You are making your way through the crowded streets of Absalom on a mundane mission, the sort that is usually issued to Pathfinder Society neophytes. But you all were hanging about the Grand Lodge on a warm midsummer morning; and if there's one thing Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin hates, it's idle Pathfinders.
He promptly sent you off to The Coins with, essentially, a grocery list for the evening repast. This isn't the sort of thing you expect to do at your experience level, and you made no bones about it. But Valsin simply waved his hand and sent you on your way, and that was the end of that discussion.
Among the throngs on the midday streets of Absalom, a gnarled beggar passes by. A copper for th' poor, good folk. A copper for th' poor! Here but for th' grace o' th' gods go ye! His grimy fist deftly slips a crinkled piece of paper into Bishop's palm before vanishing back into the swarm of longshoreman, merchants, stevedores, and other pedestrians.
The Saucy Wench is one of the few permanent structures in the Grand Bazaar in the Coins District of Absalom. It is a four-story mead hall of ill repute.
The Saucy Wench is also one of Osprey's favorite places to disseminate secretive orders from the Society to its member Pathfinders.
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Floating down from the sky to attend another call for aid, Ignatious enters the Lodge bringing with him a nearly palpable sense of peace and serenity. He is tall and athletic, for a priest, speaking with kind words as he makes his way inside.
A soft light seems to always come from him, and while not harmful, his head is constantly wreathed in flame, a gift of his heritage. Unsheathed at his side is a scimitar, the weapon of his faith, forged from a rare metal, but designed so that the blade itself looks to be a flame. He also has a Morningstar, but it seems as though it's never been used.
"I see. It is off to the Coins, then." These silly mortals. While it's certain that the Society honestly believes this mission is of some importance, they just do not understand the depths of what truly is. But still, it has always been Ignatious's experience that the universe has a way of getting word to those best able to help out, and often that was him and the team he was with under just such circumstances.
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Walking comfortably down the streets is a man decked in exceptionally fine, but well broken in, gear. While his muted chain armor and boots certainly stand out, it is his bow that makes the man. Made of lavishly carved wood and highlighted in Andoren blue, it's obviously worth a fortune. Still it is his travelling mate that draws the eyes of many. Next to him is a wolf the size of a horse. If the ranger's garb is subdued, the wolf's is resplendent. Mithral barding of elven make hugs the lupine form.
When he looks down at the note, he simply raises an eyebrow...
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San Xiao rolls down the streets of Absalom in his lavishly-decorated rickshaw, pulled by his finely dressed manservant. An ornate umbrella rests in a socket next to him, shading him from the beating sun. Even though he has ample room for another passenger, he gives anyone asking for a ride a sharp, wordless glare.
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Approaching the group is a tall muscular man wearing monk robes. He is a peacefull man who looks like he wouldnt hurt a fly. He is very calm and appears to be the one of the holiest people around, however if anyone can detect evil he is the worst of all. He has a tonpha and few potions on his side and but other than that is completely unarmed.
Looking toward Ignatious "Greatings friend nice to work with you again. It has been long time." He glances at everyone else. "Hello fellow pathfinders and new fiends."
It is currently midday. You have roughly six hours to go before sundown; you're in Absalom, so you can purchase pretty near anything you want.
As the day's sun becomes a lazy red in the twilight sky, you enter the capacious Saucy Wench, and quickly learn its name is not at all ironic; its all-female, interracial serving staff (and their identical serving outfits) are indeed among the sauciest women in all the Coins as they bustle all about the crowded first floor. Three smile sweetly at Kalendir while several others seem particularly taken with the more exotic Ignatious.
Osprey sits in the far corner near a half-boarded window, his stubble-covered chin the principal feature jutting from beneath his shadowed cowl. He nods as you catch his eye, the table before him already set with a half-dozen wooden mugs that match the one in his hand. A server flashes before the table as you navigate his direction, leaving behind a gallon cask. He motions for you to sit, then leans forward and speaks, his voice barely audible about the hubbub all about.
One of my field operatives has been travelling undercover with a small team of Aspis Consortium explorers. He takes a sip from his mug, then continues. Two weeks ago, my agent Eiastor Wyrn reported through my channels that they had found the fabled Drowning Stones and recovered from them a significant stash of a rare and deeply disturbing set of demon-linked stones. His eyes fix firmly on Kalendir as he says this last, perhaps looking for a reaction. After a moment, he wearily sits back in his chair. That was the last I heard from Wyrn, and I'm starting to grow concerned. I was preparing a larger group of Pathfinders to track down the Consortium team and, shall we say, "commandeer" their stash. But this silence prompts more immediate action.
His voice drops again as he leans in. If what we believe about these stones is true, they cannot fall into the hands of the Aspis. Do you understand? They cannot. Another, longer pull from his mug, then: You'll be going to the Mwangi Expanse.
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"You likely don't remember us Osprey" the ranger is obviously referring to Timber when he says us. "you've been good to me before though. If hunting the Aspis is the mission, then you chose well. Can you supply us with are detailed list, descriptions of the agents, and a good map?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
Map? Of the Mwangi Expanse? Good luck with that, Osprey replies gruffly. Don't know the names of anyone but Wyrn with the group, sorry.
Hmm, Osprey thinks a moment before answering San Xiao. We think they might be linked to one of the demon lords and infused with that lord's essence. Nasty business. And a source of power that the Aspis must not have. After a pause, he remarks, That rickshaw of yours might've been better off staying outside. Probably can't send that along with you on this trip.
He pulls a small, rumpled bit of parchment from the folds of his robe. Ready to go? Then follow me. Osprey pulls a lamp handle on the wall and a narrow door cracks open silently behind him. He leads you through to a moldering flight of rickety stairs that empty into a dank cellar. Ever teleported before? It's unpleasantly like being drunk. What's so unpleasant about being drunk, you ask? Go ask a glass of water...
A bright blue light flashes all about you and, with a haze of crackling pops, your senses are assaulted by a mass of hot, sticky air that reeks of mildew and soil. Canopied beneath an oversized tent, sheet after sheet of rain hammers against the thick canvas like flapping wings of a huge beast. About the floor, drops plink into various buckets and additional canvases lie draped over shipping crates and other supplies in a vain attempt to keep them dry. Indeed, the rain has soaked through the tent despite all efforts, and the dirt floor beneath you has been transformed into a muddy soup — one crawling with roaches.
Perched on a nearby crate is a young man who cracks a wide smile at your arrival. He opens his mouth to speak but his words are barely audible above the din.
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"Hail and well met. I am Bishop, a ranger from Andoren. This is my best friend Timber. The translator here is Jarvis. The flora and fauna here are different, and it's been a long time since I've been to the jungle. I don't speak the language here, and neither does Jarvis. Will you be joining us?" Bishop looks about and at his partymates. "Do any of you know Polyglot?"
The ranger fingers his bow a little bit. "I'm a very skilled trackers, and I don't worry about the food issue. I can show you how to avoid the worst of the heat."
What's the weather look like for the next 24 hours? (I can take 10 and not fail.)
Weather forecast is rain.
Then, more rain.
Afterward, some more rain is probable.
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Kalendir sits through the introductions quietly behind his thick mask. The mask creates a vortex leading to a single eyelet slit. These Demon Stones should not be in anyone's hands. The Society must destroy them! If a Demon Lord controls them then that can mean no good for this realm.
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Meeting the man on the crate Kalendir introduces himself as he checks his bow.
I am Kalendir. My bow is at your disposal.
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Halbarad made a SIZABLE fuss with Valsin about the mission. He'd just come off saving a VC's ass in Sothis after collecting the rotting concubines of an ageless necromancer all over Avistan. But he eventually shut his mouth when Valsin pointed out that the Lodge was short staffed after the attack last week. At the gate, he strongly considered having his squire do the errands in his stead, but decided Th'reiwa-don could use a ride anyway.
If Hal is uncomfortable in the wet heat, he doesn't show it--he's too busy introducing himself. "Hail, Dirch. I am Pasha Halbarad, the Trade Prince of Arbor, Slayer of Aralantryx, Captor of the Spider, Savior of Azlant Ridge, Defender of Nesting Swallow, Bane of Tyruwat, Shield of Sothis. Well met." His ornate elven armor gleams in the rain while his axe beak preens irritably. "What news have you?"
Dirch nods to Bishop, Halbarad, and Kalendir.
Dirch notes that none of the five Pathfinders stationed here are trained to do much more than hunt, forage, and make maps. He proudly shows you what they've mapped of the area, which immediately brings their cartography skills into question.
He explains this locale is a waystation for Pathfinders exploring the region, offering a bit of food and emergency first aid (tourniquets, bandages, and the like). He was the primary contact for Eiastor Wyrn until a couple of weeks ago; the Consortium group he had joined passed by approximately a month before, heading into the adjoining sacred lands of the Rumawa tribe. Last he heard, the group had made camp just upstream of the sacred lands, though no news that they've returned through the Rumawa territory has come.
Bishop knows that the jungle itself is hot and humid; even under the dense canopy of trees and growth (which often produce low-light conditions), temperatures can rise to 90° F, or higher in direct sunlight. Travel at night is more comfortable, but more difficult to see. Also, rain hits practically daily around midday, which "cools" the jungle for a short time, but also causes thick mists to rise about waist high for up to a half-hour. Inside the mists all vision (including darkvision) is obscured beyond 5 feet.
Dirch says.
The Rumawa tribe of the Mwangi Expanse living near the Drowning Stones. They are crocodile totemists, and scar their skin in an attempt to resemble crocodile scales.
The Rumawa expect visitors to their territory to sacrifice game animals to their totem; failure to do so is likely to lead to violence.
They believe that the Drowning Stones caused their ancestors to commit suicide, and do not approach the ruins.
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"I'm not worried about the heat, or the dark. There's likely prefers dark to heat though. We'll line up with whatever you guys want. If it's day time I'll beseech Erastil for a spell to protect Timber from the heat."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Level 1:
Endure Elements
Entangle
Speak with Animals
Level 1:
Badger's Ferocity
Eagle Eye
Level 3:
Neutralize Poison
Noting now.
-Posted with Wayfinder
When you're ready to set out, which route will you take: use the rafts, or make your way through the jungle?
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"Between Halbarad and myself, we could navigate the 9 Hells if need be. Still, the raft seems the easier plan based on our collective skills."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Still, progress is more important than planning. I am confident in us no matter the plan. The Rangers will lead through the jungle.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"I would prefer taking a boat. I am still wearing my city shoes, after all."
Before the party sets out, San Xiao uses his boro beads to reprepare his false life extract for the monk and the paladin, remarking that they look quite frail and inexperienced. Also, he hands each an extract of shield.
Edit: And Heroism. So that's Heroism, Shield, and False Life to the monk and the paladin. Use them wisely.
Your group stays at the waystation for the next few hours, during which the rain slows and stops and you are treated to roasted bananas and gazelle jerky. In the humid haze of late afternoon, Dirch guides the party to the shallow river nearby and you set out.
Travel is slow along the slow-moving river with the push rafts; Bishop reckons that the pace is approximately a mile each hour up the twisting, reedy stream. The setting sun still makes the region quite steamy, but not so much as to be hazardous.
Night falls quickly in the Mwangi; even under the curtain of stars overhead, it's still difficult to see . You trek along for another couple of hours (six total since leaving the waystation) and put in to shore for the night.