A fire crackles merrily in the hearth of a small sitting room somewhere in the bowels of Skyreach. The busy noise of Absalom's thronging streets remains but a vague afterthought whispering in through the open window, which lets in the pleasant sunlight of an early spring morning. The comfortable chairs of this room are, as of yet, unattended.
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A half-elf strides in. His supercilious nature is immediately obvious. He wears leather armor comfortably, and his bow has clearly seen a lot of use, but the striking feature at his side is a book. "Ah, it'll be good to get out again. I have a feeling my skills just don't lie in learning through books."
The half-elf then takes a seat and with a level of familiarity that is likely inappropriate, kicks his feet up on the arm rest of one of the other chairs. The book opens to a page towards the front, and he begins splitting his time between doodling and writing lyrics.
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A mustachioed man walks in moments after Kayanor, glances at the chairs, and takes a seat a comfortable distance to the half-elf stranger. It takes him a moment to adjust his greatsword so as to not gouge the chair.
The faintest scent of beer follows the man. That, coupled with the tankard attached to his belt, hint at his devotion to Cayden Cailean, the god of freedom and drink. Even his greatsword is designed such that it has a basket hilt, not unlike that rapiers favoured by Caydenites.
"Good day. Mein name is Verner. I am here for the adffenture."
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The door swings wide to reveal a stout dwarf in the doorway, squinting at a scrap of parchment. This looks like the right address, he says aloud to no one in particular. Aram Zey and his cryptic summons. Come to Skyreach in Absalom. Don't be late. Tells ya next to nothing.
He comes inside and slumps into a nearby chair, bumping the half elf's feet as he sits, and produces a hip flask from which he takes a long pull. He looks at Werner and silently offers the human across the table a swig. Droghedor Coram's the name. Hunter and spellslinger.
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Garrick steps into the room, takes a quick look at the group and smiles broadly. "Greetings, Friends! Am I late? I wasn't sure if the meeting started at noon or 1/2 past." He saunters over to cleric and gives him two solid pats on the shoulder. "Good to see a fellow sufferer on this trip. ha ha!"
Garrick sits down in an open chair, smiles at everyone again and with the shrug of his shoulders asks, "Are we waiting on anyone else or am I Tail End Charlie?" With that he bursts into laughter. "Get it? Tail End Charlie?"
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Garrick smiles at the Cleric, "have you ever seen the "v" pattern that geese make during migration? The V is never even, the guy at the end of the longest side is "tail end Charlie."
He looks at the group expecting a flash of realization. Not getting it, he sighs, "It's a pun. It's supposed to be funny... Or in this situation.... wait for it... PUNNY!" He laughs loudly again. then sits back down into his seat with a very exaggerated eye roll.
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"But how can anyone be doomed when there's such a dashing adventuress as myself along?" The woman's sonorous voice carries a distinct Taldan accent that caresses each word.
The voice comes as the doors of the sitting room fly open. This woman's sunburnt olive skin shows signs of a life of toil that ages a person prematurely, but her eyes show an unfettered vitality. Her wavy black hair is accented by a rose that doubles as a holy symbol of Shelyn, the strands of which fall as-they-may in an unkempt flair which carries over into her clothing: a fine breastplate embossed with a many-colored rose over a loose blouse and breeches. She carries a sturdy, fresh buckler and numerous small weapons, though her hand wanders closest to her rapier.
She jumps up onto the table with an unexpected grace, takes the stance of a back-alley fencer, flips her rapier about in her hand, holds it up in front of her face, then bows.
She proceeds to sing to a sweeping tango melody, her body poised like a singer on a stage.
"I am I, Dulcinea, 'Lady' of la Mancha.
Destiny called, and I..."
She drops the exalted pose and stabs her rapier in the table, shrugging with a cat grin.
"Said 'why not?'"
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The cleric of Cayden Cailean is floored by the spectacle. Dashing acrobatics, a flair with his god's chosen weapon, and an obvious sense of freedom. Werner can't help but wonder whether he's watching the avatar of his god. Thinking this, he produces a wineskin and asks, "Vould you, uhm, like ein drink?"
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Dulcinea jumps down from the table and takes a seat.
"A drink? Hmm...I am always up for a tall glass of water."
She glances towards Drog's "drink." Noticing its absence, she gives an amused smile.
"Or an invisible mug of beer."
She reaches over in front of Drog and mime's grabbing a mug from in front of him and downing it in several massive gulps. She sets the "mug" on the table and "slides" it unceremoniously to Drog. Finally, she leans back in her chair and rests her boots on the table, balancing her chair on its back two legs.
"So, how are all of you?"
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Invisible beer? We must fix this! Garrick whips a mug out of nowhere and, in a flash, fills it with ale out of a keg in his backpack.
Here you are my fine Companion! may it bring you good fortune. In an instant, he has poured himself another beer, raises it in turn to the party giving Werner the proper salute, and takes a long drink.
Now, what are we here to discuss?
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As if that moment invited an interruption, the door banged open to reveal a half-elf, glaring with annoyance at the presence of others. Silently, she walks a corner of the room, bumping an open chair and tipping it over on her way.
She grunts, irritated at the chair for being in her way. Avoiding eye contact as she squats on the ground, she mutters inaudibly.
Realizing that no one heard her, she lifts her heads slightly, still avoiding the gaze of others in the room.
"I'm Keyawnah."
Just behind Keyawnah scurries a pompous-looking gnome in initiate's robes. "This way for the Master of Spells!" he chirps, ushering the group down the hall and several sets of stairs.
Deep beneath Absalom’s Grand Lodge, the Pathfinder Society’s Master of Spells, Aram Zey, gestures at the tapestry hung on the wall, surrounded by ladders and scaffolds. Scholars and diviners scurry around a frayed and dirty tapestry, analyzing its abstract patterns and comparing insights.
Victory in the Ruby Phoenix Tournament earned the Pathfinder Society a pick of the legendary treasures of the Tian sorceress Hao Jin, and the Decemvirate knew just what item to select: a decrepit tapestry hidden deep in Hao Jin’s vault. This unassuming tapestry acts as a doorway to another dimension in which Hao Jin stored her most massive items, including entire buildings, battlefields, and the ruins of ancient civilizations. The Pathfinder Society is now methodically exploring and cataloging the diverse locales tucked within this extradimensional space.
Zey snaps his finger to quiet the room and speaks rapidly. "The aasimar nation of Tianjing contains a handful of temples to Korada, Empyreal Lord of forgiveness and foresight. The Pathfinder Society is interested in exploring these holy sites, but the aasimar disciples in Tianjing are reluctant to grant the Pathfinder Society full access to their faith’s secrets. Fortunately, the custodian council of Tianjing gifted one such temple to Hao Jin centuries ago. This temple--the Temple of Empyreal Enlightenment--now sits vacant within the museum demiplane of the Hao Jin Tapestry. We need well-trained explorers to survey the isolated and abandoned site." Zey takes a moment to glare skeptically at the assembled Pathfinders.
"We will transport you to the Temple of Empyreal Enlightenment within the Hao Jin Tapestry and provide you with a small cache of supplies. We have some notion of the temple's functions already; however, we need a complete report on the temple with a focus on four key locations. First, locate the temple’s meditation room, find evidence of any meditative techniques described there, and record any effects of performing those techniques. Second, prepare a comprehensive catalog of all works in the temple library. Third, find the temple gardens and draft a detailed plan of the garden’s layout. Finally, enter the temple’s crypt and take rubbings of the carvings on each sarcophagus.
"You will enter the tapestry within the hour. Any questions?"
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Kayanor listens intently. After hearing the mission details he thumbs through his journal. He gives a contented nod at the number of pages left....
Then he frowns at the thought of tearing the pages out, "I just need to get some paper for the mission"
-Posted with Wayfinder
"That will be supplied to you," Zey frowns, pointing at several sacks full of paper, ink, measuring cords, rope, shovels, picks, brushes, rubbing materials, and other assorted archaeological tools.
Zey purses his lips and glares at Droghedor, and appears visibly annoyed at Werner's question. He waves in the direction of the fabric. "Each of the symbols on the Tapestry corresponds with a locale within the demiplane. Touch the right symbol and say the command word, and you enter the Tapestry at that point. Touch the wrong one, you don't. When you enter the demiplane, you will see a 'planar eddy' behind you. It looks like a ball of light about two feet across. The planar eddy is visible and usable only by the person that created it as long as they remain alive. Enter your planar eddy to return here to Absalom."
"Anything else?" he asks, growing impatient.
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The archer plucks his bowstring and copies the note with a hum before it turns to a chuckle, "nothing. I mean nothing is ever abandoned. Even of not a single heart beats inside, I promise, there will be something."
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Hao Jin created her museum demiplane with an environment identical to Golarion’s. It has air, weather, and gravity just as you’d expect. However, in the centuries since Hao Jin’s disappearance, the weather patterns within much of the tapestry demiplane have shifted, so we’re uncertain of the precise environment around the Temple of Empyreal Enlightenment," Zey says in a hurried tone. "The temple is
likely uninhabited except by ancient guardians or traps, although I suppose some scavengers may have found their way into the structure. As Pathfinders, you should be prepared for the worst."
The Master of Spells stares down with a look that implies this should be obvious.
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Garrick whips out a pen and pad of paper and takes a few notes.
1. find out how they meditate.
2. Try how they meditate.
3. Record observations.
4. Catalog the library.
5. Sketch the gardens
6. Take rubbings of all the sarcophagus.
This is pretty comprehensive exploration of the Temple. I certainly hope he library isn't too big. writing down all the titles could take weeks!
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Dulcinea leans against the wall, arms folded. She twists her mouth to one side in a frown.
"I do hope this will be more interesting than counting tiles and scribbling down the names of books."
A lascivious smile emerges as a thought pops in her head.
"Perhaps there will at least be some adorable priests. I hope Korada doesn't ask for celibacy from his faithful...."
Zey's face twists with disgust as he takes in Dulcinea's comment. "If there is nothing else?" he says impatiently.
One by one, the Pathfinders are led up to the tapestry and instructed to place a hand on a woven symbol of three intertwined rings. Then Zey speaks a command word and they quite alarmingly disappear from sight.
You find yourselves standing atop a forested hill in front of a large, wide building of burnished white stone. The sky above is bright and the air smells clean and fresh. The graceful building has no sharp corners; the white marble walls are carved with soft, round edges. The edifice appears well-scrubbed, but despite this obvious care black flecks of mold cover its surface. A gravel path leads into an airy courtyard and up to a pair of large wooden double doors. The doors are carved with an image of four spheres resting inside an open lotus flower.
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"I know something of where we're headed, and honestly it's pretty interesting. Certainly better than slogging through Taldan mud for a month. Korada is the Empyreal Lord of foresight, forgiveness, and peace. He is a force of good, dedicated to peace and contemplation. Korada spends his time meditating in the Dream Lotus on the plane of Nirvana, balancing the spheres of existence in his mind and conversing with other enlightened beings."
Kayanor laughs a bit, "You know he'd make a good patron for Pathfinders, I find that we're always asking forgiveness. One major problem though; devotees of Korada are scholars and mystics who are often contemplative pacifists. Korada’s worshipers meditate by spinning small glass spheres in their palms. Practiced disciples spin three glass spheres in each hand simultaneously while meditating."
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"Tianjing is a nation of aasimars in the Dragon Empires. The empire of Lung Wa protected, rather than conquered, Tianjing, allowing philosophy and arts to flourish in the aasimar nation."
The bard has little else to say, taking in the hill with a deep inhale through the nose and a slow exhale through the mouth as he unshoulders his bow.
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Droghedor is sullen throughout the trip, complaining (mostly) to himself about the Tapestry — Damned fool Zey will get us all killed when this thing rends our flesh away from the bones, the forested hill — trees give me hives, the sun overhead — gonna get a sunburn, and the building — who knows how old that thing is, likely to fall down on us the minute we touch it.
At the door, he asks aloud, Don't recognize that symbol. I'm sure it means we're doomed.
The slightest of breezes rustles the trees atop the hill. Ahead, a set of double doors face an open courtyard, but also smaller doors to either side.
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Dulcinea traipses along with the others, humming to herself as she inspects the facade of this intriguing building.
"These Koradans sound like pleasant folks indeed."
She sighs, tapping her sheathes rapier against her calf.
"I was hoping for a bit more excitement."
She suddenly smiles and makes for the door."
"Oh well. Perhaps one of Drog's morose prophecies will come true."
Werner finds no tracks of any kind. In fact, the area looks like it hasn't been touch by anything but wind in a long, long time.
Seeing no volunteers, Werner gives the great door handles a tug. The huge doors open easily on a wide atrium of white stone. The soft, curved walls of the exterior are reflected inside, leaving a warm, inviting space. Hanging lanterns with everburning torches provide an even, comfortable light. A massive purple spiral encasing three golden spheres decorates the floor, its image marred only by the scuffing of countless feet over the ages.
Another set of double doors lie ahead, as well as another to the left. A hallway splits off in each direction to the right.
Werner is untroubled by the door and swings it open. Inside is a small storeroom, stuffed with blankets, furniture, empty crates and barrels, rolls of white cloth, and assorted tools and bandages.