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Information in the Shadow Lodge headquarters in Whitethrone leads you into the Realm of the Mammoth Lords in search of an abandoned tower of a lost Ulfen king. The powerful weapon rumored to be there could be disastrous if it falls into the hands of those who plot the Pathfinder Society’s destruction; who will find it first?
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You start in Winterthone where the Society has learned of a dangerous weapon that the Shadow Lodge is trying to get their hands on...
After rescuing a scholar, one Rognvald Skagni - an expert on the northern nations he expressed alarm that the ancient weapon could fall into such hands and has urged you to follow the Shadow lodge team and ensure the weapon does not fall into the wrong hands.
Knowing that the Shadow Lodge agents had a head start, the sage provided specific directions to the resting place of Ranulf the Huscarl
King and of the greataxe said to slumber with his bones to help the Pathfinders catch up to their foes, but there is little time to waste.
The Ulfen have a saying: “No blade is as sharp, no demon as cruel as the winds that walk their way down the Icestair.”
At the border of Irrisen and the untamed wilds of the Realm of the Mammoth Lords, the meaning of those words becomes clear as the barren, snow-covered plains stretch to the horizon.
Four days’ travel now lies between the eastern edge of Irrisen and the shattered remains of the Huscarl King’s keep. To the east, sinuous snow drifts give way to rocky foothills from which pines and scrub brushes claw for life. In the distance, the massive creatures that give this land its name shuffle along at a ponderous speed, still impossibly huge even from far away.
Skagni’s map marks a clear and straightforward path, but the snow makes for slow travel. The Shadow Lodge agents have a head start, but persistence through the harsh environment and adherence to the strict map may yet make it possible to catch them before they reach the Keep of the Huscarl King and gain access to the mighty weapon held within.
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The denizens of the Realm of the Mammoth lords are Kellids, considered primitive by many in the Inner Sea, but respected for their hardiness.
Your route goes through the domain of a Kellid tribe called the Snowmask Clan. Unlike many of the other migratory Kellid tribes, this clan has never abandoned its territory.
The Kellids of the Snowmask Clan are cunning warriors, favoring ambush whenever possible. Their familiarity with the region allows them to use terrain and natural features to their advantage.
Among the Kellid tribes of the Realm of the Mammoth Lords, the Snowmask Clan is known for members’ appreciation of great stories. One of their hospitality rituals is sharing tales with any who would be their guests. Failing to participate in this custom is a grave offense. Additionally, they rely on cave paintings to record the history of their tribe.
An Ulfen warrior once carved out a small “kingdom” for himself in the western regions of the Realm of the Mammoth Lords, earning loyalty from local Kellid tribes.
The Ulfen warrior Ranulf was known as the Huscarl King, as he had once served as one of the Emperor of Taldor’s personal guards. After he established his keep, it was attacked by a powerful white dragon who the Huscarl defeated in a battle so fierce that legends claim Ranulf ’s beard was frozen during the fight. Despite ruling for almost 30 years after the battle, Ranulf died with no heir.
Ranulf was known for his flaming greataxe, Jedrek’s Shard. Rumors persist that it was buried with him at his death when his Kellid followers caused an avalanche to cover the keep under a mountain of ice, rock, and snow, but the retreat of a glacier has now made the tomb accessible again for those brave enough to venture through Snowmask territory.
While most assume that Ranulf ’s decision to collapse the keep atop his grave was an egotistical plan to keep his fabled weapon out of the hands of others,some sages whisper that Ranulf ’s reign was also a vigil. The great Ulfen’s keep was meant to protect not only his land, but all of the north from something that once dwelt deep beneath his castle; the avalanche that buried him and Jedrek’s Shard was also meant to stop others from exploring what lies beneath.
The thick cluster of pine trees ends abruptly at the top of a low hill. At the bottom, the snow is littered with the aftermath of battle. Broken shields and spears jut from the snow like fractured bones, and blood colors the ground around a sprawl of bodies, many still seemingly locked in combat.
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Khargrom is happy the wand he ordered from his lodge arrived before he had to go. He greets his allies, remembering the simple briefing notes they all got before heading out on the trek.
He trundles along, wrapped tightly in warm clothing but feeling the cutting wind sapping his strength already. He pats his pocket, the one with his new wand. We'll see how it goes, this is just a backup. I'm tough dangit. But why'd it have to be cold!"
He looks up at his allies happy to have a decent crew. The tough one up front, yeah we can work together. Doesn't say much but should be able to provide a nice distraction for the enemies so I can sneak around behind 'em. Tha' one there, always in his magic book. At least he don't look weak. How is he not cold? And lastly, the odd lil human and his snake. How is that thing still alive out here?!? Prolly have to use the wand on it first.
Khargrom is a well trained, well drilled professional soldier of 70 years age. For a dwarf, he is of average height with a lithe build and moves quietly when he walks. His clothes, chosen for subtlety, are a dark mottling of grey, black and tan colors though currently more oriented towards warmth then stealth. Hung from his belt are finely crafted a battleaxe and warhammer. Slung over his back is a bedroll and backpack. His dark brown hair and beard are an impressive length, but always secured tightly by brown leather ties.
He whispers to his allies, "These look like they may be Kellids, native to the area. Musta been a recent battle. Might be some still hanging on. I'll go check em out." Slipping his bedroll and blanket off to the ground to lessen the jingling sounds, he moves up quietly just in case anyone is looking to keep the battle going.
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A human man wearing simple furs and leather joins up back in Whitethrone, "I hear the society can get me out of this cold and closer to the moderate forest climate if I helped out. My name is Stratacast, I took the name when I joined a circle of druids, but I'm still pretty new. Part of my training is to see many climates of the world, and I have to tell you, this climate is not my favorite."
***At the current location***
"Looks like some kind of fight. Doesn't look like either side really won either." Statacast says as his snake stays next to or in front of him.
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Farlen frowns as he looks at the mess. Whispering "Could be an ambush. Just be careful, Khargrom.
Farlen, though a reader and obviously a magic practitioner, seems stout enough being tall and muscular. He wears colorful clothes under his warm travel gear. His red hair is neatly cropped short and he keeps his gear and appearance clean and tidy. His speech has been mostly colloquial Taldon. He has Chelish heritage, but his mannerisms are not right for Chelaxian.
"I will detect magic when we get closer. It may tell us if we are seeing things straight." also at a whisper.
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There are roughly a dozen corpses, half are Kellids (with axes and wooden shields). The lower half of each of their faces is painted white in a haphazard sprwl of colour, from the upper lifp to just above the larynx.
The other bodies wear more civilised clothes, including heavy winter coats. They have been stripped of weapons, although you can make out padded armor below the winter coats.
Stratacast's snake sticks its tounge out to the cold air to taste it's nearby surroundings.
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Khargrom and Farlen notice some hidden treasure on a couple of the non kellid corpses. Snakey notices something else entirely, scenting trouble!
Trouble breaks from the nearby forest in a lightning like streak of mean coloured fur. It heads straight for Khagrom and goes for his throat. Which of course is heavily protected by a solid Dwarven Beard (tm) which it cannot get through.
no surprise due to snakey, so right into init
and charge!
Status, bold may post
Khargrom
Amri
Farlen
Stratacast
Trouble.
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Farlen is pretty sure this is a wolverine. Khargrom takes revenge upon the creature for messing with his beard. That sounded like it hurt. So did the acid for that matter. <sizzle>
Froth flies from its mouth as it enters a horrific rage. That beard looks in danger now.
Status, bold may post
Amri
Stratacast
Wolverine 13 damage
Khargrom
Farlen
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Khargrom slips his warhammer back to his belt and leans down once he sees what the druid is trying to do. "Let me try to help ya there, Strata."
Sadly though, he doesn't manage to put pressure on the right spot. Probably a bit worried about those gnarly teeth that almost ripped his beard clear off.
After that is resolved, Khargrom heads back over to the corpses, looking through them for what caught his eye before.
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Khargrom motions to the group, "Any of ya able to use this healing stick I got? Last group of pathfinders couldn't at all, it was terrible! Anyway, one of these Kellids is alive. I figure we could get some good info if we bring him back from the edge. Plus, it's probably the right thing to do or something and I doubt even if hostile they would give us much of a fight."
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"One of them is alive...barely. I don't have any healing magic prepared, but I can use a healing wand if we have one. Otherwise I can carry him with Rocky's help to a safer location to recover." Stratacast says as he eyes the Kellid's wounds.
As he places the wolverine in the bushes, "Well, it will either recover or get eaten, but such is the risk a predator takes when it attacks stronger prey. I'll let nature take its course from here. Thank you, sir dwarf."
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Else he will use his amulet to cast comprehend languages to understand. It doesn't help with talking back though.
"Speak slowly please." "Do you know common?" "What happend here?"
Farlen turns to Stratacast, "Maybe we should respectfully search for clues as to what happened here. Maybe detect for magical auras?"
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He can't really understand you, but with the help of the comprehend languages spell you get the gist of what happened here. A group of "defilers" - the terms also seems to include you - came here and refused to leave.
While grateful for not being left to die, he looks at the sky and lets you know the best part of a day has past. While he urges you to leave, he is in no position to insist on it.
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Khargrom agrees, "Yeah, use my healin' stick this time to spread out the burden on our resources. Let's get moving and start looking for shelter. If we get stuck outside at night we'll have to use my other new magic stick just to survive. I don't care if he don't want us around, we gotta stop them shadow lodgers to get that weapon, that's just bad for everyone."
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Once healed a little more the kellid scows at you... although who knows with these folk, maybe that was a friendly smile. And takes his leave.
Having little else to do you head off after the tracks. You make your way across foothills and open swaths of tundra, following your map and the tracks. In the distance you spot occasional giant sloths, and later on some massive elk. Towards evening there is even a woolly mammoth in the distance.
You hear a horn to the south in the distance.
You hear an answering horn from the north-east - more or less the direction you are heading.
The gradual shift into rockier terrain is now more apparent than ever. Large, round stones evoke cobblestones as they form a layer of ground, although the hard-packed snow is still visible between. Ahead, an ancient ring of boulders juts from the ground to form a ring. The wind’s erratic path around the massive rocks has blown the snow into large, haphazard drifts.
Amiri eyes the map, "Should be a cave close we can shelter tonight."
Rocky slithers towards the kellid while trying to bite and wrap him.
Amiri, seeing her allies injured by the cowardly ambush simply let's loose a scream of rage and steps up, pulling her oversized bastard sword and slashing it with the intent to slaughter her enemy,
for