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Aldred dismisses the grease with a wave of his hand, kicks Fel's pick away and reaches down to remove his holy symbol. The bard pauses with one hand on the hilt of his dagger and says, "We should take him alive to that he might answer for his crimes here, but I have to tell you I don't feel like he deserves to draw another breath. But if we kill him we may never learn Boddrigan's ultimate fate or find his body to record on the wall of the Grand Lodge. I don't have any rope but there should be some backstage for the curtains and set pieces."
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With Magda's help, Alie is able to determine that whatever ritual the cult leader enacted to start his nascent zombie apocalypse is still active, suggesting the zombies will continue to rise, and eventually overwhelm all survivors in the theatre, before spreading out into Oppara...
...however, there is *one* glaring weakness; the ritual is fueled by Fel's own life-force; if he were to die, the Stone would most likely be rendered quiescent, and all surviving zombies should be rendered inert.
When Fog returns, he, too, concurs with Alie's assessment.
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Fog stops, his anger draining out of him as he sees Fel down and unconscious. Looking over the still glowing orb though, his decision is made in an instant. Without a word he raises his axe, and brings it crashing down on Fel's neck.
"Ensure any still sleeping are secured, and in a moment I will heal our wounds."
As he speaks, he drops to his knees, and drops his head in prayer
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Fog's well-placed blow severs the cult leader's spinal cord. The man's eyes flick open, and regard Fog with so much malice, that it is like being hit by a physical blow...
...but then the life drains from him, his eyes become unfocused, and his gaze becomes fixed, unseeing.
As Fel's life force ebbs, the glow from the stone wanes as well, eventually vanishing entirely, leaving an unremarkable-looking hunk of stone, sitting on a dias.
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Whilst Fog kneels in prayer, Aldred ties-up the sleeping cultist; to the best of your knowledge, the only one to survive this sorry business...
Whilst the party is collecting themselves, Consul Hustavan peers around the curve of the tunnel, and seeing the situation, straightens, brushing some stray dust from his clothes, and what looks suspiciously like fibres from more than one set-piece, as if he had been hiding in a pile.
"Well done! I knew that with my guidance, you would be just the sort I needed to get the job done. I'll just duck upstairs to let the other survivors know that we were successful..."
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Magda nods grimly and looks away when Fog brings down the pick. She kneels over the zombie looking for a match to Boddrigan's description. Noting Fog's distracted uneasy stare at the stone she says, "Hmmph. Greatest living artifact, eh? I think we contact local Pathfinders for dealing with stone. Is no way we move that thing. Real mission is idiot Pathfinder though. Eliza will want to bury her boy toy, no?"
Rising again she laughs bitterly, "This guy, he takes months to get paperwork for dig here in Oppara. Then he gets killed and half nobility of Oppara killed with him. You think Pathfinders be doing any digging in Oppara for fifty, sixty years now? I think no. Unless old man over there is half important as he think he is and he remembers who saved him tomorrow."
"Going up to look for boy toy." so saying Magda trudges wearily through the storage room and up the stairs then heads back to the entry hall with the purple carpet where they had fought cultists and zombies outside the bar. Careful to crouch over one of the zombies in case anyone interrupted her she carefully scanned around the room looking for a good place to leave behind the bauble for Valsin's contact.
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"Well, I could certainly use the money... Still, I should warn you: Based on what your small friend told me before the Opera, I am probably not going to worth much as an informant, for much longer..."
As the party wearily work their way up to the main auditorium, you spot Hustavan loudly addressing a bunch of tired and bloody nobles; the same group that you encountered before.
Still, the sight of the scores of bodies carpeting the floor is a dispiriting sight: A mixture of nobles and cast members, separated by a wide gulf of social status in life, united in bloody dismemberment in death...
...but then, a closed door on the opposite side of the theatre opens, and shaken, disheveled nobles, wigs askew, and make-up smudged, begin to cautiously pour out. It seems that a coterie of audience members managed to barricade themselves in the Court Sitting Room, and weathered the attack; all in all, you would estimate that just under a half of the audience members appear to have survived.
"...and here they are! I could not have done it without them! Three cheers for the Saviors of the Immortal Son! Hip-hip Hooray! Hip-hip Hooray! Hip-hip Hooray!"
It begins slowly, clumsily, but soon all of the survivors are clapping, and cheering wildly.
The crowd rushes forward, eager to shake hands, and offer congratulations, whilst Hustavan basks in the reflected glory, like a cat with a bowl of cream.
Soon after, several squads of the city guard arrive, and begin the thankless task of sorting through the dead, whilst eager nobles watch with interest, thoroughly titillated by current events, now that they know they are safe.
Consul Hustavan attempts to take control, but he is politely directed towards dealing with the remaining nobles (on the theory that it takes a noble to wrangle another noble).
Unsurprisingly, amongst the dead is Wuthers. In his belt pouch is a draft of the final letter he wrote to Venture-Captain Eliza Petulengro, wherein he details the final stages of the dig and the strange character of his companion—noted as “cleric of Irori” but clearly Bustani. His pouch also contains a personal journal, a shorthand record of his many adventures as a Pathfinder.
A few of the guards approach your group, and deferentially request to debrief you; after about an hour, convinced that they have everything that they need, they allow the party to go, requesting only that you stay in Oppara for the next few weeks, in case they need to follow-up on anything.
When you finally leave the theatre, your coach is waiting, ready to take you back to the Lodge...
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For the next few weeks, the party is treated like a group of new opera belles - you are almost literally swamped with dinner and ball invitations, as the great and the good simply wish to bask in your presence, revel in the sordid retelling of what happened, and/or ask inane questions about the adventuring life; it seems that everyone who is anyone was either a survivor of the 'Immortal Son', or has a relative who was...
Alie in particular is treated like minor royalty, whilst Fog... well, with more than a few nods and winks, is very definitely *not* hung, drawn and quartered for being a cleric of the Dawnflower...
Still, whilst your stars have been on the rise, others have been in decline; in particular, that of Consul Magistros Sebastus Hustavan. As the most senior aristocrat / bureaucrat present at the debacle, responsibility for the all of the deaths that occurred was pinned, rightly or wrongly, upon him. Stripped of his title and lands, he was essentially banished from polite society; discreet inquiries suggest that he may be eking out a hand-to-mouth existence in the Vagabond Camp near the Porthmos bridge, but quite frankly, the fate of one more aristocrat that has fallen from favor is beneath the notice of most society members...
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Alie was having the time of her life. She was back home, had proved herself to some of her countrymen, and now was being feted as the 'Belle of the Ball,' so to speak. She had never been able to have the backstage access to the operas and other theatre performances in the area, but now, she was whisked in and back with the greatest of ease. Alie was given some opportunity to show off her developing skills with her singing voice as well. It was the time of her life.
However by around the end of the third week of "fame," Alie's wanderlust began to set in as it usually did. It's about time for another mission was the thought that kept running through her mind. This was fun, and a welcome distraction from lying down and sleeping on dusty ground for weeks at a time, but despite herself, Alie kind of missed the excitement. Therefore, she was more than ready to get back to business after her month of fun. Besides, she had a bit of a name now. She could always come back for a couple weeks after her next job was over!
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Unlike Alie, Wadi did NOT enjoy his moment of fame. This probably was due to the fact he was no great fan of the Taldor people. Fortunately being an actor did have its advantages...
Since there was no way he could avoid dealing with the crowds of fawning nobles and other fans, he decided to use the time to form some networking contacts in the various unions which comprise the actors guilds. For the most part they were tolerable, but still no where near as cosmopolitan as those in Absalom.
He also did take time to visit the Chelaxian embassy, and was able to sens a message to the Paracountess in Absalom. Much to his surprise, he found a gift waiting for him: A long tapered blood red bone wand engraved with various runes and infernal symbols. He grimaced in recollection at the note received from her...apparently she was in a better mood now, probably due to the deaths of the Taldoran nobles. Oh well, the wand would help keep him alive anyway.
Still, as the time in Oppara drew to a close, Wadi felt a sense of relief at not only surviving the encounter with the cultists, but also the Taldan nobility.
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Fog keeps his head as low as possible. He's learnt some hard lessons in recent days. Any invitation he can duck out of without causing offence, he does. He is also sure never to go out without at least one of the other members of the party, and preferably Alie. Success may have bought a reprieve, but he knows his religion is a death sentence waiting to happen, and so he tries to avoid confrontation.
Through the local society contacts, Fog also makes some purchases to avoid the situation in the theatre happening again. Taking a wand and some scrolls of healing will allow him to use the full force of Sarenrae's might to disrupt and destroy foul undead. Having the ability to magically protect himself will allow him to better protect his friends.
Fogs armour also undergoes some changes, becoming more flexible, and less likely to hamper his movement thanks to the work of a local master craftsman.
In all, after a few quiet days, Fog is well rested, well fed, and ready to move from this foul country and do something useful.
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After the massacre in the theater, Magda wasn't sure what to do with herself in the gilded city. The incident had left the entire team in the spotlight and as a medium she began receiving invitations from the extended families of those who died in the tragedy. For the first one she arrived earnest and ready to bathe the body in oil and spices and arrange the flowers for a sitting, but was surprised to find these details already well taken care of by professionals well beyond her skill or means. She stood uncomfortable trying to discern why she was here until it dawned on her that she was meant to be a conversation piece, a prestige "get" for the event. She was essentially another flower arrangement.
City folk were not her typical clientèle and the peasant witch was uncomfortable around them, suspicious that she was somehow the butt of a joke she did not understand. After that first sitting, for which she was paid an outrageous sum, Magda couldn't stand the city any longer. She stewed on it for days while walking the docks before realizing that she had already made up her mind that first night.
About a week after the incident, Magda met the others for dinner and explained that she was moving on. She had heard the new Lodge in Magnimar had an open call for several teams of resident Pathfinders. Varisia was much more to her liking and with the Mushfens nearby might practically feel like her home in Carrion Hill. That night she bid the team farewell and before anyone woke the next morning she had packed and gone.
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Dreng, ever presenting the appearance of the doddering, decrepit old man, met you in the Great Hall of Skyreach, the main fortress of the Grand Lodge in Absalom. Dressed only in tattered night clothes, complete with a faded yellow sleeping cap, the youthful excitement in Dreng's eyes belied his elderly appearance.
"We've found them!", he declared, the moment you arrived in the Great Hall. "Those pitiful bastards who murdered Pathfinder Bodriggan Wuthers in Oppara about a month ago - you know, the Zyphus-worshipping fools who tried to turn Oppara into a zombie-filled nightmare? After all this time, we finally tracked their remnants to a burned-out temple in the Vagabond Camp across the river from the capital. You will set out for there at once - there is a ship waiting - and meet a man named Sebastus Hustavan outside the burned-out temple. Once a man of great importance, he seems to have fallen on hard times - fallen o far as to join those Zyphus fiends. But he's redeemed himself by telling us their location! Find Hustavan - it can't be hard; there's only one burned-out temple of Sarenrae in the Vagabond Camp - learn all you can about the cult's hideout, and then cleanse it of their presence. Cultists across Golarion must know they may not use the Society to fulfill their horrid glories - so too will they know that the Society will not stand by and watch its members murdered!"
Dreng clears his throat then, his posture losing the sudden youthful fire and passion, his shoulders hunching once more, his face pinched and tired. "Of course, while you are there", he rasped, "do your duty as Pathfinders, and seek anything they may have that the Society would need in the Vaults. Additionally, members of the team who dealt with the zombie infestation are still in Oppara - Alie Saechel, a Gnomish sorceror, Father Fog, a Dwarven holy warrior, and Wadi Ahk'kolon, a Chelish sorceror - before you approach the Vagabond Camp, you should check-in at the Lodge in Oppara, to see if you can enlist their aid. Now, be off with you! There is not a moment to lose!"
So, after a hurried morning rush to gather supplies in Absalom, several days in the blustery Inner Sea, and another spent weaving through the bureaucracy of the Taldan customs rituals, you find yourself walking in the chill of the early morning, arriving outside the front of the Opparan Lodge just as it starts to rain...
It is a cold autumn morning in Oppara, but Alie, Wadi and Fog are gathered in the dining room of the Lodge, enjoying a hearty cooked breakfast in front of a roaring fire, perfectly snug and warm, but nonetheless dreading the tedium the day will bring... even the inclement weather has not soured the Opparan nobility's desire for entertainment, if the number of letters on the sideboard this morning are anything to go by...
...however, something unexpected then happens: There is a knock at the front door, and after a few minutes, the butler strides into the dining room, followed by three rather intriguing individuals: A Human warrior, another Human with what can only be described as a wolf following obediently at his heel, and a Half-Elven warrior who appears to be festooned with weapons.
The butler clears his throat, bows, and then addresses those breakfasting:
"M'lords and M'lady, these three have come post-haste from the Grand Lodge in Absalom, with urgent news regarding the... unpleasantness... a month ago. I will withdraw to allow you to discuss business."
He then bows again, and leaves the room, pulling the door shut smartly behind him.
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"Greetings all...my name is Talhaearn. Most find it easier to call me Tal." As Talhaearn speaks it is easy to make out his slightly pointed ears poking out from his shoulder length hair. That, and the fact thar he is slightly taller than most, are the only noticeable signs of his half-elven heritage.
"We have been charged with bringing a group of vagabonds to justice for the murder of a fellow agent; the same group that tried to populate Oppara with zombies. We have a man on the inside who will be able to lead us to the vagabond's hideout."
"The job is obviously too big for us three to handle on our own; and since you folks already have some history with these vagabonds we are hoping to enlist your help."
Valeros looks around a little bleary from the previous night and several days unshaven then says, "Aw hell. How many times am I gonna have to tell Dreng to get me an assignment with some full sized women?! No offense lady," he nods to Alie.
At Fog's request for documentation he nods, "Oh yeah. I got yer papers right here." He reaches into his pocket and slowly pulls out an empty hand that he flips into a rude gesture. "Hehe. I'm not a scribe buddy. You got some murdering cultists on the loose and I got a couple of these..." His hands drop to the hilts of his swords. "Seems like a pretty good fit to me."
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Kovar, a tall slender male with unkempt hair leather armor matted with leaves and dirt, emerges from the corner catching up with Valeros and Talhaeran.
"Greetings, it looks like I am the last of the party to arrive."
With a sly smile on his face he grins, "Well not the very last," as his pet wolf comes lopping into the scene making nothing but a small purr of a growl and sniffing the air.
"I too am here find justice in the name of the Pathfinder Society."
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Kovar, takes a deep breath, even pauses for a moment to make sure the gnome is done asking all of those questions.
"Its not a puppy little one. My friends may pet him but my enemies though are likely to have their throats gashed. His favorite food is what he can catch. Don't worry, he likes hares and quail the most and finds gnome to tough and chewy."
Kovar smiles at the gnome like a father would a small child (who also hopes the line of questioning is over).
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Hero of Freedom,
So it seems you are to meet the villainous Magistros Sebastus Hustavan - oh how far the mighty have fallen. That villain was responsible for slavery, death, tyranny, and theft across the Inner Sea when he worked as a consul for that dog Stavian III. His fall from grace is a fair punishment, but I must know that he knows his works led to countless deaths among free peoples. Convince the wretch that his years of service to Taldor served only evil purposes - it'll likely be difficult, given that he seems quite incapable of feeling anything but greed and hate.
Additionally, whilst cleansing the Zyphus cult's hideout clean of their filth, if you find their disgusting altar, be sure to destroy it. Look for the pick and skull symbol Zyphus' vermin use to mark his territory - the altar itself is likely to be clothed in blood, entrails, and disease - do not destroy it carelessly.
Finally, be sure to show this note to Father Fog, currently in residence at the Lodge in Oppara, and a staunch fellow Hero of Andoran. It should serve as a letter of introduction; you will need his assistance in this matter.
For the Free People of Andoran.
Major Colson Maldris
Stalwart of the Society,
Once again I find myself needing to ask you to do a favour for a long-term ally of the Society. Follow his orders as you would my own.
VC Ambrus Valsin
Enclosed with the note is another, written in a neat, curvilinear script:
Noble Servant of the Ruby Prince,
Your mission to Oppara provides us with an opportunity to solve an ancient mystery of the pharaoh's court: The disappearance of the great Vizier Mujarhamma. Mujarhamma was the vizier to several puppet pharaohs during Qadria's time ruling our lands, and he fled Sothis to escape an assassination attempt. After years of research, I believe he was fleeing assassination at the hands of his own Osirion people, and that he might have ended up living out his days as a faithful servant of Qadira's own diety - Sarenrae. I have reason to suspect he might have served in the very same temple to which you are headed. Find his corpse, and return it to me. I have no clues to offer you - use your wits.
Since you are delving into the vile den of Zyphus, you are likely to find an altar there. Given what I know about Andoran, should any of your compatriots come from that land, they will likely wish to destroy the altar. Make sure they do, and help them do it.
In Honor of Our Ancestors,
Amenopheus, The Sapphire Sage.
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Pulling Fog aside to somewhat private area,
"Yes Father, I was told something. You should read this."
So it seems you are to meet the villainous Magistros Sebastus Hustavan - oh how far the mighty have fallen. That villain was responsible for slavery, death, tyranny, and theft across the Inner Sea when he worked as a consul for that dog Stavian III. His fall from grace is a fair punishment, but I must know that he knows his works led to countless deaths among free peoples. Convince the wretch that his years of service to Taldor served only evil purposes - it'll likely be difficult, given that he seems quite incapable of feeling anything but greed and hate.
Additionally, whilst cleansing the Zyphus cult's hideout clean of their filth, if you find their disgusting altar, be sure to destroy it. Look for the pick and skull symbol Zyphus' vermin use to mark his territory - the altar itself is likely to be clothed in blood, entrails, and disease - do not destroy it carelessly.
Finally, be sure to show this note to Father Fog, currently in residence at the Lodge in Oppara, and a staunch fellow Hero of Andoran. It should serve as a letter of introduction; you will need his assistance in this matter.
For the Free People of Andoran.
Major Colson Maldris
"I wouldn't mind taking care of business early today so I could settle down for a little relaxation tonight. You all ready for a little payback or you need time to get your affairs in order?"
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Almost on queue, the butler sweeps through the adjoining door from the kitchen, and with practiced efficiency, sets three more places at the table, before bringing in plates piled high with back bacon, poached eggs, grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, half-inch-thick slices of bread covered in generous dollops of butter, pork, beef and lamb sausages, black and white puddings, and fried onions.
To wash all of that down, there is also piping-hot spiced tea and coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice, and ice-cold, pure water.