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A slyph wafts into the Venture Captains office. Like many she is slim and quick of foot. Unlike many she also is heavily muscled and carries a brace of wicked looking daggers at her waist.
"Vagantem. I'm a cook, and pathfinder. And these knives are good for cutting carrots as well as orcs. What are we looking for?"
Her manner is not quite the polite one you might expect of a slyph, being somewhat abrupt, almost as if someone had called out her cooking in a restaurant the night before.
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Is that greeting? Don't want to be rude... "Vagantem!" Thundering Bull responds to the slyph. "Me Thundering Bull. Also like kill orcs. Orcs make Thundering Bull slave," explains the towering man in what is likely the dirtiest set of full-plate you've ever seen. "Who are you and you?" he says, pointing a meaty finger at the other two occupants of the room.
"Can cook too, look in bucket," he demands, raising a greasy bucket with it's lid removed. Within, is a pile of bread, cheese, and two whole cooked chickens. While the smell is delectable, it all looks to be dirty as well.
Joining Dolamite at the table with a heavy thud and a loud groan as the chair struggles to remain upright, he sets the bucket down next to him. The pop of a dislocating bone follows as he snaps a hefty leg off of the chicken and starts to eat.
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Proudly, Thundering Bull stands up with his arms bent above his head. he declares, posturing for another moment.
The large man then takes off a couple of pieces of armor, revealing the heavily scarred skin beneath, and points to a series of tattoos. "Sklar-Quah mark Thundering Bull when he beat orc raiders," he explains, "One orc skull mean one orc raid." There are eleven skull tattoos in all, each with a vicious scar running through it, deep enough to have not closed fully before healing. The "crack" in the skull disfigures each symbol. "Orcs not like that part..." he mumbles before replacing his armor and resuming his meal.
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A young Shoanti male entered the Venture Captains office and saw the others assembled, greeting each other in turn. The volume of meat and muscle found the shaman assessing the other adventurers to see how healthy they were in case he needed to patch them up.
Seeing Thundering Bull he responded in his native tongue.
While they waited for the others to arrive, he reached into a bandolier and started to shuffle a deck of cards. Selected one he looked it over.
"Hum, the Peacock, that is a rather flamboyant card but it will serve for the day." he said, mostly to himself
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Proudly, Thundering Bull stands up with his arms bent above his head. he declares, posturing for another moment.
The large man then takes off a couple of pieces of armor, revealing the heavily scarred skin beneath, and points to a series of tattoos. "Sklar-Quah mark Thundering Bull when he beat orc raiders," he explains, "One orc skull mean one orc raid." There are eleven skull tattoos in all, each with a vicious scar running through it, deep enough to have not closed fully before healing. The "crack" in the skull disfigures each symbol. "Orcs not like that part..." he mumbles before replacing his armor and resuming his meal.
Feeling a growing comradery with Thundering Bull, Dolamite opens the front of his robes exposing a tattoo of an open hand print. This too has powerful meaning. It means I strive for strength and enlightenment and for self perfection. It is the mark of the Master of Masters. Perhaps in the morning you will rise early and perform katas with me?
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The nagaji's coming is heralded by loud footsteps and several crashing sounds outside the room. A green-scaled, loincloth-clad nagaji bursts into the room, nearly crashing into the wall before turning around and striking a strange pose, his arms erected over his head like horns.
"The dragon's name is Rayquaza, but you can call me the dragon!"
Rayquaza peeps into Thundering Bull's bucket and sniffs it, then emits a low gurgle from his throat.
"The dragon will enjoy Thundering Bull's company greatly!"
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A gregarious and rather animated dwarf comes bounding into the Venture Captain's office. "Is this Drandle Dreng's office?!? They should put markers outside the door, I've spent all morning searching for this infernal room..." he bellows to no one in particular. Without waiting for a response, he takes a chair and kicks feet up onto the table.
"SO... anyone have any idea where we're headed?" he inquires to the others as he pulls a small cask out of his backpack. "Oh and the name is Rgulblux Thunderdrum, but everyone calls me Wyrmbeard. I don't believe I've met any of you before. No matter, we'll be in the thick of it soon enough and likely come out of it as compadres... ... assuming any of us come back at all."
"Anyone care for a draw?" Rgulbux offers as he begins pouring a foamy draw of ale into a fancy tankard that he produced from his belt. Smiling at Rayquaza, he continues without missing a beat, "Let me know if you need a tap of that little twig there, um, er... Dragon! Always happy to oblige my fellow Pathfinders."
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Kegdrainer smiled at the offer of a drink. "In the name of Cayden Cailean, I can not turn down your offer." he said, taking the tankard in hand as he made an offering before taking a deep sip.
"Sorry, I have no idea what the task is or where we have to go. We will have to cool our heels until the Venture Captain shows up."
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When Kegdrainer addresses him in Shoanti, he immediately gains Thundering Bull's attention.
"Shaman Kegdrainer of the Shundar-Quah, ancestors bless us. Thundering Bull have food if you want. Make new food too, as the ancestors desire. Thundering Bull protect you, crush your foes," he vows.
Important task if Pathfinder Society send many Shoanti. Shaman too, Shaman Kegdrainer of the Shundar-Quah brings great honor. Dolamite soon pulls him out of his thoughts and his brow furrows deeply. "What is a kata? Thundering Bull not know."
Thundering Bull eyes Rayquaza carefully, examining his physique and judging his various shows of power. Then he looks into his bucket, carefully contemplating which piece to give the Nagaji. A quick series of succulent pops echo out of the bucket and he produces breast with the ribs still attached. "Rayquaza eat good piece, keep him strong," he says, nodding his head sagely.
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"SPAR!" the dwarf spits out most of his ale. "Oh, damnation!" he stammers as he uses his robes to wipe dry several pieces of paper and a large tomb resting on Dreng's desk.
Once satisfied that the area is dry, for the most part, he continues by nodding at Dolamite and raising his tankard "This is all the exercise I'll need in the morning... but every good sport needs a spectator, so I'll be happy to come and cheer you all on!"
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"I should hope so," comes the reliably sleepy voice of Drandle Dreng, just as Vagantem finishes. The door to his office opens and in steps an odd company: The VC himself, then a cloaked human whose little visible skin is covered in horrific burns, and two heavily armored half-orcs flanking the latter man. One of them fills a small basin with steaming water, which the burned man plunges his feet into as he sits down. Dreng follows suit and finds a chair, suppresses a yawn, and continues. "Pathfinders, this is Grandmaster Torch. “He’s an... associate of the Society. We owe him a favor after that business in Sedeq, and it seems he’s looking to collect.”
"You wound me, my lord," Torch says, leaving Dreng to chuckle in the background. "I come in the interest of the common good. You see, my good friend and occasional business associate, Nuar Spiritskin, is missing. You may know him better as the Minotaur Prince of Absalom, the head of the Taurean Embassy and something of a famous foreign dignitary, what with his assertions that he speaks for all Minotaurs everywhere. A collection of papers recently entered my possession that spoke of a grand maze beneath the city; naturally, my first instinct was to discuss the matter with Nuar. He seemed as intrigued as I and after I elicited his help, he set out at once for the maze. It has been several days, more than enough time for a minotaur to solve a maze, and I grow worried for my bovine chum.
"Clearly, I cannot take this matter to the guard. Poor Nuar would be scandalized if word got around that he couldn’t solve a simple maze. I can provide you with directions to this maze, called Delirium’s Tangle, if you promise to return Nuar quietly to his home. I’m even willing to let your organization keep the artifact I believe lies in the maze’s center. Some ancient, elven hourglass—my notes aren’t specific as to what it does. Just ensure the Prince’s safety."
Dreng looks incredulous, but solemnly nods. "Nuar is a useful ally to the Society and a lost labyrinth below Absalom herself is too convenient to pass up. Take an hour to prepare and then head out. And be thorough; no telling what you’ll find down there. We don't have much information, but it is best if you know...most of what we do. Ask your questions, we will try to answer, and then point you to the maintenance tunnel."
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"Can you tell us anything more about the maze"" asks Vagantem.
"I'm guessing Nuar will be the only minotaur we are likely to find..."
String, chalk, what else might we need? wonders Vagantem to herself. Looking around she notes the lack of ranged weapons.
"Perhaps I might acquire a few more knives before we travel."
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"My notes refer to it as Delirium’s Tangle. The author claims to have once been lost in the maze ages ago and escaped by pure luck," Torch replies, taking a cursory glance at a sheaf of yellowed papers. "I imagine it’s hardly the simple mines and crypts you’re accustomed to. The design sounds elven, but I haven’t finished translating everything. Perhaps you can enlighten me on your return.
"It lies below the Ivy District, but I couldn’t possibly tell you how deep, or even its surface relation. Per this writing, it seems massive, maybe not all of it lies on this Plane? Questions you may find the answers to during your time there."
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"Rescuing Minotuar Prince from a maze... the dragon is not very good at remembering ways and solving puzzles, but he is good at keeping people alive."
Rayquaza scratches his head and looks around at his fellow Pathfinders before once again opening his mouth, evidently having remembered something.
"The dragon is a Pathfinder! Pathfinders find paths. If, like the dragon, they are not good at finding paths, they use their Wayfinder, which finds ways. Mr. Venture-Captain Dreng, the dragon needs a Wayfinder."
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I think we will need more than simple chalk and string to find our way through this place, but I suggest we each bring plenty of both. Perhaps even paint and chisels and pitons as well to mark our path. Grand Master Torch, can you tell us more of Nuar Spiritskin? Was he a warrior? A Barbarian? Did he follow any codes? His last name suggest he could be a druid or even a shaman. What might we expect from him?
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"So... uh, who is this 'author' you speak of? Did he describe any of the critters we'd likely run into down there?"
”The author did not give his name, nor any other identifiers,” Torch replies. ”But he implied there were more traps than creatures. Such things would likely be constructs, bound outsiders, or other things unaffected by time, the better to serve as guardians. This could, however, imply traps that summon such guards. Beyond that, I know not.”
"What does Minotaur Prince look like?"
”Rather small fellow for his kind. Have you ever met a minotaur? Massive things, they are! But he is perhaps the height and weight of a tall human. He also prefers expensive clothing. And perfume. Perhaps you can track him down with that,” the charred man adds with a laugh.
”Do you know anything about this artifact you think is in the middle of the Maze?”
”The notes mention a large hourglass of elven design. I believe this may be Izryen’s Hourglass, an artifact left behind when the elves first fled Golarion. It appears often in elven astrological writings, and sounds like a complicated timepiece. Should the Pathfinder Society have no interest, I’d love to add it to my own collection. But you are the ones doing the job, you deserve the first pick.”
"Grand Master Torch, can you tell us more of Nuar Spiritskin? Was he a warrior? A Barbarian? Did he follow any codes?"
"Nuar is savvy most with words. He is also possessed of some divine magic, which he only uses it when necessary. Of course, he is still a minotaur, and as such is quite strong. A very nice fellow in most situations, would prefer to talk his way out of a problem than bash it to bits."
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”But he implied there were more traps than creatures. Such things would likely be constructs, bound outsiders, or other things unaffected by time, the better to serve as guardians. This could, however, imply traps that summon such guards. Beyond that, I know not.”
"Oh, great! And here we sit without a rogue!" Rgulbux takes another long draught of ale. "Well, no time like the present... let's go grab our provisions and tools. It's time to get to work." The dwarf stands and bows to the Venture Captain before nodding at Torch.
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"The best access point is through a mile or two of maintenance tunnel. The map provided in these notes is...well, a bit convoluted to say the least. Besides, it only provides step-by-step directions - from Thuvia, which erosion would likely make inaccurate. In addition to unhelpful, of course. I took the liberty of drawing up a guide to reach it from here."
"Any more questions? If not, shop quickly and be off with you! There is no telling what situation Nuar is in."
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The team makes their way to the entrance point, a maintenance tunnel for an adjacent building that has been breached through. Aided by the others, Kegdrainer's talent for navigation turns up the right path in a scant hour. He also notices many unshod, vaguely humanoid footprints coming in and out, as well as those of large insects. From there, the way becomes clear, as the path ahead seemed well paved and is sometimes dimly lit by sparkling Elven runes.
After a bit more walking down said corridor, it widens. The cavern opens from a bottleneck into a large, smooth cavern of striated blue stone and pale, sandy floors. The walls glisten with moisture, and a small pool sits on the eastern side of the chamber. All across the area, thick carpets of fungus blanket the stones.
Some of the sand patches are particularly dense, likely hard to walk through. Several party members, however, notice something amiss about them just as the reason reveals itself, in the form of half a dozen massive beetles rising from the piles! Scores of tiny eggs pop out along with them; you've walked into a nest!
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Vagantem hurries forward, drawing her twin blades, as the others who noticed the beetles likewise prepare for a fight. The insects scuttle forth as quickly as they can, but are also hampered by the sand; only one moves fast enough to bite. It proves far too slow for the wily sylph, however.
- Bless
- Mage Armor
- Mage Armor
- Shield ofFaith
- Mage Armor
- Dragon Style