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Undead? Like those damned skeletons at Azlanti Ridge! At least this time, we have time to prepare.
Garduk quickly relates what little he remembers of Ghol-Gan to the others.
"If we need to carry so many supplies, maybe we should buy a donkey to carry them for us? Or we could all rent or buy horses?"
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Garduk looks at Kulga with the rictus that passes for a grin on his many-scarred face.
"Oh, I think I can carry my weight. But if you don't mind hauling some of my extra food, we'll certainly move a little faster. The other advantage to bringing a donkey would be that we wouldn't have to live only on trail rations if the mission takes longer than we expect, but I see your point."
Mmmm, fire-roasted donkey! Dinner on the hoof!
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And your off, the journey to Kaddodi winds through thick jungles and along treacherous rivers. Nearing the site of the city, a grisly spectacle comes into view on the side of the trail. A tall wooden pole, decorated with carvings of animals and spirits, has been decorated with several shrunken, mummified heads.
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Brayne fears not the horrid sight, but does at the thought of un-civilization. Along the way he continues a internal conflict about the means to an end with his ghostly butler.
"Well, that's not something you see everyday. If I had a spirit animal, I'd probably be a giant bat." He chuckles to himself at the site of the wooden pole."What does it mean anyway?" He asks no one in particular.
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"Wait a moment, everybody - have any of you ever seen something like this before?"
Garduk examines the carvings on the pole, and the mummified heads, looking for anything that would indicate the ages of the carvings and the heads, who might have made them, and whether the heads were part of the original item or added later. He is also interested in whose heads they might be - humans, intelligent humanoids, something else - and is whoever collected the heads still hanging around?
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Bokkah exams the heads and realizes quickly that they are shrunken grippli heads.
Kulga discovers the footprints of multiple small humanoids leading towards and from the pole, leaving in the direction of what you believe is the path to Kaddodi.
Moving on you find the city of Kaddodi. It looms ahead; partially collapsed walls overgrown with foliage tower forty feet in the air, and the buildings in the complex were clearly built to a scale of giants. The stink of blood and tropical decay is heavy in the air—a battle has taken place here. Dozens of small humanoid bodies lie dead in the sunlight, flies and vultures settling into the feast. The bodies are fresh and recent, as if the conflict here took place mere hours before. A gleaming well sits in the middle of the square, seemingly untouched by the violence.
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Brayne looks around keeping his nerves. "Well. That's not something you see everyday, or any normal day I would think. Say, do you think that the well there is possible magical? It looks odd and out of place, let's go check it." He notes, particularly towards Garduk. Brayne then walks slowly towards the well and attempts to detect magic.
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As Brayne approaches the fountain, he walks through the bodies. The corpses are comprised of gripplis and halflings, but it is evident from a quick scan that many more gripplis have fallen than halflings. He hears a frantic scratching and whining coming from the battlefield, near one of the grippli bodies.
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"Should we check in their bag first? Maybe there's something in it that will help?"
While Brayne talks to the injured grippli, Garduk opens her/his satchel to see what the compsognathus was trying to get. If he doesn’t see anything obvious, he will hold out the open satchel towards the little dinosaur, and ask, “Any ideas?”
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As Brayne casts draws his wand to cast cure light wounds on the grippli, Garduk examine the satchel. The satchel is lined with thick protective leather other than small holes, perhaps air holes; and two receptacles filled food and water. It may be the small dinosaur's home.
Garduk relays to Kulga that compsognatus are not poisonous.
Brayne uses the wand, the small, frog-like humanoid sits up, her bulging eyes darting nervously. “You’re not Hazh’a,” she says in a high, reedy voice, the relief clear. “They may still be in the city. They have to be stopped or my tribe’s work will be forever undone.”
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The grippli stands a little wobbly at first, but then steady. The compsognatus rushes up it's master body and perches on its shoulder. The grippli surveys the battlefield.
Letting out a sigh, Stop the Hazh’a yes that must be done. But Purpurrup, first must help my kin. The dead must be washed, buried and mourned. She moves toward the nearest of her departed kin and kneels down next to him.
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Brayne looks precariously on at the now awaken grippli. He ponders at what the grippli said and wonders if the creature is being truthful or delusional. He whispers to Garduk, "What is that? Do you think we can trust it? She looks like a wild animal."
Not a moment past, Brayne decides that he should take her word as it is since she seems to be of no harm. He walks over right on top looking down on her perform her ritual. "Say we do trust you... What is your tribe's work? And why should the Hzah'a be stopped? What's in it for us?"
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Purpurrup replies to Brayne's inquiry, I am an apprentice to the fiend keeper of my tribe. He is now dead. The grippli looks down at the dead grippli at her feet, then to the rest of the dead grippli. As are many of my people.
Fiend keepers, in my people's traditions are entrusted to siphon the hateful energy from fiends and put it toward productive uses, strengthening our souls while weakening the monster’s power. My tribe’s keeper was especially revered, as his fiend is physically here, trapped within a ruined temple of this city. The Hazh’a must be here to free this monster and undo our labors. These wicked halflings worship fiends as if they were proper gods. We have clashed with them a few times, but only ever in brief skirmishes. This time they brought an army, and were victorious.
Many of their warriors fight with bare hands, their fingers twisted into claws. Their leader was merely a child, but he wore the robes of a priest and carried a polearm longer than he was tall. There is an abandoned temple where the fiend here is trapped. The halflings must be going there to free it. I have only been there once myself—in its lower level there is a wall covered in wards and symbols behind which the fiend is held.
But I must help my people pass along, before the Hazh’a can be stopped.
Despite the impending danger, Purpurrup seems determined to complete the burials first.
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Garduk is convinced that the grippli is sincere in her beliefs, but incredulous that she would worry more about the dead than the immediate threat to the living.
"Where exactly is this temple? What kind of fiend is kept there? How would the halflings free it from the magical wards? And how are you going to be table to take care of your tribe's dead if the fiend is freed in the next few minutes?"
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Garduk turns to look in the direction Purpurrup indicates, looking for something that could be the temple.
Garduk pulls a scroll out of one of the boxes in his pack, and turns to the mourning grippli.
"My friends and I need to discuss what to do next, but I may be able to assist you with at least part of your task."
Garduk steps a few paces away from the grieving grippli and motions the others to join him, so the party can speak privately.
"I think we have three ways forward. We can help Purpurrup with the burial of her tribe so she will be done faster, and might perhaps act as a guide for us. We can go straight to the temple - it can't be that hard to find - in case she is wrong about how hard it will be for the halflings to free the fiend. And finally, we could try drinking water from this well out of the Sargava Chalice. Brayne did not detect any magic emanations from the well, but maybe there is no magic in the water except when it is in the Chalice?"
"The idea of not going immediately to the temple makes me nervous; destroying something is almost always far easier than building it. But perhaps the benefit of having a guide, or the information we glean from any mystic visions, would be worth the delay? What do you think we should do?"
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Bokkah listens to Purpurrup's story, all the while thinking how delicious this compsognathus looks.
"If her people have been keeping this fiend for generations, I believe her when she says it will take the halflings a considerable amount of time to free it. Let's help her if she will agree to assist us in exchange."
She speaks up towards the grippli: "Purpurrup, will you show us the way to the temple and help us defeat your halfling enemies if we assist you in preparing your people for burial? Also, do you know anything about this well here?"
If Purpurrup answers in the affirmative, Bokkah will quickly set to collecting the grippli corpses and laying them out in respectful poses to be washed.
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Brayne relays to Garduk earlier that he found no magical auras emanating from the well or the immediate area.
Brayne listens intently at the conversation but has his focus soon wandering, but soon, his eyes widen at the sound of 'special cup'. "Did you say special cup?" He asks, then turning to his companions, "Since it seems we have some time, we should attempt to drink this water then!"
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Garduk hesitates, torn between the appeal of learning the funeral rites of this tribe of a race he has never encountered before, and the almost overwhelming need to experience the visions of the ancient civilization of the cyclopes.
He starts to follow Brayne to the well, and almost stumbles over one of the grippli corpses.
I don't have to be first. I can learn something from these tiny creatures now, and then see what there is to see from the ancient giants.
"You go ahead, Brayne. If it works, we'll all try it before we go to the temple."
The half-orc stoops down, picks up the tiny body, and carries it nearer to the burial pit where Purpurrup is cleaning the corpses. He sits on the ground next to her.
"Do your people live nearby?"
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Bokkah, Garduk, and Kulga assist the grippli in her grim duty, Garduk makes some small talk.
This city had only a small amount of us—fewer than fifty. I fear most of them are dead. There are many clans of us scattered throughout this land. More of my people will come here to secure the fiend. Purpurrup replies.
Meanwhile, Brayne dips the Sargava Chalice in the clean and clear water, seemingly untouched by age or violence, and takes a big drink.
As the water flows down your throat, your vision wavers. Superimposed over the destroyed city of Kaddodi, as if in a dream, is a vision of the city as it appeared in its prime. The city as it actually is still appears solid, but translucent images of Kaddodi as it was sit hazily alongside it. Plants are cleared away, ruined buildings appear whole, and here and there you catch glimpses of cyclopes passing by. The denizens of the city ignore you, as if you were peering in on them without their knowledge. One of the cyclopes, however, meets your gaze, his expression mournful and face slack. “Well met, stranger,” he says in Common.
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Brayne stares straight ahead, into nothing in particular. His body still with very minute movements.
Brayne gasp in awe at the marvelous sight. He never possibly dreamt that this could happen. He becomes confused as the Cyclops greets him and moment to adjust to the situation. "Mm.. Yes.. Hello there...stranger. if If you could be so kind to assist me.. Who might you be? Aghast am I looking at?"
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Brayne become aware that face and eyes feel funny. And the rest of the group are interrupted in there work to hear Brayne saying something funny.
"Mm.. Yes.. Hello there...stranger. if If you could be so kind to assist me.. Who might you be? What am I looking at?"
You all turn and notice one of Brayne's eyes has swollen to twice its normal size, while his other eye has gone cloudy and blank, as if suffering from a cataract. He is speaking to no one you can see.
The Cyclops speaks to you. My name is Akmon. I am a sage and scholar, and the last of my people to follow the old ways of the sun and moon, though I know that this will not prevent their fall. Even now I see around you what the future has wrought. But perhaps, with your help, my struggles will not be in vain.
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Brayne continues his absent stares into presumably nothing. He looks around, into the pathfinders general direction, but looks around, as if he was searching.
Brayne continues speaking, "Well met, Akmon. I see. Well.. what is it that caused the fall.. descent into madness? And what is it that you think I can help with?" There's a hint of confusion but also curiosity in his voice.