You have traveled to the town of Silverhall in Brevoy, the fortified capitol of the Lebeda family’s territory, on a diplomatic mission for Lady Gloriana Morilla. You and your fellow Pathfinders are now in the audience hall of Silverhall, awaiting the arrival of your hostess. A fire burns merrily in the large hearth of the audience chamber, casting warm light over the long wooden table and high-backed chairs.
To pass the moments, you recall Lady Morilla's words in her letter concerning your task here.
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A man with fiery red hair and an intense look in his eyes, sits calmly in one of the high-backed chairs. During the travel north, he has been very vocal about the importance of containing the taint of the Worldwound, but the chiller climate has cooled his temper, and now he waits patiently for Dame Lebeda.
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"Well I know who will be up in the front during battle..." a wild looking female says walking in with a pet wolverine at her side as she looks at the golemn in armor...."Kharam stay here and do not go wandering off again... that got you in trouble last time...hallo all...I am Milythandyr and this is Kharam... are you all here for the mission as well...? I got a letter... it was very nice... although I am not royalty so that part confused me a bit as if it was meant for someone else and I intercepted the letter by mistake...i have never been to these parts before..." she prattles on looking for something to drink...
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Leatherhead, a hulking brute formed from slabs of muscle and mottled green scales with a crocodile's head, cocks a hairless brow at Milythandry when she makes her introduction. His massive brawny form is on full display as he's naked save a pair of dark briefs and a glossy red cape that's draped around his broad shoulders. A tiny plover periodically perches on his jaw long enough to pick at the big man's teeth. "The Croc is always happy to come to The People's aid."
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A slender--though lean--elf introduces himself as Fingalad Eldahir. He bows low, letting his platinum hair fall over his shoulders. "I am honored to work with each of you." He is dressed in pale grays, with a mail shirt peeking out of his collar, and he carries an assortment of weapons--warhammer, earthbreaker, naginata, but most prominently a longbow and quiver.
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A pair of guards opens the engraved wooden doors, and a regal woman enters, her hair tied into a tight bun. The guards stay by her side as she scans the room and then takes a seat at the head of the table.
“You must be Lady Morilla’s Pathfinders. I am Dame Sarrona Lebeda, and I am well aware of your desire for the Horn of Aroden. I am sympathetic to the cause of the crusade, and am curious to learn whether the Horn’s magic can be returned; however, the horn has already been pledged to King Noleski Surtova as a fitting part of the dowry for my daughter’s hand in marriage, and such promises cannot be overturned lightly. Nonetheless, I am willing to find a replacement gift in exchange for one kindness on your part: bring my son back home." She sighs sorrowfully as she continues.
“As of late, my son Lander has been neglecting his duties in favor of playing the part of an adventurer. His swordplay admittedly shows promise, but wielding a weapon is only one facet of being a proper lord. Worse, the style and legacy that he has become obsessed with is that of Baron Aldori, which many houses perceive as a sign that we are not as committed to a unified Brevoy as we may appear. The truancy of a second child may not seem much of a threat, but with his older sister spending her days in the capitol negotiating the web of Surtova politics, the increase of bandit activity and wolf attacks in our lands, and Lander neglecting his responsibilities within our holdings, I am concerned that he is as much a liability to our family as an asset. You are adventurous types yourselves, and understand the hazards and difficulties of the lifestyle. Perhaps you could find Lander and convince him that the way
of the sword is not the life he romantically envisions?”
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"Ah so a mission within a mission....sounds...fun...? So this boy Lander... he seems like a free spirit of sorts... glad I am not like that...so he took off did he?... do you know where he went?...did he go with anyone?...is he a capable lad or does he find himself in danger a lot of the time?...can we speak to anyone about Lander or any leads in finding him.... you know a place to start searching...? and what exactly does this horn thing do if you do not mind me asking? Just curious..." Milythandyr spurts out during the conversation...
"The Croc is used to jabronis trying to follow in his size 15 footsteps. We'll find your boy and give him the Rundown on what it means to be The People's Champion."
"Where is Lander? Is he out practicing his swordplay now?"
The Lady Lebeda nods gratefully, “Lander has taken to associating with a blacksmith named Marek Bogdan. Marek is a retired soldier and a practitioner of the Aldori style, and Lander says he’s a fine instructor, but my son spends too many hours at the Three Tongs smithy practicing his swordplay when he should be overseeing our cottars and building alliances. He was headed to the Three Tongs when last I saw him, two days ago. I hope that you will find him there, but he does not usually go so long before returning home. I worry that he may have gone out looking for trouble and truly found some. In the past nine months, bandits have raided no fewer than fifteen caravans headed either to or from Silverhall, most of them belonging to my family. The same gang seems to be behind all of the attacks — they are precisely planned, and whatever the bandits are unable to take, they set ablaze. I suspect that our family is being targeted specifically because of some political grudge, but I have no leads as to the mastermind’s identity."
"and what exactly does this horn thing do if you do not mind me asking? Just curious..." Milythandyr spurts out during the conversation...
“Many years ago, it was capable of sounding a note so pure and wondrous that the hearts of goodly folk filled with awe and courage, and the hearts of the wicked filled with fear. It gained these powers when it was blown to sound the arrival of Aroden at the Lake of Mists and Veils, when he shattered the armies of Deskari and drove Deskari’s demon avatar into the lake. Alas, whatever magic the horn once contained appears to have been lost with Aroden’s disappearance. Now, it is little more than a memento of our family’s proud history.”
She rises and turns to leave. "Please bring my son home. If you do this you will have the Horn as well as my gratitude." Her guards accompany her as she sweeps out of the room.
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"Well they told me that Lander has always been fascinated by stories of bravery and derring-do. When he was a child, he spent hours questioning soldiers, guards, and mercenaries about their campaigns and fights against monsters. His collection of Brevic military histories is second to none in Silverhall. Although I was not able to find as much info on the blacksmith other than Marek Bogdan owns the Three Tongs smithy and is a skilled artisan who specializes in making weapons. Not really my cup of expertise so that may be why they did not tell me much since I have no skill with a blade and I may have looked foolish asking questions about a trade I know nothing in." Milyth mutters out as the group walks...
Racks of weapons and metalwork line the walls of the Three Tongs smithy, and the forge is visible through a wide door. A pair of crossed Aldori dueling swords hangs on the wall opposite the front door. The antlers of several deer and elk decorate the walls. A staircase wraps around the eastern wall, leading upstairs.
A thick-shouldered man of middle age with a bald head and leathery skin makes his way to the counter from the back room as he hears you enter. He smiles and runs a hand over his patchy beard, smoothing it down to make himself more presentable. "Adventurers, eh? I've got a goodly selection of arms here, including the unmatched Aldori dueling swords. What can I help ye with then?" He has an easy, friendly manner and much of his wares appear to be masterwork quality.
Tracing his finger along the maker's mark, Lyan speaks to Marek.
"Interesting symbol you have chosen for yourself. Is there a particular story behind it"?
The smith grins, proud that someone is admiring his artistry. "Like that do ye? It's just a bit of symbolism I took a liking to some time ago. It holds meaning just for me, I suppose. Something about those who would grasp liberty must first be bold enough to reach for it. What do ye think, does it mean something to ye?"
A shadow briefly passes over Marek’s features before being replaced by his customary smile. “Ah, you've come at Dame Sarrona's bidding. I last saw Lander two days ago. He was headed out of town on the southwestern road. Over the past month or so, he’s been trying to put his training to good use — slaying monstrous vermin in the outskirts of town, that sort of thing. With the recent mattacks by bandits, Lander was convinced that he could stop them himself and live up to Baron Aldori’s legacy. Haven't seen him since then, though. Is he missing then?”
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"This sounds all very fascinating. I do like stories and this altor sword story sounds interesting. Can you start at the beginning if we have the time. I would love to hear everything about this Altori legacy, I must admit I am not skilled with a blade and neither is Kharam, I mean he is an animal and lacks opposing fingers to grasp anything and use it in his paws, that would be silly though. Can you imagine a wolverine running around with a sword, even one of your fancy dueling swords. it would be a sight to see that is for sure but even trying to grasp it would make running for him rather difficult.... as you were saying..."
"Yes, he is missing. You said he was thinking about chasing the bandits. You have have trained him. What is the odds he have against them?"
Marek scrubs his hand through his patchy beard as he considers, “Although Lander has improved quite a bit in the months I’ve been teaching him, he is still likely no match for any bandits. Though it’s unlikely he’d even find them — he doesn’t have much of a head on his shoulders for the wilderness, and is far more likely lost somewhere. If he’s lucky, he’s lost out in the countryside somewhere, playing the hero. If he’s unlucky, he’s encountered some of the nastier critters that live in the back country. Frankly, I’m worried for his safety. I hope the lad's alright.”
"This sounds all very fascinating. I do like stories and this altor sword story sounds interesting. Can you start at the beginning if we have the time. I would love to hear everything about this Altori legacy, I must admit I am not skilled with a blade and neither is Kharam, I mean he is an animal and lacks opposing fingers to grasp anything and use it in his paws, that would be silly though. Can you imagine a wolverine running around with a sword, even one of your fancy dueling swords. it would be a sight to see that is for sure but even trying to grasp it would make running for him rather difficult.... as you were saying..."
Marek chuckles, amused by the image of a wolverine with a dueling sword. “Aye, miss, happy to tell the tale. Before Baron Aldori founded his renowned school of combat, he bet his fortune to a bandit lord that he could defeat the bandit in single combat. He failed and spent years in exile before returning and defeating the bandit in mere seconds. It was this battle that established his reputation as a master swordsman. He offered to pay any challenger who could defeat him 100,000 gold as a prize. Many tried, but no one ever succeeded. Lander’s always been fascinated by tales of Aldori’s deeds, and attempts to duplicate them whenever possible.”
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"Are we going for a walk in the woods? Oh Yeah! That sounds very exciting to say the least. I love walking in the woods. And I am sure Kharam will enjoy being outside as well. He gets grumpy sometimes when he stays cooped up inside of city walls so he will enjoy his time running around the forest trails on a nice walk looking for a lost boy. This mission dies not seem that difficult at all. They should have just sent some trackers and a nurse maid to get the boy." Milythandyr prattles on and on as the group moves to the woods.
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"You seem to have done well as a mentor for this young noble. How do you feel about how he has sought you out for training?"
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Marek shrugs, “I was just his tutor for sword-fighting, at first. He needed a teacher, and I’m the best around here. He would come in to ask me about the Aldori style and watch me make swords — I had to shoo him away to keep him from getting too close to the forge. Over the past couple of months, though, we’ve gotten pretty close. He’s a good kid. A little scatterbrained, maybe, but his heart’s in the right place. I never had any children, myself, I guess I see him like the son I never had.” The smith seems almost surprised to realize this, but sincere nonetheless.
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"You seem to have done well for him. Let us hope you have been a better credit to his preparedness than you seem to feel." Fingalad bows to the smith with his hand over his heart.
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Fingalad shows himself to be a competent tracker, but let's the more skilled party members lead the way.
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The Pathfinders take the southwestern road out of town in the hope of picking up Lander’s trail. Together, Lyan and Fingalad locate the trail of a single traveler fitting Lander's height and build. It seems the young man was eager for action as his trail goes for quite a distance. After an some time upon his track, Lyan decides he can follow this trail at his full walking speed. After one full day on the trail, you make 16 miles before night falls and you must make camp.
You proceed on like this for another two days, Lander's trail sticking to the main road. You note that the young man's campsites are not well chosen or concealed after the fact. They are spaced further apart then your own, leading you to worry that you may not catch up to him at this rate.
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"By the heavens are we there yet...?!" Milythandyr says to the others...
"Does this trail even end? Who is following his trail? Are you going the right way? Can we rest, my feet hurt. Does anyone's feet hurt or am I the only one? I mean I like walking int he woods as much as anyone else and I do appreciate nature but this is like a forced march here. How far did this kid go outside of town? Can we stop to have a rest..look a that. looks like a handkerchief....tied to a branch...hmmm a white swan on a blue background... wonder what that means..."
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Enjoying the party's track through the countryside immensely, Lyan stops up and looks down the dear trail.
"All this fresh air does wonders for the soul! I do hope you're wearing decent footwear, because he wandered away from the road in that direction."
Without waiting for the others to catch their breath, or complain about their blisters, Lyan marches into the woods.
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Fingalad enjoys the travel immensely. "I have usually restricted my woodland strolls to leisure time; this is quite delightful."
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As the tracks move off the beaten path, Fingalad opts to draw his bow, though he holds it lightly and nocks no arrows. His eyes dart ever about, watching for anything that might stop their way or be a sign of risk to the nobleman.
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The deer trail winds through a heavily wooded area, heading mostly in a southerly direction. You proceed for about another hour when you notice a clearing up ahead. Lyan notices Lander's track has become quite heavy footed, a sign that you will likely come upon his campsite soon, if the pattern continues. The smell of fresh water on the air further supports this conclusion.
The deer trail leads out of the woods and winds past a large pond fed by a spring. Reeds and sedges grow tall around the pond, and piping birds are audible over the gurgling of running water. The pond drains from a stream flowing southwards. A section of grasses has been cleared away near the north edge of the pond, revealing a small fire pit caked with ashes.