In Act IV, Interlude Part 1, the journey of Nheb and Ulf from Kallas Lake to Katheer (while Bash, Dabwick, Grip, and Pandora slept) was revealed:
9 Abadius
On the 9th of Abadius, Nheb sat by a fire on the edge of a Boggard encampment, in the Murkfen, a hideous swamp on the southern edge of the Hymbrian Forest. The land was technically in Galt, but ever since the start of the Red Revolution this dangerous territory had been re-claimed by the Toadfolk. And they didn’t take kindly to outsiders. Unless those outsiders were outsiders themselves, and they came bearing healing magic to offer in trade for their lives.
It had been rough travel for Nheb and Ulf since the Night of the Pale. They’d needed to get around Kallas Lake, but without a boat there wasn’t an easy way to do that. It took nearly a full day to find the right timing to get across the north branch of the Sellen. Nheb could manage the crossing with flight, but Ulf had to swim it. And there was a ton of traffic on the water. And Nheb didn’t want to risk an encounter with misguided riverfolk.
Then they had to skirt around the town of Shimmerford entirely because it gave off a way too backwoodsy, isolationist vibe. Then there had been the crossing of the East Sellen, which went about the same. And they’d stayed out of Riverton entirely… for reasons.
Then Ulf led them into the Hymbrian Forest. Eighty miles of rough hiking. And then through the fens. Day after day of muck and murk. And day after day of silence.
Nheb would ask, “Where do we go?”
And the Giant Flea would stand on his hind legs, wave his claws, and twitch his mouthparts. But all he’d say was, “FOLLOW.”
“Yes, follow. But follow where? Why? To what end? At some point, we must know, yes? We must see the path, yes?”
“FOLLOW.”
Day after day of this.
So now, this night, while nibbling on the feast of grubs and insects the Boggards had prepared, Nheb stared into the fire.
Nheb has been walking for months. But Ulf never slows. Ulf leaps, lands, hums, waits just long enough for Nheb to see how small his steps are.
The Boggards say the Murkfen has no end. Nheb believes them now. If Nheb looks behind, the swamp looks back, the same as before. There is no behind anymore—only the next patch of drowning ground.
Nheb thought that south would mean safety. But south only means more walking, more ache, more rain in the fur.
“Ulf?” he asked aloud. “Are you awake?”
There was no response.
Ulf never sleeps, does he? Not really. Just stillness. Nheb envies that: stillness.
“I used to know how to be still. When I was young—before the war—Mother taught us to wait. To listen. The fields around Feldgrau had this hum, do you remember?
“No, of course not, you weren’t there.
“But it was everywhere. Bees, wind in the grass, the river. The world had a sound—a warm sound.
“Now the world just buzzes.
“Ulf… I follow you because if I stop… the silence catches up. And when it does, I can hear them again.”
My brothers. Bhern. The trenches.
Every night I tell myself: tomorrow, I’ll ask where we’re going. And every morning, Ulf tells Nheb: follow. And Nheb does. But—
“I just— I just need to know, Ulf…
“Is Nheb leading Ulf? Or is Nheb The Thing That Is Led?
“The way home… it never stops moving farther away. And Nheb is tired, Ulf. So tired…”
And as those words died in the air, along with the dying of the fire, the Giant Flea sidled up to Nheb and whispered in his ear.
Secrets. Secret magic.
And now… the witch knew how to Teleport.
This would make the journey SO much easier.
14 Abadius
The first few days after the Murkfen had been pretty exhilarating. Nheb would walk all day, across the grasslands of Galt, and then just before the sun fell, he would find a spot at the edge of his sightline and BAMPF, he’d teleport another three or four miles, whatever his visibility would allow.
After a few days of this, he’d covered over 60 miles, and then—before he even reached the Stormflood River—he could just make out the cloud-covered Fog Peaks over fifty miles away. Then BAMPF, he was suddenly there.
But what a swamp-dwelling Ratfolk who’d never left Ustalav before a few months earlier couldn’t imagine was altitude sickness. And he’d just jumped instantaneously from the flatlands to one of the taller mountain ranges in the world. And because that was the only Teleport he’d had that day, he was stuck.
The next few days were awful. Nheb knew many ways to make people sick, but not how to help people recover from sickness. And even though he could prepare a second Teleport each day, he could barely find the opportunity to use them. Weather and clouds kept his visibility mostly limited to other places just as barren and awful as where he’d been stuck. He’d popped around a little bit, battling Winter Wolves and avoiding Ettins, until he stumbled into an ancient, ruined Frost Giant city.
And now Nheb was freezing almost to death in the icy winds that shrieked through Thrylheim, the one-time home of the great Frost King Virtosk. Nheb glared into his fire, shivering and sick, staring across the flames into the eyes of Ulf.
“Ulf? I think the air here hates Nheb. It doesn’t bite, it burns. I tried to swallow. It’s like drinking knives.” A coughing fit overtakes him.
“You told Nheb to follow, and I did. I walked through the sky itself, making leaps through the emptiness, and now Nheb is here. On top of the world. Or maybe under it?” A bitter laugh escaped Nheb’s lips. “There’s no difference anymore! The wind goes both ways!” The witch cackled maniacally into the night.
“South. Always south. You never look back, do you, Ulf? You never even slow. When I stop, you wait just long enough to shame me. Then the hum begins again—the one that makes my fur stand and my feet move. Like I’m a puppet strung to your rhythm.
“Do you remember warmth, Ulf? The cold doesn’t cling to you. It loves Ulf.
The Giant Flea said nothing.
“Nheb freezes, Nheb bleeds, Nheb starves, and you don’t care!”
The Giant Flea said nothing.
“Was this the plan all along? Drag Nheb through every place that would rather kill me than keep me?
The Giant Flea said nothing.
“What’s south, Ulf? Another mountain? Some god? Or are you just running from the same thing I am?” Another terrible coughing fit wracked his body. When it finally passed, Nheb said, “Nheb shouldn’t talk like that. But Ulf doesn’t answer, and Nheb is so tired.
“If the next step is another cliff, Nheb might just stay here. Let the wind finish him.”
The Giant Flea finally stirred. “FOLLOW.”
“Always that word,” Nheb said. “But if following means dying, Ulf may have to carry what’s left of us.
“And for what?”
And as those words died in the air, the Giant Flea sidled up to Nheb and whispered in his ear.
Secrets. Secret magic. It’s not only the Winter Wolves that can freeze their foes. New magic. New secrets lie down the path we walk. But only if you…
“FOLLOW.”
24 Abadius
Five days later, Nheb was over three hundred miles further south. He’d gotten a break one morning, in the cloud cover and the weather, and got a two-hundred-mile view across the northern Tandak Plains. He was able to see all of the Brokenbridge River as it spilled out of the Fog Peaks and across the plains, to join eventually with the Verduran Fork of the Sellen River. And he was also even able to see the glimmer of the much more distant Falling River, the other major tributary of the Verduran Fork. So there he went.
Ulf had kept pulling him south, south, south, toward the next mountain range he could see in the distance, but that range—the World’s Edge Mountains—were somehow even bigger than the previous ones, and Nheb was determined to be more careful this time. Shorter jumps. Not so high. Get higher in the foothills before leaping. Ulf will be impatient, but Ulf can just DEAL WITH IT.
Now, of course, Nheb didn’t know this part of the world. At all. And Nheb was avoiding most settlements, of course, since Ratfolk were barely welcome most places, and Giant Fleas weren’t welcome anywhere at all. So, since he didn’t know where he was going, and didn’t know what to avoid, Nheb stumbled blindly into the horrors of Nel-Shavotha, the so-called “Valley of the Azlanti.”
Nheb was attacked by Wights. They rose from the mass graves and swarmed the poor Ratfolk. He tried to teleport out of the melee, but lost both preparations of his spell to failures of concentration. The undead horrors tore into his flesh with their teeth, and before he could manage a retreat on foot, he was near-dead and wracked with multiple negative levels.
Ulf, on the other hand, had simply jumped away to safety.
“He’s going to look for help.”
That’s what Nheb had kept telling himself as he stumbled downhill. As he felt his body get even weaker, for he had also caught the bubonic plague that rode the winds of Nel-Shavotha. His Ratfolk blood made him resilient against many diseases of the body, but his ancestry was of no help in that instance.
And now Nheb lay gasping and alone, near death, with no fire, no food, no familiar, and he stared into the night sky.
“Ulf…
“He went ahead again. Nheb knows. Ulf always goes ahead. But Ulf will come back. Ulf always comes back.”
Nheb coughed: an infected, wet sound.
“The air is wrong here. So many graves. They whisper when the wind cuts through the ribs. Nheb tried to flee. But they pulled Nheb down. So many hands. Cold, greedy. They don’t want life, Ulf. They just want company. And I… I’m such good company!”
Nheb was overtaken by a short barking laugh that devolved into a ragged jag of coughs.
“They bit Nheb. They took something out. Nheb can feel it missing. Like a forgotten dream.
“You didn’t stay, Ulf.
“Does Nheb not deserve help? Ulf gives Nheb power—fire, frost, flight—but never mercy! You feed Nheb magic like crumbs to a dying rat, and then vanish when the wolves come?
“What is Nheb supposed to follow now? The wind? The rot? The empty buzzing inside my ribs? Is that you? No. No, that’s inside. That’s me. Maybe I’m dying. Maybe this is how dying sounds: like a friend leaving the room.”
Nheb sat in the silence for a good long while.
“If Nheb dies here, will Ulf find another? Another ear to whisper dreams to? Tell me, Ulf, do you love the ones who follow, or only the following itself?
“Please… please come back. I’m cold. And it’s so loud inside my head.
“No more south. No more mountains. If following means leaving, then I—then I will wait. Right here. Until you remember me.”
Nheb’s breathing grew shallow as, at the edge of his hearing, a series of faint overlapping whispers rose again from the broken lands around him. “Follow… Follow… Follow…”
“They’re all saying it now,” Nheb whispered. “Every grave. Every bone. Follow…
“It’s beautiful, Ulf. It’s—” Nheb’s voice cut off as he could no longer cling to consciousness.
26 Abadius
Nheb knew that if he didn’t get help, he would die. He somehow managed to find the strength to stumble further downhill, half-delirious and alone.
28 Abadius
On the 28th of Abadius, Nheb found himself lying in the barn of a kindly dwarven family outside of Maheto. They took him in, despite the danger to themselves, and they’d been tending to him as best they could.
The Ratfolk lay in the hay and whispered to himself. “It smells like old summer up here. Sweet rot. Warm dust. Every stalk of hay, a shaft of sunlight. The dwarves stack it high to keep their beasts warm, and the beasts breathe moisture into the air, and their breath feeds the hay’s slow crumble. Everything feeding everything.
“That’s the System.
“Where is Ulf?
“Always that question, isn’t it? I wake and look for the glint of his shell, listen for the hum at the edge of hearing, but there’s nothing. Only the sound of rain on the roof, and the smell of straw and iron.
“The dwarves. They found me on the road, half a corpse, half a fool. They could have left me there. But instead…
“They carried me home.
“Bandaged me. Fed me. Told me to rest. No bargains. No follow. Just warmth.
“It reminds me of them. The ones who could have killed me. I was a monster to them, yet still… they listened.
“What do we owe each other, Ulf?
“You gave me power, but these strangers gave me mercy. Which is worth more? Which costs more?
“Maybe the difference doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s all the same exchange—power, mercy, rot, growth—everything feeding everything. The dwarves’ bread will grow mold, the mold will feed the mice, the mice will feed the hawks, the hawks will fall, and the earth will eat them too.
“That’s the System. The only kindness the world understands.
“So if I die here, the hay will keep me warm a little longer, and then the worms will keep something else alive.
“And maybe that’s enough.”
3 Calistril
On the 3rd of Calistril, Nheb was standing at the top of the World’s Edge Mountains, on one of the public viewing balconies in the Dwarven Sky Citadel of Kravenkus.
It had taken many days for Nheb to heal and recover. But thanks to the help of that Dwarven family in Maheto, he did recover. And in conversations with the family’s matriarch, Nheb learned of Kravenkus. It had once been a mighty power in the region, but it fell long ago, and was now barely better than a ghost town. But there were still Dwarves living in it. And there were wonders from the old days still being guarded and protected up there: an old magical forge, some temple to some Dwarf-god Nheb had never heard of, and an old library that the Dwarves of old were unable to take with them when they fled the Orcs long ago. It had been so cunningly hidden that the Orcs never found it, and when Dwarves of the modern era moved in to preserve this ancient treasure of Dwarven architecture, they’d found it.
And within it, Nheb had learned, there was a famous Map Room.
Now, Nheb knew nothing of Golarion’s geography. And the thought of being able to pore over maps to see if he could figure out where Ulf had been leading him was a tempting one. The old Granny Dwarf had kin up in Kravenkus, and sent him up there with a letter. He’d had to scale the peak, since he could no longer prepare spells without Ulf by his side.
And Nheb devoured the contents of that map room. He’d had no conception of how large the world was, or of how little of it he had seen—even after his months of constant travel!
And it was then that Ulf finally reappeared. On this balcony. And “master” and familiar had their first conversation since Ulf had disappeared nearly two weeks earlier.
“Where has Ulf been?”
“COME.”
“Where did Ulf go?”
“FOLLOW.”
“Nheb almost died!”
“FOLLOW.”
“You left Nheb behind! And for what?”
And then, for the first time in ages, the Giant Flea said something new:
“ALL THINGS DIE.”
“Yes, Nheb knows. Nheb knows well…”
“EVEN YOU.”
A chilly silence fell between them. A tear welled up in Nheb’s eye, but before he could speak again, the Flea continued. It stood up on its rearmost legs and revealed the blotch on its underside. Nheb didn’t know what it meant, but others did.
“THE LIVING STUMBLE, BLIND AND ALONE AND USELESS. USELESS UNTIL THEY FALL. BUT WHEN THEY FALL, THEY BECOME SO MUCH MORE. THEY FIND THEIR PURPOSE. THEY LIVE AGAIN, FOR THEY FEED THE CYCLE. THEY ARE CONSUMED. THEY ARE EXCRETED. AND IT IS FINALLY AS EXCREMENT THAT LIFE TRULY HAS VALUE.
“LIFE ENDS. BUT THE CYCLE PERSISTS. IT IS INEVITABLE. LIFE MUST END FOR THE CYCLE TO CONTINUE.
“ALL THINGS FEED THE SOIL. EVEN THOSE WHO THINK THEMSELVES APART. EVEN THOSE WHO BEG FOR THE RAIN TO HIDE BENEATH ITS MERCY. BUT THE RAIN CHOOSES NO ONE. IT DEVOURS, AND THEN IT PASSES.”
“Nheb knows the sound of passing things.”
“THEN YOU KNOW THE CYCLE.”
“Nheb knows.”
“NHEB SEES.”
“Nheb sees.”
“THEN FOLLOW.”
“Nheb must know. Tell Nheb where we travel!”
The silence between them was pregnant for nearly a minute, but Nheb never broke eye contact with Ulf.
Finally:
“HOME.”
“What home? Nheb has had many: a hole in the dirt, a hand-me-down bed, the shadow of a dying tree.”
“YOU HAVE NEVER KNOWN HOME.”
“Maybe home is where Nheb stops running? Maybe home is the place where Nheb stops fearing what waits in the dark.”
“HOME IS THE DARK.”
“Then your ‘home’ is an ending. Nheb’s is where the sun finds him and he does not flinch.”
“SUNS DIE, TOO.”
Now, Nheb had been studying the maps. Ulf was pulling them south or southeast their entire journey. And that had still been their direction when they were last together. Nheb scoured the maps for what lay southeast of here, and brief: there was NOTHING. An absolute cataclysm-scorched wasteland almost entirely devoid of life—or even, really, features—for over two thousand miles. It was possible Ulf might have been heading somewhere in the Empire of Kelesh or the subcontinent of Vudra—all the way ACROSS the wastelands. But it was also possible Ulf was heading somewhere inside the wastelands. There was no way (yet) to be certain.
But either way:
“Nheb can’t simply walk where you are leading. Nheb needs to prepare.”
“COME.”
“No.”
“COME.”
“NO. Nheb will travel the way Nheb must travel.”
“FOLLOW.”
Nheb had learned about the Golden Path, the long road voyagers and merchants had been using since time immemorial to travel from Qadira, through the Kelish Empire, and on to the furthest reaches of Vudra. Until he could better triangulate where Ulf was taking them, Nheb knew he must stay on the Path in order to survive.
All things die, yes. But not necessarily today.
“Today, Nheb will lead. And Ulf will follow. Now: FOLLOW.”
And the Giant Flea did follow. Pulling southeast, but allowing Nheb to stay closer to civilization for the time being.
They made their way through the World’s Edge Mountains, through Pergamon Pass, and out to the River Porthmos. They followed it downstream, and soon Nheb crossed the river and headed out onto the Lingian Plains. They ran afoul of some bandits and Nheb succumbed to some Black Adder venom on a poisoned bolt. Witch and familiar made short work of that crew, but Nheb lost some time in recovery.
And the days passed.
11 Pharast
By the 11th of Pharast, Nheb had passed through the Border Woods, crossed the Jalrune River and he and Ulf were out onto the Plains of Paresh. They had left Taldor behind. They were now in Qadira, the westernmost satrapy of the Padishah Empire of Kelish.
18 Pharast
By the 18th of Pharast, Nheb reached the outskirts of the fabled city of Katheer.
And, for the first time ever, Ulf did not say “COME” or “FOLLOW.” For once, Ulf paused. Seemingly intrigued by the mighty city, the Giant Flea stared at its walls and would not budge. And for once, Ulf seemed content to let Nheb explore. To actually rest for a bit. Seeing all manner of beings coming and going from the gates of the great city, the greatest city Nheb had ever seen, Nheb entered.
And it was a city of wonders, a city of such size and such an otherworldly collection of people and things, and such a city of welcome and hospitality that no one even batted an eye at the sight of a Ratfolk walking its streets. Nheb even found a cluster of his own kind burrowing beneath the slums near the eastern gate who were perfectly comfortable with him nesting with them for a few days. And they didn’t even mind the idea of a Giant Flea!
“Ulf must come, too! Ulf must see! Come see!”
And Ulf did come. Ulf did see. And it took some magic from time to time to move Ulf around in the city. A Blend spell now and again. Occasionally an Alter Self when necessary. Nheb took such delight in turning Ulf into a Halfling, just like those sailors he’d met so many months ago. Ulf made for the angriest little Halfling Golarion had ever seen. But usually, whenever possible, Ulf just bounded from rooftop to rooftop and followed Nheb from above. And sometimes even they parted ways for an hour or two to make their own explorations.
It was just the breather Nheb needed.
23 Pharast
Finally, in the late morning of the 23rd of Pharast, Stazi, Tharivol, and Stanhope reached Katheer.
The Venture docked in the Port, and the Inquisitor, the Cleric, and the Swashbuckler were herded into the Visitor’s Center, where they were made to register. And when they stepped out into the Great Market to get their bearings and some directions, who should be munching on a lunch of delicious fried street-meat nearby, but Nheb.
Nheb saw the angry, foolish reckless one that hurt him so badly. But he also saw the quiet one—one of the healers from the ship. How could this be? Nheb wondered to himself. It seemed almost unbelievable. Is it really them? Why are they here?
Nheb watched the trio finish talking to a local and then they marched off to the west. Oh, well. How weird.
Nheb was just about to head back east to the warren they’d been staying in when he felt the tug of excitement from Ulf. Ulf had spotted something, and Nheb saw Ulf bounding across the rooftops to the north. By this point, Nheb could imagine the Flea’s command: “FOLLOW.”
Nheb followed.
But who was this strange woman Ulf seemed to be pursuing? Nheb did not recognize her, especially from behind. So tall. Such tall… hair? It was hard to tell exactly what was going on under all the scarves and silks. And she had such an odd manner of walking. It seemed perfectly normal if one paid it no mind, but perfectly weird if one actually watched it. It was almost like she was pretending to walk like a person.
Does Ulf know her?
But as Nheb had been trained to do, Nheb followed. Up to the north, and then he saw the Giant Flea leap over the entire street and start racing along the rooftops of a warren of alleyways to the west. Nheb lost sight of the woman, but not of Ulf. Twists and turns, and soon they were out on another major street, heading south now. But still no sight of the woman. Ulf wanted to join Nheb out on the street. He’d lost sight of her, too. This meant a spell: Alter Self. Ulf became a Halfling.
South, they headed. South and south. And soon they encountered a disturbance on the street. Militant-looking men with long sticks were gathered around a frightened old man with a white beard and metal armor. They stood before a building covered in angels.
And there they were… the others again.
And this time they saw Nheb.
A Nexus.
It’s just like I said, Nheb thought. I’ll be watching you! And you’ll be watching us!
Stazi remembered the final assessment from the other party: “That rat’s all right.” So they enlisted some arcane firepower.
They all entered the Mysterium together. All but the weird, angry little Halfling. Ulf wouldn’t follow. But that was all right. This’ll only take an hour or so, Nheb thought. And Ulf and Nheb had been up to their own things periodically the past several days.
No big deal.
Shortly after they entered, there was the sound of a bell. Not the bell at the Shrine of Thaffar, so far away, but the bell atop the Mysterium’s pyramid.
Tolling to announce the triggering of the wards.
And at that EXACT moment, nearly 500 miles away, Dabwick woke up in their flat.
First Reference: Act IV Interlude Part 1
Other Notable References: —