You hear some kind of dull noise. You hear it again. And again. And again.
”dance! Dance! DANCE! DANCE! DANCE! DANCE! The scene fades in and you see many people banging their tankards on tables. You’re in some kind of cafeteria.
The men and women here are clad in various suits of armor, all bearing the same symbol: some kind of gem pattern. The armor is worn, clearly used in many battles. Some are singed slightly. In the center of the room is a man with slate-gray skin, dancing as hard as he can. It’s clear entertainment isn’t his strong suit. The crowd cheers anyway, they are too drunk to care.
The scene pulls away from the mess hall, and pans across a rocky field for maybe a kilometer or two. Two figures, cast in shadow against the night sky, are at some kind of obstacle field. One of the voices, an elder female, shouts at the young male. ”No, put the rocks higher. Higher! I need them to fall when they start climbing, not before. If they pass this course it’s coming out of your hide!”
”Please Captain! I understand!” The male cries out, fear evident in his voice even as he struggles to lift the stones.
”Good.” As the woman turns around, a nearby torch lights up her mouth long enough to see her grin from ear to ear.
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Flaith Festung is a beauriful young woman, about 5`6`` weighting around 140 Pounds. She has long braided honeycoloured hair and emerald green eyes.
She is wearing gold etched armor and a round steel shield with a golden Lion crest and armed with a cold iron Longsword.
The courtyard outside of Sorrina Westyr’s office is a tribute to the element of earth. Large, dark boulders jut from a carpet of smooth pebbles. Wild flowers and moss spring from the cracks between the stones. The Master of Spells’ slate- gray skin seems to blend into the rock she lounges on in the sun-dappled courtyard, her face upturned to the cloudless sky. Sorrina stretches luxuriously before turning to smile.
“Enjoy the open air while you can, Pathfinders,” she says. “You are to be among the first agents sponsored to explore the planes—the Plane of Earth, to be exact. Reyshal ik Jalman, the Society’s contact on the Plane of Earth, recently alerted us to a rare opportunity. The Sultana’s constant war with the City of Brass means the shaitan empire needs more soldiers, and they have begun recruiting off-world mercenaries to train alongside their military. That’s where you come in.” Westyr leaps to her feet in a fluid motion, pulling an amethyst crystal wrapped in copper wire from her pocket.
“Please travel with Reyshal to the Opaline Vault. He can pull some strings to get you in with the mercenary company known as the Ungrounded. Complete the basic training and prove to your superiors that the Pathfinders are useful allies. Reyshal and I believe that working with the Ungrounded will lay the foundation for an alliance with the Peerless Empire. What’s more, this is an excellent means for you to establish your own professional credentials and connections.” Westyr pauses to brush a fallen leaf from her hair. “I’ll contact Reyshal as soon as you’re ready.”
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Uncertain of how she was meant to approach, Sarsa had awkwardly walked to what was more or less the center of the large room, and meandered about until the speaker caught her attention. She wore simple traveling robes that concealed the exact shape of her body behind flowing, baggy cloth. Long, auburn hair covered her ears, flowing down past her shoulders, and the narrow features on her face made everything look a little too close together to be conventionally attractive. Nevertheless, she made her best attempt to give at the very least a passing nod to those who did the same to her.
Unused to such a formal setting, Sarsa was uncertain how to affirm herself to The Master of Spells. She seemed to start into a half-hearted salute before finding it a rather silly endeavor.
This isn't the military..
With her best efforts to make it look smooth, she swung the saluting hand down into a light bow, holding it for a moment before lifting her head to look at the seemingly relaxed woman. Despite looking at Sorrina, her words were directed towards those she would soon be traveling with.
"I will admit, I know very little about planes outside our own. But I am a Pathfinder, untested as I may be, and I will put forth my best efforts to show that we are more than capable, as I am sure all of you intend to do as well. It is the very nature of Pathfinders to be put in strange circumstance with people they hardly know, is it not? I'm certain we will each excel!"
Once your preparations and research are complete, the Master of Spells uses a short copper wire and a piece of amethyst. They go up in a puff of smoke, and she whispers, “Preparations are complete. We are ready.”
The boulder opposite Sorrina Westyr’s seat ripples like water. What appears to be a towering stone statue of a muscular man clad in gold-lacquered armor emerges from the stone. He bows dramatically to the Master of Spells.
“Well met, Trail Seekers,” he grins wryly as Sorrina frowns in irritation. “Of course, I mean Pathfinders. Just a jest between friends.” The shaitan steps forward and inclines his head in a shallow version of the bow he just performed for Sorrina.
“I am Reyshal ik Jalman, humble servant of Her Radiance, Ashadieeyah bint Khalid, and sworn ally to the steadfast Master of Spells. Today I am honored to escort you to the Opaline Vault, the glorious home of my ancestors. I hope that together we can cement the bonds between our peoples, dear Pathfinders. But first, please, introduce yourselves!”
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Korvan steps forward bows his head slightly akin to how Reyshal just did and says "I am Korvan, a hunter from the wilderness and a Pathfinder to the core. I hope to prove myself in the coming tests and bring honor to the Pathfinders and to Her Radiance Ashadeyahbinkhal Id" "My companions and I stand ready to do our part." and then he steps back to let another speak.
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Sarsa steps forward, a bit uncertain about all the names being thrown around. Keeping track is going to be a pain..
"My name is Sarsa Valen, er.. sir?", she shot a sideways glance towards Gratius for approval before looking back towards Reyshal, along with a slight bow. "Pathfinder, Enchanter, at your service."
"What a fine group of heroes you have brought before me." Reyshal grins at Sorrina before turning back to you. "It seems like you are all prepared. Let us go."
Once the pleasantries are complete, he asks everyone to stand in a circle and join hands. You feel a sense of vertigo and a tugging feeling in your stomachs.
A spinning tunnel of shimmering crystals gives way to the inside of an immense geode, a cavern so vast that the walls and ceiling appear as a distant night sky. Multicolored twinkling lights hang in the air like stars, painting shifting auroras across the geode’s walls. At the heart of the city, radiant spires of gold and platinum emerge from a churning lake of liquefied gemstones, connected by soaring bridges. “Welcome to the Rainbow Metropolis,” Reyshal whispers.
You are about a 2 mile walk away from the city. Reyshal is an excellent guide, preventing you from getting lost. He mentions a few of the more interesting landmarks: the Peerless Embassy that hosts diplomats from across the universe. The Slab, a mile-long barracks that hosts most of the sultan’s shaitan army.
”Welcome to the Outer District.” Reyshal gestures to the various buildings, many of which are indigenous to the Material Plane. ”Many offworld residents move here and try to earn the pasha’s favor with a combination of diplomatic and business favors.” He brings your attention to the many flags, banners and coats of arms displayed prominently on the buildings.
Reyshal leads you to a windowless building, 20 feet high. Banners bearing the company’s sigil, a crossed scimitar and spear on a field of yellow, mark the main entrance. ”This is called the Ungrounded Barracks, dedicated to… unconventional solders. I will bring you to the training captain’s office.”
"Your very presence is your favor. You represent the Pathfinder Society, who helped me in less fortunate times. I know you will show the barracks your very best. Reyshal grins at Flaith.
A heavy wooden door opens to reveal an immaculate office barely large enough to house the writing desk and bookshelf within. The unpainted stone walls are devoid of windows or decoration. A stern, middle-aged human woman with darkly tanned skin and close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair sits in a rigid pose behind the desk as she studies an open ledger. She lifts her chin and glares at the open door.
Reyshal produces a paper-thin chiseled stone tablet and hands it to the human woman. She spends a few minutes studying the page, looking up to frown at you. Finally she exhales and thanks Reyshal. ”I’ll begin accelerated training immediately. Thank you for bringing these… Pathfinders to me.” Reyshal nods, gives you one parting bow, and leaves the office. ”Good luck, Pathfinders. Captain Othis will get you up to speed.”
He leaves and closes the door. Captain Othis crushes the note with her hands, leaving a pile of stone chips. “So, you think you have what it takes to be Ungrounded?” the captain bellows, circling you combatively. “I’ll be the judge of that. You look softer than night soil to me. Your friends in high places won’t help you when you’re down in the trenches, or when there’s an efreeti scimitar at your throat. Now, get out of my sight. Your trials start tomorrow. Dinner is at six o’clock sharp. If you’re late, you can starve.”
Captain Othis stomps her way to the door and yells outside. ”Dell! Dell Darkblade! Get over here!” An oread walks into the room. ”Take this fresh meat to the meatlocker. I have more important things to do.”
A young oread warrior hustles up to the door, short on breath. "Yes... captain. Right this way."
Dell exhales, somewhat nervously. "Well, you don't want to be caught after hours, of course. Just try to stay on her good side."
Dell Darkblade maintains a hurried pace as he shows you around.
”You’ve seen the Captain’s room. She’s in it for most of the day except for dinner and when she goes to sleep.”
”There is the Mess Hall, they are preparing dinner. There’s plenty of room to sit down as most of the troops are deployed.”
”That is the Training Yard. It’s more of a stadium, where you can sit on the raised viewing stands and look at the recruits on the ground level.”
”And here is the Bunks, where we reside. And here… is your room.” Dell Darkblade opens the door. The previous inhabitants left in a hurry, and it’s a complete mess. It looks like there are only 5 beds to sleep on, and none of them are dressed properly. ”Oh, this won’t do… the Captain hates messes. She’ll demerit you to the ground if you mess up too much.” He bows to you and leaves. ”See you at dinnertime.”
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"We better clean this up. Make it look at least neat. We don't want to get on the Captain's bad side without earning it."
Hudor goes about cleaning the room as the best he can, hopefully with the others helping.
After cleaning the room, "You know. The room being such a mess is really out of place. Soldiers would normally keep their sleeping quarters spotless. I wonder if the mess was someone looking for something and not the soldier's doing."
Looking at the beds, "Five beds but six of us. I'm use to sleeping outside, so I can use my winter blanket and sleep on the floor. I don't mind doing that."
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Sarsa found herself quick to agree with Hudor. Better to be on the safe side and clean up. She made attempts to make one of the beds as well as pick up anything laying about on the floor, trying to find places for things that had none.
After they were finished, she turned to the others. "It did look quite a mess.. but what could there be in bunks like this, save maybe some rather," she ran a finger along the covering on the nearest bed, "... rough cloth."
"It's a kind offer, and if that's the case I suppose I will take the bed farthest from the door, if none of you mind."
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Since two others volunteered to sleep outside Korvan keeps his mouth shut.
and while he is not a soldier by nature, more of a contracted military scout, Korvan finds solace in cleaning the barracks as if it is natural for him. He even finishes early and helps some of the others square away their bunk and kit.
You continue to clean up the beds. Hudo elects to sleep on the floor.
It’s dinnertime, and the smell of roasted potatoes wafts through the Mess Hall. As you approach the line, a group of seasoned warriors approach you and block access to the line.
One of the warriors, a lean half-orc, laughs. ”New recruits? Ha! I guess you don’t know of our tradition here: new recruits entertain us for the rest of the night. If you won’t party with us, you won’t fight with us!” The rest of the soldiers in the room cheer and bang their mugs in unison. ”DANCE! SING! STORY! DANCE! SING! STORY!”
If you want to get in the good graces of the company, you’ll have to entertain them.
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Sarsa hesitated a moment as she weighed her potential options. None of them seemed particularly appealing, as she wasn't skilled at dancing, singing, storytelling, or really any form of entertainment.
Nevertheless, she was certain that many of the new recruits faced the same problem, and hunger wins over pride nine times out of ten. Sarsa stepped forward, raised her arms towards the crowd of soldiers and shouted out, "Let it be known the Pathfinders back down from no challenge!"
She moved with very little grace, very little form, and next to no idea of what she was doing. But she figured it more or less looked like dancing, and that was good enough for her.
The company begins to dance and sing, but Kent's performance amazes everyone, even himself.
The company erupts into cheer, banging their mugs of ale as they clap and hoot. The half-orc claps. ”My name’s Larssok. And here is some extra ale, on me.” He hands you all an extra mug. ”Welcome to the Ungrounded.”
With food taken care of, it seems like you spent the rest of the day trying to acquaint yourself with the rest of the Ungrounded. But now it’s time to rest...
At the stroke of midnight, you hear someone hit a metal pot with a wooden ladle right outside the door to your room. ”This is Captain Othis! Open up and at attention!”
She steps right in as soon as you open the door, inspecting your beds. ”You can tell a lot from someone who can’t make their bed. If you can’t do such a simple task, how can I trust you to oil your armor, sharpen your sword, or lay your life to save the empire?”
Captain Othis and inspects your bedding. Her cruel smile turns to a frown. "Cleaned and tidy. Well done...Pathfinders."
”I shall return at 0600 hours to personally wake you up. Don’t waste my time.” She turns and leaves the room.
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Exhausted from all the food, drink, and social interaction courtesy of the Ungrounded, Sarsa had bolted upright on her bed at the sound of the ladle, but still stood as ordered.
She held her breath practically the entire time the Captain was in the room, and as she left, let it all out in a heavy exhale. Afterwards, she turned towards the others;
"After finally seeing her smile like that, I think I prefer her frown. I guess we've got six hours until she busts in again. Should we sleep, or explore some more?"
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Gratius enjoyed the camaraderie of the other soldiers, and do his best to fraternize with the other soldiers.
When the Captain gets out, he says.
I prefer to sleep, our first mission is to prove our worth as Ungrounded. Being tired the first day of trials will not help us.
He gets back to his bed and starts sleeping.
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Hudor jumps up from the floor he was resting and stands at attention as the Captain enters to inspect. When she leaves, Hudor sighs. "I hope she is just doing her job than having it out for us."
"As I would love to know more about our Captain. I'm not much for sneaking and agree that we need to be well rested for tomorrow."
He goes back to his blanket and prepares to go to sleep.
As promised, six hours pass before you hear the same loud banging. ”Open up, you lazy Pathfinders! Darkblade needed ten minutes to open up on his first day; I had him peeling potatoes for a week!” You manage to get out of bed and open the door. ”Good. Make your beds and get dressed. There’s a new shipment of armor that needs to be dragged from market all the way to the armory. Guess who I volunteered to perform the delivery.”
For the next three and a half hours, you deliver equipment to the armory and food to the kitchen. Some tools need to be maintained, as well. It’s grueling work.
0930 hours. New recruits clean their room, the mess hall and other common areas. You’d swear Captain Othis chose the smallest brushes and smelliest soap she could find. It’s two more long hours, and the physical strain is getting to you.
At 1130, Captain Othis stomps through the Mess Hall as you’re cleaning. Her muddy boots leave a trail across the floor. ”Lunchtime is in half an hour, cadets. I expect this room to be so clean I could eat off the floor. We start marching drills at 1230 hours.”
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Sarsa, put simply, was just not cut out for this kind of work. It was beyond grueling. Sweat dripped down her face, causing some of her hair to stick to her in unattractive ways. She glanced with forlorn eyes at the tracks the captain had left, rather than at the captain herself, and could barely stifle a groan.
As she redoubled her efforts, she could only dread the coming marching drills, her limbs already aching.