'During the rise of the Empire of Cheliax a great battle was fought in the valley now known as the Bloodsworn Vale between the emperor’s forces and the barbarian lords of the north. Although Cheliax won, countless soldiers were massacred in one of the bloodiest engagements of the Expansion Wars. Some say the fields of roses that dot the vale date to that time, and that for every soldier who fell, a blood-red rose grew to mark his grave. Today, Cheliax is a shadow of its former glory, rent by civil war and ruled by devil worshipers. The vale, once a vital trade route, has been reclaimed by wilderness. Only the rose bushes remain to remind travelers of the former empire.'
-The Pathfinder Chronicles
“Land, Gold, and Title!” Those are the things promised for taming the great swath of wilderness known as the Bloodsworn Vale, but so far, the journey there has been little more than hardship and boredom. As the miles roll past and the Mindspin Mountains draw ever nearer, the company of merchants you travel with has grown steadily more subdued. Some even whisper that the vale is haunted or cursed.
After crossing through Icedeep Pass, the wagons pull up short to take in the view. Far in the distance, the ice-capped peaks of the Mindspin range are visible beyond a lush green wilderness. Below spreads a sea of leaves, broken only here and there by fields of blood-red roses. Perhaps twenty miles ahead, a wooden fort breaks through the forest canopy, with a thin wisp of smoke twisting into the air. Suddenly, the promises of “Land, Gold, and Title” don’t seem so far-fetched after all.
Gaxsban breaths deeply.
"You smell that? It's nature, I've in those damn cities too long, this is were the a man aught to be. I thought I heard a bard singing about this place once. I think he said that the roses grow were all the blood was spilt in some long ago battle," he pauses to scratch his head, "but it was Cheliax that won that battle, and they're always cutting trees and plowing fields so you have to wonder why nature would honer their dead?"
He turns to his companions, "what do you say? will we all be lords and ladies soon? Dressed in those silly cloths the city folk like with rings on our fingers and gold in our pockets? Or will we spill our blood and add new roses to some soon to be forgotten field?"
He turns to his companions, "what do you say? will we all be lords and ladies soon? Dressed in those silly cloths the city folk like with rings on our fingers and gold in our pockets? Or will we spill our blood and add new roses to some soon to be forgotten field?"
The beautiful woman in black and gray smiles at Gaxsban from her horse. In a contralto touched by a faint accent of the South, Vel answers, "I would as soon the blood spilled is that of the monstrous creatures. I intend to keep mine exactly where it is. And I would have no objection to 'gold, land, and title.'"
The grubby looking halfling had over the course of the last few days introduced himself as Fleaux Birchmantle (see "the tale of Fleaux Birchmantle for another description and info)to virtually everyone who was not already aquainted with him in the caravan. (with much wrinkling of nose from some of the more refined looking merchants) He ranged out several times astride a large well groomed and leather clad dog, on their journey through the pass,to stare at some plant, or throw his arms skyward and shout inexplicably in the tongue of the northern tribes. Upon hearing the words of Gaxban and Vel called out with a laugh "Would that we all in death enrich the world so! Twas Nature's honor they serve to enrich, better here then in some Devil haunted pit!" With that he reached down and grabbed a handful of moist earth laid bare by wagon rut. Bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply he then scattered it before him (leaving a large smudge on the tip of his nose). He then fell back into line eyes darting about the natural surroundings, and abruptly began to recite some sort of rhyming verse in the tongue of the Shoanti. (which Gax or anyone who speaks Shoanti would recognize as a "naming rhyme" a word of mouth method of categorizing birds, plants, and beasts. He seems to be focusing on the visible flora and fauna and thanking the ancestors and spirits)
Catching sight of the fort he's heard to mutter" oh, that's not so bad..."
Fleaux's brows crinkle and his laugh lines briefly disappear as a frown passes over his features "This choice of words, -tame this wild land- doesn't bode well for the natural cretures therin and I am bound by an oath to investigate such.....progress" he intones then handingthe note back, quips "besides I had no where better to go just now."
"Opposing the expansion of civilization is a losing battle, Fleaux. You might make a difference for a time, but there are more of them than there are of you. Still, where civilization and nature come into conflict, it has potential to be disastrous for all sides. Perhaps we can prevent that outcome, at least."
"Opposing the expansion of civilization is a losing battle, Fleaux. You might make a difference for a time, but there are more of them than there are of you. Still, where civilization and nature come into conflict, it has potential to be disastrous for all sides. Perhaps we can prevent that outcome, at least."
"I think you are mistaken friend," Gax says looking over the wilds, "it is civilization that is often on the loosing end of these battles. This is partly because man always seems to turn on itself when these's nothing left to fight, but also nature is a truly powerful beast that shall never be overcome by mere mortals."
(which Gax or anyone who speaks Shoanti would recognize as a "naming rhyme" a word of mouth method of categorizing birds, plants, and beasts. He seems to be focusing on the visible flora and fauna and thanking the ancestors and spirits)
"You speak the language of the elders," Gax says walking closer, "Tell me, little one, do you know the tales of these lands?"
Througout the trip, Finrod is seen sometimes with the caravan and sometimes not. On occasion a caravaneer is startled when he turns around and nearly collides with the elven Ranger, not having noticed him standing there.
While the caravan takes a break, you see him sitting on a nearby boulder deftly binding new fletching to an arrow, gazing with piercing green eyes over the scene below the pass.
As the conversation turns to civilization and barbarity, he seems amused somehow behind his everpresent scarf.
He makes some hand gestures, recognizable by any Ranger as
Seeing the look of uncomprehension on many faces, he croaks out, "Goblin country." He returns to warily watching the distant foliage, as if expecting attack at any moment.
"Opposing the expansion of civilization is a losing battle, Fleaux. You might make a difference for a time, but there are more of them than there are of you. Still, where civilization and nature come into conflict, it has potential to be disastrous for all sides. Perhaps we can prevent that outcome, at least."
"Listen to the explorer, halfling," Vel answers. "It is ours, as the people chosen by the deities, to take the wild places as we need them. As for the natural creatures, there is no grudge -- there is yet plenty of room for them. It is the other creatures, those that do not obey the laws of men or nature, that concern me now, and should concern you."
"I don't know about divine right, but it has been my experience that civilization can replace its losses much quicker than nature. There may yet be room for civilization to expand for centuries to come without exhausting the resources nature provides, but in the battle between them, no quarter is asked, and none is given. And surely as hares multiply without restraint, so too do the so called civilized nations."
"I don't know about divine right, but it has been my experience that civilization can replace its losses much quicker than nature. There may yet be room for civilization to expand for centuries to come without exhausting the resources nature provides, but in the battle between them, no quarter is asked, and none is given. And surely as hares multiply without restraint, so too do the so called civilized nations."
"All I know is that I've see many ruins of man in my journeys, all must have been great cities once, and yet nature has reclaimed them all. Those mountains you see over there will outlive any of us and these hills we walk on have probably shrugged off many an invasion, but if you say it is otherwise, who am I to argue with you? I was only making talk."
Gaxsban shrugs and keeps walking. Other may have noticed that Gaxsban always walks (even when there's space available to ride on one of the wagons.
Fleaux shoots his gaze to and fro saying "Goblins?" he barks a quick Shoanti word to his mount, whose ears perk up obediantly and begins to sniff at the air. The small man then turns back to the conversation, "The rise and fall of races and ways of life are indeed part of the turning of the great wheel, do not the black ants of the Ashwood build their empire to glory in the fastness of a tree stump, only to be washed away by the spring flood when at the noontide of their bliss?" and then adds "the balance must always be...and indeed it is the unnatural that most crave the loss of it...so I agree heartily on that count at least..the abhorrent and unnatural will find no pity at the end of Hawktalon!" gesturing to the point of the spear held under one arm and laying across what could be loosely described as a saddle. With a quick wink to Vel he adds " And the gods? even they must die in there turn." Turning to Gaxban he goes on, "though I know the lay of a great many lands, my eyes turn ever east and north and this is the first time I have ever ventured to the south of Korvosa, so alas, my knowledge is limited, Hoban, Finrod what say you? been this far south before?" And a brief scan tells him that the elf has disappeared once again. (@ Ashendel)
(west and north-whoops)
Turning to Gaxban he goes on, "though I know the lay of a great many lands, my eyes turn ever west and north and this is the first time I have ever ventured to the south of Korvosa, so alas, my knowledge is limited, Hoban, Finrod what say you? been this far south before?"
"Yes, tell us," the big man says, "I enjoy a good tale, I also like song and dance, but the road is hardly the place for such antics. If you have a tale to tell please share it. A good tale can make a long road short and heal weary feet."
Finrod glances at the positon of the sun and the unmoving caravan, turns to the rest of the company and rasps; "Why is this caravan not moving?"
A cold feeling comes over him; something is dreadfully wrong. Slowly he eases an alchemists fire arrow out of his quiver...
Picking up on Finrod's unease, Hoban loosens his sword and axe, prepared to draw them if something happens.
Gaxsban tilts his head to listen, shrugs, and then to the others.
"I hear nothing but a little caution never hurt anyone," Gax says as he moves his scythe from his shoulder to both hands, "should we spot anything be weary of a feint. The nasty little things love traps."
After waiting for what seems like an eternity with nothing happening Gaxsban sighs and plops his scythe back on his shoulder.
"Might as well talk while we wait for something to happen." He eventually says, "I hate silence. Worse then Goblins actually . . . a goblin can only kill you once. Let's talk, quietly though, in case there really are goblins about. Maybe we should finally introduce ourselves after this long journey! Ha! Where's everyone from? My name's Gaxsban if anyone didn't hear, and I come from north. I love good food and conversation, drink in moderation, though I'm not afraid of getting drunk, other people seem afraid of me getting drunk," he smiles fondly as if remembering some pleasant memory, "and of course song and dance . . . although I'm good at neither, except after I've been drinking. I hope this fort is a lively place. Seems the rest of our company has grown quite as of late . . . haunted or not, I hope this vale has good food and drink!"