Your regular preparations for a day in Mendev are interrupted as you receive a note summoning you to a commander's tent. There you find four other men who all have the mien of having seen a lot of action gathered in front of a desk, behind which sits Aurelian Fache, a Shelyn priest from Galt who you recognize as one of the Crusade's administrators.
"Welcome, mes amis, and thank you for coming," he says, his Galtan accent harsh despite the decade he's spent in Mendev and the Worldwound. "I am afraid zat I 'ave bad news, unfortunately. A recent expedition into ze Worldwound 'as found a disturbing note. Eet ees not complete, but we zink zat we must investigate. We are 'oping you will be willing to undertake zis task for us."[/b]
He opens a small wooden box on the desk and passes a note over to you.
"My dreadfully majestic Kostchtchie,
We are overjoyed to hear that you have found your hidden torc. At your command, we shall travel to Irrisen and meet your forces of the Veil of Frozen Tears. We shall recover your stolen item and return it to you immediately, in return for your generous offer of a powerful magic item or boon that ...
Hulking, scarred, and battle-hardened beyond his years, Bern the bear grunts as the note is passed over. He sniffs it briefly, gives it an ursine shrug, then pads across the tent to sniff at Fache's stock of libations, searching for a nice brandy, or even just a jug of mead. The rough clearing of a dwarven throat receives an annoyed flare of his nostrils, but Bern (reluctantly) turns to obey his master, though making it perfectly clear to all in the room that he's doing it of his own choice.
Ryarg peers at the note as well, but seeing the unknown script, leaves it to those companions more knowledgable about esoteric matters.
|
St. Germaine, a tall, well built warrior-priest of the deity of fate and death sits in the corner, observing as others are braught in. Expressionless, but not outright threatening, he simply stares into the eyes of all who enter, nods, and returns focus to whatever conversation is otherwise going on.
Off all those who have come to Mendev, he is perhaps the most uncharacteristic, fighting the abominations with as much zeal as any knight hero, but kept at bay in the use of, . . . darker, divine arts. He also tends to make people uncomfortable as an almost antithesis to everything in this godforsaken land, yet is a strong ally at the same time, and one "trusted" by even the noble warriors in command of the crusades.
St. Germaine wears a heavy blacken full plate armor with decorations and symbolism of Pharasma, a Black and Red Tabard similar to the Mendevian Crusaders, and carries a Bastard Sword, and is known for using a Shield as a very deadly weapon as well. He is tall, athletic, but grim and mostly humorless. Recently, he has sprouted a pair of angelic wings, allowing limited flight, and it is said that he is somehow chosen of the goddess.
Sorry I'm late, says a typically tall, thin elf with white hair pulled back in an unruly tail. He wears a simple cloak with an ornately stitched robe. I came to the right camp, but I ended up waaaay over there, and had to walk a bit.
He lets himself into the tent. I just followed my nose to the bear smell. You were right, Ryarg. My plants died. I should have hired someone to water them, but good help is hard to find. I don't like people pokin' around in my stuff while I'm gone.
Seeing the note, Lefty takes it. Infernal. Nice.
He reads, translating it aloud in common.
Kostchtchie? Where have I heard that name before? Germaine? Does it ring a bell for you?
knowledge arcana
history
nature
nobility
"Bad waterers are usually better than no waterers," the dwarf mumbles into his beard with the slight off-monotone voice you've come to know as Ryarg's version of exasperation.
He reads, translating it aloud in common.
Kostchtchie? Where have I heard that name before? Germaine? Does it ring a bell for you?
"The language of the Poisoned One... ever unpleasant once you let it settle in is one I've tried to avoid. Thank you for translating."
Krokod is Kellid, though not the hulking brute so often associated with that race. Still, where his yeti hide does not cover it, one can make out a very muscular frame. Long straight black hair falls carelessly about his shoulders and his eyes seem to have an intensity to them.
The Oracle closes those eyes for a moment and thinks, "Issren is not so far from where the Mammoth Lords rule... my people. At least this time, I will be dragged northward, eh?" Krokard's lips twitch in a quirk of a smile, "Or will we actually not go looking for trouble? I would be surprised if it were so but I would not wish to speak too soon."
"Excuse my tardiness"
Raulzig hurriedly enters the tent, a gaudy patch on the grim landscape of Mendev. He wears an exotic turban sealed by a large green gem on his head, his armor is almost hiddden under several belts with holders for potions, scrolls, wands and miscellanea, and the shoes end with intricate if perhaps silly-looking spirals curling upwards.
He carefully strafes past the bear and picks up the note, seemingly at ease with Infernal language.
"Oooh, we're going to Irrisen? I've heard it's mighty cold there! But since Koschtchie has apparently gained a cult of followers, they must be stopped. It never ceases to amaze me why some people worship such entities."
Latharien, the name Koschtchie rings a bell, but you can't seem to place most of the details at the moment. All you can seem to remember is he's the Demon Lord of Giants and Cold, who is said to reside somewhere in Iobaria, to the east.
"Oooh, we're going to Irrisen? I've heard it's mighty cold there! But since Koschtchie has apparently gained a cult of followers, they must be stopped. It never ceases to amaze me why some people worship such entities."
"Desperation beyond endurance, a need for even the shadow of power at any cost, a hollowness that you feel can never be truly filled but the lies you tell yourself but buy temporary relief. And some dark powers give the weak little choice," the Kellid answers what may have been a rhetorical question. "Sometimes I pity them."
|
|
Knowlege History:
Finally chiming in, and speaking ina thick Ustalavian accent, "I beleive that we are all here, Master Fache. Perhaps thou might tell us what thou think, rather than invite our speculations. A few nights ago, I was visited by My Mistress, and ordered to travel to a frozon land to investigate some, . . . threat. Perhaps these are one and the same, yes, friends?" She smiles upon us.
After a moment, Raulzig, you think you remember hearing a story that mentions Kostchtchie, a treasure of his and the Veil of Frozen Tears in Irrisen.
Half a millennium ago, the reign of Queen Tashanna of Irrisen drew near its end, and the time approached for her to abdicate her throne and abandon Irrisen -- and even Golarion -- or other worlds and dimensions.
Tashanna, however, chose a different course. Rather than give up her throne and the kingdom she had so carefully nurtured for nearly a century, she sought to depose her own mother, Baba Yaga, and retain her rulership of Irrisen.
After years of research, she was finally able to locate the Torc of Kostchtchie, an artifact containing the mortal soul of the Demon Lord of Giants and Cold. Knowing of Kostchtchie’s hatred for Baba Yaga, Tashanna used her possession of the torc to convince the demon lord to ally with her in a rebellion against Baba Yaga. This short but bloody rebellion became known as the Witchwar.
Unfortunately, Tashanna underestimated Baba Yaga’s personal power. The Old Crone had created both Kostchtchie and the torc, and possessed the means to undo them. Baba Yaga first faced Kostchtchie and savaged him with her magic, sending him fleeing to Iobaria to lick his wounds while her loyalists decimated his giant forces. The Queen of Witches then turned her attention to Tashanna and quickly defeated her rebel forces as well.
As the Witchwar concluded, the survivors of the rebelling army were captured by Baba Yaga’s forces. A massive purge then took place, in which the Old Crone’s monstrous soldiers rounded up the families of all the disloyal troops.
These terrified civilians -- men, women, and children -- were forced to undergo a brutal march north to the uttermost edge of Baba Yaga’s kingdom. Many of them did not survive the long road of cold and deprivation, and those who did remained haunted to the end of their days by what they found at the end of their journey.
At the head of a narrow valley, they found their loved ones -- the hundreds of captured soldiers -- chained to the massive stone escarpment. The deposed Queen Tashanna and her war captains stood huddled under guard on one slope of the valley, while the hapless families of the condemned stood below on the valley floor. Baba Yaga’s infamous hut stood atop the escarpment like an enthroned ruler surveying her domain.
While the horrified crowd of thousands watched, Baba Yaga stepped from the entrance of her hut and wove a mighty spell that rerouted an icy river flowing through the nearby mountains and brought it to the cliff’s edge just above the hundreds of chained prisoners. The sudden rushing flood poured over the cliff face. The chained prisoners were held helplessly in its path as the onslaught tumbled down upon them. Many were killed outright by the crushing weight of the water and the debris it carried, or were ripped bodily from the face of the cliff -- leaving twisted limbs still manacled to the rock -- as they tumbled to their doom hundreds of feet below. Others drowned as the newly formed waterfall gushed down over them, stealing their breath even as it numbed their bodies with its cold.
The crowd of onlookers below was not spared the slaughter. Too late they realized their jeopardy as the mighty waters rushed over the cliff and into the valley. They fled in droves for the slopes of the valley, but many hundreds were unable to escape before being swept away in the catastrophic flood. Thus Queen Tashanna and her captains learned the price of their betrayal as they watched their loyal followers being wiped out, and saw even the families of those followers destroyed by the Old Crone’s vengeance.
Finally, as her fabled hut stood firm on its perch in the midst of the rushing flow, Baba Yaga cast a final spell. With a wave of her hand, the tumbling waters below her froze solid into a cyclopean column of twisted ice spilling over the cliff’s edge and into the valley. With another motion, she summoned great ice worms that rose from the snows and ice of the valley slopes and began to tunnel into the frozen cataract, creating tunnels and chambers within the frozen tomb. The last sight beheld by the surviving families as they were led away on their long march south was of Tashanna and her war captains being taken in chains to face their own fates in the newly carved tunnels of the frozen veil that now hid their deceased loved ones. None of the officers of the former witch queen were ever seen in Irrisen again. The Old Crone’s vengeance was complete, and the Witchwar became but a distant memory as the nation of Irrisen, bloodied but whole again, continued on beneath the rule of another of Baba Yaga's daughters.
Known as the Veil of Frozen Tears, the hidden necropolis, filled with traps of the Old Crone’s devising and foul guardian spirits, remained inviolate for 5 centuries -- apparently until now.
Never a dull moment! I'm guessing Kostchtchie getting his torc back would not bode well for us, or any of our peoples.
|
|
"I would assume so, though She has not graced me with such knowledge of this Kotchtchie, and I remember nothing of his or her Torc. The missive implieth that some other one has the Torc, whatever that means, and is willing to trade for it. Am I alone in elieving this other one almost speaketh as if to an enemy or competitor?"
"So, mes amis? Can we count on you to find zis Veil of Frozen Tears and recover zis torc before ze demon can get to eet?"
"It sounds too dangerous to be in evil hands," Krokod admits, "if others go to retrieve it, I will join them."
|
|
After a moment of consideration "So long as this is one and the same holy quest that mine Mistress dust send me, you may count on me. Should it not be the case, I will, of course, offer what assistance I might, with her leave.
And I gladly", still not betraying any emotion as he says so, "accept you all as my allies in this. My sword is your sword. But be warned. I am no servant of the light, nor a mouthpiece of the goddess of this crusade. I put much into Death. And that includeth the deaths of enemies. If She willeth it, I will guide thy souls back from beyond, if I am able. But be warned, is She forbids me from cutting a life short before it's time, I can not, and will not do so. . . Before it's time."
I'm in. I can get us there, maybe. What's this place look like?
A frozen waterfall, somewhere in Irrisen, laced with tunnels all around. That's a start.
Raulzig is fairly certain he knows where the Necropolis is, assuming the Irrisen Ballad of Holvar and Alea can be trusted.
|
|
After everyone else has said their answers, "I have a few things we aught to take under consideration. First being, who specifically, intercetpted this missive? How did thou come abouts it, "mon ami"?
We can then assume that this Kostchtchie, or to whomever it was actually intended for, does not know of an attempted parley. Mayhap we may use this for advantage, and should keep it close to mind later?
"I was shown many things. What I recalleth, what mine mind can comprehendeth, was visions of giantish things and utter cold, like unto the grave. But tainted, different. Great, a great and terrible evil, something from another existence. She, or it, I an not be sure, stood upon a house that moved like a darkness that moveth, saw time, as it floweth not. I saw a multitude, bound by magic that forbid their rightful vengence. The Restless without grave, stolen from the one above and below. I saw, and see still, children made into demon and elder raped, bound, and punished by magics that can not be and should have never been. All hunted and hurt for evils not their own, by an Evil not our own. Ten timeseth ten timesth ten they waiteth. But to be rescuedeth or to punish a first victim, I knoweth not. There are worse fates than death, I asure you. Be warned. . ."
Krokod listens intently and nods "Powerful visions, no doubt." He scratches his chin, "I am called Krokod Firetongue, Holy one. I will aid you to try to fight these visions coming to pass."
"... and that, friends, is the story of the immortal Kostchtchie and his Torc. Now, could I please have a glass of water?
Having refreshed himself, Raulzig continues.
"A Torc is a piece of jewelery, like a necklace, I believe. But in this case, it's also a phylactery of sorts. I'm afraid if Kostchtchie gets it, it will significantly shift the power balance of the forces of evil, potentially igniting another Witchwar and bringing more suffering to the common folk.
The ancient Irrisen ballads have conveyed the approximate location and looks of the Necropolis to this day. I can aid in guiding us there."
Very well. Give me a few minutes to prep the spell, and we can be there shortly. Dress warm!
Lefty will take 15 to fill an empty slot with Greater Teleport. Before casting it, he'll put on his cold weather gear, goggles, etc.
Ryarg glances about as everybody around him talks, debates, reveals heavenly visions, and prepares powerful magics. The vaunted speak of the aasimar complements the more folksy style of Raulzig, the formal speech of Krokod, and the direct style of Latharien the elf. Added to the mix, Ryarg the dwarf who has sat so still as to seem to disappear, adds, "Okay" to the mix of voices. He wanders off to get his pack and weapons, and Bern's barding.
Meanwhile, the belted and cloaked grizzly bear waits until the others are distracted, then slowly ambles over to the small table with the bottles of libations and attempts to swipe a tastly looking cognac.
Sleight of....err...Paw:
Krokod smiles at the dwarf's 'okay' comment. Stout folk he thinks Know much, say little. No wonder they are considered wise by some
|
|
Krokod listens intently and nods "Powerful visions, no doubt." He scratches his chin, "I am called Krokod Firetongue, Holy one. I will aid you to try to fight these visions coming to pass."
"I am honored and thankful for thine help in this. I can foresee your power, like a star from the heavens, destroying an evil in waves of purifying flames. The very Hell's should feer thee, if they where but smarter."
Krokod looks thoughtful at that, "You... do me kindness." and he leaves it at that.
Raulzig dashes back into his tent and returns with a haversack and sporting fur-lined winter boots. His light armor still looks unfit for the tundra climate, but he seems unfazed by it.
Looking at Lefty doing arcane preparations, he sighs. "Not sure about you folks, but I feel kinda nostalgic for the times when I had to do the trek from Absalom all the way to Katapesh on carts and donkeys, and the most powerful spell I knew created a greasy puddle... To think it was only a couple of years ago! Amazing."
Raulzig dashes back into his tent and returns with a haversack and sporting fur-lined winter boots. His light armor still looks unfit for the tundra climate, but he seems unfazed by it.
Looking at Lefty doing arcane preparations, he sighs. "Not sure about you folks, but I feel kinda nostalgic for the times when I had to do the trek from Absalom all the way to Katapesh on carts and donkeys, and the most powerful spell I knew created a greasy puddle... To think it was only a couple of years ago! Amazing."
Ah, yes. Considering things in the time that has passed, I often think that I'm still alive due to nothing more than dumb luck. It certainly wasn't always "smart" luck! It's good to see old friends still among the living. Let's stay that way in this undertaking, shall we?
We've time to discuss the magic we have readied, if only briefly. You know I'm generally a scout and a damage dealer with mine. We're not working alone in this endeavor, though, so we should make sure we're not duplicating effects with the powers at our disposal.
|
|
Ah, yes. Considering things in the time that has passed, I often think that I'm still alive due to nothing more than dumb luck. It certainly wasn't always "smart" luck! It's good to see old friends still among the living. Let's stay that way in this undertaking, shall we?
"Mayhap you selleth yourself short. Taking a hard fall from time to time, is as inevitable as the grave, even for the Mistress of the Grave. But needed, to teach a true lesson and grow from it. I count my self lucky that I'm on quest with one whose "dumb luck" has gotten him thus far, rather than some sheltered princess with much to learn".
"I was not given a choice of power, only the choice in how to direct it and make it grow. But yes, there are times I recall what it was to see the world through younger more innocent eyes. Perhaps I shall return to my homeland after this adventure and see what has changed, or how much the changes in me allow me to see."
"A group of crusaders raiding into ze WorldWound itself retrieved ze note after it encountered a group of frost giants traveling east. I do not know where zey were from but zey will not be going anywhere anymore after zat fight," Aurelian answers St. Germaine. "My guess ees zat zey are Kostchtchie’s meenions, responding to 'is call."
"I prefer to think that the luck which keeps me alive is quite smart!", Raulzig winks. "Apart from luck, during the adventures I rely on stealth, skills and misdirection, and my magic is mostly directed to enhance those powers. Everything else can be covered by items." And he meaningfully pats his haversack.
"I do bears," Ryarg says softly. "Summon them, turn into them, fight with them. Rock creatures, too, but mostly bears."
He walks over to Bern and snatches away the half-drunk bottle of cognac, returning it to the table. "Sorry. He's a bit of a lush. Are you too drunk to go fight evil today?" he asks the bear.
Bern affects an innocent demeanour.
Just say the word, guys, and Lefty will envision the frightening location and teleport us there. Should we go right in, or appear somewhere outside and do a little recon first?
"Fire is my gift and my curse... I heal with it, but it is easier to burn. That said, I believe I am ready."
|
|
"Someone had mentioned before, I believe it was "another witch-war". Perhaps we can glean some information of this place, it's history and the lay of the land before we depart? I can't imagine it would be unwise to do so."
"And if this letter was recovered from giant-kind within the Worldwound, we have indeed lost an element of surpize, and perhaps already made an enemy of ourselves in this. We can also assume that this Kostchtchie is a demon of some sort, or one who would deal with the thrice bedamned."