nods to Warbal. "I will make sure to get the word out about the situation to everyone."
Returning his attention to the Pathfinders, he says, "Any other questions?"
"I think I prefer the way frogs taste," says Warbal.
Brackett consults a list, then points out three of the locations marked on the Breachill map and adds a star next to each one. "These are the locations I'm assigning to your team: Cayden's Keg, the Great Dreamhouse, and the Reliant Book Company.
"If you don't have any other questions, you can head out."
Past the barricades and Eagle Knight patrols, the town is quieter, holding its breath. Signs of skirmishes litter the streets, a few broken pieces of armor here, discarded weapons there. Windows are shuttered, doors barricaded with only the occasional glimpse of people still inside. A few doors are broken open, other buildings gutted with fire. Notices posted by the Hellknights tell of the crimes of the former occupants. The empty gallows in the nearby square casts a long shadow.
Travel between locations takes about five minutes on average.
Cayden's Keg, the stout, well-kept tavern, is fortified and battle-scarred. Arrows are scattered around the street, and a battering ram lies discarded outside the door. The sounds of celebration and laughter mock the writ of closure hung there.
A shout from above precedes an arrow bouncing off the cobbles. “Brynne! The cowards have come back for more!” A woman’s head peeks out at the Pathfinders below, then briefly disappears back inside before a loud smack echoes from within.
“Roger Woodall! No Hellknight company has ever looked like that lot.” The woman’s head reappears, this time wearing a beaming smile. “Hello and welcome to the Keg! If you’re friends, come in for a drink, and if not, you’re welcome to a fight!”
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"Laugh as you please" Veracruz mocks "For what greater jailor of poor creatures than those of only slightly improved material circumstances" emboldened by the depth of his entourage - two warriors, two witches, and a weasel - he presses the advantage of implied muscle, not wanting to be mistaken for uncautiously friendly "We are here to escort those of free will out of jurisdiction of these Hell Knights - be that you and yours, or anyone within" he glances around, to see if anyone is being held captive, then flips the phrasing back against the orinigal speaker "If you’re friends, allow our offer of flight to be widely and fairly made, and if not, you’re welcome to a fight"
Placing one hand on his pistol, the other on his rapier, our enlightened hero awaits response.
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Jeeves steps forward. "What Mister Veracruz means to say is that Greta Gardania of the town council is concerned for your safety. And has asked that we look in on you and escort those who wish to retire to the safer southern districts to such a destination. While it looks like you have so far done well for yourselves, there is a concern that a greater force, perhaps augmented with fiends, may seek your bodies, souls and destruction of your pub. None of these things are quite so likely if you are on the south bank."
The drunken man stares at Veracruz blankly. Brynn seems more pleased with Jeeves's answer, though. "Ah, no need for that. As you say, we're doing just fine!" She beckons the Pathfinders in.
Cayden’s Keg is a favored spot for a meal and pint of ale in Breachill and doubles as a temple to Cayden Cailean. The priest and proprietor is Brynne Taithe . The townspeople inside drove back the Hellknights sent to arrest them and are rowdy and determined. They do not seem to realize the danger approaching, and are resistant to any suggestion otherwise; the drink isn't helping.
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"Perhaps your luck will hold out against the horde of Hellknights that will become soon incumbant upon your church" laying the map on the table, he outlines estimated numbers to illustrate the extent to which they are surrounded as a matter of time "Perhaps you consider throwing your lot in with the rest of the already-vacated town a matter of chance as well" and bends one well-manicured eyebrow left, then the other right, to signify a decision "Either way, your fate has odds"
He let's them infer which between the two are the better to take.
Jeeves and Wizel impress the crowd, giving Glinda and Veracruz more time to make their case.
Soon enough, the rowdy inebriated crowd are ready to follow the Pathfinders. This is a good thing, probably, given that it was the objective...
They do need some direction.