Recruited to reclaim the town of Kelmarane from a tribe of gnolls, six adventurers find themselves caught up in a series of events that may change the face of Katapesh: the Legacy of Fire.
- Thousands of years ago. Xotani, the Firebleeder, spawn of Rovagug, rampages through Garundi, incinerating armies and burning nations. Is destroyed by the League of Wands.
- Katapesh is founded by pilgrims fleeing strife in Osirion. Sarenrae's Bastion (Solku) and Katapesh are founded.
- Four centuries ago. Nefeshti and her Templars and allies fight a powerful cult of Rovagug based at the Temple of the Beast. The cult is broken but noone on Nefeshti's side is heard from again.
- The Pactmasters take control of Katapesh, routing the previous rulers, a coalition of warlords.
- A hundred years ago. Travellers report sightings of a spirit that investigating priests conclude is Vardishal, a minor saint of the Dawnflower. A church and shrine are built, expanding into a monastery as the town of Kelmarane is founded to anchor the great overland trade route to Osirion.
- Twenty years ago. Disaster strikes Kelmarane and the town is abandoned. With the loss of Kelmarane and increasing gnoll activity the trade route is also abandoned in favor of the longer but safer journey by sea.
The Courts of Stone and Flame:
This book discovered in the monastery near Kelmarane describes many personages of the various jinn courts. It will take some time to go through it in detail but there are several references to the djinn princess Nefeshti and her primary servitors, the Templars of the Five Winds.
Nefeshti’s history is storied, going back several thousand years beyond available records. The book notes her crusade against the abuse, mortal and otherwise, of wish magic but there are also references to her opposing mortal genie-binders, including the legendary Katapeshi wizard Andrathi. Her actions, particularly the former, frequently brought her into armed conflict with other jinn, particularly the efreet and the shaitan.
The book sets out several theories in relation to her Templars. The primary, taken from the Song of Edrehu is that they were jann (lesser jinn from the prime material plane) made immortal through Nefeshti’s wishcraft for as long as they retained her favour. Another is that they were once human and made into jann by Nefeshti but the book notes this would have been a breach of dictates set down by the djinn court and is therefore unlikely.
Whatever their origins, the book makes clear that the Templars were the primary enforcers of Nefeshti’s will, and the leaders of her followers which included djinn, marids, jann as well as some few mortals.
The book contains a short description of the five Templars. Each was associated with a specific aspect of the wind and wielded a distinct magic weapon, forged by Azer from the Elemental Plane of Fire.
- Vardishal of the North Wind. Also known as the Great General, Vardishal was said to be the most powerful and loyal of the Templars and the leader of Nefeshti’s army. He wielded a sentient magical scimitar known as Tempest.
- Pazhvann of the East Wind. Nefeshti’s advisor and spiritual guide, he was the conscience of the Templars and wielded a tremendous burning flail.
- Zayifid of the West Wind. Nefeshti’s messenger, diplomat and sometimes spy, Zayifid was said to be a careful and patient planner. His weapon is a delicate but razor-sharp scimitar.
- Kardswann of the South Wind. Nefeshti’s scout and a traveller of all the planes, Kardswann was said to be an impulsive but powerful warrior with a love for combat and the strength of a giant. He wielded an elaborate greataxe.
- Davashuum. Said to represent the destructive power of all of the winds, Davashuum is described as an amoral and deadly creature that served Nefeshti as executioner and, in extremes, assassin. She was a master of unarmed combat and wore magic handwraps.
The current (this book is about a hundred years old) status of Nefeshti and her Templars is unknown. The author cites several fragmentary references to Nefeshti’s forces fighting a series of battles about 400 years before the current date against a powerful cult of Rovagug whose power was centred at a great temple, the House of the Beast, situated on the slopes of Pale Mountain in the Brazen Peaks.
These battles were said to have raged across all of the surrounding area with Nefeshti’s army fighting against the cultists and dread creatures of flame and shadow.
The consensus from all available records is that the power of the cult was broken but the author concludes that neither Nefeshti nor her Templars have been heard from since, although travellers in the northern reaches of Katapesh and the southern bounds of Osirion still sometimes attribute miracles or victories to the laters guidance.
The section concludes with a brief mention of the very monastery in which you sit. Travellers to the area reported sightings of a spirit which investigating priests of Sarenrae concluded was that of Vardishal, a minor saint of the Dawnflower. The spirit appeared to be benign and there are reports of it seemingly providing warnings along with the typical stories of healing and other miracles. As the area began to attract pilgrims, the church built and dedicated a shrine to Vardishal on the spot of his most frequent appearances, expanding the monastery around it years later. The author poses the question of whether the spirit Vardishal and the lost Templar are one in the same and, if so, what would keep a warrior of such reputed loyalty bound to the area for so long.
Khalid's Vardishal Dream 1:
You sleep but it is difficult sleep, full of fitful dreams of alien people and places. The most beautiful woman you have ever seen with perfect, dusky skin and a whirlwind for legs. Dread creatures of fire and shadow. A palace made of golden light and air. Thoughts and memories that you know are not your own swirl through your mind. But somehow they meld and blend with your own and it becomes difficult to tell the difference. At some fundamental level you are changing but you feel no fear. You fall deeper into dream and you remember...
As your warriors ready themselves for battle you cannot help but check your own weapon. As always Tempest feels good at your side. Ready, eager. Below you the valley stretches for a mile or so but here at the place you have chosen it is narrow. Narrow enough to give you a chance, the Gods willing, if only a slim one. They call you the Great General. Well any general knows there is a time for planning and a time where the planning is done and you just have to roll the dice and see how they fall.
Maric approaches. Lean and tall with glowing eyes he goes to one knee. My General. We stand ready to carry out your will.
Below the first of the enemy are just coming into sight, crimson skinned giants, smoke rising in curls from their black armour. They are flying low as you hoped, wary of your mistress’s storms. Fewer in number than your own force but then you would still be uneasy with two to their one. Their leader comes into view. Near fourteen feet tall, he is huge and terrible. But you are long past fear, even without your brothers to stand at your side. Let him feel the cold of Tempest's bite.
It is time. Your warriors already know what to do and one by one and in groups they activate their invisibility and fade from sight. You can still feel them though. You can sense that their heads are still turned to you and you give them the words they need to hear.
My fellows, my friends. Many times we have fought side by side and you have never failed me. I will not lie. We face our greatest test. But although our enemies may be strong, so is our mutual purpose. We are foresworn by our lives to preserve all that is good in this universe. That is the source of our courage and our strength. Our enemies live simply to burn and kill and despoil. They are hollow and empty and that is their weakness. By our will and the blessing of our Gods I say to you that WE WILL PREVAIL. FOR HONOUR. FOR NEFESHTI! Oh Gods you would give everything just to see her one last time.
TO BATTLE! You trigger your own invisibility and fly toward your destiny.
Khalid's Vardishal Dream 2:
It has been a long time since you shared one of Vardishal's dreams but when it does come you slip back into it effortlessly.
The tent is large and the fittings lavish but they do little to ease the weariness that seems seeped into your bones. The fighting has been near constant and there has been no time for rest.
You and your brothers form a rough half circle. Kardswann to your left, he at least is never so happy as when surrounded by enemies. Zayifid to your right, the trickster casually lounges on a pile of cushions, his red hair messy. Pazhvann sits almost directly across, encased in his heavy armour the burly priest looks even more tired than you feel and you share a nod. The demands on his magical reserves have been immense and as always he endures without complaint.
Of your siblings only your sister Davashuum is absent, on some mission for your mistress. The competition between you has only intensified of late, the deadly monk increasingly resistant to your intrusion into her sphere of influence. Not a problem you have the time or energy to resolve now.
The soft sound of chimes announces your mistresses' entry as well of that of the halfling, Andrathi, resplendent in his silk robes and numerous magical trinkets. You could never quite find yourself able to like or trust the genie binder no matter how many times his magic had proved the difference between victory and defeat. Equally, you are sure the wizard had never forgotten his defeat at your hands. But again something for another day.
In human form your mistress looked radiant as always, undiminished by the fighting, resolute. She at least was deserving of your service, your respect. Always.
My brave champions, our situation is dire and I have exhausted all possibilities for external assistance. We must win this war with what we have. I need options.
Ever the joker, Zayifid's reply was droll. Perhaps a strategic retreat? I believe the wizard still has his scroll. Kakishon sounds lovely this time of year.
Throwing him a "not the time" look, you stand. Mistress, our greatest enemy is time and we are rapidly running out of it. We have met our enemies superior strength with superior tactics and speed, wearing them down and minimising our own casualties, but simply put we can no longer afford to defend. Our foe cares not for his losses and soon the relative size of our forces will not matter. We have no choice, we must attack and in force.
Your mistress looks at you for a long moment. Very well. I have scryed their flanking force. Vardishal, my general. You will take the 2nd and 3rd contingents south east. You will prevent the enemy forces there from joining up with their main army. The others will stay with me.
Kardswann stands. Mistress! Vardishal will need me to watch his back! Let me go with him, I beg you!
No, you say calmly. Our Mistress has spoken. I will go. And I will not fail.
She looks at you again. So noble, so beautiful. I know you will not my General. I know you will not.
Khalid's Vardishal Dream 3:
You sleep, the magic of the garden soothing your body if not your mind.
You dream what can only be Vardishal's dreams. They are fleeting, confusing. Battles and dances and feasts. Places of wonder well beyond Golarian.
Most of all you dream of Nefeshti and your brothers and sisters: your beautiful Mistress, brave Kardswann, sly Zayifid, loyal Pazhvann and silent Davashuum. You can see their faces so clearly. Why did they leave you? Why did you fight alone?
There is something .. something you cannot quite put your finger on. Something calls you or you call to it...
Nuveril's Dream 1:
You find sleep more difficult than the others, your subconcious automatically reacting to fight against the garden's affect (even if it is benign).
When you do sleep, dreams come.
First you are flying. Soaring through whispy cloud, the earth just a tiny speck below if it is there at all. You have an overwhelming sense of freedom ... until the sky begins to darken and dark chains manifest from nowhere, trapping you, dragging you down...
Shift.
Your in a pit, only a tiny shaft of light feebly penetrating from a hole miles above. You are surrounded by vague, translucent forms. They want your warmth, hunger for it.
You have companions, they are near. You can't see them but you can hear them, shuffling around, yelling commands, crying for help.
Useless. You can rely only on yourself, your birthright. You will not die here, you will not. You will claim your prize. Screaming you thrust your hands forward and bright fire errupts, burning your enemies to cinders...
You sleep, your body changing, your amulet hot against your breast...
Scroll of Kakishon:
From the way the elemental pulled this out unrolled it looks like it was laid down open over the legs (or head maybe its impossible to tell from here which end is up) of the sarcophagus' mystery occupant. It doesn't look terribly impressive, a piece of tattered and dusty parchment bearing a single, large rune.
The mark is an obscure Nexian rune, one often associated with the powerful wizard-king himself, although primarily with periods early in his rule, from a time after he had achieved great power but before his war with Geb reached its height.
It is said that runes like these were often used to mask the true contents of a page, and often one gifted in magic could pierce the obscuring rune with spells, by observing the map in a reflected surface or under certain kinds of light, while under the effects of mind-altering substances or after waking from particularly vivid dreams.
Translated the rune means "Kakishon". Something tugs at the mage's memory but he cannot recall exactly what it is..
Seb's Journal:
...... cursing myself for being so greedy. One last job to buy that villa. Maybe make an honest woman out of Yiella. But truth be told it was always the rubies. Dark red, like blood. I don't think I've ever seen anything so damn beautiful.
Getting down here was easy enough. The halflings were right about that at least. The illusion magic kept us hidden and those potions let us see in the dark (Gods a burglar could get used to that).
The upper levels were practically empty, only a few dogs in that bloody temple and we got past them with the magic easy enough. The smell though! Never come across anything like it not even in the worst holes in Dog Town. The mechanism was right where she said it would be. It's all supposed to be written down in that book she carries although it's not like I get to have a look for myself. I can read well enough. B~$*+.
The garden gave me a bad feeling right from the start. Those plants, underground in a place like this. Just isn't natural. Hadn't been there a minutes when we got attacked. Took a cut to the leg, damn thing is paining me still despite drinking a healing potion. We're resting now for a few hours before venturing down.
And what is down there is what worries me. What they don't know and what they know and aren't telling me. There is supposed to be some kind of creature, a waiting beast, guarding the seed. Something powerful and nasty to be down here so many years I'd wager although they say there's a way to get past so I can filch it.
The two of them don't trust each other one bit. That is for certain. A blind man could see it and I didn't make it to my current respectable age without seeing what is in front of my face. Tamir just wants the seed. All he can think of are those rubies as well. And the other one, this Perimac, she just wants to find this supposed tomb. Obsessed with it I say and you can tell Tamir is suspicious about it. Who in their right mind wants to bring down on themselves the curse of some old god of the bloody dogmen.
Not Sev, Abadar's oath on that.
Though maybe if she finds some grand treasure there will be a way to see some of it sticking to my hands. A cut of the rubies and ancient treasure as well sounds fine, just fine. I need to take care though. I need to be just as quiet and careful as I can. And patient. Bide my time and we will see what we will see.
Mohandis' Revelations to Khalid:
Mohindis is silent for a time and some instinct tells you to keep quiet as well. Then he begins to speak.
There were once over 50 in my jama'at.
When Vardishal raised Nefeshti's banner we answered the call. What else could we do? We keep to the old ways and this land is ours to protect.
You can see the result. Centuries later and we are less than half that number. So many lost. My wife, my son ....
You humans. Your memories fade and dim as you advance in years. Even your elven friend will struggle to remember your faces after centuries. Ours do not. We always remember.
What happened? We are Bound not to speak of it. But Vardishal died and those of us left.... well we dwindled, even the Templars eventually. They say the only thing worse than winning a war is losing one.
That is why I do not wish to speak of it. Part I cannot. The rest just reminds me of what we have lost, what I have lost.
Mohandis' Revelations to Nuveril:
He looks like he is trying to work out whether you are telling the truth (sensing your motives as it were) but his conclusion isn't gelling with something else he knows.
It is a jinn seal. And a potent one, I can feel that from here. I do not see how you cannot know what it is. Such magic is personal, it cannot simply be passed from person to person.
Yet despite your race you are no jinn binder, that is evident. There is a mystery here but I do not wish to try and unravel it. I simply want it away from my people.
Be at peace Nuveril. He turns to leave.
Mohandis' Story:
Rovagug had sent ten thousand children crawling through the fire and the crushing dark, all seeking an escape for their father from the prison that held him. And nearly ten thousand of them had died in fire and agony. Only one, a creature called Xotani the Firebleeder, was true to its sire.
The Firebleeder’s claws were sharper than those of an earth demon and its breath fouler than that of pure mephitic death from the core of the world. It slithered through the earth like a colossal worm, uncrushable and always hungry. It devoured miles of stone before it, and dropped dust and slag metal in its wake.
And so the creature continued until one day, chewing through gentle sandstone, the Firebleeder found something new: a deliciously glowing bit of lichen in a wet, airy tunnel. It was delicious, a brief spark of sap and living juices against a palate raised on hard stone and dry dust. Ever hungry, the Firebleeder followed the tunnel upward and upward again. Finally it broke through to the surface, under a blinding noonday sun, where it roared and clawed out its own eyes from the pain.
The Firebleeder bled magma from its eye sockets and cursed its father’s name, he who had made it, he who had imbued with the urge to dig ever upward. The surface was a place of delicious pain, and so the Firebleeder dragged its bulk just below the surface, scorching everything above it. The flaming demonworm set fire to the forest. It set fire to the city at the edge of the forest. It ravaged the land, incinerating entire cities in an echo of its father’s destructive rage. And so the world began to burn anew.
Smoke and ash and cinders flew from the forests charred by the Firebleeder, fires that scorched soil into dust. Vast deserts grew from lush forest in mere days. The smoke turned noon to twilight. The people fled their lands, becoming nomads who would never again dare to settle, and the streets of the realm’s greatest cities emptied in fear of the inevitable fire.
Heroes rose to the challenge and set forth to conquer the fire wyrm, but their banners burned away and their swords and spears were reduced to slag. After countless armies fell to the beast’s wrath, a hundred arcanists and masters of ancient magical bloodlines swore an oath as the Legion of Wands and set forth to test their magic against the nightmare.
Battle mages, geniebinders, sand mages of Isirion, archmages of Nex, and dozens of other arcanists from all corners of the continent met to face the horror that threatened to spread its flames across their lands.
The Firebleeder’s first blast cut their numbers in half, sweeping the weakest away. But this bought the others time to bring their magic to the fore; freezing storms, hails of icy spears, rains of hissing water, and thunderous lightning transfixed the wyrm as bolts of force broke upon it in a furious storm.
Magma spewed from the Firebleeder’s wounds, each injury gushing like the eruption of a furious volcano, but the wizards stood strong. Infuriated and confused, the fire wyrm summoned a blast of flame to melt the mountains and boil the seas. Yet as the abomination readied to unleash its final wrath, the wizards spoke as one, shouting a single word of arcane might that silenced all for a thousand miles, ringing off the clouds.
And breaking the silence, a great cracking sounded as the Firebleeder’s volcanic blood cooled to stone and the beast crashed to earth.
The Firebleeder fell, impaling itself upon a mountain made white by the bones of the heroes that died that day, its hide shattering to cinders. A hundred lights glowed over its corpse by night, and of the Legion of Wands, only a dozen survived to rejoice in their victory and mourn their comrades.
Yet some say, at dawn, the corpse twitched and stirred. Deep in the heart of the mountain an ember remained in the Firebleeder’s breast.
Nuveril's Findings In Kelmarane Records:
Your learning has been slow and frustrating but bit by bit, month by month, your tenacity has yielded results.
With Linah’s patient assistance, you can read now, if slowly.
The records contain an enormous amount of irrelevance given that they relate to a town of 2000 people who you would not be interested in to start with and are now long dead. They provide no clues to Xulthos’ motives or activities aside from a clear hole where things started going wrong. The fall of the town was amazingly swift.
Your search reveals four families of halflings who lived in the town (indeed it seems in the section of the upper town where you found the amulet): the Duffys, the Perimacs, the Proudfeet and the Tufnells.
Three of the four appear to have lived in Kelmarane for decades, the fourth, the Perimacs appear to have arrived a few years before the disaster. This is not much to go on and you have grown increasingly frustrated as you move through the pile.
You are near the end and on the verge of giving up and devoting your full energies to looking for enemies around the town, when you come across what appears to be a record of births, penned by a clerk and signed by Halruun, Knight Protector of Kelmarane.
4 Pharast 4682
Birth:
Bellsa Perimac (mother), Timor Perimac (father)
Mimsly Perimac (f), Tanelia Perimac (f)
Twins delivered healthy. Such beautiful little girls.
Zeladiel's Letter:
The last time you returned home to the small apartment you rent in Katapesh you found the following letter under the door penned in immaculate handwriting on the finest paper.
Zeladiel Araxyll
I understand your father, Zelandariel Araxyll, is dead. You have my condolences.
As his blood relation and heir you bear responsibility for the discharge of his obligations by all the Laws of Commerce.
Your father undertook to provide me with a Rough Seed in exchange for remuneration. Such remuneration was duly paid in accordance with the Contract.
Unfortunately, your side of the Contract remains unfulfilled. Pursuant to its terms you have until the last date of Rova, 4709 to deliver the Rough Seed. Given your limited magical abilities I will accept delivery in the city of Katapesh rather than require extra-planar transport.
At midnight following the final date you shall be deemed to be in breach of the Contract. The agreed penalty shall thereafter be immediately applied.
Urd, Captain of the Sunset Ship
Rayhan's Information About the Sunset Ship:
I know a little, although in truth your father was more business associate than friend. I gather that when he and your mother came here to the south they were nearly penniless. He gained an influx of coin from somewhere to fund his trading activities, but he never spoke of its source.
Urd is not a name that is known to me but this Sunset Ship .. well its part of the city's folklore although I've heard the name from enough tounges not to think there is some truth to it. The taletellers say it docks here every few decades, a great caravel with red sails. From where, noone knows. Its traders always pay in rubies, great blood red things.
Perhaps this is all just a bad jape but I'd be inclined not to just ignore it. One of the merchant guilds has asked me to verify whether some artifacts are Nexian in origin. When I am finished with that I will see what I can find out.
House Rules:
- Core and APG (excluding summoners, persistent metamagic)
- UM and UC with permission
- HP is average rounded up or roll
- Some advancement feats have been modified
- Gnoll allowed as PC race (see Grall)
- Raise dead and resurrection magic only works on PCs and others with a special destiny.
- A character may declare a full attack and convert that to a standard action and a move action if the first attack is succesful.
- Heirloom weapon as old trait (+1 to hit, no free exotic weapon prof)
- Brass knuckles as old rules (allow monk unarmed damage, can be enchanted, functions as unarmes strike).
- For trip, disarm combat modifers (ie weapon focus) require the weapon to have the relevant feature.
UM/UC Exclusions (ongoing)
Classes
Magus
Gunslinger
Samurai*
Ninja*
Antipaladin
Archtypes
Quinggong
Beastmorph
Holy Gun
* May go into allowed pile following further individual review
