Rather than risk an unfortunate encounter with a Grey Gardener or revolutionary mob, Cladissa and Gianluca stick to deserted paths and old empty roads. When it's time to bed down for the night, she effortlessly climbs into some trees and weaves a tent-sized hammock in the upper boughs.
When Argor scries upon her, he sees her in lying comfortably in an intricate web high in the treetops.
When Argor, Grommesson and Thrassk appear, she jumps and claps to see her old friend. "It's me! Hi, Thrassk!"
Thrassk grins. "It isss good to sssee you again. That mussst make thisss lovely...lady?...Gianluca." He offers Gianluca a respectful bow.
Cladissa snickers at Thrassk's confusion over Gianluca's gender. Though she was sure the Arshean wouldn't be offended, and would probably appreciate being called lovely.
"Wow, Thrassk, you've certainly continued to look more like a dragon. Nice wings. I had wings for a time, but I lost them."
Her long delicate spider legs unfold and lift her off the ground. "I have these now." She gestures up into the treetops where a large intricate spiderweb stretches across several limbs. "And I can do that. Not bad work, if I do say so myself."
"Amazing! You are correct. My draconic heritage ssseems to have hijacked the sssserum. I have a sssmall amount of magic, but mainly I am ssskilled in ripping and rending. Ssso, Argor informsss me we are to travel to Woodsssage? Isss that town near here?"
Cladissa nods in the affirmative. "Yes, we avoided most people after the first day. The people of Galt are not very trusting of outsiders. We decided it best to stay clear of the locals."
She looks at their surroundings. "This glen was pleasant enough, and close to our destination. I estimate it will take only a couple of hours walking."
"Perhapsss I ssshould fly overhead then. I don't want my appearance to alarm any of the localsss."
Cladissa looks uncertain. "Well, you look like a gold dragon, and they're generally good. But flying? You may alarm them if you're spotted. I was going to suggest we stay off the roads and stick to just inside the treeline. We may come upon some bandits that way, but I believe we can deal with common brigands."
She looks at the others. "What do you think?"
”She is right,” Argor agrees. ”Despite appearing a dragon, your golden sheen likely will illicit awe rather than fear, more times than not. Either way, we should wait until tomorrow to arrive, to allow my arcane energies to replenish.”
Thrassk shrugs in acquiescence.
The group makes camp in the woods without incident. They are able to pass the night in peace. The next day dawns cold and clear. A far cry from the constant muggy heat of Absalom.
Cladissa's network of webs around the camp provided an early warning system. Cole uses his prestidigitation to clean anyone interested in getting rid of the dirt and forest grime.
Feeling refreshed, Cladissa waits patiently while Argor prepares his spells in the morning.
"Ready?" she asks. She climbs up into the tops of the trees to make sure the way to Woodsedge is clear.
Argor completes his preparations, then says ”I have prepared my spells in anticipation of making personal enhancements prior to an endeavor, just in case we are able to take the time to make said preparations. It should not lessen my ability to thwart opposition, however, should we be ambushed in any capacity.”
Thrassk looks a bit confused at what Argor said, but he nods to Cladissa. "I am ready."
Despite the worries of the Decemvirate, the trip to the Galtan town of Woodsedge sees few dangers, and the Freaks reach their destination without ever having to draw their weapons. The whole nation of Galt remains in the thrall of a bloody revolution, and while signs of desperation, poverty, and even violence abound, none of it has prevented them from completing their mission. The Pale Maiden remains safe, and the team has successfully completed their first direct task for the secretive inner circle of the Pathfinder Society.
Sooner than expected, they find themselves standing on the outer stair of the Woodsedge Lodge. Situated on immense grounds just outside the town proper, the luxurious manor house is marred by cracked plaster, missing windows, and rotting shingles, but a well-groomed topiary hints at a building coming back from a near-death encounter with Revolution and abandonment. The huge doors of the Woodsedge Lodge open with a slow creak. A tall, bulky figure takes form in the gloom within, emerging into the sunlight with a gap-toothed smile and a bushy blond beard. It’s their old venture-captain from Absalom, Adril Hestram!
The huge man chuckles with a belly laugh at the sight of the Freaks. "I was wondering who they would send! The Ten choose wisely, of course! You did receive your orders to come here from the Decemvirate themselves, didn’t you? The servants are clucking that you bear the Pale Maiden. Is it true? May I wield the blade?" He looks eagerly to see who might be carrying the Pale Maiden.
Argor smiles and bows his head politely toward Hestram. ”If such a thing were within the parameters for us to allow, Venture-Captain, Alas, it is not. Tell me, do you know the location of Venture-Captain Eliza Petulengro? We are under strict instruction.”
"Oh, aye, she's inside. I've only just arrived myself on direct orders bearing the seal of the Decemvirate! Eliza and some lil guy named Osprey are here, they've been waiting on us. Rumor says this Osprey fella is the hand of the Ten. It's all very exciting, ain't it?"
"They won’t say why we’ve all been called here," Adril says, "but it’s obvious the Pale Maiden is just a cover story. I’ve been...studying up on the Ten. I think I’m about to be promoted into their ranks. It was only a matter of time. My guess is that you’re here to represent my efforts as a Venture Captain. I’ve no doubt you’ll make a very convincing argument for my promotion," he confides.
"Things will change between us if this happens. You’ve always been honest, dependable agents for me, so I’m telling you while I still can. After it happens, we will all be sworn to utter secrecy, for the identities of the Ten are the most treasured secrets of the Pathfinder Society. For now, though, I want you to know that I trust you implicitly, and I hope that you trust me."
"Once I have been made one of the Ten, even if we can no longer discuss it openly, I want you to know that I will always do what is right by you." He smiles at the team. "Why don't we head in, and I'll introduce you to Eliza."
Cladissa had cast mage armor on herself shortly after setting out for the Lodge. Once Woodsedge was in view, she brings up see invisibility.
She surveys the damaged building as they approach, her mind full of mixed emotions -- not the least of which being her trepidation at potentially encountering Auronee. She brings herself to smile when she sees Hestram on the stairs outside the Lodge.
"That's great news if it's true. You know you'll have our support even if we can't talk about it. Also, I can't wait to meet Venture-Captain Petulengro. I'm hopeful that the restoration of this Lodge can help restore some sanity to this country. It was my home once, long ago."
She accepts the invitation to go inside.
Thrassk grins. "It isss good to sssee you again. That mussst make thisss lovely...lady?...Gianluca." He offers Gianluca a respectful bow.
Gianluca curtsies and kisses the dragon's hand, but then lets the illusion drop.
"It's my pleasure to meet you, Thrassk. I look forward to combating evil and deceipt shoulder to shoulder with you."
"Thank you, Venture Captain, for your warm welcome. I pray the gods reward you justly for all have given to the Society."
Gianluca aims to maintain a casual air as he enters and looks about the room.
Adril Hestram leads everyone inside the Woodsedge Lodge. The filigreed front doors open into a spacious great room with an enormous fireplace against the opposite wall. Elegant upholstered chairs and couches scattered about the chamber present an inviting, luxurious atmosphere, as if the whole place had been designed for fashionable lounging.
A sweeping stair beside the fireplace leads to the balconies of the mansion’s second floor, which look down upon the room as if it were a stage. A scuffed and oddly stained red carpet runs down the center of the stair, showing that work yet remains to restore the Woodsedge Lodge to its former glory. Some elements, like the threadbare stuffed owlbear in one corner, hint more at the past than the future, but things are coming along.
Adril leads on to the west, through a fine wooden door and into a wood paneled corridor rich with the smell of fresh onions and simmering meat stew. The passage continues several feet to the north, with doors leading to chambers beyond. Adril bounds through the southernmost doors across the hall, leading into a richly appointed meeting room where two figures are seated at a huge oak table near several empty chairs obviously intended for the Freaks. Adril points to a male human garbed in crude leathers wearing a necklace of bird skulls.
"This here is Osprey," he says. "Honorable fellow, a friend to all and a Society man, tall and true. His keen eyes see much among the Pathfinders that others miss, and his counsel is unparalleled in our order."
Adril turns to the gorgeous red-haired woman sitting at the head of the table, her pale face a marble bust of confidence and control. "And this,” he says, his cheeks taking on a touch of red and his mouth curving into a lecherous grin, “is Venture-Captain Eliza Petulengro, the Lady of the Lodge.”
Eliza stands. "Hello, and welcome to my home." Her smile seems genuine. "I am very pleased that the Decemvirate has taken notice of my efforts to restore this Lodge to its former glory. Tales of your team's exploits have reached us even here in Galt. You must be..." she calls out each of the Freaks by name, offering each a nod. "Adril has had nothing but praise for his 'top team'. I too used to be stationed in the Grand Lodge, so he and I are old friends."
"Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, have you brought The Pale Maiden?"
”Greetings, Venture-Captain. You as well Lord Osprey. I appreciate Adril’s Kind words, but do not let his boasting mislead you,” Argor says with a cordial smile towards Adril, ”we have worked for several Venture-Captain’s in our time. He doesn’t have an exclusive contract to our services,” he adds with a chuckle.
He then turns and gestures to Gianluca or Grommesson to present the blade. A small, demure cough draws Argor’s eye. His eyes widen and he adds, ”My, I’ve entirely went bereft of my etiquette. Adril, Eliza, may I have the honor of presenting Adrenia. She has replaced my prior familiar and fulfills those tasks, much to my appreciation. However, I am still growing accustomed to a colleague in that capacity that is visible and present at all times.”
Adrenia curtsies, stretching her wings slightly as she does, letting one playfully bump Argor. ”Greetings, m’Lord and m’Lady. I am pleased to be here.”
Cladissa's extra legs taste the air of the Woodsedge Lodge as her eyes take in the sights. Cole slinks along behind her, straying here and there as a cat does.
She curtsies lightly during the introductions. She studies Eliza as she addresses her. "Thank you for the welcome, and thank you even more for restoring this Lodge to its former glory. Perhaps we can talk later about what we can do for the people of Galt. I would hope they've had enough of chaos and would be ready for lasting peace."
Grommesson had magically altered his outfit to courtier clothing for the audience with the Venture-Captain. He politely bows at his introduction and stays silent among his icons.
Eliza takes the sword case from Gianluca, opening it to confirm its contents. Her eyes light up as she sees the blade, and she removes it with great reverence.
“You have my most sincere thanks for safely delivering the Pale Maiden to me," Eliza says with a proud smile. “One of my servants will bring it to the lodge’s armory, where it will be kept safe to honor the responsibility granted to me by the Decemvirate."
As she speaks, several human servants wearing elaborate dresses and fashionable suits bustle in and out of the kitchen through the north doors, delivering delicate flutes of bubbling wine, plates of fresh fruits, and platters of manicured finger foods. Each of the servants wears a featureless white porcelain mask, obscuring his or her face completely. Each servant also wears a thin red ribbon around the neck. Eliza catches one of the Freaks looking at the ribbon, and her face takes on a serious cast.
“The ribbons represent the guillotine. The Final Blades that sing the song of Revolution and cut the heads from patriots. Each of my servants has lost a beloved one to the Mob. They wear the masks for their own protection. They are safe here in the Lodge. I know their identities, but it is critical that the rabble and the Mob do not identify them as servants of the Society. We are still not fully trusted here, after all, and although the people will not strike out against me, they may very well snatch one of my servants on their return home from a day’s work. I’m sure you understand."
“My homeland of Galt has lost much in this endless Revolution, and even the streets are dangerous. You are lucky to have arrived here safely, but I am sure you could have handled yourselves had you run into trouble."
“Of course,” Eliza says, “You’ve figured out by now that delivering the Pale Maiden was merely a pretext to get you to the Woodsedge Lodge. You are here for something far more important than a courier mission. For tonight, the Lodge will be host to a Talespinning, one of the most important ceremonies known to the Pathfinder Society. And the guest of honor is Adril Hestram!” She smiles at the other Venture Captain, who is also beaming, a greedy look in his eyes.
"Osprey will explain the details of the ceremony when we reconvene in the Great Room in an hour. Until then, feel free to refresh yourselves. The servants will show you to your rooms, and you may have free run of the Lodge until we meet."
the ceremony. Unsurprising really, given the briefing Osprey gave you back in Absalom.
Cladissa nods at Eliza seriously. She had not made it a great secret that her father had lost his head to one of the awful Final Blades. Although she decides not to talk about it openly here, she makes a decision.
"May I-- may I wear a ribbon as well?"
She smiles sympathetically at the masked servants as they go about their duties, but she instinctively tastes their scent each time one gets close, and commits it to memory.
”A noble gesture, in a land intolerant of nobility,” Argor says with a bow of his head to Eliza.
Argor rises and follows the servants to their assigned quarters.
Thrassk takes a moment to eat some of the food before following the servants upstairs. "Pleasssure to meet you Captain Petrunlengo," he says to Eliza before leaving.
Eliza nods to Cladissa's request, motioning one of the servants to make it so.
When ready, masked servants lead the guests back through the Great Room, up the central stair, and to the bank of rooms along the west balcony. The Freaks are shown to three well-appointed rooms, each with a large bed and austere wallpaper featuring a flower motif.
One of the male servants says in a Galtan accent, "I ahm sorrie, but we only 'ave tree rooms. Some of you will 'ave to share."
As the group settles into their rooms, they spy Adril Hestram returning to his own chamber.
Eliza and Osprey retreat to Eliza’s chambers to prepare for the ceremony, while the staff (at least a dozen richly garbed, masked men and women) bustle about their business, dusting statues, preparing food, shining brass, or engaging in numerous other menial tasks aimed at enhancing an atmosphere of decadent luxury.
"Clearly Cladisssa ssshould have one of the rooomsss. I am willing to ssshare with any of you."
He chuckles. "I jussst noticed that three of usss have golden ssskin. How odd. Perhapsss we ssshould be known as the...Gold...sss" he finishes lamely.
Thank you," Cladissa tells the servant who provided her a ribbon, and she takes her hand briefly to give her a sympathetic squeeze. Then she ties the ribbon around her neck. She is quiet and reflective while eating.
Cladissa takes whatever room appears the smallest, since she'll only be sharing her room with Cole. She tests the bed briefly, then unpacks the pair of dresses she had brought along with her regular adventuring gear. She hangs them up to release the wrinkles and has Cole cast prestidigitation on them to get rid of the travel smells.
She rejoins the group just as Thrassk is making his observations about the coloration of most of the members. "Good point. The 'Golden Freaks.' Better than just Freaks, I think. Maybe during my next mutation I'll see about adding a golden hue to my skin," she says playfully. "Or maybe spin golden thread!"
”I think your current mutation is quite impressive,” Argor says as he returns from the room he had picked for himself and Grommesson. ”But, perhaps we should abandon the ‘Freak’ monicker from our company. It carries a certain negative weight. In our dealings with the city, we’ve done more than enough to shed any stigma our appearance could elicit. Perhaps, ‘The Golden Knights,’ or ‘The Heroes Of Aurum.’”
Cladissa finds herself blushing uncontrollably, unused to random compliments from the arcanist. Her spider legs twitch and she tugs at a lock of hair, twisting it around her finger. "You really think so? Th--thank you, Argor. That means a lot."
She doesn't comment on the other suggestions for the name of their group. She had begrudgingly grown used to their somewhat insulting moniker, and she feared trying to change it would be an exercise in futility.
"We have an hour. Let's explore." Cole mews in agreement and slinks off. Cladissa chooses to stay with the group rather than wandering too far from anyone.
She wonders inwardly about the wisdom of recreating an atmosphere of decadence within the Lodge. Wasn't at least part of the Red Revolution a repudiation of the worst excesses of the nobility? She made a mental note to talk with Eliza about it. If she proved trustworthy after all this.
"Yes. Lets." Argor joins along with Cladissa and the others as they get a lay of the land of this Lodge.
The Upper Halls connect the Great Room to the Guest
Rooms, Adril’s Room, Eliza’s Room, and the Servants’
Quarters. The corridors encircling the Great Room
on the east, north, and west look down upon the main
f loor of the Great Room. Beautiful fluted lanterns enchanted with continual flame
hang at intervals upon the water-damaged walls, casting
the Upper Halls in a rich, flickering light that nearly
masks the sooty stains in the carpet. Masked servants
bustle from room to room.
The large symbol etched into the stone of the Outer
Stair is the personal insignia of the Woodsedge Lodge.
It appears throughout the manor, in the tilework of the
Great Room, on the table in the Conference Room, and even worked into the wallpaper of several chambers and
the embroidery of the Guest Room bedspreads.
Several planters situated upon the outer stair bear the
prickly stems and sanguine petals of beautiful bloodred roses. Argor recognizes them as Narven’s Tears, a breed of rose unique to
the Arthfell Forest thought to have gone extinct
200 years ago. The bushes here were made
from cuttings of the hedges of the Maze of the
Open Road, on the manor’s rear lawn. Eliza keeps all windows shuttered from
the inside, to protect the activities
of the Woodsedge Lodge from the
prying eyes of the Mob.
This massive stone-floored
room serves as a foyer, gathering
chamber, common room, and
trophy hall for the Woodsedge
Lodge.
An enormous chandelier dangles above the room
from the ceiling 20 feet above. The east, north, and west
Upper Halls look down upon the Great Room from open
balconies. The huge staircase ascends to the Upper Halls
The ratty, apparently ancient stuffed owlbear in the
southeast corner is the once-famous Beaky III, favored
beast of Taldor’s Emperor Stavian I. Not even Eliza knows
how it came to reside in the Woodsedge Lodge, but here it’s
remained for decades. The double doors leading to the east
and west Lower Halls swing open easily in either direction.
The Lower Halls connect the Great Room to the
Conference Room, the Kitchen, the Battleground, the
Courtyard, the Armory, and the Library via unlocked
doors. Beautifully fluted lanterns enchanted with
continual flame hang at intervals upon the water-damaged
walls, casting the Lower Halls in a rich, flickering light
that nearly masks the sooty stains in the carpet. Masked
servants bustle from room to room.
Eight high-backed wooden chairs ring the immense
table here, which bears the insignia of the Woodsedge
Lodge. Maps spread out upon the table show detailed
looks at Galt and (surprisingly) the
far-f lung jungle colony Sargava.
Unlocked doors lead to the
Kitchen and the Lower Halls.
Delicious scents emerge from this
well-stocked kitchen at all hours of the
day and night. It is a haven for Eliza’s
servants, who spend a great deal of
time here.
This huge pantry contains ingredients considered
indulgent even in cosmopolitan Absalom. Eliza
Petulengro is clearly a woman with extremely refined
(and expensive) tastes.
These days, this quiet weapons training facility sees
little use. A portion of the floor can be made
to rise when the lantern against the southeast wall is
manipulated. The rising platform at the center of the
room eventually comes to a grinding halt, revealing an
inky secret passage descending to Galt’s Low Highway, a
major Darklands thoroughfare.
If some of the interior rooms have a way to go before
they have been fully restored to the lodge’s original
splendor, the Courtyard looks as though it has received
by far the majority of Eliza’s restoration efforts to date.
Meticulously manicured, the topiary bushes closely
resemble mythological beasts, while a placid reflecting
pool gives a pensive, almost meditative quality to the
walled garden. Unlocked doors lead to the Battleground,
the Lower Halls, and the Armory.
The Lodge's armory is well stocked with weapons and armor of all sorts. Including the recently delivered Pale Maiden, on display in a case at the center of the room.
The Revolutionary Mob heavily plundered the library
of the Woodsedge Lodge when the Pathfinder Society
formally abandoned it decades ago, and Eliza is only
beginning to restore the collection to its former glory.
She’s amassed plenty of historical documents and
maps, but the assembly has little direction at the moment,
and most of the truly valuable items are kept behind the
locked door of the Secret Library.
Thrassk oohs and awws over the various bits of finery. He seems particularly interested in the stuffed owlbear. When passing through the kitchen, he snatches some more snacks.
About an hour after the servants show the player characters to their rooms, Eliza, Osprey, and Adril Hestram make their way to the Great Room, where a squad of masked servants pass out long flutes of wine, selected Galtan cheeses, thin-cut venison, and poached axebeak eggs (which smell slightly of sulfur but taste delightful). The venture-captains mill about making light conversation with each other until everyone has finally arrived, at which point Osprey ascends the central stair to the Upper Halls, addressing everyone in the Great Room.
“Fellow agents of the Pathfinder Society,” says Osprey from the balcony overlooking the Great Room. “I deliver a message from the Decemvirate. Long have the Ten observed the exploits of Venture-Captain Adril Hestram. Time and again he has served the Society well, from his own adventures in the Mwangi Expanse to the many activities conducted by agents under his guidance.”
Osprey’s scratchy voice pauses for a moment and he leers out at you. His high brow casts his dark eyes in shadow, giving him an ominous visage. He gestures to you and your companions.
“That is where you come in. For tonight we celebrate the Talespinning Ceremony, and our ritual begins with each of you standing where I stand and regaling us with the story of your greatest victory as a field agent of the Pathfinder Society. We stand tonight to examine the achievements of Venture-Captain Adril Hestram, and your victories speak to his capabilities as a leader and his judgment in selecting the agents for his important missions for the Society. When we have heard from each of you, it will be Adril’s turn. After that, we shall know the way of things, and the way of the future for Adril Hestram, and perhaps also for all of you."
“Now,” he says, his mouth forming a crooked smile. “Who would like to go first?”
Cladissa marvels at the access point to the Low Highway. She studies the entrance and tests the air around it to see if any scent trails indicate it's been used recently.
At the library, she also checks the entrance to the locked portion, to see if it had similarly been in use.
Then she picks out a couple documents on Galtan history and peruses them near the meditative pool in the courtyard. She strings a few silk threads between a pair of topiary as a makeshift hammock and studies the documents until it's time for the ceremony.
As the group passes by the outer stair, Argor steps to one of the bushes. ”Narven’s Tears...” he mutters. ”A marvelous and impressive surprise...”
__________
Argor listens as the event is explained. ”Perhaps I should go last. Worked well for us before...” he says to the others.
" Okay, Argor, you can go last if you wish," Cladissa says after draining the last of her champagne.
She thinks for a moment, then stands and gracefully ascends the stairs to take Osprey's place at the balcony. She pauses while ordering her thoughts and studying the crowd, most of whom are in masks and ribbons. She unconsciously fingers the ribbon around her own neck, clears her throat, and begins.
"Um, there was this time we saved a museum from a bunch of monkeys. But it was more than that. Hestram brought us in, explaining that the Blakros Museum had become cursed by artifacts brought back from the Mwangi Expanse. What's more, a strange mist generated by the cursed objects was responsible for turning men in to stark raving beasts. The effect had filled the museum and was spilling into the streets.
"Argor, Grommuk, Hrimnagel, Nyugusk and I all took precautions not to breathe the mist before we entered the museum. We went from room to room, beset by exhibits given foul life by the strange curse, and fighting off the museum staff who had succumbed to the bestial influence."
Cladissa's eyes grow distant as she recounts the battles of that night, including the many times Grommuk nearly perished, but also his prowess as he defeated the Tik Taan idols' champion in a single blow.
She ends the tale by looking warmly at Hestram and saying, "If you hadn't sent us to that place, the madness would have spread into the streets of Absalom. Countless innocents would have been taken with that madness and caused innumerable deaths before its spread was stopped. Plus, it was the first of many deeds we performed that forged the alliance between the Society and the Blakros family." She spares a quick glance to Argor. "One that no doubt will continue to be strengthened in the days to come."
Cladissa marvels at the access point to the Low Highway. She studies the entrance and tests the air around it to see if any scent trails indicate it's been used recently.
[Dice=Survival]1d20+11At the library, she also checks the entrance to the locked portion, to see if it had similarly been in use.
[Dice=Survival]1d20+11Then she picks out a couple documents on Galtan history and peruses them near the meditative pool in the courtyard. She strings a few silk threads between a pair of topiary as a makeshift hammock and studies the documents until it's time for the ceremony.
Thrassk is next to mount the stairs of the Great Room after Cladissa. He takes a moment to think before he speaks.
"I have not had asss many great adventuresss asss the ressst of the Freaksss, but I remember the day that Captain Hessstram sssent usss into the mountainsss."
"The firssst foe we encountered proved our undoing. A ssswarm of vile hellwasssps. My clawsss and teeth did nothing to them. I wasss overcome with ssshame, and decided to sssacrifice myssself for the team. Nyugusssk, whossse honor wasss boundlessss, pulled me away from my own foolissshnesss. May hisss sssoul ressst easssy in the next life."
"We did not let our defeat ssstop usss. No! We rossse from the asshes like a vengeful phoenix. We sssought out the drow cultisssts in their mountain holesss and hunted them like ratsss. Not even their demonic massstersss could ssstand up to our might."
"Asss a reward we sssaw the mossst beautiful cavern covered in crystalsss, with a lake which reflected the light like a sssilver mirror. It wasss asss brief and magical as a ssspring blossssom, fading away before our eyesss. But the knowledge we found there might one day help everyone in the Sssociety and beyond. Thank you." Thrassk offers a shallow bow of the head before descending.
Grommesson enjoys the lodge like a museum. He pauses at the sooty stained carpet. He studies the servants with the masks to ensure that he can replicate them with his magic sleeves if it comes to it.
Grommesson is the next to ascend the stairs. "As Master Argor's apprentice, I've not had the honor to join the Pathfinders. However, a week or so, I witnessed Master Argor kill an monster black dragon with one spell. Then, they killed this evil demon, and Master Gianluca saved everyone by flying an artifact into the air before it exploded."
"They truly live up to the legend." Grommesson bows and descends.
Argor floats over to the speaking area, offering a bow of his head in thanks for the recognition from Grommesson. He then turns to those gathered to hear his tale.
"Ladies. Gentlemen. The story I am about to tell you is not of some grandiose victory where we easily handled the foes arrayed against us with little risk to ourselves. No. The chronicle I have to tell is of one where we nearly perished. Even so, it was a testament to our teamwork, and an innocent life was saved in the process."
"Drandle Dreng approached us about heading to the former grounds of the Tri-Towers Yard. Particularly in search of a particular ring, the ruby salamander ring of Horastian. Search for survivors was believed a fruitless effort, seeing as it had been ten years since the academy sunk into the roof of the underlying necropolis. Save for one. Lady Dacilane clung to hope that her daughter, Junia, might have found, against all odds, a way to survive all this time. All that remained of that hope was the faintest glimmer, like that of candlelight, but glimmer it did. And she tasked us, of all people, to do our best before that candle burnt out."
"Upon our arrival to the tomb-of-a-school, the caretaker was revealed to be a long-mad father of another of the students there. The haunts of the children and teacher's spirits tormented the man, drove him mad, so much so that he believed them real. He led us to the submerged entrance to the necropolis, and we made our way inside...and to the horrors within. Our first foes proved to nearly be our undoing. Allips. Incorporeal horrors hellbent on ravaging the minds of the living. We were ill-prepared to deal with the like of such creatures, and they managed to nearly slay me in the ensuing combat. We were forced to retreat and recover. Thanks to the kindness and steadfastness of my friends, most having moved on, but one remaining," Argor says as he casts an emotional look towards Cladissa, "my life was saved."
After a brief pause, he continues, "We returned, prepared, replenished, and most importantly, informed as to what horrors we might face. With newfound zeal we reentered the necropolis and dispatched the allips quickly. After delving further in, we found the deceased body of the caretaker, and shortly thereafter were beset upon by ghouls and ghasts. They too were dispatched from this realm."
"Now free to begin searching and cataloging the various historical remnants of the necropolis, we began looking through the various alcoves and sarcophagi. Most contained treasure troves that were turned over to the Society. But the most precious rewards of all was finding young Junia Dacilane, alive thanks to the preservative magics of the ring of Horastian. We immediately set out to reunite her with her mother. It caused a brief uproar and some further mourning on behalf of parents whose wounds were now reopened with false hope, but for the Dacilane family, we were able to change the world. Last I had heard, young Junia was recovering quite well from her tortures at the hands of the Allips, and is well on the road to a full recovery."
Argor raises his head, it having been somewhat looking downward the whole time as he recounted the events. His face is pale, as if the telling of the chronicle had physically and emotionally drained him.
"The return of a loved one to another...that is the proudest moment I have of my time in the Society."
Gianluca steps forward and smiles. "Like Grommesson and Thrassk, I joined this esteemed team of freaks late in their careers, and my own. That said, my first foray with the Golden Freaks was one of the most memorable in my life:
"In one day, we had to disable dominated clerics of Cayden Cailean with minimal damage, persuade their High Priestess, Saphira, that her temple had been compromised by a demon lord. We also experienced being sent via psychic projection into some demonic dream realm where a primordial demon tore me asunder with its tongue and tentacles...only to find that I yet lived in the realm of the flesh.
"That day--and my dream death--strengthened my vow to cleave to Arshea, and to seize every opportunity to pursue sensual pleasure and freedom from tyranny. I am pleased that my service to the Pathfinders has allowed me to learn, to grow, to serve...and most recently to make worthy new friends." He nods to Cladissa, Argor, Grommesson, and Thassk, and then steps back.
When the last of the Golden Freaks has finished recounting their victories, Osprey arises from a comfortable chair in the back corner of the room and clears his throat. “Assembled fellow Pathfinders,” he says. “You have represented yourselves well, and your victories reflect upon the leadership of your venture-captain leaders. Which brings us to the man of honor, Adril Hestram."
"Adril, will you please take your place on the balcony? I wonder, after hearing all of this, what you consider your greatest victory.” Osprey flashes a quick glance at Eliza Petulengro, who furrows her brow and looks to the floor. “And how that victory serves the greater good of the Pathfinder Society.”
Adril Hestram, beaming with pride, smiles a wide grin beneath his bushy beard as he bounds up the central stair to the balcony. As he looks at each of you in turn for a moment, the hulking warrior of a man releases a mirthful chuckle, as if considering a private joke. His bearclaw hands grasp the balcony’s railing as he addresses the group. “I have never stopped adventuring. From my year lost in the Mwangi Expanse a decade ago to my tenure as a venture-captain in Abaslom all the way through to today, I’ve kept looking for new challenges and opportunities in the face of danger that would melt the hearts of ordinary men. And in all that time, I’ve learned a simple lesson that I’d like to share with you today—”
What at first seems like a tiny tremor soon erupts into a jerking and heaving cataclysm that shakes the entire room. Adril falls silent, a look of dumb surprise erasing the arrogance and confidence in his weathered face. For a single moment he looks utterly lost. Then, two enormous shapes—writhing, living leviathans of bright red chitinous plates—burst through the floor in the back corners of the room. Eliza screams, and the chamber erupts into chaos.
With disgusting convulsions that release a gush of stomach acids onto the Great Room’s floor, the scarlet worms vomit forth humanoid stone constructs with the heads of ravens.
Initiative:
??? 16.1
Party 15.8
???2 13
Worms 3.5
Room doors upstairs open simultaneously.
Cladissa shouts, "Up on the balcony! Archers!" to her friends, then begins moving. Her spider legs take over, moving her rapidly across the floor and up the 20 feet to the balcony. She then screams at the masked figures, "Why do you do this?? If you have any loyalty to Galt, you will surrender!"
Cladissa unleashes a lightning bolt down the western wing, hopefully removing that group of archers from the fight.