An autumn chill filled the Pathfinder Society’s chapter house in Almas as Venture-Captain Brackett briefed you. Normally brash and outgoing, the hatchet-faced veteran’s face instead wore an expression of guarded concern. “I need you to venture into the Aspodell Mountains between Cheliax and Andoran; a dwarven prospector there seeks a lost dwarven site and we want in on his expedition. The prospector’s name is Torvic and he’s obsessively searched for years, hoping to find the hidden galleries of his ancestor, the dwarven craftsman Barek Triongger.”
At this point, the chapter’s librarian Wystorn Telfyr stepped forward and from a small wooden case, he produced several tattered scrolls and a gleaming, strangely phosphorescent pearl. “We recently acquired these from a man called Beggar. They describe the Gallery of Wonders built by Barek Triongger during the death throes of the dwarven Empire of Tar Khadurrm.”
Picking up the strangely-glowing pearl, the librarian continued, “These pearls are only found in the deepest of the Darklands’ seas. While not especially valuable, a cache of these would be a rare find. Divinations revealed that Barek apparently used this one as a key. We could claim substantial favors from the dwarves of Emperor’s Peak should we discover what it’s a key for.”
Venture-Captain Brackett took over. “I’m wagering that Beggar stole these items, as the likelihood of a wandering vagabond possessing legally acquired dwarven heirlooms seems small. Looking through these documents and comparing them to Pathfinder Chronicles on the matter, it’s clear that this Torvic is onto something.” Brackett cocked a thumb toward Telfyr. “Our librarian was able to glean some information from Beggar about where he acquired these items and was also able to divine a likely location where the dwarf might be holed up. Find him and make an alliance with him; hopefully, he’ll want his pearl back and will show you the way to the Gallery of Wonders.”
The stolen pearl matches nothing found in familiar seas. Glowing like a golden candle, the opalescent stone gleams with hints of fiery crimson.
You identify the pearl as a type found only in the Vaults of Orv, a Darklands realm far beneath the surface. Due to its extreme rarity in the surface world above the Darklands, its value is priceless.
One of the aged parchments is also intriguing. Written in Dwarven, its runes, as Telfyr explains it, tell of the dwarven craftsman Barek Triongger and his Gallery of Wonders hidden in a place called the Candlestone Caverns.
Jani is able to relate an impressive amount of material about the Barek Triongger and the Gallery of Wonders:
Almost 250 years ago, the dwarven Empire of Tar Khadurrm tore itself apart. In the tragic final chapters of a millennium-long tragedy, internal conflicts destroyed a once-great realm. Thousands fled their empire’s turmoil. Among these exiles, the master craftsman Barek Triongger may have been the most famous. Secretive keeper of techniques known in no other land, Barek refused to bow before any other dwarf. Instead of fleeing to some dwarven hold, the renowned craftsman planned his own hall, a well-hidden workshop and gallery. Deep beneath the Aspodell Mountains, the skillful chisels of his apprentices excavated a hidden Gallery of Wonders filled with masterpieces of dwarven artistry.
Barek’s dream lasted 20 years before the wondrous gallery was abandoned. A handful of survivors returned to dwarven lands, whispering of madness and murder. The amazing gallery was lost, becoming another legend of the dwarves’ fallen empire.
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Entering the office the the VC, Wuliem smiles and winks at everyone present.
He appears actually well put together. His normally scorched and stained alchemist's coat has been replaced with a new one--spotless and white.
Underneath there seems to be well-worked studded leather armor.
At his belt--in its usual place--is his cold iron dagger.
His crossed bandeliers filled with iron vials is seen beneath his coat.
"He's been known to us in Almas for many years as he made requests to use our library over the decades, which we granted," Telfyr explains. "He was genuinely respectful of the history, not just another treasure hunter."
Venture-Captain Brackett and Telfyr give each other significant looks after Hagan's comment, and Brackett confides, "Yes, We thought it would do everyone some good to get you all out of here for awhile, what with the storm of politics that is brewing. You did great work, all that we could ask, but this just isn't going to be the place to be for the next few months (at least) unless you are a lawyer."
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The tall man in the back hadn't said much until here. This was to be his first mission after all and all these people appeared to know each other.
There was another Half Orc here. This one however far more Orcish than himself, well actually he was only 1/16th Orc and most people didn't notice his decent on first sight but once they did they're behavior changed.
I was told to assist you in this mission fellow pathfinders. My name is Turan. I hail from Brevoy but have walked much and wish to learn ever more about the world. This will be my first mission with the Society
Then the large man falls silent again stepping back and apparently feeling rather uncomfortable.
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"I am Herman." pipes up a small voice from the back. "I am a collector of stories and would here some of yours from far Osirian when you care to share, Turan. Welcome to our group, and may Desna's light shine on your path!"
Herman takes out his mandolin and slowly strums the strings, thinking of what might rhyme will with Turan...
Venture-Captain Brackett replaces the scrolls and the glowing pearl back in the small wooden case and hands them over to you. (With his long experience with Pathfinders, he seems unfazed by what may be an eminent eruption of song from the bard.)
Telfyr then hands over a set of maps designed to lead you to the last encampment of Torvic in the Aspodell Mountains. "Beggar is now deeply entrenched in the Andoran legal system and won't be available, and he isn't very reliable, anyway, but by combining his information with our information and my divinations, we believe we have all you need to get to Torvic's last known encampment, about four days in from Piren's Bluff."
"We will have you go with a ship up the Andoshen and Arthrosh Rivers, and then take with a trade caravan to Piren's Bluff. The journey there will take several weeks, so buy what you may need here and make any arrangements you need to."
"We will have a mule team waiting for you at there at Piren's Bluff," Brackett continues, "a small border hamlet that sits atop a flat rock overlooking a narrow canyon leading deep into the Aspodell Mountains and the only pass through the mountains. (There are always tensions between Cheliax and Andoran, but trade still happens, too, using the trail.) Don't stray off the trail except where your map notes, as the Aspodell Mountains are monster-infested, but the trail is kept safe - well, relatively speaking - by the Aspodell Rangers."
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"Storn?!" shouts a woman's voice from just beyond the door.
A small, wiry human bursts into the room, looking about wildly. When she catches sight of him, she runs at him, launching herself through the air like a scruffy, dusty missile. She's a little on the small side for a human, rail-thin, and has hint of desperation about her.
"It IS you! You're alive! I'd recognise the smell of squirrels and Gorum anywhere!" She wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes him tightly. "I knew you were alive! I told them you were alive! But nobody believed me. No sir! No one believes Oz." Oz lets go of him and drops back to the ground. Then she slaps him. "How come you never told me you weren't dead?!"
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A loud clank sounds as the small woman launches herself at Storn, rocking him back and then clinging to him. His eyes are huge as he stares down at her.
"OZ?! I... I thought you were eaten by a demon! Wh-- we're in Andoran - how did you find me?! Hah! Who cares? It is good to see you. I trust you have strewn many battlefields with the livers of your enemies?"
He beams an enormous, broken-toothed smile as he looks from Oz to the rest of the group.
"This is Oz, my sister and a woman of great valour - not prone to the same excessive forethought and caution that is my weakness. May I introduce you to Hagan, Herman, Wuliem, and Jani who I have slain many a foe with. Turan and I have just met, but he looks like he can punch out a cow, so we'll get along fine."
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"Jani. We are pleased to meet you," says the tiefling, before turning back to the map.
"Are there many Asphodels in the mountains? Is that how they got their name? What sorts of monsters are known to inhabit them? DO we know anything about this Torvic person other than what you've already told us?"
Jani rattles off the questions rapidly, then stares with head cocked to one side at Brackett, as if expecting him to return the answers with the same speed.
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Turan manages the slightest of smiles at the outrages northfolk siblings. Having grown up in Brevoy he'd had the opportunity to meet folk from the Realm of the Linnorm Kings on ocassion and they had always found it a bit tricky to mingle with his people who cared so much about etiquette.
I have come to the society to seek knowledge and physical perfection. The broad shouldered young man replies a bit stiff. But I have never punched an ox, I have however actually wrestled a bear! he pulls up the shirt on his right shoulder to show of the scars from this ocassion. Then gleams a broad smile. His large pointed teeth seem just a bit out of place. Also his hulking frame and the body hair aplenty hint at a trace of orcish blood in his veins.
At the sudden commotion, Telfyr reflexively ducks down behind the desk, followed by Brackett. Brackett looks at him quizzically after a moment and the diviner shrugs, "Sorry - didn't see that one coming."
"Ah," Telfyr reflects as he stands up and takes in what has just happened, "the fates can be cruel but they can also be kind: It's good to see family get back together, especially after the recent unpleasantness."
Brackett straightens up, too. "Ah, yes, I almost neglected to mention your other new team member, Ozka, or 'Oz'. In keeping with the Decemvirate's recent policies, we are giving her a field commission seeing that you could use an archer of her skill and the Confirmation can wait until later. Didn't realize that you were related, though: What is it with you mammoth punchers and full names?!" Brackett - also well-known for his singular name - ends his rhetorical question with a hearty laugh.
Brackett looks at Jani, mentally cataloging their questions. "Good questions! Let's see... Never heard of them. I have no idea. Probably the worst on the surface are barbaric giants and dragon-kin - you'd do well to avoid both; below ground, probably evil fey, as well as all of the usual inhabitants of the Darklands. Torvic? No, not really. An expert dwarven stonemason and craftsman, it seems."
"As I was saying, make any final preparations and purchases you have to make and the ship will sail in the morning."
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The journey from Almas up into the Aspodell Mountains is long but uneventful, save for dismal frigid rains. In the plains, the dreary autumn weather carries promises of a harsh winter, but the mountain weather is much worse.
After enduring days of relentless mountain wind and sleeting rain, clambering past jagged stone faces and slogging through ice-crusted mud, the you finally reach the valley holding Torvic’s encampment. Gnarled conifers surround the mountain trail, their fallen needles carpeting the rocky valley. The trail cuts back and forth upslope toward the cave described by Telfyr. A plume of smoke rises from the cave’s mouth.
Barricades of wooden boughs block the cave entrance, their sharpened branches lashed together with rawhide cords.
But, something is amiss! Oz and Wuliem hear sounds of fighting coming from within the cave!
Turan pushes heavily against the barricade and it seems to almost give, but the the branches and cords are resilient and bend with his force...
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Wuliem reaches into his bandelier for a vial.
He moves up to Turan as he is attempting to squeeze past the barricade.
This may help you fit.
Source Advanced Player's Guide
Each pot of this slick black goo has sufficient contents to cover one Medium or two Small creatures. If you coat yourself in alchemical grease, you gain a +5 alchemical bonus on Escape Artist checks, on combat maneuver checks made to escape a grapple, and to your CMD to avoid being grappled; this lasts 4 hours or until you wash it off.
Hold still a second my good man!
Storn and Turan together manage to burst the pliant barricade inward.
Inside, you see a lone dwarven male who has just been beaten down by a gang of hideous, small blue creatures. They have pointed ears and nearly-hairless, puffy and wrinkled heads that seem almost as large as the rest of their bodies. Armed with darts and daggers, they squint and hiss at the sudden influx of light, gesturing towards two giant ants!
They are mites, and degenerate, evil underground fey species. They have a particular empathy for vermin.
Mites are often slaves of more powerful fey and subterranean horrors, like the evil, insane derro. They have some resistance to damage, like most fey, that can be over come by cold iron.
The giant ants can grab and also have a strength-sapping poisonous sting.
The huge, vein-shot eyes of the two closest mites bulge hideously, one at Storn and one at Turan, and they feel a sense of doom wash over them.
You feel shaken for one minute.
These two then run behind their fellows, who each throw a dart at Turan.
Fortunately, both of the darts miss, clattering weakly against the ground and cavern wall.
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"I don't know what these things are, but they seem to be attacking that poor dwarf fellow. Let's have at them. Maybe we can have the ballad of Turan the Mite Slayer, or Oz Ant-Bane to go along with the lay of Storn the Unwashed."
Herman advances and begins pulling sheep wool from his pouch and incanting in a sing-song manner.
Turan moves in to block the ant.
Hagan moves in and throws his spear, narrowly missing the small blue creature.
Jani moves in and attempts to hex the ant in front of Turan.
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Source Advanced Player's Guide
Each pot of this slick black goo has sufficient contents to cover one Medium or two Small creatures. If you coat yourself in alchemical grease, you gain a +5 alchemical bonus on Escape Artist checks, on combat maneuver checks made to escape a grapple, and to your CMD to avoid being grappled; this lasts 4 hours or until you wash it off.
Wuliem eyes the movement of his companions, spying the best way to assist them.
Bombs away! to 06.
Wuliem's bomb, complicated by cover and companions and distance, goes far off the mark, but in a direction where it hits a wall and detonates, somehow managing to damage only his enemies!
The far ant and the mites are all showered with flame, mostly avoiding the worst of it, with one mite falling and the rest seemingly nearly so.